#thinking about how today when I was splashing cold water on my face because I sweated so much from playing with his Jianzi toy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taesjpq · 23 days ago

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Jealousy part. II

genre — best friends to lovers, fluff, smut MDNI!! pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — read part 1 hehe, this is pure smut (with plot) word count — 8,7k (part II)

I highly recommend reading part 1, first, or this probably won’t make much sense.

Warnings and notes under the line.

Notes: mention of san (ateez) and sangyeon (theboyz)

Well… it’s finally here!! it’s been a while, so even if you’ve already read part 1, I recommend giving it another read before diving in – this picks up right where it left off. Enjoy, and please scream & shout at me about how you liked it!! it’s my first time writing smut, so be kind (but also honest hehe) ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, switch!mingyu (CAUSE I KNOW HE IS), switch!reader, needy mingyu (yes that’s a warning), semi-public situations (they're not getting caught at all), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), consent emphasized, breast play, dirty talk, edging, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that!!), cockwarming, aftercare implied, excessive use of “fuck” and “shit” (because i can’t stop it)

21:12

"Woah."

Hoshi and Wonwoo storm inside, the door swinging shut behind them. "I almost turned into a damn tree waiting out there. Thought you guys were pretending not to be here."

There’s a pause. His eyes flicker around the room—searching.

"For whatever reason," he adds, dragging out the words before shooting Wonwoo a look, wiggling his brows. Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, balancing bottles in both hands.

Usually, Mingyu would roll his eyes, maybe even smack Hoshi for a dumb comment like that. But right now? His mind is too hazy, too full—still tangled up in you.

The second you hear their voices, you go.

Straight to the bathroom. Fast enough to escape, slow enough not to raise suspicion. The door clicks shut behind you, just shy of a slam.

Your hands grip the sink. Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed, cheeks burning, lips—fuck.

You look wrecked.

Your hair is a mess from where Mingyu had leaned too close, your lips are swollen from nothing but a brush, and your skin still tingles where his breath had been.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Inhale deep. Try to steady yourself.

Because they’re out there. He is out there. And you need to act normal.

So you force it all down, splash cold water on your face, and when you step out of the bathroom, you do what you do best.

You pretend.

"Why the hell wouldn’t you guys pick up my call? I was going crazy. Do you know how much I paid yesterday for your shit?"

Hoshi sprawls out on the couch, his voice loud and dramatic, while Wonwoo sets the snacks and bottles down on the table.

That’s how Hoshi expresses his worry—through complaints, through exaggerated frustration that’s half real, half just him being Hoshi. Usually, Mingyu would respond. Would roll his eyes, laugh, tease him back.

But right now?

Mingyu isn’t listening.

He can’t listen.

He sinks onto the couch, still lightheaded. Still caught up in the last few minutes.

Hoshi is talking—something about the night, something Mingyu should probably respond to—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s still in the kitchen. Still pressed against you. Still feeling the ghost of your lips brushing his. His whole body is tense, his skin too warm, his jeans way too fucking tight.

He shifts uncomfortably, subtly adjusting himself before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap. He tries—really, really tries—to focus on Hoshi. To nod at the right moments. To act normal. But all he can think about is how soft your lips felt, how you looked at him. The way your lips parted just slightly, like you were going to—

"So tell me, what did you guys do today?"

Fuck.

Mingyu freezes.

What—what is he supposed to say? That you guys—? No. No fucking way.

His stomach tightens. His jeans—shit—feel impossibly tighter. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him. He wasn’t even drunk, but it was too hot in here. Too much. Too you.

"Umm…" he mutters, fingers pressing to his temple, trying to come up with something—anything—normal to say.

"Nothing much," you say, stepping into the living room. Too casual. Too even. "Just ate, watched something. Pretty chill."

Hoshi hums, unconvinced.

And Mingyu—Mingyu forgets how to breathe.

His eyes drag over you—your face, your lips. Your legs, where he was between them just minutes ago.

Shit.

His grip tightens on the pillow.

"Yeah, of course," Hoshi says, voice laced with suspicion. But thankfully, he shrugs it off, already moving on to another topic. The conversation shifts, flows into something else.

But Mingyu doesn’t.

He stays still. Because you don’t look at him. Not once.

Since the second you walked into the room, since the moment you spoke, you haven’t spared him a single glance.

And fuck, that does something to him.

Fingers clenched. Jaw locked. Heart pounding.

Because this isn’t over.

Because no matter how much you pretend—

No matter how steady your voice is, how carefully you avoid his gaze—

He knows.

He knows now.

22:12

"Well, I was supposed to go out with the other guys tonight, but of course, you guys come first," Hoshi announces dramatically, stretching across the couch.

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his phone. "Why are you lying? You were the one who insisted on coming here and dragged me along."

Hoshi huffs and lightly smacks Wonwoo’s arm. "Shh, be quiet."

But then, as if the thought just occurred to him, Hoshi perks up. "Actually�� now that I think about it, I could've brought them along. They’re pretty cool."

He pauses for effect, then smirks. "Especially Sangyeon."

There’s something in his tone—something teasing—that immediately puts you on edge.

"You know what?" He grins. "I should introduce him to you. He might be your type."

Your head snaps up.

And so does Mingyu’s.

The air shifts in an instant.

“I—uh, I’m actually pretty picky, so don’t bother.”

“Come on, it can’t be that complicated. What is your type, anyway?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think—your gaze flickers to Mingyu.

Shit.

You regret it immediately. The moment is too fast, too obvious. Wonwoo catches it instantly, his sharp eyes reading your expression like an open book.

"Just leave her alone with your nonsense," Wonwoo says, his voice even, unimpressed. "Maybe worry about finding your own girlfriend first."

Hoshi gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Hey! I’m trying to help! It’s been years since she’s had a boyfriend!"

Your stomach tightens. You can’t sit here any longer.

Mingyu doesn’t look away. He just watches.

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, you need to get out of here. Now.

You force out a laugh, pushing yourself to your feet. "I think it’s time for more drinks."

"Want some help with that?” Wonwoo asks, still half-distracted by his phone.

"No!" It comes out too fast, too desperate. You cringe at yourself but don’t stop.

You don’t wait for a response—you just go.

The moment you step into the kitchen, you exhale sharply, setting the glasses down and gripping the counter.

Just breathe. In and ou—

“Need help?”

His voice.

Casual. Too casual.

He’s there—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulders broad, completely unbothered.Taking up too much space.

An annoyed smile tugs at your lips. Why can’t he just leave you alone?

“I thought I was being clear,” you mutter, staring ahead.

A slow, knowing hum. Amused. Mocking . “I’m just being nice. Like always.”

And he’s enjoying this—teasing you like this.

You shake your head, you shift, pulling open the fridge. “Good. Then don’t be like always.”

Mingyu straightens, uncrossing his arms, a soft chuckle.

You grab a couple of bottles, setting them on the counter before reaching for the glasses in the cabinet.

He doesn’t move. Just staying there at the door frame. Watching you.

“Yeah? And how exactly do you want me then?”

Your grip tightens around the glass.

Mingyu. You little shit.

You inhale, forcing yourself to keep your back to him. “I need you to be quiet. Just quiet.”

“Oh, I can do that,” he murmurs, voice lower, rougher.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. You don’t even turn around. Instead, you keep your gaze on the glasses in your hands—like that’s all you came here for.

“I think you know how.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward him like it’s nothing.

“If you’re done, here, make yourself useful.”

His smirk deepens. You’re trying so hard to act unaffected, but he sees it—the way your fingers tremble slightly, the way your breath catches.

Mingyu tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. “I thought you didn’t want my help?”

You shoot him a glare. You scowl. Why does he have to be so goddamn annoying?

And worse—why does he have to look this good while doing it?

But before you can fire back—

Your phone rings.

You glance down at your pocket, hands too full to reach for it. You sigh, shifting everything toward Mingyu.

He looks at you. A beat of silence. And just when you think he’s going to take the bottles—

His hand moves.

Not for the drinks.

For your phone.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

His fingers brush against your waist as he lifts the hem of your shirt—just slightly.

His fingers curl around your phone. He pulls it out, his gaze flickers down to the screen.

San.

The name rolls off his tongue. He’s heard it before, here and there. Was it someone from work?

His eyes flick back up to yours, searching. “This late?”

You swallow. “Give it back.”

You step forward, but he doesn’t move.

His grip tightens around your phone. He should just hand it over. He should step back.

Instead, the words slip out—low, unfiltered.

“Why is he calling?”

You blink.

Shit. It wasn’t a question he meant to ask. It wasn’t something he even thought about saying. It just fell out of him.

“What?”

The call ends. Silence.

Mingyu doesn’t answer the question. Neither do you.

Before you can figure out what's happening, he smiles. But not just any smile.That slow, knowing, devastating kind.

And then—He puts it back, back into your pocket.

Ding.

A message.

He tilts his head.

Ding. Ding.

“Must be important.”

Another message.

“You close?”

His voice dips lower.

You open your mouth, but before you can answer—

“How close?”

Something shifts.

The teasing is gone.

He sees the realization flicker across your face. You notice it now—the difference.

No smirking. No amusement.

Just—

Jealousy.

Your lips twitch.

This is fun.

Your turn now.

“This close,” you murmur, taking a few steps back.

His brows furrow slightly.

“Or this close?”

You step forward again.

His fingers flex. His jaw tightens.

Now he gets it.

Now you’re right in front of him. So close, almost touching.

“Or maybe… this close?”

So close you feel his breath. The way his chest rises. The way his hand twitches at his side.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips. Then back up.

His breath stutters.

Your voice drops, barely above a whisper.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Mingyu moves before he can think.

His hand grips your waist. Your back. Pulling you into him.

His body is so warm. So solid.

And then—

“I doubt you two are this close.” He leans in. Just slightly.

His breath ghosts over your lips, his fingers flexing against your waist.

The cold of the drinks and glasses in your hands presses against his chest, against his stomach—a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. It makes his breath hitch. You can feel it, the bottles and glasses pressing against your breasts, and you wonder what it would have been like if they weren't there.

“You didn’t even think about checking his messages,” he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. And then—lower—right against your ear—

“I have you right where I want you.”

A sharp inhale.

“YAAA!!”

Hoshi’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you break eye contact.

“MY DRINKS!! WHERE ARE MY DRINKS!!”

Mingyu should step back. He should let go.

He watches the way your chest rises. The way your lips part. The way your fingers tremble, just slightly, against his arm. He could end it right here. Close the space. Kiss you senseless.

He wants to. God, he wants to.

But the voices in the living room—too close.

He doesn’t know how it would end. Doesn’t know what you’d do. What he might do. Not when his pulse is this loud, not when you’re looking at him like you already know.

Not now, he thinks.

Because if he moves even an inch closer— He’ll do something stupid.

Right then where you think he would lean in —again

he takes the bottles and glasses from your hands.

Turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Leaving you standing there, heart racing.

Mingyu—smirking to himself.

He chooses restraint. For now.

00:34

Your night plays out like it always does.

Mario Kart on the Switch, followed by rounds of drinking games, laughter bubbling up with every sip, the room alive with energy. It’s become routine—getting tipsy with the guys, letting the evening slip into a blur of noise and warmth. But tonight, something’s different. Your mind isn’t on the game; it’s on him.

Mingyu.

You’re counting down the minutes until this all ends, until you can finally be alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“Okay, last round, Hoshi,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yes! Yes!” Hoshi hurls himself into the couch, already grabbing his drink before the race even starts. Predictably, he loses again.

You don’t even flinch, too distracted by the way Mingyu leans back against the couch, his eyes casually glancing at the screen but his attention fully on you. He’s sitting there, relaxed—his messy hair falling perfectly in a way that makes you want to reach out and fix it, even though you know he’d just mess it up again.

His black t-shirt is slightly stretched from his movement, and as he shifts to grab another drink, you catch a glimpse of the chain hanging loosely around his neck. It glints in the dim light, you gaze down to the sharp line of his jaw to his exposed collarbones.

You try to look away, but every movement he makes seems deliberate, as if he's doing it on purpose.

“PLEASE! LAST ROUND, PLEASE!!” Hoshi’s voice rings out, exaggerated and dramatic, dragging you back into the room. Mingyu chuckles, his lips curling into that effortless smirk.

“Alright, let him have another round,” he says, voice deep and calm, a little too calm, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second.

It’s enough.

Your heart stutters. You’re hyper-aware of everything. He rolls his sleeves up, just slightly, as he takes another drink. The biceps of his arm flex as he lifts his glass, you can see the veins along his forearm. It’s suddenly so warm in here and you can feel the way it pulls you closer even though you haven’t moved an inch.

He doesn't need to try. He just is.

He knows it, too.

“YAAA!! THIS CAN’T BE!!” Hoshi wails, the chaos pulling you out of the moment. His controller crashes to the floor in exaggerated despair.

You sigh, laughing despite yourself, the sound escaping your lips like a small release. For a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been thickening the air all night finally breaks, but it lingers—just out of reach. Your eyes flicker to Mingyu, and in that instant, you catch him. Staring at you. Not just a glance, but a look that lingers.

He’s watching you, watching the way you sit there—knees on the floor, bare legs beneath you. But it’s not just the way you’re sitting, it’s the way his shirt clings to your skin, your posture, your eyes, your lips... everything about you seems to pull him in. His thoughts begin to drift, and before he can stop them, his mind’s running down a path he knows he shouldn’t be on.

No, he thinks. Not again.

He drags a hand over his face and thunks his head back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. He exhales slowly, a forced calm. Focus, Mingyu.

He can’t afford another hard-on tonight. Not with everyone around.

But he knows. You both know it.

It’s going to be a long, torturous night after all. And it isn’t ending anytime soon.

02:46

Hours have slipped by, blurred by laughter and the bitter tang of alcohol on your tongue. The room is warm, dimly lit,—half-empty glasses, crumpled snack bags, the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background.

You’re exhausted, but wired. The kind of tired where everything feels a little too slow, a little too heavy.

A soft snore interrupts your thoughts.

You turn your head. Hoshi, sprawled out across the couch, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world.

You blink. "Well. There he goes."

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh across from you, tilting his head toward the couch. "Took him long enough."

"It’s always him," you mutter, shaking your head.

"It was Wonwoo first."

"Wonwoo doesn’t count. He chooses sleep."

Mingyu grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, his dark, tousled hair—slightly messy from the long night—falls over his forehead, the dim light catches the sharp line of his jaw and suddenly, you’re aware that its just the two of you now. The laughter fades, leaving something quieter in its place.

And then it happens.

That look.

Mingyu leans his head back against the couch, watching you in that way that makes your stomach twist. His gaze is dark, unreadable, and smirking. you feel it—lingering too long on your face, dropping to your lips.

He’s fucking smirking at you.

Like you guys didnt kiss each other just hours ago.

Your breath catches. Heat pools in your stomach, climbs up your spine, wraps around your throat until your face burns. It’s impossible to ignore the way your body reacts to him, impossible not to remember the way he felt pressed against you, the way he almost—

No.

You need to move. You need to do something—anything—to break the tension before it swallows you whole.

So you stand up.

Quickly. Too quickly. You busy yourself with the mess on the table, grabbing empty glasses, snack wrappers—anything to keep your hands occupied, your mind distracted. You can still feel his gaze pressing into you, following your every movement like a weight on your skin. So you just move yourself to the kitchen. Yeah, that damn kitchen.

To escape. To escape him.

But of course, he follows you.

You focus on the counter, setting things down with a little too much force. You reach for an empty glass, then hesitate, frowning. Where does this go again? You open a random cabinet. Wrong one. You try another. Wrong again.

Mingyu leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you struggle. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes your fingers itch to touch.

"Need help?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

You find the right cabinet—finally—but as you reach up to place the glass inside, it slips. Not enough to fall, but enough for Mingyu to react.

He leans in slightly, voice lower now. "You seem a little distracted."

You exhale sharply, setting the glass down before you drop it for real. "I’m fine."

He hums, unconvinced.

Silence settles between you. Mingyu doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. Instead, he watches you—closely. His gaze lingers as you slowly place the glass in the cabinet, like he’s studying every movement, every flicker of hesitation. You feel it—his eyes, the weight of his attention pressing into your skin.

"You’re bad at this, you know," he murmurs.

"At what?"

"At pretending."

Your pulse stumbles.

"I’m not pretending," you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be.

He laughs teasingly, not really believing you.

"You’re also bad at drinking games," he teases, his voice low, laced with something deeper. He leans against the counter, too close. "Honestly surprised you’re still standing."

You roll your eyes, feigning confidence. "It takes a lot to get me down." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin. "I’m not even that drunk, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

He steps closer.

No. Please, no.

You almost whine.

Not again. Not when you’re still weak from earlier. Not when you still feel the ghost of his breath on your skin, the way he nearly kissed you, the way he almost had you.

You swallow hard, nodding—but it’s weak, almost shaky. And he notices.

"So, you weren’t really that drunk yesterday? Was all of that just an act?"

His skin glows under the kitchen light, sweat dampening his forehead, his neck. His lips are pinker than before, and when he tilts his head slightly, your knees almost give in.

“I dont know what you mean- I-" Your voice falters, and you curse yourself for how obvious it is. He's always been able to read you, hasn't he?

He smirks. But he knows it all too well. Without touching you, he moves. His presence alone pulls you backward, guiding your body against the counter. You find yourself pressed against the edge, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn't touch you, but it feels as if he’s controlling every inch of your movement.

Finally, his gaze softens, but the intensity remains. He reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, the touch light but electric, sending a shiver through you. “Your cheeks are giving you away,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. “Mingyu, stop.” you whisper, as you push against his chest, it causes him to step back, just a little. His arm wraps around yours, pulling you right back into him. The movement is fast, and before you can fully react, you’re pressed against him—your chest against his, your breath shallow as you’re forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

He exhales, voice deep, teasing, but his eyes betray him. "Why? you’re not gonna ask me to stay this time? Not gonna ask me to sleep with you?"

"I don’t even remember what I—"

"But I do."

He doesn’t let you go.

He leans in, hand ghosting along your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize it. His warmth seeps into your skin, into your bones, unraveling something inside you.

“You were looking at me like this,” he murmurs, forehead resting lightly against yours. “Exactly like this.”

You can feel every word against your skin. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“Mingyu, I—”

“You held me here.” He traces your hand over his chest, down his abs, his touch slow, deliberate. “You asked me to stay, told me not to leave”, a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers that moment. “Shit, I thought you were fucking with me.”

Your throat goes dry, a tightness spreading through you as his nose brushes against yours.

“You said please,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. He slowly pushes you against the counter.

“Say it again" he whispers, the word coming out like a plea, thick with want, yearning—almost as if he's asking to kiss you.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s barely a sound—more breath than voice—but it carries everything. A plea. A need. Like he’s not just asking for a kiss, but for permission to fall apart in your hands.

Your chest tightens. Your fingers move before your thoughts can catch up, curling around the back of his neck, drawing him in even though you’re already impossibly close.

His breath hitches at the movement, eyes locking with yours. And there, in the quiet space between heartbeats, he knows.

Then he kisses you.

Soft at first. Barely there. It’s slow, careful—his lips brushing yours, like he’s learning the shape of you through every careful pass.

Then again—deeper this time. More sure.

His hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you, steadying you, like he can't pull away even if he wanted to. He hums against your lips, a soft relief, like he's been waiting for this. And he was.

But the moment his mind catches up with the taste of you—he’s lost.

The kiss turns desperate, all softness bleeding into something needier. Like if he stops, even for a second, it might all slip away.

Your hands are everywhere—roaming, exploring. He nudges you gently until your back hits the counter, the edge cool against your spine. Your palms press to the surface behind you, steadying yourself as the bottles shift and clink under your touch.

“Mingyu—”

“No—”,he’s already kissing you again.

Your protest is cut off, swallowed by his mouth, his kiss harder now. Like he’s trying to erase every reason not to.

His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing in, grounding himself in you. His chest brushes yours, heart pounding.

“We should—” he exhales, his voice cracking, his lips barely leaving yours. “We should stop, right?”

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath, brushing against the skin of his stomach. He’s warm, feverish beneath your touch.

“Yeah,” you breathe, lips still brushing his, “they—hmh-they could come in…”

Shit. He knows. He really fucking knows. But he’s too far in. He should stop—he knows that. But how’s he supposed to do that? When you're looking at him like that? He tried to be good. He really did. But with you like this? He’s already too far gone.

“Mmh,” he exhales, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We should stop before...”

But even as he says it, his hands slide down, fingertips grazing your thigh. He looks at you, like he’s checking—like he needs to make sure. And the way you're staring back? He gets his answer.

He lifts your leg onto the counter. The bottles clink next you, sharp and loud in the quiet, like a reminder of where you are but —

“Yes—mmh—we should stop before anyone—”

But then he hums, low and rough, as his hand moves to your chest. Fingers glide up, brushing over your breast, and your breath stutters.

“We should… fuck-” His voice trembles. “Go to sleep.”

He’s trying. God, he’s trying.

But his mind is lost in you. Like he’s clinging to every thread of control he has left.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, breathless. Your hand slides under his shirt again, feeling the way he trembles under your touch.

“I should go to sleep…”, you smile to yourself.

“Yes- We should go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his shirt.

You watch his skin glows golden under the dim lamp, and when he runs a hand through his hair—black strands sticking up in every direction—you almost loose it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but damn.

He takes your hands, places them on his chest, his abs—letting you feel him. And then he kisses you again.

“Shit,” he breathes. “I can’t… I can’t fucking stop.”

You're still on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, even as his hands slide up, cupping your tits, grazing the edge of your bra, his mouth finding your neck.

“Fuck— Mingyu,” you moan, soft but breathless.

“Don’t do that,” he groans. “-Fuck.”

You tug off your shirt, and he just stares for a second.

Out of breath, hair a mess, half-dressed. This—this is what he dreamed about for far too long.

You reach for his belt, pulling him back in.

“We can’t be loud,” you whisper. “Be quiet, Mingyu.”

He smirks like you’ve just dared him. Like being quiet is a challenge.

He kisses you hard, pressing his dick against you—exactly where you want him. You moan into his mouth, hands in his hair, kissing him like this might be the last time. Because maybe it is.

He trails kisses down your neck, then your chest—his mouth warm over your bra, licking and sucking. You feel everything, but it’s not enough. You need more.

“Mingyu, don’t—don’t tease.”

“We can’t be loud, right?” he smirks to himself. You whine in response.

One hand cups your breast while the other runs across his lips, tasting you . You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet every moan that threatens to slip. His hands are so big on you, his mouth so unbelievably good.

You pull him back to your lips, needing to feel him—needing to let those moans escape where only he can hear them.

“More,” you breathe, your hand drifting lower, palming him through his pants.

The alcohol is blurring your filter, but you don’t care. You want him.

Still, he doesn’t give in. Not fully. Not yet.

He kisses you deeper—your lips, your throat—grinding against you like he’s losing control. Like you’re the one driving him insane. He thinks he’s teasing you, but maybe he’s torturing himself just as much.

You dig your nails into his back, kissing along his shoulder. The intimacy of it gives you goosebumps, sets your skin on fire.

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands go to his belt, fingers working it open as your eyes meet his.

“Shit,” he exhales. Mingyu shakes his head “Not here.”

“Not here?” you whisper, almost whining.

His hands find your waist again, sliding lower, between your legs.

His fingers are a little cold, and the touch makes you gasp.

“Mingyu-”

“Spread your legs for me,” he says lowly, never breaking eye contact.

You do.

He moves slowly at first, teasing your clit, eyes locked on every little reaction your face gives away.

Your mouth parts open slightly, breath hitching.

“Hm? That sensitive?” he asks, speeding up just a little.

A soft moan slips from your lips as you grip his arms, trying to steady yourself.

And then his finger slides inside.

Then another.

While his thumb keeps working your clit, making you lose your mind.

“You like seeing my hands between your legs?” he rasps, still watching you.

You can’t even look away—neither of you can.

He kisses you, and you moan right into his mouth.

“You like the way that feels?” he asks. “So wet for me already…”

You try not to, but his names slips out of your mouth.

“Shit. Didn’t we talk about being quiet?”, voice low, watching you all desperate and squirming under his touch.

And you can feel it building—right there, right under his fingers.

“Fuck, yeah. Like this”, he whispers. You’re so close.

His fingers move just right—fast, precise, relentless—and your body can’t take it anymore. It hits you all at once. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as the orgasm rolls through you.

He doesn’t stop until you're done—his fingers slow down, helping you through it, letting you ride it out as your whole body shudders against him.

Then he kisses you—soft, almost sweet, lips warm and slow. You melt into it, dizzy, still catching your breath.

He smiles into the kiss, smug as hell. “You think they heard you?”

You smack his chest, face burning, and he just laughs—loud, unbothered—and gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s nothing.

“Time to sleep,” he says, all casual, like he didn’t just make you fall apart on the kitchen counter.

You’re still dazed, legs weak, not even trying to get up when he picks up your clothes. And just as you’re wondering what now, he lifts you—hands under your thighs and back—carrying you.

You bury your face in his neck, skin still warm, and you can feel him chuckling, chest shaking under your cheek.

He carries you into your room, setting you down on the bed,you lean back on your elbows, chest rising and falling, still hazy from your high—but your eyes are locked on him. The soft light from the hallway hits his skin just right. His abs flex as he moves, still shirtless, just his jeans hanging low on his hips.

You're supposed to be tired. You’re supposed to be done.

But your body says otherwise.

He notices your stare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, almost flustered, but that smirk is back.

“Like you want more. You know I lose control when you do that.”

You lean forward, lips brushing into a small, wicked smile. “Hm, really?”

He curses under his breath.

You shift onto your knees, crawling closer to where he’s standing by the bed, teasing, until you’re eye level with his lips. You watch him closely, deliberately. His eyes darken, flickering down to your mouth.

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters.

“I’m just being like always,” you say, like it’s innocent—but the way you graze your fingers over his belt says otherwise.

He laughs, low and rough. “You’re impossible.”

Then he kisses you, hard, like he’s finally letting go again.

Your hands move lower, reaching for him, cupping him as you finally try to undo his belt. But he gently brushes your hands away, shaking his head.

“Mhh, no,” he says against your lips, voice deep and determined. “I’m not done with you.”

His hand finds your waist, guiding you back down to the bed without breaking the kiss. You sigh into it, helpless under his touch.

Mingyu slips off your bra, he trails kisses down your collarbone, your chest—slow. His mouth lingers on your breasts, lips and tongue teasing. You’re biting back a moan when he lightly sucks on your nipple. His other hand slides lower, down your side, until it reaches your hips. You gasp as his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, watching every flicker of your expression like it’s something he doesn’t want to miss. Like he’s imprinting it in his mind.

Then he kisses lower—over your stomach, your hips your inner thighs. His lips brush every part of you except where you want him most. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and it’s driving you insane.

You breathe in sharply when his mouth finally finds you. His tongue moves in slow, careful circles over your clit, your fingers already tangling in the sheets. He’s gentle at first, like he’s still learning, but his confidence grows fast. And it’s not just skill—it’s the way he pays attention. The way he listens to every sound you make, every breath you take He groans into you, like he needs it just as badly.

You can barely focus. Your thoughts are scattered. All you know is heat. His tongue. That pressure building again, way too fast.

You peek down at him, and the sight almost ruins you. His eyes are half-lidded, completely focused —locked on yours. His brows slightly furrowed like he’s concentrating, feeling you, not just tasting. His grip tightens on your thighs as you move, and he groans against you—fuck, he’s into it.

And in his head? He’s losing it.

This is all he ever wanted.

He’d dreamed about this—too many nights, too many times imagining what you'd sound like, taste like, how you’d fall apart under his mouth. But none of it compares to this—flushed, needy, eyes fluttering, mouth open with every breathy moan. And the way you say his name?

Yeah, he’s gone.

He’s so mad at himself—mad that he waited this long, mad that he let you be so close for so long without touching you like this. But right now? He’s making up for it.

He presses your thighs open wider, groaning at the way you react. His tongue starts to move faster now, rougher, more deliberate. Circling, sucking, teasing. You whimper his name—desperate, breathless—and he loves it. Every moan you try to bite back just makes him go harder.

“Mingyu—fuck—” you breathe, legs trembling under his grip.

And he just hums into you in response, lips curved, like he’s proud of the way you fall apart for him all over again.

He slips a finger inside you, and your back arches, a loud gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. You glance down—his mouth still on you, tongue still moving—and you can see it.

That smug little smile.

You actually want to slap him for it. But God, it feels so good. Too good.

You shove your finger between your lips, biting down hard, because otherwise you'd be moaning his name.

Trying to not wake anyone. But he makes it impossible. His finger curls just right, finding that spot that makes your whole body clench, and then—

A second finger. Thicker. Deeper. You cry out into your arm, hand flying to his hair, gripping hard—more for your sanity than his guidance.

This isn’t what you had in mind when you got drunk last night—but fuck, you’re not complaining.

“Mingyu—I’m going to—”

You can barely get the words out, voice all shaky. He pulls back just a little, breath heavy against your thigh, fingers still pumping into you slow and deep, while looking at you in your eyes.

“Not yet,” he says, voice low, but wrecked. “Just a little longer, please?”

You want to curse at him, cry, beg—but all that comes out is a desperate whine. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut.

You need it.

But he knows that. He wants you right there. He wants to watch you fall apart again—and know it’s him doing it to you.

His fingers speed up, more precise now, like he knows exactly how much you can take. His tongue’s back on you—licking, moaning with you, vibrating against you.

And when he lifts your legs up, resting them on his broad shoulders—you can’t take it anymore.

Your whole body clenches. The heat crashes over you so fast it steals your breath. Your hands still tangled in his hair as he stays with you till wave ends.

He doesn’t let go. He holds you through it, still licking you soft and slow, humming gently like he’s calming you down from a high only he could give.

He smiles to himself, then leans in to kiss you again—slow, deep. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him back. your body’s still buzzing, but God, you're tired.

Eventually, he lets himself drop back onto the bed beside you, one arm flung lazily over his eyes. You're both breathing hard, skin warm and flushed.

“You tired?” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse.

You hum, eyes still closed. “Yes… but no.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to peek at you from under his arm. “What kinda answer is that?”

You giggle softly, brain still foggy. “You?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously drive me insane. I was tense the whole damn day… like some fucking college kid with a crush.”

You smile to yourself. “Oh yeah? You deserved it. You made me wait long enough.”

He lifts his head, resting on his elbows now, eyebrows raised. “I made you wait?Are you kidding? I was trailing after you like a damn dog for months. Everyone saw it. Everyone. Except for— you. They made fun of me. Hoshi even gave me names. He called me a puppy!”

“You didn’t do anything either!” you shoot back. “And it’s not my fault—you’re nice to everyone!”

“Yeah, but…” he pauses, and you can feel something shift in the air between you. You look at him, waiting for ending the sentence.

“I’m only in love with you.”

The words are soft. Steady. No hesitation, no teasing this time. And it hits you. Your heart stutters—you look at him, searching his face, trying to read the truth in his eyes. He meant it. Every word.

Your lips part, but no answer comes. Not yet. Instead, your gaze drops—his chest still rising fast, the muscles of his stomach tense, his jeans still unbuttoned, the bulge beneath his boxers so obvious now.

A slow smile curls on your lips.

“You waited that long?”, drawing the word out, fingers drifting low on his stomach.

He groans, tossing his arm back over his face. “Don’t mock me.”

You lean in. “What did they call you again?” Your hand cups him through his boxers—he’s already hard.

He lets out a long breath through his nose, biting back a curse.

“Stop playing…” he mutters, but it’s weak—he doesn’t really mean it.

Your voice dips lower. “Did Hoshi call you a puppy?”

“Mhm— a puppy in love, he said.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. He’s hot, thick, and already leaking. He groans—sharp and low.

“Fuck—don’t tease—”

You pull down his jeans and boxers in one slow motion, freeing his cock. He twitches in your hand.

“So much pre-cum…” you say. “Were you really about to cum in your pants, Gyu?”

He laughs at himself, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, yes—almost.”

You bite your lip, your hand moving slow at first, teasing. His breath catches. “Shit—I’m sensitive.”

You watch the way his expression shifts—brows knit together, lips parting, chest rising quicker with every breath.

“Don’t—ahh—your hands…” he groans, voice breaking around the words.

You go a little faster. His hips twitch. A breathless moan slips from his lips and he grabs at the sheets.

“What if I..” You lean in, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. You give a soft lick, just once—just to see.

“Shit— cant you just—” he gasps, jaw clenched tight.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so loud,” you whisper. “What if they hear you like this?”

He lets out a desperate sound, biting down on his fist, like that’ll help.��

You smirk, finally taking him into your mouth—slow, deep, with deliberate pressure. His whole body jerks.

He’s trying to hold back. He doesn’t even dare to look at you. Because if he does—if he watches your lips wrapped around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, your head moving slow and steady—he’ll lose it. Completely.

You suck him deeper, your lips wrapped tight, tongue tracing every inch. He’s so responsive, so sensitive, every little flick making him twitch in your mouth. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and the soft, ragged sounds coming from his throat only make you want more.

“Shit—” he gasps, a hand reaching down, not to push you away—but to ground himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding.

You glance up. His head’s tossed back, lips parted.

He tries to hold still. Tries not to fuck up into your mouth. But the way you’re working him—slow, then fast, then slow again—it’s driving him insane.

And then suddenly—

“Wait—fuck, baby—stop.”

You try to understand why he pulled away—lips still parted, his length heavy in your hand—and then you hear it. Footsteps. The faint creak of the bathroom door down the hall. Someone’s awake.

instead of stopping, you stroke him—slow, deliberate—watching his eyes flutter, jaw clench tight.

“Shit, baby…” he whispers, voice tight, “I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna—”

You lean up, cutting him off with a kiss. A soft hush. You don’t want him too loud either. But he’s still so hard, throbbing in your hand, and the way he kisses you back—messy and desperate—tells you how badly he’s struggling.

He sits up slowly, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into his lap like he can’t help it. You settle over him, straddling, still bare, your pussy brushing his cock. The friction makes you both gasp—his tip slides right against your folds, wet and hot and so wrong. So good.

“Fuck—” he groans into your mouth. “Baby, your pussy… it's—shit—it’s right there.”

“I know,” you whisper, lips brushing his. You roll your hips, letting his cock glide through your slick folds, not quite inside, but enough to make him lose his breath. “But we’re not having sex, right?”

His hands squeeze your hips tighter, trying to steady you, but you keep grinding—slow, delicious pressure. His cock slides over your clit just right, making you both shiver.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes.

“But you like it,” you whisper against his jaw, biting it gently.

“Fuck baby, I love it. You feel—mhm—fuck.” He’s unraveling beneath you, hips jerking up once, just barely.

You smirk and keep going. Little circles. Little rocks of your hips. You moan quietly, lips brushing his ear. “What if I came like this? Just from grinding on your cock?”

“Dont fucking talk like that. Shit—”

And then he says it—low, strained, breathless:

“Just the tip?” He meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper. “It wouldn’t count… right?”

The smirk on your lips falters when you feel him shift beneath you. He looks at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. His tone drops lower—deeper, more confident now. “Say yes.”

You nod. That’s all he needs.

He pulls you down—slowly—just enough to push the head of his cock inside. You gasp at the stretch, at how thick he feels, even like this. He holds you there, both of you trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

You whimper, but before you can speak, he moves. He rocks his hips up—just once, shallow, purposeful. Enough to make you cry out and cling to him.

He chuckles, quiet and low. “Told you. Just the tip, and already look at you…”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he loves it.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, guiding your hips slowly, letting you feel all of him without giving you everything. “Look at you. So desperate to be full, huh?”

You nod again, helpless. “Please…”

He tilts your chin up, kissing you softly—then deeper, filthier. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He hums, leaning back to look at you. “Then ask me.”

You swallow hard, but your mouth stays shut, lips parted, breath shallow. You know what he wants to hear— but something in you won’t give it to him that easily. Not yet.

“Hm?” he says softly, eyes narrowing with the hint of a smirk. “No?”

His hands slide down your sides, slow and sure. He shifts his hips under you—just the head of his cock still buried inside, pulsing—and rolls them up ever so slightly. Just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers trailing over your clit in featherlight circles. You jerk forward instinctively, gasping.

“Fuck—Mingyu—”

“Still not asking,” he mutters, almost amused, his voice thick with restraint.

He keeps circling, teasing—soft, slow, maddening. At the same time, he rocks his hips again, just a little, dragging himself barely an inch deeper inside you. Your body clenches down, desperate for more.

You whimper, hands braced on his chest, trying not to completely melt. He’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every shaky breath.

His free hand grips your ass, guiding you into a slow, lazy grind against him. The friction makes your head spin—you can feel the tip of his cock pressing right there, and his fingers still working you, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore.

You try to hold on—but your body betrays you, chasing the rhythm, chasing more. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your pride holds them back just a moment longer.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll keep going like this all night,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like this. Teasing you. Keeping you full, but never enough. Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” you breathe, almost a sob. Your legs are shaking now, your whole body aching.

“Say it,” he whispers. You break. You can’t take it anymore.

“Please—Mingyu—fuck me.”

And the second those words leave your mouth, his expression shifts—something deeper, darker flashes in his eyes.

He grabs your waist with both hands and sinks you down onto him in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping his name, your body going taut.

“There you go,” he breathes, his voice strained, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you take me so well.”

You’re panting, hips rolling instinctively, but he slows you down with a firm grip.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you like this. Just… stay here a second.”

You can feel him pulsing inside you, his hands roaming your back, your hips, your thighs like he’s trying to memorize every part of you. He presses kisses to your neck, slow and hot.

Then he starts to move—hips snapping up, controlled, deep. Not rough, but precise. He watches your face the whole time, eyes flicking down to your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside you.

“You feel me right there?” he growls against your ear. “Right where you needed it?”

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, your voice broken.

“Tell me,” he urges, his tone softer now, coaxing. “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“So good—fuck, so deep—Mingyu—”

He kisses you again, grinning into it, just a little cocky now that you’re coming apart in his hands. His pace quickens, your moans slipping free with every thrust, louder, needier.

And then he stills, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Ride me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Let me watch you.”

You bite your lip, breath shaky, but you shift your weight and begin to move—slow at first, dragging your hips in circles, rolling against him. He groans, loud, his head tipping back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you from beneath messy strands of hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Just like that—fuck—look at you.”

You start to bounce, the rhythm building as his hands slide down to your hips, helping, guiding, squeezing. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, filthy and wet and perfect. You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop grinding down onto him—because he’s so deep, and you’re so full, and it’s too much.

You’re close. You can feel it coiling deep in your stomach.

“I—Gyu—I’m—” You don’t even finish. Your body seizes up, every muscle tightening as you cry out his name and fall apart around him, shaking, pulsing, gasping.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers, his voice wrecked. “Cum for me. Right here, right on my cock.”

He’s right there with you—watching you fall apart around him has him unraveling, too. His fingers tighten at your waist, jaw clenched, a desperate groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, I can’t hold it—”

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, still trembling, your voice barely more than a whimper. You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and warm, and the plea in your voice pushes him right over the edge.

With a broken moan of your name, he buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, his face tucked into your neck, breath shaky and warm against your skin.

For a while, neither of you moves. There’s just the sound of your heartbeats, the rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your jaw. Then your lips—soft, lingering. You both smile into it, drunk on the closeness.

As the haze starts to fade, you shift your hips, starting to lift off him gently.

But his arms tighten, holding you in place.

“No,” he murmurs, half-pleading. “I wanna stay inside you a little longer.”

You sink back down with a quiet laugh, and he whimpers.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m still sensitive…”

You smile, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead and kiss the mole on the tip of his nose. He blinks up at you, wide-eyed and flushed—and then he just starts to laugh. His hair is a wreck, his lips still kiss-bruised, and his collarbone is marked where you bit him earlier. But it’s his eyes that undo you—bright and crinkled at the corners.

You laugh too, even if you’re not sure why. “What?” you ask, grinning.

He shakes his head, still smiling like he can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m a fucking puppy in love.”

a/n: it’s done!! finally. i’m so sorry for making you guys wait this long, but i’m actually really happy with how it turned out. i hope you like it just as much as i do ⭑.ᐟ thank you so much for waiting patiently—your comments were seriously the sweetest and so, so kind. ⋆.˚

fun fact about the whole “jealousy” story: this actually started out as a completely different story. i was inspired by that one gif of mingyu at the gym, and had this whole plot in mind… but then i realized it needed some context to make sense, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into this. so yeah, that’s why san’s little cameo feels kinda random 😭 BUT i’m thinking of turning that original idea into a bonus part for this one instead...would you want to read it?? let me know in the comments, in my dms, wherever—i’d love to hear from you!!

love youuuu xoxo ౨ৎ

My cute little 🏷️ taglist:

@wseye @wooahaeivy @dinow13 @httpscoco444 @jihoonsbbygirl @tigersandcherries @souleater440 @gyuldaengie97 @potayaa @mmingooo @ninigyuuu @littlewolfieposts @amingo046 @saturnesposts @starsewl @saltyfriendsaladbandit @imhwajaez @perfectlycleverface @chykyu @gohyemi @baekhyunimochibbh @gh0stprinceess @holyfestfire @id7lso @zimzalaminho @hellosighsophy-blog @my-woozi @sumeyyetuna

Honorable tag: @maplegyu

thank you for enjoying my fic and supporting me! It means a lot!

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retrosabers · 6 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: when you wake up sick on your favorite day of the year, logan tries his hand at a romantic gesture

OR the time logan howlett gave you the best at home halloween you could ask for

contains: so!! much!! fluff!! soft logan, friends to lovers, some angst, mentions of past trauma, reader has telekinetic powers, kissing, swearing

!! there’s a scene in here inspired by “room for rent” by @hauntedhowlett-writes ! go check out their amazing work !!

word count: 5.5k (i got insanely carried away)

a/n: sorry for this little period of inactivity!! i’ve been feeling under the weather and lacking some inspiration and motivation, but luckily i think i’ve got my groove back! i hope you all have a happy halloween & enjoy this sweet story of everyone’s favorite wolvie <3

mutant feelings on halloween were fairly divided.

it was a love or hate kind of thing. many viewed the holiday as a hypocritical mockery; how could humans be so outward in their distaste for mutants while dedicating an entire day to parading around as the very creatures they despised? others, like yourself, saw it as a joyful occasion. a day where everyone could be as authentically themselves as they wanted to be, and not get judged for it.

safe to say, it was your favorite holiday. something you looked forward to every year, especially since you never really got the opportunity to properly celebrate it growing up.

you had the whole day planned out for weeks. your costume decided far before that. much like how a child felt on christmas eve, you felt a similar excitement and anticipation building within you on the night of october 30th.

but it would appear the powers at large weren’t feeling too generous. because at a little bit past 8, your throat started feeling scratchy.

it was easy to blame it on the changing weather, maybe some seasonal allergies if you were feeling particularly delusional. you knew exactly how your body behaved when you were feeling sick, and it always started with a sore throat. still, you snuggled under the blanket in hopes that it would pass by morning.

by the time the sun rose, your nose was blocked and it felt like you were swallowing glass.

so much for a happy halloween.

you stumble out of your room in sweatpants and a cardigan, significantly less presentable than your normal attire. all you wanted was to stay in bed, but there was a group of young students that weren’t going to teach themselves. so you dragged yourself from the comfort of your cocoon, splashed some cold water on your face, and hoped you looked presentable enough.

the glimpse you catch of yourself in the mirror on the way out didn’t appear very promising. it seems your suspicions are confirmed when a familiar face spots you.

“you look like hell,” logan calls from the other end of the hallway. he makes his way over to you in long swift strides, the heavy sound of his boots echoing in the rather quiet space.

“sure feel like it too,” you utter back weakly, your voice hoarse and tired. unexpectedly, the back of his palm presses gently against your forehead, a crease forming between his brows when he feels how warm you are.

“jesus, you’re burning up.”

“funny, because i’m absolutely freezing,” you croak, wrapping your sweater tightly around your body to prove your point. when you suddenly sneeze, everything in the hallway shakes. from the paintings on the walls, to the vases on tables scattered about. you flush in embarrassment and logan frowns.

he places his hand on the small of your back, nudging you in the direction of your bedroom door.

“logan, i have a class to teach,” you argue weakly, followed by a nasty sounding cough.

“you can’t teach them anything if you’re like this the whole time bub.”

silence on your end, because you know he’s right. you just hate caving when you’re feeling under the weather, always trying your hardest to persevere. especially, on today of all days.

“but it’s halloween,” you counter with a whine, on the verge of pouting because you were so annoyed and fed up. “i had a fun lesson about edgar allan poe planned.”

“had the whole damn day planned,” you huff to yourself, though you should’ve known logan’s enhanced hearing would catch it.

he shoots you a sympathetic glance, unlocking the door and motioning you inside.

“i know,” he soothes you with the rubbing of his thumb against the base of your spine. “maybe if you get some rest now, you’ll feel better later, yeah?”

you sigh, flopping onto your mattress dramatically.

“i suppose you’re right.”

logan chuckles at your grumbling against the bedsheets. he makes his way over to you again, brushing away the hair that was stuck to your forehead. crouching down, he presses the sweetest kiss against your temple, and his heart swells at the tired little smile you give him.

“i’ll come back to check on you in a bit,” he promises. “in the meantime, you try and get some shut eye.”

you nod from your position against the pillows, eyes already fluttering shut in hopes that maybe logan was right. you’d feel better in a few hours, and today could be saved after all. in your mind, you were optimistic.

your body, however, had other plans.

before it was even noon, you went through a whole box of tissues, and sneezed so hard and violently that it damn near shook the whole entire floor. any glimmer of hope for getting better was snuffed out quickly, meaning you’d be a prisoner to this bed until you got better in a few days.

when logan came back to check on you, he was surprised to see the state of your bedroom. the usually clean, tidy space was ridden with tissues, your comforter was on the floor, and everything hanging on the wall had been turned every which way. and to top it all off, you were curled on the side of your bed, sniffling with washed out cheeks and a bright red nose.

“do not, say i look like shit,” you warn him, though you lack any sort of intimidation. logan shoots his hands up in defense from his place in the doorway.

“wasn’t planning on it.”

you open one eye and raise an eyebrow.

the corner of his lip turns up in a smirk. “i was going to say your room looks like shit.”

one of your throw pillows feebly comes into contact with his head. not nearly as hard as you intended, but your powers were always a little out of wack whenever your immune system was.

“s’ not funny logan,” you squeak, fully peaking your head out from it’s place in your blanket burrito.

logan picks the pillow up from the floor, mindlessly tossing it between his hands as he walks towards your bed.

“you know i can’t help teasing you when you’re grumpy,” he jokes, coming to sit on the corner of your mattress.

“i’m grumpy because this is my favorite day of the year and i’m stuck in a purgatory of snot and mucus,” you groan. the pout on your face is unmistakable, and logan would think it was the cutest thing he’s ever seen if there wasn’t genuine sadness in your tone.

“why do you even like this stupid holiday so much anyways?” logan questions. it comes out a bit meaner than he wants it to, like he’s making fun of you. it only adds to your upset state, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“because it’s fun,” you bite. “especially when you’re a kid that never got to experience it until you became an adult. i do the same thing every year because it brings me comfort. people like us don't get a lot of that.”

logan knows how true that is better than anyone.

“plus it’s a day mutants don’t have to worry as much,” you continue. “we can be ourselves and it looks like we’re just blending in with everyone else.”

you mumble this last part with a glumness he’s never heard from you before.

“it’s like we’re normal.”

logan doesn’t say anything in rebuttal. he just nods his head in agreeance, letting your words sink in. he never thought about it that way, and a wave of guilt suddenly washes over him for not considering that your feelings about today ran deeper than he initially thought.

the sound of a pill bottle shaking snaps you from your wallowing. your eyes flick back to logan, who’s holding medicine in his free hand.

“stole these from the infirmary,” he gets up to place the bottle on your bedside table, picking up a few stray tissues and tossing them into the small trash can next to your bed. “figured you could use something to help you feel a little better.”

you croak out a “thanks” before that dreaded tickling in your nose starts again.

“oh no,” you whisper, bracing for impact. logan looks at you with a puzzled expression at the exact moment when you sneeze. the entire room shakes, sending the wolverine stumbling back a few paces. there’s a couple seconds of vibration afterwards before everything returns to normal.

after regaining his footing, logan makes a beeline for the bathroom. you hear the faucet running and he returns to you with a glass of water.

he nods at you wordlessly, head motioning back and forth between you and the cup. you sniffle as you shuffle yourself upright. you take the medicine without a word, letting the cold water soothe your irritated throat. logan’s eyes don’t leave your face the entire time. he stares at you with something unfamiliar, to both you, and to him. it makes a new kind of warmth coat your body, one that has little to do with your current state.

your relationship with logan was hard to explain. you weren’t quite lovers, and labeling what transpired between you as friendship didn’t feel adequate. friends surely didn’t kiss each other on the cheek, or occasionally doze on each other’s shoulder during long sleepless nights. it was so painfully obvious to everyone else that there was something between you two.

but knowing logan and his track record of emotional unavailability, you always doubted whether or not he really shared those feelings.

clearing his throat, he dissolves any buzz you were feeling. logan offers you a tight lipped smile before slowly backing away. there’s a part of you that misses the closeness already, but you shove it down.

“if you need anything else, you know where to find me,” he says quietly, his body halfway out the door.

you nod with tired eyes. “thanks again logan.”

he simply nods his head once more before shutting the door completely.

you slink back under the comfort of your blanket, allowing the weight of your own words to take their effect. today wasn’t just special because it was a way to heal your inner child. today was important to you because you could feel safe in a world that normally didn’t accept people like your family. people like you. as cliche as it sounded, it was the truth.

as you try to fall back to sleep, you can’t help but dramatically wonder if being sick today was the universe’s way of punishing you for your optimism. for believing there could ever come a time where people accepted mutants.

it was a silly notion that would have to be pried from your cold dead hands. because though you didn’t have much comfort, you always had hope.

when you succumb to the drowsiness, you dream of being a child that didn’t have to be locked away in a lab on all hallows eve.

the smell of cookie dough rouses you from slumber.

slowly, you come to, stretching out your tired limbs as you shrug off the blanket that was wrapped around your figure since this morning. you’re still tired, but the fatigue that burdened your body was much less than it was a few hours ago. the medicine that logan brought you had worked. you smile to yourself, remembering to thank him the next time you saw him.

orange light bathes your room in a sunkissed glow, signaling that the day is coming to an end. the disappointment from before creeps its way back in, a reminder that all your plans for today were a wash. you squint your eyes in the direction of your alarm clock, trying to make out the time.

6:37 pm.

it was still early enough that you could try and put on a movie at least. scott, jean, and ororo, were set to take all of the kids trick or treating around 6. you were supposed to be joining them, but from the stark silence that seeped in from under the door, it was clear they were already well on their way without you.

you know it's because you weren’t feeling well, but that didn’t make it sting any less. you stare at the costume hung over your desk chair, and suddenly it feels like you’re a little girl again, sad and disappointed because you couldn’t go out with all the other kids.

maybe next year, you tell yourself.

after a moment of self pity, it hits you just how gross you’re feeling. staying in bed all day always sounded good in theory, but in practice, it just made you feel like a slob. in a flash, you kick all the covers to the foot of the bed, making your way to the bathroom and stripping off your clothes as you went. you were in desperate need of a hot shower, a leg shave, the whole nine yards.

steam cakes the mirror with condensation, the soft sound of water trickling down the drain relaxing you almost immediately. you take your time washing the day away, letting the scalding hot droplets soothe your tired muscles. you stand beneath the stream until the water goes cold, shutting the shower off and reaching for a plush towel.

the cold air of your room erupts goosebumps on your skin. whether it was from the change in temperature, or the fact that your room was now completely back to normal, you’re not sure.

strange. you don’t recall hearing anyone enter. surely this much reorganizing would’ve created some noise, something audible over the sound of running water, but you can’t remember hearing the slightest peep.

you cling to the towel around your body like a lifeline, afraid someone was going to jump out from a corner and startle you. after a quick once over of the room, you accept the fact that it’s empty. your eyes settle on a set of clothes folded neatly on the corner of your bed.

your comfiest pajamas. an old baggy t-shirt with yellow and orange plaid pants.

too tired to question it, you slip them on without a second thought, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric against your skin. you felt more like yourself than you have all day.

the sweet aroma from before catches your attention again. no one was supposed to be here still, not anyone you’d expect to be baking anyways. curiosity gets the best of you, and you make your way out of your bedroom and down the main staircase to the kitchen.

the last thing you expect to see is logan howlett fussing over a tray of cookies.

he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. probably a swear word or two, given he looked frustrated and out of his element.

“what are you doing?” your voice manages to startle him, a first you have yet to see since logan arrived at the mansion.

the man scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, gesturing to the tray before him on the counter.

“i was uh,” he stumbles over his words. another logan first. “just pulling these out of the oven.”

you eye him mischievously. “since when do you bake?”

there’s a beat of awkward silence that passes while logan struggles to conjure up a logical answer. because no, he didn’t bake, not now, not ever in his life. but what’s the alternative? the much scarier conversation about his feelings?

from the knowing glint in your eye, it might just have to be the latter.

logan sighs. a sound of defeat, coupled with a flash of teeth. he leans back against the edge of the counter, thick arms folded across a broad chest.

“marie helped me put ‘em in,” he admits a bit sheepishly. “was afraid i’d burn the place down if i tried to do it myself.”

you laugh at the memory of scott storming into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher last month after logan tried to cook eggs. it sparks a fondness in your chest, connecting the dots as to why logan would go through all this trouble.

“i’m glad she stepped in before you could manage to start a fire,” you joke, stepping further into the kitchen. it grants you a better look at just how messy it was, from the flour sprinkled across countertops, to bowls thrown askew. your brows pull together in confusion, a question on the tip of your tongue before you turn in the direction of the common area.

your eyes nearly water at the sight.

the living room had been turned into a heaven of pillows and blankets, little tealights placed around the edge of the table in the center. there was a stack of movies nearly as tall as you sitting in the middle, and when you squint, you could make out a few of the titles.

a nightmare on elm street, hocus pocus, friday the 13th.

they were all your favorite halloween movies.

logan comes into your peripheral vision, carefully gauging your reaction with nervous eyes.

“what’s all this?” you breathe out, a surprised smile forming on your face. it brightens even more when you see how shy logan looks from his place against the wall.

“i know you were bummed that things didn’t go how you wanted today,” he speaks lowly, somewhat unsure of himself. it was almost heartwarming to see such a rugged, brooding man be so timid. clearly this was something way outside of his comfort zone.

and yet, he did all this for you.

he looks around the room, stalling on meeting your gaze out of nerves. when he finally does, there’s so much adoration, so much tenderness in your eyes that he’s overwhelmed by it.

it’s something so foreign to logan, but it feels so right. something that he’s unknowingly longed for, and now that he has it, he’s determined not to let it slip from his grasp.

he’s got a little bit of his regular confidence back now. it's evident in the way he straightens himself out, his natural smirk returning.

“figured this might cheer you up a bit.”

the warmth in your cheeks is inevitable. it always was whenever logan was around, but this felt different than your normal exchanges. you thought maybe you had been imagining the lingering touches and stolen glances, that you were a fool for thinking logan could reciprocate the feelings you harbored for him.

but as he stands before you, with a small bashful smile and hazel eyes filled with warmth, you know that it’s not one sided. never was, and never could be.

logan nearly falls over when you jump into his arms, his hands coming to wrap around your waist on instinct. the embrace is unexpected, but not unwelcome. once logan takes a second to get his bearings, his body relaxes and molds into yours, lifting you an inch or two off the ground as he envelops you fully. your own arms wrap around his neck, face buried in his shoulder as you take in the feeling that you’ve wondered about for so long.

“thank you,” you whisper against the fabric of his shirt, smiling into the worn material.

with his enhanced senses, logan can feel the rapid thrum of your heartbeat against his own. months and months of dancing around each other finally coming to a head. he gives you one final, tight squeeze before pulling away, though he makes no move to let go of your body.

when he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your knees feel like they might buckle.

“s’nothing much,” which was essentially logan speak for “i’d do everything in my power to keep you happy.”

you’re well aware that he’s not the best with expressing how he felt. but this simple, sweet gesture was worth more than any lengthy monologue in your book.

you catch him eyeing your mouth briefly, and you do the same, letting your mind travel to that familiar place of wondering. thinking about how his lips would feel against your own. how they would feel in other places. just as you find yourself leaning in, a kitchen timer buzzes, startling you both.

logan can’t hide his annoyance at the interruption, reluctantly removing himself from you to stop the incessant chiming.

“this damn thing,” he grumbles, shaking his head.

you stifle a laugh when he throws the timer back onto the counter a bit too harshly, sending it bouncing into a stray bowl.

deciding to take the reigns, you walk over and reach for his hand. logan’s eyes widen a bit at your outstretched palm, even more so at the confident grin you wear. he doesn’t hesitate to lock his hand in yours, trying his damndest to ignore the electricity he feels from such a small thing.

“come on,” you nod your head in the direction of the couch, playful sarcasm in your tone.

“we’ve only got all night.”

“i don’t see it.”

you whip your head in logan’s direction, shrieking out a “what?” as you look back at the tv screen.

“you look just like him,” you argue, leaning forward to grab a cookie from the plate he brought into the room. “it’s uncanny.”

logan laughs to himself, shaking his head at your antics. “you keep telling yourself that bub.”

as the credits of van helsing start to roll, you decide to try your hand at a bit of flirting.

“y’know, you should take that as a huge compliment,” you state, sinking further into the couch cushions.

logan raises a brow, taking a sip of his beer and experimentally scooting closer to you.

“and why’s that?”

you try to maintain your confidence, but logan doesn’t make it very easy. not when he’s a human furnace that’s inching into your space. not when he already makes you warm in the face in nearly every situation.

clearing your throat, you shrug a shoulder, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

“i had a huge crush on him growing up. thought he was super hot.”

oh. if this is the game you’re playing, logan knows for sure he’ll win.

“really?” he exaggerates, placing his arm on the back of the couch. the tips of his fingers brush against your shoulder, and he relishes in the goosebumps they create.

“mhm,” you hum, eyes not wavering from the screen. “you should be super flattered right now.”

logan chuckles again, reaching for a cookie of his own. he decides he’ll space out his teasing, be a bit generous. you were in a poor position right now, still being a little sick and all.

he’d much prefer to see you really keep up with him anyways. still, he can’t help himself.

“whatever you say darlin’,” he murmurs.

your breath hitches ever so slightly.

jesus christ it feels like this couch is on fire.

you can see his smirk out of the corner of your eye, and you feel like a schoolgirl over the way that one simple word was making you feel so giddy. tucking your legs underneath your body, you shift more to your side so you were now fully facing logan.

as you take in your surroundings, from the coziness of the living room, to the beauty of the man beside you, the inquiry that’s been floating around your head for the past couple hours falls from your lips.

“how did you even know all of this?” you question him while biting the head off of one of the bat cookies.

“know all of what?” he repeats, half of his mouth filled with cookie dough.

“that this is what i do,” you gesture to the television screen and the plate that was sitting on the table. “movies and cookies, specifically these, every single year?”

logan feigns realization, despite knowing what you meant the first time you asked. he was just too self conscious to explain the reason why. his coyness from earlier returns, the apples of his cheeks showing a tinge of pink.

“overheard you talking with ororo a couple days ago,” he begins, sliding his palms over the expanse of his denim clad thighs. “about the movie thing and stuff.”

you think back to that conversation with vague memory. you recall discussing your halloween plans, but never diving into such specifics.

logan answers your next question before you can utter it.

“i asked her this morning what all your favorite things were.” he clears his throat a bit awkwardly. “i wanted to do something once i realized you were sick.”

he trails off, not sure if he should venture into this territory again after his remark from earlier. he moves around so his position mirrors yours, making you both unable to avoid each other’s faces.

“i didn’t mean to be a dick before,” he starts to apologize. you know it’s taking a lot for him to admit his faults, and it makes all the effort he put into this even more meaningful.

“this,” he motions around the room, “was my way of trying to say i’m sorry.”

you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him empathetically.

“you don’t need to apologize for that,” you reassure him, placing a hand on his arm. “though i’m enjoying it. these cookies are really good.”

he smiles a little at your joke, soft crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes.

“i can’t take credit for that,” he admits, cocking his head in the direction of the staircase. “it was all marie.”

the thought of logan recruiting the teenager for assistance was sickly sweet. knowing marie, it was probably her idea to help. you can picture the pair of them in the kitchen, her seeming more like the adult and him like the child.

“still,” you assert. “just the fact that you thought of all this means a lot.”

his thumb rubs featherlight circle on your exposed skin. “it’s nothing, really.”

there he goes again with the undermining.

sighing, you drag your fingers up and down the expanse of his arm, eyes drawn to the motion rather than the man. you feel like your heart might burst if you go a second longer without being a bit more direct. but god was it nerve wracking. especially when logan looked at you like you were the only thing in the whole entire universe.

“this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you admit lowly, toying with the hem of his sleeve, too nervous and overwhelmed to meet the wolverine’s intense gaze.

your hand moves towards his again, lightly tracing the outlines of his veins. you muster up the courage to look back up at logan, who somehow moved even closer to you in the 15 seconds you’ve spent fixated on his flannel. the soft glow of the tea lights illuminated the amber flecks of his irises, highlighted the structure of his nose, the curve of his muscles. made him look like something out of a dream. it sure felt like you were in one.

when his hand clasps around yours, you realize that this isn’t a dream. it’s your reality, and you better take advantage of it.

you let ten words convey everything.

“i’m really glad the person who did it was you.”

that’s all logan needs to hear before he decides he can’t hold back any longer. his lips find yours with a tender urgency, like he wanted to savor the moment and devour you whole all at once. the hand that was once on the couch moved to cradle your jaw, just about entirely encompassing the side of your head.

that place of wondering was correct in its predictions. despite all of his rough edges and gruffness, logan’s lips were softer than you ever could’ve imagined. your hands find purchase in the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, your bodies smushed together on the couch. logan wants nothing more than to pull you onto his lap, but he knows that’s more than likely to lead to some rather ungentlemanly activities. no, he wants to do this properly, take things nice and slow. so he settles for keeping his hands above the collar, and from the soft sighs he can hear you let out, it seems to be doing the trick.

it feels like you’re on cloud 9 as your lips move together, your disappointment of today’s plans long forgotten. all you could focus on was how perfect this moment was, how perfect logan felt. his thumb teases the corner of your mouth, a silent command that he wants to explore you further and you open yourself up with ease. his tongue prods between your lips gently, a contrast to the feeling of his calloused palm against your skin.

you move slow and syrupy, not wanting time to pass. if your mutation was time manipulation, you surely would’ve halted it, letting yourself stay in this little bubble of bliss for as long as you wanted.

but of course, all good things must come to an end. because as much as your brain had turned to jelly for the time being, the tiny functioning part that was left blossomed a new worry.

logan fears he’s done something wrong when you pull back quick and unexpectedly, your eyes wide with something he can’t quite place.

“everything okay?” he asks cautiously, frozen in position. the answer you provide is far from what he had in mind.

“i don’t want you to get sick,” you mutter, clasping a hand over your mouth. the fact that that’s what you’re worried about right now, makes logan’s heart flutter a little, as silly as it was.

all of his anxieties fade in an instant, amusement taking its place instead. logan barks out a laugh, probably one of the most sincere sounding ones you’ve ever heard from him.

“what’s so funny?” you ask, confused as to why he’d be laughing when you were dead serious. the saliva swap that just transpired was sure to pass along whatever germs your body was still harboring. the last thing you wanted was for logan to feel as shitty as you felt this morning.

“honey,” he cuts through his laughter, clutching at his sides. “i don’t get sick.”

“what do you mean, ‘you don’t get sick’?”

“regeneration,” he states matter of factly, calming down a bit. “anything that could harm my body, my mutation takes care of.”

right.

for what feels like the millionth time today, you blush. not in flattery, but in embarrassment. you hide your face behind your hands, cursing yourself for halting a damn good makeout.

“i’m such an idiot,” you mumble into your palms. “i cannot believe i just ruined the moment like that.”

“hey, hey,” logan coos, gingerly pulling your hands away from your face. your eyes are still screwed shut, not wanting to face any more ridicule than necessary, even if it was only playful. the feeling of logan’s thumb and forefinger lightly grasping at your chin causes your eyelids to flutter.

“look at me.”

slowly, you open your eyes. logan’s grip on your chin is firm but gentle. it’s to keep you from running from him, forcing you to be on the same level.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he tells you in the most caring tone of of voice.

“promise?”

logan leans in and gives you a long, lingering kiss. it’s somehow even more maddening than the first one, and your stomach feels like it’s on a rollercoaster you’re not sure you ever want to get off of.

when he pulls away, he shoots you a wink, and you fight the urge to melt on the spot.

“promise.”

he presses airy little kisses to both of your cheeks before settling back against the couch.

“now, where were we?”

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, watching closely as logan’s eyes lingered on your mouth again. in a flirty move, you tease him by moving in impossibly close, your lips barely a centimeter apart. just as he’s about to close the gap, your press your pointer finger to his mouth, catching him by surprise.

“i think it’s time for another movie,” you sing song, prancing off the couch and in the direction of the dvd player.

you tease.

logan simply shakes his head, beaming at you as you scan over your movie selection. he’s come to know and notice a lot of things about you. the way your nose wrinkles when you get excited. how you take your coffee. the thing you do with your hands when you get nervous. your pet peeves. he finds something new to admire about you every day. right now he’s soaking in the joy that radiates off you in bright yellow waves, unavoidable to those in your orbit.

in that moment, logan decides he always wants to be in the path of their warmth.

when you pad back over to the couch as the opening credits start, you tuck yourself into his side. logan’s arm pulls you close, anchoring you to him in more ways than one. you fit together like puzzle pieces, soon to be inseparable now that you knew just how well you connected.

in the glow of the television and the tea lights, snug by his side, he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

maybe halloween wasn’t so bad after all.

thanks for reading! <3

bat divider by @saradika-graphics

#logan howlett x reader #retrosabers #sid writes shit #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine #xmen #marvel #hugh jackman #halloween #halloween 2024 #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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somethingvicked · 10 months ago

Text

Keep me warm

Eddie Munson one-shot.

warnings: female reader, smut, no use of Y/N, pet names; sweetheart, baby, etc.

You and Eddie had spent the day at Lover’s Lake. Eddie refused to go to the lake on the sunny days because practically all of Hawkins were there and he didn’t want them all to scream and stare at him.

So today, when it had been cloudy, you had all but put your foot down and forced him to come with you.

”Come on, Eddie! One day in the whole summer we just got to be at the lake, take a dip and have fun!” you had whined and he had given in.

He always gave in when it came to you, couldn’t deny you anything.

Except himself.

It was your biggest secret, how in love you were with Eddie Munson. Always had been.

Ever since the day you and he got paired up in English class for a project and you offered to help him out, so he would pass the class at the end of term.

That was three years ago and Eddie was none the wiser about your feelings for him. You were his friend and he loved you, you knew that. But he wasn’t in love with you.

You two had happily tossed your clothes to the ground (wearing swimclothes underneath) and dove into the lake, playing around, swim racing and dunking each other for a good while, without noticing that the sky had gotten darker.

When there was a loud rumble above you, Eddie pushed his wet hair out of his face and looked up, his eyes widening. ”Shit! We need to get out of here,” he told you, pulling your arm as the both of you all but fought against the water’s density as you ran up to the beach.

And that’s when the sky all but opened itself. You were still in the water below the waist but with the force of the rain you didn’t really notice the difference, you were both drenched within seconds, and you could see how your towels and clothes were too, at the beach.

”Just grab them, we’ll drive back to my place and change, you can borrow something from me,” Eddie said.

You weren’t sure how you felt about going commando underneath Eddie’s clothing since your underwear would be wet but nodded nevertheless, as the both of you grabbed the two piles, running through the pouring rain toward his van that stood at the edge of the forest path leading to the lake.

You were both soaked, as if you had never gotten out of the water, when you reached the van. Water wasn’t dripping from you, it was running down your bodies in small rivlets, droplets big as pennies flying off your hair when you moved.

Finally Eddie unlocked the driver’s side door and leaned over to unlock the passenger one so you could climb in. You shivered, dropping your clothes on the floor by the seat and went to buckle yourself up.

Eddie turned the the key to the engine.

Nothing.

”What?” Eddie muttered and tried again, but the van didn’t start. He tried two more times before admitting defeat.

”The battery must be dead,” he concluded. ”But why?”

”Did you turn the lights off before we went to the lake?” you wondered and his eyes widened.

”Shit! I... no, I don’t think I did.”

You sighed. That was typically Eddie, and normally you would find it endearing, but now you were stuck in the forest, soaked in cold rainwater and with no clothes to change into.

You shivered and Eddie looked at you, clearly feeling bad. ”I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to rub your arm. It didn’t help much against the cold.

”It’s okay,” you said, ”these things just happens sometimes, it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

It was quiet for a moment as you listened to the thunder and the constant sound of the rain splashing onto the roof of the van.

You had pulled your knees to your chest, trying to stay warm, but your wet bikini didn’t help. Eddie didn’t seem to fair much better. You could see the hairs on his arms standing up, his pale skin looking more blue than white. Suddenly Eddie snapped his fingers. ”I have an idea. But... it... I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he said, a blush covering his face.

You raised an eyebrow. ”What kind of idea?” you asked him curiously.

”Well... we’re both freezing, right? And we don’t know how long this rain storm will go on. I... I have a mattress back there, and a blanket. It’s mostly for when I... when I conduct business out of town, because no way I can afford a motel,” Eddie admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. ”Why don’t we climb back there and try to get warm.”

That was a good plan in theory. But your bathing suits, heavy with water, would still chill you down and you told him so.

His blushed deepened. ”That’s what I meant about you taking it the wrong way. That we... we take them off. Body heat.”

Your mouth fell open and you just looked at him, your brain going blank.

Eddie wanted... he wanted to...

”I mean, I will of course look away, and we’ll be under the blanket the whole time, I just don’t want you getting sick,” Eddie rambled, looking like he was about to panic. That made you laugh.

”No, it’s... it’s okay, Ed. Let’s try.”

You climbed to the back and Eddie got the blanket out. You slide beneath it and then pulled your bikini bottoms off and then the bikini top, tossing them to a corner of the van.

You closed your eyes as you heard Eddie shuffle with his own swim shorts. Then you almost jerked when you felt something crawl in beside you.

”I think it’s best if you turn on your side,” Eddie whispered and you nodded, turning so your back was to him, and he wrapped his arm around your middle, taking care not to land even an inch above or below. He had also shuffled his hips backwards so his pelvis wasn’t even touching you and deep inside you thought that this was probably not the correct way to create body heat. You two were only lucky it was in the summer and it was just the rain that had chilled you down, not snow or ice.

It did work though. Soon enough you started to feel warm enough that you could ease out from your fetal position and relax. Eddie seemed to do so too, he wasn’t as tense anymore.

The arm you were lying on had gone numb though, so you shifted a little to get the blood flowing and heard a sharp inhale from Eddie.

”Don’t... don’t do that,” he said, sounding as if he was in pain.

”Do what?” you wondered, turning your head to look at him. ”I was just...” as you shifted again, you felt it.

Your bare ass came into contact with Eddie’s crotch and... he was hard. Rock hard.

Your eyes widened. ”Eds?” you whispered.

Eddie swallowed and closed his eyes. ”I’m sorry!” he whimpered, ”I’m so sorry. It... it’s just...!”

You couldn’t help it, you started to giggle.

”This is not funny,” Eddie exclaimed, his voice mopey like a child.

You felt it again, and the size of his cock made you gasp, warmth pooling inside your pussy.

You would probably hate yourself for this later, but you couldn’t resist anymore. You turned around, sliding as close to Eddie as you could, raising a leg so that it rested over his hip.

Eddie gasped, looking at you in shock, his dark eyes even darker from arousal.

”Can... can I...?” he started but you didn’t wait for him to finish, you took the hand that now rested on your hip and brought it down to your sex, making him close his eyes in bliss as he gently parted your folds, stroking you.

You pulled the blanket up a little so you could get a good look at his cock. It was beautiful. Big, uncut – apparently his parents had never bothered with getting him circumcised – and slightly curved.You wanted that inside you.

Eddie opened his eyes and met your gaze. This time he didn’t ask, he pulled you into him and kissed you.

You whimpered as he rolled you beneath him, bringing both of your legs around his hips. His cock was rubbing against your wetness, and it made you ache with want.

”Need you, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into your ear, sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, teeth scraping against the skin. ”Wanted you... so long...”

He had wanted you?

You didn’t get an opportunity to think about that because Eddie’s free hand took a hold of your chin, making you look at him.

”Do you want me, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

”If you don’t, tell me now.”

You shook your head. ”I want you, Eddie! Please!”

”You got it,” he whispered and then started to kiss his way down your body, tossing the blanket that had covered the both of you earlier, impatiently to the side.

”Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, licking the curve of your breast, up to your pebbled nipple. That made you whine, arching your chest against him.

He switched to your other breast, rubbing his own saliva over the nipple he had just left. You moaned and whimpered, arching against him. What he did felt wonderful but your pussy was absolutely dripping, aching for something, any kind of friction.

”Please, Eds...”

”Please what?” he wondered, blowing cold air over the other nipple, now wet from his mouth.

”I need... need you to touch me!”

”Baby, I am touching you,” he teased you and you just wanted to bite him. But instead you took one of his hands and moved it to your sex, using his fingers to rub your own clit.

”There,” you moaned, ”I need you to touch me there...!”

Eddie’s eyes grew big as he watched you holding his fingers and put them against your clit, rubbing circles, bucking against them.

”Holy fuck,” he whispered, before batting your hand aside and moving down between your thighs.

”You don’t have to make me do it, baby. I’ll touch that sweet pussy whenever you want me to!”

For moment you were surprised by his teasing and dominance – it was so unusal from how Eddie usually was. Only a moment ago he had been so embarrassed about you feeling his hard on!

And now... now, he spread your legs and inspected your glistening pussy, as if it was nothing!

Then you felt his wet, fat tongue, licking a stripe up from your ass to your clit, making you cry out and dig your nails into the mattress your were lying on.

”Jesus H. Christ, you taste so good,” Eddie groaned, licking you again, flicking his tongue against your clit, putting his lips over it, sucking, humming.

”Eddie... Eds... that... that...!”

”Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels having my eat this delicious pussy!”

”Feels so good...!” you sobbed as he started to push a finger in and out, crooking it, making your eyes roll back into your head as he hit that sweet spot inside you.

”You like that? Or do you want more?”

”I... I want to... taste you too,” you stuttered out, your hand jerking out and grabbing on to his cock. Eddie made a choking sound deep in his throat, but he grabbed your hand, kind of how you had with his, and shook his head.

”Another time, sweetheart. If you put that sweet mouth on me, I won’t last two second. I want to fuck you first. Need to be inside you! You want that?”

You nodded furiously and Eddie leaned in closer to you, almost looking desperate. ”Say I can fuck you, baby. Say you want me!”

”I want you, Eddie,” you whispered. ”I want you to fuck me!”

”Yes,” Eddie hissed, removing his finger from you, sliding his cock against your folds, your wetness covering him as he finally slipped inside you, both of you letting out a loud moan when he bottomed out inside you.

You felt like he was in your throat, but it felt so good, so right... your cunt was screaming for him to move, to hit all the spots inside...

”Move, Eddie! Please, you promised to fuck me!”

Eddie growled – he actually growled at that – and pushed your legs up, so that your knees were practically by your ears, starting to thrust into you with vigor.

”Feels so fucking good... so tight... made to take my cock... ”

Apparently Eddie was just as talkative in bed as he was otherwise, it seemed he wasn’t even aware of what he was saying.

He held on to your legs, using them as leverage to pound into you. By now the van was shaking by the force of Eddie’s thrusts and your bucking to meet him, the windows had misted over and both of your bodies were shining with sweat.

Eddie released one of your legs and slid a hand down to play with your clit, making you scream.

”Eddie... I’m... I’m...”

”Cum for me, baby! I want to feel you cum!”

You sobbed through your orgasm, your arms tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin as he kept pushing into you, just making it go on and on...

”Eddie...!”

”I’m close, sweetheart. Where... ”

”Inside! Inside me!”

”Are you sure...?”

”Birth control.”

”Fuck!”

Eddie thrust a few more times, one, two, three shallow thrusts before he groaned loudly, the veins in his neck standing out, as ropes of his warm cum painted your walls.

He let go of your legs but as you were afraid he would just get up and it would all be over, you wrapped them around his waist, clinging to him like a baby koala.

Eddie moved his bangs out of his eyes and looked down at you. ”God, you’re so beatiful,” he whispered.

You frowned. ”You... you think?”

”Of course I do. I’ve always thought so. That you were the most beautiful girl in the world. The most perfect girl in the world. I love you, sweetheart. Always have.”

Your eyes widened. ”What?”

”Yes. What, you thought... that this was just...?”

”I thought you just reacted because... well, we were naked.”

”No! Well, yes, a bit perhaps,” Eddie admitted, making you giggle. ”But... I’ve been in love with you forever. I was just... a coward. Afraid that if you didn’t feel the same it would ruin not just our friendship but the rest of the gang too.”

You supposed you could understand that. And you couldn’t exactly fault him, because you had been a chicken about admitting your feelings as well.

”I love you too, Eddie.”

Eddie hugged you tightly. Then he suddenly chuckled.

”What?” you wondered, smiling.

”It’s stopped raining.”

It was impossible to see anything out of the window but the tell-tale sounds of droplets landing on the roof of the van wasn’t there anymore so you guessed he was right.

”You want to try and walk back to the trailer park?” you wondered and Eddie shook his head.

”Nah, I’m good. I want to stay like this for a while. Besides, we don’t have any clothes to wear – we might end up in jail.”

You giggled. ”You’re right. But I don’t mind staying here either. I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

tagging: @quinnyficsy @melodymunson @jenniquinn @pandemoniusstuff @munson-blurbs

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #best friends to lovers #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #v's writing

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flowery-mess · 17 days ago

Text

I need to give credit to @respectfulrebel for this one, she created the villain of this story and the plot🤭 and then I also got this anon who probably liked the idea too🤍

warnings: 18+ MDNI / oral (f receiving) / protected sex

nerd Noah masterlist

I see this happening when you and Noah are dating, but decided to keep it for yourselves for now.

---

There were lots of activities planned for the whole trip and you and Noah signed to some together, but not today.

As you and the rest of the hiking group come back to the resort you immediately spot Noah, hovering over everyone in the crowd.

He doesn’t see you come back, so he takes off his tshirt and jumps in the water with the rest of the IT guys. When he disappears in the water, Brenda comes into your view.

She’s sitting by the pool with her friends and she’s staring at Noah, without any shame. Brenda is 45, divorced and with a teenage son, so she’s more than ready for a work trip hook up. And you have to give it to her that she looks really nice for her age, so that’s why you’re sprinting to your room and changing into the sexiest but still appropriate bikini you packed.

You grab a towel and purposely leave your sunglasses on your bed before leaving your room.

When you come back you see Noah still in the pool, his hair tied in a low bun and he’s just chatting in the corner with the guys. Guess who’s also chatting with the guys? Brenda. What the fuck can Brenda be talking about with the IT guys?

Noah finally notices you when you come closer to the pool and he’s so glad he’s in the cold water when he sees you. He waves at you and points to where his things are, so you can leave your things next to his. You do exactly that and when you see Brenda follow Noah’s gaze you exaggerate the wave you give him back and make your way for the stairs.

Noah can’t keep his eyes off of you, he watches your body under his sunglasses until you're fully in the water and swimming in his direction.

“Hi everyone.” you say when you reach the group and Brenda.

“Hi!” everyone says back, but you hear the only person that you care about.

You pass Brenda on your way to Noah, maybe splashing some water on her face by “accident”.

“Hi.” you say one more time, this time only for Noah to hear.

There have been some rumors in the company that you two are dating, so you don’t really try to hide it, but also you don’t show it to their faces.

You look around the group around you and shield your eyes with your hand from the sun. Noah notices, of course he does, he always does.

“Do you want my sunglasses?”

“Oh no, I can run back to my room to get mine.” but before you could turn around he’s already taking them off and putting them on your face.

“Thank you.” you whisper and smile at him.

“How about you Noah?” Brenda asks in her annoying voice after witnessing the stupidly cute moment between you two.

Noah turns his attention from you to her and says “Sorry I wasn’t listening, what was the question?” and you just smirk to yourself.

You keep listening to their conversation, but not really participating, because they’re talking about some computer stuff you know nothing about. And Brenda doesn’t know shit too, but she keeps asking questions and keeps talking about how her son is interested in computers too.

“Are you thinking of switching departments Brenda?” you ask her.

“What?”

“The way you keep asking all of those questions just makes me wonder if you think about switching to IT.” you hear Noah snort next to you which seemed like the final straw for Brenda get the fuck away.

“That was funny.” one of Noah’s colleagues tells you before they all leave to do their own thing, which leaves you and Noah by yourselves.

Noah leans on his elbows on the edge of the pool and you do the same.

“How was the hike?.”

“Good, I’ll show you pictures later. The view was amazing.” you lay your head on your forearms and start tracing your fingers along the lines of Noah’s tattoos.

You continue to chat with him for a while until the sun starts to set and you get cold.

Noah helps you out of the pool and wraps you in your towel like a burrito.

“You’re freezing! Go take a shower and wear something warm.” he says when he feels your cold nose.

“Okay mom.” you laugh at his reaction, but before he can say anything you’re already running away.

The trip was booked long before you and Noah started seeing each other so you don’t share a room together, but at least you were one of the lucky ones and got a room for yourself. Next to Brenda.

You change into sweatpants and hoodie before you make your way back down where someone already started the bonfire.

Noah was already there, changed into warmer clothes too. And next to him? Brenda.

Brenda stayed close to Noah the whole time, like if you were invisible.

Noah went to grab a beer? Brenda did too.

Noah went inside to grab something from the kitchen? Brenda did too.

Noah told everyone a joke? Brenda was laughing the fucking loudest.

The worst thing? She wanted to make you jealous and she was good at it. You were sending her looks everytime she interacted with Noah.

Your night would have been ruined if it wasn’t for sweet oblivious Noah, who asked you every ten minutes if you’re not cold or if you have a drink or if you’re not tired and give you forehead kiss every now and then.

When Brenda called it a night and winked at Noah before leaving, you’ve had enough. You waited ten minutes after she left and then said “I’m tired, do you wanna come with me?”

Of course he did.

You barely made it to your room and you had him pinned against the door, kissing him already.

“Wow what was that for?” he asks breathlessly when you pull away to catch a breath.

“Oh we’re just getting started baby, I’m not gonna let Brenda eye fuck you the whole day without a revenge.”

“What?” he’s the sweetest. He hasn’t noticed any of Brenda’s tries to get his attention, because he has eyes only for you.

“Noah, she was flirting with you the whole day.” you walk him back until he falls on your bed and you straddle his lap.

“But I-” he starts to stutter, scared that you think he was flirting with her too.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” you whisper against his lips before smashing your mouths together.

He doesn’t fight it, he’s more than happy to finally have you after looking at you in that tight bikini the whole afternoon.

Your kisses are needy, clothes are flying everywhere and before you know it Noah is between your thighs.

“Fuck!” you moan, not trying to hold back so Brenda gets the message.

Noah is so ready to be inside you that he moves his hips against the mattress for some friction, while sucking on your clit.

“Noaah!” you moan his name and he’s close to cuming in that exact moment.

“You need to be quiet baby.” his words are muffled by him still being between your thighs, but he’s looking up at you and that sight makes you squeeze around nothing.

He goes back to licking your entrance before he pushes his tongue inside you. You reach down to tug at his hair, to tell him “keep going” without using your words.

He keeps fucking you with his tongue and uses his fingers to circle your clit. It takes one look at him and you’re done. His eyes are closed and brows are a little bit furrowed. He’s focused on you, nothing else exists for him right now. He keeps licking you through the aftershocks until you push his head away.

You grab his chin and pull him up to meet you in a kiss. You moan in his mouth after you taste yourself on his lips.

“Lay down.” you whisper and then push him down on the mattress.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you today, you’re never this dominant and never rush things, but he likes this side of you.

You don’t waste more time than necessary, reaching for the condom that’s on your nightstand.

You use your hand to stroke Noah’s dick a few times before you put the condom on and then slide down until he’s fully inside you.

You see his face, he wants to be loud so bad, but he’s so shy about the idea that anyone could hear you. He bites his lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape.

You start to move your hips and it doesn’t take long before Noah’s hands find your hips, helping you to keep the pace.

You use his chest to steady yourself as you lean down to kiss his neck. You suck on his skin, marking him, so everyone knows that he’s taken.

In this position you can hear his silent moans and breaths, which only makes you move faster. You sit back up and put your hands on the bed frame. If you’re not gonna let Brenda hear your moans, at least she can hear the bed banging into the wall.

Noah keeps looking up at you, like you’re his goddess. Without breaking eye contact he puts his fingers into his mouth to get them wet and then he slides them between your bodies to rub small circles on your clit.

“Oh god.” you let the moan leave your mouth as you feel the orgasm building up.

Noah’s hips start to thrust into you and he struggles to keep his eyes open. He’s close. It takes just a few more rolls of your hips and you feel his thighs shake as he’s pulling you down so he can hide his head in the crook of your neck to silent the moans that he can't keep inside. You feel his teeth bite into the skin of your shoulder and this new wave of excitement makes the orgasm snap inside you.

Brenda is long forgotten when Noah carries you to the bathroom and washes your body with the gentlest touch of his hands. Then he lets you comb his hair and wear his tshirt.

“You’re mine.” you whisper to him when you’re back in bed.

“I’m yours.” you get up on your elbows to look at him.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are.” you kiss his nose and snuggle closer to him so you don’t fall off the bed that’s made for one person.

“I hope no one heard us, that would be embarrassing.” Noah mumbles into your hair and you just laugh at his worries.

You don’t care if Brenda heard you or not, the only thing that matters that Noah is yours and he has eyes for you only.

dividers by silent-stories

taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @lilcrazy011 @pipidoll @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @theasowle @darknightstarryeyes @montgomery-929496

#nerd noah #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut

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philistiniphagottini · 24 days ago

Note

Okay hi! Furina anon is back! (Also thank you for figuring out my typo before I did orz) I saw your fluff post this morning and I'd been battling with what request I should send and that sold me on one of my ideas! But it's more than a little rambly so bear with me please 🙂‍↕️

So there is a particular calendar art of Furina with a blubberbeast where she's got this little smile as she pokes its belly. But Furina is kinda the world's biggest girl failure so I can see her comparing her chubby s/o to a blubberbeast with only kind and pure intentions like look how snuggly this baby is! They're known for their distinct songs and singing! But she doesn't think about that and just like uses something like my blubberbeast as a term of endearment or like they're walking on the beach and Furina points to one and says "look! Those always make me think of you!" and reader is like, "excuse me?" Cue Furina having a panicked meltdown because that's not what she meant and oh God now reader is gonna hate her etc etc etc but it turns into it being very very sweet and wholesome Furina is just bad at people lol

I don't know if this made a molecule of sense but I really appreciate you taking the time to read this and put thought to my ask even if you don't end up writing it! I know how fast inspiration comes and goes! Take your time and know you're appreciated! 🩵🩵

-🫧

Hi! I'm so glad you came back and requested something. This was a lot of fun to write, you gave me a pretty clear picture on what to write and I knew the moment I read this exactly what I wanted to do. And I looked up the calendar art you mentioned. Oh my god, it is so cute, I'm gonna use it as like a header or something for this fic cause it's so adorable. Thank you once again for the request, I really hope you like it and that I captured Furina's girl failure energy lol.

cw. fluff, humour, minor miscommunication, female reader, chubby reader, minors please DO NOT interact with my works.

Official calendar art. Found on Reddit

It was a warm day in Fontaine. The balmy breeze carried the scent of sea salt that tickled your nose and made the tip of your tongue tingle every time you swallowed. The sun kissed your warm skin but it wasn’t unpleasant, just enough to make beads of sweat cling to the baby hairs lining the nape of your neck as you took a leisurely stroll along the beach with your girlfriend.

The warm sands beneath your bare feet slipped between the gaps of your toes with every step you took, footprints leaving a clear trail as you danced along the water's edge. You held both your shoes and Furina’s in your hands as you traipsed along the shoreline, the blessed cold water ebbing and flowing along with the gentle lap of the waves. Furina squealed in delight when a rush of cold water suddenly covered her feet, only for it to retreat a moment later as the tide pulled it back. She was already a few paces ahead of you and showed no signs of slowing down as she skipped along the sand and danced in the shallow water, a spray of water droplets kicking up after her as it followed the joyous mayhem she caused.

“Ah so refreshing~” she sang, her voice carrying around the empty beach.

She abruptly spun on her heel, turning to face you with bright, shimmering blue eyes and a smile on her face. “Come on, keep up!”

You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged on your plump lips, the swell of your round cheeks feeling warm as you grinned back. Furina seemed to be so full of energy today and it was starting to rub off on you as she frolicked in the waves. You chuckled as she marched back over to you with an undignified huff puffing past her lips, her feet splashing in the water that lapped at your feet as she reached for your hand. She tugged you along and you obliged, falling into step behind her as she boldly led the way. Where were you going? You weren’t sure. But Furina seemed determined to find something as her head swiveled from side to side, her eyes shaded by her hand as she tried to spot the object of her desire.

Only a brief moment passed of shadowing her footsteps before she beamed with a smile, letting go of her hand so she could point at something in the distance. A small herd of Blubberbeasts had gathered along the shoreline, bellies to the sky as they lazed in the afternoon sun. Their large eyes were so round and innocent, complimenting their soft nature and even softer bodies. Furina couldn’t help the bout of giggles she got from the sudden flood of cuteness aggression towards the plump, seal-like creatures. They always looked so soft and she desperately wanted to poke their chubby bellies. The cuddly looking beasts always made her think of you, because your chubby body was just as soft looking and plump as theirs. The comparison made her head feel a little giddy as she puffed up her chest and proudly announced:

“Look, that Blubberbeast always makes me think of you!”

You paused in your steps, your smile abruptly dropping into a frown. A soft furrow formed between your brows, a look of confusion suddenly settling over your features as you shot her an incredulous look.

“Excuse me?”

Furina’s smile dropped as well at your tone of voice. She slowly turned back to you, shoulders bunched up to her ears as her eyes nervously flitted about your face. Why were you looking at her like that? Did she do something wrong? When she took a few seconds to reflect on her words, she began to realise just how horrible they sounded. She now wished she could pluck them out of the thin air and shove them back down her throat. But it was far too late for that now.

“W-Wait, I didn’t mean…” Furina stuttered but the words stopped flowing.

Her throat closed over and she suddenly felt awful. She didn’t mean it like that. She wasn’t trying to be demeaning. Blubberbeasts were so round and soft. And you were round and soft. She adored that about you. She loved wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace and feeling the softness of your body. She adored poking your soft belly and the way her the tips of her delicate fingers would squish into the soft pudge, only to have it bounce back into shape. She enjoyed kissing your full cheeks and playfully sinking her teeth into plump flesh. Your soft body was always so inviting, just how Blubberbeasts looked so endearing as well. But she fumbled her words and it sounded like she was making fun of you, instead of praising you. Oh god, did you hate her now?

Furina’s head was spinning as she started to stumble over her words, unshed tears pricking the corners of her wet eyes. Her hands gestured wildly in the air and her mouth was working faster than her head as she panicked. She could endure most hardships but to see even a hint of disdain or contempt painting your visage? She would rather die a thousand deaths.

“I’m so sorry” she sobbed. “Please don’t hate me, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just…It’s just…”

She was hyperventilating, a disgusting hiccup lodged in her throat as she wailed, tears flowing freely down her hot cheeks as her overacting mind kicked into overdrive. She wouldn’t blame you if you really, really hated her. There was a soft splash as you rushed to her side. The touch of your hands on her body were so soft, a soothing balm against her heated skin as you drew her into your warm embrace. The scent of your perfume tickled her nose but it only made her sniffle loudly as she was clogged with tears that would not stop falling. You looped your arms around her shoulders, not caring as you dropped your pair of shoes and they started to fill with water. You had other things to worry about as you pressed your cheek to Furina’s as her salty tears wet your skin.

“Furina, please don’t cry it’s okay” you soothed.

Your calm voice helped bring her back from the edge, the feeling of your soft body pressed so intimately close; a comfort as she breathed you in. You squeezed her tight, patting her firmly on the back as she hiccuped once more, arms dangling uselessly by her sides as she hid her face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry” she croaked. “I didn’t mean it.”

A smile tugged at your lips. You know its not what she meant. Her initial words had shocked you, spoken so casually and out of the blue that it had stunned you for a moment. But when you took a little time to think further about it, you had realised that she only had the purest intentions when making the comparison. But at that point, she had already broken down into tears before you could try and rectify the situation. Furina slowly started to calm down the more you squeezed her in tight.

“It’s okay honey, I know you didn’t mean it” you reassured.

She sniffled pathetically, even when you pulled back and held her cheeks in the palm of your hands to get a better look at her. When she realised there wasn’t even a hint of disdain in your eyes, it helped to soothe her nerves. Her tears were drying up, but her brow was still furrowed, even when you placed a kiss on her forehead to help ease the tension.

“You’re not mad?” Furina asked.

You shook her head, dabbing your fingers under her puffy eyes to wipe away any stray tears that clung to the edges of her soused lashes.

“No. I admit, you caught me off guard. But I’m not mad” you replied.

There was a gentle warble in her voice, frown still tugging on her lips. “Promise?”

“I promise. That was just...an awful line delivery.”

She finally wrapped her arms around your plump waist, her frown turning into a soft pout when you couldn’t help but giggle a little. You teased your fingers through her hair, soft wisps curling around your fingertips as you tucked the stray strands behind her ear.

“I’ll have you know, I pride myself in my perfect line deliveries” Furina replied haughtily.

You chuckled. “When you’re reading off a script” you pointed out. “Conversing with others isn’t so straightforward. There’s no director guiding you. Words can be interpreted very differently.”

She was still pouting up at you and it made you fold her further in your arms. You smiled warmly.

“I know you were just trying to be sweet. If it makes you feel better, you can call me your little Blubberbeast anytime you like.”

A light dust of pink tinted Furina’s cheeks as she thought about your proposal. Her stomach churned with a hint of embarrassment as she squeezed your soft waist again. She shifted her weight between her feet and you moved along with her as you both slowly spun around in a circle.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

You kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m sure. They are quite adorable. And as far as I am aware, I am the most adorable person I have ever met~”

Furina started to giggle and her laughter suited her much better. She hummed softly, smiling with an infectious grin that always made butterflies flitter about in the pit of your belly. She squeezed your plump waist as you continued to spin among the shallow waters.

“Then you shall be my cute Blubberbeast and no one else’s~ You’re mine~”

#my writing #request #anon #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact furina x reader #furina x reader #fluff #fem reader #x reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #x plus size reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year ago

Text

Obligation [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader who is 52.

Tags/warnings: Throwing up, unplanned pregnancy, angst, Joel doesn't take it well but is soft, implied abortion.

Summary: You've been fucking Joel Miller for a couple of months when you realize that you're pregnant - which you didn't think possible because you thought you were post-menopausal. How does one get an abortion in Jackson - and how are you going to tell Joel?

Words: 4,267

A/N: For all my old gals out there, as well as those who don't want kids.

My masterlist

I think I may be pregnant.

The realization reverberates through you, bringing with it another wave of nausea. You barely have time to stick your head down the toilet before you throw up. The acrid taste of bile fills your mouth and nose, and tears stream down your cheeks. You grip the toilet seat as you continue retching, your stomach hellbent on emptying itself.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. No. No, no, no, no, no, how can this be?

What an idiot question. You almost laugh at yourself in the midst of this misery. How does one become pregnant? Well, fucking someone like Joel Miller on a regular basis is a good start. He fucks you deep and good, the bed and his body creaking in unison as he has you pinned underneath him, his broad, heavy body a welcome weight on you, his cock balls deep inside your wet cunt when he finishes and leaves you full even after he's pulled out. His thick, creamy cum dripping out of you when you fall into blissful sleep, sometimes with him staying over.

You know how babies are made, for God's sake. You just didn't count on you still being able to make them. You're past 50, and your period stopped years ago. This is new to you, you’ve never been pregnant before or even had an interest in trying, but you’re not stupid. You’ve been feeling tired lately, out of sorts, a dull nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach like just before your period, and last night when Joel grabbed your breasts, you almost punched him. Even now they’re so sore even the weight of them hurts.

And now this. Morning sickness. You haven’t eaten anything strange, you were okay last night, and paired up with everything else that has been going on… you must be pregnant.

Thank God Joel isn’t here, you think dimly. He didn't stay over last night, quoting an early morning today to go on patrol. You didn't mind. What you have together is casual, and you're not the one who needs to be cuddled – or coddled, for that matter. You like it when he stays over, but don’t care if he doesn’t. It has worked out well for a few months now.

And now this. You draw a quivering breath, and slump against the wall. It seems like your stomach has settled, so after a couple of minutes, you carefully stand up and bend over the sink, rinsing out your mouth with cold water before splashing some in your face. Straightening your back, you meet your tired gaze in the small mirror above the sink. There is nothing different there, except a lack of energy, but nothing that could reveal the fact that you are carrying a growing clump of cells in your belly.

The thought makes you nauseous again, and you step back to the toilet, expecting to be sick, but there is nothing else to expel, so you flush the toilet, and slowly make your way to the kitchen. Despite being sick, or because of it, you’re hungry, so you take out what provisions you have, and sit down at the table. You usually take your meals in the dining hall, but you don’t want to show yourself right now. God knows what will happen if anyone asks you how you are. And what if you eat, and then throw up again?

Slowly, you gnaw away at a slice of bread with cheese on it, while trying to get yourself together and think over your options. But no matter how you try to think about it, there are no options except one: you have to get rid of it. The reasons are many, but the two most pressing ones are the simple fact that you have never wanted children, and this is not a world into which children should be born, as far as you’re concerned. The more you think about it, the more certain you are. But how in the hell are you going to get an abortion? And while you may not be shy, how the actual fuck are you going to tell the doc that you, a 52-year-old woman, didn’t think to protect yourself? Or that you know your own body so badly that you didn’t even know that you’re, in fact, not post-menopausal?

You stopped crying years ago because tears have no function in this world, but now your humiliation makes your tears well up. You sniffle wetly, put down the piece of bread, and angrily wipe at your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mutter, but there is no stopping the tears. When the first one runs down your cheek, you bang your fist to the table and scream.

“FUCK!”

You let the tears fall, confident that there won’t be too many. When you’re done crying, you finish your meagre breakfast, wipe your face, and get dressed. A day of work awaits you, and maybe if you work hard enough…

You shudder at the thought. You may not have any experience in this department, but you know that your age is a liability. Things could go wrong, and you could die. You don’t want to die. You didn’t survive for all these years just to get taken out by a goddamn unwanted pregnancy.

Fortified by your sheer will to live, you open the front door, and get to work.

During your lunch break, you slip into the Jackson library, which is only just one room in the schoolhouse. The collection consists of whatever has been found during raids, as well as works that the residents have brought with them. The stacks are neat, though, thanks to the teacher who also doubles as a librarian. The collection is divided into main classes, and you quickly find the small section for Biology. There is a middle school book with a chapter on human reproduction, but that’s just the basics. You check the Medicine section, finding nothing. You leave the library, mentally chiding yourself for thinking that you’d find anything there to help you deal with the fact that you’re geriatric, pregnant, and in need of an abortion, with no hope of having one because there are no hospitals, only one doctor who operates out of a simple cabin with barely any equipment or drugs.

Anxiety rises in you again, bringing bile with it. You slink in behind the nearest house and bend over. What little breakfast you had lands before your feet, and you spit away the taste.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck am I going to do?

You take a steadying breath before reappearing back on the street, aiming for your house. So purposeful are you to get away from people, that you don’t notice the tall man next to you before he puts his hand on your arm.

“Hey.”

You start, jerking back before you recognize Joel’s frowning face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, casting your eyes down as you continue your walk. “Just didn’t see you there.”

“Going to lunch?”

“I already ate.”

“All right.” His hand is on your arm again, now effectively stopping you in the middle of the street. He stands in front of you, broad, tall, and smelling of horses.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice is lower now, so as to not have anyone overhear him. “You look a little pale.”

Joel Miller has been nothing but good to you. He doesn’t talk much, and what little he talks, happens in the darkness after you’ve fucked, when there are no barriers left between the two of you. He keeps to himself, to the girl who was with him when he arrived, to his brother. To you, now. You may not be able to make him laugh as Ellie does, but he saves soft smiles for you. He’s loyal, kind, and helpful. And despite all that, you’re going to lie to him.

“I didn’t sleep well.” You look into his eyes, even giving him the ghost of a smile. “You wore me out, but I still couldn’t sleep.”

His face softens visibly, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth as he leans in and whispers: “I’m sorry, darling. Just have to try harder next time.”

Something flutters in the pit of your stomach, but it doesn’t translate to the usual heaviness between your legs. Instead, you just feel sick for having lied to him.

Joel’s hand travels down your arm to your hand, thick fingers quickly squeezing years before letting go.

“See you later?”

You hear the question, know what it means.

“I think I better get a good night’s sleep?”

Joel flashes a sympathetic grin. “Good idea. See you around.”

You watch him stride towards the dining hall, broad back squared, head held high in constant vigilance, even here within the walls of Jackson.

He’ll figure it out eventually. He’s smart. He’ll know something’s up.

You shake your head to get rid of those unwanted thoughts, and then you return to work.

The next morning starts the same way the previous one did: with your head down the toilet bowl. This time you feel even more sick because you didn’t get much sleep, and when you finally emerge out of your house, you run into Joel, who’s halfway up your porch.

“Morning,” he greets you, then stops as he sees your ashen face. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” you shrug, stacking another lie upon the previous one.

“Maybe you should stay home, get some rest,” he suggests, and even if he’s wearing his customary frown, you can hear how his voice is laced with concern. Managing a smile, you brush your arm against his.

“I’ll just get antsy. I’ll take it easy today, I promise.”

He’s happy with that and doesn’t question you when you don’t go to communal breakfast.

For the next few days, you do what you can to avoid Joel. You don’t want him to know that you’re sick in the mornings, don’t want him to touch you and find out how tender your breasts are, don’t want to talk to him or even see him because it only reminds you of the solution you inevitably have to find soon. You’re going to have to come clean to the doc at the very least – unless you try to deal with the situation by yourself somehow. But you have no idea how to do that without hurting yourself, and that’s the last thing you want to do.

Finally, it’s Joel who takes the first step. You have declined his visits for a week when he surprises you by knocking on your door one night. His face is backlit by the porch light that creates a halo around his ragged, curl-prone hair.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m tired,” you mumble, but he speaks your name, and you realize that there is no running away anymore. So, you step to the side to let him in.

He stands before you, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares at the floor between the two of you. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the same spot. There’s dirt from his boots there, but you don’t care.

“Listen, I…” he starts, clearing his throat. “I know nothing’s been explicitly said here. About us, I mean. It is what it is. But I thought we had a good thing going, and now it seems like you don’t want anything to do with me anymore?”

Your stomach drops, and for a moment you fear that you’ll throw up your dinner as well as you did your breakfast.

“Joel…”

“I just want to know if I did something wrong, so that I can apologize and then leave you be.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself to prevent the slight trembling that’s starting to travel through your body. Your nerves are shot, and you press your lips together to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Then what is it?” Now he’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes burn into you.

Does he have to sound so fucking gentle? It would be easier if he yelled at you, or stormed out, or hadn’t come at all, but you should have known that Joel Miller would be so fucking gentle about it.

You take a deep breath, then finally look up into his eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

Joel stares at you, his face blank. There is just nothing there for several breaths before his brows rise and his arms fall to his sides.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.”

He still looks at you like he doesn’t understand.

“But… how is that possible?”

You lean your head to one side and give him a come on kind of look. Joel scoffs, scratches his head, then shakes it.

“Aren’t you too old?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You didn’t know?”

You don’t like the hint of accusation in his voice.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen my healthcare provider in a while!” you snap, now irritated. The change in tone causes in a change in Joel as well.

“If you weren’t sure, then why the hell weren’t you more careful?”

“So it’s my fault?” Your voice is now raised, and your hands come to your hips. “You took one look at me and thought, ‘Oh, this old hag surely has no eggs left’, and then you happily stuck your dick in me, to hell with any other consequences?”

“You should’ve said something!” he growls, now visibly upset. If you weren’t so intimately familiar with just how soft he could be, you’d be afraid of his dark storm cloud demeanor. But you’re not afraid: you’re pissed off.

“I didn’t know,” you articulate. “I haven’t had my period in years, and I’m over fifty! How the fuck could I have known that I could get fucking pregnant!”

“Is it even mine?” Joel retorts, and for some reason, that’s what makes you snap. Before you know it, your palm has connected with his cheek, and you’re pointing at the door.

“Get out. Get the fuck out, now!”

You don’t need to tell him twice: the door slams only a moment after. You’re no longer feeling nauseous, or trembling. You’re just empty inside.

He's back the next morning. You did not expect that, and eye him with apprehension where he stands in the doorway, shame etched into his features.

"Can I please come in?" he asks quietly. You're nauseous again, but you don't want to be a bitch. He's a good one, you know that, despite everything. He deserves a chance.

You let him in, gesture for him to go on through to the kitchen. Following him, you swallow down the nausea, and hope that you won't have to throw up. It would be so humiliating.

Sitting down, you nod to him to do the same. He perches uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, sincere gaze searching for eye contact.

"I'm really sorry," he finally says, his voice low but earnest. "I handled myself poorly."

You give him a Ya think? look but say nothing. He gets the message.

"I didn't expect... or think..." He falls silent, looks down at the scratched surface of the table. You stare him down relentlessly, waiting for him to speak on. He's slowly rubbing the knuckles of his right hand, like they're itchy or in pain.

"I had a daughter, a long time ago. She... I lost her on the first day."

Your heart could break from the choked agony of his voice. Swallowing hard, this time to fight the lump in your throat, not nausea, you reach across the table to put your hand over his.

"Joel..."

He looks up at you, now with a new fire in his eyes.

"It was a long time ago, but I've lived in that pain every day, until Ellie took me out of it. And now... this feels like a second chance."

He raises your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your palm. You stare at him, suddenly wary.

"What do you mean, second chance?"

"To have a child with you."

You stare at him in bewilderment, barely even sure you heard him right. He hurries to elaborate.

"I'll take my responsibility. I'll help you raise the child. You won't have to do it all alone."

You quickly pull your hand out of his, like you burned yourself.

"Joel... I'm not going to keep it?"

Before Joel can say anything, your stomach revolts, and you shoot out of your chair, only just making it to the sink before you throw up. Spitting and turning on the water to wash away the vomit, you cup your hand under the stream of cold water, and drink to eradicate the sour taste in your mouth. Barely having swallowed the water, you throw up again.

Joel's warm body pushes gently against you, and his hand is on the small of your back.

"That's it," he murmurs, "deep breath, you're okay."

"I'm fine," you gasp, trying to breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell that seems to penetrate everything.

"I know," he replies calmly, reaching for a glass and filling it with water before handing it to you. "Here."

You drink carefully, hoping it'll stay down. The cold water chills your entire stomach, but you do feel better.

"Thanks." You glance up at him, hand holding the glass shaking a little. Joel notices, and takes it from you.

"You're welcome. Wanna sit down?"

You nod mutely, and he leads you back to the kitchen table. You can walk by yourself, but it's comforting to have his hand on your back. You're no longer alone in this, and it's a bigger relief than you thought.

You bow your head and hide your face in your hands for a moment, steadying yourself. Hearing the other chair scrape against the floor, you finally look up at Joel.

He looks sad but resigned.

"How far along are you?" he asks quietly. You shrug.

"No idea."

"Probably over six weeks."

You shrug again and draw your hand through your hair.

"I meant what I said, Joel." You try to sound gentler. "I'm not keeping it. I can't. I don't want it."

He casts his eyes down, and for a second you think you see a tremble in his lower lip. Then he sniffles with a grimace and looks up again.

"Okay."

You raise your brows. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"It's not my decision, sweetheart." This term of endearment is new, and you're not sure what to make of it.

"You're not going to try to convince me to keep it?" you dare him, but without vehemence. You're just tired.

Joel shakes his head, but you can see that he has something on his mind.

"Joel?" you prompt, and he finally sighs deeply.

"Are you sure you won't regret it?" His voice is eerily toneless, like he's trying his best not to sound accusatory. You rub your forehead with both palms in an attempt to suppress the headache that you can feel building up behind your frontal lobe.

"I've never wanted kids," you tell him in the same, dispassionate voice. "Not when I was younger, and surely not now. Not in this world, not at my age. Not at all."

He flinches, like your words hurt him, but then he nods solemnly.

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, because the question faced you with the fact that you have absolutely no idea how to deal with this.

"I don't know."

Your voice breaks, and the first tears well up in your eyes.

"Fuck." The tears spill down your cheeks, and you hide your face from Joel, embarrassed by this sudden display of desperation.

"Hey..."

He's around the table in a heartbeat, crouching by your chair and collecting you into his arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we'll figure it out. We'll talk to the doc."

The tears multiply, and you sob audibly from sheer relief of having someone else take charge. You haven't lived with the knowledge of your condition for barely a week, but it has weighed you down more than you knew. And now Joel knows, and he is telling you that it's going to be all right.

"I - just - feel - so - stupid!" you whimper between the sobbing, and Joel strokes his hand down your back.

"Not as stupid as I feel. It's okay, I promise you it'll be okay."

You draw a deep, quivering breath, and square your shoulders. They feel lighter, and you wipe your eyes and cheeks before smiling weakly at Joel.

"Thank you."

"I got you," he smiles back, a dimple appearing in his cheek. You haven't seen it before. It feels like a promise.

Carl, Jackson's doctor, is a GP, but has had to deal with a variety of emergencies over the years. He doesn't bat an eye when you, seated next to Joel, tell him of your predicament, and that you want a termination. He asks for a urine sample, handing you a cup that you, frowning, take with you into the bathroom, do your business, and leave it on the counter, as per Carl's instructions. Coming out of the bathroom, Carl asks you to come back in the afternoon. You agree on a time before you and Joel step out. He squeezes your hand before you part to go to work.

Returning later to Carl's office, you find out that you are, with a seventy percent accuracy, indeed pregnant.

"It's the best test I have," Carl explains. "If a thin film forms over the urine, pregnancy is likely. If not, there is no pregnancy."

"And it couldn't be anything else?" Joel asks, surprising you. Carl looks pained for a moment, and you realize what a difficult question that is. Your hand moves on top of Joel's on the arm rest.

"Given the symptoms; breast tenderness, morning sickness, light cramping... I can't think of anything else to explore."

"How do we stop it?" you want to know. "Can we even?"

"A surgical abortion is technically possible," Carl nods, and you feel your shoulders relax. "I've done it a couple of times before I came to Jackson, even."

"Well, good."

"Is it safe?" Joel's voice seems tight. "Is it doable here, in these conditions?"

Carl hesitates for a moment before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his desk.

"The procedure itself doesn't take longer than fifteen minutes, but our conditions are, as you probably understand, not ideal. I can sterilize the equipment, but our biggest concern, apart from post-surgical infections, is pain relief."

He lets the information sink in before he adds: "I simply do not have the means to sedate you or give you the pain relief that you are going to need. I wish I could tell you this in any other way, but I can't: It's going to hurt a lot."

You swallow tightly. Joel's thumb passes over the back of your hand.

"Okay," you tell him in a small voice. "I don't have a choice. I'm not going to have a kid in this world. There's no way. We have to do it."

Later, after an extensive talk with the doc, you step out onto the main street of Jackson, Joel right behind you. Without words, the two of you slowly walk towards your house. Not until reaching it, do you sit down on the porch steps. Joel sits down next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"That's a hard question to answer," you sigh, rubbing your forehead. Joel sighs as well.

"Yeah."

You sit in silence and watch people go by. Ellie passes further away together with a friend, waving hello to you but not coming over to chat. You and Joel wave back.

"What does she know about us?" you ask quietly. Joel grunts.

"She knows we hang out, that I like your company, but I haven’t told her that we… you know.”

"I’m sure she knows. She's a smart girl."

"That she is."

You wet your lips. "Listen, Joel... I just want to say... thank you, I guess. For being there for me."

"Of course," he replies softly. "And I really am sorry for how I reacted."

"I'm sorry for slapping you."

"I deserved it."

"Kind of." You shoot a quick grin at him, and he grins back.

"Don't think about that," you shake your head. "And I want you to know that you don't have to be involved in what comes next."

"I'm not going to - "

"You wouldn't mind having a baby," you cut him off, "so I'm not going to have you watch me take one away."

"It's not a baby yet," he reminds you pragmatically. "And I said we'd figure this out together. I'll be there, every step of the way. I'll make sure you get through this."

He speaks with a quiet, gentle confidence that makes you want to cry again. You never knew how much you have longed for someone like him.

"You don't have an obligation," you try one last time. Joel turns towards you and cups the back of your head with one large hand.

"I want to be obliged to you, sweetheart."

He leans forward to let his lips brush over yours.

"Let me," he whispers, and you wrap your arms around him, accepting both his offer and his kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x mature!reader

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

cold nights // part nineteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i'm sorry it took me so long to post this omg i am behind on writing bc i'm so sick but i'm also trying to get ahead on requiem BUT-

Important Announcement!!:

cold nights will officially have a season 3! i wasn't sure but i had a good idea for what the epilogue would be and then i realized it would be so much better as another fully developed idea. so, that will be coming soon!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo smiles as you run up ahead of him, picking up his pace slightly and dropping his bag next to yours.

Some of the others are already stripped down to their bathing suits and running down the dock. It is beautiful here, not that he ever doubted you.

He watches as you peel off your dress, another short one similar to the one you had worn for most of the time he'd known you. This one wasn't sewn in at the middle, so you can slip it quickly over your head. Your bathing suit must have been homemade, too, and it allowed him to see how the bruises and scratches on your back were all but healed while you toss your dress to the ground. He notices quickly that it was exactly the same as Lucy Gray's, maybe your mother had made you matching ones. That's so sweet.

Your skin looked so beautifully soft- just like it should have the first time he saw it, spare for the scars on your calf and your arm, it was just what he imagined.

You kick your shoes off, and the wood of the dock is hot against your bare feet as you run down to the end, diving head-first off to the side to avoid jumping right onto any of your friends.

It seemed to Coryo that you weren't afraid anymore as you briefly looked back at him while you were running. The excited scream you let out when you lept from the dock made his heart flutter. This is exactly what he had wanted, from the very beginning.

When Coryo jumps in behind you, you can hear his shout and feel the water shift around you as his body breaks the surface. You turn under the water, its clarity allowing you to see where everyone is. You loved this. The memories of this lake kept you safe, almost. You can hear muffled laughter above the water, deciding to take your time before coming up for air. You didn't need it just yet.

You swim away from everyone deep under the surface, scanning the lake floor for anything interesting. Really, it was just sticks and rocks and mud, but one day you may find something else exciting, but not today.

"Where is she going?" Coryo comments, watching your body as you kick away deeper under the water.

"Wherever she wants." Lennox answers plainly, treading water as he stares at him.

"She's looking for secrets." Maude Ivory giggles, splashing him in the face. At least she gave him somewhat of an answer.

He quickly lifts an arm to block the wave, but it fails miserably. "What kind of secrets will she find at the bottom of the lake?" He coughs out, wiping the water from his eyes.

"Once we found a watch." Lucy Gray shrugs, looking from him to you. "Which is odd because we didn't know anyone else knew about this place. The secrets are what happens when we aren't here."

You hardly noticed the lack of oxygen until it almost felt too late, quickly swimming up and pushing your hair out of your face so you don't inhale it by mistake.

"Anything good today?" Lucy Gray shouts over to you as soon as she's noticed you've come up.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so!" You pant, pushing yourself through the water back toward her.

"So, that's a no?" Sejanus asks and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Just rocks and sticks." You explain, joining them again and bumping shoulders with Lucy Gray. "Some weeds, if that's your fancy."

"Oh, yes, that's right up my alley." Sejanus chuckles, cupping his hands to block out the glare of the sun as he looks down into the water anyway.

"I've never been to a lake before," Coryo says, breathing heavily as the waves from the kids splashing keep coming up too close to his face.

"What? Really?" Lucy Gray and Sejanus ask in unison, and you smile at him.

He nods, eyes locking with yours. You feel the need to say something. "Is it everything you dreamt of?" You ask.

"Just about." He grins.

"Oh? What's missing?" You giggle.

Oh, only being able to hold you without retraumatizing you.

"It's not that anything is missing," He comes up with as an excuse. "There's just more birds than I expected."

"Oh, yeah. They like it out here." You hum, looking up at the trees while Lucy Gray whistles out a tune for them to mimic. You smile. "Why, you don't like birds either?"

"Never been the biggest fan, no." He chuckles.

The birds echo her song back to you repeatedly. Coryo turns around to watch as if there was anything to see besides these black birds flitting around the trees and above the cabin. "What kind of birds are they?" He asks. "I've never seen that before."

"We call 'em Mockingjays." Lucy Gray tells him.

"'Cause they'll mock ya if you mess up the song!" Clerk Carmine jumps in, climbing onto Lucy Gray's back under the water.

"Oh, I wouldn't know." Your friend teases him, gripping tight onto the boy's legs as he starts to shout. He knows what's about to happen, and clearly you do too as Coryo watches you and your brother quickly swim out of their reach and closer to him.

You laugh, watching as Lucy Gray takes a big dramatic breath in and sinks under the surface of the water, pulling CC down with her as he screams and splashes.

The sun dried you quickly after you decided you had had enough of the water, climbing back out onto the dock and deciding to just lay your blanket there to dry off on while you took the book and snacks from your bag.

Coryo had been sitting with Lucy Gray and Sejanus, but they were just talking to each other more than him. Not that he could have paid much attention. He was just watching you.

"Can I go talk to her?" He asks with little regard for the conversation that he was interrupting.

They both look over at him. "I mean, you could try. Would that be okay?" Sejanus answers, looking to Lucy Gray for confirmation.

"No. Let her have her peace and quiet." Lennox interrupts as he walks back up in front of them, pulling his shirt back onto his now fully dried skin.

Lucy Gray sighs."Just... Don't be stupid." She advises Coryo, nodding him on. "Len, we'll be right here."

Your brother shakes his head slightly, glaring between the three of them with nothing short of adamant disapproval.

Coryo nods slightly, taking the preferable answer by getting up and heading back down onto the dock.

Lennox looks back over his shoulder to where he just was with Maude Ivory looking for katniss, before taking Coryo's spot on the deck.

"Did she not tell you anything about him?" Lennox mumbles to Lucy Gray, eyes locked on his sister and her 'friend' as he stands over her. "No, she must have- because you were at The Hob last week. You saw it."

"I saw a girl with a lot of unresolved trauma have an episode." Lucy Gray explains, watching Lennox take Coryo's spot next to her. "He made a mistake, but he wouldn't ever hurt her."

Your brother opens his mouth to argue, but Sejanus interrupts. "I know it isn't my place, but Lucy Gray is right. He would sooner die than hurt her."

"Okay, well, explain how he's sitting right next to her when he's already hurt her so bad she may never recover!" Lennox whispers, gesturing to the dock as if they couldn't already see you there.

"I'm not defending anything he's done. That's not what I meant." Sejanus explains. "I just mean he would never do it on purpose."

"Accidents are clearly bad enough."

"Len, he just wants to make amends now." Lucy Gray insists. "And she wants that. I know she does, she's really trying."

"Listen, if it helps..." Sejanus starts, looking back out at you and Coryo on the dock. He can tell how nervous his friend is, watching you intently as he picks at the wood finish beneath him and listening to you talk. "He really loves her. I know it's not my place to tell you that, but it was bad when she was gone. He hardly spoke a word to anyone, he wouldn't put her book down- it was really hard on him. We weren't sure if she had been executed for cheating, and it was killing him to be left in the dark."

"That's not love, that's guilt." Lennox mutters, watching you closely.

"What's the difference between love and guilt?" Lucy Gray asks him rhetorically. "He wouldn't feel guilty if he didn't care."

"The difference is he wouldn't have come here and made the same mistake again."

Lucy Gray bites into her lip, slightly shaking her head. That was an honestly good point.

"I was in the arena, too. I saw what he did." Sejanus says after a moment. "He saved my life, it was my fault. It was shocking... you know, the overkill, but I can't say for certain I wouldn't have done the same thing. We were both pumped so full of adrenaline that I truly believe that's what it was." He explains. "I mean, I was behind him, so I don't know what she saw- but it looked like adrenaline to me."

"How do you think she felt?" Lennox asks, eyes wide. "She was in there for three days! You and him were there for what, ten minutes?"

"Wait..." Lucy Gray backpedals, looking at Sejanus. "Sejanus, what do you mean you thought he was executed for cheating? Like, in the games?"

Sejanus swallows, nodding. He looks over at you but quickly looks away. "Yeah, uh... Coryo told me that she used rat poison to kill two of the others. And he did something to keep the snakes from biting her, but I don't think he was caught for that."

Your brother and best friend look at each other like they'd just seen a ghost before their eyes simultaneously track to you. You were laughing.

"She didn't... She didn't tell me that." Lucy Gray says quietly. "Did you know, Len?"

"No."

"That doesn't surprise me." Sejanus shrugs and they both look at him, shocked and confused. "Well, she doesn't know either. I don't think, definitely not about the snakes, but she told the Dean it was salt. That I gave her." He laughs slightly at the end, but they don't find it funny. "By the time she left, she was fully delusional about it. She knew what it was, Coryo gave it to her to protect herself because he needed her to win. She was really upset by the insinuation that it, in fact, was not salt."

Lucy Gray and Lennox look at each other again, unsure what to say. It must have been worse than they thought. Regardless, they knew it must be eating you alive.

"Can I join you?" You hear Coryo's voice above you after about ten minutes of listening to the mockingjays sing Lucy Gray's song back to her as she sat on the porch of the cabin. The sun was so warm on your skin that you could have fallen asleep here if you weren't reading your book.

You squint against the sun as you look up at him. "Yes, you may." You agree, and you feel him sitting down next to you as the wood creaks below him.

You find yourself holding your breath, even as you return to your book to try and remain relaxed.

He's not going to hurt you.

"What are you reading?" He asks after a moment, thinking your arms must be asleep for using them to hold the book and support your weight for so long.

"It's called 'Much Ado About Nothing'." You answer. "Another Shakespeare piece."

"Do you like it?" He asks, lifting his leg to rest his elbow on his knee while you sit up, crossing your legs and letting the book fall into your lap.

"I do." You smile down at the page. It is much more lighthearted than Romeo and Juliet, as much as you would have loved to come home and drown yourself in your favourite book- the boy next to you unintentionally made it impossible. God, you were so embarrassed by the letter you wrote to him. Your cheeks flush just think about it. All you did by surviving was make everything weird.

"Another tragedy?" He inquires, attempting to read some of the words on the page as it's opened on your lap.

"No." You chuckle, shaking your head. "It's a romantic comedy, actually."

"Oh, wow. You changed it up?" He asks, only somewhat shocked. It would only make sense that you couldn't handle much more tragedy since you've been home.

"I did." You smile. "It's quite funny."

"Will you read me your favourite part?" He suggests, watching your eyes as they light up with excitement from the request.

"Okay, so..." You quickly flip back through the pages and into the first act, scanning for the lines you're looking for. "Okay. Here." You pretend to clear your throat.

"In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature." You recite, dragging your finger along the page so he can track what you are reading. You remembered it, but it might have been easier for him to follow that way.

Coryo watched you the whole time, and by the end, you were a giggling mess. You thought it was absolutely hilarious, and he smiles at that.

"What does that mean?" He chuckles.

"So," You laugh, a hand pressed to your chest. "Basically, she's talking about how she was arguing with Benedick and won. The punchline is that she let him keep one of his wits, because if she didn't no one would be able to tell him from his horse."

Coryo laughs at that, shaking his head. "That is good." He agrees.

"Isn't it?" You smile. "It's a welcome change of pace."

"Yeah, Romeo and Juliet was... yikes." He says, ticking his jaw and peeling up some of the wood from the dock between you.

"You read it?" You ask quietly, eyes widening as you look over at him. It shouldn't shock you, he told you he would, and that he even looked forward to it. "What did you think?"

"Of course I did," Coryo nods. "I really enjoyed it."

"It doesn't seem like it..." You laugh nervously, looking down as you flip back to the page you were on before closing the book.

"No, truly. I did." He insists. "Just... for lack of a better term, it was tragic."

"Yes, well..." You chuckle, shrugging slightly and tucking your book back into the bag next to you.

"It was heartbreaking!" He laughs suddenly. "And that's your favourite?" He looks at you then, head tilted as he slightly shakes his head.

"Okay, so," You laugh, rolling your eyes. You were used to defending this to others who have tried reading it. "That's what makes it so beautiful. It's so touching, they died for each other thinking they were in love, but they also hardly knew each other. It forces you to wonder what could have been, and I like that."

"Okay, well, you're right." Coryo agrees. "I didn't like the ending, but that's the point, I suppose. The rest was good, it reminded me a lot of you."

"I think I forced a bias onto you. My apologies."

"You didn't force anything on me." He smiles, shaking his head. "All I knew is that you loved it, and that made it so much better."

Your cheeks flush as you busy yourself by pulling out the bag of cherries. "Would you like some?" You offer the bag to him and he reaches in, taking just a couple out and popping one into his mouth.

"I finished it all before you left." Coryo tells you, and you hold him out another empty paper bag to spit the pits into.

"That good?" You smile and he nods.

"Can I..." Coryo starts, and you tilt your head at him. He doesn't want to ruin your day by bringing this up. Everything on your face shows hope, even excitement for what he is going to say. "If you can't hear this stop me, but the book made great company in the mentor hall."

For a moment, he saw nervousness flicker behind your eyes, but still, you nodded. You wanted to hear anything he had to say- you just hoped you could stomach it.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm... I'm glad." You try and smile, distracting yourself by popping a cherry into your mouth.

"I was alone most of the time. I didn't go home." He tells you, trying to say what he wanted but still be as vague as possible.

"It must have been so horribly boring." You laugh nervously, swallowing the cherry pit as you reach for another of the small red fruits, picking the stem from it and flicking it into the lake.

"I wish it was." He replies, watching you closely to see if and when he's crossed a line. You nod in understanding, and he takes a nervous breath in. "I... The alternative was that I got sent home like some of my classmates. I wasn't going to leave until I had to."

'Until I had to.'

So he was forced to go in for Sejanus. Why on earth would they not send peacekeepers? Why another child?

"I... I appreciate that." You stammer out, looking down at your lap, noticing for the first time that your hands were trembling. "That must have been uncomfortable. I apologize."

Coryo furrows his brow at you. "No, I'm sorry. Why would you apologize to me?" He asks. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. That I couldn't get you out."

"You did more than you had to." You say, voice quiet with your honesty.

"No." He shakes his head. "I had to do everything I did. I couldn't let you die."

"You saved my life, and... and-" It happens very suddenly when a tear falls down your cheek; you didn't even notice you were starting to panic.

"No, wait, I'm sorry, hey, don't cry..." Coryo says quickly. He wants to help, to do something, but he feels helpless. Again. He feels sick with the knowledge that he always says the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." You mumble, trying to wipe your eyes but you're finding it hard to speak.

"Don't be, please don't be sorry." He pleads with you, shifting so he's kneeling next to you, placing a hand on your back.

You almost jump away, head flying to look at him. He's just rubbing your back. He's only trying to help.

Instinctively, your eyes search for his. They aren't hard to find, and all you can see as you search them is worry. Nothing malicious. "I... Do you want me to get Lucy Gray? Or your brother?" He offers, grabbing your shaking hands in his free one. "Just take deep breaths."

You nod, scared to look away for even a second. So he has to.

Coryo turns back, swallowing his pride. "Lennox! Lucy Gray!" He shouts, drawing their attention quickly.

He accepted the berating he was about to get from your brother before it even came.

"What did you do?" Lennox asks him, forcing himself between the two of you.

"We were just talking and I think I said something- I don't know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Coryo answers honestly, standing up and taking a step back.

You're watching him, intently, despite Lucy Gray taking over holding you and talking to you in hushed tones, trying to ease your mind.

"I'm okay." You tell her, nodding. You don't look at her, only watching him. Watching his eyes- but nothing changes. Baby blue. Worry. More worry.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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lucygxybaird · 6 months ago

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billy x reader - you feel the baby kick

tw: pregnancy, tw: nausea (mention)

Sitting on the front porch, a pile of mending in a basket at your feet, you lean back in the chair and close your eyes, tipping your face up. A soft spring breeze plays with the tendrils of hair falling from your braid, sunshine splashing into your lap, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear Billy singing to himself as he repairs a saddle in the little shack that passes for your stable.

Oh, how I love her, ain’t that a shame…oh, how I love her, good-bye, Liza Jane…

You smile to yourself, absently humming along. More often than not lately, you’ve started dozing off in the afternoons, a habit which you know alarmed Billy at first — though he promised to fuss over you less (and he’s definitely gotten better), you did overhear him taking the doctor aside after a recent visit, asking if it was normal for you to be so tired.

“Yes, son,�� the doctor had assured him. You’d been pretty sure you could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s perfectly normal, and in fact, I’d encourage it. It’s a lot of work, bringing new life into the world.”

Without opening your eyes, you smooth a hand over your belly, your faint smile widening. Loose nightgowns can’t hide your condition anymore, but you don’t mind, because with every change to your body, you know your baby is growing. Not to mention Billy simply can’t keep his hands off you.

Most often, he’ll start with his hands on your shoulders, coming up behind you and squeezing gently, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Then his hands will slide down your arms, pausing to cup your elbows and pull you flush against him. You’ll relax in his arms, glad to take the weight off the small of your back, and he’ll spread one large, warm palm over the curve of your belly.

“How’re my girls doin’ today?” he’ll ask, which never fails to make you giggle.

“What if it’s a boy?”

Billy always shakes his head firmly. “Mm-mm, that’s my baby girl in there,” he’ll tell you. “I know it.”

When the two of you are laying in bed together, Billy will hold you in his arms all night, both hands resting protectively over your stomach. Other times, throughout the day, he’ll pause just to kiss you — your lips, each cheek, your forehead — before putting his palm against your ribs, thumb moving in soothing circles over the fabric of your dress, which is becoming more and more tightly stretched with each passing day.

“You’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you, smiling in a dreamy sort of way, like he can’t quite believe this life is actually his. Or he’ll ask you how you’re feeling, or he’ll ask you what you did today while he was working, or he’ll tease you with more whimsically intricate Gaelic baby names (Gobnait, Odhairnaith, Dubhghlas, Muircheartach).

Sometimes, when you find yourself worrying — about the pain to come, about taking care of another little living being, about if you’ll be a good mother, a good wife — you think of that smile.

You have always known that Billy’s story diverges from the man, a tributary branching off from a river; the truth was clear, cold water, sweet and filling, but it seemed most people weren’t interested in that. They were rabidly fascinated by that little stream, by the waters churning with blood, spent shells, dirt and sweat. Tears. You love all of Billy, tributaries and all, but you know that he earnestly wants to follow the river, tracings its path to the future. A future with you, with your baby.

When you see his peaceful smile, his contentment radiating from him like an angel’s halo, you’re reminded of how far he’s come. Of how much he deserves this peace, this life the two of you are making together, and you feel at peace yourself. Whatever comes, physical pain or self-doubt, you know you can take it on, as long as you have him by your side.

Which —

Your eyes flutter open as his shadow falls across your face, and you smile up at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

Billy grins sheepishly, shrugging. Rather than loom over you, he kneels beside your chair, putting his hand against your stomach. “Not long,” he says, as you cover his hand with your own. You can smell the scent of leather clinging to his skin, mixing with his natural musk, and you’re glad that your stomach has finally settled. A few months ago, even scents like this — scents you loved — would have driven you to a bucket.

You remember how attentive he had been then — not that he was any less attentive now — even though your illness had embarrassed you. You’d known, logically, that you couldn’t help it, but it had made you cringe, nonetheless. You worried that he would find you disgusting like this, but you should have known better. Billy had never once flinched, instead holding your hair safely back, helping you into bed afterwards, fetching you water to rinse your mouth and crackers to soothe your tender stomach.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” You feel his fingers grasp your chin, turning your face toward his. You smile and shake your head.

“You.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, a faint smile coming to his lips. “Good things, I hope.”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head expansively. “Only about how you repulse me, actually.”

“Ah!” He puts his hand over his heart, as though mortally wounded. You bite your lip to keep from giggling. After a moment of consideration, he says: “That makes having my baby a little awkward for ya, huh?”

“A little,” you agree.

He leans up to kiss you, moving his hand from your stomach to the arm of the chair to brace himself. It’s then, as your own palm settles on the curve of your belly, that you feel it. You gasp against Billy’s lips, and he straightens up at once, his eyes widening.

“What?” he says. “Is somethin’ wrong? Is it the baby?”

You just smile at him, shaking your head. You hold up your free hand, indicating that you need a moment, and Billy sits back on his heels, his forehead still furrowed with concern. “Here,” you breathe, and you take his hand, putting it over the spot where you think you felt something.

“Darlin’, wh—?” His voice falters as he feels the same thing you felt, and his eyes go wide, his face shining like a child on Christmas morning, faced with every gift he could ever want. “Is that…?”

“I think so,” you say, laughing weakly, tears starting in your eyes like a pair of stars winking into life. “I think it is.”

And then it happens again, and you’re certain.

“Billy, here,” you say, taking his hand and moving it to the new spot.

It feels like a fish swimming beneath your skin, a fluttering sensation that reminds you of ripples in a pond — and then —

“Oh!”

The two of you exclaim at the same time, and under normal circumstances, it would make you laugh. His deeper voice melding with your lighter one is like a kitten and a mountain lion being startled in unison. But all you can think about is the strong, solid jab you both felt — you, against the drum-tight curve of your stomach, and Billy, in his cupped hand, as if he’s catching a firefly.

“Do it again,” Billy says, wide-eyed, and you almost tell him — gently — that you can’t really control it, when you realize his eyes are trained on your stomach. “Please? Do it again for your papa, please?”

You both sit there for a moment, waiting, and then —

Another little flutter, like the baby is rolling over inside you, and you guide Billy’s hand over the ballet beneath your skin. There’s another sharp jab to your ribs, right into Billy’s palm. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Billy says softly, and it isn’t until he looks up at you with glittering eyes that you realize he’s talking to you this time. “That’s our baby.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Ours,” you agree. You love the sound of that word.

“And she listened to me,” Billy says, offering you a cheeky grin. “You think that makes her papa’s girl already?”

“What are you going to do when this baby is born and it’s a boy?”

Billy smiles. “Then we’ll name him Patrick William, and we’ll try again.”

You snort, raising an eyebrow. “And how many babies do you think we’re going to have, Mr. Bonney?”

He leans up to kiss you again, brushing his lips, butterfly light, over the curve of your cheek. “As many as you’re willin’ to give me, honey. An’ you know I’ll love every one, whether it’s just this little one, or…”

He cuts his eyes over at you, raising his eyebrows to give you a cue. You laugh and hold up two fingers. “Or two more,” he finishes, and you giggle.

He sits in the rocking chair next to yours, pulling your feet into his lap. “You know it doesn’t matter to me, boy or girl,” he says. “I just want ’em to be happy and healthy. That’s all.”

You lean your head back as his thumbs dig into the arch of your foot. “I know,” you murmur.

There’s silence for a moment, and you let yourself drift idly, relaxing at the pleasure of his touch, of his words.

“I was thinkin’, though…”

You crack an eye open. “Hmm?”

“If we have a little girl…my ma would have liked…I mean, she woulda…she really woulda loved…”

His throat works, and you lean forward, taking your feet — with no small measure of reluctance — out of his lap, taking your hands in his instead. “I know,” you say. “Our firstborn daughter was always gonna be Kathleen Bonney, whether it’s this baby or another one.”

He smiles, his eyes bright again. “Thank you, darlin’.”

You kiss him gently, before pulling back with a grin. “Much better than Gobnait…”

His head tilts back with the force of his laughter, his broad shoulders shaking. “Aw, come on now, you didn’t really give that one a chance…”

“And I won’t,” you say, shaking your head with a giggle. “No matter how many we have.”

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney fanfiction #tom blyth

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wildesqdreams · 2 years ago

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midnight drop

pairing - grayson hawthorne x reader.

summary - a late-night swim in the swimming pool after the shocking will reading doesn't help grayson cool down, but it's a good thing that his girlfriend is there to help.

warnings - spoilers from the book "inheritance games", shirtless grayson + kissing.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: my first grayson fic has finally arrived, yeyeyeyeye :)) i also have to read the third book, but i don't want to, because I don't want the series to end.

y/n sat on the edge of the swimming pool. the sky was dark, but not pitch black, because the stars were visible. even though the girl felt at peace, she felt slight waves crash against her legs, making her lip corners lift.

the reason she was out at midnight was because of her boyfriend. grayson hawthorne. her eyes followed his figure in the water.

swimming laps was his way to relax. to clear his mind. but it was visible that he couldn't get the shocking news from today out of his mind.

even though he wouldn't admit it, y/n knew he was quite upset. she could tell by his tensed muscles and by the tone of his voice, as he spoke, filling in the silence.

the fortune that he should have inherited from his grandfather. the things that he should have gotten, for his hard work and his wasted time, were given to a random girl named, avery. and the question was - why?

why would someone leave something so meaningful to a random person? but in the hawthorne house surprises and mysteries were a normal thing, so the girl couldn't help but smile, when she heard her boyfriend, for the thousand time, talk about how the girl had seduced or manipulated him.

"what?" grayson noticed the grin on the girl's face.

"nothing."

"then what's so funny?" he slightly furrowed his eyebrows as he stopped swimming.

she just shrugged with a smile still on her face.

"y/n."

his stare was intense.

the kind of intense that made grayson stand out. that stare that made others feel threatened or powerless, but for the girl, it was like she was the only girl he could see, while the world slowly disappeared, "it just humerus me how you think that she manipulated your grandfather because he was the real mastermind."

"so funny," he stated, as he rolled his eyes.

she could feel the annoyance in his tone, which made her want to tease him even more, so she continued, "that's what i'm saying."

but for some reason his next move wasn't the one she taught it would be - him getting more frustrated - but instead grayson started swimming towards her, "mhm, yeah, really funny."

"wha- what are you doing?"

"nothing," he said calmly, with a small smile.

sensing that he was up to something, she started to take her leg out of the pool so she could get away, but before the girl could do that, y/n felt the boy's wet hand on her leg, holding her in place, "gray..."

"mhm?" his hands slowly traveled up her thighs to her waist.

"what are you planning?"

a smirk appeared on his face and she felt his hands grip her sides tighter, "i just want to laugh too."

"wait grayson-" but her words were silenced when she felt the cold water.

her clothes, face, and hair were soaked. y/n felt the coldness against her skin, hitting every nerve, that made her immediately come up from underwater.

the girl saw her boyfriend laughing and she splashed water on him, "you idiot!" but that didn't stop his laughter, "it's not funny you asshole!"

"oh, but it is," he chuckled, as he reached for her.

when she felt grayson's hand grab her side, y/n removed from his touch "don't touch me."

the boy smirked, "you mad, princess?"

"fuck off."

"that's quite hard when you're so beautiful," he reached for her side again.

"i'm wet," y/n stated in a serious tone, but when she saw the boy's eyebrows slightly lift, the girl immediately said, "not like that!"

"i didn't say anything," he pulled her closer with a grin on his face.

y/n rested her head on his shoulder, so he wouldn't see her tinted face, "i'm still mad," her hands wrapped around his waist.

"oh, really?"

the girl hummed. she felt his hand move slowly up and down her side.

"well, there's no need to be. i didn't do anything," he added.

she pulled back and stared at him, her arms remaining in their place, "oh, really?" the girl said the same words as he.

grayson gave her a small smile, before leaning in and capturing her lips in his. he grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her, so the girl could wrap her legs around his waist.

y/n's arms wrapped around his neck, "i despise you," she murmured in the kiss.

grayson started to trail kisses down her jaw towards her neck, "we both know that's a lie, princess."

and it was because y/n y/l/n would die for him. her heart beat for him and he was her home. her safety. grayson hawthorne felt the same. that's why their love for each other was magnificent.

"well maybe now you're right," the girl murmured.

he disattached his lips from her skin and looked at her, "i'm always right," and with that, he leaned in for another kiss.

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the hawthorne brothers #hawthorne brothers #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery grambs #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x y/n #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne imagine #grayson hawthorne fluff

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morri-draws · 7 months ago

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Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 15

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,084

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Read on Ao3

[this chapter is explicit]

You awaken the next morning with a pounding headache, tossing and turning for an hour or two before finally accepting the fact that you’re not going to fall back to sleep.

You haul yourself out of bed, head spinning and stomach gurgling unpleasantly. Pulling on your robe, you step out of the bedroom, the sunlight pouring through the main chamber’s windows offensive to your squinting eyes.

Thinking back on the events of last night, you recall Gwaine kissing you, the memory sending a pleasant jolt through your body. Having no appetite for breakfast just now, you decide to see how Gwaine is fairing. Returning to your bedroom, you splash your face with water from the basin, get dressed and run the brush through your hair, which is still holding some curl from last night, so you leave it uncovered.

You knock upon arrival at Gwaine’s chamber door, hearing a shuffling from within before he answers, wearing just a loose shirt and trousers, his feet bare and hair slightly dishevelled.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” He steps aside so you may enter.

“I feel terrible. My head…” You sigh as you step inside, pressing your fingers against your temples. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, just tired really. These days it takes a lot for me to get a hangover,” He grins.

You shuffle to the table and take a seat, Gwaine following your lead and sitting opposite you.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t have much of an appetite,”

“It may not feel like it now, but eating can actually help you feel better. I’ll fetch us something from the kitchens,”

“You don’t have to do that,” You protest.

“Well, I don’t really feel like cooking, do you?”

You shake your head with a smile.

“And besides,” Gwaine continues. “I’m getting hungry. See you soon,”

You stay seated at the table for the first few minutes, but soon grow uncomfortable on the hard chair, so you cross the room to Gwaine’s bed. Your body aches, presumably from the dancing last night, so you lie down, just until Gwaine returns.

You wake up, confused at first as to where you are, until you turn your head to see Gwaine looking at you from the table. You quickly sit up, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I was just trying to get comfortable until you got back. I didn’t plan on falling asleep,” You notice the empty plate in front of him, and the full plate across the table. “How long ago did you return?”

“About half an hour ago,”

You groan as you stand up and head for the table, sitting across from Gwaine and pulling your plate towards you.

“Why didn’t you wake me? Surely the food’s gone cold,” You poke at the rashers of bacon before taking a bite of buttered toast.

“You clearly needed the rest, and besides,” Gwaine smirks. “I liked the way you looked in my bed,”

You cease chewing and look at him, feeling the hot flush coming over your cheeks. He stares back, expression blank apart from a twinkle in his eyes, before breaking into a grin. You shake your head with a smile, taking a bite from a crispy slice of apple.

“Cheeky,” You mutter.

“Only because I like to make you blush,”

“It’s not fair to tease me today, I’m an invalid,” You take another bite of toast.

“Very well, I’ll save it for tomorrow,”

You look up. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I want to take you on another picnic, to the other spot I showed you last time,”

“By the stream?”

“That’s the one. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect,”

After breakfast the next morning, you visit the market to restock on groceries. Once returning to your chambers and putting your shopping away, it isn’t long before Gwaine arrives. You go with him to the stables, where there are three horses ready and waiting, just like last time. He helps you to mount, mounts his own horse and you’re on your way.

Once out of the city walls, you ride along a path that skirts the woods. Since it’s the same path you took on your last outing with Gwaine, you should feel at ease, but you can’t shake the tense weight that has formed in your chest, finding yourself gripping the reins extra tight, your knuckles white. Any rustle or crack from the direction of the woods has you frantically scanning the tree line, searching for any figures, any danger. Your mouth dries up, jaw clenches, and you urge yourself to calm down, to enjoy the day, but your heart thrums in your chest.

A dark shape darts through the trees and you let out a frightened shout, startling your horse, who rears its head and frets. It’s happening again. Your stomach twists as you wait for rough hands to grab you, and you squeeze your eyelids shut, breathing rapidly.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

You hear Gwaine’s concerned voice and open your eyes. He’s turned his horse to face you, his brow furrowed as he looks you over. Your heart thumps so hard, you’re surprised he can’t hear it, and you feel as if you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

“I can’t,” You pant. “I can’t do this,”

You feel too high up, too exposed. You fumble in the saddle, swinging a leg over to dismount clumsily. Gwaine dismounts from his horse, his movement much more practiced, and rushes toward you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Talk to me,”

You glance to the tree line, but stay silent.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine cups your cheek and presses his forehead against yours. “Please tell me what’s wrong,”

You try to steady your breathing, but your voice remains shaky. “Some… someone could be hiding in the trees. I thought I saw… I don’t know… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gwaine,”

Your voice cracks and Gwaine envelops you in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder as he strokes your back gently.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t think,”

You hold him tight, just letting your tears soak into his shirt for a few moments, before he pulls back, holding your face in his hands as he looks you in the eye.

“I promise you, there are no bandits in these woods. They wouldn’t dare come this close to Camelot. In all my patrols, I’ve never seen any bandits hiding out around here. The only things moving about in there are animals. Birds, squirrels… no one is going to hurt you,”

He embraces you again, a hand stroking your hair gently.

“I’m sorry, Gwaine,” You whisper.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,”

He holds you until your breathing slows and your grip on him loosens, when he pulls back and takes your hands in his.

“Do you want to turn back?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I want to keep going,”

“I don’t want you to just say what you think I want to hear. I don’t mind if we turn around. I won’t be disappointed of anything like that. So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want this to spoil our day out. I want to ride on, just…” Your eyes dart to the tree line.

“Would it help if you rode with me?”

“I… I think perhaps it would,”

“Alright,” He takes your horses reins, tying them to his, as he did with the pack horse. He leads you to his horse and gives you a leg-up. Once you’re settled in the saddle, he climbs on in front of you. Slipping your arms around his waist, you rest your cheek against his back and he urges the horse forward.

Riding with Gwaine makes you feel much less vulnerable, proving a comfort to have him so close. While your gaze still wanders to the edge of the woods, his words repeat in your mind: They wouldn’t dare come this close to Camelot.

After a while of gentle riding, you arrive at the clearing by the stream, the area even more beautiful than the last time you saw it due to the changing colours of the leaves. Gwaine brings the horse to a halt and dismounts, offering his hand to aid you in doing the same. You help him to remove the saddlebags from the pack horse and lay out the blankets, Gwaine setting out the plates and food. You notice some of the same items as last time, along with some new additions, such as fruit and custard buns, and the same pies you brought to the indoor picnic in Gwaine’s chambers.

“This looks lovely,” You say as you sit on the corner of one of the blankets, legs tucked under you.

He sits down beside you. “You may have noticed that it isn’t all from the palace kitchens this time,”

“I did notice,” You reach for one of the fruit and custard buns. “From our first meal together,” You hold up the bun with a smile.

“Yes, I think that fact has made me even more fond of them now,”

You think back to your first picnic, and how you quashed the urge to kiss him then. Swallowing your last mouthful of the bun, you lean toward Gwaine, pressing your lips gently onto his.

“You know,” You say as you pull away. “I wanted to do that the first time you brought me out,”

“Really?” Gwaine quirks a brow in astonishment.

“Yes, really,” You chuckle, loading up your plate with a bit of everything.

Once you’ve both had your fill, you put your plate aside and lie back on the blanket, looking through the forest’s canopy to the cloudy sky above. Gwaine shortly joins you, arms folded behind his head.

“It’s so peaceful here,” You remark, taking note of the gentle breeze through the leaves, some of which fall from their branches and slowly flutter to the forest floor.

You shuffle closer to Gwaine, your body pressed against his side, and rest your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around him.

You sigh. “This is much better without your armour on,”

He slips an arm behind your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. You feel complete bliss, as if you’ve never been so comfortable in your life and could stay like this forever. Gwaine lightly traces circles with his finger on the bare skin of your shoulder, just above the neckline of your blouse, your skin sensitive to his touch. The only skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with him, apart from recent kisses, has been your hands in one another’s. His gentle touches now have you wanting more.

You shuffle up, propping yourself on one elbow, your face now level with Gwaine’s, and kiss him, tenderly but passionately. You pull back and look him over, giving him a sly smile, before kissing him again, on his neck, swiftly sweeping your tongue over the skin, as you slip a hand underneath the neckline of his shirt, against the skin of his bare chest. He nudges you onto your back, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the skin of your inner wrist. You watch intently as he plants delicate kisses up your arm, making you wish your sleeves weren’t a barrier between your skin and his lips, until at last he reaches your shoulder, past the neckline of your blouse, and kisses the bare skin along your collarbone. He moves up your neck, every kiss like a pleasurable little spark.

He kisses the curve of your jaw, just under your ear, and you turn your head as he pulls back, lips parted. He lowers again, his lips meeting yours, softly at first, but then deepening the kiss, flicking his tongue over your bottom lip. You reach out, combing your fingers through his hair, as he strokes his fingers down to the hollow of your neck, gliding down until reaching your bodice lacing. He breaks the kiss, pulling back, searching your face for permission. You reach for your bodice, untying the knot and unlacing the first few eyelets. Gwaine takes over, hooking a finger under each crossed lace and pulling it through until reaching the bottom. As he removes the last section of lacing, your bodice falls open, revealing the shape of your breasts under your blouse. Gwaine casts the lacing aside and puts a hand around your waist, feeling the curve of it through the fabric, before moving up and cupping your breasts. You reach for the top of your blouse and untie the drawstring, the neckline loosening around your shoulders and chest. Gwaine hooks his fingers around the edge of the fabric and pulls it down, exposing your breasts. He stops to admire them, his eyes dark with arousal, before taking one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nipple while gently squeezing with his hands. He moves to the other and does the same, before shifting his position and sliding a hand under your skirt and up your leg, his body pressed against your other thigh, where you can feel his hardness against you. A warmth pools between your folds, his evident desire for you fanning the flames of your own.

His fingers brush against the soft skin of your inner thigh, creeping their way up until brushing along the crease where your leg meets your body. He pulls his head back to look at you, his pupils large with desire.

“With your permission, my lady?” His mouth is set in a devilish smile, though he has become completely still, awaiting your response.

You nod. He moves his fingers over your core, feeling the shape of you, then slips a finger between your folds, your slickness immediately evident. He looks up, brows raised.

“Don’t act so surprised,” You laugh. “When you’ve taken your time threatening to make love to me,”

He grins and moves up to kiss you, his hand staying between your legs as he starts to rub small circles over your sensitive bud. He sucks on your bottom lip and slightly pulls back, allowing your sigh of pleasure to escape, before kissing you again, nipping your lip with his teeth. He gives a mischievous smile as he moves back, hitching your skirt up over your knees and lowering his head down between your legs, his hot tongue flicking across your clit. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that,”

He looks up. “Do you not want me to?”

“No, I mean, I like it, just… what about you? Don’t you want anything?”

He chuckles. “This here is exactly what I want,”

You feel your face become hot.

“There are those rosy cheeks I love so much,” He grins, before ducking his head down and continuing, tongue flicking and swirling.

In your building pleasure, you tip your head back, losing yourself in the sky. He teases around your entrance with a finger before slipping it inside you, your breath hitching as he slowly pumps in and out, stroking the place inside which teases the bliss to come.

He works for a time with one finger, while his tongue continues pleasuring you, before adding a second finger, gradually getting faster, his tongue working to keep up. Pleasure builds in your core, and you can feel yourself nearing your crescendo. Propping yourself up again, you watch Gwaine as he works, his dark hair curtaining his face.

He hooks his arms around your thighs, grasping them firmly. Reaching down, you run your hands through his hair, tilting your hips upwards, desperate for release as the sight of him pleasuring you magnifies your sensations. Sensing the crescendo approaching, you hold your breath and brace your body, fist clenched around his dark locks, your core tightening around his fingers until you reach your climax, your entire body releasing, panting moans bursting from you as your core pulses.

Gwaine shifts up and kisses you, the taste of you still on his lips, his fingers still inside you as your pleasure pools around them. Wrapping your arms around him, you hold him close as you ride out the remainder of your pleasure, chest heaving, until at last it calms, your breathing slowing, though your heart still hammers within your chest.

Gwaine gently removes his fingers and rolls over to lie next to you. You nuzzle into his shoulder, resting a palm on his chest.

“Any good?” He asks.

You look up to see him smirking at you.

“What if I said no?”

“I’d say that judging by those sounds you were making, you’d be lying,”

“Then don’t ask silly questions,” You grin.

Slowly tracing down his body with your fingertips, you reach under the hem of his shirt, rubbing your palm along his bare skin, slipping your hand under the waistband of his trousers.

“Your turn now?”

He sighs. “I’m afraid not,” He takes your hand in his, planting a kiss on your fingers as he turns on his side to face you. “I need to head back for training,”

“Training? Should you really be doing that yet?”

“Gaius gave me the all-clear, so long as I slowly work up to things,”

“Might you… skip it, just this once?”

He grins. “I would love to, but I figure, if I don’t show up to training, Arthur will punish me, and he’ll have me polishing boots or scrubbing floors in my free time. But if I just go to training, like the well-behaved knight that I am,” He gives you a sly look. “Then I’ll have the rest of my time free to do whatever I please,”

“That is sound reasoning,” You reply. “So, what about after training?”

Gwaine chuckles, but shakes his head. “I said I’d have dinner with Merlin. I wanted to thank him for all his help these last few weeks. He’s been a good friend,”

Your disappointed must be evident on your face, as Gwaine strokes your cheek with the back of his finger.

“But perhaps I could put it off?”

“No, I don’t want you to put me before your friends,” You reply. “And I’m sure Merlin has been looking forward to spending time with you,”

He smiles and kisses your forehead.

“Since you’re having dinner with Merlin tonight, perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow? Just me and you, in my chambers?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,”

#gwaine x reader #reader x gwaine #sir gwaine #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin fic #bbc merlin fic #gwaine #reader insert #my writing

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slattern-femina · 1 month ago

Text

autumn tint of gold

Summary:

Sid woke up, excited that Haymitch might come home that day. But then he sees Peacekeepers outside of their house. Or- The last moments of Willamae and Sid Abernathy.

Notes:

:') i will be crying about this book forever

from my ao3

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring—

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone—

And all I lov’d— I lov’d alone—

Then —in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still—

From the torrent, or the fountain—

From the red cliff of the mountain—

From the sun that ’round me roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold—

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d me flying by—

From the thunder, and the storm—

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view—

- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe

Sid wakes up under the familiar printed quilt, tugging it over his nose a bit. His nose always gets cold when he sleeps. He has borrowed the quilt since Haymitch went to the Capitol, he had hoped his big brother wouldn’t mind too much. It felt nice to sleep in it like he was close to Haymitch. If he shut his eyes and dreamed really hard, he could feel his brother's arms around him.

With hazy eyes, Sid yawns, before the realization of what day it is makes him leap awake. Ma had said maybe Haymitch would come home today!

Sid gets up, nearly falling out of bed, and goes to the small basin of water beside the stove. He splashes himself once, he’ll want to look his best for his big brother.

Outside, Willamae is tending to her laundry, as always, in the thick haze of the morning heat.

Ma didn’t let Sid watch any of the games. They didn’t have a TV, but even if he could, she said no. She knew her son was alive and would tell Sid that, but she didn’t want him… didn’t want him to see what could’ve happened.

Sid had cried when Louella died. He had heard her family crying that night, even when they tried to be quiet.

Ma went to them and offered to wash Louella’s best dress for her burial, for free of course. It would have to be her second best since her first went with her to the Capitol the day of the Reaping.

Just because he was young, Sid felt the tremendous grief felt by the District. No one escaped it.

Sid didn’t see many people while his brother was gone, didn’t want to. Everyone would ask how he and Ma were, and he didn’t wanna lie. He could tell his Ma was frightened and tired. She looked tired.

But no one deserved to know that. His Ma was amazing. Sid wouldn’t let anyone think poorly of his Ma.

He did see Lenore Dove, though. He had given her the candy, and she gave him a long hug.

She must be so excited if Haymitch comes home today too! Maybe they’ll let Sid come by and feed her geese. Her geese liked Sid, they never bit or hissed at him like they did at Haymitch.

It’s still early morning, so Sid is going outside to see Ma when the door flies open. And Sid hears his Ma screaming. There are Peacekeepers in their yard, and two have their hands on his Ma. She writhes and kicks, but she is dragged inside.

Sid’s eyes go huge. Get off his Ma!

He runs as fast as he can out to try and get to her, crying out. “Ma!”

“What are you doin’?! Let go of me!” She yelps but then hears Sid’s voice. “Sid! Hey! Don’t touch him! He didn’t do nothin’ wrong! Please, let go!”

The Peacekeeper doesn’t even say a word before he uses the baton to strike Ma on her face, breaking her nose. Sid screams. “Ma! Stop! Leave her alone! Ma !”

When the Peacekeeper lifts him to keep him out of the way, Sid wriggles and tries to fight back, managing a good blow on the Peacekeeper’s helmet.

“Dirty mutt,” he spits before dropping Sid on the ground, and stomping on his hand so hard, it cracks.

Sid screams as his little hand breaks under the Peacekeeper's boot.

“Get the hell off him!” Ma cries out.

Sid feels so confused. Why are they doing this?! Haymitch was maybe going to come home today, he and Ma were good, they did everything right to see him!

Did Sid do this? Did he make a mistake? Haymitch told him to be the man of the house and he really tried hard! Haymitch would be so mad at him because Ma got hurt.

The Peacekeepers drag them inside, and Sid feels his hands being tied, and his ankles too. He screams as his broken hand is jostled in the bindings. “You're hurtin’ me…” he whimpers out to the Peacekeeper. He’s thrown on the ground, while Ma’s ankles and wrists are hogtied.

She’s bloody as they drop her next to Sid, and there are tears in her eyes. “Oh, baby, did they hurt you? Sid, look at me, are you okay?”

Be the man of the house, be strong, like Haymitch had asked.

But instead his lip wobbles, more tears streaming down his little face. He doesn’t wanna worry his Ma anymore but his hand hurts so badly. “He stepped on me…”

Willamae nearly snarls and begins fighting violently against her ropes, trying everything to get free of them.

As soon as the Peacekeeper’s came, they were gone again.

Sid looks around, terrified. Their breakfast had been knocked off the stove, and he let out a small whimper. “You’re bleeding, Ma!”

“I know, it’s okay, we’ll be alright,” she says, trying hard to free herself. She groans as she pulls at her bindings, and outside, they see the Peacekeeper’s pouring cans of liquid on their house.

“Ma? What is it?” Sid asks tearfully.

She looks at the scene, then hears the whirring sound and sees the flames rushing up at an alarming pace to their windows.

“Oh my God,” is all she says before she violently starts clawing and fighting her bindings, only staring at Sid, who now sees the many, many flames licking at their house.

“Ma…?” He asks, his voice stuttering, confused, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Why… did they mean to do that?

“Sid, baby, look at me! Look at Mama,” she tells him, trying to keep her voice calm. ( failing .) She is writhing so hard but manages to crawl over to where Sid is, wrapping her body around his. She’ll get out, she’ll get her boy to safety, Haymitch will come home and get him— yes, that’ll happen. She can protect her baby.

Sid looks up at the window, now engulfed in flames. He can hear screaming, maybe… is Haymitch here?!

The smoke is starting to billow into their small house, and Sid is crying now. “Ma, the smoke…” he coughs too, feeling like his throat is being clawed at.

“I know, baby, it’s okay, Ma will— I’m here,” she cries out when she nearly breaks her wrist, but the binding gives, just as the intense flames now reach and engulf their entire ceiling.

“Ma!” Sid screams, terrified at the orange and blue flames, the heat blazing his skin. In that second, Ma has him, she scoops up, cradling him to her body while trying to get her feet free, but her feet are in shackles. Both are choking, their eyes watering, and the flames burst down onto the walls, and then the floor.

In a fit of smoke and flames, they cling to each other. “Ma, Ma- why— Ma, what did we do wrong?!” Sid begs.

Where’s Haymitch?!

Willamae screams as the flames get to her back, she tries to curl herself around Sid, so the fire won’t get to her boy as fast. “Just look at me, Sid. Look at me, I have you—” she wheezed out and clung to her boy even harder.

The flames were abnormally violent like Snow somehow cracked the accelerant to be the most destructive creation that will eat anything in its path. Their house is engulfed in no time, Sid’s bindings only freed once the fire ate away the rope on his wrist, and he was able to hug his mother back, dying in her arms, and she died in his.

“Sid, look at me, look at Ma,” Willamae rasps out. “Don’t cry, Ma. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Sid chokes out, feeling the heat and flames on his body and he screams, hugging Ma tighter. He tries to hug her tighter and take care of her like Haymitch had asked him.

He wasn’t a very good man of the house.

He hopes Haymitch won’t be mad at him.

Sid wishes he could’ve had one more morning of waking Haymitch up, and having his brother smile and laugh at him. Sid shuts his eyes, tries to dream really hard, and feels Haymitch’s arms around him one more time.

#the hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #haymitch abernathy #thg sotr #sotr spoilers #sotr #sid abernathy #ma abernathy #willamae abernathy #lenore dove #hunger games fic #ao3 fanfic #one shot #MCD

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cutestbow · 4 months ago

Text

Notes: I’m finally back (again) and writing for the au!!

: also very unedited!!!

June 9th 2019

Penelope watched as the trees passed and the salty smell of the ocean instantly replaced the smell of sweaty boys.

The Hughes had invited her on their beach trip as a birthday gift, she obviously accepted. But now she was starting to regret accepting.

The reason being she could feel her ribs about to pop due to how tight they had been stuffed in the car. She had been on the verge of tears the whole ride, the only thing keeping her even close to sane being Jack’s stupid jokes here and there.

Luke had noticed Penny’s squirming and discomfort twenty minutes ago, since then he’s been trying to think of ways to help her.

Penelope looked over for a second watching Luke whisper something to Quinn. She watched as he moved over slightly and the sqeezing pain she felt before reduced just the slightest.

She sighed in relief at the sudden feeling, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

“better?” Luke whispered in her ear.

She nodded whispering a soft “thank you”

Luke nodded going back to scroll on his phone before catching the bitchy grin from his brother sitting on the other side of Penelope.

“What?” He mouthed

Jack shook his head, still smirking. “Nothing”

Luke rolled his eyes at his brother antics, immediately going back to whatever he had been doing on his phone.

The second they arrived at the beach Ellen had to verbally scold the boys before they left the car and ran anywhere that they had to help set up their spot on the beach.

It took them about 30 minutes to set up before the boys were moving slow, jim eventually gave up and told them to just go.

Since then Penelope had been walking around the board walk. She couldn’t find anything in the stores she liked specifically so she just decided to save her money for today.

She looked over the railing and out towards the beach, spotting a familiar curly headed boy swimming in the water alone.

She frowned to her self feeling bad for a moment, she thought for a moment before deciding to join him.

“I’m joining you, because you look sad” she rambled, shivering while entering the cold water.

“Sad?” He questioned raising his eyebrow as she swam to meet in front of him.

The water stopped just at his chest, that wasn’t the case for Penelope. The water stopping right at the base of her neck.

“Mhm” she replied, holding herself in her arms.

“Whys that?” He asked tilting his head

“I dunno” she shrugged smiling slightly.

“You’re shivering” he pointed out.

“I’m fine” she waved off, not wanting him to worry about her in the moment.

“You know what I heard” he spoke, his hands sliding to each side of her waist.

“What’s that?” She answered quietly, her heart rate increasing at the sudden touch.

“If you dunk someone who’s cold underwater it’ll make them warm” he grinned as her face dropped.

“Luke no” she panicked as his grip became tighter.

Luke laughed as she tried to swim away from his grip

“Luke stop” she laughed as he fully wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her out of the water.

“1..2..3!” He shouted before slamming them both underwater.

Penelope gasped once resurfacing, watching as Luke laughed when she splashed him with water.

The whole evening was spent with Luke and Penelope splashing and laughing in the water, both of them completely loosing track of time.

“There they are.” Quinn grumbled in an annoyed tone as luke made his way back to the truck with Penelope on his back.

Their laughter slowly died down as they noticed the annoyed and angry faces on the rest of the family.

“Where have you guys, been we’ve been looking for you two everywhere, Luke I called you ten times!” Ellen exclaimed.

“Oh, I didn’t have my phone on me” he replied as Penelope slid off his back, going to stand next to him like two toddlers who just got in trouble for making a mess.

“We probably lost track of time, we were in the water the whole day” Penelope spoke for the both of them, not wanting to throw Luke under the bus.

“Ya think?” Jack replied getting into the car after Quinn.

“Sorry Ellen we won’t do it again.” Penelope apologized.

Ellen sighed, “it’s fine get in the car” she replied in a forgiving tone.

Penelope looked over at Luke smiling at his playful grin before also getting into the car.

#✫彡✧⍟ 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐗 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 ✫彡✧⍟#luke hughes x reader

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lost-walmartbag · 2 years ago

Note

OMGGG IM ACTUALLY THINKING of like a part 3 of the Craig x reader jqjejdj but TWEEK joins the mix. After hearing it that night he could stop thinking about it and wanted to probably fuck y/n with Craig auejeje I’m dumb but I love your writing SOOO MUCHH!!

Warning: All characters are over 18! Swearing! Smut!

Background: After Tweek hears you and Craig at your last sleepover. Craig figures out a solution

Status: Request Open

Previous part

'Plus one'

As Tweek laid there pretending to sleep he felt a surge of emotions hearing the sounds you and Craig were making. As Craig roughly fucked you he felt himself grow harder from the sounds coming out of your mouth. You sounded amazing he wanted to make you sound like that.

He laid there stroking his cock to the sound of your moans as Craig shamelessly fucked you. He heard him switch your position and slam into you again. He whimpered as he heard your moans get louder. Fuck...did you two forget he was here?

"Craig oh fuck~!" You moaned out making Tweek's hand move faster on his cock.

"God...oh fuck..." He whimpered quietly not that it would have mattered because of how loud you two were he probably could have yelled and you two wouldn't have heard him.

"That's it. Tell me how good it feels~" Craig groaned moving even faster inside you filling the room with the erotic sounds of your bodies eagerly craving each other.

Oh god. Listen to him, tell him how good it felt. It was disgusting, perverted, downright wrong, but fuck was it hot. The sound of your moans. The sound your body made when Craig slammed into you like a feral animal. Even the sounds Craig made were sending Tweek over the edge.

Once you both reached your peak, Tweek was right there with you both. He had to bite down on his shirt to keep himself from moaning out as his hand stroked him faster causing him to spill all over his hand. He couldn't get himself to stop stroking until you stopped moaning.

He heard you two whispering to each other but in his own dazed state, he couldn't decipher a single word. Once he heard you and Craig fall asleep he sneaked out of the fort and into the bathroom. He cleaned himself off and splashed his face with cold water. He looked into the mirror seeing his own flushed face.

"Holy fuck."

The next morning he tried his best to act like nothing was wrong. But fuck it was hard. He never saw you as anything other than a friend but after last night he suddenly noticed every small movement you made, every curve under your clothes, the way your lips looked when you said his name.

"Tweek!" You said waving your hand in front of his face trying to catch his attention.

He put his coffee down at shook his head. "Sorry um j-just ru-running slow today."

"You ok?" Craig asked sitting down at the table next to him.

"Y-yeah just n-need to finish my c-coffee." He mumbled as he continued drinking his coffee.

"Ok...well when ya'll wanna do this again?" You asked sitting down next to Craig.

Tweek choked on his coffee. Did he hear you right? God were you planning on fucking Craig again with him in the room again? He could feel his cock straining against his pants at the thought.

"Oh my god Tweek you sure you good?" You asked reaching to pat his back but he quickly stood up.

"I have to go!" He blurted out before running out the door.

You stared at the door for a second trying to process what just happened. You looked over at Craig who simply shrugged.

"That was like weird right?" You asked.

"Oh very fucking weird but it's Tweek he panics. I'll talk to him later." He said sipping his own coffee.

So there he was. He had cornered Tweek in the storage closet at the coffee shop. He was going for a more peaceful approach that wouldn't overwhelm him but when he continued to ignore his questions he needed a more direct approach.

"Now are you gonna tell me what your problem is?" Craig asked crossing his arms and looking down at him.

"N-nothing!"

"I know you're lying now why are you being weird? Is it because me and Y/N kissed?" He asked.

"W-what n-no!" He said looking up at him panicking a bit.

"Then what is it? We had a good time. It was nice. Then you woke up...all...weird..." Craig said his words slowing down towards the end as the pieces slowly connected in his brain. "You...you heard us didn't you?"

"W-what? H-heard you? N-no I uh I don't k-know wh-what you're ta-t-talking about." He said clearly lying.

"Oh my god. You heard me and Y/N having sex," Craig said putting a hand up to his mouth.

"I-I...I just....It was so...so hot." He confessed as his face flushed. God why is he saying this. "Hearing them was so....so fucking hot."

So that's how it started. It took Craig a while to figure out what to do, but when the idea popped into his head, it was hard not to go through with it. The next day, they both came over to your place again for another sleepover. Everything was set up, but you could tell Tweek was on edge.

You all went about the night as normal. You played a movie, and you all laid down. Tweek said he would rather sleep on the couch than in the fort with you and Craig. Once he left, Craig turned to you with a smug look.

Within a few minutes, Craig came out to where Tweek was waiting. He was sitting on the couch fidgeting with his hands nervously.

"She's all ready. She's blindfolded and ready for you, so put this on." Craig said, handing him a blindfold.

"W-why do I n-n-need one?" He asked taking the blindfold.

"Because if you see her, you'll get nervous." Craig explained and Tweek nodded.

Once he got the blindfold on, Craig took his hand, leading him into the fort. Craig guided Tweek between your legs. Craig placed your legs on Tweek's shoulders, causing his breath to hitch as he could feel your warmth close to his face.

Tweek slowly moved closer until his lips came into contact with your slick folds. He slowly stuck his tongue out and slowly licked between your folds. Your taste was intoxicating he didn't know you would taste this good. He moaned softly against you as his mouth worked tirelessly against your dripping cunt relishing in every moan, whimper, and gasp he caused to escape your lips.

"O-oh god~ P-please don't stop~" You moaned out. Tweek groaned at your words and wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you closer and holding you in place.

Craig watched with a smirk on his face. He moved behind Tweek and swiftly took off his blindfold. Tweek looked up at you, his eyes roaming up your naked body taking in every detail until his eyes reached your face.

Craig said he blindfolded you. He said he would, so why aren't you? You looked down at him with a flushed face. It took a simple conversation with Craig for you to agree to be ravished by both of them that night. A conversation Tweek didn't know about.

"Please, Tweek~, please don't stop~ I'm so close~" You moaned out, causing Tweek to blush and continue his tongue movements.

"How does it feel Y/N?" Criaig asked, sitting down next to you and soothingly running his fingers through your hair.

You looked up at him, your face was red, and you could barely keep your eyes open. "S-so good~"

"Keep going, Tweek. Make her cum on your face." Craig said with a smirk as you leaned your head back moaning louder.

Tweek slowly brought his fingers to your entrance gently pushing two inside as he applied gentle suction to your clit. You arched your back and moaned louder. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you tighten around that until it became too much.

"Tweek~!" You moaned out as you came on his fingers and tongue.

Tweek pulled away, licking his lips. You looked up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He leaned in, placing his lips against your. The kiss started off surprisingly innocent, a pure representation of years of hidden emotions between you two. The kiss quickly became heated, and as your tongues connected, you could taste the remnants of yourself. Once you both pulled away Craig smirked.

"We're not done yet, sweetheart. You have to take care of us." Craig said, pulling down his sweatpants enough for his cock to spring out.

Tweek bit his lips and followed suit. He pulled down his own sweatpants and stroked himself above you.

"Please Y/N please let me be inside you~" Tweek begged as he thrusted into his own hand desperately.

"You gonna deny him when he's this needy?" Craig teased as he stroked his own cock.

You shook your head and got on your hands and knees in front of Craig and presented yourself to Tweek.

"Please Tweek please fuck me~" You begged turning your head back to look at him.

Tweek gently put his hands on your hips and lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly guided himself inside you, causing you both to moan as he buried himself inside you.

"Oh Tweek~" You moaned out

"Oh fuck you feel amazing~" Tweek moaned as he started thrusting inside you.

Craig grabbed your chin gently bringing your attention to him. "Didn't forget about me did you?"

"No~ I'm sorry~" You managed to moan out and slowly brought your head down, taking him into your mouth as Tweek thrusted into you.

"Just like that, such a good girl," Craig groaned, pulling your hair into a ponytail and slowly guiding your movements.

Tweek watched as you sucks Craig's cock only heightening his own arousal. He thrusted faster, gripping your hips to keep himself in control. The room filled with moans, skin on skin, and soft gags.

Craig gripped your hair harder as he thrusted into your mouth. You could hardly breath but fuck that didn't matter right now you felt too fucking good to care. Tweek was thrusting harder, but it felt like he was holding back so he wouldn't hurt you. Craig, on the other hand, didn't care at all. He loved the idea of pushing you to your limit. The mear thought that he could break you made him thrust into your mouth faster.

Tweek pulled your hips back into him, slowly letting his self-control slip as he grew closer and closer to his own orgasm. And by the way your pussy gripped onto his cock he knew you were close too. He looked up, seeing Craig's face twisted in pure pleasure.

"She feels so good~ I can't hold back much longer~" Tweek said, his voice strained as his cock twitched inside you.

Craig face fucked you harder as he grew closer to his release. You moaned loudly around Craig's cock as you came onto Tweek's cock making him thrust faster.

"Give it to her she loved being covered in cum" Craid said with his own strained voice.

Tweek quickly pulled out just in time to cum onto your ass and back. Craig groaned as he thrusted into your mouth one last time, bringing your mouth down to the base as he shot his load down your throat.

He kept you down for a second before eventually pulling you away from his cock. You gasped for air and laid on your stomach as Tweek cleaned you off with gentle care.

"Y-you ok Y/N?" Tweek asked, gently stroking your hair.

You nodded, still not being able to form an actual response. Craig laid next to you and wrapped his arms around you. Tweek laid on your other side and hugged you from behind.

"Did we hurt you?" Craig asked softly.

"N..no.." You muttered, burying your face into his chest.

"Try to get some rest Y/N." Tweek whispered kissing the back of your head.

Craig chuckled and kissed your forehead before speaking. "You're gonna need it for round two."

A/N: OK, so still not good at writing smut but yeah, this is the third part of my mini Craig series that was supposed to be just a one-shot but turned into a trilogy. I'm not complaining, though. You all seem to love it, so I am at ya'lls service. And don't worry if I haven't gotten to your request yet! I'm a little behind, but please keep sending them in. I promise in like two weeks my inbox will be empty if ya'll don't keep sending ideas 😭. but anyway, thank you for reading! Love yall 🩷

#south park x reader #fanfic #south park #south park x you #x reader #craig tucker x reader #tweek x reader #craig tucker #sp craig #tweek tweak #sp tweek

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