#I JUST KNOW THEY SIT ON THEIR PORCH DRINKING COFFEE AND ARE LIKE

[imrtale]

joey bites the urge to laugh, shakes his head as a snort could be heard somewhere underneath his breath. "who would have thought you, of all people would be asking me for my number. world has to be ending." a tease, spares her a look and raises a brow, lips curving into a softer version of his usual smile. "it means doll." a quick answer, lowers his head a little bit so it's a more private conversation. "i can teach you spanish but," a shrug, casts his gaze back to the groom and the arlen's. "you'll have to meet me at eden's for a coffee." says it so suave that he isn't sure sienna is picking up what he means but he says it nonetheless, zachary manages to find himself besides sienna, arm around his sister's shoulder as he raises a glass to joey, handing him one of apple cider instead. a thoughtful gesture that joey accepts with a smile. "if it isn't my two favorite people in the world. what are we talking about?" a tease, usual behavior from the firefighter as tommy shushed him. "pops is comin', i don't want a lecture on how we don't have inside voices again." a mention to earlier conversation as the two had a very, very passionate discussion on who would be the drunkest.

it's almost unnerving how still cain stood, touch soft, compared to his usual demeanor. basking in the moment for what it is and what it could be. whatever came tomorrow, he'd handle it tomorrow. he had eris, here in his hands, and that's what mattered. whatever tomorrow had in store for them, didn't. if he worried about what could happen and not what was happening, he could never be happy. the soon to be sheriff, nearly leans into her touch, almost as if he's touch starved because he is. and for a moment, he's happy. not that he wasn't before but this . . . is a different kind of happy. a high he's still on when she pulls away and he steps back too. ensuring that she has her space as does he. hands come to rest at his hips out of habit as he presses his lips together, almost as if he's reliving their kiss. hand wafts in the air that he agrees with the idea, left in his own thoughts as he watches the door close behind her. "jesus." a drawn out curse almost as he looks at himself in the mirror. "really did yourself one arlen." he whispered to himself, white knuckle grip against the counter as he tries to gather himself. chest tight and breath quickens for a moment as he reaches for the faucet - allowing the cool water to touch burning skin. drinks some of it, uses the rest to wash his face and pats himself dry with handtowels. there was always this underlying fear that lurked beneath his cracked armor and it just seemed to seep out of the said cracks for a moment, trembling hands are closed into fists as he reminds himself to breathe.

free hand is raised to show his innocence, lips pressed together to conceal his laugh. "mouth is sealed. nothing is coming out of my mouth." he whispered to his sister, canting his head at her for a moment before speaking. "heard what you did, back at the station." joey's never said thank you a day in his life, not that he's a prideful person, he doesn't really know why he doesn't say it - just doesn't. "thank you." words feel foreign, but he says it anyways. karisa takes her best friend's hands and let's out a laugh. "well 'course he was, he's only been in love with you since the dawn of time shortstack, i couldn't see him having any other reaction." a short reassurance as she walks in step with her best friend, snagging a glass of champagne on the way in as she notices cain taking his sweet time to get to the crowd. "i'll meet you there? it'll only take a second." she tells the bride, turning to face cain who was clearly lost in his own thoughts. "you look like somebody stole your bike." karisa pointed out, brows furrowed as she sips her champagne. his own hand is rubbing against his chest, almost as if he's trying to soothe this panic that is spreading. "oh, oh," karisa says, throwing back whatever is left of her champagne and ditching the glass. "ain't doin' it tonight, cain. look at me, deep breaths and think about cassie. her, really silly drawings, her laugh and everything that drives you crazy. you know, like when she and nikki took crayons and colored the walls?" karisa asked, teases, laughs and cain shook his head. "not funny," but karisa merely rolls her shoulders. "whatever this is you're feelin' it'll pass, whatever's got you worked up. just think about tonight. whole family's here and we've got an announcement we're going to miss if you don't get your shit together now, come on." southern charm, little sister routine as cain laughed. "this used to be the other way around."

"things change," hands come to readjust his collar as she pats his chest, head juts to the entrance of the hall. "and i got a date, so, get it together, i owe him a dance and a glass of champagne, amongst other things." turning on her heel, cain face contorts into one of disgust. almost as if the two are teenagers again. "does the old man know? you're disgusting." childlike insults as he joins the crowd, finds himself next to his own brother as karisa manages to snag two glasses of champagne, steals rowan and places herself besides winnie and joey. "heard i've got some catchin' up to do." karisa whispered to winnie, eyeing joey and offering him a wink. sister's intuition. benji welcomed eden back with an open arm, pulling her close as mr. arlen finally takes a seat, mrs. arlen behind him with a hand on his shoulder. "you ain't ever goin' to believe what i just saw." samuel whispered to his wife. "cain and eris in the bathroom." a confession that brings camille's hand to her lips. "and, karisa brought herself a date, no introductions or nothin'. we got, jackie finally actin' on his feelings, joey's makin' a move on sienna. what isn't happenin'?" samuel continued, scoffed and turned to benji who had cleared his throat. "uh, i want to first say, thank you for coming here today and sharing our special day with us. there are times where, it's good to be surrounded by people who are important to you, and for us, me, this is one of those times. i hope that you're enjoying every bit as much as we are and i'd like to thank you from the bottom of my heart." benji begins, eyeing the small crowd of friends who had ultimately became his family.

"unfortunately - it's not possible to have everyone we love here, with us today but we've got them here with us in spirit. and i know that, my dad, ben and grandma millie would've loved and been overly excited with uh, the news we're about to share with you all, so, uh, i'm going to stop talking and i'll uh, let eden, my wife, take the stage." a laugh as he turns to eden.

everyone seemed genuinely happy for them, and that was heart warming in itself. of course there would be a part of eden that wished her brother had been there today, that he'd have walked her down the aisle.. and a part of her that wishes she could've seen her grandmothers excitement over the idea of a grandchild. grandma millie would've knit clothes and told everyone in the town, ten times, that she was going to be a great grandma.to most that'd seem cringy, but there's nothing she wouldn't give for her grandmothers pride now. in part, people being excited and happy for them, reminded her of it. maybe she could try to enjoy it at least in a fraction of what she would have. what had melted her heart was how her husband went out of his way, to make sure two seats were left at the front when she'd walked the aisle, so in spirit their was a front row seat, for grandma millie and ben.. like he knew that her heart needed to acknowledge that even when they weren't there, they were. that was the thing with grief, it never really left. it came back for you in your happiest days and reminded you what could've been and what no longer was. it came for you in the dead of night, it came for you on drunk walks home, it came for you in bathroom stalls, everywhere. the one thing that stopped her crying for their absence today, was the idea of how they'd have been so happy welcoming benji officially, into their family. grief wouldn't win her today.

"you think i have your number?" like she said, she'd not liked him... she might have had it all those years ago in high school but why would she have it now? now when she thought he'd forgotten her name? "what does that mean.. you've used muneca more than once, a few times actually, that seems to be what you call me the most and.. fun fact, failed every single language i tried to learn. not my strong suit." sienna rolled her eyes at him quickly. "the steel was already there, you're as bad as me." she mumbled the last part. "you could give me it." she whispers, as they stand and wait. "your number."

eris didn't know how they were meant to figure things out, she didn't know where to start trying to be.. better, closer, but she thought this was that. she'd not even considered how she'd be that at work, and she wouldn't. work was work, she was there to do a job and protecting people, was that job. the way he said darlin' had always relaxed her nerves in some way, maybe because she felt like it was a title crafted purely for her. god what was she doing? what the hell was she doing, wasn't she technically kissing her boss? if you could call the featherlight push of her lips, kissing... she was so gentle. she watches the pause of his hands, just her face right? jst her face, just cain.. it was just cain, so she gives a small nod. his hands on her face, they were there and she kept saying it inwardly, that it was okay. it was fine. his hands were just that, just a gentle, loving touch. rough and worked but.. slow. she knew her heart still wondered why she was doing this to herself, why she didn't plunge completely in and not look back, but her brain fought against that.one of her hands hovered between them, hovered and clearly wanted to do the same, to try and.. touch his face, to do something like she was meant to. slowly her fingers inched forward and god, for a few minutes they were normal, normal people that wanted to kiss each other and then her hand pulled back, like a memory jumped to the front of her mind. "sorry."

"no. jackie. i liked the overdoing it... i actually used to brag, so much about the mystery of the balloon locker boy. you might think too much but, i think you created some of my happiest high school memories without even realising it." winnie spoke as she followed and finally uncurled her arms, she did have to reach for his arm though, wobbling in heels when you'd had a drink wasn't a pretty look. "just... just stop trying to be what you think i want, when you already are. idiot."

eris nearly jumped out of her skin and for the firs ttime ever, cain would see just how flustered she could get, given her cheeks burned a fire truck red right now. "shit." she cursed and just like that, it was like the idea of touching him anymore today ceased, but she did accept his blazer jacket. joey would freak seeing any blood on her, but it'd be in the best way, a way that she knew was her brothers protecting her. it was a little big on her but, either way... it worked. "i'll go out first you uh, go after me but not immedatietly it'd look really obvious okay?" yeah, because now it felt like a secret. after a few second she slipped herself out and.. did not address any of what just happened or agreed on what they'd say, none of it just, made a bee line to stand beside her brother. "say nothing." she spoke quickly when he opened his mouth. "say nothing joey. i don't want to have to break your arm, but if you say a damn word i will." she grumbles quietly but with conviction.

eden couldn't help but squeak with her in excitement and throw herself into her best friends arms. no crying. no more crying. "so much! so so much and it's going to be a journey and some days are going to be crappy and not fun and— 'risa we're meant to go announce it to a room full of people and you know i hate crowds, come with me, please? just.. " she gave that pleading, puppy eyed look. already, she wanted to plan everything with her, with them, and eden was pretty sure she didn't deserve all the love her best friend gave, but god there will be days she needs it. "'risa he was so happy.. he was so excited." there was that hint of sadness, that give away that she'd expected something else and convinced herself of it. "he really just, he hugged me so tight i don't think i've ever seen him smile that wide." and then she takes her best friends hand and encourages her inside. "come on then, i want to see you catch up to winnie after this!"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

dealer

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, female receiving oral, mentions of p in v sex, kind of shy/anxious!reader, dealer!rafe, no drug taking is actually done but mentions of weed and coke

“tina, i love you, i really do, but im not buying weed for you.” 

“its not buying! ill give you the money, just go pick it up from my dealer for me.” tina hands you a wad of cash, forcing it into your grip.

“what if i get caught with it?” you question, nerves already flooding your system. you aren't a complete straight edge, you're willing to drink occasionally and you've been to a couple parties before, but illegal drugs are way out of your comfort zone.

“relax, it's just weed! it's not like im having you buy coke from him or something.” tina laughs, and you wonder how this wild child became your best friend. 

“he sells coke?” you squeal.

“listen, babe.” tina places her hands on your shoulders. “you need to live a little. get out of your comfort zone. im not saying you need to take drugs, but you can at least go and pick some up for me.”

“fine.” you sigh, pocketing the cash.

“great!” seeing tinas wide smile, gracing her gorgeous face, is the only reason why you actually agreed to this. “he already knows im sending you to pick it up. he says it has to be today and ive got work.”

“you knew id agree?” you question. 

“of course.” tina shrugs. “you're my best friend.”

“alright, alright. good point.”

--

your eyes are wide as you approach the imposing house. you hesitate on the front porch, but ultimately force your hand to raise and knock on the door.

it opens a few moments later, and you’re not sure why you're surprised at the sight of the dealer. he’s put together and handsome, whereas you expected him to look disheveled and strung out, but you suppose that's more of the user than the seller.

“y/n?” he questions, looking you up and down. you hesitate to respond, your name sounding so smooth and silky coming from him. “picking up for tina?” “oh!” you nod quickly. “yes, yeah. sorry.”

the dealer smiles at you, clearly amused by your nerves. “i’m rafe. come in.”

you follow rafe into the house, shutting the door behind you. he leads you into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch. you slide onto the soft material, not sure if this is normal or not, you’ve never bought any sort of drugs before.

“can i get you something to drink?” rafe asks.

“uh-” you clear your throat, looking around the living room to avoid making eye contact. “water is fine.”

rafe nods, leaving you alone in the spacious room before returning with two glasses of water, one with ice and one without.

“didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, take whichever.” rafe sets them both in front of you on the coffee table, and you reach for the one without ice, taking a polite sip. you’re too nervous to really drink it, but want to be courteous. you’re not sure if rafe is dangerous, he doesn’t really look it, but he must be by nature of being a drug dealer.

“let me grab you tinas weed.” rafe says, exiting the room again to return a moment later, with a baggie of weed in his hand. he sets it on the table, taking a seat on the arm chair across from the couch, facing you.

“tina gave me $50.” you say, pulling the cash out of your pocket and setting it on the table next to the weed. “is that good?”

“yes its good.” rafe laughs, not even bothering to grab the cash off the table and count it.

“i-i don’t smoke.” you say, unsure why you felt the need to make the confession. “or do any drugs. so i don’t really… know anything.”

“would you like me to teach you?” rafe asks, making your eyes widen as you shake your head no.

“i just wanted to explain why i’m so nervous.” you say, hands wringing together on your lap, wanting to escape the house.

“its cute.” rafe simply says with a shrug.

“whats cute?” you hum, confused.

“how nervous you are. you’re adorable.” rafe explains, making you blush and stare at the floor, muttering a quiet thank you.

“i should go now.” you say, needing to get out of under his intense gaze.

“let me walk you to the door.” rafe says, standing. you grab the bag off the table, putting it into your back pocket, regretting not bringing some sort of purse or bag to carry it in.

you stand up, tracing your steps through the complex house back to the front door. “thank you.” you say when rafe opens the door for you.

“no problem, y/n.” rafe practically purs your name out. “tell tina to call me when she gets home from work.”

“did i do something wrong?” you question, suddenly worried until rafe lets out a soft laugh. 

“not at all, baby.” you want to jump at the pet name, but simply nod and head out the door, not glancing back even though you can feel rafes intense eyes on you.

--

“rafe wants you to come to the party this weekend.” tina says.

“no.” you shake your head. “no way.” “come on.” tina flops onto your bed, batting her eyelashes at you. “he said he’d give me my weed for free if i get you to come.” “tina, no! he’s… he’s too intense.” “oh my god.” tinas jaw drops open. “did he flirt with you?” “i… i think so? he called me cute and-” you can’t even finish your sentence as tina screeches. “oh my god!! y/n you have to date him, he’s like the biggest catch on the island!”

“he is a drug dealer, tina! i’ve never even smoked weed and he fucking sells coke.” you whisper the last bit.

“he doesn’t like his girls to do drugs anyways.” tina shrugs. “it’s been like a year since he dated anyone though, and i’ve genuinely heard he’s a really good boyfriend. you remember lily? she was so sad they had to break up, said she only did because her family was moving to california.”

“how good of a boyfriend can a drug dealer be?” you question, not sure how it would be to be mixed up in that world, even if rafe was clearly small time, selling only to his peers on the island.

“think about it.” tina says. “he has a ton of cash, can buy you whatever you want, can get me free weed.” “what if i don’t want to fuel your addiction?” you question, but a smile plays on your lips. tina only smokes every once in a while, and she is by no means addicted, otherwise you wouldn’t agree to have bought the drug for her.

“please come to the party.” tina says, completely switching the subject. “for me.” she pouts, causing you to groan and lean your head back against the pillow while tina thanks you, knowing that means you’ve conceded to her.

--

“y/n.” the voice that you would recognize anywhere purrs into your ear. you whip around, coming face to face with rafe. “i’m glad you could make it.”

“i came because tina asked me to.” you say honestly. 

“ill make sure to get her her weed for free then.” rafe says with a nod, keeping true to his word.

“why did you want me to come?” you question.

“is it not obvious?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “i like you.”

“oh.” you blush, dropping your gaze down. “um… thanks. i like you too.” you know it's in a different way than rafe was implying, but honestly don't know what to say in response.

“yeah?” he questions, a smile playing on his face, completely ignore the guy who you assume must be his friend as he walks by and slaps rafe on the shoulder in greeting. “you like me the same way i like you?”

“it depends i guess…” you're truly trying to flirt back at this point, hoping your nerves don't give your voice a quiver. “how do you like me?”

“well.” rafe smirks, his eyes slowly sinking down your front, looking over your party outfit, a tight dress that tina insisted that you wear, borrowed of course out of her closet. “i want to get to know you better. take you out on a date. show you a good time. kiss you.” rafe leans in, teasingly close until you're able to feel his breath over your mouth. “and if you'd let me, take you up to my room. show you a good time.”

“oh.” you blush, cheeks surely flaring red. you have to clench your thighs together slightly, and it certainly doesn't go unnoticed by rafe. “i guess you could take me out on a date.”

“perfect.” he smiles, another grin that makes you want to melt into a puddle on the floor. he glances towards the door as a new man walks in, looking out of place compared to everyone else, his long black hair tied up in a ponytail. “ive got to go work for a bit, doll. enjoy my party with your friends, ill find you before the night is over.” he leans in, head turning at the last minute to press a delicate kiss to your cheek. 

rafe walks away and greets the man, his demeanor instantly changing from flirty and sultry to smiling and friendly as he claps hands with the new man, who you hear rafe call him barry.

“holy shit, holy shit!” tina runs up to you. you didn't even realize she was watching the entire interaction, so caught up in rafe.

“he wants to take me on a date!” you whisper-scream to tina, well aware that rafe is only on the other side of the room.

“you said yes, right?”

“girl, of course!” --

“hello beautiful.” rafe smiles as you open up the door. you’re glad that your parents are gone for the weekend. they never really care who you’re dating, having developed a lot of trust in you, but you didn’t even want to introduce them to rafe.

“hey rafe.” you smile back, accepting the kiss onto your cheek when he leans forward.

“got us a nice reservation at the country club.” rafe says, hand coming to the small of your back as he leads you towards his truck. he helps you climb in, not wanting you to fall in your heels.

“im really excited.” you admit after rafe rounds the hood and gets into the drivers seat, smoothly backing out of your long driveway.

“not nervous?” rafe questions, calling back to your meeting.

“im not buying drugs from you, so i think im okay.” you giggle, although you do have a bit of anxiety building, but only in the form of slight butterflies in your stomach.

“i like that you’re not a part of that scene.” rafe says, reaching over and looping your fingers together, resting your joined hands on the center console.

“you probably have a lot of girls try to date you to get stuff for free.” you assume.

“yeah.” he admits with a sigh. “don't get me wrong, i get it comes with what i do, but its frustrating to never know if someone is seriously into me.” you’re surprised by rafes confession, seemingly overly intimate and vulnerable for someone with his persona. you lean across the seats as he stops at a red light, pressing your lips to his cheek.

rafe smiles at you, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “can’t wait to kiss you when i drop you off back home.”

“talking about kissing me and haven’t even taken me on the actual date yet?” you say with a laugh.

“baby, i could take about eating you out or taking you from behind or kissing you. all of them are going to happen very soon.” your cheeks turn red as you swallow, suddenly turning silent as rafe pulls into the country club.

you’re not surprised how rafe is recepted as he leads you inside, the wait staff not even having to ask his name, already calling him mr. cameron before leading you towards the reserved table.

“this is really nice.” you admit with a whisper. you’ve never been inside of the country club before. you had heard that they have a pool, golf course, a bar restaurant area and then the fancier restaurant that you’re currently in, but you never had any reason to join.

“only the best for you, gorgeous.” rafe says with a smooth grin.

the dinner goes by just as smooth as his smile. its a set menu by the chef, but you found everything to be delicious, and feel perfectly filled by the end of it, not too stuffed but not hungry for more. you also feel like you know rafe much better, the conversation easily flowing.

its no surprise when rafe drives you back home that his hand lands on your thigh, even managing to creep underneath your skirt and touch your bare skin without you hollering and pushing his hand away like you would with any other guy.

“about that kiss…” rafe says when he gets you back home, standing on your doorstep.

“kiss and then what else were you talking about?” you hum, already knowing you’ve got a wet sport formed on your underwear just from his hand on your leg. “eating me out and taking me from behind?” “are you saying i can do all of those things tonight?” rafe smirks. he didn’t expect to get in your bed after one date, thinking he’d have to work a whole lot harder to convince you, but you are far too needy to deny him entry.

“i certainly won’t tell you no.” you smile, the grin quickly wiped off your face when rafe leans in, one hand on your cheek and the other moving to your waist, pulling you in tight to his body as his lips devour yours, mouth hot and wet against yours.

you fist a hand in his shirt, needing some sort of stabilization as you kiss for all your neighbors to see, moaning into his mouth when his hand moves lower to grip your ass, feeling the plump flesh under the fabric of your skirt.

you pull away from the kiss only to take a step backwards into the house, rafe quickly following you in. you practically race up to your room, trying not to seem too desperate.

the illusion is broken when rafe finally gets between your legs, having slowly undressed you and pressed kisses all over your body, showing special attention to your chest but ignoring your pussy until he was also naked, now laid between your spread thighs.

“such a pretty pussy for me baby.” rafe coos. “all mine now, understood?” “yeah, yeah.” you nod. “all yours.” you think to yourself that you will have to thank tina for begging you to pick up her drugs that day, and all the convincing shes done since as rafe leans forward, tongue swiping through your folds.

you let out a moan, hand reaching down to grip rafes hair as he moves upward, sucking your clit into his mouth.

yeah, you’ll definitely have to thank tina.

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[i-heart-yellowstone]

John Dutton with wife reader. Him being in such a mood that even his children start to tease him and her joining in. Anything at all. Fluff/suggestive. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

With prompts; "Are you really this happy 24/7?"

"Are you really this grumpy 24/7?"

"Are you really this happy 24/7?"

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

Exiting through the front door I joined my husband on the old wooden porch swing that overlooked the main part of the property we called our home. He moved one of his arms and laid it back down over my shoulder once I had taken my spot right by his side.

The sounds of nature were the only things we could hear for once. There weren't any of his adult kids running to complain about something or him having to rush off to fight someone who wanted to take the land from us.

I thought we could live in this peaceful moment forever- unfortunately that isn’t the case when it comes to Beth Dutton.

Her car quickly came down the gravel and dust driveway where she parked at the end of the steps. She slammed her car door walking up to the porch seeing me and her father sitting on the swing. “Are you really this happy 24/7?" She bluntly asked the two of us.

I began choking on the coffee I was drinking from one of the kitchen mugs, not expecting that to come from her mouth. “What! Why would you ask that?”

“Beth, I’m allowed to be happy with another woman.” Her father John remarked back at his only daughter.

His only daughter wasn’t exactly happy when he had brought me to the ranch a couple of times for our dates. And she especially wasn’t happy when we had gotten married a year later. I knew why though, it was because I wasn’t her mother. To her I was he step-mother.

We had done our best to be nice to one another but apparently she hadn’t fully accepted that her father could be happy with another woman just yet and we’ve been married for almost five years now.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “Come on, daddy. I mean you can’t really be happy all the time with her.”

“Beth!” John grumbled running a frustrated hand down his face.

I held my coffee mug in both hands, nudging my husband with my elbow in a joking manner. “Oh come on, John. You don’t have to fake being happy with me.”

“Y/n, I’m not faking it.” John shifted on his side of the porch swing so that he was directly facing me.

I tilted my head to the side knowing I could tease him for a little longer before he would figure out that I was entirely joking with the love of my life. “Are you sure? I mean I doubt I’m anything like Evelyn was in bed.”

“My mom popped out four kids in total. How many kids do you want to give birth to Y/n?” Beth asked, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to get you someone better.”

John rolled his eyes, sitting his coffee mug down on the side table with frustration in his tone. “Beth, that's too far. Okay. I’m married to Y/n and you’re just going to have to accept it.”

“It’s going to happen, daddy.” She smirked in my direction.

Leaning back in the porch swing I almost couldn’t contain my laughter. “Oh god.”

“This whole man-to-man shit thing we got going is becoming a little ridiculous.” John shook his head wishing this would end.

His daughter spun on her heels walking up to the front door. “I’m on it.”

“Beth!”

She called back. “I got it.”

“Beth!” Her father shouted at her.

She shut the front door and hollering beforehand. “I’m totally on it!”

Once we were back alone together on the front porch I touched the side of his face making him look me in the eye. “Honey, I was just joking when I said I don’t enjoy being married to you.”

“But you said-“

I cut him chuckling lightly. “It was a lie, John. I was just trying to make your daughter happy. The only way I think she will like me is when she sees me start agreeing with her on some things.”

“Thank god.” He sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders in relief.

Resting one hand against the side of his face I felt him lean into my palm. “I can’t imagine being married to anyone else but you.”

“I didn’t realize that I was missing having a woman in my life until I saw your truck break down on the side of the road that morning.” He recalled causing a smile to grace my lips at the memory.

When I had gotten a flat tire on my truck right outside the Dutton fence line I thought I would have to call someone to tow me to a shop which would take hours until I saw a man around my age rode up to the fence on a horse wearing a white cowboy hat.

Leaning forward I kissed him slowly, moving my other hand behind his neck making the gentle kiss deeper until he broke it suggesting a common morning routine for us. “How do you feel about going for a ride?”

“Have you not met me? I would love nothing more.” Getting up from the swing I finished the last of my coffee, rushing towards the wooden stairs heading straight to the barn walking backward. Yelling with my hands cupped around my mouth. “Meet me at the barn. I’ll saddle the horses, just don’t forget my hat.”

John groaned getting to his feet, calling back. “You’re hat. I remember the white hat belonging to me when we met.”

“What’s mine is yours, honey!” I laughed with a cheerful grin.

He shook his head going to grab what we needed to ride our horses, truly treasuring the joy he felt once falling in love with you. “I love her. Let’s go to work.” It would take time for Beth to accept her father could be happy with someone else than her mother, but he wasn’t going to not live his life simply waiting for her approval.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: You are always cold and blunt, but when Noah needs you, you show him a side of you that’s unexpectedly tender.

Tw: just fluff and taking care of a sick noah

You had been working with Bad Omens for a while now. It started as a way to get your foot in the door of the music industry, but quickly turned into a full-time thing. Touring, managing logistics, keeping the band in line, and occasionally making sure they didn't break anything or burn down a hotel room.

When you first started living with them, it didn’t take long for them to figure out that you were a sharp mix of sarcasm, gruffness, and blunt honesty. You didn’t sugarcoat things. If they looked ridiculous, you told them. If they were being annoying, you let them know. But despite your icy, sometimes cold demeanor, the band still loved you. You weren’t a big talker about your emotions, but they all knew you cared, in your own way.

Noah, though? He was different. He didn’t just take your sarcasm; he leaned into it, shyly flirting with you whenever he could.

Like that time in the kitchen when he walked in wearing a pair of jeans that were, unsurprisingly, too short to reach his ankles. He rifled through the cabinets for cereal, oblivious to the way you were staring at him over your coffee.

“You know,” you said, setting your mug down, “one day, you’re going to buy pants that actually fit, and it’s going to change your life.”

Noah froze mid-reach, turning to look at you with a confused expression. “What’s wrong with my pants?”

“They don’t cover your ankles, for starters.” You gestured toward his legs with a mocking smile. “Is it a fashion statement, or are you just bad at shopping?”

“I’m tall,” he protested, as if that explained everything.

“You’re not that tall.”

“I’m six three!” he said, indignant.

“Congratulations, Noah,” you deadpanned. “You’re the same height as many other tall guys in the world. Buy bigger pants.”

The rest of the band, who had wandered in during this exchange, immediately lost it. Folio was laughing so hard he had to lean against the counter, and Jolly just shook his head with a grin.

“You’re so mean,” Noah muttered, grabbing his cereal and retreating to the couch, his ears turning pink as the guys teased him relentlessly.

“Someone’s gotta tell you the truth,” you called after him. “Clearly, your friends aren’t doing it.”

But you knew Noah didn’t mind the teasing. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it in his own awkward way, even if the guys never let him live it down.

And then there was that other time in the living room. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Noah plopped down next to you. He shifted to face you, his signature hesitant smile already in place.

“So,” he began, leaning in slightly, “if I asked you to go out with me, what are the chances you’d say yes?”

You didn’t even look up. “Zero.”

“Not even one percent?”

“Not even half a percent,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Why? You planning to impress me with your ability to burn toast again?”

The band, as always, burst into laughter. Noah groaned, running a hand through his hair, but you caught the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was used to this by now.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You’re predictable,” you shot back, setting your phone down. “Every time you try to flirt, it ends up in a disaster."

He laughed despite himself, his cheeks flushing pink. “Maybe one day I’ll surprise you.”

“Doubt it,” you said with a smirk, though you couldn’t deny the warmth in his voice made your chest tighten just a little.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. Another time, the two of you had been sitting on the porch late at night, the house unusually quiet for once. Noah was writing something in a notebook, probably working on some ideas for a new song, his brows furrowed in concentration, while you sipped on a drink.

After a while, Noah looked up, noticing you looking like you were lost in thought. “What’s going on? You seem quiet tonight.”

You shrugged. “I was thinking about picking up some of those cupcakes from that new bakery in town. Some of you guys mentioned you wanted to try them, so I might as well bring some back for everyone.”

Noah grinned. “Wait, you’re actually going to do something nice like that?”

You shot him a playful glare. “What, you think I’m incapable of being nice?”

"No, it's just..." He hesitated, looking at you for a moment, "nevermind. I think they would appreciate that."

You raised an eyebrow. “What about you, though? What’s your favorite flavor?”

Noah hesitated again, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “If I tell you, you’ll just pick all of them except that one.”

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on. Just tell me, for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to sabotage the cupcake choices.”

He chuckled. “Fine. The one with the white sparkles on top. Now I’m sure this is the only one I won’t even see in the box.”

You smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll get one just for you.”

He shyly looked away but you were sure he didn't really believe you.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice soft, “you can be really sweet when you’re not roasting me in front of everyone.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, yeah? And when exactly am I not roasting you?”

“Right now,” he said, looking up at you with a shy smile.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he said, his grin growing wider. “I’ll take what I can get.”

That night, you sat on the porch with him until it got too cold.

A couple of days later, you came home with a big box of cupcakes, the band cheered just at the sight of it. Folio kissed you on the cheek, surprising you as everyone gathered around the box like kids.

"Seriously man?" You looked at Folio.

"Ops."

Noah, leaning against the counter, had no expectation of seeing the cupcake with the white sparkles, thinking you probably even forgot that coversation. He watched as you opened the box, and there it was, right in the middle. You handed it to him, and his eyes softened in surprise.

He took the cupcake from your hand, a small smile spreading across his face. “Thank you.”

"I promised. Didn't I?" You just said.

And then, of course, there was that night in the living room when the guys called you out. The TV was on in the background, but no one was really watching it. Nick leaned back in his chair, smirking as he watched Noah sit next to you on the couch.

“You two ever gonna stop this weird flirting slash bullying thing and just kiss already?” Nick asked.

Noah nearly choked on his drink, and you shot him a withering glare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not really,” he said, unfazed. “But seriously, Noah’s been crushing on you for months, and you just keep shutting him down. Give the poor guy a break.”

Noah groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can you not?”

“You’re all delusional,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “This isn’t flirting. This is me tolerating him.”

“Sure it is,” Nick said, grinning. “That’s why you always smile whenever you roast him.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t bother denying it. Noah peeked at you from between his fingers, his cheeks still flushed, and you sighed.

“You’re all idiots,” you muttered, grabbing your phone and walking out of the room.

But as you left, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Because despite your sharp tongue and cold comments, you knew that you cared about him. You cared about all of them but with Noah it had always been different.

And then, there was the time Noah got sick.

It had been a long day. You’d been out since the morning with a friend, running errands, getting things done, and by the time you finally made it home, it was late afternoon. You kicked off your shoes and threw your bag on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as you sank into the cushions.

It was quieter than usual. You glanced around, expecting to see Noah lurking somewhere nearby, like he always did—sitting on the counter, hanging out in the living room, always popping up like a cat in need of attention. But today, there was no sign of him.

You raised an eyebrow, a little puzzled. It was weird that he wasn’t around. It had been hours, and you figured he’d at least come say hi. He was always around. He was probably just in his room working on some new music, you thought.

“Hey, Nick,” you called out, when he enetered the living room. “Have you seen Noah?”

Nicholas glanced up from his phone, shrugging. “Oh, uh, this morning he wasn’t feeling great. Said he had a bit of a fever and just kind of stayed in his room after that. He’s probably asleep.”

You froze for a second, immediately feeling a knot form in your stomach. Noah never liked to admit when he was sick, but you couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually stayed in his room like this.

“Okay,” you said, but your voice felt off, the concern creeping into your words. “Thanks.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your feet carried you quickly down the hallway to Noah’s door, and your hand was already on the knob before you realized it. You knocked, but when there was no response, you opened the door quietly, peering inside. The blinds were drawn, and the room was dimly lit, but Noah was laying on his bed, curled up under blankets.

The sight of him immediately set off alarm bells in your head. He looked... pale, almost ghostly, and he was barely moving. His breathing was shallow, and his hair stuck to his forehead. The moment he noticed you standing there, his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked, as if trying to focus.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and weak, barely above a whisper.

You walked over slowly, concern heavy in your chest. “I’m just checking on you,” you said softly, walking closer to his bed.

You crouched down beside him, reaching out to touch his forehead. The heat radiating off his skin made your heart drop. He was burning up. The soft shiver of his body confirmed the fever.

“You’re hot,” you said, your voice betraying the concern you didn’t bother to hide.

"Finally you admit it." He murmured.

You rolled your eyes. “No, you’re burning up,” you said, your hand gently brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Did you take anything for it?”

He shook his head weakly, looking almost embarrassed. “No, I... I didn’t think it was that bad.”

You let out a breath. “Noah, you’ve probably had a fever for hours. You’re not okay.” Without waiting for him to protest, you stood up, “I’m going to make you take some paracetamol, alright?”

He didn't respond, and you weren't even sure if he registered what you said. When you returned with a glass of water where you had dissolved the medicine, Noah looked up at you with droopy eyes. His pale face looked even more fragile in the dim light, and you could see how exhausted he was, barely able to keep his eyes open.

He tried to sit up, but his arms trembled, unable to sustain him. He swore under his breath, wincing as the strain pulled at his muscles, too weak to follow through on the effort.

"It's okay. Here." You quickly moved to his side, one hand gently supporting his back while you propped him up. His head rested heavily against your shoulder, and you felt a tightness in your chest as you steadied him.

His brown eyes fluttered, looking at you through half-lidded, his expression soft with confusion and exhaustion.

You moved slowly, carefully, making sure he was comfortable before grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand. You held it up, making sure to keep it steady as you brought it closer to him.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment. It was almost as if he didn’t expect you to be so gentle with him, yet here you were, taking care of him without hesitation.

You placed the glass against his lips, guiding it toward his mouth. “Come on, Noah, you need to drink this,” you said, your voice soft but firm. His lips parted weakly as he took a small sip, the medicine sliding down his throat, though he barely seemed able to swallow.

His hands trembled as he gripped the glass, trying to help, but it was clear how difficult it was for him.

You supported the glass, steadying it in his hands, urging him gently, as your other hand still rested on his back, softly caressing it in slow, reassuring motions.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, watching as he weakly took another sip, his body shuddering slightly from the effort. When he pulled away, you pulled the glass back, but your eyes never left him.

He gave you a tired, almost apologetic glance as he let his head rest back against the pillow, his body sinking deeper into the blankets.

His lips parted in a soft sigh, and you smiled faintly, brushing his hair from his forehead again, your thumb gently rubbing his temple for a moment. It was a quiet gesture, one that said more than words could express, as you continued to sit beside him.

A few minutes passed, and then, in a voice barely audible, he murmured, “I knew you were sweet.”

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through you at the simple, quiet words. You leaned down, letting your hand go through his hair, murmuring, “I knew you knew.”

He let out a soft sigh, his breathing finally evening out as he fell deeper into sleep.

You stayed there with him for hours, the quiet of the room broken only by the soft hum of the house around you. You let your hand gently run through his hair, the touch almost rhythmic as you tried to soothe him.

Every so often, you’d press your hand to his forehead, checking if the fever had gone down at all, the heat still radiating off his skin, but a little less intense.

Every time his body shifted or he made a faint sound, probably from some fever-induced dream, you softly spoke his name or whispered a quiet, reassuring phrase, just trying to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

"You're okay," you murmured gently, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead when his brow furrowed slightly. "Just rest, Noah. You’re gonna be fine."

There was something incredibly tender about the way his breath would catch, his eyes fluttering under his eyelids, almost as though he could hear your voice even in his sleep. It made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to explain.

Noah shifted in his sleep, his body instinctively leaning closer until his face pressed gently against your side. The soft, unconscious gesture made your chest tighten, but you didn’t move. Instead, you noticed the blanket had slipped from his shoulder, leaving him partially uncovered. With careful hands, you pulled it back up, tucking it around him securely. Your fingers brushed lightly against his hairline as you settled back, letting him stay close.

As the evening drew on and his breathing steadied, the fever seemed to break a little. You let your fingers linger over his temple, softly caressing his arm when you noticed the tremble in his hand. It felt like such an intimate moment, one where all the usual sarcasm, sharp words, and teasing were left behind, replaced by something quiet, simple, and real.

Your fingers traced over his knuckles as you kept his tattoed hand in yours before you gently leaned down, brushing your lips against his forehead. You pulled away just as quickly, unsure of what had made you do it—maybe it was the tenderness of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet realization that despite all the banter, despite everything you’d told him, you cared about him more than you ever showed.

Wild for the girl who acted like a bitch all the time, right?

But in that moment, with Noah asleep and calmer than he’d been all day, you couldn’t care less about how it seemed or your usual weird ways of protecting your feelings. You just wanted him to feel better, to know that, despite all your sharp words and sarcastic remarks, there was no place you’d rather be than right there beside him, making sure he was okay.

And for once, you let yourself believe that maybe he knew exactly what you meant when you said, "I'm here, Noah. I'm not gonna leave."

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve knows the kids don't mean it when they make him feel stupid. Mostly because they're just as dumb as they are smart. If they were curious enough, they'd stick a fork in an outlet. That's what Steve was for, and he's okay with looking out for them until they realize they can start doing it for themselves. They're learning. . .slowly.

Of course, Eddie doesn't realize this until after Vecna, and he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off and he's trying to stop Max from smothering Mike with a pillow in his sleep. Suddenly, he's a stressed-out dad smoking on the back porch at the homecoming party they've thrown at the Munson's new home. He's watching them run around the backyard, looking tired, and Wayne is laughing at him.

"It's not funny," Eddie muttered. "I love those kids but they're going to make me go gray."

"Or lose your hair," Wayne said in amusement.

"Don't even joke about that," Eddie said.

"Got you something, boy," Wayne said and handed him a small box.

Eddie opened it up to reveal a world's greatest dad mug. He looked up to find Wayne drinking out of a world's greatest grandpa mug.

"Seriously? Did you buy that for yourself?" Eddie asked.

"Yep."

Steve came out on the porch, drinking out of a world's greatest mom mug.

"Not you too," Eddie said.

"I think it's funny," Joyce said from beside Hopper.

"Even if it's about one of your kids?" Eddie asked, and she just grinned.

"You know, I think Will and El are the only ones we don't have to worry about," Steve grinned, sitting next to Eddie. "They're angels."

"That's true. . .wait, what's Max doing to Mike?" Eddie asked.

"Well, it looks like Mike has fallen asleep in the grass, and Max is. . .Max is giving Mike a free haircut," Steve said as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, I figured that was coming when Mike said skateboarding is stupid," Hopper said.

"You knew Max would cut his hair?" Eddie asked.

"You gave her the scissors, didn't you?" Steve asked.

Hopper stared off in the distance as he sipped his own cup of coffee. Joyce looked at her husband in horror.

"Hop!"

"Should we stop him?" Eddie asked.

"Nah," Steve said.

"What did he say to you?" Eddie asked.

"Well, Dustin joked about us acting like a married couple, and Mike said that I would never marry you in a million years," Steve scoffed and looked at Eddie seriously. "I would marry you in a heartbeat, baby."

Mike yawned and stretched, his brows furrowing.

"Does anyone else feel a breeze?" Mike asked.

"He's looking this way," Eddie said with a grin. "May I kiss you in front of everyone?"

"Absolutely," Steve said with a grin.

Eddie leaned forward and captured Steve’s lips with his.

"Finally," Robin said, coming out of the house.

She was sipping on a mug filled with tea. On the mug, it said: world's worst godmother. Dustin came out a moment later wearing a hat that said: world's loudest child. Eddie glanced at Wayne with an amused look.

"You really went all out, huh?" Eddie asked.

"We had plenty of hush money," Wayne shrugged.

As Max wondered inside, she handed Dustin a pair of scissors.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" He asked.

"Oh my God! My hair!" Mike shrieked. "Henderson! You're dead!"

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Dustin exclaimed and ran off when Mike started chasing him.

"Dustin! You butthead!" Eddie exclaimed. "No running with scissors!"

[marksbear2]

WILL GRAHAM X MALE READER

This is pure fluff and that’s something rare on this blog since I usually write smutt. But since I love this man sm he gets special treatment.

⚠️Warnings- fluff, healthy relationships, mentions marriage and starting a family. And etc.⚠️

— Likes to keep a picture of you in his wallet. He would give it a quick glance before heading into a case. Your picture is his little good luck charm.

— He wouldn't keep you a secret, but isn't open about it. For example he wouldn't talk about you for hours to someone (only with his dogs he does.) but if someone asked if he had a s/o he would tell them about you straight up.

— He still is very shy about asking you out on dates even though you two have been dating for a while.

— Mandatory fishing trips together.

— He most def wouldn't tell Hannibal about you. He wants you to stay the hell away from him.

— Probably tells you about the cases hes working on. Even if he isn't supposed to tell someone he'll tell you without hesitation if you asked.

— You being there when he's sleepwalking every step of the way. Even having to wake him up a few times.

— You and him sleeping together makes him fall asleep faster. To the point he can't sleep without you.

— He would like to vent to you if you let him. He'll just vent to you while cuddling with one of the dogs while you sit next to him and listen. After he's done and realizes what he'd done he'll feel embarrassed, but he trusts you even more.

— Jack coming to Will's house unexpectedly and opening the door and walks inside. "Will! I got-" Jack trails off looking down at you two play wrestler with the dogs. "Never mind." Jack says before leaving the house going back to his car.

— Likes to call you something traditional or something sweet. Like hun/honey, love,sugar, idiot or sometimes even bug. He didn't know where bug came from one day he called you it and never let it go. He means the pretty bugs y'know.

— He prefers holding hands rather than anything sexual.

— Walks around his property with the dogs.

— Late night conversations.

— Begins to tell you more about Hannibal as the days go by. Like what him and Hannibal were talking about and etc.

— Long warm hugs after he comes back home from work. Just standing in the middle of the doorway hugging each other in loving silence. Just silently reassuring each other.

— Him letting you play and style his hair. It helps him relax when you do it, so he asks you to do it more often.

— Constantly reassuring him that you love him because he's an insecure mess and overthinks a lot. Like you don't love him or you're just using him.

— Him smiling to himself just at the thought of you or the mention of your name.

— Drinking coffee together at the front porch in early in the morning just enjoying the others company.

— Him waking you up after he has a nightmare. He curls up in your chest holding onto your clothes tightly as you cradle him in your lap kissing the top of his head. "I'm here Will. Don't worry baby i'm right here."

— Him having nightmares about losing you to the point he tells Hannibal about you and his fear of losing you, because he couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

— Will refusing the offer to let you two meet over dinner. Like he shot down the proposal so fast.

— Ms Lounds trying to get you to speak about Will. Like trying to make you spill all the bad things you know about him. And you just give her the bird and walk away.

— You two probably getting married either in the forest or by a dock.

— I think he's fine with the dogs, but if he ever wants to start a real family he'll want like two daughters and one boy.

— He side eyes you whenever he thinks your being weird or something. And he’ll give you the silent treatment after a long argument.

THE END

[b3ach-bunn7]

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

You find Dabi bleeding out on your front porch. Despite recognising his face from the five o'clock news, you take him in.

angst, villain dabi, quirkless reader, Dabi POV

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should’ve killed you the minute he’d woken up. 

Left your house burning blue with you inside of it, before you even had a chance to run. But it had been Dabi who’d passed out outside your house, and it had been you who lugged him inside, lanky bones and all, so he felt some obligation not to do it. He was barely conscious, just awake enough to hear you mumbling curses under your breath as you scrounged through your cupboards for a first aid kit. 

It wasn’t a nice way to go, bleeding out on a random street. It was embarrassing, the famed cremation villain dying to a knife wound that hit a little too deep. He’d killed the man who’d stabbed him, of course, but that fact that he would kill Dabi was what had him praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d live. Maybe it was a fitting death. A person like him, bleeding out with the dirt of a flower bed slipping down his shirt, only the sounds of the night echoing in his ears. 

And then you appeared.

Wearing scrubs that fit too loosely over your body, a puffer jacket and a scarf covering the lower half of your face. He had enough energy to wonder why someone like you, someone that looked down at him with so much worry etched on your face, was in a neighbourhood like this, one where people like him lurked. You dropped your bags, abandoned the scarf and the coat and dropped to your knees. He’d watched your scrubs soak with blood as your hands hesitated in front of him.

“God. Fuck. What do I- Fuck.”  You grabbed your scarf and wrapped it tightly around his chest and then you slipped your arms under his, groaning at his dead weight. 

“This is my good deed for the day.” You huffed, starting the slow drag towards your home.

And he’d passed out after that, he thinks. Everything is very jumbled up but he supposed that’s what happens when you’re bleeding to death.

And when he woke up he thought he might be in heaven. A heaven that was very cluttered and full of way too many pictures hung up on the walls. His head was killing him, and his chest fucking hurt.  He was sprawled on a couch too small for him and his legs were touching the floor. He tries to rise and he stops, immediately, cursing at the shot of pain that spreads through his body.

“Oh no, don’t get up! The stitches will pull.” 

He turned his head to the source of the voice and it's you.

On your knees, scrubbing at the blood stains on your floor. The sleeves of your hoodie were pulled up past your forearms and you were wearing shorts that rode up your thighs. He would’ve made an inappropriate comment about the sight of your legs but he has no idea who the fuck you are.

“I- I’m a nurse so don’t worry, the stitches are done right. That’s for you, too. You should drink it, you lost a lot of blood.” You laughed nervously, pointing at the coffee table.

There was a juice box waiting for him. He didn’t grab it though. Just kept staring at you, silent.

“Uh. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You hand twitched like you’re about to offer it to him, but you decided against it.

There’s no way you don’t know who he is. Dabi’s face has been plastered on the news more times than he can remember, and his face isn’t one you can forget. He watches you now, your eyes flitting from his face to his chest. You sit back on your knees, rubbing at your face with your clean hand.

“I- I can make you some food. If you think you can stomach it.” 

What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know what he could do to you? How quickly he could kill you?

He moved to stand again and you got up that time, moving towards him. “Look, seriously, you can’t move. The stitches will open and I can’t deal with any more blood today.” You said.

Dabi cursed. You flinch at the deep gravel of his voice.

“I know you probably think I’m crazy. I just- You can stay, until you can move again. It’s fine. I just don’t want you dying in my house, please. Or on my driveway.” You breathed out, taking another step back.

Dabi looked at you again. You looked like he could take you out now, stitches and all. He’s sure if you were going to call the police, you’d have done it by now. And he can’t remember the last time somebody actually doted on him. So he made the incredibly stupid move of listening to you. 

He reached forward and snatched up the juice. He popped it open with his thumb, downing it in one go, squeezing the carton to get it all out. Dabi threw the empty carton on the floor when he was finished. He leant his head back on the couch, and drifted off quickly into sleep.

The first few days are spent in and out of consciousness. The times he is awake, he doesn’t speak to you, not unless he has to. When you ask him what size clothes he wears, when you ask if he has any allergies. It doesn’t stop you from talking though. It’s all you do, whether to a friend on the phone or just to yourself. 

The couch has become the place he spends most of the days. He doesn't move unless it’s for the toilet or to let you change his bandages. The one time he’d actually gotten up for longer than five minutes was so you could clean the couch, silently mourning the fact you’d have to get a new one once he was gone. His blood still stains your carpet though, faint but there, and he feels something he can’t describe at the fact a part of him will always exist between your walls.

The first time he does speak to you, he doesn’t even mean to.

“God, the lady at the pharmacy definitely thinks I’m a serial killer. I'm there for bandages and painkillers like, four times a week.” 

You sigh and drop the shopping bags on the floor. You’re in your scrubs again, blue this time, as opposed to the green ones he’d stained with his blood. You run to the kitchen to grab a wet cloth and the antiseptic, and Dabi sits up gingerly on the couch.

He isn’t exactly healed, but you’d assured him once he could be conscious for longer than an hour that the cut wasn’t as deep as it seemed. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and his stitches still stung as he pushed himself up. YYou kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages around his chest. You keep your distance, just close enough so that you can reach him. The bandages stick to his skin and you make quick work of cleaning it, dabbing it with antiseptic. 

Dabi notices that you won’t ever look him in the eyes. Always darting around his face but never at him. You always linger on the scarred skin around his body, the staples hastily holding them together. You’re looking at them now, absentmindedly as you search through the bags for the bandages.

“My skin gross you out, lady?”

Your eyes do look up at him then, and Dabi feels like he should definitely talk to you more if you’re going to look at him like that. You laugh nervously and he tilts his head, blue eyes boring into yours.

“No, I just. Ha, no, I just haven't seen anything like it. The staples-” 

Your hand touches one gingerly and before you can move it away he grabs it with his own. He lets his hand heat up, not enough to hurt you but enough to let that lick of fear inch up your face, and he grins. Your hand is soft against the calloused, scarred skin of his, and he rubs his thumb up and down the back of it, watching the shiver you try and hide from him.

“Did I say you could touch?” He raises his eyebrows and you snatch your hand back. You turn away, inching just that little bit away from him.

“You didn’t complain about my touching when I dragged you from off my front porch.” You mumble under your breath.

His grin widens at that. “You got a mouth on you. But it’s okay, you can touch me anywhere you want, baby.”

Oh, that look. You were cute, he’d admit. He loved those shorts you were always wearing. Made your ass look amazing.

Your cheeks turn a delicious red. “I- Shut up. Let me finish.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you finish.”

“My god. Are you twelve?” You huff, placing the dressing over the stitches.

Dabi just watches you. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “You’re brave, sweetheart. You know who you’re talking to?”

You don't respond for a few seconds. “Of course. I’m not stupid.”

“Really? I’d say housing a villain in your house is pretty stupid.”

You say nothing, just gesture for him to sit up from the couch, where he was leaning against it. Like this, him sitting up and you still kneeling in front of the couch, he towers over you. It’s a compromising position, you fit in between his spread legs. Dabi can imagine you like this in another situation, maybe without the bandages and without that shirt you’ve got on.

You wrap the bandages around his chest silently. You finish, pinning it down so it doesn't come loose. You look back up at him. “It’s nearly been two weeks. If you wanted to kill me you would’ve.”

“Maybe I’m waiting until I’m all healed up. Really take my time with you.” He lets his voice drop, a low drawl.

You swallow. “I hope not. Would be a waste of my time if you did.”

Dabi scoffs. Your eyes trail back to his staples. He tugs at one and you wince. “Does- Does it not hurt?”

“Nah. Lost feeling a while ago. These staples are the least of my worries.” 

After that little encounter, Dabi takes to annoying you anytime he can. You’re avoiding him, he can tell, and it’s pissing him off. You spend every day holed up in your room while he has to sit on the couch like a fucking idiot and just wait. Maybe for you to call the cops on him, maybe for him to commit some heinous crime because he’s so fucking bored.

It’s why he starts trying to piss you off. Purposefully loosening his bandages, whining about the pain. You don’t complain, just dutifully bring him water, bring him whatever stupid request he asks of you. You’re being too kind, and he knows it’s fake. He wants to see how long it takes until you break, until that pretty polite smile you throw at him turns into that delicious anger from before. He wants your real emotions. Not this fake shit that makes him want to set the couch on fire.

Maybe it’s fake, or maybe Dabi can’t accept anything from anyone, not without them expecting something in return. And until he figures out what that is he doesn’t give a shit what you think of him.

It comes quicker than he thought. Only three days later, after he spent the entirety of your work phone call turning the TV higher and higher, until the show he was paying no mind was so loud you had to walk out the room. You’d come back out twenty minutes later and there it was, that frown he was missing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap, snatching the remote off the coffee table to turn the TV off. Dabi just watches you, a small amused smile on his face.

You shake your head. “Don’t just fucking sit there. You’ve been trying to piss me off for the past few days and here, I’m giving it to you. Happy?” You yell.

You rub your eyes furiously. “I just- I don’t get it. I’m- I’m helping you, I kept you from dying. Why are you being suc-“

“Why?”  

His voice is enough to silence you completely and he likes what little control he has over you. 

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck are you helping me? I don’t understand you.” He says, watching you pace across the living room.

“Some fucking nobody in the middle of a shitty town in an even shittier apartment housing me. Why? Makes no sense to me, and I don’t like things that don’t make sense.”  

You stop. You flalter slightly. He catches it, the way your hands twist in the hem of your shirt.

“What, you expected me to let you die?” 

“Yeah. I do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well not everyone is a sick sadistic psycho like you are.” You snarl.

You seem to regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Dabi grins and you cross your arms and look away.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me. I love that bratty mouth of yours.” You grimace at his words.

“Shut up.” You in breathe once. Purposeful and unsteady.

“I don’t know- Well I do know what you’re like. I guess all of Japan does. But I wasn’t going to let you just die on me like that. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Nobody deserves that.” You speak purposefully, trying hard to hide your emotion.

“And what are you expecting back?”

You look at him, then. And he sees something shift in your expression and you scoff.

“I don’t want anything back. I just did a good thing. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, but to us normal people it isn’t.”  

So bratty. He’d shut you up if he could move without popping a stitch. 

“Just.” You rub your eyes again. “Just stop trying to piss me off all the time. It’s working and it’s so fucking annoying.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to listen to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact you’ve been living in my house for two week?”

“I don’t fucking understand you.”

“I don’t understand you. I mean, how much time and money have I spent on you? It took me ages to get all the blood out my carpet and my toilet. And you still fucked up my couch, even though I covered it up. You think I can afford a new couch? One not covered in blood? I just-“

You pause. Take another deep breath.

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this either. I feel weirdly obligated to. As a nurse, and all. And- I don’t want the hassle, and the attention that would’ve been brought at my door if i had called the ambulance. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have either. So just do me a favour and stop making it so difficult.” 

He stares at you. The slump of your shoulders and he thinks the emotion he’s feeling is pity, or something similar. He doesn’t really know and he doesn’t really care.

But he still wants the healing, and he wants that really good ramen you made the other day. So he shrugs.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Fucking hell.”  You mumble, stalking off into the kitchen.

Things change after that. You slowly start to spend more time with Dabi. Which might be an overstatement. You sit on the loveseat beside him. Usually reading or catching up with work or throwing too much commentary at a show he’s watching. You catch him staring at your book once and you hold up the cover to him. The title reads, ‘The truth behind the Commission’.

“Quite the problematic read.” He nods and you smile slightly.

“I guess. I like this author. He doesn’t bullshit.”

“You hate heroes, then?”

You shake your head quickly. “‘No. Well. I don’t hate them, I just. There’s a lot of things wrong with hero society. A lot. And I think a lot of heroes get away with shit they shouldn’t because of that title. I don’t know. It’s all fucked, and I’m not gonna sit here praising them just because they do good things. Doesn’t make them good people.” 

He doesn’t reply that quickly and you look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

He makes a noise. “Nah, I loved your little anti-hero rant. The league could use a girl like you.”

Your face pales and he barks out a laugh. “Don’t say that!”

After that you start leaving books on the coffee table for him. He doesn’t thank you for it. 

The second time Dabi decides he’ll trust you happens quickly. There’s a box of pizza in front of the two of you, and you’re both not paying much attention to the TV. He’s more looking at you, the way you twirl a strand of hair around and around your finger, bite at your top lip when you’re thinking. Then your face frowns.

“Ew. Pass me the remote.” You hold your hand out to him.

He looks at the TV, and there’s daddy dearest. It’s a documentary, he thinks. Some stupid shit that praises the worst man in the world because he’s a ‘good hero’. He’s got his reason to hate him. But the look of disgust on your face is more delightful than it is confusing. 

“What? Not a fan of our number two hero?” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but the look on your face washes it away.

“Fuck no. There’s something about him I don’t trust. I don’t fucking like that guy.” You frown, quickly changing the channel. “I miss All Might.” 

He doesn’t reply to that. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he did.

And then Dabi realises he actually likes being around you. Especially when you’re always staring at him when you think he doesn’t notice.

“You know, I bought you shirts, too.” You speak the words quickly and without making direct eye contact.

Dabi had taken to not wearing any, despite the fact you had bought him some. He only wore  different sweats you’d bought him, slung low on his hips. He always ran hot anyway, and you never complained until now.

He grins. “Aw, this ain’t a pretty sight for you?”

“No, of course not!” 

You face flushes and Dabi leans a little further down on the couch, letting his sweats drift a little lower. Dabi knows he’s fit, and he knows the distinct shape of his V line is what’s making you avoid his form on the couch entirely. He’s not stupid, he’s caught you looking before.

“Right, I didn't mean that. I was just wondering. You know?” 

“Right, right. Don’t worry, baby, I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Be a doll and pass me that shirt, yeah?”

You nod. So obedient, he thinks. He grabs the shirt from your hand, letting his fingers drift against yours. You hand twitches slightly and Dabi smiles, sickly sweet.

“Thanks.” 

“S’fine.” 

When you give Dabi the green light to get up and move, he waits for you to go to work so he can thoroughly snoop around your house. He walks his way around the living room that he's grown too accustomed to. He doesn’t care about the kitchen or the toilet he’s been to a million times. Where he really wants to explore is your bedroom.

You’re so stupid. Letting a villain like him in your house. His hand trails over your dresser, the souvenirs and trinkets from holidays and birthdays. There’s even more pictures in here and you’re so loved he can feel it through the paper. You’re always smiling, teeth shining and impossibly bright and for a split second he wonders what you’d look like smiling at him like that.

Your room is quite messy and it doesn’t surprise him. Clothes littered all over the floor, books and a makeup bag scattered over your desk. Your bed is hastily made and your sheets are a soft pink. And he can see you on it begging for him so prettily, so obedient like you always are for him. 

He opens your bedside tables drawers, searches through the junk for something. He doesn’t even know what. There’s old movie stubs and receipts held together with a bobby pin. A postcard from someone called ‘Becky’ in Italy. Some empty lip gloss tubes and a candle burned down to the bottom. Then he sees a small rock. Hidden beneath the postcard and a letter telling you to go to the opticians. Shiny and blue just like his eyes, his flames. He turns it in his hand for a second, the smooth surface cool on his skin, before pocketing it swiftly. 

You don’t notice when you get home. If you do, you don’t say anything. 

You only get bolder in your approach with him after that. You start sitting on the couch with him. You ask him stupid small talk questions. What’s his favourite colour, his favourite food. And if you see how incredibly weird the whole situation is you don’t comment on it, so neither does he. Dabi feels more like a roommate than a patient now. You both don’t bring up the fact he’s healed enough to leave. You tell him he needs a few more days and he lets you lie.

“It’s nice having someone else in the house.” You say one day.

The two of you were on the couch, just that bit closer than the time before. Dabi’s arm rests on the back of the couch, and if he moved just a little to the left he’d be touching you. 

“What?” 

You shrug. “I get lonely, you know? All my friends live miles away, and the same with my family. I don’t know anyone around here.” 

You turn to him then, and shoot him a small smile. 

“It’s nice having company. Makes my house feel lived in.”

“Even if it’s a big old villain?”

You roll your eyes. “Haven’t been very villainous though, have you?”

“It’s never too late, baby.”

It’s the beginning of the end when he starts to do stuff for you.

It’s nothing crazy at first. He sees dishes in the sink so he puts them in the dishwasher. There’s a load of washing in the washer so he puts it in the dryer. He's just bored. He hasn’t left this house in weeks now, and while he likes the stress-free environment, he’s starting to feel antsy. 

And then he saw your face once, looking at the empty washer like he’d given you a diamond ring. And it felt good that he put it there. And Dabi decided it couldn’t hurt to pull his weight a little more around the house. If you’d look at him like that again he’d do anything you asked for.

You come home at three in the morning one night. Stupidly, he thinks. The area you live in is not a safe one, but it’s hardly his problem if you get kidnapped on your way back. When you walk through the door, the lights are all low and you stumble, mumbling curses under your breath. You turn them on and Dabi thinks you look perfect. Cheeks red from the cold, the dress you’re wearing slowly slipping up your thighs. The top is cut enough to make your tits look great, and you brush a strand of your hair out your face as you bend down to take your shoes off. He shouldn’t look, but really it’s all your fault for inviting a villain into your house. What did you expect?

You look up and your face lights up when you see him.

“Dabi! Oh my gosh, hey! I did- I thought you’d be sleeping.” You say the last word in a whisper.

And if that wasn’t tell enough that you were drunk, the way you almost fall walking to the kitchen is. You grab a water from the fridge, and Dabi watches as you down the whole thing in one go, drops of it dripping down your chin and your neck. You breathe heavily, chest heaving up and down as slump against the counter.

“God, I'm so thirsty. The drinks, I mean we had drinks. Of course! Mimosas and like, they were all pink and glittery. Can you tell I’ve been drinking?”

“Oh, not at all.” 

You grin. “Okay! Good! And then, this guy kept buying me drinks. So many drinks. The pink ones again. And I drank them. They were good, though.” 

You walk over to the couch and plop yourself next to him. Your bare thigh presses into his and Dabi lets it. He’s more focused on this little friend of yours buying you so many drinks than anything else.

“What guy?”

“Dunno. Some freak. I think- He was hitting on me. That's what my friend said to me.”

Dabi nods. “Mhm. You didn’t like him?”

You grimace, shaking your head.  “Ew, no way. He’s- He was so blond. And like, preppy. It was gross. He was gross.”

Dabi snorts a laugh. You grin at the sight of it. “Blond and preppy not your type?”

“No. No. I like.” You turn to face him. You cross your legs on the couch, tugging your dress down as it hikes up. You look at him quizzically before nodding your head, like you’ve figured something out.

“Actually, you are my type.” 

Dabi thinks he needs to get you drunk more. He likes the way you’re looking at him.

“Really?”

“Oh for sure. I like- You know like, emos.”

Never fucking mind. 

“I’m not emo, what the fuck?”

You laugh, loud and boisterous. “You so are! The black hair and, and the staples are like piercings. I bet you listen to heavy metal. Do you?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You giggle, leaning over to rest your head on the couch. Your eyes travel down to his torso, exposed in the vest he was wearing. You reach a hand up, tracing it down the lines of his muscles, over the scarred skin. 

“Love your arms. So big. Can’t even wrap my hand around them.” You mumble. You demonstrate, taking a deep breath when your finger can't meet at the other side. 

“And. I like your voice. So raspy. It’s hot as fuck. And your eyes. So blue. Like the ocean. Like hat billie eilish song.”

He huffs a laugh. You look up at him, eyes shining from the light of the TV. You smile softly, hand still burning a hole on his arm. 

“Thanks if- for not killing me. And going all villain on me.”

Dabi hums. Sees your eyes trail down to his lips and back up to his face. 

“Never say never.”

“Shut up. Don’t say that. You’d never kill me. I’m too loveable.” 

“Too fucking full of yourself.”

“Wish I was full of you.” 

Your hands cover your mouth the second you say the words and you sit up suddenly. Dabi barks a laugh, and you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so drunk. Oh my god.” You groan.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can make your dreams come true.” He smirks.

“Stop. Now. Before I die of embarrassment.” 

Dabi pats your shoulder. “S’fine, baby.” 

You slump a little, yawning loudly. You glance down at his hand that still hasn’t left your shoulder. “You're so warm.”

“It’s almost as if I have a quirk that produces fire.”

You roll your eyes. You turn slightly and lean against Dabi. He stiffens slightly as you adjust yourself, pulling one of your throw blankets down over your body. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“Go sleep in your bed, you idiot.”

“No. Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“The fuck?” 

You don’t say anything. Dabi looks down and your eyes are shut. He can feel your bare skin on his body. It’s so cool in comparison to his. That’s why he lets you stay there. He’s warming you up and you’re cooling him down. And you just stay there, sleep soundly like he isn’t a murderer, like he isn’t worth the same as the dirt on your shoes.

The next morning you don’t speak of it. Just rush yourself to the bathroom because, like an idiot, you went out on a Wednesday night like you didn’t have work the next day. 

Dabi realises he needs to leave when you almost kiss him.

You’re not drunk this time. He wishes you were. Wishes he could blame it on the alcohol coursing through your veins and not something else. This time, you aren’t both sitting on the couch like you usually are. You both stand at the big window in your living room, Dabi smoking a cigarette and you looking at the stars. It’s late, but it’s a weekend, so you don’t have anywhere to be. You’ve been talking and he’s been listening. The occasional response. He’s more focused on you, on the way the moonlight streaks across your face, the way you’re wearing one of the shirts you bought him. It dips down past your waist and he feels like you're his.

“Oh my god! You’ll never guess who came into work yesterday.” You turn to him excitedly.

“Who?”

“Remember I was telling you about that guy who kept buying me drinks?”

Dabi nods. “The blond one who’s not your type?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. He came in because he had to get tested for an STD! Can you believe that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Yes. Any guy buying pretty girls drinks is a guy that sleeps around.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” You coo.

“Gorgeous.” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but it comes out much more real than he’d hoped.

“Well, it’s no matter. I wouldn’t have gotten with him, drinks or not. I'm safe from any STD’s.”

Dabi takes another drag of his cigarette. “So harsh. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, I thought.”

“Not when it comes to a hookup. And not when there’s literally some-“ You cut yourself off. 

“When there’s what?”

“Nothing. Shut up.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. He turns so he’s facing out the window completely, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He presses the cigarette into the wall beneath it. 

“Well, desperate times, baby. You wouldn’t believe some of the girls I’ve hooked up with.”

“I find it hard to believe you struggle to hook up with people.” 

Dabi barks a laugh at that. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “You're hot. Isn’t that all guys need to hookup?”

“The whole ‘wanted villain’ thing scares people off. Usually.” He gives you a pointed look. “That, and the scars.”

You look at him and gesture at him to face you. You’re looking at him so intensely he feels nervous. Dabi, a serial killer with more kills under his belt than you can imagine, is nervous because of a silly little civilian.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“What’s right with them? They’re ugly, and they’re being held onto my face with fucking staples. Freaks people out.” He shrugs.

You furrow your brows. You look at his face, his arms, his chest. Where yes, he isn’t wearing a shirt again. The scar across it from a knife wound that feels years away.

“Shut up. Do you actually think that?”

Dabi tilts his head. “You don’t?”

“Of fucking course I don’t. They- You’re hot as fuck! I don’t understand why your scars would change that?” You splutter. And you look angry for him and Dabi feels his chest tighten.

“It’s alright, baby. I don’t care. My dick still gets wet when I need it to.” 

You wince. “Ew, Dabi. That’s gross.” 

“You’re gross for having a crush on a villain.”

You blush. “Shut up. I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Sure, sure.” 

Dabi can hear the sound of cars a few streets down. The breeze is light, and he can feel it rustling with his hair. He wonders if you notice the white of his roots peeking through. If you look enough to notice. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels your hand on his arm. Trailing up and around the divide of skin and scars. Your fingers trace over the staples. You touch him so gently. So softly. He wants to rip your hands off and lean into them all at once.

“Did I say you could touch?” He speaks quietly. You smile slightly, looking up at him for a second.

“I don’t hear any complaints.” 

You brush against the panes of his chest. Dance across the scar that will only ever remind him of you. Dabi thinks he leans into you. He wonders if you notice. You move up the sharp lines of his collarbone, the curve of his Adam’s Apple. And then your hands rest on his face. And they’re softer than his will ever be, free of the marks of his childhood and his days burning to quieten the noise in his head. Your hand curves against his cheek and he wonders if you can feel his heart beating as heavily as it is. 

Your fingers brush under his eyes. The small patch of purple skin that rounds them, like ever present eye bags. 

“Your eyelashes are so pretty. So long. I’m jealous.” You murmur.

Dabi doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. 

And then you look at his lips again. Then back up at his eyes. And you look at him with so much emotion that he wants to gouge his own eyes out so he never has to think about it again. Never has to see you looking at him so tenderly. And when you lean forward, just that bit more, hand still on his face, he takes a breath. 

And then your phone rings, and the moment is shattered. You curse under your breath, fumbling around for your phone. You smile sheepishly as you brandish it at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s my mum. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t meet at the window again. Dabi falls asleep to the sound of your voice in the next room.

He wishes you were horrible. Wishes you were annoying, or ugly, or maybe Endeavour’s number one fan. Instead you’re not. You’re funny and you’re a good cook. You’re fucking stupid for letting him into your life. You’re so kind. You start bookmarking the parts you think he’d like in the books you leave him and he wants to turn the pages to kindling. You talk to him like you actually give a shit what he has to say. Like you give a shit about him.

Dabi wants to leave a mark on you like you’ve left one on him. Because he’s seen the pictures hung around your house and you’re loved. You have your people, you have a place. You don’t need him. But Dabi? He hadn’t been to the league in however many weeks, and he hadn’t heard a peep. Nobody cares about him. Nobody has his picture up in their room. Dabi could’ve bled out in your driveway all that time ago and nobody would give two shits. 

He wants someone to give two shits about him. He wants you to give two shits about him. And it’s a thought that keeps Dabi up every night. Legs still impossibly too long for the couch, as all he can think about is how you’ve ruined him. You’re too fucking good for him. And he knows you’ll soon realise that. 

That’s why he leaves.

Dabi doesn’t know what you expected. That he’d stay? That you’d live together like this forever? He’s fucking realistic. He knows this goes nowhere. There’s a blue collar prick working in some construction site you’ll end up with one day. A man who you can introduce to your parents, one who won’t stain your carpets with his blood, who you can hang up on your walls.

Dabi takes nothing except for the clothes on his back. He waits until he knows you're asleep on those ugly pink sheets and he slips out silently. And he doesn’t look back as he walks away, as the sounds of life hit him properly for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look down at the front porch where he’d almost died, not at the flowers he’d destroyed when he’d collapsed on top of them.

He leaves before he can destroy everything else. Before he destroys you. You and your soft hands and your piercing gaze. He hates you. He hates you so fucking much he feels flames licking at his clothes at just the thought of you.

When he makes his way back to the league, nobody says much of anything. He stalks his way back to his own room. There’s no pictures hung up on the walls. It’s unbearingly small and it feels so lifeless. He lays down on a bed that fits him perfectly. Digs in his pockets for your stupid fucking rock, the same colour as his eyes, that you had hidden in that drawer. 

Dabi throws it across the room. He watches it hit the wall, skid under his dresser. He leaves it there.

——————————————————————-

yo ah really thought u could fix him 🤣🤣 I’ve been too nice to u guys recently so I had to mix in some angst 🙏 this is much longer than usual so I hope u like!

btw recently every title of the fic is based on the song I listen to while I write it so I highly recommend listening to it while u read these :P

I have been posting an INSANE. Amount. Like I think I posted once a day all last week and it’s all been about Dabi 😭😭 I’m very busy this week, so I fear my streak might be lost

lemme know if u want a pt 2!

[luveline]

hi! could I request a fic where reader has trouble falling asleep without someone with her? maybe with Hotch or Miguel? like their voices soothe her into sleep? only if you feel like it!! have an amazing day and I adore your writing! 💟💟

hi gorgeous, thank you! ♡ fem

Hotch is rubbing the knots out of his neck when his phone pings with a text. 

Hi, handsome, hopefully you're sleeping, so when you wake up I was wondering if you can send me the photos from last Wednesday to print <3 

He adores your silly electronic heart. 

Hotch clicks your contact and brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the dial trills once. You pick up immediately, sounding sorry and sweet and the slightest bit tired. "Hey. You're awake." 

"Yes, I'm awake, I just got home. Why are you awake? It's four in the morning, honey." 

"You sound very accusatory right now. You're accusing me." 

"Mm. Can I come over, or will you fall asleep before I get there?" 

"Fat chance of that. You're really coming over?" you ask. 

Hotch leaps up the moment he hears the relief in your voice. Something is wrong, and you won't tell him over the phone. He says goodbye gently, dresses less so, and makes an impressively quick journey to your home to put whatever it is back the way it should be. 

You seem in good spirits even though the hollows under your eyes are prominent in the light of the porch, opening your arms for him and hugging him there on the door jam, rumpled under his chin. "You're not wearing a suit." 

"Would you have preferred that?" 

"Only if you were gonna take it off." 

"You'd like that, hmm?" he asks, his teasing at odds with the dulcet cadence of his voice. "I'll dance." 

You giggle into his chest. Hotch grins but quashes it as you look up for a kiss, your lips soft, sweet against his. You kiss his cupid's bow all smushed upward before stepping away from him, your hands drifting together. He pauses to lock the door and take off his shoes. You tug him impatiently back to your room.

Hotch has dreams about your bedroom. There's something about you, the way you climb into bed and sit pretty against the headboard waiting for him to follow you in, innocuous, intensely tempting. He pulls back the sheets and slides in, needling an arm under you to drag you into his side and down onto your back simultaneously. 

"Unnecessary show of strength," you say with a laugh. 

"Just reminding you." 

You turn out your lamp. He squirms to get comfortable. Your mattress is a mess and he's not young enough to bear it without consequence in the morning, but he'll suffer it and worse if it means you'll stay nestled against his side, your cheek at home on his bicep, your arm wrapped around his middle. 

"You'll tell me what's keeping you up?" he asks, hushed. 

"I really don't know how you just know these things…" You give in, because you always give in with him, and (to his credit), he always listens. "I don't think I can sleep without you, Aaron, I really don't." 

"Why? You're not worrying about me, are you?" he asks. 

"No. Of course I am, but that's not the problem. I just struggle without you here. It's easier when you call me, I can fall asleep with you talking to me. But otherwise it's hard." 

"How did you fall asleep before me?" he asks fondly, turning his face to nose at your temple. 

"I'm used to you, I think. I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." He pressed his lips to your cheek, eyes closed to breathe you in. "What do you want me to talk about? Think of something soothing." 

"You aren't a man with many soothing stories," you say. 

Hotch tells you about the quieter things in his life, the things that make undertaking the unsaid worthwhile. Jack wants to be Bugs Bunny for Halloween and Hotch has no idea why. Spencer destroyed his computer with a cup of coffee —the problem being the amount of undisolved sugar clumped at the bottom of his cup that found its way into the computers RAM with no hopes of cleaning, rather than the drink itself. His office door squeaks constantly and he's half mad with it, but there's no solution beyond waiting for someone in maintenance to oil the hinge. 

He realises you've fallen asleep somewhere in his stories and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think your confession was wholly true. Perhaps you're stressed, or anxious in a way you haven't shared. And yet you fall asleep as promised from the sound of his voice, your hand scrunched in his shirt like you worry he'll escape you, your eyelid to his arm. Hotch contemplates you as you sleep, pulling the sheets snugly to your chin. He doesn't know if you know this, but you're his sweetheart. He finds you so precious, among a thousand other things, brave and kind and loving, but he knows he's a lucky man. He's the spoiled one. 

If you need his voice to fall asleep to, he'll talk until he's hoarse. And while he's away, he'll have to remember to call. He can't have you missing out on sleep. Hotch kisses the hollow under your eye and tries to sleep too, but he finds he misses the sound of your voice. 

[shoujo-wizard]

Hallmark movie AU steddie A/B/O ft kitchenwitch!Steve im calling it "Bewitched by Yuletide"

A!Eddie O!Steve

@lexirosewrites this has turned into a drabble oops

Eddie ends up making it big time with the corroded coffin guys, except after nine albums together they're not getting along very well. it all comes to a head during a long flight out of Europe back to the US, and when their private plane landed, the band had agreed there was no more band. they gave a final concert in the US. so eddie finds himself at a crossroads. he still had his money, he still had his fame, and he still had the connections of a rock star. he could launch a solo career, get writing a debut solo album, make the right calls to people with the right taste, he could be very successful for at least one album. except as eddie thought it through more and more, he just felt tired. he didnt want to write anything, he didnt want to play another electric guitar solo, and he didn't want to go through the promotion process. he didn't want to attend award shows, not even to host. the spotlight was fantastic, but on the flight back to the US Felix had pose them all a question

"do we really want to do this for the rest of our lives?"

eddie didn't want to. he felt adrift, not sure what he really wanted to do for the rest of his life, with all the money they'd made. then he gets a call from his Uncle Wayne; he'd fallen and was in the hospital for the last 2 days. he emphasizes he's fine, just ended up hitting his head hard. a friend is taking care of him till the worst of the concussion symptoms resolve. he tells Eddie his door is always open to him. so eddie books a flight and is in the small town of Hawkins by the next morning.

wayne gives him directions that are of little help, but he writes them down just in case. he pulls into the driveway of Wayne's farmhouse, and the old man is sitting on his front porch in a wicker rocking chair. he hands Eddie a coffee mug & motions to the other chair then the thermos sitting on the small table. so eddie sits to fill his mug instead of doing anything reasonable like turn off his car or at least close the driverside door. It has gotten to late autumn now. halloween is approaching. eddie drinks a mug of coffee in silence before he starts a conversation.

"do I want to do this for the rest of my life?" eddie watches the wind move through the fir trees.

"whatever you want to do, son, just know you'll always have a place in my life." is what wayne hums back.

Wayne is situated inside comfortable on the couch. his uncle lets him know that his friend will be coming by after he finishes work to bring him dinner. Eddie says to let this 'Harrington' know tht he'd like to be added to the dinner guest list. wayne just chuckles like he knows something Eddie doesn't.

even later when the sky is turning dark a new car pulls up outside the farmhouse. Wayne hollers that it's "steve and robin" right before the front door is bursting open to let in the cold air, and two people eddie's never met before. eddie wants to ask them to sit down, but then a broad shouldered Adonis with his neck wrapped in a pink scarf is moving around him to the kitchen as if he does so everyday. an alpha woman with a choppy bob is completely disinterested in him, instead she's sitting with Wayne engaging him patiently in conversation while the noises in the kitchen continue to grow.

eddie expects a lot of things when he walks into his uncle's kitchen. None of them could've prepared him to walk into a room permeated with the scent of apples. to see the adonis from the doorway without his pink scarf or coat. his hair is a cresting wave, and he moves assuredly around the space. he's unpacking several canvas picnic bags, which makes Eddie pause because he's sure that the omega in the kitchen had only entered with a large dutch oven in his hands.

they have a short conversation that ends with Eddie offering his help with dinner. Steve declines politely, but Eddie doesn't leave the kitchen exactly. he sits down at the breakfast nook within the room, and engages Steve in conversation. steve asks about the acoustic guitar case among his things at the bottom of the stairs. eddie blinks because he can't remember if he brought his things inside or not. ultimately deciding he must have. eddie admitting his band had broken up, and that he's staying with Wayne for the moment.

the four of them sit down to dinner, and then before Eddie knows it he's in the kitchen cleaning up with Robin. when they get near done steve walks in and starts the coffee maker. then wayne is shuffling cards, and they're eating dessert while sipping at coffee. then before Eddie feels like he can blink Steve and Robin r driving back to Hawkins proper.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about apples the entire night.

[there's definitely more to say about this AU..... but i think this is a good little set up tht kinda shows the set up]

[I might write more to this but i won't make promises. you'll likely all have to wait till the next Slick Sunday i choose to participate in]

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[repulsiveliquidation]

Guardian of My Heart || Leah Williamson

based on this request here! it's not that long but i loved writing this so much so i hope y'all like it!

warnings : angst with happy ending. mentions of injury.

“And that’s the final whistle folks, Chelsea takes this game with a comfortable 3-1 win over the Gunners here at Stamford Bridge.”

Leah’s eyes fill with tears at the final whistle. Her heart shatters audibly in her chest. A game they needed to win to have a chance at the title, thrown away by silly mistakes and sloppy football. She walks around the pitch in shame, apologizing to all the Gooners in the stands who came only to see them fail.

“I’m sorry,” she says to the crowd, tears falling down her face. The rest of the girls do the same, making their way to the stands to thank fans and sign jerseys. The home side erupts in a painful cry of victory, one that makes Leah’s chest almost cave in on itself.

The changing room is silent except for the sound of bags being packed and the muted drumming of water on the floor from the showers. One by one the girls make their way to the bus, offending socks from the wardrobe mishap filling the trash bin in the locker room.

Leah sulks when she hears the girls all planning to see their partners at home and just forget today’s game. She just jammed her AirPods into her ears and played her country music loudly, hoping the gaping hole of loneliness in her chest would go away with the serenading words of Luke Combs.

She knew her house would be lonely. She knew her house would be quiet. She knew her house would be dark. There was no one waiting. The person she wanted most would not be there. There was only one person to blame for that.

“Leah, you can’t keep doing this to me!” you yelled, rounding the coffee table as Leah stumbled into the house at twenty past three on a Saturday. You came over at eight thinking Leah would be home since she promised to help you cook dinner and enjoy the Bachelor finale on TV together. Instead, you walked into her apartment with your spare key to an empty house and her bedroom a mess. Her makeup was all over the bathroom and she had clearly changed her shoes at least three times.

You waited and waited for her to get home, calling the Arsenal girls to figure out where she had gone. They felt sorry for you and tried to get Leah to go home to you but she said something that the moment it left her lips, your heart broke into pieces.

“You’re such a fucking needy bitch, get off my back for once!”

You don’t know why you still sat in her living room for three more hours and waited for her to get home. You knew you needed to know she was home safe. That she was okay. That she didn’t choke on her own vomit from drinking too much. Because despite being her second choice for a while now, you still loved the England skipper. You still love Leah Williamson.

Leah drove home in pin-drop silence. Her kit bag was thrown in the back to be dealt with later, her arm on the door holding her head up as the streets of London were a blur. She parked in her spot and walked out like a zombie, not noticing your car in her driveway and her porch light on.

The key turned easily and she walked into her house to the turntable on low and the smell of smileys and a roast coming from the kitchen. She looked down and saw a pair of shoes that she recognized and a voice that was singing along to the music that she had fallen asleep to a million times.

“Y/N?” Leah spoke aloud, toeing her shoes off and dropping her kit bag. She shuffled into the kitchen and saw you standing there at the stove, stirring in the roasting tray and making a gravy. There were two plates on the island she instantly knew which one was hers. You turn and give her a soft smile, pushing your chin out to gesture her to sit. She does and grabs the bottle of wine you’ve set out and pours the two glasses full of Cabernet.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing a smiley off the plate she knew was hers and nibbling on the cheek.

“I wanted to make sure you had something to eat,” you answer curtly as you put the whisk down and grab a gravy boat, smiling to yourself when you still remember where it was.

“Y/N,” Leah says sternly, putting her half-eaten smiley down.

You turn and put the gravy boat next to the roast, finally looking at your ex-girlfriend.

“I needed to know that you were okay, after today.”

“Why?” Leah asks, voice carrying a lilt of guilt with fresh tears filling her eyes.

You walked around the island and turned the skipper in her seat to face you. You held her face in your hands, wiping the tears that fell. You had been in this situation before when Leah tore her ACL.

“You’re going to be okay, Leah.”

“What if I never play like I used to ever again?”

“You don’t ever need to worry about that because you will. The Leah Williamson I know never gives up.”

She chuckles but more fear settles in her heart. Leah looks up at you at the very island she’s sitting at right now.

“I’m scared,” she admits sheepishly, looking defeated and terrified. You cup her face and wipe the tear stains off her face.

“You will get through this Leah and I will be there every step of the way.”

“You won’t leave? They always leave.”

“I would never. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers back to you before you kiss her, her mind willing itself to get better. If not for her, for you.

Zach Bryan’s voice fills the room softly, the lyrics of ‘Tourniquet’ “take care of the blood that your love runs through” remind you of why you packed up a roast and stopped at the shops for a bag of frozen smileys. It reminds you of all the nights you massaged her leg when it was feeling tight. It reminds you of all the nights when you sat beside her and held her close while she cried at another delay in her recovery. It reminds you of all the nights you spent awake with her when she couldn’t sleep because of the pain.

Was it worth it? Yes.

Would you do it all over again? Yes.

Leah breaks down when her eyes meet yours. The smell of your perfume and your musk flood her senses with all the reasons why she was in love with you all those years. Deep down inside she knew she still felt that way and hoped that you did too.

Leah cries. The pain of losing, hurting her hamstring just as she’s called to the England squad for the first time since her ACL, and the overwhelming sense of disappointment burst the moment you held her in your arms again. It was home and it was safe. Leah clung onto your hoodie and made a right mess on the front but you didn’t care. Leah needed you and you wished you could take away her pain.

“I just wasn’t me out there today and that cost us the game,” Leah muttered after calming herself down and her hiccups stopped.

“Today wasn’t just your fault, honey,” you cooed, taking the hair tie out of Leah’s hair and combing your fingers through her blonde locks. She rested her head against your stomach and closed her eyes, zeroing in on your touch.

“I let the team down,” she countered, pulling you closer to her.

“It just wasn’t anyone’s day today, my love,” you cupped her face and wiped more of the tears that were about to fall from her eyes. You leaned in a little and were a bit unsure, but feeling her nudge herself towards you gave you the approval you sought.  

Her lips felt familiar against yours.

Salty.

Warm.

Recognizable.

Home.

She chased your lips and melted into them, gripping your wet hoodie like her life depended on it or that you would vanish if she let go, even for a second.

“I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, you don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve someone willing to love you for you, Leah,” you reassure her and seal it with a kiss, walking away from her to chuck the roast back in the oven to warm up for a bit and her smileys into the air fryer for a little reheating.

Zach’s voice fills the blanks when you look at her blue eyes, her features blow you away every time you look at her. You bled your whole soul into things you can't control; in a world you'll never satisfy brings Leah back to reality. The game today was good. It didn’t go their way from the beginning with those wretched socks and their delayed start but they gave it their all. It was a lesson to be learned and one to look back on when the team had lost its spark.

Leah scoffs down half the roast and convinces you to throw a couple more smiley into the air fryer for her to drown in your delicious gravy. You put a fresh toothbrush next to hers in her bathroom and have a glass of warm milk on your bedside waiting for you like you like.

“You remembered,” you tell her as she hands you a ratty jersey for you to sleep in. You throw it on and inhale her delicate scent, your heart filling with warmth and ease.

“I still set it out sometimes you know, especially after you left.”

“You’ll have to try and remember again now, I think,” you tease, and she stands in front of you. You sip on your milk and she kisses the foam mustache off your lips.

“I’ll never forget, my love. Ever.”

[suzdin]

One Day

Tim Rockford x f!sex worker reader

Summary: You’re Detective Rockford’s favorite girl at the local brothel.

Warnings: established relationship, terms of endearment are used a few times (precious, baby, sweetheart), sex work, possibly derogatory term of sex workers used (whore), oral / fingering (f receiving), nipple play, cop!Tim, dom!Tim, soft!Tim, possessive!Tim, sweat kink, soft belly appreciation, spanking, rough sex (consensual), nipping, handcuff play, bondage, some fluff if you squint hard enough, unprotected p in v and a resulting creampie, pining for more, brief mentions of homicide, poverty, and general cop knowledge and jargon

Word Count: 3,600+

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @natdeandar @morallyinept @chronically-ghosted @daddy-dins-girl @guelyury @heavennumber2

It’s another sticky, muggy night in the city of Houston, Tim’s antiperspirant failing miserably as he tries in vain to dry the large semicircles of sweat under his arms, angling the air conditioning vents toward his pits in the hopes it will do the trick.

He grumbles when it’s ineffective, partially because of his thin patience, knowing he’ll have to get his shirt dry cleaned tomorrow before the stains can set in, and partially because he isn’t sure why he chose a white button up instead of something lighter and cooler. Not that it would help the sweat problem much in this weather, but maybe it would make it less obvious.

Although his salary is much better here than in the sleepy New England town he came from, he would move back in heartbeat if not for you. The heat and big city life were not well suited to a man such as himself.

He navigates the darkened streets in one of the many derelict neighborhoods surrounding downtown, the route as familiar to him as the lines on his hand, his need to see you heightened more than usual due to a recent string of homicides that has him on edge and the whole precinct in a tizzy. He hopes you aren’t occupied already, but he’ll wait if he needs to, like he always does.

He pulls the unmarked cruiser into the driveway of a rundown, two story Victorian just south of the 610 Loop, cutting the engine, sucking in a deep breath as he stares at the faint glow in a few of the ornate windows.

He hastily shoves open the door and climbs out, stuffing his keys and wallet in his pockets, his shoes crunching quietly on the gravel path as he makes his way toward the wraparound porch, decorated in various potted flora, tables, chairs, and even a porch swing.

He loves to imagine sitting out here with you in the mornings, drinking coffee and watching the sun crest over the city skyline.

One day, he tells himself. One day.

He reaches the front door, raising his fist to knock, but it flies open with a rush of cold air before he has a chance, his arm hanging limply in the air as his eyes lock with one of the house madams.

Sylvia, a lovely Latina woman whom he would guesstimate is around his age, beckons him inside, the cool air conditioning striking his face a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat.

“Detective Rockford,” Sylvia purrs. “Good to see you again. It’s been several weeks. I almost forgot what you looked like.”

Tim nods, his brow furrowed, clearly not amused by the teasing cadence in her voice.

The lobby is quiet and mostly empty, two of the girls sitting on a bench near the window and gossiping about something or other as they share a package of cookies, wrapped in thin lace robes that leave nothing to the imagination. They wave and smile at Tim, a familiar face to most of them.

“Been busy,” he replies gruffly, handing Sylvia his wallet to hold as collateral. “Is she available?”

“She is,” Sylvia says, a gentle smirk gracing her ruby lips. “While it’s been busy on your end, it’s been slow for us. She misses you.”

He frowns, diverting his attention to the dusty antique carpet, grinding his jaw.

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Miss her too.”

Sylvia smiles, leaning against the wall as she crosses her arms.

“Would you like a drink?” she asks.

She always asks, and he always declines. “No, thank you,” he replies.

Sylvia hums and purses her lips, cocking her head toward the back of the house.

“She’s in her room. You know where to go.”

—

The smell of incense perfumes the air as Tim draws nearer to your room, the faint glow of lamplight spilling into the corridor from your open doorway.

He reaches your room, his dark slacks already tight as he observes you silently, taking in and appreciating how beautiful you look like this, lost in your thoughts.

You’re lying on your stomach, naked aside from a black lace thong, your feet swinging in the air as you hum a familiar tune, scribbling something in a notebook.

It takes him a moment to realize you have earbuds in, which is why you haven’t acknowledged him yet. He smirks to himself, gently rapping his knuckles against the open door as he murmurs your name.

You yelp, jumping to your knees on the edge of the mattress when you’re caught off guard, having been in your own little world, your eyes wide and wild for a moment before reality sinks in, a breath of relief and joy escaping your lungs.

You rip the earbuds out of your ears, not even bothering to put them in their case as you bounce giddily off the bed, running to greet Tim, practically leaping into his arms.

“Hey, baby,” he croons as he lifts you up, your legs circling his waist, his fingers digging into your backside. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m glad to see you have catlike reflexes in case there ever is a real threat,” he teases, hearing the smile in his voice, even though you can’t currently see his face because you’re too busy planting kisses along his neck and jaw.

You giggle-snort and you inhale his scent, a much needed comfort. He kicks the door closed and embraces you tightly, walking you backwards in his arms and plopping you onto the bed, climbing over you, caging you against the mattress with long, heavy limbs.

“What were you listening to, precious?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his throat as he begins kissing and worshipping your bare breasts, his tongue deftly circling each nipple, alternating between the two.

“Smashing Pumpkins,” you reply, whimpering as he takes a stiff peak into his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth before popping off with a wet smack of his lips.

“Mm,” he hums, grinding his erection into you. “Thought that tune sounded familiar.”

He wraps you in his arms, his weight heavy and comforting on top of you, his eyes boring into yours.

“I missed you,” you say, your voice hardly above a whisper.

“Missed you too, precious,” he rumbles, nuzzling your neck, mustache tickling your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, your breath catching when he grinds against you again, your arousal already soaking clear through the lace.

You press your nose to the perspiration darkening his shirt, inhaling deeply, the smell both a comfort and an aphrodisiac, making you tingle in all the right places.

“You smell so good,” you mumble against his shoulder.

“I’m sweating like a goddamn whore in church. I’m not suited to this Texas weather,” he grunts in disagreement.

“Hey, hey, hey, mind your tongue. You may not believe this, but you’re actually talking to a whore right now,” you tease with a grin.

“And besides,” you add, poking him in the ribs, “I’m rather fond of your sweat.”

He groans in mock annoyance with a low chuckle, shaking his head as he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“What would you like tonight, Detective?” you purr, both legs hooping around his waist.

“Mmm,” he grunts, pressing his hips against yours, rolling them forward at an agonizingly slow pace. “I have an idea…” he says. “But only if you’re up for it.”

“With you, I’m up for anything.”

One corner of his mustache curls into a wry smirk, his eyes flashing with lust.

“Well then,” he says, sitting up to shrug his leather harness off, his hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “Take your panties off, sweetheart.”

You don’t waste a single second, shimmying them down your legs, dangling the black lace from your foot, extending it toward him.

He takes the scant fabric from you, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling deeply, his pupils dilating with lust.

“You smell so fucking pretty,” he growls, putting them to the side with his harness. “Spread your legs for me.”

Your legs part, your folds blooming open for his hungry gaze, glistening with slick.

“So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he whispers as he climbs onto the bed, pushing your legs further apart, positioning his broad shoulders in between.

You giggle, your skin warming as you look down at him, his lips hovering inches from your core.

“I thought you wanted to try something different this time,” you say with a playful grin.

“Mm,” he rumbles low in his chest, planting kisses along the soft inner flesh of your thighs. “I do. But I want to make you come on my tongue first,” he explains, his dark brown eyes meeting yours over the ridge of your mound.

Your hips flex involuntarily closer to his mouth, a small whimper escaping. He’s one of very few clients who actually cares about your pleasure, and the only one who sees you as a person rather than a toy for fast and easy gratification.

With a devious grin, his face dips between your legs, his fingers spreading your folds as he drags the flat of his tongue agonizingly slow up your seam, entrance to clit.

He pauses at the pert bud, circling it slowly before lifting your hips, slinging your legs over his shoulders to grant him better passage to your sopping wet heat.

With a soft groan, his tongue plunges into your core, a deep hum in the back of his throat as he tastes your essence.

“Always so fucking sweet for me,” he murmurs against your flesh, lavishing a few more slow, steady swipes up your seam, making your hips twitch.

He brings one arm up to bar across your pelvis, holding you in place as his attention shifts to your clit, his lips suctioning around the sensitive bud while he sinks two fingers with the opposite hand into your silken tunnel, slowly pumping them in and out.

You mewl as he curls them slightly in a ‘come hither’ motion, brushing against the sensitive patch of nerves, his lips steadily sucking and tongue swirling your engorged clit.

As the onslaught continues, your fingers tangle in his dark, graying curls, your hips sputtering with the exertion of trying to move despite being pinned down, a satisfied hum vibrating against your core as he keeps you from wriggling beneath him.

“Tim—“ you whine as he presses your body more firmly into the mattress, his fingers gradually speeding up. He’s been fine tuned to your body for a while, and he can feel you how close you are.

“Fuck… Tim…” you whine again, your heels digging into his back as you come hard and fast, your walls fluttering and tightening around his fingers.

He groans against your sex as you come, catching every last drop of you on his tongue, the vibrations only intensifying your release as he works you through it. His eyes lift to see you, watching you fall apart for him.

He pulls away when he’s satisfied that you’re completely done, his mustache and chin glistening with evidence of your pleasure, a thin, shiny string of come still connecting you to his fingertips briefly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, placing reverent kisses along your inner thighs, his dick straining painfully hard against his zipper.

“What now, Detective?” you ask softly, mussing his curly strands with your fingers.

He grins up at you, dark brown eyes somehow becoming impossibly darker as he crawls off the edge of the bed and hovers above you, liberating his upper half of the sweat-stained undershirt he wears beneath the button up.

You love to marvel at his thick, toned biceps, but even more than that, you love the slight, soft paunch of his lower belly, a swathe of dark curls disappearing below the waistband of his boxer-briefs as he kicks the slacks aside.

“Stop staring at my belly,” he scolds with a smirk, his underwear soon joining the discarded slacks, heavy, uncut cock rigid and weeping for you as he slowly begins to pump himself.

“I like your belly,” you tell him with an affectionate pout, swiping two of your fingers along your seam as your gaze lingers on his pistoning fist.

“First my sweat, now my belly. Guess I should cut back on all those donuts, huh?” he remarks playfully in a self-deprecating tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows as you peer up at him.

“Don’t. Makes a good pillow,” you say with a soft smile, biting your lower lip, causing his cock to twitch in his hand.

“Stand up,” he tells you lowly in a sudden commanding tone that makes your walls clench, no hesitation whatsoever as you immediately comply.

“Yes sir,” you hum, eliciting a low growl from him.

“Turn around. Hands on your head,” he commands now, turning on his cop voice as he steps behind you. You attempt to turn your head to watch him over your shoulder, only to have him shove it forward forcefully.

“Eyes front,” he growls. “And hands on your head like I told you.”

You don’t dare dawdle a second time, gasping softly as you bring your hands to the back of your head, interlocking your fingers.

You hear a metallic jingle at your six and it doesn’t take you long to realize what’s happening.

You and Tim have used cuffs before, sure. The pink fuzzy ones that you keep in your top drawer, the ones he often referred to as a joke when they didn’t tighten to his liking and popped open far too easily. But these? You can already tell these are the real deal.

You can’t help but wonder where he had them hidden, but perhaps you weren’t meant to know.

He grabs each wrist one at a time, pulling one arm behind your back and then the other, placing each cuff around your wrist and tightening them until the cool steel is biting into your flesh, a far cry from the novelty ones you’ve used before.

You had established safe words long ago, and he had your list of do’s and don’t’s committed to memory, but he still checks in with you the second they’re tightened, leaning forward to find your gaze, silently confirming with your eyes that you’re okay.

One corner of his upper lip curves slightly into an almost imperceptible smirk when you meet his visage with a warm smile.

“I said eyes front,” he chides, shoving your head forward again, making your back arch with a low whimper.

“We’re bringing you down to the station for questioning,” he states, your name a soft purr on his tongue as he begins Mirandizing you, the speech so deeply ingrained in his memory he could recite it word for word in his sleep.

You play into the fantasy, beginning to fight against the brute hold he has, wrists twisting in the cuffs.

“I’m innocent, Officer Rockford, I swear! I had to kill Gene! He had it coming!” you say, adding the extra dramatics simply because you can.

You have no idea who Gene is, a name you pulled entirely out of thin air, but it seems to stir Tim up, which is exactly what you wanted it to do. He hated even hearing other men’s names on your lips, real or fictional alike.

He places the heel of his palm between your shoulder blades and forces you face down, a moan escaping your lungs as you continue to resist, the loud ringing of skin harshly meeting skin echoing in the small room as he abruptly smacks your ass hard in retaliation.

“‘Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law’,” he reiterates, hearing the blade of agitation in his voice, leaning over you so the thick head of his cock grinds painfully against the cheek he just slapped. “Don’t think this isn’t going on your record, sweetheart.”

You tremor, your skin heating. ‘Precious’ is what he called you during moments of affection and, dare you say, love?, but ‘sweetheart’… well, that was a term of endearment reserved only for times like these, and it never failed to turn you on more.

You moan, writhing more fervently in his grip, the blunt head of his cock pushing even harder against the soft flesh of your smarting backside.

“My lawyer will be hearing about this! Police brutality! Abuse of power!” you cry out, playing it up more than necessary, but it’s apparent he likes it.

“Fuck your lawyer,” he snarls, smacking the same cheek a second time, making you yelp. “We have sufficient evidence to bring you in, and now a confession. You’re going away for a long time, sweetheart.”

Before you can counter, he leans downs, broad chest pinning you beneath him, his plush lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Maybe we can work something out. Off the books,” he purrs, pulling your earlobe between his teeth and tugging. “We could get you off on an insanity or self defense plea.”

Your frantic motions still, the only movement the slow ascent and descent of your rib cage.

“How do we do that, Officer Rockford?” you ask in the most pathetic, submissive tone you can muster. He smirks above you, but you don’t see it.

“By getting me off,” he croons, teasing your slick folds with his cock, your tunnel instinctively tightening.

Without ample warning, he lines himself up and plunges himself deep inside of you, his pelvis meeting yours in a single, brutal thrust, making you keen as your fingers and toes curl in tandem.

You like it rough, a fact he’s well aware of.

“That’s my girl. You take my cock so well,” he praises, trying not to dwell too much on the idea that it’s literally your job to take cock well, the possessiveness he tries to hide igniting within him.

The ridge of his nose creases, his teeth bared through a hiss as he slowly begins fucking in and out of you, wide fingers digging a bruising grip into your hips.

“You are mine, aren’t you? Only mine,” he grunts, pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in again.

“Yes, Tim,” you whine, every harsh slam of his hips against yours making you keen and gasp. “Only yours.”

“Repeat it,” he commands, yanking back on your bound wrists so hard that you’re partially suspended above the mattress, making you cry out in a way that gives him pause until you ensure him visually that you’re still okay.

“I’m yours, Tim. Only yours,” you repeat through heady breaths, your lower lip dangling in ecstasy as the speed and intensity of his thrusts gradually increases.

It wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time clients would ask you to profess the same words to them, with varying iterations, but Tim was the only one you ever meant it with. Only for him. Only his.

“That’s my good girl,” Tim hums reverently, his face tensing and contorting above you, and although you’re faced away from him, you know by his rhythm and vocal changes that he’s getting close.

“Gonna… paint those pretty walls with my cum,” he pants, one hand still clutching your wrists, the other reaching around to slowly circle your clit.

“Come on my cock, precious,” he urges, hissing as he attempts to maintain control. “Come for me.”

It only takes a few more well placed strokes between his cock and his fingers, working you to a second, more intense orgasm than the first, his name a prayer flowing from your tongue as your tunnel practically strangles his thick length, spurring his own intense release mere moments later.

Under normal circumstances, you required every client to wear protection, no exceptions. You never let your clients come in you — either in your womb or mouth — only ever a condom or on your skin, and anyone who attempted otherwise would be summarily barred from future services.

But Tim, like everything else involving him, was the one and only exception, the hot jets of spend shooting against your g-spot heightening your orgasm as you milk his balls of every last drop.

With a final, breathy groan and shiver, Tim collapses with a sigh on top of you.

—

You both lie naked on your bed, halfway on top of his chest with your arms and legs wrapped around as his warm, heavy hands massage your bruised wrists in slow, tender circles.

You’re wide awake but neither of you is speaking, basking in each other’s post-coital afterglow, finding peace in simply listening to the other’s breaths and heartbeats in the stifling silence of the room.

He knows you won’t leave the brothel, not anytime soon, too worried about assisting the madams in protecting the younger, more naive and impressionable girls from succumbing to harm at the hands of clients or hostile outsiders while still being able to pay off your debts, fiscally or otherwise.

Still, it doesn’t prevent him from dreaming of a life with you. Waking up next to you every morning or falling asleep inside you every night, curled up in his arms. Give you a life you won’t allow yourself to have, at least not right now.

He continues circling your soft wrists with his thumbs, his brow knitting with concern.

“I was too rough this time, wasn’t I?” he asks you quietly, the remorse in his tone palpable. The concern he has for your wellbeing makes your heart clench and your throat constrict.

“No,” you answer with a soft giggle. “It was perfect.”

He mirrors your giggle with a deep, throaty chuckle, pulling you all the way on top of him, arms encasing you as he buries his face against your neck.

One day, he thinks to himself. One day.

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ intruders in the cabin ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ toby rogers x reader ୨୧ after your long walk through the forest, the stranger's cabin approaches but so does the dark... find part one: strangers in the woods. a/n: (1.5k words) sorry this took so long! i had so many different ideas of how this would go but i ended up liking this one best 🩷

After the long trek from within the forest, the encompassing trees merged into the dark distance. Ahead of you and Toby, who you came to know lived out here for his job, was a two story cabin. It wasn't overly large but you could tell it wouldn't be cramped inside.

You both were coming out of the forest from the right side of the house. At the front of the house was a small porch area with an old weathered metal stool. There were two dirt tracks from a vehicle winding into the forest. Toby offhandedly pointed to it as he walked up the porch stairs mentioning that that's the only way to get to an exit road.

He pulled out a silver key that was beginning to rust out of his jean pocket. His hand twitched a few times as if he had a bad hand cramp before roughly shoving the key into the lock.

Said wooden door was roughly shoved open hitting the wall behind it with a thud. The roof lights took a few seconds to come on after he flicked the light switch but he seemed to know where to go without them anyway. You hesitantly follow him into the old house.

It's not as if you had any other choice really. How else would you find your way out to the woods in the dark?

The interior was just as aged as the rest of the place. There were two brown couches one opposite the tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace, the other was on the right of the tv closing the living room off from the kitchen. There was a coffee table in between the two couches that had seen better days.

The kitchen table didn't look much better, there were four chairs although one had a bent leg and was sitting on an angle. So was one of the wooden cabinets barely hanging onto its hinges.

What else would you expect from a park ranger? Though it was a bit odd for someone your age to be doing this kind of job but then again the job market was rough so you gave the guy some slack.

He led you to couches where you sat on the nearest seat. Although it didn't look like it, the couch was more comfy than it looked. You almost melted back as you took in the rest of the room's details.

Most of the pictures and wall decor had a layer of dust on it, with thick cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling. There were worn marks from frequent use on the stairs opposite the front door, leading to the second floor of the cabin.

The creak of the fridge door opening startled you from your observations. Toby's head was peering into the fridge. "What'd you want? We've got gross pulp juice or flat cola?"

Not particularly your favourite choices in the world.

"Oh, there's some redbull cans- never mind their Bri- uh. My roommates." You were practically telepathic thanks to your customer service job but you could only just make out what he was mumbling about.

"I'll just have the juice, thank you" He hummed in agreement as he pulled out two glasses and poured you both a glass of the bulb orange juice.

He went around the other couch sitting down and leaning over to place your drink on the rackety table.

As he drank his eyes never left you, as if trying to soul search you. Under such intensive eyes you picked at the ends of your shirt, an odd habit you picked up during your time at school.

"So, do you live here alone?" Another habit of yours rose to the surface, filling the awkward silence. A habit you picked up at work.

"No, i have roommates"

He literally just mentioned it. Ugh you idiot, honestly.

"Right, you did mention that. Sorry" You quickly reached forward to grab your cup, raising it quickly to your mouth.

He laughed a bit, more like chuckled at your misfortune before muttering 'it's fine'.

"So why're you walking the trail you know before you got lost?" He emphasised the lost part as if he knew you weren't really. You gulped uncomfortably.

"I wanted to clear my head, walk with nature- that kinda thing." He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Walk with nature? What the hell does that even mean" You scoffed.

Clearly this guy hadn't read many self care books.

"You know, like to get away from what's bothering you" He shrugged nonchalantly and placed his empty cup down.

"I usually try to get away from the forest with all my problems" You somewhat snorted, also placing your half drank cup down.

A surprisingly easy quiet washed over you both. You were finally able to fully take in the fidgeting man in front of you.

He really was quite attractive. His hair had the slightest curl to it and he had the nicest eyelashes. His jawline too was perfect for his face. Not to mention his build too, he clearly had a runner's body but slightly more muscles in his arms, he- he was smirking too. He definitely saw you check him out. Opps.

"Would you like to share?" His voice jolted you out of your embrassing trance, you only just managed to not let it show.

"Share what?" He stretched his arms a bit before leaning one on the back to the couch with the other one falling back next to his legs.

"Share your problems, why you were out 'with nature'" His voice held a soft yet joking tone.

"Oh uh, it was just my boss- ex boss now"

"Oh, yeah?" He sat up a bit, more interested in what you had to spill.

"Yeah, he was a bit of a dick. Fired me which majorly sucks" He let out a 'oof' sound as he blew out air in a sigh.

"Right-o that sucks, damn you're having a worse day than me" You tried not to laugh, a tight smile the result.

"Happened yesterday actually so between us, you're having a worse day so" You dramatically shrugged and he laughed along.

"Fair enough" His voice teasingly defeated.

After a bit more back and forth talking about anything under the sun for a good while. He got up grabbing both your cups and retreating to the kitchen once more, asking if you wanted a refill.

As you were about to answer, a light shone through the gaps in the curtains. Toby was frozen in place before quickly darting over to you.

He roughly grabbed your upper arm pulling you up and into him. You whimpered an 'ow' out before he forcefully pulled you away from the couch and towards the stairs.

"What the fuck, let go of me!" Your voice spiraled the more confused you got and the longer he gripped you tight.

He merely lowly grunted in response, almost pushing you up the stairs. He got you about half-way up when the door slammed open.

Two men around the same height walked in and stopped at the view of you two. The man who walked in first had dark hair, a tan jacket over a red checkered shirt. In his hand was a black and white mask.

The other man had lighter hair, an off-yellow hoodie and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a black ski mask looking hood.

They were covered in blood except their faces. The masks however were dripping in blood, most of it falling onto the wooden floor.

A scream rang through the dimly lit cabin. It wasn't until Toby's hand violently covered your both did you realize it was coming from you.

Your now muffled cries seemed to awaken the two new men out of their distraction.

"What the fuck Toby? We were gone what three- four hours and you bring a fucking stray here?" The man with the yellow hoodie angrily ran his hand through his messy hair while the other man shook his head in disbelief before collapsing down onto the couch.

"She got lost, besides she's pretty" His stuttering heightened the more the man glared at him.

"I don't care whether she Helen of fucking Troy Toby! You know the rules"

Your attempts to get free were futile, with Toby's arm wrapped around your middle and his hand covering your mouth. Your wriggling and jolting did nothing but push you into him again and again.

He grumbled under his breath before flipping you around to face him. He held both your wrists in one hand while his other wrapped around the back of your head.

You could feel the sting on your arms and neck from his harshness. Your wide eyes watering in fear and the cold air. Your jarpled words mixed together to form a barely cohert sentence. Thoughts too scattered to comprehend the situation.

Toby's eyes were blank but his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Well, it seems like you are having a worse day than me huh?" You blinked in confusion.

You opened your mouth to respond when his hand shifted to your hair pulling at the roots. He pushed your head towards his shoulder. Then in a split second he smacked your head towards the hard, cold wall.

[1d1195]

Toothpaste IV

Read Toothpaste here | ~1.8k words

From me: By popular demand 🦷

Warnings: some sexual tension, some oral fixation, and fairly sexy innuendos. Toothpaste anon, I know what you said but I wanted a really slow burn here. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But not quite yet..

Summary: “Did y’mean it?”

“Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date.

Harry hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for her to get out. Although she was already part way through opening it and Harry would have to remember that next time. But right now, he wanted her inside his house and would let it slide. “Let me,” he offered and took the bag of their to go order. She was so goddamn stunning it melted him. He put a hand on her lower back as he ushered her up the steps to his place.

Harry’s house wasn’t huge. It was just him, after all. A cute little porch was at the top of three little steps, a large window to the left of the door but she couldn’t see inside because of the curtains hiding behind the glass. A single chair and end table were in front of the window. A spot for reading and drinking coffee if she had to imagine.

In fact, she imagined Harry sitting there, completing a crossword puzzle first thing in the morning while the sun was still rising. If she lived in his house, she probably wouldn’t use the door to get to the porch. She loved the idea of a window that was large enough to open to the porch. It didn’t make sense. It was right next to the door. But it was adorable. To the right of the door was a large planter filled with colorful flowers and she imagined her extremely attractive dentist, boss, and date tending to a garden. The thought went straight to her heart.

Pulling the key back out of the lock, he opened the door and ushered her inside and closing, the door behind her. He put the bag of food on the entry table right next to the staircase. He reached for her shoulders, sliding his fingers below her hair and tugging the collar of her jacket down.

Her eyes adjusted to the semi-dark. Without any lights on, his place was cast in varying shades of white, gray, and black. But she could make out the room—a couch, a loveseat, and a coffee table. The TV hung above the mantle and fireplace. Paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls. Behind the couch was a bookshelf; each cubby filled with everything Harry enjoyed reading. She crouched immediately to read the titles. Harry brought the food to the kitchen. She didn’t take the books out but she pulled the ones she thought she would like down. “If you can part with these, I’d like borrow them.”

He smiled thoughtfully, leaning on the armrest of the loveseat. He crossed his feet at the ankles and his hands were in his pockets. “Y’can have whatever y’want.”

His kitchen was along the back wall, no dining room, but he had two seats around a small table—like an island in the middle. Everything was decorated so expertly. “Did you decorate yourself?” She asked.

“Gemma helped,” he shrugged. “We have similar taste,” he explained.

Gemma was Harry’s sister and not a reason for her to be jealous. But it seemed they would all get along swimmingly. “Can she help decorate my apartment?”

He chuckled. “M’sure she’d love that.”

She stood up and went to the fridge looking at the pictures and coupons that he had under magnets of places he visited? Maybe? Or maybe they were a souvenir from friends and family. Pictures of Gemma, a sweet little baby girl, and a woman that was most definitely where Harry got his gorgeous looks from adorned the door.

The place was so cozy and warm. She wanted to live there. Not to be dramatic, but whether Harry lived there or not. “I love your house,” she smiled. Harry stayed put at the armrest while he watched her inspect his place. He wanted to give her space and let her make the moves and make sure she was comfortable.

It took every bit of restraint for Harry to say thank you and not, it’s yours regarding her compliment of his home.

He was dead serious in saying she could have whatever she wanted. He was putty in her hands. Wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted? He was going to give it to her. “Can I take my shoes off?”

He snorted. “Course, y’don’t have t’ask.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.”

He shook his head with a smirk. He went over to the stove, turning on the soft light. It gave the room a romantic feel to it. Like how a couple would slow-dance to nothing but the music in their head. Then he went to her side and immediately dropped to his knees. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it took off rapidly, pounding so loudly she felt it in every inch of her body. She wondered if this was a dream because she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about it a lot in the time that she had known Harry.

His fingers danced at her ankle, skimming softly against her skin, and he coaxed her foot out of one shoe and then the other. He stood slowly, extremely close to her body. Only a breath of space between them. “Does your tooth hurt?” He asked. She shook her head. He smiled. “Good.” Then he kissed her. His hands on her hips and she knew his mouth was already perfect because he was a dentist, but she forgot that kissing would add a whole level to that perfection. He pulled away briefly, his eyes scanning her face for signs of regret. His smile was so pretty, and he sighed like this was the happiest moment of his life. She felt her chest aching something fierce. She slid one hand along the side of his face and the other went around through his soft hair at the back of his head and pulled him back in. He hummed in approval making her shiver involuntarily. “Are y’cold?” He asked against her lips.

“No,” she shook head refusing to talk when his mouth was there to kiss.

His hands reached down further, gripping the back of her thighs and he lifted her onto the counter. Bringing her toward the edge of it so he could settle his hips between her legs and wrap them around his hips. “Did y’mean it?” He asked, his lips peppering kisses along her mouth and face as he allowed her to breathe. Her breath came in quiet gasps. Unbelievably turned on and warm.

His lips followed the length of her jaw all the way to her ear before it took a turn and then descended down her neck. “Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date. But him kissing her was a good sign, wasn’t it? She didn’t scare him off quite yet. “Don’t be shy now, kitten,” he murmured into her skin. “Told me y’would open wide the second day I met you.”

She huffed out a breath of laughter as his lips trailed across her collarbone to the other side to complete the loop of kisses he was placing along her skin. “I did not say that.”

“Would y’open wide?” He pulled his mouth from her skin. She couldn’t make out the pretty green color, even with the stove light, but she could make out he was gazing at her, his pupils huge and lovely as he eyed her. Her throat felt tight with desire, and she nodded silently. His eyes stayed locked with hers. “Open,” he ordered.

She dropped her jaw. Slowly he drew his hand up her body, making her eyelids flutter as she waited patiently. His hand held the side of her neck and keeping his slow pace he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, then the top one before finally pressing it on her tongue.

“Suck.”

His other hand was holding her thigh still so she knew he would feel the muscle contraction from between her legs and he grunted when her lips closed around his digit.

Then she sucked.

“Fuck,” he hissed. She could feel him hardening between her legs pressed close to her core. “Eyes,” he hummed. She didn’t even realize she had closed them. “Did y’mean it?” He repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about. Her tongue was lapping at his thumb and swirling around it like it was his dick and that made her tighten more as he ground his erection against her. Thank God she wore a dress. “Did y’mean it?” He asked again. “Hmm?” she hummed around his thumb making him inhale sharply at the insinuating vibration. She whimpered softly as he pressed harder onto her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks desperate for more. “Fuck,” he hissed pulling his hand away. “Did y’mean it when y’said y’were falling in love?”

Her shyness returned. Which was beautiful in its own right. The way her mouth closed around his thumb would be a visual that would never leave his mind for long. “Yes,” she whispered and looked down at her lap, right where they were closest to one another.

“Do y’think m’not?” He asked, tilting her chin back up. Her heart fluttered and she felt breathless, stunned, unable to move. Harry was brilliant, had his own practice, and a house that was so goddamn cute she wanted to scream. Falling in love with her? No, she didn’t think she was that lucky. “M’falling very hard for you, kitten,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, melting her like she was nothing but candle wax.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...” he glanced down between them, where her core was pressed against his dick aching to escape his pants. Her dress covered her so he couldn’t see but he could feel how warm she was pressed against him. “Do y’want t’go upstairs?” He asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

“We don’t have to,” he assured her. He would probably have to take a cold shower and think about her the whole time, but they didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to.

His kindness was sweet, more than adorable. But if his thumb was merely a precursor to what laid ahead? She didn’t want to prolong her pleasure any longer. “Harry,” she giggled quietly. “I have a cavity.”

He tilted his head at her. “Are y’in pain?” He asked, concern filling his voice. He ran his thumb along her jawline, ghosting softly in case it was sensitive and hurt too much with even a touch on the outside of her mouth. He didn’t even care how rapidly the eye-fucking and the dry-humping stopped and changed to talk of toothaches.

“It really needs to be filled,” she said knowingly.

His eyes darted back to hers as realization flooded him. “Oh, fuck yes, love,” he moaned and yanked her toward him, kissed her, and carried her upstairs.

--

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[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #5

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗��𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. yall! life has been crazy. your girl is finally back. I'm so sorry I love you all for loving me. lets geeettt etttt. x (this chapter is loosely proofread)

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. change your mind by moonchild ♫

I kick the duvet off my bed onto the floor, leaving my skin frozen as the blue sky begins to make an appearance like an oil painting on my bedroom walls. My throat is dry and my muscles are tight. I cried before I went to bed but this time it wasn’t over the business, it was about me. When was the last time I cried about me? A deep yawn allowed a stretch to be released from my stiff body. I don’t remember falling asleep here but my back thanked me for it. What happened yesterday? In-house client consultations weren't unpopular just not as common as they used to be. Most days, folks want a Pinterest-made bathroom cutting out the middle price of my creativity. Like I say, who am I to complain?

My phone was crowded with email notifications of applicants. I was one step closer to taking a huge load off my shoulders and that felt good. So good, that I brewed a pot of coffee because I had the time. I reached under the kitchen sink and among the disorganized cleaning products a Mr. Coffee Pot was birthed. I had switched to a fancy automatic dispenser but there’s nothing like a cheap hot drip. I perch my lips on the edge of my mug before opening my mouth. Across the yard, through the window is my neighbor Nora, the lemon lady, as I call her. Just about this time of the year, she would leave a small brown crate of lemons on my front porch. Our conversations were short and awkward but she was a pretty lady to look at. She was heading to work in a blue dress that suctioned her body and extenuated the light brown fro flourishing on her scalp. I wonder how she's doing, my wonder would never be strong enough to open the door and ask that.

Hair and teeth were brushed promptly before opening my laptop and scheduling interviews. The most recent application was from the woman who stood in my house just last night. My first instinct was to pick up my phone and send a photograph with a witty sentence accompanying it. However, I refrained and stared at the email. I could hear her voice describe the elements of her resume. It was a sweet delusion and ghostly experience to recall her rasp but it eased some tension to know I could possibly have her around more.

I didn’t know what to do with the time I had magically acquired this morning. The possibilities seemed vast and the anxiety I felt from the thought of breaking my routine made me just sit in silence. A silence that was paired with fantastical grandeur from a childish part of my brain. Daydreaming about her was a great way to begin my morning.

Over to the loudest street on the west side with two clients already secured, I felt accomplished with the direction both projects were going. A turn down the road revealed a paramedic hauling away a gurney. Without worrying about the parking situation I pull the keys out of the ignition and jog over to the scene. All my men were crowding around the truck and I pushed through them to see pale bone breaking through the flesh of my roofer. I winced at the sight and looked up quickly to meet the eyes of the victim. 

“Boss,” He chuckled in a stupefied state. “ I fell down.” 

We all shared a moment of happiness that the injury didn’t result in any other damage. I took pride in knowing workers comp was going to take care of him for the healing. If it ever did. My back pocket floods with vibrations and I finally interrupt them. 

6:55 am: paramedics? what’s happening abby? 

7:04 am: hello? are you okay?

7:05 am: I don’t see you. where are you? 

As I begin to type and move out of the road to allow the paramedics to leave then I see her, standing on the sidewalk with her house shoes on and draped in a short robe. I could see a bit of relief on her face as I approached her. The closer I got the more nervous I felt but she didn’t have to know that. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry.” She brings her hand to her forehead. 

“So, you were worried?” I poke. 

She chuckles lightly, “My mom made me come outside and check.” 

“Oh right.” I laughed to hide my embarrassment. 

“Well, I’m going back to bed.” She mentioned but her feet didn’t move. 

“Long night?” 

“Longest. It should be illegal to get into arguments after 10 p.m.” 

Her girlfriend was stressing her out again and now that I looked closer, her under eyes were puffy and darkened. She kept her up all night, hopefully not arguing about something concerning me. 

“I agree, that’s a good rule.” 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” 

I nod and turn back towards my truck, wishing we were going in the same direction instead of the opposite one. 

Well into the afternoon I saw her glint in her front yard tending to the blossoming flowers. The old, form-fitting grey sweatpants were dirtied on the knees with brown and green alike. I was leaning against the truck and secretly watched her clean her forehead with her matching shirt, darkened by sweat. I couldn’t stop thinking about how to approach her about the application. Once she had enough digging done she sat in the grass on her behind, leaning on her hands, with her head tossed back. 

I mustered the courage to step away from the car and got a clear view of the most toned parts of her body. My mouth became dry and I had to find the moisture again by lolling my tongue over my lips. She lifted her hand to wave slightly and then to hide her eyes from the sun, even though I am sure she knew it was me. My shadow covered her with a temporary coolness under the fiery sun to which she audibly sighed. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” I smile. 

She opens her big eyes and follows my belt buckle up to my face. She looks glorious in that position, dominant yet completely able to be persuaded. The curves on her body were muscle as much as they were fat. A glorious mixture that made me crave her more — especially when I’m not supposed to. 

“Ms. Anderson,” She giggled playfully. 

“I saw your application, post-graduate life got you desperate?” 

I wasn’t much of a tease toward women I liked, but in the moment it felt good to watch her face contort in a false sense of temporary anger.

“Don’t think I’d be a good employee?” 

I shrug at her comment but inside the vision of her in business casual clothing, debriefing clients, and leading weekly meetings painted my cheeks red. A woman in charge of me was something I didn’t often relish enough. The facade I give off is the opposite of what’s expected but if she gains my trust… Suddenly, she stood up with her hands clasped around her hips breaking my lewd thoughts. The tips of her fingers slightly perched under the fabric of her loose top. 

“I’m not sure,” I grin. “Isn't that what the interview determines?” 

She rubs her glove up the side of her forearm, leaving traces of soil on her skin. The sunshine reflecting from her body is nearly blinding. I fought off the urge to clean away those imperfections on her.

“Does this mean I have an interview?” She perked up on her heels in excitement. 

The motion triggered a reflex to wrap my hands around her hips and pull her inward as I bent her backward for a passionate kiss. I unknowingly took a step forward as the screeching of a '98 Cadillac Seville pulled quickly into the driveway to separate us. The car hummed and scrapped against the pavement causing me to wince. It was her girlfriend, Ellie. I should move. I should lift my feet and walk back down the street and drill a nail into some wood, but I don’t. 

Ellie slams the door to her car with her greasy hair tucked behind both ears and a slouch on her spine. Her eyes avoid my face and I’m glad that they do. 

“Woah, you’re all dirty,” Ellie smirks. 

“Gardening.” Her one word answer even stings me. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” Ellie’s hand gently clasps her elbow but she pulls away. 

“After I’m done talking to Abby. Why don’t you go up to my room and wait for me?” She asks, sweetly. 

I felt a bulge of confidence wave through my body knowing Ellie was going to listen because of my presence. She cuts her eyes towards me briefly before walking up the driveway to disappear into the house. 

“You okay?” I ask. 

“We’ve been arguing more and more since I moved back home. She’s so sensitive,” Her face crinkles in distress. 

A genuine, heavy pool of laughter escapes my throat. The way she contorted her face to say sensitive showed her disgust of Ellie which I was overly pleased to know. I cover my mouth slightly until she grins too. 

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” She adds. 

“It’s fine. I’ve been in your position before.”

“And what happened?” 

I inhale. “We broke up and it was messy.” 

An oh slips her lips filling the silence between us. I pulled my mind from the clouds to stop its wandering tick of floating into the past. I’ve had many girlfriends but my final relationship, five years ago, was the most mentally taxing years of my life. ‘We broke up and it was messy’ was a simple reduction to a very complex situation. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Ms. Anderson.” Her fingertips rise gently to my arm. The glint in her eyes showed a sincerity that I had never seen before. Most people say sorry to things as a formality but she actually meant it. 

“You’re young, these things happen, you have time.” 

“I hope so.” She mutters as she removes her gloves and tosses them angrily into the grass. 

“All right, sweetheart, if you need me you know where to find me.” 

She mouthed a humble thank you and followed behind her girlfriend. 

The team was disoriented, tired, and lazy upon returning from their first break. Losing my finest roofer was going to cost me time and money. With such short notice, it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to find someone willing to fill in. Men in this industry are always hopping from job to job but I want someone reliable and will stay.

I chuckle in disbelief of what I’m about to do. Contact Ellie, to be my new roofer. 

12:00 p.m. Bad timing to ask you something?

She walked towards my truck as I forced a chip into my mouth. I brush the crumbs off my chest and check my face in the rearview as she boldly pulls the handle to sit in the passenger's seat. She avoided eye contact with me and slammed my door with an angry force.

“Hello,” I say, chewing off the last bit of my food. 

“Was your text a joke?” She snaps, her voice holding a begrudging tremble.

“A joke? No, I would never, not at all I was—” My words were tumbling over each other breaking my cool facade. She did not seem phased by my current display. 

“You want Ellie to work for you.” 

The statement was supposed to come out more like a question but there was no rise in tone at the end of her sentence. 

“I don’t have time to hire someone and test them out. You said she was good, right?” 

“She’s one of the best.” She groaned. 

“Well, to be honest, I’m desperate.” I sigh a little more pathetic than I want. 

She turns her head towards me and melts into the cushions. Her legs widen to touch the door with her kneecap. She twisted her head upwards to admire the black upholstery on the ceiling, exposing her kissable neck. I feel a zing of warmth travel from my cheeks to my thighs and I twitch at the unfamiliar feeling. One that I haven’t felt in ages. I run a lingering thumb against the seam of my pants and relish the sensation I feel through them. She turns and looks at me, leaving me frozen. Those eyes were dark with a desire that awakened a sleeping part of me. 

Why did my body suddenly feel like a flowering opening upon first bloom? I was no teenager discovering the female body for the first time but why did it feel like that?

“Fine. I’ll tell Ellie to call you.” Absentmindedly she tugs her lip into her mouth and I cross my ankles because crossing my legs would be too obvious. 

“I owe you.” My voice sounds strained as I exhale into the air. 

In her bedroom, I had my tape measure in hand with a small notebook and golf pencil. The boxes in the room had been cleared since the last time I was here. I had to redo the farthest bathroom wall three times as a tender need pressed against my zipper. The pressure of the metal alone was making my legs wobble. When was the last time I was truly aroused? Her perfume coaxed the walls in the same sickeningly sweet warm musk that followed behind her. My concentration was drained.

"Ms. Anderson?" She asked lightly in the door frame.

I swivel my head like a cartoon character, not particularly shocked by her presence but at my lack of bodily control. "Hey."

"Just wondering how you're doing?" She asked.

Her gardening top had become soaked around the collar and the cuff under her arms. Those sleeves were now folded inward displaying a vast spread of skin. I was going to be thinking about this interaction all day.

"Done." I lie.

"Good, I'm overdue for a shower," She giggled as she walked into the room in what I saw as slow-mo. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks again. I seriously owe you." I repeat.

"I know," she smiles, starting to lift the hem of her shirt up. "Just make sure I have an interview next week and we're good."

The last thing I saw before leaving the room was a rousing glare, over her right shoulder, in my direction.

DONATIONS FOR DR CONGO

[pocketsizedq]

The ways they show affection

Lukas Dostal

-wakes you up with coffee

->come into your guys shared room.

->place a few kisses on your head helping you sit up handing you coffee either from your favorite place or some made at home if you are up when he’s getting ready for practice

-giving you all of his attention

->always loves to hear about your day or any new gossip you have learned

->would never tell you that he loves hearing the gossip but just loves seeing your eyes light up as you tell him all that’s going on at work

-always orders food if you say no

->He always makes sure to get extra food so you can have some too and that you never getting hungry and not have some food at home

-takes you to skate

->he loves skating with you as it’s his to favorite things and you both can just enjoy being on the ice together and can talk about things

-always text you reminds about things

->oh you’ve got a doctor appointment? He’s already texted you remind you. Have you drink any water today? Did you take your medicine? I love you.

->thoses are some of the things he would text you

Jamie Drysdale

- wearing a simple bracelet around his wrist for when you get nervous

->he’d notice how you would play with his fingers or like play with his arm hair when you are nervous so started wearing a bracelet around his wrist so you could play with it.

-always stands up for you

-whether it be you getting uncomfortable in a conversation or not wanting to face conflict. He’d get out of his way and push past his own anxiety to help you.

-deep conversations

->he loves when you both can just sit on the porch drinking a new bottle of wine he had gotten and talk about the future of your relationship or how you both are feeling mentally

-always does something out of the blue

->writing little letter to you,sending little voice messages about how much he loves you or taking you out on a random date

-complimenting you

->he always makes sure to compliment you everyday to make sure you know you are loved and special to him

Cole Caufield

-lets you wear his shoes when your heels get uncomfortable

->you both would be walking out of a club or something and he’d notice that your feet would start to bother you so he kindly offers you his shoes to which he has to insist on

->he would carry your heels and walk barefoot with you back to the car happy that you aren’t in pain

->he never would say no to traded shoes as he just wants you to be comfortable

-wears a bracelet you made him around his wrist

->he nearly cried when he found out you made him a little bracelet out of some of your old beads you had

->never takes it off as it’s a good luck charm now and always kisses it before putting it back on his wrist to go play a game

-always buys you alittle something every where he goes

->if he’s playing an away game he’d go and buy you something like a charm or something in the city that reminds you of the city he went to

-always reassuring you

->if you ever feel insecure? He’s your hype man

->always makes sure that your smiling around him and always tries to keep that frown upside down

-always tries to keep things positive around you

->he’s your sunshine. if you ever down he tries to pick you back up and wipe you off. Always makes sure your happy wither it’s cracking a joke or making a fool of himself always tries to keep a smile on your face

Adam Fantilli

-keeping a pad/tampon in his wallet for you

->always has one of him if you ever need it. he keeps both in there as he never remembers what you use but just keeps it on him

-spraying his cologne on your teddy bear when he has to leave

->he had gotten you a teddy bear with a umich shirt on it and he sprays it so you can cuddle it and know he loves you

->it even has a button on it that you can press and it says “I love you princess”

-wears a dog tag around his neck that has “I love you” engraved in your hand writing on it

->never takes it off and always wears it. You had gotten it for his 19th birthday and now calls it his lucky charm

-has a playlist made for you

->he had a made a playlist of songs that would remind you of him and that remind you that he’s all ways there for you and loves you.

-lets you rant

->he even if he has something big coming up would stay up with you after a game to listen to all of the stuff that is bothering you or is coming up.

Luca Fantilli

-kissing you every time you pout

->he’d jokely say no to something like going to get ice cream and you’d put on a fake pout to which he’d kiss and say “I’m just kidding baby”

->every time he sees even a small pout on your lips he’d kiss it

-love letters to the max

->he’d leave small letters in your car,backpack,your sports bag and dorm

->he just wants you to have something that you can take with you to remind you that he loves you and sometimes it’s just even a small smiley face saying “thinking of you”

-smacking your butt

->if you watch out for booty man.

->in a loving way if your walking up the stairs or in front of him he’d give your butt a squish to remind you that he’s there

-putting his head on your boobs

->He started doing it more when you got pregnant with your guys first kid and would always keep his head on your chest and a hand on your bump rubbing it.

-keeping a hair tie around his wrist

->he always has one around his wrist which comes in handy sometimes if you ever need your hair pulled back

Nico Hischier

-keeps eyes on you at all times

->wether you are cooking or out in public he always keeps an eye on you in a protective way making sure nothing happens to you.

->as he knows the dangers of Newark and the area of the city and he also doesn’t want you to silp up and accidentally cut yourself without him knowing

-braiding your hair

->he started doing it by himself but was worried he would tangle your hair so he asked you to teach him

->now anytime your sick or need your hair up he would braid it. Also has started watching YouTube videos on more ways to braid it

-puts his beanie on your head

->if he notices your ears even getting a hint of red in color he’s will take his beanie off his head putting it on yours and says “shush just wear it”

-writes your initial on his stick

->always after you both started getting serious he started putting your first and last letter on his stick with a heart as he thinks it would bring him more good luck

-always checks up on you

->wether it’s a small message or a 10 minute call every day he makes sure you are okay and doing okay

Jack Hughes

-covering corners when you lean over

->he’s like a slient protector. If you ask him about it he wouldn’t know what your talking about but he would always cover corners so you wouldn’t hit your head

-warms up a towel for you

->anytime your about to shower or in the shower he always makes sure to throw your towel in the dryer so it’s nice and warm when you come out.

-cooks for you

->from the articles it’s says that Jack is a good cook so he takes his chief abilities and makes you dinner when ever he can

->learns how to cook your favorite meal and cooks it for you every now and then

-being your cheerleader

-> he always has someone shouting for him including you but he wanted to be shouter for once and always cheers you on in anything you do whether it’s your job or just working out

-always sending you good morning and good night text

-if he’s not home he always makes sure to tell you good morning and night with a heart and I love you with it

Luke Hughes

-always has your favorite snacks at his place (Jack’s)

->literally has a sticky note on the snacks that say “don’t touch theses are for y/n”

->always makes sure you are fed and happy

-showers you with compliments

->he always reminds you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you

-cuddles

->always is holding you close and just keeping you close

->is strong cuddler and just knowing you are right by him gives him peace of mine

-compromising with you

->is always open to hearing your side before barking down the bush with you and never wants to upset you with arguing

-scratching your back

->every night before you fall asleep you always fell him start to scratch your back to help you fall asleep

Quinn Hughes

- definitely a play fighter

->you both would be cuddling then he’d start tickling you which would turn into you both play fighting and him just loving at you with loving eyes.

-always tries to make time with you

->he’s a busy man with being captain and everything so he always try to find ways to spend time with you

-reading with you

->would let you lay your head in his lap as he read the new book he had bought to you

-buys you different rings from stores he goes to

->he buys a ring for you in all the different places he goes so it would be like you went there with him

-has a keychain of your initials on his keys

->it’s a small way of him showing you that you have his heart

Maveric Lamoureux

-leans down to hear you

-> he’s a tall dude

->so he has to lean down to hear you which makes you blushy which he finds cute but he also thinks communication is important so to him leaning down to hear you is a way of showing he love you

-buys you new flowers every week

->always likes to get you fresh flowers. It’s a little thing he started when you both got serious and he’s continues to do it. It has now became a tradition

-rest his elbow on your head

->he does this to annoy you because he loves seeing the way your face goes and also a way of showing he is by your side

-translate different items or conversations

->if you are around him when he is talking to someone in French he would take his time to translate it all for you or if your in a all French grocery store he would translate the items for you

-leaves cute little sticky note affirmations on your stuffs

->leaves sticky notes everywhere so you know how beautiful and special you are

Mason Mctavish

-remembers the small things

->he reminds when you both first met and the place where you met. When he first asked you out.

-sitting with you in the mornings

-> his mornings are usually pretty busy but always tries to find time with you in the morning just to go over what you both are doing that day

-sleeps by the door

->always tries to make sure you are safe and makes sure you know that he will protect you and one the ways he shows you that is by sleeping near the door

-kisses you every time you walk by

->every time he sees you or goes near you he will kiss you on the lips with a big smile

-gives you space when you need it

->always can tell if something going on and you need space

Fraser Minten

-holding hands

->would kiss your knuckles one by one looking up at you with a soft smile before he starts driving

->while driving or walking around he’d subconsciously rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

-talking with you at late nights when you can’t sleep

->he’d always stay up with you talking random things or tell you how the game went if your still up and can’t sleep at night

->he’d tell you random stories or memories he had as a kid

-putting a blanket over when he finds you asleep

->he’d come back home from a late game to find you sleeping on the couch and would put a blanket over you

->anytime he finds you sleeping on the couch he’d put a blanket over you

-feeding you

->if you are sick or tired and had eating anything he’d sit there and feed you every last bite of what you have to eat as he doesn’t want you to get sick or sicker from not eating

-wears a chain around his neck that has your lucky number

->the number reminds him of you and the necklace has now became his lucky charm and it always reminds him he has you to come home to.

Juraj Slafkovsky

-patting your head

->if your shorter than him he likes to just pat you on the head when he sees you doing something like homework and cooking dinner instead of wrapping his arms around your waist

-washing your hair

->he enjoys washing your hair especially when he knows it relaxes you and gently scratches your scalp too.

-teaching you sovak

->He noticed how you were trying to learn it on your own so you could talk with him more so he started to teach you.

->he would say something in sovak and then make you point at what he meant

-sitting with you and telling you stories

->he tells you about his hometown and how he’d love for one day that he could bring you there

-late night ice cream

->once you both moved in together is when you both started to have a late night ice cream run definitely when he is home

Jeremy Swayman

-cleans with you

->if he ever comes home to you cleaning he would throw on some music and start helping you clean

-always has a hand or arm on you or around you

->he always keeps a arm around you to keep you safe when you both are in public and even when not in public always has his arms around you

-gives you hugs and kisses through out the day

->if he doesn’t get his morning kiss from you he’s a grumpy man

->always loves giving you Hugs and kisses

-gives you his full attention

->will sit there and listen to your day and just nods his head until you want him to speak

-always says thank you to you

->wether it be you cooking dinner or just telling you how much you appreciate him he always says thank you

Trevor Zegras

-has a nighttime routine with you

->whenever it’s a home game and he can come back to you you both have a routine you both do together.

->a shower together then skin care and then you both talk about eachother days together

-will pull you into his lap and tell you he loves you

->he would do it right in front of the boys and not afraid to show affection to you even when around the boys

-Surprise you With a Fun Activity he doesnt Normally Do

->would bring you to a movie theater out of nowhere or go to the park and plays on the playground with you like little kids

-always randomly squishing your face

->when you pout your face gets squish. when you just smile at him? Your face gets squished.

-has his favorite picture of you in his wallet

->the picture is from your guys first date and he keeps it on him to remind him how lucky he is to have you