#i have no idea which ones are friendly and which ones aren’t!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pencil-n-pen · 2 months ago

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REDUCED TO SKIN AND BONE

. ݁₊ ♡ . ݁˖

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buck x people pleaser! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: Pathological People Pleaser- capital P. That’s you. Life is a helluva lot easier when no one can hurt you- not if you never give anyone substantial pieces of yourself. Too bad Evan “Buck” Buckley takes issue with this.

cw: reader is a grade A pathological people pleaser so all the angst and issues that come with that, canon-typical gore/violence (they are firefighters/paramedics)

tags/tropes: coworkers to lovers (hr HATES these two) bobby knowing everything about these two but letting them work it out anyway, team as a family, BUCK IS BOBBY’S KID IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS, also Buck being really sweet and nice (and reader having no idea what to do with this)

a/n: tbh this reader is really just a girl. this fic is extremely inspired by Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood, which, my dear followers, if you'll recall, is my favorite romance book ever (!!!!!) also no one say reader isn't realistic bc i based her internal dialogue and worries off of my real life experiences as a recovered people pleaser (there is hope for us)

credit to @bookshelf-dust for the in house arson investigator idea !! super brilliant and perfect !! go read their stuff !!

title taken from Goddess from Laufey!

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‘Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Cause they see right through me//Can you see right through me?

-The Archer, Taylor Swift

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Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.

You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.

And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.

Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.

Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.

Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.

After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.

With the exception of Evan Buckley.

You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)

You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.

It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.

So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.

Or so you think.

“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”

“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”

You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.

“Did Buck say something to you?”

What.

“What?”

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.

“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.

Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.

You settle for the super abridged version.

“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”

You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?

Bobby hums, contemplating.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“

Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”

Too close too close too close too close—

Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.

“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”

Laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”

Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.

“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”

Flash a smile, appease the man.

“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”

You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.

That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—

A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.

It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”

You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”

“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”

“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”

You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?

What does he want?

He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.

“…Are you okay?”

You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.

“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.

“I thought you went home early last night?”

Your smile wavers.

Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)

“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”

He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.

“Why do you do that?”

Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.

“Do what?”

“That lying thing.”

Smile? Laugh? Sit down?

Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.

He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”

You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”

“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“

“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”

You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”

You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.

“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”

“Nope.”

You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”

He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”

This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”

You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”

“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”

His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.

You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.

“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”

Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“

“No, I think you meant what you said.”

He sighs. “Can we start over?”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”

PRETTY?

“You think I’m pretty?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.

You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.

“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”

“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

The gears in your brain turn.

“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”

He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”

You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”

Your words hang in silence for a moment.

“Well when you put it like that—“

“Is there another way to put it?”

“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”

You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”

His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”

“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”

Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”

You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.

“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.

“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”

“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”

He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”

Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.

He frowns. “Are you oka—“

You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”

You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.

“…Can you turn around?”

You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“

“Shut up or I’ll say no.”

He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”

“I might.”

“Mm. Nope.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”

“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”

“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”

“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”

“Ew.”

“Having friends is gross?”

“Yes. Get out of my office.”

He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”

“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”

Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?

Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“So when are you free for our date?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.

“Um. Saturday?”

“Cool. You have my number, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”

He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."

He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”

And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.

He called you pretty.

—

Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?

Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.

You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.

"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.

A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.

"Thanks."

She just nods. "Something on your mind?"

You blink, a little questioning.

"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"

"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."

You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."

"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."

Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."

"Interesting method."

You shrug. "It's Buck."

Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"

"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.

"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."

Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."

Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."

You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."

Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."

Smile. Laugh.

"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."

Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."

She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."

You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."

Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.

Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.

"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."

You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."

"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.

You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."

Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."

You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."

"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"

You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."

"Stop eating them--"

"I have to finish them!"

"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.

"Nope!" You call back.

"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."

Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"

Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"

"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"

"Because you cooked it?"

He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."

Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.

"It was a valid concern," You mumble.

"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--

"I can physically feel how tense you just got."

Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.

"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."

"You don't count."

"Mm, how come?"

You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.

"Cause you think I'm pretty."

"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."

"That's not how that works."

"It's not?"

"No."

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."

Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.

When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.

Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--

A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.

You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.

"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"

Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."

You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.

"Are... you okay?"

You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."

His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"

You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.

"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"

You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.

You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.

"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."

He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."

Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."

He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"

A beat passes.

Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."

You laugh a little, a nervous thing.

"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.

"Sorry," You say on instinct.

He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"

You look down at your feet. "My outfit."

"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."

Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--

"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."

Oh.

"But your reservation--"

"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."

Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."

"You really like those flowers, huh?"

"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"What? No way."

"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."

"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."

"We are?"

He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"

"Well it was kind of a mess."

He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."

You gape at him. "Those are real?"

He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"

He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."

You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.

You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"Absolutely. More takeout?"

"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."

He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."

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thanksbutno98 · 21 days ago

Text

Stressed Out

Simon Riley x wife!reader OC

Summary: Simon and his wife try for a fourth child.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, dirty talk, rough sex, masturbation, talks of pregnancy, mentions of infertility, not edited.

——————

“Stop fidgeting.”

“Shh.” You shushed Simon aggressively.

“Dove-“

“I said shh.” You shushed your husband again.

The two of you were sitting in a stuffy doctor’s office. Simon sat in a chair next to yours and the only reason he knew you were fighting was because the leather whined every time you moved. You felt incredibly uncomfortable being here and you regretted going this medical route.

You see, you and Simon had been trying to get pregnant for eight months now and had no success. It left you worried you weren’t able to have any more children. Simon being the lovable oaf you saw him as, kept telling you nothing was wrong. That sometimes it takes longer than expected and you stressing about it wouldn’t help. You had already had a blood test last month that showed your hormone levels were normal, now you wanted to know next steps.

When you brought up the idea of getting tested further to make sure everything was working properly the doctor recommended Simon leave a sample before you went that route. The number of crass comments that were made had the doctor turning a shade of red you didn’t think humanly possible. When Simon went to leave the sample you had gotten a barrage of text messages telling you how awful the porn they had was. It devolved into you taking a picture of your breasts in the women’s washroom. He was done before you had even made it back to the waiting room.

Now the pair of you were sat here, a week later, waiting for the results. Simon complained the entire ride here that they could have told you two over the phone. He was right. This had you nervous because in your mind the fact you had to come in person meant one of you was the problem as to why you weren’t getting pregnant. So either they needed to run more tests on you or Simons sperm count was low.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The same doctor from last time came into his office with a friendly smile.

He was a short man and built like a runner. His hair was grey but he didn’t appear to be that much older than you. He wore a bright white lab coat and had his hospital ID hooked to the pocket.

“Alright, get on with it.” Simon sounded bored out of his mind. He could be so immature in settings like this, it made you want to throttle him.

“You’re both perfectly healthy. In fact, he’s extremely fertile.” The doctor smiled at you and pointed to Simon. Simon immediately started flexing his biceps like Johnny always did when he bragged about his latest escapade.

“Wait, then why aren’t I getting pregnant?” You blurted out and swatted Simon to put his arms down.

“I believe you’ve just been unlucky. That’s why I had you come in. I wanted to make sure you’re having intercourse effectively. We don’t tend to worry until it’s been a year of trying.” The doctor started shuffling things around his desk and you felt Simon gearing up to be a smart ass.

“Oh, it’s affective.” The crass joke had you and the doctor looking at Simon unimpressed.

“I’ll need to know how often you two are having sex, if it’s during the time you’re ovulating, and if you know how to track your ovulation. Penetrative vaginal sex is the most affective way to get pregnant. I assume that what’s happening. I did-“

“We have sex as often as she lets me. . . Which is often and she has me finish in-” Simon was grinning like a fool. Something about hearing that he was extremely fertile made his ego grown twice in size.

“Simon.” You hissed before he could finish his sentence.

You talked to him about acting like a normal human when coming here. You made him promise no crude comments and he was breaking his promise.

“Look at her. You really think I’m not pawing at her every chance I get?” This was not the time or place for your husband to start flirting but he didn’t care.

“Simon, behave!” You hissed again.

“Well, Mr. Riley.” The doctor seemed to be getting fed up with your husband.

“Stress can hinder a woman’s ability to get pregnant. So, maybe some self reflection is in order and you try to not upset your wife so much. Considering how worked up you’ve gotten her in my office both times now, it doesn’t seem far fetched you do this at home.”

——————

“Guys a fuckin’ quack.” Simon growled.

You were now chasing after him in the car park while he stormed to the car. Simon had some choice words after the doctor accused him of stressing you out. You apologized profusely for Simon’s behavior, picked up the chair he flipped, and then thanked the man. He wished you a sarcastic ‘good luck’ which you weren’t sure was meant for getting pregnant or being married to Simon Riley.

“Simon, you’re acting like an ass.” You told him but he didn’t seem to care.

He was standing at the car holding your door open and looking angrier than ever.

“Bastard accuses me of stressing you out? What a fucking joke!” Simon then let out a loud dry laugh that echoed through the parking garage.

“You do stress me out.” You told him flatly.

“No I don’t.” He rebutted.

You stared at him silently. A moment passed before Simon spoke again.

“Okay, maybe I do sometimes. But enough that it’s affecting you getting pregnant? What’s load of rubbish.” Another sarcastic laugh echoed against the concrete as Simon waited for you to agree with him.

You continued to stare at him blankly. His face dropped and he seemed to get your point now.

“Fine. I stress you out. Now get in the car.” Simon ordered and aggressively motioned with his hand for you to get in.

“Simon Riley!” You snapped at him.

“Okay, okay. I’ll work on it. I’m sorry.” Simon pretended to wave a white flag of surrender to hopefully get you to lighten up.

“Thank you.” You sighed in relief. Finally getting into the car Simon left a sweet, tender kiss to your cheek.

“Now, c’mon. I’ll fuck that sour mood out of you as soon as we’re home.” He joked.

“You better.”

——————

“Girls, settle down.” Simon was attempting to clear the kitchen table after dinner while his two younger daughters, six and four, ran around screaming.

“Mel, go get your homework done please.” Your oldest daughter who was twelve, nodded and made her way upstairs.

“GRACIE!” Fae screeched in excitement while pushing Simon out of her way to keep running circles around the table.

“FAE!” Grace screamed her name back from under the round kitchen table.

“ENOUGH YELLING!” Simon was now the third person to raise his voice.

“I’ll stop when you stop.” Fae immediately bit back at her father. She was now climbing on top of the table and doing a silly dance.

“Yeah! What Fae said!” Grace stomped her foot and pointed her finger to her big sister. She too was now climbing on to the table to dance a silly dance with her sister.

“Simon.” You warned before he shouted again.

“What?” He asked defensively.

“The yelling’s stressing me out.” You told him off handedly.

You had your mind preoccupied with the school paper work in front of you. There was an incident report sent home with Fae for fighting. It wasn’t anything physical but she had cursed a little boy out for pushing her friend to the ground. Apparently she called him a ‘brainless twat’ among other things.

“No more yelling you two.” Simon pointed at Fae then to Grace. They paused in funky positions, looked at each other, then continued to do their weird little dances.

“Not their yelling. Your yelling.” You spoke forcefully.

“We’ll stop when you stop.” Grace sang. She jumped onto one of the chairs then to the floor and ran over to her father to sweetly hug Simon’s leg.

“Alright.” Simon didn’t argue back and bit his tongue.

It was dawning on him that he was really stressing you out, even when he wasn’t acting out of the ordinary. Having served along side each other in the military, Simon knew you handled stress well. You weren’t one to lose your cool or really complain about being stressed. The past week or so you had been. It was unintentionally making Simon reflect on his behavior. To him he wasn’t doing anything he didn’t normally do but maybe things had been getting to you easier because you wanted to be pregnant by now.

Taking the dinner plates and putting them in the sink Simon continued to glance between you and the dishes. He started washing them by hand and couldn’t keep himself from looking at you every so often.

“Stop staring at me. It’s stressing me out.” You warned him without looking up from the papers in front of you.

“We need to find something that doesn’t stress you out.” Simon grumbled.

“You not being in the same room.” Mel quipped as she came into the kitchen, grabbed her book bag, and then went back upstairs.

“Don’t be a smart ass.” Simon called after her.

“I’ll stop when you stop.” Mel shot back.

Simon turned to say something to you but you already had your hand up to quiet him.

“You’re stressing me out.” This time you lied. You just didn’t want to hear him complain about everyone in the house giving him a hard time.

Simon sighed heavily and silently did the dishes. Every once in a while you’d hear a giggle as he playfully tried to shake Grace off his leg. Fae soon joined and little giggles would ring out every so often.

“Fae, why’d you call this boy in your class a-“ you paused to read the incident report again.

“A ‘fuckin’ fridge?’” Your voice elevated on fridge to show your confusion.

“Cuz uncle John called dad that once. So it had to be mean.” You could barely hear Fae as Simon broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

You had heard both Simon and John Price insult each other on many occasions. Only they replaced ‘fridge’ with any inanimate object that popped into their head. Your favorite was while deployed together, Simon mouthed off and Price called him a ‘fuckin’ turnip’ and then proceeded to throw equipment in Simon’s direction. It made you wonder if Price’s kids got in as much trouble as yours did. Or if they were out there calling classmates muppets, turnips, fuck wits, or any other insult they heard from their father.

After getting your children tucked into bed you went and took a shower. They had terrorized Simon to the point he had to sit on the top stair to calm himself down. Fae and Grace threw their stuffed animals at him and then playfully screamed and ran when he gave them a menacing look.

They had no intention of listening to him if he was reasonable, sweet, or shouting. Nothing would get them to behave for him and you could tell the moment you saw him trying to wrangle them both into bed. So you took over and sent him to decompress. Only the girls kept calling for him every few minutes. You heard him start his show over countless times and wondered when he would finally get fed up.

You were now trying to destress. It was hard for you to tell if Simon was the one stressing you out or if life was getting to you. Either way you needed to get yourself back in order.

Simon was usually a sarcastic ass, but he was your sarcastic ass. You loved his smart ass comments and how socially inept he could be at times. It’s what made him charming. Not to everyone, but you found him charming. He was your big, lovable, dickish husband and you wouldn’t want him any different.

After some reasoning you decided you had been tougher on Simon than you liked. Yes, he needed a swift kick in the ass every so often to behave. But today you were starting to think you were a little too harsh by telling him he was stressing you out. So, you checked your calendar to see if you really needed to get over what you thought was misplaced annoyance and seduce your husband.

“Simon!” You called from your bedroom.

The frustration was building for Simon. This felt like the twentieth time he’d been interrupted while trying to watch his show. He had just gotten comfortable on the couch with his beer and crisps. With an angry huff Simons large hand grabbed the remote to pause his show. That’s when he saw he was four minutes and twenty two second into the episode. Five minutes, he couldn’t go five minutes in this house without someone needing him.

“What!” Simon barked back. There was a few seconds of dead air when Simon heard the bottom two stairs creak.

“Well, I was going to tell you I’m ovulating but never mind.” Your once sweet voice was now coated in disdain.

Turning quickly to look over his shoulder, Simon saw you, his beautiful wife who was clearly pissed off with him. You were standing in the doorway of the living room looking annoyed.

“Coming!” Simon was up and scrambling around the couch.

“Not after that reaction!” You snapped back and went back upstairs. Simon stopped for a second, grabbed his beer and chugged the entire glass in under ten seconds.

“Dove, wait up.” Simon was taking the stairs two at a time and caught up to you in your bedroom.

You were ready to lay into him. Forget, forgiveness or admitting you’d been snippy today. Now you were convinced he was being an ass and he was responsible for why you felt so stressed out. Turning around, you had your finger ready to be shoved into your husband face and tell him just what you thought about him barking at you.

Only he shut you up fast.

Before you knew it Simons thumb was in your mouth and pressing your tongue down so you couldn’t speak. His fingers curled around your jaw and held your face firmly like that. He had a wicked grin and eyes darker than usual.

“Shush. I’ve stressed you out, let me make it right.” Simon purred.

Your eyes went wide staring up at this massive man you called yours. With little hesitation you shook your head, not sure how your husband had tamed you so quickly.

“Bend over the bed.” Simon ordered and you obeyed.

On your way there Simon helped remove your shirt, pajama bottoms and panties. This left you completely bare and now bent over your bed with your face resting against the soft navy sheets. You could feel the massive presence of Simon looming behind you but weren’t sure what his next move was.

You sighed out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you felt his warm, rough hands on your ass. His thumbs lightly pressed into the muscles and massaged them. Slowly his hands slid to your lower back and dug out the knots from there to your shoulders. Simon took his time giving you a thorough back massage with his clothed crotched pressed against your rear, until he was back at your ass and kneading the fatty flesh.

You couldn’t see him but you knew he had a smirk on his handsome face as he pulled apart your cheeks to get a look at your pretty cunt. Simons thumbs started to massage up and down the crease of your thighs and then to your pretty lips. It felt amazing and you had to be dripping from how good and relaxed your body felt.

“Hm, so pretty.” Simon hummed before flattening his tongue and licking a firm stripe up your cunt.

You gasped at the light contact and then gasped again at Simon’s tongue expertly finding your clit and rolling it under the muscle.

“Hmm.” Simon hummed into your cunt right before his tongue started to thrust in and out of your perfect little hole.

Simon didn’t spend long on his knees. Soon he was stripping out of his clothes and positioning himself behind you. He slid his massive length between your cheeks a few times and groaned at the contact.

“Ready, dove?” It was a question that needed no answer and Simon didn’t wait for one.

Pushing his hips forward slowly, your gummy walls wrapped around him tightly until his hips were flush with your ass. Grinding his hips forward you could feel the head of his cock nudging at your cervix. Taking Simon always felt like playing a dangerous game because of his massive size. Each and every time, those first few minutes were spent adjusting and fighting against the sensation of being split in half.

“Just relax. I’ll knock you up, don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.” That thick accent you loved so much purred in your ear.

Placing his hands on either side of your head you stared at the tattoos on his arm. A sweet kiss was then laid on your temple as Simon began to roll his hips. It was measured, patient, calculated thrusts to warm you up. Breathing deeply your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the sensation of going from slightly uncomfortable at the stretch to mesmerized by the way he slid in and out of you.

You were ready for Simon, his gentle pace meant you were soaking his cock. Carefully your wrapped your fingers around each of Simon’s wrists so you would have something to help ground you. It was a silent sign you were ready for him, you had been doing this since you were dating.

With a wicked smile Simon paused his thrusts for a moment and leaned down with his mouth by your ear.

“Hold on tight.” Simon’s voice was like honey in your ears and you gripped his wrists harder in anticipation.

The first thrust was hard but not has hard as he could go. It was Simon testing the waters. The thrust after that was almost all of his strength and you reacted positively by burying your face in the comforter and muffling your moan. Feeling you grip his wrists for dear life was the last positive sign Simon needed to start laying into you.

Thank god the fan was going and the tv was playing to muffle out the sound of skin clapping skin. Simon’s eyes locked on your plump bottom jiggling with each and every thrust of his. Your moans were muffled but he knew you would be screaming if the house were empty.

With every thrust the bed creaked and mattress molded into the shape of your body getting pounded into the soft sheets. It was perfect because when Simon pulled back the mattress sprang back up in his direction and then he slammed you back into it.

The way Simon felt was all consuming. This position allowed him to throw his full body weight into it but only for so long. The last time he went in this position for too long your back had hurt for the next two days.

“Simon.” You whined, feeling your back start to ache.

That was all your husband needed to hear and he was pulling out of you. Shaking your hands off his wrists you took this moment to catch your breath. Simon grabbed your thigh and pulled so you spun around and were now lying on your back. He had done it so quickly it whipped you around. His cock was now resting on your belly showing off how deep he could reach. Tapping it a few times impatiently Simon waited for you to catch up.

“Trying to give me whiplash?” You joked but the words fell off at the end when you felt the blunt tip of your husband’s cock push into you.

Simon was holding your hips firmly and sinking into your tight heat. A new position meant waiting for the green light for the go ahead. A bit frazzled from how good it felt your fingers fumbled to find Simon’s wrists but once you did and gave him a squeeze he set off with his first few trial thrusts and then was pounding away.

“Your tits are fuckin’ gorgeous.” Simon growled, his eyes locked on to the way they bounced with each cruel slam of his hips.

“Simon, I-fuck. Rub my clit, I’m close.” You moaned softly, using all your willpower not to scream from the pleasure.

“Do it yourself.” Simon brushed you off and continued to focus on your tits bouncing and the way you were hugging him so tight.

Without thinking you pushed up with one hand behind your back and now propping you up. With the other it clapped against the back of Simons thick neck and roughly pulled him so he was now leaning down, nose to nose with you. The pure rage in your fiery eyes and the way it stung from how forcefully you grabbed his neck almost made Simon cum on the spot.

“Make me cum.” You ordered, teeth bared and a pissed off expression taking over your once blissed out face.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Simon sounded so in love in that moment, like he was in some daydream like state.

One hand left your hip while he continued his thrusts and began to play with your pretty little clit. His thumb bumped against it a few time before he truly got the digit over the bundle of nerves. You fell back into the sheets, back arching and pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Faster.” You ordered and Simons hips moved quicker making you squeak in surprise.

“Not-not your hips you idiot! Your thumb!” You sounded so frustrated with him and Simon never understood why that was such a turn on.

Simon didn’t bother slowing down on his brutal thrust but did speed up the rate he was rubbing at your cute little clit. That seemed to do it for you. Tossing your head back your fingers gripped the sheets and you gasped inaudibly. Seeing you cum and then a second later feeling you choke his cock from the base to tip drove Simon wild.

Waves of pleasure rocked your body and Simon worked you through the best of it. That was until now, as you laid on the bed sensitive and worn out and he was still going.

“Simon.” You whined, his brutal thrusts becoming too much in your blissed out state.

“Almost there.” He grunted, eyes focused on your tits until he felt your finger under his chin and tiling his head up to look at you.

“Cum.” You spoke sweetly, giving him that same smile you did back when you married him.

You joked about whiplash earlier but Simon felt he was the one truly experiencing it with your emotional back and forth. Going from being pissed off at him to now sweet as pie. And it worked. Because after a long deep moan Simon was shooting white ropes into your sore cunt. He stayed like that for a moment, deep inside you and catching his breath.

“You’re perfect.” You whispered to your hulking lover who was dwarfing you from above.

“Bed, I’m exhausted.” Pulling out and flopping on to the bed Simon shut his eyes and caught his breath.

“Easiest way to get you to sleep.” You giggled at how making Simon cum was a sure fire way to put him to sleep.

Ignoring the mess you crawled under the sheets and so did Simon. Curling up against his chest he was snoring a few minutes later. You tried to get up and clean yourself before you made the sheets messy. Only, Simon, even in his sleep, would not let go and thus you were stuck to his side. You truly didn’t mind and decided sleep was better, you’d have him change the sheets in the morning.

——————

The feeling of soft sheets and cool air greeted you this morning as your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you saw was hazel. God, how that had become your favorites color. Hazel eyes, crooked teeth, and a faded scar that hooked around the chin of pale skin of a prominent jaw.

Simons eyes were soft, drowsy, and stuck on you. That soft smile of his reminded you how he use to watch you sleep all those years ago when you served together. Some said they were unsettling but nothing settled you like his reassuring gaze. It said ‘I’ve got you.’

With gentleness that was once unknown to a man like Simon he brushed your messy bed head from your beautiful face. He didn’t have to speak a word for you to know he wanted to say he loved you. It was hard for him to say, no matter how many years had passed, but that didn’t matter. You’d hear him whisper in to you in the night when he thought you were asleep or when you were wrangling your kids and he assumed you were too distracted to hear.

“Thanks for last night.” You smiled at Simon in the early morning light. He shook his head, acknowledging your sweet words.

“I love you.” You whispered.

It made your heart stutter to see the way his eyes softened even more and lashes fluttered at your words. The warm lazy smiled soon revealed a toothy grin.

“Back at you, dove.” Simon returned your words with just as much gentleness. And just as easily as he laid here with you this lazy morning he shifted back into his brooding sarcastic self.

“Take a test, last night was the one.” He joked. Before you could even roll your eyes the covers were tossed off of you.

Simon dragged your naked body across the bed and kissed your belly all over. You broke out into a fit of laughter because his stubble was tickling your soft skin. Breaking free you scrambled out of bed and went straight for the bathroom.

“It won’t come out positive that fast.” You chuckled.

“Humor me.” Simon called to you and your response was to shut the bathroom door.

Shrugging you decided to take the test. It would only confirm what you already knew. You grabbed an old discarded shirt of Simon’s from the floor and put it on. Tapping your foot you scrolled on your phone until the timer went off. Barely looking at the plastic test you picked it up and headed for the bin to toss it out. You froze mid stride.

It was positive.

“No fucking wonder I can’t stand him right now.” You chuckled to yourself. This was so relieving.

Pregnancy test’s use to set your teeth on edge, now it brought joy. You wanted to holler and cheer that this had finally happened. But that wasn’t really like you. So with a huge smile you went to go get your pain in the of an ass husband.

“Oi, asshole.” You called to Simon as you exited the bathroom.

You were beaming and looking like you shallowed the sun. He was out of bed and pulling his sweatpants. Holding up the plastic test Simon stared at you with a crooked smile from across the room.

“I know. Makes sense why you’ve hated me the past week.” Simon spoke knowingly and gave you a wink.

“You knew?” You blurted out, arm falling to your side.

“Course. You haven’t been able to stand me being in the same room as you for more than ten minutes; and you know how you get mean when you’re pregnant. You ate half the trey of brownies last night-“

You opened your mouth to deny that but Simon pointed at you and gave you a stern look.

“Don’t deny it.” Then he continued. His words had your mouth clamping shut.

“And the biggest tell. . . Your tits are swollen. It’s why I was able to leave that sample so quick. You pregnant does it for me.” With a shrug Simon moved to go put on a shirt and go about his day before his hellions woke up.

“You ass. Why didn’t you ask me to take a test sooner?” Waltzing over you tossed the test at his head but he quickly ducked and started deeply laughing.

“Would you have listened?” Simon asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“No. Would’ve waited for my missed period.” You muttered. Crossing your arms over your chest you averted your gaze.

“That’s why.” Kissing your cheek Simon wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Congratulations, dove.” Simon spoke softly into the crown of your head.

“I’m so excited.” Melting into his embrace you felt your legs turn to jello as Simon said exactly what you needed to hear.

“Love you. Forever.”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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imaginedisish · 9 months ago

Text

Wild Horses (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Proofreading took way longer than I thought; sorry this didn't go up on time, y'all. Anyway, the song references came from an idea from an anon, but the fic itself isn't a request. Working through requests now (sorry I haven't been doing more). I really like this fic, and I hope you guys do too. There are a couple of songs in this one, but "Wild Horses" by the Stones is def a Logan song. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan takes you out for a friendly drink...that ends up being more than just friendly.

Warnings: 18+ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, porn with very little plot, implied!age gap (Logan is older than everyone, tho?), friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, feelings, f!reader/afab!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,362 back on my BS

You’re sitting in a chair in the hallway, decompressing from the day—which, to be honest, is impossible in a place like this. Kids playing, running, yelling, T.Vs blaring all across the mansion. It’s always so noisy, always so active. And sometimes, that can be too much.

A cacophony of voices bursts down the hall. One is bassy, louder, angrier than all the others. You smile softly to yourself. Logan. You can hear his footsteps against the hardwood floors as he makes his way towards the front door. He has his keys in his hand, and his leather jacket on his back.

You perk up, trying not to seem upset that he’s on his way out. Although it’s probably no use; you wear your heart on your sleeve. You care about Logan, and that care extends beyond friendship. You’ve wanted him for months, but you’re not quite sure if he’ll ever feel the same. You’re friends—close friends—but just friends.

He looks over to you, his frown suddenly turning to a smile. “I’m going out,” he says, nodding to the door. “Wanna come?”

“S-sure,” you stutter, pushing yourself up from your chair. You look down at your denim shorts and tank top. “I don’t know if I should change tho—” “You look perfect,” Logan says, shaking his head and smiling. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you try your best not to overthink Logan’s words. His hand is at your back, warm and undeniably massive, guiding you with him to the door.

A cough erupts from behind you. “Where are you going, Logan?” You know exactly whose voice that is.

You and Logan turn around, and there’s Scott. “Out,” is all Logan says, gruff and short.

“We aren’t done talking, and you still have to run drills with—”

But Logan is tugging your arm and leading you out the door and towards the garage before Scott can get a word in.

“Logan!” Scott calls from the front door. But Logan doesn’t stop, his hand now clasping around yours. He raises his fist in the air and unleashes just one of his claws: the middle. You giggle as Logan leads you inside the garage.

He walks you to the passenger door of his truck, opening it for you and closing it once you’re safe inside. It doesn’t hit you until he’s walking around the front that he opened the door for you.

He slips in the driver’s side door and turns the key in the ignition, the truck springing to life. He pulls out of the garage, down the driveway, and through the gate.

“So, where are we going?” You ask, turning to face Logan.

His eyes drift between you and the road, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thought maybe we could get a drink,” he says, eyes on you again. There’s something behind his stare—a softness, maybe. It’s intoxicating and dizzying. It’s so distracting that you have to force yourself to acknowledge what he said.

“Sounds good,” you finally answer, smiling back at him. He nods, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, dangerously close to your bare thigh.

The ride to the bar is quick and quiet, but not uncomfortable. You feel safe with Logan, cozy, like you could have spent the entire night just driving around with him. The bar looks like a little cabin—definitely Logan’s kind of place. It’s quaint, and perhaps a tad divey. But you don’t mind. You’re with Logan; that’s all that matters.

He slips out of the car, and you follow suit. He’s at your side when you open the door, smirking, holding out his hand to help you out of the truck. You take it, stepping onto the gravel of the parking lot. You think he’ll let go, that he’ll drop your hand to your side, but he doesn’t.

Logan leads the way into the honeyed, yellow light of the bar. It spills across the porch as he opens the door, the light consuming you as you walk inside. The bar is warm, filled with couples and friends sharing drinks and listening to music. Some people are dancing over by a set of speakers. You smile, instantly recognizing the song blaring from the speakers.

I met her in a club down in old Soho Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola C-O-L-A, Cola

You sing along, mouthing the words to Logan. A grin spreads across his face, his gaze flitting between your eyes and your lips. “You know this song? You like The Kinks?” He asks, his eyes narrowing as he tugs you over to a stool at the bar.

“Of course! How old do you think I am?” You ask, moving your shoulders to the song as you sit down.

He smirks, shaking his head. “Younger than me!” He shouts over the music, sitting down next to you, finally letting go of your hand. You wish he didn’t. You wish he held on.

“Everyone is younger than you!” You shout back, singing the lyrics and swaying your head from side to side.

Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy But when she squeezed me tight, she nearly broke my spine Oh, my Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo-Lola

Logan is watching you—watching the way your lips make that O in Lola, the way your hips shake in the chair, the way you throw your head back laughing when you mess up a line. He’s entranced by you. You finally notice him watching, and you giggle, hiding your face in your hands.

Your eyes widen as his hands come up to yours, tearing them away from your face. “No hiding,” he says softly, so only you can hear him. “It was cut—”

“What’ll you two be having?” The bartender interrupts, arms crossed against his chest, towel thrown over his shoulder.

“I’ll have a Coors, and she’ll have…” Logan turns to look at you, and you nod towards him. He takes the hint immediately, as if he can read your mind. “The same as me.” You smile as the bartender walks away to get your drinks.

You part your lips, almost ready to ask Logan what he was going to say before the bartender cut him off, but you’re interrupted again as your beers are placed in front of you.

“Thanks, bub,” Logan says, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and slapping it on the counter. The bartender grabs the bill and walks off to help the next patron.

“So…” you trail off, watching as more people drift to the makeshift dance floor. “Have you been here before?” You ask, making conversation. There’s something about being out with Logan that makes you more nervous than usual. He’s never awkward to be around or hard to talk to. But in here? Out together? Alone? This is different. It’s almost like…

A date.

“Just a few times,” Logan answers, snapping you back to reality. His long fingers wrap around the neck of his bottle, and he takes a swig. You catch the way he licks the little droplets on his upper lip, his tongue darting out all quick and gentle. You can’t help but wonder what his tongue would feel like against your own lips, and in other places too. Now is certainly one of those moments when you’re thankful Logan isn’t a telepath.

You trace your fingers over the wet, cool bottle and take a swig, too. It’s ice cold, the alcohol burning at the back of your throat ever so slightly. Lola fades out, and Whole Lotta Love starts up. You nod your head, singing along in between quick sips.

Logan shakes his head. “This one too?”

“Oh my god, old man,” you remark sardonically. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“Didn’t peg you for a Zeppelin girl,” Logan says, tipping his bottle to you. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you say, meeting his bottle with yours. The clink is almost suppressed by the bass of the music. You bring the beer back to your lips and watch as Logan sips, too.

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling the bottle away. “What else don’t I know?” He leans in, his shoulder brushing yours. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the music pumping through your body, but you find the courage to lean into him. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco on his flannel, his body.

Your face is inches from his as you turn towards him, your noses practically touching. “I like dancing,” you hum. You down the last dregs of your beer and set it on the counter, grabbing Logan’s arm as Robert Plant’s voice croons throughout the bar.

Way down inside

He knocks back the last of his beer, placing it on the counter as you tug him to the outskirts of the dance floor.

Woman, you need, yeah

“I don’t usually dance,” he says, his hands finding your waist despite his words. He squeezes softly.

Love...

“But I’ll dance with you,” he says against the shell of your ear. And then his hips are rocking into yours, swaying with you to the beat. He’s never been this close, never this intimate with you. His lips ghost yours as the guitar and the drums echo against the wood floors and walls of the bar.

Shake for me girl

I wanna be your backdoor man

You need more, need him closer. Logan pulls you in—chest to chest—his grip on your waist tightening. His hands slide around your back, slipping under your shirt. Your heart beats out of your chest as his fingers trail up and down your back. His lips find your ear again.

“You’re pretty when you dance,” he whispers. “Pretty all the time.”

You look up at him as the song fades out. You part your lips to say something, but the next song starts up before you can find the words. You recognize the opening riff immediately, the acoustic guitar strumming gently through the speakers. It’s slow and soft. Logan pulls you back into his arms, closer this time. His palms rest against your lower back, and you let your arms wrap around his neck.

“Don’t tell me you know this one too,” he husks, his lips at your ear again.

Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can't let you

Slide through my hands

You smile into the crook of his neck. “Of course I do,” you answer. “Wild Horses. The Stones.”

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs, pressing his hips harder against yours. You let your head fall to his shoulder as you lean into his chest. You can feel that ache between your legs spreading like wildfire. Friends don’t talk like this. Friends don’t dance like this.

Because maybe you two aren’t friends. Maybe you never have been.

“Logan,” you call, lifting your head.

He’s just centimeters away, his eyes locked on yours. He tightens his hold on your lower back, your foreheads pressing together. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.”

And then his lips find yours, consuming you, engulfing you like an open flame. He’s warm and soft, better than black treacle and golden honey and maple syrup. It’s slow and languid, his arms wrapping around you tighter, trying to pull you closer.

Wild horses

Couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We'll ride them someday

You reluctantly pull away as the song goes on, looking up at Logan—looking for more.

“We should get out of here,” he says, keeping one hand firmly around your waist as he guides you off the dance floor and towards the door.

He grips you tightly as you head to the truck, practically breaking the passenger door off the hinges as he opens it for you. He closes the door more carefully now that you’re inside. In the blink of an eye, Logan is on the other side, opening the driver’s door and slipping in. He turns the key in the ignition, and quickly makes his way out of the parking lot and onto the road.

His hand moves across the center console and finds your bare thigh—exactly where you wanted him to be on the way here. His thumb brushes gentle circles into your skin. Something about it is possessive, like he needs to touch you, needs to know that you’re not going anywhere. His foot is practically through the floor as he presses down on the gas, racing back to the mansion.

A few minutes later, Logan is pulling into the garage, his hand giving your thigh one last squeeze before putting the truck in park. And then you’re both tumbling out of the truck and towards the mansion.

Logan’s hand finds yours, tugging you along and through the door. The mansion is swallowed in darkness save for the few hall lights scattered here and there.

He suddenly pins you against the wall, his lips capturing yours. “Could fuck you right here,” he whispers. “But I wanna fuck you properly.” He steals another kiss before letting you go and leading you up the stairs towards his bedroom.

Logan twists the doorknob and guides you inside. Moonlight pushes through his curtains, washing his bed in white light. He turns around to face you, grabbing your waist and pushing you against the door. He’s caging you in, towering over you.

“Logan,” you whisper, his lips crashing down on yours again. He’s all firm and solid against you. He bites your lower lip, his tongue swiping across to soothe the sting. You can feel his erection straining in his jeans, throbbing. He needs you, and you need him too.

“Want you so fucking bad, pretty girl,” Logan says between kisses. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing gently before hoisting you up in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the room. He settles you in the center of the bed and climbs on top of you. He’s straddling you now, grabbing the bottom of his flannel and pulling it up and over his head. He’s wearing one of those beaters that you love so much underneath—tight against his abs.

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm while his free hand explores your body. He slips under your tank top, his fingernails tracing every inch of your stomach. Your shirt hikes up as he reaches higher. He finally hits the hem of your bra and looks down at you.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his fingers dipping tentatively underneath your bra.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, arching up into his touch. “More than anything.”

His hand slips around your back in an instant, unclasping your bra before you fall back down to the mattress. He sits up, knees on either side of your waist, straddling you again.

He grabs the hem of your shirt and practically tears it from your body, your bra falling away with it, leaving your upper half bare before him. His hands find your tits, grabbing, squeezing, palming them. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He settles back down over you, resting on his forearm as his free hand continues to glide over your breasts, pinching and pawing.

“Lo,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together, searching for more friction. “N-need…” You trail off, unable to finish a coherent thought.

“I know, princess,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with a kiss. His lips trail to your jaw, your pulse point, and down to your collarbone. He keeps moving down, pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts and then to your belly button. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands and settles between them, his fingers tracing the skin just above the waistband of your shorts.

You sit up on your elbows, staring down at him. He smiles softly, cocking his head as one of his hands unbuttons your shorts and pulls the zipper down. He’s teasing you, leading you on as he thumbs your clit through the denim. A jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. You can tell by that smirk, that look on his face, that he’s loving this.

“Please,” you whimper, and Logan obliges, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs and throwing them over his shoulder.

He settles back in between your thighs, his palms splayed on either side. His breath is hot against your cunt. “You gonna keep these pretty legs spread for me?” He huffs, and you nod emphatically. You need him now—you can’t wait any longer.

“Lo,” you whine again. “Please, fuc—”

But you’re cut off as he licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. He does it again, another slow, long stripe. He’s taking you in, consuming you, committing your taste to memory. He smiles against you as one of his hands climbs up your inner thigh.

“Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, the bass of his voice rocking through your body. His fingers finally find your folds, your slit, spreading your slick before gently prodding your entrance. “Pretty little pussy,” Logan murmurs, shoving two fingers deep inside you. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly, his teeth grazing the bud.

You curse under your breath as he laps at you—starving, reckless. His face is buried deep in your cunt, his hair a mess. His fingers pump in and out, deepening with every thrust. His tongue swirls around your clit, drawing hard, fast circles. You’re already getting close. It’s all too much—the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot every time.

“I-I—” you stutter, throwing your head back as your walls flutter around Logan’s fingers.

He chuckles against you. “You what, pretty girl?” He pulls your clit into his mouth again, sucking harder this time. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”

“F-fuck,” you stammer. “Y-you. Just need you.”

“Yeah?” Logan answers. You can feel him smirking between laps. “Just me?” And then he’s adding a third finger, plunging deep inside. He’s dragging against your walls, scissoring inside you.

“Y-yes,” you answer, arching your back as he pumps in and out, down to the knuckles with every thrust. “Only you.” Logan mutters a curse against your cunt as he buries himself deeper inside. “Need you too,” he hums, his tongue flicking your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “Such a good girl,” he praises. “Can feel you getting closer, sweetheart.” As if on command, your walls clench around him, taking him in deeper.

“Feels so good,” you choke. He’s pushing you over the edge, and you can’t hold back anymore. “L-Lo I’m gonna—” “That’s it, pretty girl. I’ve got you,” he coos between harsh laps, his pace unrelenting. “Let go for me.”

And then you’re coming undone around him, your walls contracting and fluttering. Pleasure washes over you in warm waves like liquid fire. You’re trembling underneath him, his head still buried between your legs. His thumb brushes over your hip comfortingly as his pumps slow and his fingers slip out. His tongue drags through your folds a few more times, savoring you, before he pulls away and looks up at you.

“You okay?” He asks, his tongue swiping out to lick your juices from his lips as he sits up on his knees.

You nod, reaching out to him. “Need you, now,” you beckon. Logan smiles, grabbing the hem of his beater and tugging it over his head. He unbuckles his belt, letting it fall to the floor as he works at his button and zipper. His fingers hook into the waistbands of his jeans and boxers, yanking them down his legs.

His cock springs up to his stomach, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop at the sight. Your breath catches in your throat at the size of him. You always thought he’d be big, but he’s massive.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he husks, settling between your legs as he lowers down over you. He balances on his forearm as his hand wraps around his erection, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his tip sliding through your folds. “Gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s filling you up, bottoming out with one thrust. Your chest is flush with his, his cock unmoving inside you. You’ve never felt so full, so whole. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. He pulls out and plunges back in, down to the hilt again. “So fucking perfect.”

His hand lets go of his cock but stays between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling softly. He starts to set a rhythmic, gentle pace, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him. But you know he can’t hold himself back for much longer. You can feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your walls as he drags himself in and out.

You rock your hips against his. “Logan,” you moan. “M-more.”

His lips find yours—two puzzle pieces coming together. “You sure, sweetheart?” He asks, his thumb adding more pressure to your clit.

You nod. “Y-yes,” you stutter. “I can t-take it.”

He curses under his breath, pulling out and slamming back in. He pounds into you, his cock hitting that spot deep inside, where you need him most. “Wanted you this whole time, pretty girl,” Logan grunts, thrusting in and out carelessly, punishingly. “Thought about you all the time, thought about fucking you just like this.”

“Th-thought about you too, Lo,” you whimper.

His cock twitches inside you. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans, his hips snapping against yours, thumb flicking your clit. “Say it again.” “Lo,” you pant as he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, fingers clinging to his biceps. “Logan,” you moan again, his name the only thing on your mind.

Your walls flutter around him as he pounds into you with reckless abandon. “That feel good, sweetheart? You like when I take what I want?”

“Fuck, Lo, yes,” you whine. You’re growing closer and closer with each snap of his hips, with every swipe of his thumb against your clit. You know you can’t last much longer, not with his lips on yours, not with his praises floating through the air.

“Doing so good for me, princess,” he whispers, his voice deep and raspy. “Taking me so well. Can feel you squeezing me.”

You contract around him as he sinks inside you, working you open with every thrust. It’s too much. “L-Lo,” you stammer. “I’m s-so…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering open and closed.

“I know, princess. I’ve got you,” he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.” His thumb circles your clit, faster, harder, still splitting you open with every pump. “Know you can come again; know you can take it.”

You shatter underneath him as the words leave his lips, falling apart in his arms. “Logan!” You cry out, your orgasm crashing into you, harder this time. His thumb is still on your clit, his cock pumping in and out with no signs of stopping. He isn’t letting up or letting go. Your nails dig into his biceps, searching for support, purchase, something, anything.

Logan slams into you, chasing his own orgasm as that tension builds inside you again, liquid heat raging through your body. “Lo,” you whine. “It’s s-so much.” The pressure is so intense it almost burns, but it burns deliciously. It’s thick and hazy, dizzying and uncontrollable.

“Just a little more, pretty girl,” Logan soothes, his pace faltering, growing sloppier with each pump. “Know you have another in you, know you can take it.”

He flicks your clit, electricity sparking at the base of your spine. You’re so close again, ready to burst. “C-close,” you stammer.

“Me too, pretty girl,” Logan grunts, cock twitching against your walls. “Wanna fill you up, wanna stay inside.”

You wrap your arms around his back, keeping his chest pressed to yours. “P-please,” you whimper, clenching down around him uncontrollably. His thumb is still stroking your clit, back and forth, drawing rough, tight circles.

“Come on, princess. Come on my cock again,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You listen, his name on your lips as you let go underneath him. You’re melting into the sheets, dissolving into nothingness, into air, as your orgasm courses through you.

Logan lets go too, filling you up, spilling inside you. “So fucking beautiful like this. Always so beautiful,” he praises, his thrusts slowing as he rides out his orgasm. He pulls out, his thumb stroking your clit a few more times, easing you down from your high.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, rolling onto his side and tugging you with him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about doing that…how long I’ve thought about you,” Logan confesses, his fingers drawing abstract shapes across your lower back. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.”

Your chests heave together, breathing in time. You can feel him, still half hard against your thigh. “I thought you saw me as just a friend,” you say, smiling at how quickly things have changed in one night.

Logan shakes his head, smiling back. “Never saw you as just a friend, princess.” He presses another kiss to your lips, savoring the feeling of you against him. “Should’ve taken you out sooner.” He presses his forehead to yours. “But I would’ve waited…waited forever just for you.”

You can see the adoration in his eyes, the love. And you know he means it. You bury your head into his chest. “I love you, Lo,” you whisper.

“I love you too, princess. Always have.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Wolverine x reader smut #James Logan Howlett x reader smut #Logan Howlett smut #Wolverine smut #James Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x you smut #Wolverine x you smut #James Logan Howlett x you smut #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #Wolverine fanfiction

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dreaming-medium · 2 years ago

Text

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Breeding - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?

—————————————————————————

“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.

A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.

“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.

He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.

“Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”

You sigh.

“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”

“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”

Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”

“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”

“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”

“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”

Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.

The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.

It was always one of Chan’s favorites.

“How long until the trip?” he asks.

“Next weekend.”

“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”

You force a laugh. “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”

“Your family is great and you know it.”

“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” You motion your arms up to the ceiling wildly in an exasperated movement. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”

Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”

“Which one?”

“Lily.”

“She’s twelve.”

“Twelve and in love with you.”

Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.

Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.

“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.

“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.

“You can come with me!”

“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”

“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”

Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.

Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.

“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”

“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.

You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.

He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.

“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”

Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”

“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”

——————————————

The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.

“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”

Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.

“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”

Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”

You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”

Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.

As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.

“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.

“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”

“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”

“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”

“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”

At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.

“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”

His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.

“About three week-”

He moves about wildly.

“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”

Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.

“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”

A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.

“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”

“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”

“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”

Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.

“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”

You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.

The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.

“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”

“It seems so.”

Another bout of silence.

Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.

“I’ll uh… find the address.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.

——————————————

Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.

“Our first date?” he asks.

“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”

“Second date?”

“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”

“When did we become official?”

“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”

“And?”

“You kissed me at my door.”

“Good.”

You both pause for a moment.

“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.

Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”

You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”

“No way, I kissed you.”

Chan puts the car into park.

“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.

“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt.

“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”

Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.

He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.

“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.

The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.

“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.

Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.

They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.

“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.

Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.

“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.

He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.

“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.

Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.

A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.

Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”

Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.

The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.

Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.

“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”

He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.

The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.

“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.

“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”

You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.

The singular bed in the room.

Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.

He closes the door behind you both.

“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.

He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.

What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.

It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.

The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.

“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.

“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.

“I’m not cold all the time.”

“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”

“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”

There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”

——————————————

Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.

Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.

Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.

There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.

This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.

Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.

Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.

“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”

“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.

“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”

Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”

“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.

Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.

“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”

“I think I can get used to that.”

“You better.”

A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”

——————————————

“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.

“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.

The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.

“No, me!”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.

“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.

“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.

Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.

Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.

“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.

The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.

Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.

The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.

He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.

It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.

“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.

“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.

“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.

Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.

“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.

Your little cousin groans.

“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.

After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.

Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.

The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.

Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.

You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.

Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”

A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”

Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.

The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.

Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.

Well, if he’s playing the part.

You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.

Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.

Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.

The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.

Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.

Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chan melted into your touch so easily.

In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.

He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.

Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.

One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.

Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.

Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”

Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”

“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.

Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.

It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.

Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.

“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.

“I know.”

——————————————

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.

A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.

A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.

The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.

The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.

A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.

Chan, it’s Chan behind you.

You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.

But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.

It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.

They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.

Your bedroom door is practically flung open.

Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.

He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.

Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.

You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.

“Noooo…” you moan out.

Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”

She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”

Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.

This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.

Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.

“Chaaan!” she giggles.

After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.

“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.

He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.

Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.

Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.

What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?

What if it was his?

His eyes flicker all over your face.

Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.

——————————————

“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.

He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.

You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.

When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.

Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.

Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.

She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”

Your family can be so crass sometimes.

Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”

“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”

“She never stops.”

Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”

Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.

Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.

“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.

“And?”

“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.

You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.

He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.

“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.

Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.

In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.

——————————————

The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.

It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.

Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.

“I’m never going to get to bed.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.

“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“I know!” He whined.

You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Literally this morning!”

“Fine, fine.”

He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.

The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.

Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.

Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.

“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.

“Pity,” you tease him.

“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.

Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.

You hit the ball and sink one in.

With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.

The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.

You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.

Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.

“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.

He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.

The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.

“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.

His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.

Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.

Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–

“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Shoot,” he exhales.

With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.

You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.

“Take that!”

When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.

And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out.

You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.

Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.

Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.

You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?

He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.

Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.

Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.

His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”

Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.

Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.

You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.

“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.

“But I–”

“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.

Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.

Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.

As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.

Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”

God.

His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.

“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”

Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.

“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.

Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.

Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.

Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.

His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.

Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.

Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.

Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.

He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.

Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.

You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.

His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.

After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.

He can’t help but smirk into your folds.

Every single moan is music to his ears.

Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.

It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.

But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”

He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.

You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.

Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.

“Chan,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.

“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.

How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.

“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.

A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.

“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”

Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.

“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”

In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.

Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.

Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.

Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.

“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”

Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.

When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.

He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.

With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”

An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.

Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.

“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”

Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.

He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.

You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.

Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.

“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.

Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.

“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”

Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.

“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”

His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.

Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?

“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.

Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.

Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.

Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.

“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”

He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.

Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.

Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.

Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.

“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”

Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.

“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”

Over and over again he fucks into you.

After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.

“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”

You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.

Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.

Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.

“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Another whine is stopped by his hand.

“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”

Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”

Arching your back, you press into him more.

“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”

You nod pathetically.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His thrusts start growing erratic.

You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.

Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.

“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”

He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.

Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.

“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.

“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”

“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”

When you turn your head, your lips smash together.

The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.

You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.

“Fuck me full, daddy.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.

“Say it again.”

“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.

“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.

“Daddy.”

A bite to your neck.

“Again.”

“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”

“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.

With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.

His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.

Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.

You feel so full.

Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pants heavily into your ear.

Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.

His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.

But still, he hasn’t pulled out.

Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.

You can’t catch your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I love you.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.

“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.

Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.

It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.

His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.

Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?

Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.

“Are you still hard?” you pant.

Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.

“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”

#skz smut #stray kids kinktober #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz kinktober #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang Chan x reader smut #skz x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut #bang chan x y/n

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loganhowlettshousewife · 6 months ago

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animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea.

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn.

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him.

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger.

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look.

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long.

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months ago

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Brighter, Sweeter Days

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!baker!reader

Summary: Tim comes to your bakery daily, and you try to brighten his day to get him to notice you. When he finally shows you he has noticed you, there's a lot you have to tell him.

Warnings: minor injuries, fluff!!!

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

A wave of hot air greets you as you open the oven. Pulling the cookie sheet from the left side and a muffin pan from the right, you smell the intermingled brown sugar, maple, and orange. After the hot pans have been safely placed on one of your bakery’s tables, you close the oven and remove your heatproof gloves.

“I really hope you have more maple biscotti because there’s a really cute firefighter and I can’t slip him my number if we can’t fulfill his order,” your employee, Melanie, rambles as she enters the heart of the bakery.

“Just pulled some out of the oven,” you answer. “It’ll be about ten minutes before we can box them, though. Offer to throw in a dozen free cookies or a coffee traveler.”

“Yes, chef!” she calls over her shoulder.

“And stop watching The Bear before work every day,” you murmur as you check the consistency of a new whipped buttercream.

Several years ago, you opened your bakery in Mid-Wilshire, Los Angeles, and remain shocked at how well it has done. There have been celebrities who travel hours just to try your creations based on the good word of a few locals, you’ve had to close at lunch more than once because you ran out of food, and yet you’ve only been in the front of the bakery a dozen times since opening.

You’re shy, passionate about baking, and less of a people person than most business owners, so you spend your days in the back as your dedicated employees create a friendly and welcoming environment for your customers to come in, enjoy the atmosphere, and try a delicious baked good or slow-roasted coffee.

After the morning rush, during which you make three cakes, drizzle white chocolate on your newest biscotti, and decorate sugar cookies, Melanie returns to the back of the bakery. She sighs and leans on a table.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

“Good. Seemed busier than usual, lots of law enforcement,” she explains, peeking into a mixing bowl.

“Those are scraps from cake pops,” you tell her. “Help yourself.”

“You’re an angel,” she sighs. “A walking, shy so not much into talking, angel.”

You roll your eyes and begin folding chocolate swirls into croissant dough. “And the firefighter?”

“He thought they’d love some coffee but refused to accept it without paying. So, I slipped an angel food cake and my number into his bag.”

You nod and continue working on the croissants, but when Melanie continues to watch you, you know there’s more she isn’t saying. Turning, you set aside the spatula and raise your brows.

“My psych professor moved our exam up and I can’t come in tomorrow,” she explains quickly. “I know it’s your busiest day and I’m so so sorry. I can ask around and see if Cass or somebody can cover me.”

You wave your hand and assure, “It’s okay. I’ll cover you. Good luck on your exam, okay? If you want to leave early today to study or get some rest, do that, too.”

“Now I feel worse for leaving you.”

Tim turns his alarm off and sighs. It’s his birthday, and he’s alone. Lucy insisted on bringing cupcakes, and Angela offered to take him to lunch. Tim appreciates their kindness, but it’s not quite the same as having someone to truly celebrate with, besides Kojo, who he wouldn’t trade for the world, of course.

As Tim gets ready, he asks himself what he’d want if he was in a relationship. What would they do that would make today so different? Breakfast in bed is one of the first ideas that pops into his head. So, Tim searches for bakeries that aren’t far out of his way. One five-star option appears on the list, and Tim reads the directions as he walks to his truck.

As Tim walks in, he notices how nice the bakery is. There’s a line, but it moves quickly. He scans the menu on the large chalkboard over the counter as he waits, but he knows what he wants when his eyes drop to the display case.

An employee places another plate in the case, a birthday cake-flavored mini souffle that makes Tim smile. When he reaches the register, he forgets about the cookie that caught his attention.

You take another order and glance at the line. There are two times when you’re so busy it’s hard to remember to breathe, and you’re currently between those. Though you don’t love working here with customers, you do enjoy seeing the smiles on people’s faces when they find their new favorite.

Someone in the line catches your eye. He’s wearing an LAPD shirt, and you assume he’s a higher-ranking officer. He smiles as Mitch places a birthday cake souffle in the display case, and you wonder if it’s his birthday.

“Good morning,” you greet when he reaches the register. “What can I get you today?”

He hesitates for a moment, then asks for one of your jumbo cookies and two dozen chocolate chip cookies. Glancing at the menu, he also adds coffee to his order. You press the buttons for the two dozen cookies and the coffee, but make a note to include the jumbo cookie for free.

“Mitch,” you call when he passes again. “Take over for a minute?”

“Sure thing,” he tells you.

“I’ll grab that for you now,” you tell the attractive cop, whose name you now know is Tim.

“Thanks,” he replies before stepping to the side with his coffee.

You use clean plastic tongs to place thirty chocolate chip cookies in a branded box, then pull a jumbo cookie from the warmer. It’s already boxed, so you take a marker out of a nearby drawer and write Happy Birthday with a little candle drawn beside it. If it’s not his birthday, he’ll think it was the wrong box, but either way, you hope it’ll brighten his day. With the cookies placed in a bag, you hand it over the counter and thank Tim for coming in. You hope you’ll see him again. With your tendency to work in the back and the high number of one-time customers you get, you try not to get your hopes up.

The drive to the station is spent in silence. The radio is off as Tim enjoys what he considers the best cup of coffee. His mind continues to return to you, the cute girl at the bakery, who he could tell was a little shy. Your service was great, but you didn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes or engage in small talk.

After parking in the station lot, Tim pulls his jumbo cookie from the bag. The birthday wishes make him smile, and he shakes his head as he wonders how you knew. Granted, it could have been the wrong box or something, but Tim prefers the idea that you did it special for him. The receipt is on the bottom of the box, and he pulls it away only to see that you gave him the cookie for free. Maybe it will be a good birthday, after all, he thinks.

Tim enjoys half of his cookie, then returns it to the box to save for later. Tim will most certainly be returning to the bakery because your smile and the taste of the coffee and the cookies together are pretty close to perfection.

Tim sets the cookies on a central table in the bullpen and opens the box. He can immediately tell that there are more than 24 cookies, and he shakes his head at your kindness.

“Happy birthday!” Lucy calls as she runs to his side.

“Thanks,” Tim replies, in a better mood than the last decade of birthdays combined.

“You’re back!” you cheer when Tim returns the following morning. Melanie called to tell you her exam went well, but she had to wait for the essay portion to be graded, and you invited her to rest at home one more day while she waited. So, you’re at the front again.

“I am. Thank you for the birthday note yesterday,” Tim replies, smiling. He has a gorgeous smile, you think. “How did you know?”

“I noticed you smile when the birthday cake souffle came out,” you explain softly, shrugging rather than providing more explanation.

“I really appreciate it. My coworkers loved the cookies, too.”

“I’m glad. You want to try something else today?”

Tim smiles, and you unconsciously move your fingers to the side of the register where you can include discounts and freebies.

“What do you recommend?” he inquires.

“Our maple pumpkin biscotti cupcakes are pretty well-loved. I like the chocolate swirl croissant,” you answer. “It’s new, but..”

“Then I’ll take thirty-six of those cupcakes and two of the croissants. On one condition.”

“Yes?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Let me pay for it this time.”

You nod once and type in the order. As Tim steps to the side, you begin helping the next customer and whisper to Mitch to give the officer a small coffee with the excuse of preparing it too soon for a pickup order.

“I’m paying for it,” Tim insists after it’s left on the counter.

You ignore him, smiling as you take another order, and Mitch gives him the bag of cupcakes.

“See you,” Tim calls as he leaves.

“Have a good day!” you call after him.

When you return to the kitchen around 10 a.m., you sigh and set out to make something you think Tim will love.

Over the next two weeks, Tim comes in daily. He gets something for the officers at this station or just a treat for himself, and on one busy morning, he says hello and orders a coffee. You look forward to seeing him each morning, finding an excuse to be at the front during his usual time. He is the kindest customer you have ever had, and you want to ask him out. Each morning, you give yourself a pep talk and get encouragement from Melanie or Mitch, then get shy and fail to tell him how you feel. So, you find a way to brighten his day and remind him you’re there and you see him. You slip him a freebie, give him a free coffee, charge him for a smaller size than what you give him, or ask him to test a new item and get back to you. If it’s not on the menu, I can’t charge you was your excuse for the last one.

As far as you can tell, he has noticed you. He comes in and immediately finds you or keeps his eyes on the kitchen door until you exit. Yet, he hasn’t said any more than you have. Eventually, one of you will say something… or so you hope.

You’ve slowly opened up but can’t speak more than a few sentences before you remember who you’re talking to and get shy again. Tim asks about you, how you’re doing, what your favorite menu item is, what you’ve baked recently, and you gladly listen when he tells you about himself in return. It seems like you're getting to know him, but you still want so much more.

One morning, nearly three weeks after meeting Tim, you glance at the clock again. He’s late. Or he isn’t coming. As you leave the counter and return to the kitchen, you make red velvet cupcakes for a large order and try not to think about Tim. You didn’t say anything for three weeks, there is no reason to assume that he had any real reason to come back.

Melanie enters the kitchen, and you look up hopefully, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sure he was just running late or had to go in early. He’ll be back tomorrow,” she says softly.

You shake your head and begin portioning the cake batter into muffin tins. Getting your mind off Tim will be hard; he’s consumed every one of your thoughts for nearly a month, but you have a business to focus on and more customers than the handsome sergeant who was your favorite daily customer until today.

Several hours later, Mitch is on the phone when the chime over the door rings. You wave to him and walk out of the kitchen, then stop behind the register.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tim says.

You remain silent as you look at him. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt, there’s a scrape over his eyebrow that looks recent, and the knuckles on his left hand are darkening. Based on his appearance alone, you assume he was late for a good reason.

“What can I get you?” you ask, breathless, as you move to stand behind the register. “It’s on the house.”

Tim smiles, and you have to remind yourself to listen. He orders your favorite, then places his hands on the counter and leans closer to you. You nod, then blink and ask him to repeat himself.

“Your favorite,” he says.

“How do you…”

“You told me. I remembered.”

You lick your lips before whispering, “Why?”

“The same reason I know that you hate working at the register because you’re shy and it drains your energy. You’d rather be in the back with your recipes and music than up here with customers. The reason I know you own this place but don’t advertise it because you don’t want the attention. All of that, all of you, is why I keep coming back. And I’m really hoping that those things will be why you say yes when I ask if you’ll go out with me.”

You swallow but can’t form words yet. Your answer is yes, of course, it is. When you open your mouth, though, you ask, “Are you okay?”

Tim smiles again and says, “I worked all night and could really use some of your amazing coffee.”

“You missed breakfast?”

Tim extends his arms so his hands are closer to yours and corrects, “I missed you.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I really want to go out with you.”

Tim nods, then thanks Melanie when she sets a coffee cup on the counter beside him. He sees your number on the side and smiles, but you drop your head momentarily to avoid the embarrassment Melanie provides.

“I promise we’ll do something you’ll like,” Tim assures as his fingers brush yours.

I’ll find the courage to do anything with you, you want to say. Deciding that is more of a second date statement, you merely nod and ask Tim, “Do you actually want my favorite or is there something else you’d prefer?”

#tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #the rookie #the rookie x reader #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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momo-minomo · 2 months ago

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Fic Fairy Friday: Batfamily Shenanigans

This week's fic rec post is dedicated to the Batfamily just BEING a family. The snark, the annoying nagging, the overprotectiveness, etc. I feel like we don't get to see the Batfamily together and friendly nearly enough. Some of these would fit in the comics, some are more Wayne Family Adventures coded, and some are full on AU. Enjoy!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Code Bat by Listentothelittlebird

Summary:

Within Gotham, the Bats are a tight-knit group - family - that runs like clockwork. Outside of Gotham, none of their teammates know they’re related. This series explores the shenanigans that the Bats get up to, as well as how this distinction would affect canon.

Momo's Notes: This one is a series rather than a single fic and I love it so much. When Dick first decides he wants to break away from Batman's shadow Bruce agrees to keep their affiliation with each other secret, with one caveat. If either of them call a 'code bat' the other drops everything immediately and comes to help. As they add on to the family the secrets they're keeping from their non-Gotham friends and teammates piles up but it serves to keep the younger, less trained members of the family safe from the older heroes' enemies so they keep it going, each new family member agreeing to the Code Bat protocol when outside of Gotham, complete with entirely different hero names and costumes. It's interesting seeing a Justice League, Titans, Outsiders, Outlaws, and Young Justice that has no idea the Batfamily even a thing even as certain team members sometimes act super shifty when dealing with other teams or after getting a sudden, secret message.

I'm not a villain, I swear! by CoyoteFang1987

Summary:

Tim wakes up in a world in which Batman doesn't exist. And by consequence, the Robins never became heroes. Dick is a Talon, Jason is Red Hood (a villain), and Damian is a League of Assassins assassin. And Tim apparently is a hero called Draken, who, frankly, sucks at being a hero. And in this weird alternate reality, something big is brewing and Batman isn't here to keep the Justice League from tearing itself apart. Tim is really really done with everything. Dick, Jason, and Damian aren't helping. Tim really really hates magic as well.

Momo's Notes: Tim, Dick, Jason, and Damian all wake up in a world where Batman doesn't exist, Bruce Wayne might be the new Lex Luthor, and 3/4 of the Batfam appear to be villains working for various organizations. There's a lot of fun shenanigans going on in this one and all four brothers have good relationships with each other so we get to see them being effortlessly badass together. The Dick/Wally in this is also adorable.

You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514

Summary:

Bruce doesn’t know what’s wrong with his child, but he’s pretty sure kids aren’t meant to work like this. From the day he had looked up into the tops of the circus tent and saw a frightened mirror image of a boy who had just experienced the worst day of his life, Bruce had instantly gone into emergency mode. The Gotham PD had wanted to pass the boy off into the care of the circus. The circus had mumbled underneath their breaths about superstitions, about not having a boy like that with them, about not being able to handle something like Dick. So GCPD, not knowing what to do, had started talking about one of the handful of overburdened boy homes that handles a majority of Gotham’s unlucky orphans. All the while, the camera lights flash bright and loud, wanting to know everything. Bruce couldn’t let that happen. Not then, not ever again.

Momo's Notes: This is one of the most unique cryptid AUs I think I've ever read. Bruce's only human child in this is Damian and the variety of magical creature the older 3 batbros are is really neat. The way their abilities and nature interact with each other is also really sweet. For anyone who's a sucker for good dad Bruce, this one is sure to make you happy.

Keep Losing Sleep by incogneat_oh

Summary:

“When’d you last sleep?” Jay asks, curious. “Eleven years ago,” Tim says, at the same time as Dick says, “Tuesday.”

Momo's Notes: In a family as traumatized as this, it makes sense that more than one of them would have trouble sleeping. This is super short but a lovely little glance into the family just being there for each other when sleep won't come.

Brightly Colored Adhesive Papers by LuminaStarCrest

Summary:

Tim liked to show people that he loves them by leaving around sticky notes. Or, 5 times Tim left sticky notes for others to find, and 1 time he found sticky notes that he didn’t write

Momo's Notes: Another one that's short but sweet! My favorite part in this is probably the pure sass between Tim and Jason but Tim doing his emotional support Robin thing and making Bruce get some damn sleep is a close second lol

Cannonball by SunnyBlue

Summary:

Why is it always Tim that disappears? If it was any of the rest of them, it would be a lot less concerning. It’s not like Tim can’t hold his own in a fight — he’s a Bat, after all — but the kid has a tendency to form the craziest plans out of all of them, which often ends up putting him in the craziest situations. When Tim goes missing, it usually means he’s in some deep shit, and Tim in deep shit means Jason scrambling every time. Without fail. This fucking kid. Tim is missing and his brothers track him down and bring him home. Also everybody loves each other and isn't so incredibly emotionally constipated because I just want them to be happy and because I'm the author and I said so.

Momo's Notes: I kinda love Jason's pov in friendly Batfam fics. This one is Jason and Dick terrified and furious as they rush to Tim's rescue with bonus points for the quick bit of Tim and Damian bonding the author added.

Loading and Aspect Ratio by JUBE514

Summary:

So, it didn’t start out like this. Alfred would scoff at the statement, about how Bruce was trying to justify the whole situation to himself. It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat . So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare, and Alfred had a vicious streak of humor that he had passed onto his ward- So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham. It only took a year into the whole charade of heroism for Bruce to overhear a conversation between some goons- some low level thug hired by the Riddler this week- about nothing at all pertaining to what the hell the Riddler was doing in the sewers but instead: “ The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.” -- A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.

Momo's Notes: This is another fun AU with lots of Batfamily bonding and badassery. Bruce makes his cape wing shaped to further scare the hell out of Gotham criminals but it's little baby Dickie, freshly adopted and traumatized, who convinces him to make them actual capable of flight. The Batfam never claimed to be metas but the rest of the world, especially the Justice League, decided that's what they were anyway. It came in clutch tho. The main pairing in this is SuperBat and they are freaking adorable.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Summary:

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Momo's Notes: People forget that Bruce Wayne raised Dick Grayson to be how he is and the two of them share the same warped sense of humor that let them shout puns while beating up criminals and put "Bat" in front of freaking EVERYTHING with a straight face. This fic is just the Batfam fucking with the JLA for their own sick amusement. I love them.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

Summary:

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings-- “Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe. Dammit.

Momo's Notes: Finally a fic that gives Cass and Duke some love! This is a short one where Tim's siblings drive him up the wall out of love and concern for their workaholic weirdo brother. The snark and sass is flowing freely and the JLA's best detective/spies are being about as subtle as a brick to the head lol.

To Rescue a Bat by Blueseabird2

Summary:

Batman gets into a situation during an alien invasion and could use a rescue. Unfortunately, Dick and Jason don't think the Justice League is up for the task. At all. So Dick lets the League know that he will be handling the situation and to expect Batman back by the end of the night. He even promises that he won't be going alone. No one should stand in the way of a Batfamily rescue, even if the Justice League doesn't know there's a Batfamily at all.

Momo's Notes: I love the closeness Dick and Jason share in this one. Jason and Dick are two older brothers who both struggle with the towering rage simmering just below the surface at all times and in this fic they've come to lean on each other for support. When most of the JLA's leadership is captured and the ransom video shows Bruce to be on borrowed time Dick decides it's time to let that anger loose a little and Jason is ready to back him up (with attitude of course, but still). With their fellow Batfamily members (both official and honorary) right beside them they decide it's the perfect time to reveal their affiliation with Batman to save their dad. Bruce is SO fucking proud.

Monolith by CharlesWaterloo

Summary:

Diana realised with a jolt that none of them had actually asked him how he knew Batman. And she was just as curious as the rest of them about the “we”. It implied Batman worked with more people. ‘How did you come to know Batman? Does he have any other friends?’ His mouth fell open, and he snorted, which evolved into full-out laughter. ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god - friends?’ Diana felt a little hurt on Batman’s behalf. ‘Are you not his friend?' He shook his head. ‘Did B really not say anything? I’m hurt. No, I’m not his friend. I’m his son.’ (An AU where the Justice League haven't met any of Bruce's kids.)

Momo's Notes: The Justice League isn't aware of Batman's identity or that he's a father. When Dick needs to sub in for Bruce at a JL meeting, though, and he realizes this? Cue the sibling shenanigans! Bonus points for Duke, Cass, and Steph getting some attention and praise in this one!

Batman/men? by Bumpkin

Summary:

Batman wasn’t a founding member of the Justice League, and isn’t known for playing well with other heroes. But he does end up joining, and he does try to get along while still keeping his secrets close. It’s a delicate balancing act. Then comes a mission that requires Batman to be the lynchpin for their success. Except there’s a problem with the execution of the plan, Batman would have to be in several places at once. He’s confident he can do it. The Justice League, for lack of any alternatives, can only go along and in the process learn more about their reclusive teammate.

Momo's Notes: Another fic that's short but fun where the Justice League isn't aware of the Batfam's existence and it's entirely in non-Batfam povs over the course of an important mission where Batman seemingly needs to be in several places at once and… succeeds? Easily?

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lilacs-stars · 9 months ago

Text

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt.

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it.

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side.

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more.

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him.

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers.

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions.

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate.

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron.

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either.

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh.

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you.

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions.

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath.

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out.

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve.

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face.

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor.

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides.

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him.

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze.

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back.

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face.

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm.

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising.

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there.

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems.

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours.

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan.

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else.

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you.

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it.

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice.

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself.

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm.

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right.

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him.

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run.

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James.

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek.

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response.

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall.

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal.

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm.

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight.

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on.

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide.

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him.

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “Let’s just say, a little birdie told me of how he harassed you in class earlier today. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap.

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @maggiecc

just leave a comment if you want to join the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

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rereisstuff · 1 month ago

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LOVE HANGOVER !

summary: falling in love with Kim Mingyu wasn’t the best idea.

pairing: idol! Mingyu x idol! reader

note: i mean the reader kinda dumb, kim mingyu a player cause im mad at jim how can he be so cute and so not mine😡☝🏾

your solo was killing it everywhere, idols were asking to film the dance challenges with you, it was a win after win, everything was great.

you were laughing with your crew as you got ready for a performance, suddenly a knock was heard and some staff entered with a huge bouquet of red roses.

ruby roses congratulating ruby <3

you deserve the world, pretty girl - km

the room was filled with squeaks and giggles as you read the note.

you met Mingyu when both were 18, both just debuting and young.

friendships started to grow along your career and suddenly one day one of your friends added you to a getaway, with other of her friends.

the day everything went wrong.

you got together with Kim Mingyu, and although he wasn’t the superstar he is now he was extremely charming.

the problem was that, he was charming whenever he was in the mood.

after intimate moments during that little vacation, you added him in kakao and followed his secret instagram account, then decided to message him but he replied:

we aren’t allowed to date, sorry pretty girl.

the humiliation was horrible and you decided to never contact him again…that until your friend’s birthday.

were things got crazy again.

then, a Calvin Klein after party, in which the real after party was at his newly acquired place.

you found yourself falling again and again.

you knew he was in one of the dressing rooms as a part of you couldn’t contain the emotion of sharing a performance show with his group.

“i talked with seventeen’s manager, you can ask one pr two members to do the challenge with you” your manager entered the room.

the other thing is that nobody knows what goes on between you and Mingyu, only your close friends the ones that introduced you.

you swallowed thickly and walked over the door with their name, knocked and exhaled a shaky breath.

soon you meet Mingyu opening the door, smile dropping a bit in disbelief when he saw you.

“hi Min, can i come in?” you almost whispered, he nodded.

“you look beautiful” he replied quietly as well, stepping aside to let you in.

you greeted and walked straight to Dino and Hoshi, both known for their dancing skills, they agreed.

you filmed and laughed for a bit, forgetting the guy across the room looking directly at you.

“if you don’t decide, someone else will” the stylist said as she saw the look in his face.

“it’s complicated and i don’t want to talk about it” he almost sulked as you were walking out.

Dino was fun, a little young, but fun, he just told you to come to his favorite bar to drink god knows what beverage which you agreed to.

you had a friendly date with Mingyu’s bandmate next sunday.

you almost yelled in excitement and relief, something new was happening, no more Kim Mingyu.

or that’s what you thought till you felt someone tugging your wrist.

a well known front crashed into yours, lifting your head to see and confirm it was him.

“you liked the flowers?” he smiled, soon your legs turned into jello, you was still weak.

you couldn’t talked so you nodded, with a shy smile.

“how about we have dinner, next sunday?”

“i think that’s perfect” you smiled lovingly, he corresponded with one as well.

he bended down and kissed lightly the outline of your lips, making you shiver.

“see you around pretty girl” he came back to his room, leaving you there again, daydreaming.

tomorrow the love hangover will be strong.

#idol au #kpop idol #svt masterlist #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader

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moonlit-imagines · 1 year ago

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Headcanons for dating Wally West

Wally West x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was debating whether or not y/n is on the team or not n for this im going for y/n being a regular civilian but now im debating making dating hcs for a hero too 🤭

prompt: anonymous: “But if you're still taking requests (and speaking of fast haha), I would absolutely love if you could do a lil' something about Wally West ♡. I love that track star to bits and we're entering my favorite season ever : spooky season (or autumn for people who aren't chronically online like me). So if you'd be tempted to write some fluff/domestic stuff in autumn with Wally, I would be over the moon! 🦊”

wally is so annoying (in the best way!!)

you aren’t too used to the whole idea of dating a metahuman, every day is like an adventure

and for a speedster? you’d be surprised how hard it is for him to find the time

but he makes time

*doorbell rings*

“you’re twenty minutes late” -you

“in flash-time that’s early” -wally, holding a half-eaten box of chocolates “i got a little hungry”

on his “days off,” you could usually find the two of you on the couch with a variety of snacks scattered across the coffee table and crumbs peppering the cushions and floor

“the dog will get them” -wally

“hate to break it to you, but i don’t have a dog” -you

“should i get you a dog?” -wally

he was always so goofy

and affectionate, very affectionate!

he loved to give you cheek and forehead kisses, so many so fast

“how many was that?” -you after noticing repeated pressure on your cheeks

“going on a hundred. i’m trying to beat my record!” -wally

it always ended up tickling and you’d laugh until you fell over

“wally!! wally, come on!!” -you

you’d always get bummed whenever he got called for a mission

especially because it always happened in the middle of something (dinner, a movie, study date, etc.)

then when he came home he’d be a wreck and then you’d be a wreck because you’d see him like that

then he’d have to calm you down and you’d have to help him feel better

“you dont have to do that, im fine! i swear!” -wally while you panic and try to take care of him

being invited to the cave!

meeting the team!

“just because youre meeting a half-kryptonian clone, a martian, an atlantean, some girl with a bow and arrow, and batman’s sidekick doesn’t mean you get to think any of them are cooler than me, kapeesh?” -wally

“oh yes, i know you’re the coolest” -you

the team loves you!!!

“wow, wally, thanks for proving your s/o isn’t imaginary” -artemis

“youre welcome” -wally

“do you want to come bake with me?!” -m’gaan

“please say yes, y/n. i’m so hungry. so so hungry” -wally

“let’s do it!” -you

starting to camp out at the cave while wally is on missions

also once some more dangerous people figured out wally’s identity, you got your own access code to the cave. EMERGENCIES ONLY

you used it to surprise wally once and got a stern talking to from batman. never again

you dont really spend too much time with the team, but you get invited to most of their friendly outings!

and you talk up a storm with the others trying to learn about their lives, which sometimes makes wally a liiiittle jealous

but you want to live vicariously through these interesting people bc ur life is a liiiittle boring

“can you tell me what atlantis is like? what it feels like to be underwater and how your fighting style differs on land?” “what’s your favorite dish to make on mars? do you like communicating this way or the telepathic way more?” “why do you always wear sunglasses, man?” (you know this one dick is like wally’s bestie) -all you

seeing wally less than usual when things start to heat up in his hero life :(

causes some strain and you get so so sad :(

but he always calls you when he can and tries to make up for it

and somewhere down the road when he retires you’re able to spend all your time with him and he makes up for lost time like he promised

ok i’ll stop there. happily ever after.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 //

#wally west imagine #wally west #wally west x reader #kid flash x reader #kid flash #kid flash imagine #young justice x reader #young justice #young justice imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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maybefae · 6 months ago

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Blessings Coming In!

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: The Empress, Ten of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Knight of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles, Four of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Hanged Man and Three of Wands

Oracle: Seeds (New Ideas, hope, open-mindedness), Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

You’re getting your mojo back! You could be getting over some heartbreak, probably losing a couple of friends or a relationship. Or you had finally cut off people that weren’t healthy for you. I see this heartbreak happening before this reading and you come to this reading in the process of figuring things out. That’s not to say that you don’t go through moments of grief though. I see you working your abundance, things that fill up your cup. This takes many forms. But I do see you also taking small steps in getting a business or project started and out into the public and I do see this growing faster than you expected! The love and work you put into it will pay off and your doubts will be soothed over from the response you get.

For the people who are trying to get back out there to find friendships/a partner, I see you taking a very lighthearted approach. You aren’t putting your full heart into them just yet but you are being open, friendly, and slow-burning the progression. You’re feeling very sure of yourself, trusting yourself, and finding the courage (even if it’s a little nerve-wracking) to open up your heart again to new connections. These people could be completely different from who you’re used to connecting with, types of people that you could’ve always wanted to connect with.

For those dating around, I see two different people. One is very grounded, maybe even slow-moving, and you are probably not sure if they even have feelings for you or if they are emotionally available. But I think they have high standards and are as cautious (albeit open-minded) as you are. The other likes what they see, and they are probably very cheeky and knows how to talk to you. Very cunning. May have really intense eyes, “bedroom eyes.” I don’t see these two getting far with you since you’re being selective but I think you will have fun talking to them. You are keeping your options open. And since you’re the Empress, you could be looking for someone to fit the Emperor role (any gender).

Pile 2

Tarot: Nine of Cups, King of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Page of Wands, The Devil, Three of Pentacles, Four of Swords (Reversed), The Tower, The Star, Queen of Swords, Six of Wands

Oracle: Bee (Community, cooperation, sweetness), Autumn (Bounty, balance), Snow (Rest, contemplation)

Before I even pull cards, The Artist card that solely belongs to this deck was shown to me and I head “As an artist myself, I know they can be a little flighty. Head in the clouds.” But I also thought of David Bowie? Some of you could be really successful when it comes to selling your art. And I’m talking gallery level prices in the thousands of dollars. But I suppose this can be applied to any career field. “Six months time.”

Now that I’ve pulled your cards, I can confirm the previous message of money and/or success when it comes to your career coming in. I think this is coming after some burnout, which could be a bad habit of yours that reoccurs. This burnout probably left you uninspired and you could get inspiration back. Easier said than done, but please rest. You can’t do the things you love without rest. There could’ve been a big setback before that left you hopeless and burnt out. But you could be having a moment where it reignites the spark for you and that could feel like the biggest blessing since nothing seems as dull anymore.

I feel like your blessing has everything to do with abundance. Happiness, a resurgence of hope (maybe you get validation that you’re on the right track), and money from something you created from all your love and hard work.

So, for those wanting a connection (platonic or romantic), I do see that someone could be coming in very out of the blue. I had to pull an extra card and it came out while I was looking away while shuffling. You won’t see this person coming. This could be platonic (friend or work partner) or romantic.

Pile 3

Tarot: Queen of Cups, Nine of Cups, The Sun, The World, King of Cups, The Hermit, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Wands, Five of Cups, The Moon

Oracle: Rain (cleansing, purification, hydration), Sickle (focus, regrowth, letting go), Mushroom (recycling, breaking down problems)

I haven’t pulled cards yet but I am using a deck I haven’t used in a while. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got a whiff of glue.

And now that I pulled the cards, the glue is about uniting. This pile is for the people in long-distance friendships/relationships. After so many tries to finally see them, something always went wrong and you had to cancel plans. This could also be an issue about not having enough money at the time.

The stars had to align, the moon had to be at a certain lunation…You finally get the chance to see your loved one that’s at a distance! Your wish for that is coming true. In a way, you had to kinda “give up” on the plans and now you are being gifted the opportunities since you weren’t focusing on it heavy. It’s like you had to take care of other things before you could make it happen.

I’m being advised to tell you not to control it too much! Don’t have a tight grip on plans. Continue to go with the flow and enjoy the present with this person. You will have an amazing time together!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Modern Witch Tarot Deck by Lisa Sterle, The Green Witch Oracle by Arin Murphy-Hiscock and Sara Richard

Dividers: @inklore

#pick a card #tarot #maybefae tarot #pac #pick a pile #tarot reading

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hukelughes · 3 months ago

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can we pls have some umich frat boy vibes luke pls anything

DRUNK IN LOVE! — LUKE HUGHES

SUMMARY: In which frat!Luke Hughes and his girlfriend play a constant game of cat and mouse at his parties.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, 18+ only, underage drinking (implied), suggestive themes, jealousy, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 0.5k words (short, i know).

AUTHORS NOTE: my first piece of writing is officially posted! thank you for requesting nonnie <3 i know its short but i hope i fulfilled ur request!!

You dance around to the beat of a song you can’t quite remember, the warm fuzzy feeling in your mind caused by the alcohol you consumed preventing you from thinking straight.

Your white faux leather skirt is riding up your thighs, no doubt flashing your white lace thong to anyone who’s looking. Normally, you would’ve immediately pulled it back down, but you wanted his attention.

You feel a pair of hands grabbing your waist, his hot breath hitting your ear. You know exactly who it is by the smell of his cologne, which is why you aren’t brushing him off.

“Princess,” he whispers teasingly, “I thought I told you not to wear this tonight.”

You scoff, throwing your head back onto Luke’s shoulder while tilting your head in his direction. “When have I ever listened to you?”

Luke just chuckles, pulling your skirt down for you. “I wish you did, but I know you like being a brat. Everyone’s looking at you, you know? What if they saw what you wore for me?”

You hazily look around to see if his words are true, and you can faintly see that people, mostly men, are looking right in your direction. Frowning, you turn around in Luke’s arms, wanting to show them that you aren’t even going to entertain the idea of going home with them.

While you enjoyed the feeling of people looking at you, it never quite beat the feeling of Luke looking at you. The game the two of you played at his frat parties to see which one of you would inevitably get jealous normally only lasted about two hours before Luke came over and called a truce.

You’ve been dating ever since you both arrived at the University of Michigan, immediately connecting with each other. All of your freshmen classes were the same, which ultimately led to him coming up to you and introducing himself. You were cautious at first, he looked like the typical frat boy. Athletic, cocky, and he most likely had a bunch of other girls waiting to pounce on him if they ever got the chance. He didn’t let your guarded demeanor sway him, and soon enough you found yourself wanting to be around him all the time. It was hard for him to stay away from you, and he slowly started to insert himself into your life.

You didn’t mind though, because you felt the exact same way.

“It’s only for you, you know that.” You mutter, while looking up at him with glossy eyes. He looks right back at you with an eyebrow raised, silently saying “really?”.

To prove your point, you put both of your hands on each side of his face, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s definitely not family friendly, as you guys chase each other’s lips even though they’re already touching. The guys that were looking at you before definitely aren’t now.

You break apart from each other, reluctantly, but you both need to breathe. “That good enough?” You ask, moving your hands to grab onto his waist, clutching onto the tight black shirt he’s wearing.

“More than enough,” Luke immediately replies, pressing his forehead to yours, never quite getting enough of you. “Wanna go to my room?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer, already grabbing his hand and turning around to leave.

This was just your kind of love, making each other wild and crazy for each other.

#luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #lh43 #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #hockey imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd

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cloveroctobers · 9 months ago

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HOW THEY DEAL WITH DISRESPECTFUL NEIGHBORS — MULTI [Summer Preferences]

A/N: thanks for voting on my poll, which I already knew who was going to win that but I still wanted to do a preference anyway since I never got around to writing what I originally wanted for my other characters on my summer prompt list rip to that idea! I’m writing in the order of which was voted from most to least highest minus one character.

WARNINGS: language, violence is sometimes the answer 🤭 + FC changed for Mikey due to recent news unfortunately, *GIF DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, not here to argue with anyone that feels different and you’re always welcome to keep imagining JB or simply do not engage with this.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

~ARMANDO~

He doesn’t take disrespect lightly.

The both of you lived just fine in your condo out in Miami, although Armando preferred the privacy more than anything he just kept this to the back of his mind that he was going to provide for your dream house together. Having your four year old daughter, Isaura only gave him more drive to get out of here.

The neighbors that lived on the floor directly above you, were all wide smiles and friendly making it their special job to try and introduce themselves to whoever they caught. They found you three at the pool one Sunday evening before dinner. Armando immediately felt they were weird telling you later that night in bed beside you, “they look like they eat people.”

“Armando!” You scolded as you slipped a bonnet on a half sleep Isaura, “they do but maybe they’re just the over friendly type.”

Armando sucked his teeth as he reached around you to snatch the sleepy toddler into his chest, “niña, can you say oblivious? tell mama that’s exactly what she is.”

Isaura just shifted her head looking away from the both of you.

“See, even your own daughter doesn’t want to listen to your mess. Give me my baby back so I can put her down,” you waved your fingers while Armando swings his legs to the edge of the bed.

He shifts the tiny girl against him and shakes his head, “nah, I got it. Got to make sure the fucken weirdos aren’t hiding in her room since you don’t want to believe me.”

“Hey, watch your mouth!” You lecture while Armando rolls his eyes, peeking down to see if Isaura even budged at his foul language before you continued, “I don’t know what goes in your mind sometimes,” you sigh with a shake of your head as Armando makes his way to the door, “…now you know I’m going to be up half the night checking on her.”

“Don’t worry about it, daddy’s gonna take the daybed just in case.”

Frowning you respond, “So you’re just going to abandon me?”

Armando snorts, “there’s enough of me to go around but if you wanna stay hold up in here by yourself, when we have the hills have eyes lurking from the floor above, that’s on you.”

“Bastard.” You muttered just as Armando was about to shut the door.

“What was that, mami?”

“I said I’m getting my neck pillow.” You answered as Armando laughs to himself, leaving the door open just a crack before carrying on down the hallway.

Armando would peep the disrespect more than you would but mostly on separate occasions. First it started with the husband constantly taking Armando’s assigned parking spot with one of his many cars, he would always turn up right when Armando had to circle around to take someone else’s, and when he was face to face with the husband’s false apologies and story about how he had to keep his monster truck locked away in storage thirty minutes away from the building, yet he always decided to take it out when Armando worked late nights…which was pretty convenient if you asked Armando.

Then you would tell Armando how the wife would make…interesting comments about how many more kids you two planned to have. “Hopefully a soccer team with your good looks!” She would laugh as she gripped your wrist. She would also ask: How you two managed to have free time with a four year old and if she was receiving enough attention between the two of you? That last question was off putting because why was this woman worrying about your child? Then if you listened closely enough, around the time it was time for Isaura’s nap or bedtime, whether Mike, Marcus and his family, or your best friend or family were watching her while the both of you were at work, the couple would decide to either start salsa lessons (according to the wife, Amy) which ended up turning into salsa lessons with no clothes directly on the floor, the husband winked at Armando who was not the least bit impressed.

“I think it’s common courtesy that you two learn to keep it down for not only us who have a child…who also has a routine but for your other neighbors as well. I’m sure there’s plenty of classes out in town you two can get into outside of this building.” You hinted to them.

“Oh sorry! I told Kit we were being too loud, see honey?!” She weakly slaps the wannabe WWE star against his buff chest, “We’ll definitely keep everyone more in mind this time, again sorry about that.” Amy apologizes.

“A man has needs though, am I right?” Kit would laugh, clapping his hand down on Armando’s shoulder who peeked at it, wondering why this man was so comfortable touching him.

Armando sniffed, “and you need to have some respect is all that we’re saying. Along with removing your hand from me.”

“Hey now! No need for the animosity, we’re all friends here neighbor!” Kit says as he applies a little more pressure on his hold of Armando’s shoulder but that only causes Armando to darken his stare.

Even Armando knew that statement was fake. Next thing he knows, when he’s heading out to work the morning after, he’s got a broken side mirror on the driver’s side and a large scratch on the passenger door with Kit’s car—that’s usually parked to the right of Armando’s—already gone for the day. Armando doesn’t take long to assess the situation, jaw tight as he looks around the garage for where exactly the cameras are. He would be hacking those as soon as he clocked in and didn’t give a damn who had something to say about it. He ended up calling you on the way to work, thanks to him phoning Dorn to carpool—him and Kelly had a disagreement so she drove to work on her own—to tell you exactly what happened since it was one of those days where you clocked in earlier than he did.

“I’ll try and keep him from doing something stupid.” Dorn calls out to you from the driver’s side.

You whisper as you stepped out briefly from working with a client as an aesthetician, “would you? I know it’ll be hard—

“I’m right here.” Armando reminded, “I’m done dealing with their creepy asses, Kit better hope I don’t see him when I get home tonight because his ass might turn up missing.”

You didn’t even argue because once Armando had something made up in his mind, it was hard for him to ever see another perspective. Also you didn’t doubt that Kit had something to do with it.

The last straw was when Kit and Amy’s German shepherd nipped towards Isaura’s face, when you had a minor confrontation with Amy, who you ran into while out shopping. She tried to sweep over the fact that she admitted to wishing that it was Armando on top of her instead of her actual husband and that it wasn’t a big deal because Kit was doing the same with you. Not only did she fix her mouth to say that, she also said she thought about what a kid would look like with her looks and Armando’s. “There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming.”

She said and it felt like she had spit in your face at how wicked her smile was on her overfilled lips. Again she was too close in your space but once Isaura ripped a cry so loud below along with the sounds of snarling from Amy’s dog, you didn’t hesitate to pull your child up into your arms and to kick at the dog.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Amy yelled pulling on her pet’s leash, “He’s just an animal!”

“An animal who tried to bite my kid’s face off! You’re lucky my foot didn’t connect but next time my fist won’t miss yours.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“It’s not a threat, It’s a promise.” You concluded, “Stay away from my family if you know what’s good for you.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” Amy kept a tight hold on the leash now, “These are the things Kit and I get for being good neighbors?!”

You stopped in your tracks as you turned to give Amy one last look while you cradled a scared Isaura to your chest, “it means exactly what you think it means. Y’all keep saying your good neighbors but is that in the building with us or in your sick delusions? I’m warning you Amy, back the fuck off or you’ll really be sorry.”

Amy sticks her nose up in the air, “my uncle is the best lawyer in the city. If you’re thinking about harming my family then I’ll sue both of you so hard that little Laura will have no choice but to have a new family. Kit and I have been trying for months for a little one and Laura is the cutest thing.”

Laughing you found it hilarious that Amy thought she could continue to try you with her mind games. She really didn’t know who she was fucking with.

“I can guarantee that your uncle doesn’t have shit on my man. Also my father-in-law is a pretty good detective and he’s already heard about you two, just waiting for the word. The difference between you and I, is that I love only one man. And sweetie, it’s no competition when I’ve already won. Now you enjoy the rest of your day…before it expires.” It was your turn to send her a sickeningly charming smile as you spun back on your heels.

Leaving her like a gapping fish, you make your way back to your car, strapping Issy in with another caress to her face, quadruple checking that the dog didn’t do anything to her face and handing Issy one of her toys to cuddle with on the way back home. As you started your engine, you immediately called Armando through the car’s Bluetooth before pulling off from the curb.

It’s game night when there’s a knock on the door. Since Armando is helping Issy with the game piece on the game board, you push off the couch to get the door.

“Oh hi!” You greet, which makes Armando also move to get to his feet.

“We’re your new neighbors on the floor above who just moved in and we wanted to say thanks for the blueberry crumble and bottle of wine you sent our way, you really didn’t have to do that! We just thought it would be the kind thing to find the time to come down and introduce ourselves.” The woman speaks first with her hand held out.

You grasp her hand with a warm smile as you say, “mostly everyone is to themselves here but we got…pretty close with our old neighbors and my boyfriend, Armando and I thought we’d keep the tradition going.”

Armando gives a short wave at the two new faces as he stands beside you now, “hello,” he addresses the two while he bounces a giggly Issy on his hip.

“Aw, she’s so precious! Isn’t she, Steven?” The girl at the door elbows the guy beside her.

You take in her expression carefully, “do you two have any kids?”

She jabbed a thumb at the taller man, “Oh I’ll leave that all to my brother here.”

“I don’t have any…at least no one’s ever told me anything.” He nonchalantly shrugged while he looked off in thought up from his phone, while his sister rolls her eyes at him.

Armando snickers, which makes you quirk up a brow at him.

“Do you guys know where the other tenants moved off to? The agent says it was pretty abrupt but we got a steal on most of their furniture.” The young girl chats.

Armando speaks up, “heard they really wanted to explore more of Europe…guess Miami living inspired them to see what else the world has to offer.”

“Sweet,” Steven nods, “that would be a dream.”

“That is what they say life is,” Armando adds as he sends a quick wink to you while you lightly shake your head at him. He then slips an arm around your waist appearing as a Kodak moment to the siblings outside the door, “but welcome to the neighborhood you two, I’ve got a feelin’ you’ll be good neighbors.”

In short: he eliminates the problem.

~RIO~

He had been away on a business trip when he gets back home earlier than expected. He likes to do this sometimes, liking to surprise you with his pop-in’s—take that how you will. What he wasn’t expecting was his ex sitting in the sitting room with you, the two of you chatting to the right of the home from the foyer over a bottle of tequila.

“…so the hell are you gonna tell lollipop king?”

“Girl, who?”

“You know his name, Christopher!”

You laugh followed by a groan, “he’ll find out sooner than later since old man Stewart and him are practically golfing buddies who act like they don’t gossip.”

Rio used that moment to clear his throat from his leaned position against the doorway. He didn’t like how your guard was down as he just lingered there, you slouched on the couch and Rhea balled up in one of the living chairs but that was another conversation. He needed to know just what you were hiding from him and now.

“Tell me what, mama?” Rio rasped, hands clasped in front of him.

Rhea’s mouth formed into an O-shape, getting ready to collect her things but Rio cuts his eyes at the short haired woman too, “nah, you don’t gotta leave on my account.”

“Believe me I’m not,” Rhea sassed as she collected her square glass and the almost empty bottle, “I’m going to check on our son while you guys—debrief.”

You gasped, “this involves you too, you know?!”

“I don’t live here!”

“Could have fooled me.” Rio adds as Rhea makes her way by him, bumping her shoulder with his.

Rio just snorts as the woman heads across the hall towards the side entrance of the kitchen. When he sets his eyes back on you, he watched as you used one of your hands to pinch in between your brows as you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. The buzzed haired man then plops down beside you, lolling his head to meet your gaze but you just quickly down the rest of your drink.

“What’s going on?” Rio questions.

You exhale, “oh nothing much, it’s good to see you though!”

“You’re tipsy on a Wednesday afternoon and not on wine…something’s up?” Rio analyzed you pretty quick, which was to be expected.

Exhaling you close your eyes, thinking if maybe you just dozed off then Rio would leave you alone and Rhea would sneak out with Marcus out the back. You knew that was a slim chance since that boy loved his father a lot and would want to see him before heading back home with his mom.

Your eyes were widened as Rio gripped your bandaged hand, making you wince as he did so. You were hoping that he wouldn’t notice but you couldn’t be that much of a fool, not when it came to your husband.

“I’m going to ask only one more time before I start looking for answers myself, so tell me what happened?” Rio quizzes one last time.

Sighing you meet Rio’s eyes as you tell him, “Polly’s mother is visiting and she started shit with Marcus while he was outside playing in the front yard. I was bringing the plants from the garage up front when this all happened but Stewart saw it happening from his window and came out before I got up front. I handled it, she got HOA involved, and now apparently there’s a meeting on Saturday morning.”

The shift in Rio was instant as he sat up, still holding your hand in his lap, “she don’t even live here and she thinks she can say something to the kid? Did she do this to your hand? Give me the details, mama.”

And so you did. You told him how Marcus was running around out front keeping himself entertained while you were dragging the outdoor plants that you thought would look nice in the backyard up front from the garage. It took some time for you to pick up on the yelling, making the palm of your hand get impaled by one of agave leaves that you tossed to the ground at the familiar rebuttal of Marcus’ voice. Your instincts kicked in even if your hand bled like crazy and hurt like hell, you didn’t take kindly to strangers screaming at kids.

You were once an elementary school teacher before becoming a housewife to Rio. There was always a certain way that you needed to speak to people, especially kids and you weren’t having it with Polly’s mother who always visited in the summer. Polly was cool, even her mother-in-law was tolerable (although she was a yapper) but you just didn’t understand how someone like Polly had a mother as nasty as this Karen who was drilling into Marcus who she didn’t even know. In her mind she believed that Marcus specifically shouldn’t be playing around the sidewalk, that it was against the “rules” of this community that she wasn’t sure Marcus even belonged to and should be playing in a different area instead.

You guys had a fence but Marcus said that he hit the ball too far and it ended up on the sidewalk so that’s the only reason he came around the fence. You didn’t care what the reason was, he knew not to play near the street of the gated community but you trusted his word regardless and old man Stewart confirmed this with a nod of his head. He had the both of your back’s and you guys spent the holidays every so often at each other’s houses.

“It got ugly, babe. Told her to keep her finger out my face and to not ever speak to my kid like that again. She tried to chest bump my back so I turned around and shoved her on her ass. She’s lucky I didn’t smack the shit out her wal-mart Glenn Close looking ass. Which was enough ammo for her to call HOA but we’ve got cameras just as much as Polly’s got her ring camera so I’m not worried. I just didn’t want Marcus to deal with that bullshit.”

Rio ends up smiling at you and you widen your eyes at him. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Oh it’s not—I’m just proud of you.”

“For not going to jail?”

Rio tilts his head to the side, “The verdicts probably still out on that one, knowing the kind of woman she is.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have to talk to Polly.” Rio decided as he caressed your fingertips.

“She’s already sent mountains of texts, she’s with us and says she’ll work on talking to her demon—I mean mother.” You can’t fight against the liquor but even still, you said what you said.

Rio nods, “you don’t even got to worry about the rest. I got us.”

“…do I want to know?”

“Nah,” Rio shrugged as he used his other hand to caress your face, “just continue being the best thing that happened to me. I know I don’t have to thank you but I want to, for looking at Marcus as your own.”

You laugh, “he’s a great kid, part of you, which makes me love you guys even more so of course I will—without question.”

Rio pulls you by the chin to his lips, which you’ve been missing all week and when he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, he pulls back with a grin. “Later mama, I got to make sure you two are good first.”

“Huh?” Your eyes fluttered open as Rio holds your own hand up in front of your face to prove his point, “that’s just a scratch.”

“Our girl will be the judge of that.” Rio tells, “Can’t believe you didn’t try and sneak her over here.”

“Thought she was on business with you guys.”

“We got more than one medic, mama. I kept the best here with y’all.”

“How kind.”

“I’m a kind guy.”

“I don’t think the dust bag will think so when you’re finished spooking her.”

Rio doesn’t fight his grin but replies, “Who says I’m gonna do it? I got people for that but the message will be real clear.”

“Rio—

He shushes you as he pecks your lips once more, making you lean your forehead against his, happy that he’s home before he’s sending out a code to your number one medic girl to stop by the house ASAP.

the both of you break away as the thudding of steps decended down the steps, revealing Marcus who called out Rio’s name, who he needed further reassurance from.

“Hey bud,” Rio starts as he embraces the young boy before knocking their fist together, “you good?”

He slowly nods but Rio knows he’s not, although he had a feeling Marcus held his own. It usually took a lot to bring it out of him to defend himself but Rio would see for himself once he looked at the footage tonight.

“You know what? Let’s go play outside while the ladies finish up.” Rio gets to his feet and the slight panic in Marcus’ face is evident, making your heart break while Rhea tightens the folding of her arms.

Rio squeezed Marcus’ shoulder, “hey, when you’re with me you remember you’re the king of your own castle, aight? Nobody can tell you nothing, move how you wanna move and own it. This is your neighborhood too, you understand?”

“…yes dad.”

“Alright? I got goalie.”

Rio sends a firm look to you two ladies before he heads outside with Marcus right beside him.

He attentively analyzed the situation before deciding what else needs to be done. One thing you could never do was go against the family he built and that was always serious to him. Anybody that messed with his family, immediately became his target and if it had to be a part time neighbor from across the street?

So be it.

They’ll learn soon enough.

They always do.

~LUCA~

“Babe! You’re not gonna believe this.” Luca calls out to you as he slams the front entrance door from down below shut, before making his way upstairs.

You can always tell when Luca’s home because he has a tendency to be heavy handed, always slamming the door that it tends to shake the house. It’s not something he purposely does, majority of the time he doesn’t even notice but it is a thing and even your neighbors in the townhouse to the left of you mockingly mentioned it.

They were assholes anyway and should be the last ones to talk about noise. Having loud company over every other day and some type of event at their home every other weekend, also crowding up the streets, without inviting you guys on multiple occasions. There were eight specific units on this street that were all grouped and managed underneath the same property and you would think they would also include you two. The both of you quickly learned that Chicago was much different than Copenhagen.

And what Luca remembered.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart and give it some time, yeah? Otherwise? They can piss right off!” Luca’s older sister that he’s reconnected with while being back in the states tells you two, laughing lightly as she’s helping you two unpack weeks ago.

You wouldn’t have if you didn’t decide to be neighborly, bringing them their mail when it accidentally got mixed in with yours, waving at them in passing as you chatted with the other residents, and then actually going over to introduce yourselves with a platter. It was all fraudulent and they just didn’t want to be bothered with you two, Luca gradually started to forget about it after finding a new position at one of the top three upscale restaurants in the city until you would bring it up. And of course he listened to anything that bothered you.

Their music was too loud for hours at a time sometimes until two in the morning on a week night, Luca would calmly address the situation to the guy of the household when he would get a hold of him on his way in from running around the city in sweats and a hoodie—yes in the middle of a scorching August, the both of you always had early mornings with you being a medical assistant down at the hospital and with Luca always having to do prep. You didn’t have the patience to stick around for the guy and his significant other never came to the door when you both knew she was home probably hungover.

Luca was friendly in his approach about it and at first, the athlete told Luca that they were just celebrating as much as they could before he was back on the road to get in the box yet he couldn’t help but to throw in a jab, “They do have these things called single family homes. Maybe you two should consider that.” In the end he said they’d try to keep it down. That still rubbed you the wrong way when Luca slipped up and told you that part.

Which only meant turning the music up even louder that the house rattled on their end. If their garbage was over filled, they would dump some of it into yours attracting raccoons but would then claim it had to be one of the other neighbors—you two had a ring cam, it wasn’t. The last straw was the fiancée drunkly pissing right in the path of your garage, which you stepped in the next morning when you were running late to work.

Humming you turn your attention from the street view of the balcony to Luca who stood in the doorway. You sat comfortably in the outdoor chair, paperback turned over on the table as you finished sipping at your fruit water.

“Hey baby,” you greet with a smile, relaxed and bare faced on your day off in the summer light as you held your face up for Luca to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he sat in the chair across from you.

Luca stretched his arms across the table as he greeted you back, “hello darling…you’re not gonna believe this!” He continues.

“What? That you suddenly caved and like Chicago dogs now?” You quizzed, folding your own arms as you leaned against the table, ready to listen.

Luca chuckles, “not likely, babe. Guess I won’t ever fit into their standards, yeah?”

“I think the world will still turn.”

“I think so too,” Luca agrees with a small smirk, “listen to this. I went to the bakery, the one Marcus is working part-time at now because of the whole thing with Carmy’s uncle—just to check on him you know? Guess who was also in there?”

You raise your brows after finding it sweet that Luca made it his mission to check in on Marcus. The two hit it off when Marcus trained underneath him for a couple of weeks back then and he’s been over to the flat a few times along with Sydney. Luca didn’t give you much time to guess since he was so adamant about telling you about his day. Usually when something was on Luca’s mind, his words went haywire out of excitement—depending what it was of course.

“Ryan!”

You blinked at the news of your boyfriend running into your problematic next door neighbor in slight confusion, “okay…a little surprised he likes baked goods since he gives the impression that he drinks egg yolks and eats raw meat for fun.”

It was Luca’s turn to furrow his naturally arched brows, “I’m not quite sure how you’ve gotten that idea and you might want to cut back on your time watching Santa Clarita Diet. It might help.”

You snort as you wave your fingers along for the now buzzed blond to continue. It wouldn’t be the first show that you watched where Luca passed judgment on. He is definitely the one to ask a thousand questions while you’re trying to watch something.

“Ryan told me, Leah was rushed to the hospital yesterday morning.” Luca informs you, “Want to know what for?”

Sitting back against the chair, you keep your arms crossed and fight the urge to roll your eyes, “…not particularly, no.”

Luca bites down on his bottom lip trying to hold it in but doesn’t, “she crapped out a parasite.”

Your mouth drops open, “You’re lying.”

“Honest to flavor town.” Luca does the praying motion before pointing to the sky and you knew it was serious business if he mentioned Guy Fieri.

Clasping a hand against your mouth you try to hide your snickers but Luca picks up on the fact that you found this a little too amusing.

“…what have you done?” He points an accusatory finger at you.

Lifting your shoulders, your lips twist around in laughter and you dared peeked back at Luca who was awaiting your answer. You wouldn’t leave him in the dark much longer, “fine! I sent a cleanse her way after all that day drinking and with my medical knowledge…I thought I’d give a helping hand.”

“Which means what?” Luca pressed, sitting back as well as he listened to you.

“I may have or may not have used the papayas that Grace left here before she went back to Texas when we went to that farmer’s market,” you slowly admit of your time with your old friend who came to visit with her baby girl Charlie, informing your boyfriend of the slight clues, “we both know I’m allergic and I didn’t want them to go to waste. So I made our lovely neighbors some papaya cereal with the seeds, put it up real nice in a jar for them to enjoy. Left it by their door and watched Ryan bring the bait in.”

Luca exhales, “you’re actually starting to scare me.”

“Remember that old nutritionist who’s heavily spiritual I told you about that we always end up seeing once a month at the hospital?” You ask while Luca nods his head, “she experienced the same thing partygirlLeah99 did but her’s was intentional.”

The bomb that you dropped had Luca clenching his eyes shut, “what you’re telling me is…you basically gave our neighbor some form of a laxative?”

“Just removed the toxins and clearly Leah has some. How many parasites was it?”

Luca shook his head, “no, no, no. We’re not just going to skip over the chaotic evil you’ve just done.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I think it was more lawful evil…maybe even good. She pissed on our property, Luca! And Ryan’s a dick.”

Luca holds his forehead now stressed, “Yeah and he can K.O. us if he really wanted to if he ever found out! He’s a professional boxer—

“I don’t care! Lessons need to be taught and he’s out of here in the fall anyway so that’s one less problem we have to deal with.” You shrug as you reach for your water again but Luca snatched it back.

He sighs, “we talked about this…you can’t just go and take matters into your own hands without discussing it with me first. I said I would talk to them about the peeing situation—

“You tried talking to them before! They don’t care about us, and sure they don’t owe us anything but I worked really hard on that charcuterie board, then they excluded us constantly and probably will do it again once Halloween comes around—

“So that’s what this is about? You’re worried about Halloween?” Luca questions, knowing it was one of your favorite Halloween parties.

“How dare they throw a summerween party when I’m the number one queen of the spooks!” You childishly turn your head to peek out into Chicago’s scenery from your first balcony.

Luca sips at your water now and exaggerates as he lets out an, “ah! That’s refreshing but I don’t know what to say about my girlfriend being upset over some people that we don’t even know well enough to care about their perceptions of us, if they even have any.”

Both of your professions caused you to be around all sorts of people, especially some downright mean ones but you both persevered. Luca would always take it as a learning curve, whereas you tended to take things more personal majority of the time. Yes you were the type to cry when angry, go ahead and sue your sensitive heart! Luca was only a little older than you and slightly better at communicating—when he wasn’t a nervous wreck—but you on the other hand tended to proceed with action rather than words or a conversation like Luca.

“Don’t say anything to me, just love me, choose me,” you playfully recite while Luca scoffs, “and wish those bitches an early happy Halloween, specifically from me to them. What she won’t know what hurt her.” You wink while Luca runs a hand over his buzzed summer look in shock.

“Well it actually did,” Luca frowns with his hands held out although you’re still unphased, “and doesn’t this count as assault?”

There goes the panic everybody!

You knew a good lawyer that shared the same blood as Luca (if it ever came to that) you weren’t worried and maybe you were chaotic evil after all? Depends who you ask.

Pouting you say, “Did she die?”

“No!”

“Then everybody wins!” You clap as you push back from the table, “So…What’s for dinner?”

“Not fucking papayas that’s for sure.” Luca states while you laugh, beginning to collect your things to bring back inside.

Luca sits outside for a moment longer, you briefly kiss his lips, him shaking his head at you afterwards once more as he whacks your backside before you head in to search the fridge, and he stares out into the city just wondering what else this place will bring.

Hopefully better understanding of being neighbors in the states!

MIKEY

“The hell happened to you?” Mikey asks, sneaking up behind you in your kitchen.

Which wasn’t unfamiliar for him to do but you did let out a yelp as you stood by your coffee and tea counter. You turned to your old friend, who scanned his eyes all over your filth covered clothes.

“My neighbor Lorraine is mad that I called her son out for being a pervert. Then she tried to argue that my dog is barking at all times of the night so I don’t have the right to speak on her son!” You paced the floor.

Mikey crosses his arms, “well she isn’t too bright because that thing in there is far from a dog,” he starts while you give him the side eye for talking shit about your Maine coon, “and what’s this about a pervert?”

You sigh, “..her son is just this college dropout who’s apparently into astronomy and thinks I don’t catch him with his telescope set out on the front sidewalk, right where the living room window is, as if he’s gone camping with my body being the view!”

It wouldn’t be Mikey’s first time catching you streaking around the house either—that was your fault for giving him a key—but this random kid? He had a problem with.

Mikey rubs at his facial hair, “Was he the one that did this to you?”

You huff, “that little bitch ran as soon as mommy Lorraine thought it would be nice to dump her trash on me out in the courtyard.”

There was always something going on in your courtyard out back, whether it was random cookouts even in the winter!, residents fighting over which outdoor seating technically belonged to them (it didn’t belong to anyone, everybody at the condo had access to it), to Lorraine overpopulating the backyard with her garden and horrible smelling manure, and fires being started by the little kids for fun, Mikey can never say it’s a dull moment on Sunnyside Ave.

“…and what did you do?” Mikey questioned, his lips twisting at the corners, knowing he wasn’t the best influence, especially if the shoe was on the other foot.

Which you knew, hanging out with him, Richie, and even Michelle always had the potential go left very quickly.

“There’s onion juice or some shit in my eye,” you start using your wrist to wipe at your red eye before saying, “and if I somehow end up blind before I get in to my eye doctor this year…it’s a wrap for her.”

“So you’re going in for the silent kill?” Michael summarizes, “that leaves the creeper to me then, is he home? I’d love to have a talk with ‘em!”

He points towards the back door which leads out to the courtyard. You leap forward, latching onto Michael’s wrist, “which I’m sure you’ll get your chance but I see you bought something for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he glanced back at the counter that contained a bag, “you’re real observant aren’t ya?”

“I’m also hungry but I need to get this stench off me first.” You slap your hands beside your thighs.

He jokingly steps forward to take a whiff towards you, “…I wasn’t going to say anything but whew!”

“Shut up, Mikey!” You shove him back but he just laughs.

Mikey pinches a piece of your hair on your way by, pulling something from it, “looks like she got you good with some shallot skin and soil if you ask me! But I got a nice Cubano waiting for ya when you get out.”

Your mouth watered at the mention of your favorite sandwich Mikey always brought over to you every other Tuesday, “can’t wait for that baby to bring me the biggest serotonin.”

Mikey grins at you.

When you drag your eyes back to meet his you ask, “so how was your day, bub? Good?”

“Yeah! I think it’s going to be alright.”

You hold your hand out, “tell me about it?”

He takes your hand as you lead him to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you quickly get into your skincare, terrified of skin mites thanks to some shit Sugar sent to a group chat between you, her, and Michelle. Michael doesn’t mind watching you do your routine, falling into quiet chatter before you strip out of your clothes.

He tries not to let his stare linger but he always thought you were a goddess, even with your clothes on. The comfortability between you two was strong, that at times it felt like there was nothing to ever be afraid of, especially when it came to showing your most vulnerable selves to each other. It’s not long before he’s joining you behind the shower liner, helping each other clean away whatever the day held before you’re embracing each other, arms tucked underneath each others as your now loud conversation fights against the pressure from the shower head.

He tells you all about the possible new hire, her name being Tina and how he feels like she’ll be the one to keep Chicagoland on their toes and in shape. He’s got that spark in his eye when he talks about her, finding a connection and in hopes that she will turn up when she’s ready but he has no doubt that she will.

“Maybe you can call her for backup if you ever come face to face with string bean nose Lorraine.” Mikey jokes over the water.

You scoff, “if the garbage can actually hit me, Lorraine just might need to tap Tina in for her to get me off her ass!”

Mikey chuckles, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead before you tuck your head underneath his chin. If you could’ve, you would have held onto him for eternity.

But…that’s not the way life played out in later episodes.

When Tuesday’s hit, sometimes it still feels like he’s here around your condo trying to scare the shit out of your cat, when he’s the one who’s actually terrified of him. And when you catch yourself staring at Lorraine’s nose a little too long during your small morning chats before you’re both leaving for work—that’s right—you two are now cordial enough to have civilized conversations, and yes you had Michael Berzatto to thank for that.

For constantly seeing the best in everybody, even crazy gardening neighbors who loved composting and believing their son could do no wrong.

Who only knows what Mikey’s conversation with that kid was like. You had a feeling that Richie knew, there was a slim chance that Richie was his ride along when you were off at work or someplace else but Richie would always be Mikey’s keeper.

And you were fine with that, as long as you never saw a telescope again.

ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

SUMMER ‘24 PROMPTS FIN. (For now!)

#Armando Aretas #Armando aretas x reader #jacob scipio #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #preferences #summer writing #queued #Rio good girls #good girls nbc #Rio x reader #manny montana #Luca the bear #Luca the bear x reader #will poulter #Michael Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto x reader

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