King of Dramatics
pairing: beau maxwell x reader
warnings: mentions of blood, a small argument, cursing, kissing, slight jealously. straight fluff, pet names, reader has a fear of blood
a/n: i love beau so much. like thats my baby. a quick blurb xx
wc: ~0.9k
“Beau.”
Silence aside from the hum of gossip leaving the T.V of some random reality show you left on when you were eating pizza.
You roll his eyes at his dramatics.
“Beau,” You repeated. “It was just a follow request.”
He lets out some pathetic noise, some sort of grumble mixed with a huff. You raise an eyebrow as your eyes catch the faint shape of pouted lips from his turned head.
A few beats of silence pass by and it was quiet enough that you could hear Dean upstairs on the phone with Allie, someone in the bathroom and outside.
You finally speak.
“Are you seriously pouting?” You comment bluntly.
“No.”
You snort, “So now he speaks.”
He whirls his head towards you, eyes narrowed. “I could always speak.”
You hum, leaning away and settling into the couch.
“You could’ve fooled me,” You murmur, fingers mindlessly fidgeting with a piece of your hair. “My boyfriend, star Quarter-back, not answering me.. Ignoring me..”
“I wasn’t.”
You continue on playfully, “Ignoring me all because some guy followed me on Instagram.”
He goes quiet again.
You smirk, throwing a pillow at him. “See? I was right, babe.”
You expect him to answer but you get the response of him grabbing his phone and leaving the couch. Leaving the off-campus house in general.
You sit up, blinking. “Hey! You can’t just leave! You’re the one that invited me here!”
You got zero verbal answers.
With a huff, you lean back on the couch and increase the volume of the show.
“Whatever, you do whatever you want to do. Not my problem,” You mutter to yourself, too annoyed with the whole situation to notice the footsteps heading in your direction.
“Not my problem at all. I’m not in the wrong, tell yourself that,” You continue, “I—“
A loud clang and a scream of pain.
“What the fuck, Tucker!” You shout, your hand shooting out instantly to the back of your head.
Tucker gasps, dropping the metal frying pan. “Oh my god, I am sorry! I thought— Oh my god, there’s blood. Don’t move—Garrett! Call Beau— Or Hannah!— Oh my god, I’m a murderer.”
You squint your eyes. “Blood? I’m bleeding?—“ You slur out, blinking as your vision swims. “Tucker, I swear if I have a concussion..”
He smiles sheepishly, guiding you so you lay on the couch again. “You don’t! I’ll make you some pasta, yeah? Just—“
The scent of iron hits your nose.
Yup.
That’s blood.
And you hate blood.
Growing queasy, you swallow as you feel yourself tune out. “Tuck, I’m going to pass out. Call—“
But then you’re out.
Tucker curses as Garrett finally arrives downstairs and blinks.
“I’ll call Beau.” He states matter-of-factly.
-
When you gain consciousness, you feel a pair of lips against your face. You groan, moving away. “Get off..”
“No.”
You groan again, finally moving away. “Yes. I’m annoyed at you.”
He rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I think it’s the other way around, baby.”
You feel a cool sensation on the back of your head and you remember the frying pan.
“Is Tucker dead yet?”
In the background, you hear him chuckle nervously.
“Nope. He’s still standing.” Beau points out before sitting up. “You okay though?”
You hum, shifting. “I guess.”
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You guess?”
“Well, considering my boyfriend got up and left without a reason, I have every right to be ‘okay’ after being hit by a pan.”
“That was in the spur of a moment thing.”
“For not a big deal.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was?”
“Wasn’t,” You sing song. “And for your information, I declined the request.”
Beau instantly melts. “You did?” He looks up at you expectantly.
You smirk. “I was lying.”
He whines, falling back and flopping around.
You giggle, reaching over to grab his jaw. “I’m joking, Beau-Peep.”
“You’re going to kill me one day, girl.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Since you called me a ‘girl’, maybe you shouldn’t get a kiss.”
Oh, he’s quick to react to that.
“What? No. I’m sorry, baby. Gotta give me a kiss after the day I had.”
“Did you get hit by a pan by a hockey player?”
He looks sheepish.
“No.. But my girlfriend almost got stolen from me.”
You smile softly, leaning in. He does at the same time, your lips locking gently. It was always so gentle and sweet with him.
“I love you, Beau.” You murmur softly against his lips, brushing your fingers along the back of his neck. You try to get up.
Beau murmurs a tired “Love you more” back to you. He makes a soft noise, already latching his arms around you. “No. Don’t leave me.”
You laugh, warm and fuzzy. “Baby.”
“Please.”
Who are you to deny him?
