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linorachas · 4 years ago

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sunday's best. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff and smut ⁍ word count — 11.2k words ⁍ details — established relationship, domesticity, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing (again), you're both really in love (again), hard smut | details under the cut ⁍ notes — part 2 of for the weekend is here! thank you so much to everyone who supported part 1 and asked for more. it gave me so much motivation to start and finish this one and i maaay have gotten a little bit carried away considering it's almost triple the size. and the smut... yea.... this could be read as a one-shot, but there’s a lot of elements from pt. 1 that i referenced in here, so please check that one out first! and also please please lmk if you enjoyed! ♥️ ⁍ summary — Day 2. Holding up your end of the deal, strawberry ice cream, and Ugly Cat bowls.

⁍ smut specifics — dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, one mention of the word "daddy", possessiveness on chan’s part (but not the asshole kind), a smidge of oral (f. receiving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking (but not really? just hand on throat), reader talks about liking the pain a lot, dry humping, slightest bit of cum play ⁍ little side note — please practice safe sex u guys. wrap it up. these guys are not good role models at all. be safe. also always pee after sex. plz. also this isn't proofread god bless

Saturday, 3:20 pm

“Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

You hold your breath, stunned at the determination in Chan’s eyes. You’re distracted at the way his lips curl and at how his dimples pop out, your eyes following the line of his broad shoulders. You eye the ridges of his arms, down to the veins in his hands, parched throat swallowing when you get to his defined abs.

God, he was sexy.

You follow his happy trail, down and down until-- ah. Right. He was still naked. In the kitchen.

Your face scrunches up comically, desire disappearing as you hop off the counter and shoo him away.

“Go get some clothes, what the hell. Do you know how unsanitary it is to be naked in here? Gross, Chan.”

Staring at you in disbelief, Chan gapes, “after you just blatantly checked me out? I saw that!”

You walk past him, rummaging through the cupboards for food. “Unless you want me to come near you with a pair of scissors close to your-”

“I��m going, I’m going!” Chan shouts, as he rushes back to the bedroom, the panic in his voice making you laugh.

You’re just starting to fill up a pot with water when arms sneak around your waist and a very clingy but now fully dressed Bang Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, humming.

“What do you want me to cook for you, baby?” He asks excitedly, ready to do anything.

You snort. “Unless you can magically conjure up some groceries, I don’t think you can cook me anything at all.”

Chan freezes at that, releasing his hold on you so he could open the refrigerator and cupboards, mouth dropping in shock when he sees that there really was no food. You’ve both been so busy this week, spending most of your meals at that company, that you both probably forgot to do mini-grocery runs.

“Though we do have like, 4 packs of ramen left and half a can of spam.” You call Chan’s attention back to you, gesturing towards the food on the counter. Chan, the big eater that he was, deflates at the sight, looking exactly like a kicked puppy.

“Aw, I know that’s not enough for you, baby.” You coo, shuffling over to Chan to pinch his cheek. It starts gentle at first, but then you put a bit of pressure, narrowing your eyes. “But if you eat more than your share, I’m biting you.”

Chan yelps, nodding rapidly as your pinch his cheek harder, “okay! Okay! I won’t steal from your share, I promise, baby- ow!”

You relent soon after, pressing a sweet kiss to Chan’s reddened cheek as he scowls at you. “Good. Now let’s get cooking, because if I don’t have food in me in the next 3 minutes I really might start biting you.”

Chan jumps out of your reach at that, and you watch him with a smile as he bustles around to prepare your food. You get a bowl each after it cooks, perfectly equal in portion size. There aren’t any words being shared as you both settle on the couch, your thighs pressed together as you slurp on your noodles, putting on a drama you were both invested in. Chan doesn’t notice when you slip your one last remaining piece of spam into his bowl, too busy berating a main character for being stupid, but he does let you finish off the soup in his bowl.

You and Chan start working on chores after that, because when you were looking for the remote control under the couch, you’re greeted with a cloud of dust, making you sneeze thrice.

Chan laughs at you, but then he’s cut off by his own sneeze too. You share one look before you’re both scrambling towards the cleaning supplies.

It takes you both hours just to clean the whole apartment and do some laundry, the sky already dark when you settle back down on the couch.

Considering you literally had no ingredients to cook with, you decide to order for dinner, and there’s a small dispute as to who has to get up to accept the food and pay the delivery man. The fight is resolved with a quick game of rock, paper, scissors; Chan winning fairly, but you still complain on your way to the door.

“We should work out,” Chan pipes up suddenly when you’re both lying on your sides on the couch, him being the little spoon. Dinner was a quick affair, and now you’re both just basking in the happiness of having a full stomach.

You make a face. “Was that not enough of a workout?” you ask, referring to your spotless apartment.

Chan snorts, turning around so his front was facing you. But he slides down, making a sound akin to purr as he buries his face in your neck. “I mean, like. Yoga. Leg day reps. Jogging?”

You groan, pinching his side. “I dance for a living. You go work out. Let me rot on this couch for tonight.”

Chan laughs at that, but doesn’t pester you about it anymore. You let him rest on your clavicle as you focus on your attention to the drama that was currently airing on the TV, slightly interested now.

You’d have thought Chan was asleep if it wasn’t for the kisses that he presses on your neck, harmless little pecks that soon have a bit of teeth in them. You lean your head back, finding the action more comforting than anything, but then Chan’s tongue suddenly darts out to lick at a spot near your jaw, and you shiver.

You sigh, but you don’t push him away. Instead, your fingers card through his hair, making Chan groan happily. He stops pestering your neck then, enjoying your fingers massaging and scratching at his scalp.

But your first mistake was thinking you were safe, because suddenly, there’s a thigh slipping in between your legs, pressing against your covered mound.

“Ah,” you moan, surprised, but Chan doesn’t do anything else after that, just lets his thigh rest there. You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “I thought you were going to work out.”

“This is my workout.” Chan whispers, and when you feel his devilish smile against your skin, you knew you were doomed.

Chan presses his thigh against your clothed pussy more insistently, making you squirm. The thin material of your panties and sleep shorts barely provided any layers between you, heightening the pleasure.

His thigh flexes, and the feeling of your clit grinding down on the hardened muscle was simply too good to ignore, and you’re humping Chan’s thigh before you could even think twice about it.

“Good girl,” Chan praises when he notices your hips gyrating, leaning up for a second to press a sweet kiss to your lips. He continues to adjust, helping you find the best position for your pleasure. “Keep rubbing that pretty pussy on me, baby, that’s it.”

You moan when a hand slides under your shirt and brushes against one of your nipples, Chan rolling the slowly hardening nub between his fingers. You feel yourself getting wet embarrassingly quick, and you knew you could cum like this. Chan has made you cum multiple times before just from clitoral stimulation alone, and dry humping was no exception to that.

You’re just about to ask if he was really going to let you cum, but then Chan pulls his thigh away, and the knot in your stomach disappears.

You groan for an entirely different reason now, upset at your orgasm being taken away from you. But Chan busies himself with tugging at your shirt until you get the idea and take it off, and he immediately latches his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking.

You suck in a breath through gritted teeth, pressing his head closer to your chest as he paid attention to both your nipples, licking and sucking and biting. You were getting uncomfortably wet now, your panties damp, and you convey this to Chan in hopes that he would speed things up.

You should have known that it would just spur him on.

“You wet for me already?” Chan asks once he stops marking your breasts, facing you with a grin.

You nod rapidly. “Yes, so if you could fuck m-”

“Ah,” Chan tuts, “let me feel first.”

You don’t even get a chance to protest because Chan’s hand is already disappearing, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties to slide two of his fingers between your folds. You jolt at the contact, moaning as he uses those two fingers to rub circles on your clit gently.

“Chan,” you moan and he hums distractedly, leaning down to suck more marks on your skin. He slips in a finger without warning, but since you were so wet and ready for him, you took his finger in easily.

Chan curses, testing the waters by slipping in a second finger slowly, and though there was a bit of a sting this time, his second finger slides in just as easily.

“God, baby, you’re soaking.”

Chan crooks his fingers, brushing against your g-spot almost immediately, making you jolt and whine. He picks up the pace, fingers fucking in and out you fast despite your underwear and shorts restricting most of his hand movement.

He comes up for a kiss, your mouth opening automatically for him to slip his tongue in. He groans into your mouth at your obedience, free hand gripping your jaw tight. He sucks on your tongue just as he adds a third finger, and you pull away to hiss.

Chan’s fingers were long and filled you up nicely, and with how he was rubbing at your g-spot insistently, it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm climbing up again.

“I’m prepping you, but it looks like you don’t need it with how you’re sucking my fingers in, baby.” Chan shakes his head, playful disbelief coloring his tone. “Did you think about my cock in you all day? Wanted me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yeah, yes, I- ah,” you gasp, nodding at his words rapidly. Chan leans in to kiss you again, but you manage to stop him with a shaky hand pressed to his chest, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“You held up your end of the deal,” you whisper, already breathless, “it’s time I hold up mine.”

Chan’s eyes darken, and you squeak when he suddenly sits up on his knees, free hand yanking your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion. He leans back down to get the kiss you stopped at before, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and making you moan.

“But first,” Chan murmurs against your lips, voice leaving no room for discussion. “You cum for me now.”

Now that there was no clothing to restrict his hand movements, the pace of Chan’s fingers picked up faster, driving you crazy and making you squirm on the couch. Chan pins your hips down with his other hand so he could drive his fingers into you easily, and the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting inside your cunt was so lewd you felt yourself blushing.

It only takes a quick brush of Chan’s thumb against your clit to have your body snapping, trembling in Chan’s arms as your hole convulses against his fingers. Chan groans like he was the one having an orgasm, eyes appreciatively staring at the way your head was thrown back, chest heaving up and down.

Chan pulls his fingers out carefully, planning to just wipe them on his shirt, but then you make a noise, catching his attention. He looks up, confused, but then sees the way your gaze was trained on his fingers— which were slicked with your juices— and his cock got so hard, it started to hurt.

“Fuck, you’re filthy.” Chan whispers, but he brings his fingers up to your lips, letting you lick and suck to your heart’s content. Chan swallows as you look up at him through your lashes, cleaning his fingers thoroughly with long swipes of your tongue. For each glimpse he sees of the wet appendage around his finger, his dick jumps in his sweatpants.

You pull off slowly when you finish, eyes still locked with Chan’s. The both of you were breathing hard now, gazes intense as you stared each other down. At first, you felt like both the predator and the prey. Chan could destroy you with his fingers alone if he wanted to, but he was easy to fluster as well.

But then Chan tilts your head up with a single finger, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips, a kiss so full of intent, lust and— love, that it leaves you breathless, eyes wide.

Chan lips quirk. “Bedroom?”

Saturday, 10:41 pm.

“Arch for me, baby.” Chan orders, breathless, hand smoothing down your lower back. You were truthfully too weak to hold yourself up already, mind numbed with pleasure, but you do your best, legs shaking with the effort to present yourself. But the pleased grumble that immediately comes out of Chan definitely makes the grueling position worth it.

You were both naked now, having shed Chan’s clothes as soon as you stumbled through the bedroom door, after you spent a good ten minutes just making out against it. Chan had shut the door with a quick kick, carrying you on the way to the bed even though it was only a few steps away.

But you didn’t complain, not when he dropped you in the middle and immediately manhandled you to your hand and knees, tugging your hips close to him with a grunt.

“That’s my good girl,” Chan leans down, whispering the words against the nape of your neck as the tip of his cock slid between your folds.

You start whining, because you were much more exposed in this position and you were being good but Chan wasn’t doing anything about it and you just wanted to be fucked. You convey your displeasure by pushing back against Chan’s cock, trying to get it to slip in you without his help.

“Want it inside, sweetheart? Hm?” Chan mumbles against your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe teasingly. “I can feel your greedy little hole twitching against me. Shit, you want it that bad?”

You nod rapidly, uncaring of how desperate you looked. Mostly because Chan liked that look on you. He liked knowing that you let your guard down around him, that nobody in the world could bring you to your knees and have you begging to be filled like he does.

Chan never explicitly shows how much he likes thinking that you belong to him, because he really does believe you’re your own person and not an object to be owned. But here, like this, with your throbbing pussy against this cock and your teary eyes pitifully looking up at him to do something, anything— it brought out a sense of possessiveness in Chan that he never knew he had.

These were the kind of feelings that only you could bring out of him. You were the only one who ever made him feel like this, and the rush of both excitement and fear over it admittedly has him going crazy at times.

But there’s nothing in the world he loves more than knowing you feel exactly the same.

He sees this in the way you tilt your head up, begging for a kiss. It has him breaking out of character, lips tugging up into a fond smile, since he’d planned to be mean and tease you for a bit. But he doesn’t resist when he leans down to kiss you, not when the urge is so strong. Especially not when your smile against his lips felt like the world’s most addicting drug.

Ah, how lucky was he to have fallen in love with you?

“Channie,” you hiccup once he pulls away, and he presses kisses down your shoulder, hiding a smile. This is why he could never be a hard dom with you. One kiss and he’s weak.

“Mhm, I got it, I got it. Just relax for me, yeah? I’ll fill you up real good, sweetheart. Just relax for me.” Chan soothes, pulling back to sit up on his knees.

He grabs a hold of his cock so he could line it up and push in, but then he can’t stop the groan that comes out his throat when the contact eases the pressure on his cock. He hasn’t been touched since you started, and with how wet you were when he pressed against you, he didn’t even need lube. His hand slid up and down easily.

You bit your lip. You were torn between enjoying the godly image of Chan jerking off to the sight of you bent over for him or finally enjoying the feeling of being filled up. Chan pleasuring himself was always a sight to see, veiny arms flexing every time his hand moved.

His eyes fluttered close, and your eyes greedily followed the line of his jaw and the long column of his throat, mouth dry with how much you wanted to suck marks on it.

But you were once again reminded why you can’t, and you were in this position for a reason.

“My end of the deal,” you start, catching your boyfriend’s attention, “was to let myself be fucked six ways to sunday.”

You pause, your hand sliding behind you to slip your own fingers into your soaking pussy. You moan when one finger slips right in, bright eyes meeting Chan’s dark ones.

“Should I have just done that myself?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the way Chan yanked your finger out, gaze hard as he locked both your arms behind you back. He was only holding your arms back with one of his hands, but the grip felt as tight as a rope.

You shiver in anticipation.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.” Chan hisses, finally pushing his cock inside, easily slipping in with how wet and stretched you were from his fingers.

He moves slowly, determined to make you feel every inch and ridge and vein of his cock against your clenching walls. You squirm and gasp as he pushes and pushes, filling you up so well until his hips are finally flushed against your ass.

“I’ll fuck you so well you’ll feel it here,” he slides his free hand down to your lower stomach, pressing down until he almost feels his cock bulging in you, “and you’ll feel it until next weekend.”

Then he pulls back and thrusts inside again, this time slamming in hard.

You choke on a breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Chan goes in deep and fast. The position allowed him to reach inside you deeper than ever, and you almost swear you feel him in your stomach.

He finds your g-spot again in no time, knowing your body better than you do. You jerk in his hold when he does and a scream gets stuck in your throat, and the fact that you could feel Chan’s amusement from your reaction just made it even hotter. You had no time to breath from how hard and fast Chan was fucking you, let alone make a sound.

God, you loved it.

It’s what has you cumming in no more than three more thrusts, mouth gaping like a fish out of water as the knot in your stomach finally snapped. Chan seems to have noticed, given that you were clenching around him like crazy, and the laugh he lets out is so attractive that you feel yourself clench again.

“Aww, already, Y/N?” He teases, making you flush. He sounded smug, and you made a mental note to kick him for it later.

And though he seemed to have noticed your orgasm, Chan doesn’t stop. In fact, he shifts his position and somehow finds a way to push himself in deeper, forcefully pushing a long, drawn out moan from your throat. He makes you ride out your orgasm, eyes staring intently at the way his cock slid in out of you, covered in your juices.

“Shit, Channn,” you groan out his name, voice breaking as he continues to drive his cock into you. “I- ah, ah, Channie, please, I can’t-“

“You can,” Chan grunts out simply, as if he knew your core was already tightening for your second orgasm in a row.

You open your mouth again to plead— for him to stop or keep going? you didn’t know— but then Chan slows down, and you finally manage to suck in the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Keeping his cock in you, Chan lets go of your arms, both of his hands now sliding under your torso to pull you up. You gasp at the sudden change in position, now sitting back on your knees as Chan’s arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

“Fuck,” Chan grunts in your ear, inhaling through gritted teeth as he thrusts into you again properly. His fingers trail down your hips and up your stomach, hands brushing up and down your skin like he was mapping it out. It tickled, and with every brush of Chan’s hand against a sensitive part of your body, you clench.

He moans lowly, the sound right by your ear and making you shiver. “You open up so well for me. You always do. So perfect for me, beautiful.”

Chan presses heated kisses on your shoulder, hands now gripping your waist tight so he could position you in a way that was pleasurable for both of you. When Chan’s lips trail higher, you subconsciously bear your neck to him, making him smile.

“Please,” you breathe out, your eyes stinging from the almost painful knot in your stomach, back so soon even though you’ve just calmed down.

“Again.” Chan exhales against your ear, hips picking up that demonic pace again. “Cum for me again.”

You moan, nodding mindlessly as Chan pulls you back onto his cock at the same time he thrusts forward. His big cock fills you up in all the right places, brushing against your sweet spot constantly and driving you crazy each time.

Since you were now being held up by Chan himself, you didn’t know what to do with your hands at this point, nails digging into your palms and creating indents.

But Chan, as attentive as ever even when he’s fucking you into oblivion, notices your hand situation and guides your arms upwards, pushing them back until your hands tangle in his hair instead.

The new position worked well for the both of you, because your back was arched to accommodate your arms, and Chan could drive his cock in that good kind of deep again.

Chan’s grunts by your ear just get you even hotter, along with his hisses every time you clench around him. He murmurs dirty praises in your ear, telling you over and over again how good your cunt felt around him and how you were taking him so well and how he’d love nothing more to be buried in you forever, so you’d never feel empty again.

The last straw is when his free hand comes up to your neck, fingers closing around your jaw so he could tilt your head up. You gasps noisily at that, tugging on his hair in surprise. You and Chan have talked about choking before, and though he wasn’t really cutting off your air, the feeling of his hand around your throat was more than enough to get you locking up around him.

Chan coos, lips brushing against your cheek as he talked you towards your orgasm. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me feel you cream around my cock again,” he grunts, pushing through the tight vice-like grip your walls had around him, “Come on, gorgeous. Let me feel it. Want you to cum for me again.”

You sob out Chan’s name, unaware of the tears slipping down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and came for the second time in a matter of minutes. It was too fast, too sudden, still too sensitive from your last orgasm—

—and it was everything you ever wanted.

Chan immediately slows down when you start spasming around him, letting you ride out your orgasm slowly this time. He continues to murmur praises in your ear, pressing open mouthed kisses on the shoulder nearest to him.

You’re hiccuping and gasping his name, fingers tugging on his hair desperately. You were so lost in pleasure that you don’t notice him slowly pulling out and sitting back on his knees, pulling you back with him. He untangles your hands from his hair gently, and your arms limp at your sides now that you’re slumped over.

Chan brushes your hair back from your sweaty face when your head lolls back, and you easily accept the searing kiss that he presses on your lips. Though you were barely kissing back, breathing too hard to move your lips, you refused to let him pull away.

Chan’s kisses were like air for you during times like this, and you drink them in greedily.

“You were so good for me.” Chan praises once he pulls away, eyes bright as he stares down at you lovingly, thumb brushing against the tear tracks on your cheeks. “My good girl.”

Slipping an arm under your knees, he rearranges your positions so you could lie down on the middle of the bed. Chan lies on his side next to you, one hand propping his head up while the other hand intertwines with yours, squeezing every few seconds.

You were in a limbo, somewhere between still being conscious of your surroundings and feeling floaty, but Chan’s murmured praises and constant touches bring you back to the ground fully.

“Good?” Chan asks, sounding genuine, but you catch the smug look in his eyes.

You laugh quietly in response, eyes rolling good-naturedly, hand coming up to punch him playfully. Chan grins wide, leaning down so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

And when he pulls away, he brings your intertwined hands up to his face so he could place a kiss on the back of your hand too. You shudder from the sudden wave of affection going through you, feeling so lucky to be taken care of by someone as caring as Chan.

But. There was one issue.

“Channie,” you exhale, shifting to your side so you could plaster your sweaty body close to his, burying your face in his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Hmm?” He lets go of your hand so he could tuck your hair behind your ear, wanting to see your face.

“You didn’t-“ you start, indicating to the hard-on pressed against your thigh. You hear the breath he sucks in when you grind against it, but then there’s a hand stopping your hips from moving any more.

“We don’t have to.” Chan reassures, referring to your fucked out state as nicely as he could. It made you chuckle, until— “I already made you cry, anyway.”

You swat at his stomach, making him groan and laugh at the same time. He falls back onto the mattress, giggling as he shielded his torso away from your hands.

He was right, though. Your legs were already shaking, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how sore you would be tomorrow. Not to mention the different bite marks around your body. You look like you’ve just been mauled by a wild animal.

But—

“I want more.” You whine softly, knowing it got to Chan whenever you vocalized what you wanted. You crawl up his body slowly, watching as he licked his lips. You hips lower, sitting right on Chan’s cock and grinding, and you relish in the way his teeth grits.

You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear before whispering, “Want you to cum in me.”

“Shit,” Chan curses, hands coming up to catch your hips in a bruising grip, halting your movements again. He was definitely holding back for your sake, but you didn’t want that. You had a deal to uphold.

“Come on, daddy.” You purr in his ear, grinning when he tenses again. “Don’t you want to fuck me full of your cum?”

You squeak when Chan flips your positions, him now on top of you and your arms pinned above your head. You breathe heavily, watching as his glazed eyes rake over your marked form, like he was taking you in. Carving the way you look into his memories.

He leans down then, arms caging the sides of your head. “You drive me crazy.” He admits, voice fond despite his heated look, and you blush all the way to the tip of your ears.

“Crazy enough for you to fuck me into the mattress?” You ask, voice tilting up hopefully as you flush, but you’re cut off by your own moan when Chan suddenly spreads your legs and ducks down, tongue licking a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the sudden attack to your sensitive pussy, head throwing back and hands immediately coming down to grip Chan’s hair. “You- what are you- oh, fuck me.”

You could feel the puffs of breath against your clit as Chan laughed, and you hit him on the back using your foot, annoyed that he was laughing as you lost your mind. He ignores you, swirling and flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub, before continuing to dip his tongue inside you.

The moan he lets out rivals your own, and you gasp as Chan eats pussy like he’s a starved man and it's his first meal, the slurping noises he makes sounding lewd even to your own ears.

You chant his name like a prayer, squirming on the bed as you tug on his hair hard. That only serves to make him moan, which in turn also made you clench again.

“Baby,” you sob, “please. If I don’t get your cock in me, I’ll- I- please.”

Chan finally lets up at that, pressing one last kiss to your swollen clit before he kisses his way up your body.

“Yeah? You need it?” He asks, breathless, but it was clear he wasn’t waiting for an answer. He must be as worked up as you are, because there was no more teasing this time, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit.

“What the hell was that,” you demand, voice clipped because Chan was pushing inside you again, testing the waters with miniscule thrusts. You jerk each time.

“Wanted you to shut up.” Chan chuckles, but he’s cut off by his own groan when he feels your hot, velvety walls clamp around him in response. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling how wet you were from both your juices and his spit.

“Shit, baby, how are you still so tight?” Chan sighs contentedly, pressing open mouthed kisses to your cheek. He’s got his upper arms on either side of your head, and you’re so close together that your breasts press against his chest, making you jolt with every brush of your nipples against his pecs. “You fit my cock so well, got me so hard-“

“It’s cause- ah, I’m made for you, shit, right there-” you slur mindlessly, head thrown back from the pleasure as Chan drove straight into your g-spot again and again. The way he hit it so precisely each time should have freaked you out, but you were far too out of your mind with pleasure to think about it.

Chan’s hips falter at the words.

“What did you say, baby? Say that again.” Chan demands, sounding desperate, and you gather all the strength you had left to pick your head up and look up at him. With how close you were, you were pressed nose to nose, Chan leaning down even further so your forehead pressed together. You meet eyes, and you shudder at the intensity of his gaze, suddenly looking much more animalistic than before. Ah.

Bullseye.

“Was made for you.” You murmur again, clearer now, arms coming up to wrap around Chan’s shoulders for leverage as he used you to get to his own orgasm. “I take your cock well because you’ve ruined me for anybody else, Chan,” you admit, eyes shaking. “Nobody’s ever— ever going to make me feel like this. Like you do- oh, fuck!”

You feel Chan bristling at the mention of someone else, and despite your fuzzy mind, you rush to placate him. “I’m yours, baby. Just yours.” you swear, cupping his cheek and forcing him to focus his gaze on you. You needed him to understand. “Any way you want. All of me. I’m all yours.”

Chan’s hips stutter, and he leans down to press your mouths together again. He’s moving too much to have your lips locked in a proper kiss, but he nibbles your lips, breathing heavily as he whispers, “Mine.” over and over again against your jaw.

Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him. The pleasure and pain was so blurred that it was making you tear up again, but you pull him closer and beg him to go harder.

There’s a certain urgency to his thrusts now, more frantic and more desperate now that he’s let himself go, and you relish in his unrestrained groans and moans mixing with your own.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice guttural, and just the sounds of his fucked out voice saying your name has you tightening immediately again, making both you and Chan gasp. “Shit, baby, wait, I’m close- where-“

“Inside.” You beg, now nose to nose to Chan as he leaned his forehead on top of yours, eyes searching frantically. “Inside. I told you earlier, didn’t I?”

Chan groans, a loud and raw sound that vibrates against your chest, especially when he ducks his head down to the side so you were cheek to cheek now. You feel his teeth nip at your earlobe, low moans loud in your ear as his thrusts get more sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Y/N, are you-“

“I’m sure, Chan.” You turn your head, and your lips brush against his ear when you beg, “cum inside me. I want to feel it, want you to fuck your cum back into me. Please.”

Chan grunts, cock pulsing inside you at the thought. He was so close— teetering right at the edge as you continued to clench around him and whisper filthy things in his ear.

The last straw is when you tug his head back just in time, forcibly making your gazes meet when you whisper,

“Please, baby. Remind me that I’m yours.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as he finally stills and pumps his cum into you. The first spurt has you gasping noisily, clutching onto Chan tightly as he fills you up. You maintain eye contact for one glorious moment, but Chan’s eyes eventually flutter shut due to the overwhelming pleasure. You watch as his head lolls back, throat working out grunts and moans, complete bliss on his face.

The look is what triggers your fourth and final orgasm; dry and painfully, painfully good.

When he picks his head back up, your lips meet in a bruising kiss, tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking as you both ride out your orgasm, him milking his cock inside you.

If you were filled before, you were bursting at the seams now.

Chan doesn’t pull out for a couple of minutes, the both of you catching your breath. But when he does finally pull out you immediately hiss, clearly oversensitive.

You clench unconsciously, but it’s no use, because you’re already shuddering from the feeling of Chan’s cum trailing out your hole.

Chan swallows, eyes staring intently at the way you clenched and unclenched with his cum dripping out of you, and he curses when his spent dick gives an interested twitch.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you croak out, shaking as you stretch your legs out. “If you so much as touch me right now, I might pass out.”

Chan’s lips quirk at the playfulness in your tone, but he knew there was some truth to your words. So he asks you if he can go get something to clean you up, only moving when you give him a clear response of yes. He’s back with a clean, damp cotton towel a minute later, as well as a bottle of water.

You groan in thanks when he makes you drink, patiently waiting until you’re finished to call your attention.

“Baby,” he calls, and you turn your head to face him. He holds the towel up as a form of a question, and you sigh, knowing it was better than nothing. You weren’t in any position to shower right now.

“Be careful, pl-“

“Shh.” Chan smoothes, starting by rubbing a thumb on your thigh. You were so high-strung that even that simple touch startled you, but Chan takes his sweet time and doesn’t rush you, distracting you with kisses every time you spasm.

He finishes cleaning you up soon enough, doing all the work and refusing to let you lift even a finger. You end up cuddled together after, just basking in each other’s warmth and your post-orgasm glows.

Sex with Chan was always amazing, because no matter how slow or how hard and fast you two went, it always ended in sweet kisses and cuddling. Chan never takes his hands off you, not even for a second, always attentive to your needs and wants. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the whole wide world.

In the background, a phone pings, jolting you out of your daze.

“Babe,” Chan calls when he unlocks his phone, chuckling under his breath. “I really did fuck you six ways to sunday.”

You prop your head up on his arm, peering up at his phone lazily. The first thing you see is a picture of you on the lockscreen, taken from when you were napping on his studio couch. The second thing you see is the time and date.

Sunday, 1:34 am.

You snort, turning away from the harsh glare of his phone to bury your face in his bicep. “That wasn’t even six. That was like— three. Or four at most. I don’t know. I blacked out.”

Chan snickers, locking his phone and tossing it on the nightstand. He’ll deal with the notifications tomorrow. For now...

He turns back to you, lips tugging into a smirk as he trails the tip of his fingers down your back, making you shudder.

“Wanna make it six, then? We still have time.”

You immediately yelp, slapping his hand away and rolling off him. You wiggle under the covers, tucking it around you to shield your body away from Chan’s hands.

“Are you crazy?! I can’t even feel my lower half!” You squawk, glaring at him from where you’re peeking behind the covers.

Chan laughs, that squeaky loud laugh you love that has his whole body shaking and eyes crinkling. He crawls over to you and nuzzles his face on top of your head, giggles pressing against your hair.

“Babyyy,” he whines, still laughing. “Let me in. I’m cold.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “What will you trade me?”

Chan’s eyebrows wiggle. “Your blanket for my body.”

You groan in disgust, turning your body away from your laughing boyfriend. Chan usually thinks he’s soooo hilarious, and he believes you do too.

Hiding, you bite back a smile.

“Yah,” he complains now, wrapping his lanky limbs around your burrito looking form from behind. “Come out already. I wanna cuddle.”

You wiggle out the covers soon enough, because you truthfully wanted to cuddle too, and plus, Chan’s pecs were nice to lie on. He welcomes you in his arms easy, huffing out a laugh when you smooch one of his pecs lovingly.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You admit after a few minutes, making Chan groan in disbelief.

“You’re insatiable. There’s no end to that stomach, is there?” Chan asks rhetorically, and you open your mouth to answer because you want to annoy him, but Chan catches you before you could. His hand comes up to cover your mouth, though his hand was so big that he ends up covering your nose as well. “Nope. Shut up. Quiet now.”

You laugh behind his hand, squirming and struggling until he finally relents when you lick his palm. And as if he didn’t just fuck his cum into you earlier, Chan scrunches his face and says, “Gross.”

You scoff. “You fuck me well into the next day and you’re expecting me not to get hungry?!”

“But this kitchen is so far,” Chan whines, even though you didn’t really ask him to get food for you. You’re just about to tell him that, when he adds, “-but fine. I’ll miss you for all the time that it takes you to get food.”

Chan flops back on the bed, eyes shut and clearly expecting you to leave. You squawk, pretending to be offended and swatting at his chest. “You’re just going to let your girlfriend go out into the night like that?! When I can’t even walk?!”

Chan opens one eye, amused. “The night is just 15 steps away.”

“Fine.” you huff, scooting back to your position. You drop your head down on Chan’s chest-- hard-- making him yelp. “I wasn’t even that hungry anyway. And we don’t even have food.”

He laughs, hand automatically finding its way to your hair. “I’ll get you whatever you want tomorrow, I promise. We’ll get brunch on the way to getting groceries, okay? How about that?”

You sniffle. “I want chicken.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it, just fondness. “Then we’ll get chicken.”

“‘kay.”

You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Chan’s fingers carding through your hair. His pecs were the perfect pillows, and combined with your post-sex exhaustion and Chan’s warmth, you were sure you were about to fall sleep. Dreamland was one step away, and you’re just about to fall into the waiting arms of a deep sleep when suddenly--

Chan’s stomach growls. Loud.

You burst out laughing, body curling up and shaking as you turn to Chan, who was hiding his face behind his arms in embarrassment.

“And I’m the insatiable one?”

“Not one word.” Chan huffs, refusing to meet your eyes as he grabs some clothes to throw at you. They land on your face, a move you knew was deliberate because you were still giggling.

Chan was the cutest when he was flustered, and even in the dim lighting of your room, you could see how red his ears were.

So you both bundle up— in only a few articles of clothing since it was an unusually hot night— just for the sake of looking decent. Chan wiggles in some sweatpants, and you slip on his shirt and boxers.

When you get up from the bed, Chan-- ever the gentleman that he is-- genuinely panics when you flail due to your legs buckling, and his arms are around you holding you up before you could even blink.

“You really can’t walk?” Chan asks, sounding hilariously horrified.

“No-” you laugh, “don’t look so scared. You didn’t break me, idiot. I can definitely still walk, just let me get used to it.”

But Chan seemed to think otherwise, because suddenly, your feet are off the ground and you’re being carried bridal style. You yelp, arms coming up to lock around Chan’s neck so you don’t fall.

“What.” This is the second time you’ve been carried to the kitchen in under a day, courtesy of your muscly boyfriend who seemed to think picking people up was something you can do casually.

“It’d take too long. I’m hungry.” Chan huffs, and you roll your eyes, amused. Chan could be a baby when he was hungry, and this was evident in how he rummages through the fridge with little huffs after he sets you down.

“There’s nothing to eat.” He sighs, as if the both of you didn’t already know that.

You groan, leaning against the counter. “I’m pretty sure we have ice cream?”

“That’s not very healthy.” Chan frowns, but opens the freezer door anyway and grabs the tub when he sees it.

You only turn around for a second to get a spoon, but when you face Chan again, he’s already sitting cross-legged on the floor, brows furrowed as he attempts to use the lid to scoop out some ice cream. You huff out a breath, exasperated and fond at the same time.

He looks up at the sound, then grins when you meet eyes. He opens his arms then, beckoning you over, and you carefully sit between his legs. Chan shifts a little bit to the side, hooking his chin on your shoulder. You move your hair to the other side so it won’t bother Chan, and he presses a quick peck to your now exposed cheek in thanks.

You yelp when Chan places the icy tub on your bare thighs, then glare when he just giggles. Chan’s shirt was huge on you, so he pulled it over your knees, giving the tub of ice cream a blanket of sorts to sit on and sparing your thighs.

Then, he takes the spoon from your hand, stabbing it through the iced treat with all the strength of a man who works out.

It barely pokes through. The ice cream was too frozen.

But you still wow exaggeratedly in an attempt to boost his ego, squealing when Chan digs his free hand on your side and tickles you. The spoon still gets a tiny, tiny bit of ice cream though, and you hate that you still blush when Chan feeds it to you.

“I think we have to wait for this to melt.” Chan says, blowing on the tub. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, giggling.

“Why are you blowing on it, then?”

“Why am I- oh.”

You laugh at the dumbstruck expression on Chan’s face, finally realizing he was unconsciously blowing on frozen ice cream. Your laugh echoes throughout the apartment, and it’s only at that moment that you realized how quiet it was. The refrigerator hums beside you two, but other than that and some cars passing by outside, it was complete silence.

You realize how dark it was too, the only light sources coming from the refrigerator, and your bedroom.

“Shouldn’t we turn on the light?” You ask, and Chan looks up from where he’s violently stabbing the ice cream.

“Eh. Fridge works. Plus it’s hot, so I’m not closing this.” Chan shrugs, then pauses when he sees the look on your face. He chuckles, pulling you closer to him by the waist. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’m right here, remember?”

“I’m not scared,” you scoff, but scoot closer to Chan anyway.

The ice cream eventually melts enough for the spoon to dig in, and you and Chan take turns feeding each other. Chan had his back against some drawers, while you were tucked between Chan’s legs, head on his shoulder and ice cream tub on your stomach. The condensation was wetting your shirt and making the cold seep to your stomach, but you didn’t mind. You were too comfortable to move.

Chan was making a habit of kissing you after he fed you a spoon, and you liked the feeling of his cold lips tasting like strawberries more than you’d like to admit. Some tongue slips in after a while, but it doesn’t go any further than that, both of you too exhausted.

The dim light of the fridge casts a yellowish hue on yours and Chan’s lower halves, creating shadows. You play with that for a moment, wiggling your legs and making shadow puppets of animals with your hands. Chan watches you silently, so silent that you think for a moment that he’d fallen asleep.

But then he drops the spoon into the tub— and all while keeping his other arm around your waist— reaches a hand out to the light so it creates a shadow, and shapes his hand into…

...half of a heart.

You grin stupidly, and the way your heart rattles inside your chest shouldn’t be normal. At all. You had to get checked out. This was the type of cheesy things Chan loved to do daily, yet you reacted to each and every one of them like it’s his first time doing so.

He loved leaving heart doodles on the whiteboard by the fridge that had your schedules in it, particularly hearts that were next to your name. He dedicates songs to you, writes about you, and even sings to you when you want him to. He stops by the practice room when he knows you’re inside, slipping in quickly to say hello and kiss your forehead, uncaring of the loud teasing from trainees.

But if you couldn’t say hello, if you were in the middle of something, he always, always made sure to leave a heart on the mirrors that were fogged up from intense dancing. Sometimes it would just be a heart, sometimes it was a doodle. Other times it was a message like; good luck, or see you at lunch, or hey sexy with a winking face.

Most of the time, it’s three simple words.

I love you, it would read.

“Yah,” Chan complains, jolting you out of your sappy stupor. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

He’s frowning now, wiggling the little half heart around impatiently. You grin at that, muttering about how he was being a baby and making him huff. But then you finally reach forward, painfully aware of how your heart jumped from doing this one simple action.

You complete the heart, and you both watch the shadow that it forms.

Chan sighs happily, turning his head to press a quick, cold kiss to your cheek. You knew the heart wasn’t going to stay for long, since your arms would get tired, but Chan doesn’t break the heart to pull away.

Instead, he intertwines your fingers, letting the shadow from some weird version of your hands together, and it’s only then that he brings your hands back. You grin as you lean back against him again, Chan wrapping both arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

At 2:04 am, you sit with Chan on the kitchen floor, the refrigerator both illuminating and cooling your bodies, empty ice cream tub beside you.

2:08 am, Chan carries you back to your bedroom. Not because you couldn’t walk still, but because he loved the feeling of you in his arms, head tucked safely into the crook of his neck.

2:09 am, you and Chan slip under the covers, and you giggle when he scolds you about kicking off the blanket in your sleep. You placate him with a kiss and a promise to keep him warm.

And at 2:16 am on a Sunday, after a couple more kisses and hushed sweet nothings, you end up with your ear pressed against Chan’s chest, the beating of his heart combined with his quiet breathing lulling you sleep.

Chan stays awake for a couple minutes more, ensuring you were comfortable and finally resting. He wraps his around you when you shift in your sleep, hand automatically cupping the back of your head. Keeping you close, right where his heart was. He knew you weren’t going anywhere, but every second with you was something he knew he had to treasure.

“Y/N,” he sighed, burying his face in your hair. “I love you. So much. Too much, I think. Sometimes I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” he pauses, swallowing. “Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you? At this point, I want to grab every person in the street and list out all the reasons why.”

He snorts at the mental image, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “That sounds a bit crazy, isn’t it? I have an infinite number of reasons… so if I do that to every single person, how long would that take me? Huh. Should I really do the math on that?” he pauses, then: “God, even in your sleep you’re driving me crazy.”

You murmur something in your sleep, catching his attention. You were mumbling nonsense, but when his hand cups your cheek, you quiet down.

Smiling wistfully, he adds, “but... I don’t care. Really, Y/N, I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.”

Pressing one last kiss to your forehead, Chan finally gets comfortable and closes his eyes.

He’s much more vulnerable when he knows you’re asleep because he’d be too flustered if you replied, but the responding snore you give him a few seconds later makes him laugh again. Maybe you were unconsciously trying to respond to him, maybe you were just really deep in dreamland.

Either way, Chan falls asleep with a smile on his face, and the love of his life in his arms.

Sunday, 12:47 pm.

The brunch Chan had promised turns into a late lunch, because by the time you both woke up the next-- the same?-- day, it was already quarter past noon.

True to your predictions last night, you were sore. Chan runs you a hot bath, genuinely looking worried now, but you assure him that it wasn’t something that a few painkillers couldn’t fix. But he still looked uneasy, so you raised an eyebrow.

“What, you’re gonna regret the way you fucked me until I cried?”

Chan turns as red as a tomato, and you laugh as he spins on his heel and leaves you in the bathroom, shouting something about getting the medicine.

It did hurt, but you kind of liked it, considering the reason why you were sore. Chan frowns and questions why you were red in the face when he gets back, worried you were getting a fever, but you just flush even more and shoo him away.

When you get out of the bath, the first thing that greets you is the smell of chicken. Chan must have ordered while you bathed, and your heart warms at the thought of your boyfriend remembering your hunger and craving for chicken.

That is, until you find Chan on the couch already munching on a drumstick. He looks up at you in alarm when you walk in, face guilty.

“God, you’re insatiable.” You mock with your best impression of Chan’s voice, and the attempt makes him laugh too much to be mad about it.

You gorge yourselves on chicken and soda, some reruns of an anime you both love playing on the TV. You’re barely paying attention, more focused on the fan you had turned on blowing cool air on your face and the feeling of Chan massaging your feet.

You don’t even notice that you drifted off, jolting awake to the sound of an explosion coming from the TV. You must have been asleep for a while, because the table was clear of any takeout boxes and soda cans. At that moment, Chan comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He smiles when he sees you squinting at him, disoriented and half awake.

“Come on, baby. Time to get groceries.”

You didn’t bother to dress up much, considering it was hot out and you were not about to put fashion first and experience a possible heat stroke. So you steal another one of Chan’s shirts, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

He had plenty of other shirts. He could use those.

Chan gives you a look when you come bounding out of the bedroom in his shirt, but you knew he liked his clothes on you. The pink tinging his cheeks was more than enough proof. Plus, you had a diversion.

“Help me?” You ask, and Chan tilts his head, confused. But then you bring out a box, velvet and rectangular and blue.

It was the box that holds the necklace Chan gifted you for your birthday, and considering your profession, you couldn’t wear it everyday, hating the thought of it being drenched in sweat or god forbid, breaking while you dance.

So you wear it on your off days, keeping it in the box most of the time to be safe. Chan chuckles, smiling stupidly as he takes the necklace out the box, snorting when you scold him to be careful with it.

“Alright, alright. Just turn around, will you?” You huff, but turn around obediently, moving your hair away so Chan could do it easily. The cool metal of the necklace settling against your neck has you shivering, but so does the soft kiss that Chan presses on your exposed nape and shoulder. The pendant— a compass— sits between your collarbones, and you hold it between your fingers gently, feeling giddy.

Chan watches you with a soft smile for a few seconds, taking you in. It’s only when he notices the time that he regretfully bursts your bubble, grabbing your attention with a kiss to your cheek and taking your free hand in his.

“Ready?” he asks, eyes shining, and your heart flutters.

“Yeah.” You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.”

And though your diversion had worked for a moment, you knew yourself that it wouldn’t last. Chan still complains as you walk down the street, intertwined hands swinging between you, talking about how he had nothing to wear.

“You should just walk around shirtless then.” You suggest, winking, and you barely manage to stop an embarrassing shriek when Chan pretends to trip you. There was no way you were going to fall though, because Chan had a tight grip on your arms, but you still punch him on the shoulder for it.

Chan reacts dramatically, exaggerating his yelp of pain, as if he didn’t have hard muscle surrounding his entire body. You roll your eyes, leaving him on the sidewalk, ignoring his calls of your name mixed with his laughter.

You laugh and stumble on the way to the grocery store like idiots, and the time it took for you to get there probably took twice the time than it originally would, with how much you two were goofing off. But you do eventually get there in one piece, albeit breathless and giggly.

You guys had no specific routine for grocery shopping, just that there was a limit to snacks, and it was 5 for each of you. No more than that.

(This rule is usually never followed, but you guys keep it and remind each other of it at the entrance, just for the sake of acting like you were responsible adults who could control their cravings and knew how to stick to their budget.)

Thus, grocery shopping with you was always an experience, because you and Chan were both very passionate about food and would sometimes have different opinions. It would end in tiny fights, but it gets resolved just as quickly as it starts.

Either Chan relents because you looked cute and he secretly wants it, or you relent because Chan looked cute and you secretly want it.

So more often than not, other shoppers would find two people disputing in the middle of some aisle, and it’s just the two of you hissing back and forth about the pros and cons of a certain product.

Like now.

“We don’t eat that cereal. You don’t even like how it tastes.”

“You don’t like how it tastes. I ate the entire bag when we last bought this.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “And did you do that willingly?”

“Well, no, but-” You stomp your foot, frustrated. All the tantrum does is bring a smile to Chan’s face, which wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t being cute. You needed him to understand. “Ah, you know I don’t like wasting food!”

“So, why, pray tell, do you want to buy that?”

“Because-” you start, and Chan flicks his gaze down to the cereal in your hands, confused. But then you turn the box around and-

Ah.

“Look,” you point at the bowl stuck on the back of the box, grinning excitedly. “They have an ugly black cat now.”

Simply put, the box that you were holding was a brand of cereal that was for kids, and the taste of the actual cereal was too medicine-y for you and Chan. However, the sole reason you had bought one before is because of the freebie the cereal came with, a small plastic bowl with a white cat painted on it.

To be honest, the cat was kind of ugly and terrifying looking, but you were drawn to it for inexplicable reasons. Chan, who was unknowing of the taste of the cereal at that time, simply nodded and let you take the box home.

The cereal itself was crossed out from the very first taste, but you’ve both grown fond of the ugly white cat bowl, sometimes using it for non-cereal things.

(Like wine, after a long, long day at work. It typically consists of the bowl being passed back and forth between you two, instead of just chugging the entire bottle down like animals. You both had too much class for that.)

Chan sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. But your excitement was infectious, and he finds himself smiling at the ugly little thing too.

Still, he tries to be the responsible adult and reasons, “you’re already 3 snacks past the limit. Plus, don’t we already have a bowl at home?”

“I know we do! But look at this black cat, Channie. Ugly White Cat can get a friend, plus if we get another bowl, that means we can match. Matching ugly cat bowls.” You explain, holding the box up to his face and wiggling it. “Think about it.”

And Chan did think about it for a moment. You really didn’t need another bowl, having plenty enough for the two of you and possible guests, but the prospect of matching with you…

And ugly white cat did look kind of lonely...

Fuck. He was getting too weak for this. You look at him with wide eyes, pleading and seemingly innocent, but you knew what effect that had on him.

He sighs, but there’s a smile on his face when he grumbles. “Fine.”

You cheer, pressing a long kiss to his cheek before you scramble away again, mentioning something about juice boxes.

Chan watches you skip down the aisle, grinning at the way your arms clutched the cereal box close to your chest, as if someone was going to take it away from you. He watches until you reach the end, crouching down at the selection of juice boxes.

He knew you took your juice box selection very seriously, evident in the way you were frowning and reading label packages. You looked kind of ridiculous, Chan’s old shirt bunched around your waist and a cereal box with some toy for kids tucked in your arms.

His shirt, which was entirely too big for you, starts sliding down your shoulders due to your crouched position. This reveals your neck, and he flushes when he sees memories of last night blooming on your skin.

And even from this distance, he sees the necklace and the way it glints, making you look much more ethereal.

After a few seconds, you apparently read something you didn’t like, because your head snaps up suddenly, catching Chan’s attention just so you could point at a box and make a disgusted face.

Chan laughs, despite not knowing what the hell you just pointed to. But you seem to be satisfied by his response, because you grace him with the prettiest smile, the one that he loved among your many other smiles— the one that makes your eyes crinkle and your cheeks bigger.

Chan’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. Something in his heart sings.

He loves you. He was so in love with you that it hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side. To sleep with you, wake up with you, argue about groceries in pajamas with you, have matching ugly cat bowls with you, and come home with you— all of that. Always.

So when you turn back to your juice boxes, Chan hurriedly pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list quickly and tapping the call button on a familiar name.

Chan and you meet eyes again when you hold up two juice boxes of different flavors for him to pick. He knows immediately that you picked the orange one because he likes it, but Chan also knows that you couldn’t stand the orange flavor. So he tilts his head to the right, choosing apple.

You blink in surprise, but he could tell you were trying to hide the fact that you were giddy he picked apple. He smiles softly, heart singing again.

On his phone, the call he made finally picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey, Bin? You busy? No, no, we’re fine. Yeah, I just-- remember the jewellery shop we went to last month? Do you still have their address? Yeah, that one. I threw mine out because I didn’t want Y/N to suspect anything.”

A pause, then he snorts, “I’m aware I just bought her a necklace, yes. But I’m not buying a necklace this time. Really. Yeah, um. Well, I think I—“ Chan swallows, eyes nervously going back to you.

You had both the cereal and juice box in your arms now, seemingly on your way back to Chan, but then you get distracted by free samples of cheese. You pretend to reject the offer for a moment, but falter in your step when the saleslady tries again. Chan snorts softly when you take five samples unashamedly, heart singing louder.

Will you wait for me? / Of course. You know I always will.

You were the only one who ever made him feel like this.

Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you?

I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.

Your eyes meet again. You’ve balanced the plate of cheese on top of your boxes, face looking all too proud and excited as you gestured to the cheese, beckoning him over. He nods, indicating he’ll be there, and you go back to talking animatedly with the saleslady.

“Hyung?” Changbin’s voice on the other line calls, waiting for him to continue. “You think...?��

“Ah, no… I’m sure.” Chan smiles giddily, heart now creating symphonies in his chest. He’s never been more sure in his life.

All of this. Always.

“A ring. I’m buying a ring.”

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #storiesatsea #me: scared of commitment #also me: indicates a wedding in 2/4 of my fics #chan i have feelings for u #stray kids #bang chan as a boyfriend #stray kids as boyfriends #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #skz au #skz imagines

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

So my finger is actually broken and it made me think about the series where Remus took a stick to the face and Sirius took care of him if you’re willing to do another part to that so I can live vicariously that’d be great

Hey lovely! I’m so sorry for the massive delay on this fic--hopefully, your finger feels better soon <3 Coops and O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

This fic also includes Cap and Logan being brothers, O’Knutzy fluff, and my personal favorite ask of all time:

Anon: We have seen protective Leo in action and he is an absolute badass, but what about the other 2/3 of O’Knutzy. Because gods know they would all protect their fairy gay mother if anyone were to mess with him in the slightest

TW for bruising, swelling, injury

Read the rest of the series here!

“Where is he?” Leo demanded as soon as the door opened. His mother would have been appalled by his lack of manners, but he was too worried to bother with pleasantries. “Is he alright?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Hello to you, too, Knut. Harzy, Lo, how’s it going?”

“Depends,” Finn said. “How’s our favorite rookie doing?”

Logan took a more direct approach and kicked Sirius lightly on the shin. “Move, I want to see my future beau-frère.”

“Are they here?” a rough voice called from the living room.

“Don’t get up, Loops!” Leo shouted down the hall, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Are you feeling okay?”

There was a muffled curse from the other room, followed by footsteps; Leo scowled. “I’m not made of glass,” Remus huffed as he shuffled into the room with an ice pack in his hand.

All three of them hissed in sympathy and Leo felt phantom pain in his nose at the wide bruise across Remus’ cheekbones. “You should go lay down again, dude.”

“You made me soup?”

“You can only have it if you promise to rest.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“Your face looks like someone biked over it.”

“Rude. I’ll call your mother.”

“You don’t have her number.”

Remus shot him a look and turned to the others, who were watching in clear amusement. “Tremzy, a hand?”

“Can’t tell you. I want soup.” Logan ruffled his hair as he walked past; Remus batted him away, but he was smiling. It was even more crooked than usual with the latent swelling, and Leo felt a pang in his chest when he noticed the missing dimples. He looked so…not Loops. “Où sont les casseroles?”

Finn frowned and glanced in the Tupperware. “That’s not casserole, Lo.”

Sirius reached up and pulled a large pot down from the cupboard. “Pots, Harz. You’ve been dating these two for almost a year and you still don’t know French?”

Finn hopped up on the counter. “Keeps things interesting.”

Leo blew him a kiss and received a wink in return, making them both laugh. “Thanks again for bringing this over,” Remus said as Leo turned the stove on and grabbed a wooden spoon.

“Anything for the rookie, right? You look better than last night.”

“Yeah?” Hope lit in Remus’ less-swollen eye; he was still bruised to hell and back, but the puffiness had gone own significantly and a good night’s sleep seemed to have done him good.

“No thanks to the captain,” Finn snorted, swinging his legs until Sirius whacked him on the thigh with a spoon. “I swear to god he was just fucking with us in the groupchat.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“I told the truth!” Sirius protested. “I don’t know why they’re all pissy.”

“You were so vague,” Logan groaned. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the texts, then cleared his throat. “Home safe. Re is fine—"

“Get over here—”

“—getting lots of cuddles from Hattie,” Logan continued, ducking out of Sirius’ reach as he read aloud. Leo stepped closer to the stove to let them both run past. “Thanks for the messages. Thanks for the messages? Thanks for the fucking messages?”

“That was pretty vague,” Remus agreed, hiding a smile behind his hand when Sirius finally snatched Logan’s phone away.

“I’m keeping this,” he threatened. “And I sent messages to people who reached out individually with questions, including your boyfriend.”

“Which one?” Logan asked with a smirk.

Sirius shook his head. “Knutty, will you be offended if I kick him out of the house?”

“Eh.” Leo shrugged, still stirring. “He could use some fresh air. Maybe put a bowl of water out with him.”

Logan grabbed a towel and rolled it up, snapping it at Leo’s ass; it connected with a sharp smack and he dodged the second attack by less than an inch. “Hey, cut it out!” Remus laughed. “He’s making me soup!”

“Yeah, Lo, we don’t want to leave the invalid in the hands of Cap’s cooking,” Finn drawled.

Sirius heaved a sigh. “You are all so mean to me.”

“I love you!” Remus said, putting a hand over his heart in mock-offense.

“You don’t trust my cooking either.”

He hesitated for half a second and Sirius spread his hands. “I trust most of your cooking. And all of your baking.”

Leo perked up. “Will you make cookies for us?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he wheedled as bubbles began forming around the edges of the soup. “You know you want to.”

“He made some for the block party two weeks ago,” Remus said with a grin, leaning over to smell the thick steam. “I’m domesticating him.”

“He’s like a feral cat. Once you let him in and feed him, he starts making cookies and never leaves.” Logan slotted himself between Finn’s knees for a cuddle with a devious glance at Sirius.

“I regret knowing you,” Sirius muttered; the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, and Leo smiled to himself as he pulled a few bowls out of the nearest cabinet. “Soup’s ready?”

“Soup’s ready. Where are we eating?”

“Well, Loops is eating on the couch so he can rest,” Logan said, ignoring Remus’ eye roll.

“I’m fine.” All four of them gave him a skeptical look and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Alright, we’ll eat in the living room and pretend I’m on my deathbed. Jesus Christ.”

Leo gave him a playful nudge as he handed him a bowl. “That’s what friends do, right?”

Remus’ face softened and he bumped him back. “This was really sweet of you, Knutty.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you here alone with only your fiancé and your dog for company?” He looked behind the kitchen island and paused. “Speaking of, where’s my baby?”

“I’ll get her.” Sirius wandered out of the room and they heard the back door open a moment later; after a few seconds of muffled noise, Hattie came barreling into the room in all her long-legged glory. One side of her fur was mussed into bedhead, but Finn dropped down and immediately smoothed it out again as he smothered her with affection.

“Oh, was somebody taking a nap on the deck?” Remus cooed, grabbing a handful of spoons from a drawer.

“I missed you so much!” Finn said, laughing as she licked his face. “So much, precious girl! It’s been too long!”

Hattie wiggled out of his hold and galloped toward Leo—she tripped over her too-big paws and rolled to a stop at his feet with a lolling tongue. “Oh, my munchkin,” he groaned, lifting her into a cradle hold. “Do you think your dads would be sad if I took you home with me?”

“Yes,” Sirius and Remus chorused.

“But I made them soup!” He stuck his lower lip out in a pout and held her closer to his chest. “It’s only fair.”

Logan turned a pleading look on Sirius. “You can’t say no to that face, can you?”

“Someday, you can have a sleepover. For right now, we’re going to eat soup and then make Remus take a nap.”

Leo declined to mention the fact that he had not answered the question and filed that particular information away for later use. For all his bluster and grumbling, Sirius was a softie for puppy eyes of any sort.

They gathered in the living room and carefully balanced their bowls so nobody spilled on the carpet. Remus curled up to make space for Sirius on the couch, while Logan perched on the armrest of Leo’s chair and Finn took the floor; Hattie made the rounds with a roving nose and tried to steal bites wherever possible, to little avail.

“This is really good,” Sirius said after a few minutes of hungry silence, shoving another spoonful of broth in his mouth. “Mon dieu, what is this?”

“Italian wedding soup,” Leo said, breaking a meatball in half. “Mom’s recipe.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not Italian.”

“Not even a little.”

“You guys are the best, by the way,” Remus said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“We would’ve beat the rookie up if you asked,” Finn informed him with a casual bite of soup. “Say the word, it’s done.”

Remus shook his head. “It was an accident. He tripped, I came up too fast, and it snowballed from there. Kid’s lucky he didn’t get a skate to the face when we fell.”

Logan blinked at him for a second. “You’ve seen your face recently, right?”

“No, actually, it’s a bit difficult to see my own face,” Remus said drily. “I’m sure it looks worse than it feels.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but made no comment. Leo wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know that story or not; seeing Loops in any amount of pain was hard enough. “Kind of ironic, right?” he said instead. “After all that time spent fixing us, you’re the one we get to take care of.”

Remus snorted. “How the turntables. Hestia did all the heavy lifting.”

“That Tupperware was heavy.”

“Do you want to tape me back together next time?”

“Don’t try me, Loops, I’ll do it and give you a moustache.”

They bickered and teased for the next half hour, long after their bowls were empty and Hattie laid down with a dramatic huff after her unsuccessful quest. Finally, Remus dozed off on Sirius’ shoulder, which they took as their cue to leave.

“Thank you again, guys,” Sirius said as they pulled their coats on. “This really meant a lot to both of us.”

“No problem,” Finn said with a shrug. “We were worried, and bringing over a little soup was easy.”

“It was good to talk to you both outside of practice,” Logan added, giving him a one-armed hug. “Keep us updated?”

“Bien sûr.”

“See you around, Capsicle.” Leo mock-saluted and Sirius laughed under his breath. “Take care of our rookie.”

“Will do, Knutty.”

Leo maneuvered his container around his seatbelt as Finn turned the car on, trying not to lose another lid down the crack between the console. “I’m glad we did that,” he said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Me, too. Loops still looked pretty rough, though,” Logan said quietly.

The side of Finn’s mouth turned down a tick. “Next time we play the Ravens, that rookie is getting checked like he’s never been checked before.”

Leo’s back cracked as he stretched his arms over his head. “Oh, yeah, Kasey and I already have a plan. That kid is never even going to see the net.”

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americancowgirl19 · 4 years ago

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Babysitter

Summary: Peter gets stuck with babysitting.

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Peter Parker, Annie - Little Cousin, Aunt May, Happy, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1,318

A/n: This was an anonymous ask - Hey i was wondering i would like to request peter parker having a 6 years old baby cousin (may and ben's daughter) and she knows about him being spiderman. She meets the avengers. - I’m gonna make Peter a little older. He’s about 19 and is in college but still lives with Aunt May. He’s just rarely home between school, friends and the Avengers. I also named the cousin Annie because I looked up Peter’s family tree and Uncle Ben’s mother was Ann so I went with it... I hope I did good, I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

“Aunt May,” Peter whines, following her into the kitchen. “I have the be with the Avengers in an hour, I can’t stay here and babysit,”

“Peter, you told me you would babysit today. I have to work and the regular babysitter is out of town until next week,” May tells him.

“Aunt May,” Peter groans. She sighs turning to him.

“Why don’t you just take her with you?” She suggests. Peter raises an eyebrow at her.

“Take her with me?”

“Yeah, she loves Spiderman. It’ll be perfect,” Aunt May smiles slipping on her jacket.

“I can’t just take her with me,” Peter argues.

“Why not?” Aunt May asks, slipping her shoes on.

“It’s work, Aunt May. It’s serious stuff, dangerous superhero stuff... No place for a 6 year-old,” Peter shakes his head, crossing his arms.

“Oh, that’s funny because I texted Happy and asked him if it would be ok for you to take her and he says it’s fine,” Aunt May grins. “In fact, Tony’s pretty excited to see her”

“You talked to Mr. Stark?” Peter’s jaw drops. “Aunt May, when I go to the Avengers I’m Spiderman, I’m Mr. Starks righthand man. I can’t do what I have to do and watch Annie,”

“Peter, you’re just going over there to try on new suits,” May tells him. “Maybe sit through a meeting, I don’t know,” She shrugs. “But it’s not like you’re taking her on a mission. Now, I know you want to seem cool and all that in front of the big boys,” Aunt May says causing Peter to whine and rub his face. “But you’re taking her. Now, I have to run, do not lose her,” She says pointing at him.

“That was one time and I found her,” Peter shouts after her.

“Say hi to Happy for me,” Aunt May shouts back.

“Ew, no,” Peter cringes. Aunt May blows him a kiss and walks out the door. Peter groans leaning against the wall, banging his head back.

Normally, he loves spending time with Annie. She’s his favorite person. He’s taken her swinging through the city every time she asks because he simply cannot say no to her face.

However, taking her to the Avengers facility is something else. Ever since Mr. Stark brought him in to help out a couple of years ago he’s been trying to prove that he’s a worthy Avenger. He wants the others to take him seriously.

Bringing his little cousin with him and running after her whenever she gets into things that she’s not supposed to will only restart the teasing period. Not that he ever got out of the teasing period but he didn’t want to give them new material to work with.

“I can stay here, Petey,” Annie whispers, peaking out from around the corner. Peter’s eyes snap open and he looks at her. His heart breaks at the pout on her lips. “I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” Peter sighs.

Peter smiles, walking over to her. She looks down at her feet, fidgeting with her hands. Peter kneels in front of her and brushes some hair off her shoulder.

“Have you gotten taller since I last saw you?” Peter asks. She glances up at him.

“You saw me yesterday,” She reminds him.

“And I swear you grew an entire foot taller,” Peter shakes his head in amazement. “If you don’t slow down you’re gonna be taller than me tomorrow,” He says, poking her stomach. She smiles but tries to hold it back. “You are 100% a big girl,” He agrees with her. “Just because you can look after yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” He tells her. “Now, if you want you can stay here by yourself and be bored or you can come with me and meet some Avengers,”

“Can I meet Capin Merica?” She asks, slyly looking at him.

“I’m sure I can arrange a meeting... Maybe over some lunch?” Annie slowly begins to nod, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” Peter pouts causing Annie to grin even more.

“It’s ok, you can make it up to me with some ice cream,” Annie assures him. Peter grins, laughing a bit.

“Oh, is that right?” He asks, and she nods sticking her chin up. Peter smirk scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. She giggles as he tosses her in the air and catches her. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Stark has some ice cream we can snag,” He promises.

“Why don’t you go get ready? We’ll leave in a couple minutes,”

“Ok!” Annie shouts racing to her room. By the time she was ready, Happy was there to pick them up. Peter had gone to sit up front with him when Annie slipped in first. “Thank you for opening the door, Petey,” Annie grins, clicking her seatbelt in. Peter’s mouth drops as he looks at Happy who just shrug.

“She’ll be alright,” Happy promises. Peter groans, closing the door and climbing into the back. Happy closes the divider preventing him from seeing up front. Peter pouts but grins a bit when he hears Annie giggling.

It didn’t take them too long to reach the facility. Peter jumped out of the car to race after a speeding Annie. He grabs her hand before she can get through the door.

“Don’t run away, Annie,” Peter scolds. “I’m supposed to be watching you,”

“I wanna meet Capin Merica!” Annie shouts.

“And your wish is my command,” Tony says, walking up to him with Steve Rogers beside him. Annie’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. Peter watches her expression and grins.

“You look just like my action figure,” She whispers. “But you’re bigger,” She admits. Steve smiles, kneeling in front of her.

“Introduce yourself,” Peter whispers, nudging her.

“Hi! I’m Annie Parker,” She basically shouts. Her hand shoots out for him to take.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Annie, I’m Steve,” He says shaking her hand.

“Cap here is gonna show you around,” Tony say clapping Steve on the back when he stands back up. Annie slowly gasps. “I’m gonna steal your cousin for a little bit,”

“Ok,” Annie shrugs leaving Peter for Steve.

“No loyalty,” Peter shakes his head watching Annie willingly walk off with Steve.

“Tell me about it, who chooses Captain America when you have Ironman?” Tony scoffs. “It’s gotta be the blond hair,”

“I think you’re perfect, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him.

“I thought we were past the whole you kissing my ass stage?” Tony asks. Peter struggles to figure out what to say next. “Never mind, I’ve got you a new suit,”

Peter wanders off with him hoping that Steve doesn’t loose Annie or else he’ll never hear the end of it from Aunt May. He stayed with Tony for a couple of hours before they hunted Steve and Annie down.

They found them in the common room with some of the other Avengers. At the moment Annie was with Natasha. Natasha was whispering secrets to Annie, most likely ways to get into trouble but get away with it. Annie was soaking every work up with a mischievous grin.

Bruce sat next to her, grinning and shaking his head. Annie was sitting in his lap but was also completely ignoring him in favor of Natasha. Steve seemed to be finishing up a bowl of ice cream on the opposite couch. When Peter looked back at Annie he noticed leftover ice cream smears on her cheek.

“Hi, Petey!” Annie shouts waving at him.

“Hi, Annie,” He waves back.

“Do we have to leave?” She pouts.

“No, we can stay a little longer,” He promises her. Her face lights up and she instantly goes back to whispering with Natasha.

“She’ll be our little spy in no time,” Tony comments.

“Aunt May’s gonna have a heart attack,” Peter mutters.

#Peter Parker #Marvel #Aunt May #Spiderman #Captain America #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Bruce Banner #Natasha Romanoff #Peter #One Shot #Fanfiction #Fanfic #MCU #Request #Babysitter

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

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𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

Author note: Mention of drugs, sickness and blood (if you're not comfortable with it don't read it) . It mighty be heart warming fluffyyyyyy.

You're his kitten. No matter the consequences you're. Cause even in his anger sometimes (which's rare and it's on the silly go-to's) he still sticks to that pet name because he met you like that under the bus stop's shelter in a heavy rain offered you an umbrella (while you were huffing and puffing like a kitten annoyed with the weather), walked you home, had a tea with you and some chocolate chip cookies. Been bestfriends from that year and there isn't a red light to your guys wild adventures—but he's been having a rough time recently. Had a cruel heart shattering breakup from a relationship that he thought was a never ending dream (she brought him happiness in a weird way he couldn't put into words) indeed it tightened your chest but his happiness's most important to you. To overcome it he's been scribbling notebooks over notebooks with lyrics that screams he miss her and the sex for the most part of it. It breaks your heart.

He's usually the one to melt all over you, give you forehead kisses, cuddles you when your periods are the bitchiest, makes you brekkie if he stays a night, runs you a bath and sometimes brings you pomegranate berried candles (he lies that he got them as a gift, he's one hell of a liar). He takes care of you with so much gentleness and helps you with study after wiping your tears and reassuring you telling you how proud he's of you. It made you guilty sometimes 'cos if you'd be in camille's place. . .you'd never be able not to get jealous. She was cool with it. Fills you with another curiosity that maybe she treated it like a fling.

He was devastated. Knocking on your door feebly. Then the moment your small confused body was under his weary gaze, boom!! It crashed upon him like a pitch storm and he fell to his knees tucking his head in your armpit crying his heart out. At that moment you felt his pain radiating to you and twisting your own stomach with a dagger, it was insufferable. He gave out no-deep scrapes but not to freak your bones muttered that he lost her. Eventually his bottled up emotions seeped into hues infront of you by passing week and to your littlest of information you got to know that they didn't ended up well in some perspectives so their relationship turned out to be a downfall. So As, you do with your girlie best-friend when she have a breakup you did it with Harry too. It didn't included feral clubbing (you left that part to his mates) but watching sappy movies that could fill your ice-cream bucket once you eat it whole, doing homemade face masks, playing drunk uno and knocking on your neighbours door to run way at last, dragging his arse to museum and in all of this you ended up convincing him to adopt a kitty (she lives with you thou).

The roles have been reversed completely!

He's been living at your flat for five weeks now. It's fading his usual cheekiness and the itch to annoy you every second he gets. Instead, it's just eating, spending bits of hours with you, going out with his mates and coming back to crash at your couch padding in your room in the wee of night demanding a warm coddle from you and that his back hurts from the cruelty of that single spring popping from the leather, staying with him when he'd wrench his stomach out in the morning. He's sensitive. His heart's soft that's one of the reason he gets hurt real quick, you admire that about him and reminds him that it's one of his qualities you're totally in love with. You're gentle with him. Giving him space and time to recover. Going with him at his friend's birthday little get together not drinking at all knowing one would have to stay sober as he chugged red wine staining his hawain shirt and when he clumsily poked his pink tongue out lazily to reach for the cigarette in her hand you tugged him back into you before he'd burn his tongue with sparkles announcing it's time to head back home and he'd be a pain in arse (a beautiful one though because his antics makes you all mushy) when he pretended to steal sandwiches from the table hiding them under his shirt saying that "'m pregnant with twins and it's hard to carry them" while you dragged him outside making him wear his coat like a stubborn toddler. Making him cupcakes sometimes, playing with his fluff of curls while he reads the book she gave him. It hurts. But, it subsides down with his single amiable glance that tells you he needs you. He always had. He always will. You give him extra forehead kisses and pecks on cheek while leaving for UNI, because it's irresistible to give dust to his pouty sulk.

It's seven in the morning when he tumbled through your door (has a key, you even brought his clothes and toothbrush from his house—he even uses your strawberry scented shampoo and body wash) his nose tip blushed matching his cheeks, eyes pooling with haze and hair poking in every direction. You were studying for a class you've in an hour. When you saw his irirses blown out you arched your brow putting the cup down beside your thick book, to mingle his sadness he's experimenting different fun wild things (told you bout it and you even called Mitch to take care of him).

"How many am I, pet?" You asked walking towards him seeing him struggle to get out of his vans and your giggles echoed into coldness when he peers down at your crouched state with his gold fish-y eyes, "dunno. . . but ye'r seem like. .like a-a sunflower floatin' in me head." His lips molding around his each word agonisingly slow drawl and his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You need rest, bambi." You got him out of his jeans and socks knowing he despises to sleep with layers on. "I'll be back with you in some hours. Hmm? Then we'll snuggle into blankets, you me and. . .salsa the pussy cat." You have to control your laugh everytime you take the kitty's name (Harry's worst at giving names you were horrified when he once joked that he loves chelsea boots so much he could name his daughter Chelsea) He whines at that nodding his head but not loosening his grip from around your wrist while you tucked him under your baby green patch work quilt. It's like his brain and heart can't decide how to choose.

On your way back you got Jeff's call asking why Harry isn't picking his phone his own voice resembling that of Harry's and you know he'd be looking shit at the time. Harry was still snoring out like a bulb in bright day on his tummy and you shook him gently at first but when he didn't woke up you had to be a bit harsher. "Harry wake up pet. . . Jeff's been calling ye for since." But, not even a hum in response so you placed your finger under his nose checking if he's even alive. Gratefully he was just sleeping like a literal corpse (he argues that he isn't that bad of a sleeper but in fact he is. Everything around him would burn down and he wouldn't even change a side).

It was seven in the evening when you were preparing for dinner when he woke up grumpy. His nose scrunched up, lips quirked up as if he tasted something yucky and his gait jello. You eyed him quietly even when he came in kitchen to drink water.

"Jeff was callin'. . ." You quipped stirring the veggies before pouring soup into a bowl and sliding it his way on the counter, "I know bombarded me phone with calls—" He gruffed spooning a mouthful and you flinched when he tried to cool it inside his mouth with "hawahhoohaha" little sounds (he knew it was hot, he's just an impatient leech).

"Stop being a gremlin. He told me ye' aren't writing, leaving everything like a cliffhanger neither you're attending the meetings he calls you at. . . I think you're done with your mourning it's time to do what you actually love and is there for you. Your music." You frown seriously trying to put some senses into his forever high brain. He drops the spoon back and dips his brows frustratedly, pinching his eyes shut.

"Fuckin' hell. Stop being my mama!" It's not the first time you guys are arguing and you're not gonna take it to heart. You stood up towering him and jabbing your finger to his chest, "you better stop filling your system with drugs before eighteen year olds come to you thinking you're a drug dealer—" He snickers at that a total mocking one (you know he's doing nothing hard it's just shrooms in the safe environment otherwise you'd have never never allowed him) but still you had to bring him back to his line so it was necessary. "Piss off." He mutters still slurping on his soup and you left him there with a loud smack on his head, "Wanker."

You care about him. Always did. Always will. He's the love of your life. Even your love has nourishment of just water and lacks sunshine from your sun it's still there into existence, how could you see him like this? Wasting his precious time and energy. It's impossible.

All you heard before going to deep slumber was the tinsy creak of your main door after that it was silent and darkness until now your phone buzzed under your pillow resonating Niall's tired words. You were a wreck havoc fumbling for your coat and wallet, covering pathway to tube with shivering legs hallucinating that everyone's eyeing your fiddly self with judgemental stare even though there're few.

You rushed to Niall's doorsteps knocking like a maniac, "where's he? Is he okay? told ye—" You pushed him aside marching inside to look for him. "He looked fine, he's a strong guy y/n they took him to hospital." You snaps your neck raising your brows.

"What the fuck, d'ya mean hospital!?" Your heart hammering in her ribcage overthinking the worst scenarios. "Take me there. right. fuckin' now." You tell him firmly not caring even if he's high too. Niall leads you to his car heating it up in the first beat taking glances of your petite body leaning against the glass with lips sucked in, eyes watered and legs constantly on bounce so placed his hand atop your knee giving you reassuring squeeze and a genial smile.

Your pink cheeks warming up with the heat of hospital radiating your way and loud growl left your chest when your blurry vision cleared to the sight of dishelved Harry sitting on the bench outside of ER, his irirses weary, mouth stuffed with cotton and has few scratches of rashes on his elbows otherwise he's fine. With each step of yours towards him something kept breaking inside you like you're walking on the nails and it's ripping you raw. He raised his head timidly hearing footsteps and when his eyes fell over your worried state panic flashed over his features and his only gaze turned you a puddling emitting heavy sobs within you before reaching towards him. The reality of situation dawning upon you because from what Niall told you in the car that they were high trying to have some fun, drove around neighbour hood and Harry jumped out of the window and bit his tongue between his teeth resulting in heavy bleeding a deep gnash (the fuckin' dumbstick he is).

"I hate you. I hate you so fuckin' much! you bastard." You tried to shout at him but the voice that came out of your mouth was that of mice as you threw harsh blows at his chest, bottom lip jutting wet and salty tears tricking down. He wraps his hand around your wrists ushering you closer down to his chest speaking muffled, "'orry." causing you to grunt angrily into the crook of his neck.

"Sorry my ass!" When you tried to pull back he tightened his hold round your neck snuggling you warmly to him with a hum. Jeff came back with medicines and when he parted his lips to speak in his defence you ignored him wiping your tears with the heel of your palms muttering a, "I hate you guys." The drive back was silent and the walk to your flat too, you passed by him to lock yourself into your room (you wouldn't because of the fact you wouldn't be able to sleep if not sure he's okay few feets away from you). When Harry attempted to roll his tongue to make some words nothing came out but a hiss making you spin, "'s okay we'll speak in the mornin'." Saying this you headed to bed and when you were bout to turn the lamp off he was lurking at the foot of your bed with a pillow in his arms smushing his face into it and squeezing it close to his chest gesticulating you that he wants a cuddle.

"Only 'cos y're adorable." You muttered moving your bum to make space for him suppressing your cooe when he grinned showing nothing but snow cotton, fuckin' hell being this cute should be illegal! He snapped his finger to call Salsa and she instantly galloped to shrink into his side while you spooned him. You woke up to the running tap and the time you were stretching under your quilt with yawns he padded out looking healed than last night.

He got a little lisp as he spoke, "can we talk?" You nodded knuckling at your sticky eyes criss-crossing your legs. "'Forgive me kitten." He continues, "sorry fo' mistreatin' ye' last night." You shake your head not realizing tears are dropping down your collarbones.

"Please. . .I don't wanna be a party-pooper in your life. you can live your life to finest but not at the sake of your life Harry– and. . . and if you're trying to invade the feelin' of sadness with all of this I don't approve it. What bout me? dunno what'll do if somethin' will happen to you, pet. S'not fair to me. is it? Just. . . love y—" your confessions cameflouging with sobs.

"Oh baby. ." He immediately cradled you in his embrace trying to soothe you with 'sorrys' and 'I'll never do somethin' like that again, promise'. Smooching slobery kisses all over your face and when you gazed up at him attracting him closer to your clean warm features all he did was peck the corner of your lips tenderly pulling away to pat your hair with a sigh.

"So. . .ye' love me." He teased you and you rolled your eyes grabbing his chin with your fingers, "show me your tongue." biting down your laugh when he retorted misheviously, "hmm. Wanna kiss it better?" Blowing him off with a remark that he's an utter pervert hiding the fact it splashed crimson to your neck.

"Mind makin' me poor self some brekkie?" He pouts and you giggled pecking the corner of his burgundy lips getting a timid smile in return, "in trade of?" He hip-checked you straddling Salsa over his shoulder and grabbing her little paws to expertise her in some dancey-dance moves.

"Mind bloggin' orgasm–ique dinner." He cackled loudly at the end when you shook your head in fake disappointment at him and he clinged by your side helping you to make some breakfast.

Think so you guys will figure it out.

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45percenterthen · 4 years ago

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merry christmas @rambleoncas from ur spn fam secret santa !! sending all the love to u, ely 🥰🎄 i’m SO sorry this is late, pls absolutely yell at me i’m the worst 🙃 had such a fun time writing this tho, hope u love it ! <33

In which Sam and Eileen are not the comedy duo they think they are, a new board game is invented, and Dean and Cas learn a valuable lesson about the perils of ice skating. (2.7k, minor angst followed by ridiculous festive fluff, read here on ao3)

As a child, Dean picked his scabs. Forever scratching at his knuckles, knees, the scarred backs of his elbows. The rhythmic scrape and peel of it. Absentminded in the backseat of the car, or sitting next to Sammy in whatever run-down motel of the week, one eye trained on the door. A life built on rituals and routine; Dean was bound to form some of his own.

There’d been this one vamp in Des Moines, back in ’93. Towering beast of a guy. Dean was pinned up against cold brick in a dimly-lit alley, something sharp digging into the back of his knees and something sharper rising in the back of his throat. Better Dean be bait, of course, than some random civilian. But Dad wasn’t there yet. The guy was at full-fang, teeth inching towards his neck, and Dean was casting silent prayers skyward that Dad had killed the rest of the nest by now, that he was on his way, that this was all still part of the plan.

The vamp had roughed him up a bit, but Dean had given as good as he got, punching and kicking and spitting and punching, smart mouth working overtime to distract from the trembling of his hands. And then, finally, seconds from the precipice: Dad was there. His blade sung as it sliced through the thing’s neck, spraying blood and bone and gristle. And Dean was saved. Dad had grinned, clapped a hand on his shoulder. You did well, son. And Dean had looked up at him from where he’d crumpled to the ground, as if he could float up from the gutter on just those words alone. Let his head tip back to hit brick, lip split, face cracked with blood and pride. In the car back to the motel he was glowing, the compliment sinking into split, aching flesh like a balm. His hands were still shaking, though. Dean had tucked them under his thighs so Dad wouldn’t notice.

He wore his scabbed knuckles like a badge of honour, scratching at the welts in neon-lit diners, reaching out occasionally for faux-attacks on Sam’s fries. He’d wanted it to scar. Wanted to peel away at ruined skin until his knuckles were pink-raw and silvery. A souvenir of a hunt well done, of Dad smiling at him like he’d done something right. Of the four people they’d saved from the nest. Dad’s words rattled around his hollow insides like he could live off them the next few weeks. Scrape. Peel.

Twenty-something years later and Dean hasn’t managed to shake the habit. But as he walks into the bunker’s library, surveys the scene like an audience member of his own life, Dean thinks he’s managed to break a lot – a lot – of others.

“Check it out, Sammy!” He shoves bloodied knuckles in Sam’s face, smiles at him through a mouthful of gingerbread. “Think it’ll scar?”

Sam’s next to Eileen at one of the tables, two slices of cake in front of them, the sound of It’s A Wonderful Life echoing from tinny laptop speakers. It’s balanced precariously on some dusty spell-books, just as a bowl of popcorn is suspended between the armrests of Sam and Eileen’s chairs. Dean’s been watching the politics of the bowl’s positioning with great amusement; Sam’s previous attempts to tilt it to his own side have resulted in glares of ranging affection (and one shoulder-punch) from Eileen. The bowl was swiftly returned to original formation.

At the sight of Dean’s hand, Sam’s face instantly wilts, recoiling like Dean’s smacked him with it. Eileen winces slightly, signs ‘you're such an idiot’, smiling around a mouthful of cake.

“God, Dean, we’re eating–”, Dean smirks harder, crumbs threatening to overspill. “–you’re so gross.” Sam cranes his neck to make eye contact with Cas across the room, shoots him a grin. “Besides – that’s what you get for taking Bambi out on the ice.”

Cas leans back in his chair, head tilted, eyes narrowed suspiciously. One of Dean’s old flannels rolled up to his elbows. He regards Sam like he’s practicing spontaneous human combustion via telepathy.

“I have very little in common with an animated deer, Sam.”

“Only the coordination issues,” Claire chips in from opposite Cas.

“Whose side are you on?” She smiles sweetly at him.

Dean steals a piece of Sam’s popcorn (“other hand, dude!”) just to throw it at him. Waits till the Sasquatch’s eyes are fixed back on the movie, then signs ‘dork’ at Eileen, gesturing to Sam with comically-wide eyes.

She laughs. “Absolutely.”

Engrossed in the film, Sam loops an arm around the back of her chair, oblivious, and Dean walks back across the room, gingerbread in hand. Cas is sitting at the next table along from Sam-and-Eileen, settling back into observing – what appears to be – an incredibly heated game of UNO. Dean’s not sure it is UNO, actually, he’s certain he saw some playing cards caught in the fray. Monopoly cards too? Dean makes a mental note to start paying more attention to the quality of his thrift-store-finds. Regardless, Claire seems to have manoeuvred the situation to her advantage, no doubt convincing Jack and Cas that yes, actually, this is exactly how you play it. She’s chewing on her lip slightly, in way that could pass for concentration. More likely though, Dean thinks, it’s to hide a smile that says: this is like taking candy from a baby-God. The baby-God in question is sitting across the table, next to Cas, eyes wide and earnest, contemplating his nonsensical hand of cards with the focus of a laser-pointer. Dean hopes they’re not playing for money. Claire would clean up.

Dean smiles at Cas, hands him the plate of gingerbread. Reaches out with his uninjured hand to sweep a thumb over his cheekbone. He leans down to press an unselfconscious kiss to the centre of his forehead, and isn’t that a testament to how far he’s come. (From the corner of his eye, Sam watches the exchange. Sees Dean’s wedding band glint in the lamp light as he touches a palm to Cas’ cheek. Smiles to himself.)

Cas accepts the gingerbread, pats the chair next to him. “Sorry I skated over your hand, Dean,” he says woefully.

Dean, always Dean. Never babe, or honey, or something equally as cloying that’d have Sam choking on his granola. Just, Dean. He’s never heard his name spoken with such weight before. It’s like a code between them, like only Dean can hear that secret reverence, the adoration that Cas pours into the single word. A benediction, confession. A promise. At the risk of sounding self-important; Dean’s never loved the sound of his own name more.

“S’alright. Better story than all my other scars.” He points at his right shoulder through his Henley, knowing Cas has memorised all the skin underneath. “Vamp.” Left knee: “Shifter.” Left hand: “Crazed husband on ice skates.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I did tell you not to lie down.”

Dean looks at him, scandalised. “It’s a well-known fact that star-gazing is, like. The peak of romance–”

“But I was still–“

“–but stargazing and ice-skating? You should probably, like, marry me, dude. Get me locked down quick, and all that.”

He drags the chair a bit closer to the table and sits down. Cas beams at him, eyes shining over these cute little round reading glasses they’d bought for him last week. “I believe I already have that covered.”

This time it’s Claire that rolls her eyes. “God, you two are ridiculous. Can’t you see we’re locked in tense gameplay here?”

Jack nods, palpably sincere, eyes still rooted to his cards.

“Sorry, sorry.” Dean pushes the gingerbread plate in Claire’s general direction in apology. Claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Who’s winning, then? Also, uh… what are the rules, exactly?”

He rests a hand on Cas’ knee, draws patterns on the denim. Listens as Jack gives a roundabout explanation of Frankenstein-UNO, how Claire is inexplicably winning every round. It’s weird to think of Jack as actual God now, not when he’s sitting here like this, turning over a Virginia Avenue monopoly card and expression immediately souring. It’s like he has this internal switch, able to toggle between normal-Jack and God-Jack when needed. In moments like these, it almost feels like nothing’s changed. But then he’ll get that glint in his eye, stand up a little straighter, like divine duty’s been injected directly into his veins. Teleport off, continue working on that ground-breaking heaven restructure he’s been talking about. Dean always says that he hopes they’re living it up, Bobby and Ellen and Jo – and all of the rest of them – in heaven-mark-three. That he can’t wait to see the changes. Then Cas’ll chime in, like clockwork. Not for another forty years, I hope. Dean wonders if they’ll get, like, coupons for the heavenly frozen yogurt places, or something. Being one of the unofficial fathers of God has to hold some clout up there, right?

In truth, Dean has some more questions about heaven, heavier ones that weigh on his chest. Lead on his tongue, back-of-his-mind whispers that louden at night. Ones he hasn’t quite found the words to articulate aloud yet. Who, exactly, will be there waiting for him, when he gets there?

Absentmindedly, Dean’s right hand moves to scratch at his left. It’s not at all scabbed yet, but the pain doesn’t really register. He’s just going through the motions. Scrape. Is it wrong, to not want him to be there? Peel. There is a monster at the end of this book. Scrape–

Cas catches his hand and Dean’s thoughts are halted in their tracks. He takes a breath. Cas’s palm sweeps over his knuckles, pulls at his wrist. Loops Dean’s arm around his own shoulders. The careful intensity of his gaze feels achingly familiar. Dean’s hand rests on Cas’ shoulder, now. Cas keeps holding it. Hand and gaze alike.

It’s like he has a permanent window into his thoughts. Dean wonders if it’s some celestial muscle memory, considering all that practice he’d had as an angel. So used to looking beyond Dean’s face, underneath the bone and flesh of it; seeing his soul itself shifting under his skin. Or maybe this is just Cas. Freakishly attuned to him in a way that transcends angelic powers and logic. Maybe this is just Cas-and-Dean.

He’s vaguely aware that Claire and Jack are still talking, arguing the merits and impact of a rogue nine of diamonds, when Sam announces a text from Jody. Apparently, the snowstorm’s eased a bit, and they’re good to hit the road again tomorrow. They’ll probably be at the bunker within a day or two.

Claire’s looking up from her cards now, the thrill of young love apparently overpowering the need to thrash your brother-God at Monopoly-UNO.

Sam aims a piece of popcorn at her. “She also said that Kaia’s really looking forward to it.” He launches it at her and she catches it, effortlessly. The slight flush though, high on her cheekbones, betrays her.

“Did you end up getting through to her earlier?” Cas asks.

“No – just dial tone. Must’ve been because of the storm.” She pauses. “Actually. If the snow’s died down a bit…” she glances at Jack, scoops her cards up into a neat little pile. “Fifteen minutes,” she says to him, grabbing her phone of the table. “I’ll be right back! Don’t look at my cards!”

Jack nods amiably, smiling at her like she’s just put an idea in his head.

Claire reaches the doorway just as Charlie walks in, towel on her head and hot chocolate balanced on her laptop.

“Lesbian relay race,” she says, deadpan, as Claire greets her. Claire snorts, manages to high-five her without looking up from her phone.

Charlie sets her mug down on the table, stealing a bit of gingerbread from Dean’s plate in one swift movement, grinning at him. No doubt she’s ventured out of her room in the hopes of being fed. She’s always first up on weekend mornings, seemingly able to hear the sound of Dean plating up pancakes from seven rooms over. Dean loves having Charlie visit.

“Two very important questions, folks. One: shall we all watch Die Hard tonight?” There’s a chorus of yeses, punctuated by Cas shaking his head at Jack. “Two: what is this monstrosity of a game and how do I play it?”

“Sit here,” Dean says, making a move before the ‘Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?’ debate can start up again (for the record, it absolutely is). “Jack’ll explain. Me and Cas need an eggnog top-up.” He taps Cas on the shoulder, nods in the general direction of the kitchen.

“Two-man job, is it?” Sam smirks at Dean as they pass by. He’s facing Eileen as he says it, so she too, can appreciate his unending wit. She giggles at Sam, raises an eyebrow at Dean and Cas. They’re an absolute double-act tonight, Dean thinks. This is probably the least attention they’ve paid to a movie since he finally sat them all down to watch Star Trek IV. Ingrates. He’s once again delighted that Charlie’s here.

Dean opens his mouth, ‘the best ones always are, Sammy!’ already forming on his tongue. Low-hanging fruit? Probably. Hilarious? Definitely. Cas glares at him though, and he glances at Jack. Somehow still the picture of innocence, even as he rummages through a hand of cards that he’s failing to pass off as his own. Dean closes his mouth. Sticks to a gesture of universal understanding that he can shoot at Sam, when Jack’s not looking.

When they finally reach the kitchen, Cas stops him in the doorway. He gently takes his injured hand and brings it up to his lips, kisses the palm.

“I hate hurting you,” he says quietly. He leaves the rest of the sentence stuck at the back of his throat; I can’t even heal you anymore. Dean hears it anyway. Crowds him into a hug.

“Honestly, dude, it’s fine.” He presses a kiss to his hairline. “Accidents happen. And it’s kinda hilarious.”

“Hmm.”

“It is. Next time we go, remind me to take you to an actual rink. That way you can hold on to the side with the other twelve-year-olds.”

Cas narrows his eyes, twisting in a half-hearted attempt to disentangle himself from Dean’s arms. Dean doesn’t let him. Lightly runs his fingernails over Cas’ forearms until he shivers.

“We can make it a Christmas tradition.” Dean looks upwards. Shifts them a half-step left. “And speaking of traditions…”

Cas follows his line of sight, eyes coming to rest on a tiny sprig of mistletoe taped neatly to the lip of the doorframe. He grins.

“Why do you think–,” he leans in, an inch from brushing Dean’s smiling lips with his own, “–I stopped us in the doorway?”

“Great minds, dude,” Dean whispers.

His heart soars ridiculously in his chest, like this isn’t something they’ve done a hundred, a thousand times before. He closes his eyes against the sudden rise of emotion and then they’re kissing, Cas smiling into it. Dean’s good hand moves up to Cas’ hair, curves round to stroke at the nape of his neck. Cas’ lips are soft, achingly gentle, parting easily for him. He’s got both hands cradling Dean’s face, like he’s holding him in place, trying to explain something to Dean without words. Using just the connection of their lips. They break apart after a while, breathless, and Dean presses a handful more chaste kisses to Cas’ cheek until he’s laughing, walking backwards until Dean has him pinned up against the doorframe.

Dean looks around furtively, then unbuttons the top of Cas’ stolen flannel, presses an open-mouthed kiss to the thin scar he finds at his Adam’s apple. This is a tradition too, now. Cas sighs, murmurs three words into his hair, and Dean answers with four more kisses down the hollow of his throat, one for each word of his reply. The eggnog sits, untouched, on the countertop and, honestly, this is turning into an accident just waiting to scar a family member. At the moment, though, Dean can’t really bring himself to care. He trails his mouth upwards to capture Cas’ lips, again, again, again, and the sound of easy laughter from the library sits light and buoyant in the air. Back in their room, a little vial of orphaned grace sits, forgotten and dusty, on the uppermost shelf of their closet.

tag list:

@drriffly @cas-s-sinoatrial-node @seraphlm @itsinjustbeing @cursed-or-not@casandeans @dreamnovak @heller-jensen @joharvele @chaoticdean @dickspeightjrs @contemplativepancakes @oflosechesters @acabdean@aelysianmuse @yearningcas @murphycooper @casbelieves @tearsofgrace @footstepsontherun @adsdragonlover @half-dead-hunter @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul

#spnfamsecretsanta #merry chrimble ely !! love u xx #deancas #destiel #deancas fic #destiel fic #my writing

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

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Kinktober #18: Cherry Garcia: Bucky Barnes

You’ve made an unfortunate habit of pilfering Bucky’s ice cream stash. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he caught you.

Characters: Bucky Barnes / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), secret late-night kitchen sex, ice cream sharing, f l u f f

Notes: I’m trying this thing where I don’t post at midnight, like a swamp creature.

This is not proofread as thoroughly as it should be. I’m throwing this at the wall and running away. Today’s prompt was ‘In the Kitchen,’ so of course I had to make it cute.

*flails* i love picturing Bucky with a sweet tooth 🥺

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s three o’clock in the morning and you’re starving.

You’re not quite sure when this little habit of yours turned into such a thing. After all, originally it was a bit of a fluke. You were fresh off a mission with frayed nerves and exhausted muscles. It had been the middle of the night and you’d just wanted a little comfort food.

It wasn’t your fault that you’d found out about Bucky’s love of ice cream. It was something he’d never tried growing up. Milk, sugar and eggs were commodities far too valuable to be affordable in his youth. Let alone the even more precious ability to keep things cold.

Now, he keeps at least three flavours of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer at all times. They’re always there, though, so you can’t imagine he samples them often. What, you’d thought, so many nights ago, could possibly be the harm in sampling a few bites?

Of course, a few bites at the end of a long mission soon blossomed into more. These days, you were sneaking down every night to grab a bowl. Sitting on the counter with your legs dangling over the edge and finishing it in the dark. Then crawling back upstairs to bed, quiet as a mouse.

Not quiet enough, as you were about to find out.

The compound kitchen is massive- like the kitchen in a restaurant, or a bakery. Double ovens on one wall, a massive eight-burner Viking, two fridges and an upright freezer. It has to store enough food to feed the entire team, after all. Snack hoards included.

But it still feels homey these days. There are beautiful windows above the sink that stream butterscotch sunlight in the morning. There’s a little breakfast nook tucked away to one side. And you have so many memories of this place. Baking pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving, making a mess of Steve’s birthday cake. Fighting over who’s going to clean up after Vision cooks dinner for all of you.

And sneaking into the freezer in the middle of the night for a taste of Bucky’s Cherry Garcia.

You take your usual post on the edge of the counter, flipping open the paper lid and digging your spoon into the frozen treat. You’re lifting the first sinful bite to your lips when-

“Ah-hah.”

Your blood goes cold. You know that voice.

“Bucky,” you squeak. Slowly, you set the ice cream down and nudge it away from you, but it’s too late. You’ve been caught Cherry Garcia-handed.

“Please,” he croons, holding up a palm with a smug smirk. He glides across the dark kitchen with all the grace of stalking cat. He’s pretty comfortable invading your personal space these days, much to your chagrin. As a result, he’s not shy about coming right up between your thighs, flesh and metal sliding up your bare skin.

Your face tilts forward out of habit, but he keeps his mouth hovering above yours, letting a soft puff of breath over your lips.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he chuckles. He brushes his nose against yours and pulls away, snagging the open ice cream from beside you.

“You gonna tell me how long this has been going on?” He asks. It’s obvious, as he stirs the ice cream with your abandoned spoon, that he finds this hilarious. You suppose you should be relieved. Then again, you can’t imagine Bucky getting seriously upset at you for pilfering his ice cream stash.

You don’t understand why you’re so embarrassed, then.

“Remember Rome?” You purse your lips. It was months ago. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“You little minx,” he accuses, dabbing the spoon into the rapidly softening Cherry Garcia. He takes a little spoonful and smirks, holding it up to your lips. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking right now, but you take the scoop, tasting Vermont-sweetened cherry and the bitter snap of a chocolate chunk.

“I shoulda known,” he chuckles, taking a bite for himself and putting the carton down. He braces his hands on your thighs again. “I don’t even like Cherry Garcia. But somebody took the seal off, didn’t they?”

He leans forward, and this time he doesn’t wait to close the gap between you. His tongue is cold and sweet, but his warm hands are shifting higher and higher on your bare thighs, brushing beneath the hem of your (his) oversized t-shirt.

“What’d I tell you about stealing my snacks?” He chuckle-growls as he draws back from your lips and glides his mouth along your jaw. His scruff brushes your cheek; in the dark, you can see the silhouette of his hair as it slips forward.

He laves his tongue over your pulse point, then kisses it sweetly. All the while he’s slipping a hand between your legs to thumb the cotton of your underwear, damp and warm already from his ministrations.

“That you’d be… glad to share with me,” you croon, biting down hard on your lower lip, “because I return the favour often in bed.”

Bucky retaliates by pushing the crotch of your panties to one side and dipping a finger into your slit, making your whole body twitch.

“Maybe it’s time you returned the favour now, then,” he rumbles. Your hips tilt forward into his touch. You whine. You can’t even pretend not to want this.

You reach forward, fingertips brushing the elastic edge of his sweatpants. That’s all he’s wearing- since when does he wander the compound in the middle of the night without a shirt?

You push his sweatpants and they slide precariously low on his hips. Beneath the baggy material, it’s easy to see that he’s getting hard. He nips in, slipping his hands under your thighs and pushing his hips forward to rub against you before you can even get another look.

“Bucky,” you gasp, looping your arms around his neck. He shucks his sweats down to his knees and his cock pops out against your thigh, twitching and rapidly stiffening with his growing excitement.

“Always wanted to fuck you down here,” he chuckles sleepily against your neck. He slides a hand between you to grab himself, giving a few strokes. He doesn’t need them- he’s like a steel rod against you- but he’s lining himself up and you’re already wet and this is not how you thought your Wednesday night would go.

He pushes forward, pumping into you right away with near-lazy strokes.

“Aw, fuck,” he groans against your skin, already starting to tremble. “Hell, baby, how come you never told me you were gonna be this tight?”

You can’t help but giggle. He’s had you a million times. But it never gets old, sex with Bucky. Not even in the compound kitchen at three o’clock in the morning.

He starts to rut up into you in earnest now, seeking a precise rhythm. He holds you firmly in place as he fucks you. The slow clap of your bodies is slightly muffled by your panties, still bunched in the crook of one thigh.

He slips his right hand between your legs and finds the swell of your clit.

“That’s it,” he pants, feeling the way you clench around him when he thumbs the tight bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

You love the way he loses himself when he’s with you. He’s so measured in his everyday life- exercising control, nervous to seem collected in front of his other teammates. But when it’s you, when it’s just you, he’s vulnerable. He’s loving. He’s charming. He’s caught up in ecstasy.

When he comes, you feel every cell of him shake. Even in the quiet of the kitchen, where he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck and huff tenderly through it, pistoning his hips messily into your body as he pumps you full of him.

He surges forward. One hand braces fervently on the granite countertop. He knocks the Cherry Garcia over. Half-melted, it pools across the shiny surface.

You hold him gently as he resurfaces, waiting until he backs slowly from you to speak. He’s tucking himself back into his pants- wet, softening, and you can’t help but ogle.

“Please remind me,” you sigh, tugging your panties back between your thighs, “to steal your ice cream way more often.”

“Hey,” he barks, grinning playfully up at you. The exhaustion of the late hour is starting to settle over the both of you. “Don’t push it. I let you off with a warning this time.”

“That was just a warning?” You hop off the counter, pausing when you spot the mess out of the corner of your eye. “Shit.”

“Leave it,” Bucky growls playfully, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you close. “I kind of like it.” He grins, kissing your head.

“Somebody’s going to kill us in a few hours when they find it.”

Bucky just smiles, hooking an arm around your shoulders and ushering you toward the door. Back to bed.

“Let ‘em try.”

#bucky barnes/reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes #reader insert #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel kinktober #marvel fanfic #readerfic

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

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White Lies (Pt. 06 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (05)

Next part (07) ->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Being Held

“I don't care what you think, you'll do what's best for (Y/N).” Keanu didn't want to be this rude with Mrs. Davis, but she's giving him a hard time. The doctors have already spoken to her and she agreed on not telling (Y/N) the truth since her health and the baby's depend on it. But still, seating on the first floor's balcony, as (Y/N) showers and changes after the morning walk, Lucia doesn't seem very happy about it.

“Of course not, Mr. Reeves. Or whatever you fancy people rather be called. But this isn't fair, and it isn't right. Do you plan to have this going on for how long?” She raises her voice, what makes Keanu's heart skips a beat. He looks over his shoulder, just to make sure (Y/N) isn't anywhere near. “My son is dead, but this is his child. You can't steal it from him.”

“Everything I'm doing is to keep her healthy.” He whisper-yells, both hands resting on the circular wooden table as he stands up, bending forward, trying to look as intimidating as he can. He doesn't give a damn if Lucia is her mother-in-law and the child's grandmother, he won't let her do anything that may put (Y/N) or the baby in danger. “You weren't here. You didn't see how desperate and lost she was, but I did. Breaking the news to her may lead to a miscarriage. Is this what you want? To lose your grandchild?” He spits the words out, tired of this stupid conversation. This woman is an idiot, he thinks, because he knows she had a meeting with both Dr. Wright and Dr. Harris about (Y/N)'s situation. But Keanu's last words make the woman sink a little, eyes softening, but he can still see some anger. Lucia Davis doesn't like him, that much is clear. “I'm not trying to steal anything from your late son, I'm just–”

“Keanu?” Her soft, low voice calls from the inside, cutting his words short. He takes a deep breath before turning around, watching as she shyly walks to the balcony, curious eyes already looking for Mrs. Davis, and she stops when her eyes find her. “Hi.”

“(Y/N), this is Lucia Davis. Your mother's friend.” He says, reaching out his hands, which she quickly takes, moving to stand next to him. “You were somewhat close.”

With a hand on the small of her back, Keanu listens to the small greetings, thinking if he should go away now, unsure if it's safe to let Lucia alone with (Y/N). But he quickly remembers that the first floor bathroom is close by, with high windows that will allow the conversation to reach his ears. He doesn't want to spy on them, but this is (Y/N)'s health, and he'll do whatever is necessary.

“I'll take a shower.” He tells her in a low voice, offering a small smile when she nods. Placing a kiss on her forehead, Keanu touches her belly gently, at the same time shooting a hard glance at Mrs. Davis. It's a warning, a reminder of what's at risk of she opens her mouth. Then, he leaves, heading to the bathroom after quickly grabbing some clothes, the low voices successfully making their way inside the bathroom.

You're bouncing your leg lightly, wondering how long Keanu will take. This woman is weird, she hasn't stopped asking about your husband, if he's taking good care of you. At first, you thought she was a fan, but now... There's anger in her eyes, like she's pissed off. Ten minutes into the conversation and you want Lucia to go already.

“Has he ever tried to... Force you?” She asks, leaning forward on the table, across from you.

“What do you mean?” Sighing, you play with a strand of hair, twisting it around your finger.

“Has Keanu tried to get intimate with you?” Lucia speaks faster now, grabbing your hand over the table. “Because that's not ok. Even if... Even if you're married–” She spits the last word as if it's something disgusting. “–you don't remember him, so he can't force you to do anything. Don't let him trick you into it.”

“Mrs. Davis, Keanu has been amazing.” You repeat, the conversation draining your strength. “He hasn't forced me into anything. I'm still sleeping in the guest room and so it'll be as long as I want. He's giving me all the space and time I'll need to get things together.” You really hope she can't see you blushing, because there's heat spreading through your face. You haven't thought about any on this yet, and you do hope it won't get into your head. “I assure you everything is great. He's taking good care of me.”

She sighs, shaking her head slightly. “If he ever does anything you're not comfortable with, you call me and I'll take you with me to Argentina.”

A laugh escapes your lips because you can't believe your ears. “I'm not going to leave my husband.” You tell her, crossing your arms over your chest. “I'm completely fine, you don't have to worry about me.” The headache that had just vanished is starting to come back, and you begin rubbing your temples.

“I'm just–”

“Headache?” Keanu speaks suddenly, startling you a little just before you're filled with relief.

“Yeah.” He knows you well. “I think I'll take another pill and get some rest.” Hoping Lucia will get the hint, you stand up, taking Keanu's hand.

“Mrs. Davis, I'm sorry, but I think you should go now. The doctor's said (Y/N) has to rest whenever the headaches get bad.” He says, and you nod, giving the woman a small smile and a wave before heading inside.

That was beyond awkward, and you don't think you'll want to meet with her anytime soon. Making your way to the bedroom, you sit on the bed, back resting on the headrest. It's terribly hot in here, and you jump back to your feet just to push the two windows open before going back to bed. You were expecting Keanu to come to check on you, but long fifteen minutes or so pass by before you listen to his heavy footsteps, and then it doesn't take much until he's opening your door. You're fanning yourself with your hands, the wind coming in not enough to push the heat away.

“I didn't like her.” It's the first thing you say. “And she doesn't like you one bit.”

“I noticed.” Keanu sits next to you, furrowing his eyebrows. “It's probably the age thing.”

“What age thing?” As you speak, you get irritated, pulling your hair off of your shoulders and pinning it above your head with both hands. “Damn it, why am I so hot?”

For some reason, it amuses Keanu, who smiles. “It's called a hot flash.” You were just about to snap at his smirk, but when he leans forward and blows on your neck, the fresh sensation makes you close your eyes and relax just a little bit.

“That's so good.” You mutter, closing your eyes. Then, an idea flashes through your head. “Oh! Go get some ice cubes.”

“Ice cubes?” He asks, quite uncertain.

“Yeah. I had an idea.” Playfully, you give his leg a light kick, smiling when he gives in and stands up.

A couple of minutes later your husband is back with a glass bowl full of ice. You're still fanning yourself and the moment he sits on the bed, you take two cubes, one in each hand, placing them on your neck. “Damn, this is good.” Giggling, you close your eyes to take in the cool sensation against your burning skin. “Help me out.” You ask him, eyes opening again to give him a look. “If you want of course.”

He hesitates a little, eyes lingering on you before he takes an ice cube too. “Where?”

“Uhm...” Thinking for a while, you sigh. “Here on my chest.” Pinching his eyebrows together, he hesitates again. “C'mon, I'm burning up.” With your hands slightly wet from the melting ice, you put the thin straps of your shirt down your shoulders a little. A smile comes to your lips when he finally gives in, softly brushing the cube on your skin, bellow the collarbones. “Thanks.” You mutter, feeling as the heat slowly starts to fade. “What was that you said before? The age thing?”

Keanu sighs, eyes on his current task as you run the cubes through your neck. “Some people are very judgmental about the age difference between us.” He starts, and you're sure he gets a little sad. “It got me thinking too, of course. You definitely should be with someone your age so–”

“Yeah, but here we are.” Deciding to cut him off, you stare at him even though he won't look at you. “I can't speak for myself before, but whoever I was, I married you. So it's probably everything you gotta know about it. And now...” Maybe you shouldn't say it, but you know it's true. And when his eyes meet yours, filled with doubt, and something you've never seen before, you know you have to say it. Keanu needs to know where you stand now because this is like a forced restart. “...I find it really hot.” Muttering, you feel a different kind of heat spreading through your body.

Keanu's lips break into a smile, and a soft giggle reaches your ears. You absolutely love the sound, it makes you want to kiss him. Wait, what? You knew that what Lucia said would somehow get into your head, but you never thought it would be that fast.

“You know what else is hot?” Keanu asks as you pull the ice cubes away, throwing them back in the bowl Keanu placed on the nightstand.

“What?” You inquire, wondering if there's a joke coming your way.

“This,” Keanu answers, tilting his chin slightly, pointing out at you. Now your burning again, cheeks red for sure, looking away from him.

“Don't tease the pregnant woman, Keanu.” You warn him, voice suddenly and unexpectedly weak. “Lucia also said that she'd take me to Argentina with her. As if.” You didn't want to bring her back into the conversation, but you're willing to talk about anything else, eager to calm yourself down and get rid of the thoughts of kissing Keanu.

“If you want to go, you know I won't stop you, right?” He puts the ice cube away, and you sigh, turning your attention back at him. “I'm sure she'd take good care of you.”

“I doubt that. She'd never rub ice cubs on me.” Taking his hand, you give it a little squeeze. “I'm happy, Ke. Living here with you is great. There's a lot to get used to and a lot of things to work on but... This is good. I feel good and safe with you around.”

The smile he has on it's amazing, beautiful. It's the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. “This makes me happy too.” He mutters, bringing his free hand to caress your cheek.

“So don't worry. As if I was going to leave the father of my child behind.” Changing to a joking tone, you place his hand on your belly. “I don't even speak Spanish.”

He giggles again, but soon enough Keanu gets all serious. “You have no idea how much it means to me that... That you're feeling fine. Happy...”

It's true that sometimes you even forget about the accident. It never lasts for more than a couple of minutes, but it means that you can move on from it. But you don't think the same happens with Keanu. You feel like the accident is everything he thinks about, and you hope that taking care of you isn't overwhelming to him. You wish there was something you could do to ease his burden.

“Ke, I... I really want us to work out. If I remember or if I don't, I want things to be completely, one hundred percent fine here.” Moving to sit on your legs, standing closer to him, you touch both his shoulders. “You worry too much. And I get it. My body is still recovering, and there's the baby too, but... I don't want it to become too much and... Ruin things.”

“You're not ruining anything, beautiful, I promise.” With his index finger under your chin, Keanu makes you look into his eyes. “I'm doing this because I love you. I worry because I love you. And nothing will change that. It's not too much, I can do this.”

“Alright, but... Share things with me, you know. Let me help as much as I can being... Well... Like this.” There's a lump in your throat, and you feel tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Hey, don't cry. Come here” Keanu gently pulls you into his arms, and you don't even try to fight it. You had planned this, you decided to fall for him again, but you didn't know your feelings would start to grow by themselves, without you having to force them. You want him, you want to be in his arms, so you don't think much before placing your legs over his, allowing him to hold you. This is everything you need right now, everything you want, to be held by him.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction

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spencessmile · 5 years ago

Text

Trinity House

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary - You and Spencer visit a bookstore that’s close to both of your hearts.

Warnings - Fluff

Word Count - 2216 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. Happy reading!

A/N - Went to a bookstore earlier today and thought about this cute concept. Gah, I would do anything to be able to go to a bookstore with Spencer.

Requests are open!

Spencer sat across from you in the living room. He was seated near the fireplace, case files surrounding him.

You were on the couch, a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream in your left hand as you doodled in your sketchbook, feeling snug in his blue sweater that was over-sized on you.

"How are the drawings coming along?" Spencer asked, looking up at you.

"It's getting there," You said, going over the lines to give your drawing a messy look.

"We don't have any plans for the evening, right?"

"Well, I was planning on finishing this drawing and then starting my next one because I have a crazy idea for it."

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream and drawings, the two things to keep you happy in life."

"Make sure you never run out of mint chip ice cream or sketchbooks."

"Wouldn't dream of it babe," Spencer blushes.

"If I ever came home and our freezer didn't have any more mint chip ice cream or your desk didn't have piles of my favorite quality of sketchbooks, I would run away."

"I wouldn't let you run," Spencer responds.

"Good." You said, looking back down at your drawing.

You and Spencer continued to quietly work until you felt his eyes on you.

"Your staring at me," You said.

"I'm admiring."

"Well," You said putting your sketchbook down and walking over to him. "You're distracting me." You sat down beside him, flipping over his case files not wanting to see whatever he was working on. You had huge respect for what Spencer did for a living but you made it very clear to him to keep his case files feets away from you. You chose to see the good in the world but you knew that as you looked into one of those files you would lose all faith in the world, you didn't want that.

"Let's go to Trinity House," Spencer smiles.

"Really?"

"We haven't been in so long. Come on," Spencer helps you off the ground and races down the hall to grab his satchel.

"Can I at least change?" You ask as Spencer walks back out.

"Why?"

"Because I look a little messy," You motioned down to your clothes.

"I love when you look messy," He replies, pecking your lips.

Spencer held your hand as you drove passed down familiar streets. Spencer and you loved Trinity House in words you couldn't describe, maybe it was because it's where you first met Spencer and fell in love with a nerd who had the perfect golden brown eyes and a smile that made you melt.

"You know who's going to be really glad to see us?" You asked.

"Jess," You both said at the same time.

Jess worked at Trinity House for longer than before you and Spencer ever meant but she was the one who always teased you about Spencer whenever you would come in. It was the push from Jess and your lucky stars that you mustered up the courage to ask Spencer out one day when he walked in the bookstore.

"How long has it even been?" Spencer asked and you shrugged.

"It's been way too long."

"It's been far too long since we've come here," Spencer said, parking right in front of the bookstore. He unbuckled his side and helped you out.

"Thank you," You responded, kissing Spencer's kiss.

Spencer opened the door for you, stepping in you took in the smell of books and coffee.

"Y/N!" Spencer!" You turn to see Jess running towards you, hugging you tightly.

"Hi Jess," You said, as she pulled back and waved at Spencer. "I'm seeing you both after so long. I thought you forgot about this place." She exclaimed.

"I don't think that's possible," You said.

"Jess, how have you been?" Spencer asked.

"I've been good," She replied.

"I see you did some renovations," Spencer said, pointing to the several new paintings and remodeling that was done.

"Yup, wanted to give the place a more comfier feel? So, how does it feel?"

"Comfy," Spencer replied and she nodded.

"So?" She raised her eyebrow at you and Spencer. "How have you two been? Married? Any cute little genius babies yet?"

"Not yet," Spencer shook his head. "But I did ask Y/N to move in."

"Oh, did you say yes?" She said, looking at you.

"I couldn't resist," You reply. "He's just too pretty to resist."

Spencer blushed as he playfully pushes you away. "Go look for your books," He said. You walk away as you notice Spencer continuing his conversation with Jess.

You stare at all the new books that were apart of the Trinity House and you wanted them all. But you needed to control yourself because Spencer and your's apartment literally looked like a bookstore. There were books everywhere; left, right, in every corner of the apartment.

As you continued to gaze at all the books, Spencer and Jess watched you.

"She has the most incredible taste in books," Jess spoke.

"I choose from her side of the bookshelf more then mine," Spencer admitted, truthfully. "I thought nobody had better taste than me in books but she takes the crown." Jess laughs.

"She's always had an eye for the best," Jess said, and Spencer blushed. "Go find your books, I'll be in the back whenever you two love birds are done."

Spencer walks over to you.

"Find anything you like?" You looked up from your book to see Spencer.

"Is it bad that I want to buy this whole section of the shelf?" You pointed the left side. "They all are calling me name."

"Then add them to the pile baby," Spencer said, looking through your large stack of books on the small table.

"Did you find your book yet?" You asked.

"Is it weird that I'm nervous to look?" Spencer asked.

"Do you want me to look for you?" Spencer nods and took his hand and walk towards the R shelf. Spencer has been wanting to get his hands on The Essential Rumi book for months now and he only wanted the older version.

Your eyes quickly scan all the book titles until your eyes catch the book you're looking for. "Spence." You say, looking at him as his eyes were scanning another book from the shelf.

"Hmm," He responds. You pull out the book and put it in his reach of vision.

"They have it!" He whisperers, taking it slowly out of yours like it might fall into pieces if he grabbed it any quicker.

"They do," You smile as you looked at him admiring the book. "Babe, add it to the pile."

After another two hours or so Spencer finds you in the N section.

"Hey baby," Spencer called out for you.

"Hii," You respond.

"You already know that I love you but this book," Spencer grabbed it from you and ran his thumb over the cover. "Is heartbreaking." Spencer goes to put it back on the shelf but you stop him.

"I want to read it," You say.

"I don't want you reading this," Spencer said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because it'll make you cry."

"So?"

"You know it's breaks my heart when I see you crying," You lightly smiled at his response.

"I'll be okay my love," You said, kissing his cheek.

"Nobody is okay after reading this book," Spencer looks at you and you could tell this book hit Spencer somewhere deep. Spencer read thousands of books and remembers all of them but you remember Spencer telling you that there was one book that he'll never recover from and today you found which one.

"How about we buy it but I only read it when your home with me?" You ask. "So that if I do start crying you can be there to comfort me and tell me everything's going to be okay?" Spencer looks at you for a couple of moments before pulling you in for a small kiss.

"We can do that," He nods. "You ready to check out?"

"I think we got more than enough."

"You can never have enough books baby," Spencer said, carrying the basket full of books to the counter where Jess was waiting for you two.

You stand the shelf watching Spencer pay for books as you just simply admired him from afar. Spencer noticed you weren't beside him and he made grabby hands at you. You walked up beside him and laid your head on his shoulder.

"When will I see you two lover birds again?" Jess asked, slipping Spencer a receipt.

"As soon as we finish these," You pointed to the four bags on the counter, filled with books. You reached for a bag until Spencer smacked your hand away.

"No," He said, grabbing all the bags. "I got them." You smiled. "Thank you, Jess! See ya soon."

"I need to talk to Y/N Spencer," Jess said, holding onto your arm. "She'll meet you in the car in a couple of minutes."

"Everything okay?" Spencer asked, looking between you and Jess.

"Yup, just some girl talk."

"I'll be there in two minutes babe," You said and Spencer nodded. As soon as he was out of your and Jess's sight, she quickly grabbed a bag and handed it to you.

"When the book arrived I nearly cried," Jess said as you pulled out the book from the bag and looked at it. "He's going to love it."

You called Jess a couple of weeks back asking if she could track down a book for you that Spencer's wanting to get his hand's on for two years now.

"He is," You smiled, slipping her the money. "Thank you for doing this. I don't know how I'll repay you for this."

"You can repay me but having dinner with me. It's been way too long and we need to do some catching up."

"Yes. Definitely!" You say. "I'll see you real soon." You said walking out and getting into the car.

"You got another one?" Spencer questioned.

"It's the most important one," You said.

"Can I see which one?" He asked, curiously.

"I'll show once we get home."

"Okay," Spencer nodded. "Your cute." He added, kissing you.

"Your cute too."

"Not as much as you."

"I beg to differ."

Back at the apartment, you and Spencer stand on your separate sides of your huge bookshelf and organize your books with soft music playing in the background.

You were so concentrated in your books you didn't notice Spencer's hands wrap around your waist pulling you away from the bookshelf.

"Can you show me the last book you got?" Spencer asked.

"You really want to see it, huh?" You laughed.

"We always share our books with each other," Spencer spoke, he was right. You and Spencer always shared books.

"I can only get the book if you let go of me, my love." You say as Spencer let's go of you. You grabbed the bag and walk back up to him. "As I said earlier, this book was the most important." You held the bag in front of Spencer. "Open it." Spencer looked at you confused. He slowly opened the packaging.

You heard Spencer gasp as the cover of the book came into his vision.

"Y/N, you didn't," Spencer said, looking at the book in his hands.

"Oh but I did," You said, grabbing on his arm.

"Where did you find this book from? I haven't been able to get my hands on this for years!"

"I pulled a few strings." You smiled as Spencer looked at the book.

It was the book 'Between Shades of Grey' by Ruta Sepetys. Spencer had mentioned it several times he wanted it to be apart of his shelf more times then you could remember so you knew that you had to get it for him.

Spencer put the book down on the desk and looked at you.

"What's wrong? Is it the wrong one? If it is I can get it chan-"

"No, no, no," Spence shook his head. "It's the one." He said.

"Then what's wrong?"

"What's your favorite thing that you've found at Trinity House?" He asked, his voice soft.

Spencer's words put you in deep thought, you had found many things at Trinity House at were your favorite, you'd have no idea where to start.

"Want to know my favorite thing that I found at Trinity House?" He asked.

"What?"

"I found you at Trinity House." Your eyes began to water. "I found the most loving and adorable person there and I'm so thankful."

"I love you so much," You hugged Spencer as he rubbed your back. "And I thank my lucky stars for you every day."

Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are - Mason Cooley

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #BAU #criminal minds

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

Himbo Dad AU; Breakfast

Achilles opens the door to his house, and then walks into the kitchen his father cooking at the stove, Heracles eating from his dog bowl, loaded full of sausages, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, and eggs, the dogs face covered in grease, Achilles could tell the dog was probably on his second or third bowl though, he’d probably need to eat one more before his food coma could start.

Achilles sat at the large table in kitchen and greeted his father with sleepy yawn. “Mornin, dad.”

Jaune looks over his shoulder at his son, his hands never leaving the stove in front of him as he was cooking enough food for a feast, and greeted his son back in a warm, fatherly tone. “Morning, sleepy one, did you stay up all night at your aunt Saphrons? Or did you get some sleep?”

Achilles blushed a little. “I got some sleep…”

Jaune rose a well-groomed eyebrow. “A little? So, you don’t need to take a nap when you go upstairs? Cause, after breakfast, I’m going on a 100k, and could always use a strolling buddy, if your up for it~”

Achilles paled. “Uh, uh, no thanks dad, I might have stayed up all night with Adrian.”

Jaune sighed and shook his head. “It’s bad for growing boys to stay up all night, but it’s the weekend. Just make sure your ready for school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, school. Why can’t I just go to Sanctum like Adrian yet?”

“You’re only ten, value your childhood while you can.”

Achilles whispers “Yeah, like you haven’t told me all that hundred times.”

Jaune turned his head at Achilles his eyes narrowed. “Hmm, what was that? Sound like back sass, and back sass sounds like another 100-kilometer run, mister. If you really want to give up your childhood and go to Sanctum, you’ll have to start doing those runs every day.”

His son’s tanned skin turned pale at the statement. “Uh, no sir! Sorry, sir! Please don’t make me run with you, it’s like trying to keep up with speeding bullhead!”

Crossing the kitchen with a couple of long steps, and ruffle his son’s hair and puts several plates in front of him. “I’m just playing Killies, I would never make you do something that you don’t want to do, but, I’m just not ready for my little boy to grow up on me. So, please, just stay a little boy for a little while longer? For me?” Jaune says kissing his son on top of the head.

Achilles bats away his dad with a blush, and mumbles out. “Fine… Just long as you train me like you are Adrian, please and thank you.”

Jaune lets out a beaming smile. “It’ll be my pleasure, my little warrior. Now eat up, and get some rest.”

Achilles looks at his plate full of food, with cooked bacon, crispy hashbrowns with cheese and onions, pancakes decorated with his crest of a spear breaking two arcs, with spear being made of strawberries and whipped cream and the arcs honey, scrambled eggs dusted with salt, pepper, and local spices, and then a tray loaded with fruit. Served alongside a glass of tea and orange juice.

Achilles found he didn’t need much convincing to eat up, giving a rushed thank you, and with no thoughts on why his father had made more than ten times the normal amount of food for himself, Achilles, and Heracles.

The boy didn’t notice as several newcomers entered the kitchen, with almost all of them taking a seat around the table, with one going up behind Jaune, having to stand on their tip of their toes, before slipping their arms around his neck, leaning their chest into his back, and laying their head on his shoulders.

“Mornin Handsome~,” Robyn said into his ear.

Jaune shivered slightly at the feeling of her breath on his neck. “Hey there, beautiful, not that I don’t appreciate what your doing, but let’s keep the PDA to a minimum, Achilles is back and I don’t want to give him any trauma today.”

“Oh, is that so? No wonder you had us screaming like little banshee’s last night.”

“First off, don’t make it weird, second off, I have my room sound and vibration proof. Third, I’m making you breakfast, you don’t have to seduce me, you’ve already won.”

“Maybe, I just miss your touch.”

Jaune rolled his eyes and with an impossible to follow speed, he had Robyn cradled in one arm while still cooking.

He gave her a little peck on the nose, causing a blush to run across her tan skin. “There, that make you feel any better?”

Robyn had nothing to say, and merely blushing deeper.

Jaune returned back to cooking, one arm full of a blushing mess.

Achilles finally took a break from inhaling his breakfast to see his table no longer empty, but full of his… He didn’t know what to call them really, first to his left playing his hair was Ms. Fiona who used to watch him when he was little, but still hung out with his dad a lot. He didn’t mind her playing with hair though it felt nice. “I’d envy hair this nice if it didn’t tangle so badly,” He thought he heard her mumble. It was weird seeing her wear dad’s shirts though.

To his right was Ms. Schnee, she liked to do business with dad sometimes, something about hunting for the Argus Military based. But, it always bugged him that an Atlas General liked to a sleepover with dad, besides why did the general deal with contracts for Argus Military base, when she could have people there, do it? When he asked, she just said it was important for Generals to maintain connections with independent powers. Then gave him some lien to go buy a video game or something. Why she wore dad’s pajamas was beyond him.

The rest of the table was filled with Ms. Schnee’s friends? And Ms. Fiona’s friends, and oddly enough Ms. Nikos, their next-door neighbor… Actually, it’s not that weird, she practically lived over here.

Why they were wearing more of dad’s clothes than dad was wearing, he was only wearing a apron and a pair of shorts, was a mystery for another day.

The table seemed to notice him and gave him a series of hellos and good morning, he greeted them back, and got back to eating before they started asking about his grades and stuff. His social-studies weren’t great. He’d have to call Aunt Weiss or Blake for some help, Aunt Weiss would understand, plus she loved to spoil him. He knew Aunt Blake loved him, but deep down he was sure that she held a grudge for he bit her ears as a baby.

The sliding of plates across the table got everyone’s attention, a personalized plate for each seat at the table, along with bowls full of rolls, scones, and biscuits, baskets of bacon, sausage, and ham, and various pastries on plates.

Jaune put down Robyn into a chair, appreciating how his shirt looked on her, and took in the rest of the table with a pleased expression, really liking how his girls were looking wearing his clothes.

With a clap, he got everyone’s attention. “First, off enjoy. Second off, don’t show weakness Heracles will steal your food. Third, if it goes into the air or floor, it’s Heracles. Fourth, if you have leftovers, put them in Heracles doggy dish, he will love you forever. We, good? Alright, everybody dig in!”

A wave of giggles took over the table, before the sound of forks and spoons clinking over took the giggles.

Robyn looked at her plate hungrily, it full of roasted, seasoned tomatoes, a personal favorite of hers, large slices of ham and turkey, eggs sunnyside up, several slices of toast coated in butter and jam, a couple slices of bacon, mushrooms, baked apple slices, and to top it off a large glass of ice coffee.

Robyn gave Jaune a saucy glance, “I’d kiss you, if you hadn’t bruised my lips last night, by the way, are you trying to make me fall for you? It’s working~.” Robyn said before digging in.

Jaune gave a playful roll of the eyes. “I don’t need to try for something I already have.”

Next to Robyn, May sat in Jaune’s white undershirt, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to cover what the shirt barely covered with how loose it was on her. She groaned at her leader, but quickly resumed eating her breakfast of an omelette stacked full of ham, sausage, cheese, diced onions, and bacon on a bed of cooked hash browns, with a stack of pancakes on the side, with a ice vanilla latte on the side.

In-between Fiona and May, sat snuggly Joanna the only one besides Elm who could wear Jaune’s clothing without looking entirely ridiculous, but even then the flannel shirt was a size or two too big and she had to wear an undershirt underneath. She looked slightly amused at May’s annoyance and her leaders bad flirtation.

Her breakfast could be described as meat, all the meat and eggs she could have. Bacon? Check. Eggs? Scrambled, sunnyside up, omelet, and poached on toast. Ham? Yes. Turkey? An entire leg. Sausage? Links, patties, and summer sausage. Chicken? She had them on biscuits. Steak? With the eggs of course. Finally she had some Lox and other seafood, with a side of biscuits, various cheeses, jams, and a large strawberry protein shake and glass of water.

Fiona sitting next to Achilles wore little more than Jaune’s white long sleeve sweatshirt, not that she needed anymore as she wore it more like a dress from how big it was. She had given up on getting all of Achilles knots out of his hair, she had talked with Saphron and Terra before on how hard it was to get him to take care of his hair, she dreaded when Yang found out he started growing his hair out like her, but refused to take care of it properly. Anyway she was trying to get her lover’s son to open up to her a bit more.

Achilles was too consumed by eating to notice. Fiona let out a sigh and went to work on eat breakfast, Jaune was good to her, too good in fact and sometimes loaded up her plate more than she could eat, but she supposed growing up around seven sisters and then hanging out with huntress gave him a skewed view on how much she wanted to eat.

The plate was full of cooked mushrooms, baked tomatoes, a omelett full of leafy greens, onions, and vegetables, biscuits, muffins, pancakes, a yogurt parfait mixed with banana, nuts and strawberries, some scrambled eggs, sausage patties, and finally a large breakfast tea to finish it off. She had her work cut out for herself, but Jaune’s food was bar none the best in Argus.

Achilles was half way through his plate.

Winter scrolled across her Scroll, making sure her schedule was clear today… for reasons. She smiled when she saw that the day was clear along with tomorrow and most of the week, she pulled her, formerly Jaune’s pajama’s tight, and looked with a smile at her plate. She would never regret loaning Klein to Jaune so the man could learn the butler’s ways.

On her plate was a large waffle cover in chocolate custard with strawberries forming a heart in the center, her cheeks blushing slightly, Jaune always insisted she get all the love she was denied as a child. Also on the plate was sausage links, orange slices, blueberry muffins, some donuts, sliced ham, crackers, cheese, and some turkey. To drink was a simple black coffee.

To Winter’s immediate right was Harriet digging into her food, dressed only in a large red sweatshirt to cover herself. Her breakfast consists of toast, cheesy scrambled eggs, apple cinnamon oatmeal, berry smoothie, a couple bagels with cottage cheese, and some ham. A glass of water to the side. She was really hungry after all the, exercise she got last night. So conscious thoughts were a bit away.

Elm was the only one who was actually close to Jaune in size, but since he hit his second growth spurt he was almost a head taller than her, with even broader shoulders! That said while his clothes hung loosely on her, it wasn’t nearly as bad as say on Fiona. Elm wore a simple robe and undershirt with boxers on underneath. She wasn’t much of a morning person, but she managed through simple questions when asked.

Her breakfast was similar to Joanna’s, only even larger. With an omelet loaded to bursting with steak, and an ever larger caffeine chocolate protein shake, an entire plate with hashbrowns full of meat and cheese and the occasional onion.

Next to Elm was the last lady of the table, Thetis Nikos, mother to late Pyrrha Nikos. She wore Jaune’s robe and a black t-shirt. Her breakfast was a parfait loaded with fruit and nuts, a stack of pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs, a muffin and a cup of coffee.

Finally Jaune had his own plate… Platter, he had a platter, full of every meat he had all sizzling, crispy and delicious, all the eggs, all of them! A waffles, pancakes, oatmeal, muffins, protein shakes and smoothies, sausage and toast, his plate full was nearing total collapses.

Breakfast went on for a while, everyone scraffing down as much as them could, Joanna, Elm, Jaune, Achilles, and Thetis going for second, eventually it was all gone with what little scraps being given to Heracles.

“You spoil us, you know?” Elm called out to Jaune, holding her full belly.

“Yeah, you don’t have to cook for us everytime we swing by. I'm down for going out for breakfast, I just don’t understand how you have the energy, when,” She wiggles her eyebrows at Jaune. “You do the most exercise around here.”

A series of groans emerged around the table. Achilles could only nod, his dad did work out a lot.

Winter coughed at that, and then spoke. “I concur with that statement, I feel the time could be used more, pleasantly.” A blush rose on her face. “If I ordered catering, you wouldn’t have to rise two hours early to make breakfast for everyone.” She then said under her breath. “And then you wouldn’t have to leave the bed so early.”

May smirked at her from across the table. “You just don’t wanna lose your big spoon? Do you princess bed hog?’ Her smirk growing deeper at Winter’s atomic blush.

“Alright, alright, I get it, but I like cooking for everybody,” Jaune said a pearly smile, making the women at the table go weak in the knees. “Anyway, I have get up early anyway, to improve myself, and keep my body top of the line.” The weakness came back in full force for the women, remembering the taste they got last night of how top of the line his body was.

“Now, who’s up for a 100k run!” Jaune asks.

Only for all of them to groan, as they felt the soreness across their bodies from last night.

“Fine, I guess you girls got plenty of exercise last night.” Jaune said with a smirk.

Achilles didn’t get why the women around his dad were so weird, but it didn’t matter to him that much, they were in a way family to him, sure they weren’t always around, but when they were he enjoyed it, and all of them united in their shared fear of his father’s insane physical routine.

#Jaune is a himbo #Himbo dad #Achilles Arc

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