#THE LOVE BEHIND SHARED CLOTHES >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[mlyscha]

↳ WHAT A MAN ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. the little sweet things they do. 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rooting fluff, domestic. 𝔀arnings. mentions of nude (not in a malicious way), not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: hey there! how are you guys doing? excited for enhypen's comeback? because i surely am! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )

― 𝓱eeseung: leftovers? it's his!

you know that boyfriend's who are the definition of a vacuum cleaner? heeseung is definitely one of them ― and it makes you fall even more in love. there's something about him finishing his meal first and waiting patiently for you to finish yours or giving/handing your leftovers to him. in the beginning of your relationship with heeseung, you were kind of taken back by his action, which made you ask him if he wasn't disgusted or something. however, this man looked straight into your eyes and replied: "no? babe, i kiss you every day, how could i be disgusted? i mean, how could i be disgusted of you?" ― how sweet... (╥﹏╥)

― 𝓳ongseong: bathe you when you're tired.

it's not a secret that jongseong is that type of domestic boyfriend or like the materialisation/personification of husband material. with that, usually, when you come back home tired, your boyfriend makes sure to let you rest. he makes you food, then chooses a comfy pyjamas for you before leading you to your shared bedroom. with that, he would slowly and sweetly take off your clothes and reassure you he could do the laundry. jongseong then proceeds to leads you to the bathtub ― already running a warm bath ―, pampering you with butterfly kisses onto your shoulders while both of you wait for the water to fill the bathtub. and then finally you get into the bathtub, enjoying the way his hands massage your shoulders, how his lips feel against your tense muscles and hearing his whispers: "i'm so proud of you, i love you, sweetheart..."

― 𝓳aeyun: calls you layla's mum.

ever since you and jaeyun were friends, he has already called you layla's mum a hundred times, but it never hit you that much back then until both of you started dating. i think it is because of the moments jaeyun usually calls you that, being mostly of the time when he wants to cuddle his two girls ― you and layla. if you're still not convinced that it could be one of the sweetest thing he does, imagine this scenario: both of you cuddling on bed and then your boyfriend suddenly hears small whimpers coming from layla behind the door. and then he gently places a kiss on your forehead and opens the door for her, petting her head while speaking with a baby voice with her as well. "come here, layla!" he pats an empty spot on your shared bed, inviting her. "come here cuddle with your mum! ey~ good girl! jaeyun would tease you saying ― while giggling ― something like: "you're so cute... like your mum," ― literally the sweetest thing ever!

― 𝓼unghoon: remembers every little thing you say.

remember when you said you like that drink? me neither, but sunghoon surely does. sunghoon is known for being one of the introverts, however, he is one of the sweetest that's for sure. in the beginning of your relationship, you remember going out for a date with him, and while walking on the street holding hands, he pulls out something from his pocket and hands you. it was a small pink box. "what is this?" "um... open it," opening the small box, a beautiful necklace was revealed. "what...?" "you know," he would start, avoiding looking at you while feeling coy. "remember when you said you wanted a new necklace because yours was getting old?" your boyfriend looks at you for a brief second, waiting for you nod. "so... i know you didn't ask for me to buy it but... i bought one for you." and that was one of the moments you knew you were loving and falling for the right person: and not because of the necklace, but because of his intention.

― 𝓼unoo: cares about you and your (mental) health.

sunoo loves sharing, he can't forget that sharing is caring. with that, since both of you were just friends he always made sure to share everything with you. skincare products, perfumes, feelings... and you have the most clear memory of him being worried about you while you were out and have ate nothing more than an apple. don't do this to him. sunoo always says to you ― when you complain about your looks ― that he doesn't care, he cares about you! not your looks. ― "look, baby, i understand you. i have my insecurities too and we can work them together; two is better than one, right? i love you, i care about you and i hope you know you can count on me always."

― 𝓳ungwon: kisses your hand daily.

as a way to show love throughout the day, jungwon prefers to give you small acts of love, such as like: forehead kisses, doing the laundry, making the bed and tidying the room up, etc. it's not like he doesn't kiss you, but he doesn't feel the need to make you feel loved only by that. however, he knows how important it is for you, so he usually rather to kiss your hand. like, imagine both of you just sitting on the dinner table having a meal together and suddenly ― while chatting ― he takes your hand and gently places a kiss on it because he felt like it. or, imagine you accidentally cut your finger: jungwon will get a band-aid and give you a little hand kiss, kissing your forehead as well, wishing you feel a bit better.

― 𝓻iki: always covers your legs.

riki is usually wearing his large jumpers/hoodies, and that is for three reasons: 1. because he feels cool; 2. because he feels cold; 3. because he wants to protect you. protect you from what? i mean, you can't really stop a bullet from hitting someone with a hoodie right? yeah, it's obvious, with that, he just wants to protect you from the cold, creeps; mainly when you wear short skirts and you have to sit down on an underground seat or just simply waiting for the bus to arrive. it's this little thing he does that makes you feel cared and loved, even though riki has this playful and sometimes nonchalant personality.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[grapejuicestyless]

Wishes Do Come True

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: It was just a legend, something out in place to make people believe in something that couldn’t be true. But when fate has its way, JJ learns that sometimes, wishes do come true. CONTAINS SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!!

Ryan shot the gun first. He shot it because Ward was charging at him, his teeth bared and his arms spread wide. How fitting that he would go out as a somewhat decent father, a man who took three bullets and threw himself over a cliff to save his daughter and her Pogue best friends.

JJ remembers the feeling of the earth bending beneath his feet as he practically sprinted over to the edge, looking down past his feet to see where the Kook and the henchman lay. JJ thought it was strange, how someone could be so crumpled up, he knew bones weren’t made to bend that way, so seeing the way his body twisted made him a little sick.

He can hear Sarahs soft cries and echoing hiccups clearly, how Kiara seemed to grab onto herself to steady her breathing. He remembers seeing how tightly John B’s arms were woven around Sarah’s body, as if he were afraid she would jump next, as if her body could save his. There was no saving that, as sick as it was.

But what he really remembers, is the softness of her voice calling out for him, the way her voice shook like it was hard to get out. Only then did the sounds of his friends stop ringing in his ears, and through some champagne party effect, he could focus in on just the quietness of her. Only then did he realize as he tried to wrap his arm around thin air that she wasn’t at the ledge.

A stray bullet, it’s a funny thing. The shots fire, four, the last four bullets the man has, and only three reach the sacrificial lamb. The last one reaches one of the seven targets behind it.

Her hands shook over her upper stomach, gripping her skin just below her ribs. Even with a shaky focus, he could see the tint of read beginning to seep past her once light blue nails, now chipped and digging into the cloth of her shirt.

“JJ, I…I don’t…” She stumbled forward, her eyes flickering from his to some distant thing over his shoulder. She could barely focus her vision. He remembers the weight of her head hitting his shoulder as he caught her, the feeling of an extra warmth seeping into his own clothes, something wet and sticky that shouldn’t be drenching the two of them, but was.

“No, no, no. Come on cupcake, come on.” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold her up, but his need to keep her up was wavering at the look of agony on her face. She laid in his lap, his hand holding hers as they both pressed down on the wound, though, it was no use because they had no way home, and the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. They had no idea where to even begin to search for one in the middle of all the greenery.

JJ rambled in a panic, a habit he’d always done, but she couldn’t make sense of it anymore. Her hearing was fuzzy and her vision came in and out in waves of darkness. She tried to look at her friends, but her eyes wouldn’t tear themselves away from her best friend’s face.

She had just gotten him, their love was still brand new, discovered on an island they were sure they would never find again. It was barely a month since they had shared a kiss under the stars, one both had been dreaming of for years. They went back and forth for what felt like centuries and now none of it mattered, because JJ was holding his love in his arms as she helplessly spat up blood and tried to focus on the blue of his eyes and not the tears on his face.

“It’s gonna be okay, you just gotta fight, you can fight. You fucking…” JJ broke out into a bitter laugh, one he didn’t mean as his palms messily wiped away the blood that trickled down her jaw. Red smeared everywhere, sticking to every crease in his skin. It burned, and so he kept smiling because his laughter, as disingenuous as it was, brought a weak smile to her face. “You saved my life, when I fell off that boat. You kept me alive, and I’m gonna keep you alive, so don’t give up on me.”

The sight of the tears finally spilling from her pretty eyes would forever haunt JJ, because he knew as her chest caved in against his lap, that the pain was too great to make her stay and suffer through, when they both knew she was as good as dead as soon as the gun was fired.

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.” She had told him weakly, the initial throbbing turning into an intense burning, a mix of the powder and the blood that pooled around her, soaking his skin through his pants.

“N-no, come on baby…baby, cupcake, please.” He pleaded. “I love you, please.”

Her ears seemed to clear at his heavy confession, and a sweet smile, the sweet smile he had fallen for back in the third grade, graced her pretty, tired face one last time.

“I love you JJ.” She promised, blinking back the tears. Somehow, she found the strength to lift his hand from her wound and press her bloodied lips to his sticky palm.

He had to watch the way her eyes fluttered shut, one last choked breath that sounded similar to what Pope would later explain as death rattle breathing, escaped her mouth, and that sweet little smile faded into nothing as she laid dead in her best friends arms.

JJ was never quite the same after that. He still loved his friends, he was still reckless and loud and impulsive, but he seemed to do it all for her.

When they won their money finally, he thought of all the things he would’ve bought for her, all the beaches they could’ve surfed across. When he finally found a place to call home, he placed her pillow on her side of his bed, fluffed it up for her and swore some nights he could feel her head resting on his heavy chest.

He thought of how much she would have loved Poguelandia 2.0. It was bittersweet to see the flag because all he could think of was their first kiss under the white flag that waved proudly above them.

He missed their matching P4L stick and pokes, he hated that he had to look at his forever and know it no longer matched with anyone. He hated that everyone else around him had someone to lean on, a lover to come home to, when he knew he would never be able to love again. But most importantly, he hated how young she was. She was only nineteen.

John B told him it wasn’t about the time we had with those we have lost, but what we make of it, but JJ was too angry to care. He didn’t care, it was easy for John B to say when he had lost a best friend, but JJ had lost so much more.

He wore her charm bracelet on his wrist, even though it was tight and caused a lot of noise. He loved the charms on them because they were old and made of clay and they matched his rings and necklace. She made them when they were ten because they were too young for their tattoos.

He swore to never go after treasure again, he couldn’t risk it, but with the promise of a singular wish, JJ followed along like a duckling to Morocco, blood on his shirt and a new father to betray him.

“You know, they say the crown grants a wish.” Kiara broke the silence between them in the heat one day, looking up at the sky to avoid the awkwardness of eye contact. She didn’t have to ask to know he would wish for her back in a heartbeat, but she did anyway because truthfully she liked the way JJ talked about her. It made her feel like her best friend was still alive.

“Yeah?” JJ scoffed with a smirk. “What would you wish for?” He asked, leaning over the unstable ledge, bricks dusty and the cement breaking apart. It wobbled under his forearms.

“I’m not saying I believe it but…I’d wish to go back in time maybe. I’d try not to rush into everything.” She said calmly, her eyes finding JJ’s.

“What about you?” She asked softly, and JJ hummed.

“The thing about wishes is, they don’t come true if you say them.” Kiara laughed breathily at his words.

“Yeah?” She questioned for confirmation.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “And I really want this one to come true.”

That phrase, “be careful what you wish for,” was made for people like JJ Maybank.

There’s this old game called “Monkeys Paw” that Y/n and JJ both loved when they were younger. One person would make a wish, and the goal of the game was to make that person regret that wish.

They would stay up for hours laughing about it.

If JJ wished for a pizza, the pizza was poisoned. If Y/n wanted a dog, it was rabid. They’d spend hours at a time waking up the neighbors just laughing at how outrageous they could make the faults.

Now that they were older, and now that Y/n was gone, JJ seemed to forget about the rules of the game.

He stumbled back, all air caught in his throat. He lost the crown, and he���d lost his girl, and now, here his biological father was with a knife twisted deep into his abdomen, pulling it out with a sickening crunch.

Kiara pleaded for him to keep fighting, her hands on the wound in a way that reminded him of the way he desperately pressed against Y/n’s all those weeks ago. Her cries were just as desperate, and they were just as fuzzy.

JJ now felt thankful he let her go peacefully, because living through the pain was insufferable, and he knew it would have been cruel to make her fight it any longer.

He cried a little, but he wasn’t sad. No, he was happy, even as Kiara screamed for Pope and John B, begging for help that would do no good because just like his precious Y/n, there was no way home and no help in sight.

He let out a hiccup, and his eyes focused on her brown ones as his vision cleared for a moment, the sting turning into a familiar burn.

“Kie, I never told you my wish.” He smiled, and she shook her head.

“No, Jayj, come on, you gotta fight it. I can’t lose you too.” She pleaded, and it was like he wasn’t even listening as he kept choking out words.

“I already got what I wished for.” He smiled.

All he ever wanted was a home, and though every sacred place he ever had to call that were short lived and destroyed, he had found it in the people who loved him, and the people he loved.

JJ wished for so much more than anyone thought, and he’d gotten all of it.

He had you at one point, and he was eternally grateful for every hug he ever received from your loving arms. He had Pope and John B, who made him laugh like no one else ever could, his ribs sore and his stomach shaking. Kiara and Sarah kept him grounded. He was grateful for how much they cared, how safe he felt around them. He knew he would miss his best friends more than anything else, he would miss them like family, because thats what they were.

The Pogues were his family, and his family was his home.

JJ wished for one last thing with the crown as the darkness took him. He slipped away from his body, his head lulling to the side as Kiara shook him, but he wasn’t there anymore, and he wasn’t afraid because there she was.

Kneeling beside Kiara and she didn’t even know, there she was, her sweet smile and her pretty eyes. She was holding both Kiara’s hand, and his hand, nothing more than wind to them on the ground, but now JJ could see her, and now he could hold her.

“Y/n? Cupcake?” He breathed out with a smile, the luckiest man in the world, even if his toes didn’t physically touch the dirt or the sand anymore.

“Jay…” She smiled back, a sweet sound falling past her lips, and it was simply half of his name.

As his arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried into her shoulder. It felt good to know that he would never have to let her go again, and that someday, his friends would have the same pleasure of holding him again too.

JJ’s wish had been a little greedy, because in addition to what he was already granted, he wished to be with Y/n again.

He guess he never really specified how but hey, wishes really do come true.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Longing Looks to Something More

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You and Tyler have been friends for a long time, but one day things begin to change.

Disclaimer: Steamy moments, swearing, fluffy moments, oblivious idiots in love, love confessions (kinda), lots of pining. Not Proof Read.

You heard his boots scuffing the barn floor before he pulled out a chair next to your desk. 

“Here.” Looking up, you found where he’d placed a fresh cup of tea beside you. “It’s too late for coffee, and Cathy said it’s good for sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep.” You lifted the mug. “But thank you.”

Tyler sat back in his chair, watching you as you went back to your work. You’d been sitting at that desk since four o’clock in the afternoon, and that hour was long gone. 

“When was the last time you got some decent shut eye?” Tyler asked, picking up a folder you’d finished looking at so he could make the conversation feel less like an interrogation. 

He smiled as he saw the small scribbled in the margins. 

“Before college properly.”

He shut the document. “I’m being serious, Y/n.”

“So am I,” you said, holding in a laugh. But then he gave you the look. 

Sighing, and relaxing your shoulders, you leaned to look at him. “I appreciate your concern, Ty, I really do. But I’m okay. I promise.”

He watched you for a moment before taking half of the scribbled notes from you and using the folder as something to lean on. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him. 

“Helping.”

“Tyler-”

He looked at you. “You need sleep and I’m not leaving until you do. And that won’t be until you finish. Twice the people, half the work.”

You would have fought him on it, but in truth, you’d spent so much time looking at the calculations and data you thought you were starting to think in them, instead of words. 

And he was right. 

Whatever work you’d been distracting yourself with was as wrapped up as it could be until you gathered some more data. And by the looks of it, the tea was working. You’d been giving into your yawns rather than trying to fight them off. 

Tyler had seen you do this for years. He was just glad they had Kate’s barn to work out of when chasing. You all finally had a home base now. 

“Right, come on.”

Tyler practically hauled you from your seat. 

“Bedtime.”

It was easier than previous nights to get you to move away from your work and head down to the farm house. There were three places to sleep on the farm. Inside the main house, which was where Kate stayed with Cathy and someone else would take the guest room. Then there was the guest house, with a couple different rooms which everybody had slept in at least once. Whoever fell asleep first, got the first pick of a room. Then there was the smaller guest house. It had one bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, a small sitting room and enough of a wooden stand in the back to be considered a porch. 

That was where you and Tyler would be tonight since you were the last to go to bed. 

“I brought your stuff down here earlier. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” you yawned. 

By the time you’d gotten dressed in your pyjamas, these days consisted of a random t-shirt which you were sure had belonged to one of the boys at some point, and cotton shorts. You joined Tyler in the bathroom, brushing your teeth whilst he washed his face. 

Turning off the bath tap, he wrung out the face cloth before throwing it over the towel rail to dry. 

“Come on.” 

Finally rinsing out your mouth, you heard the clink of your toothbrush in the cup and wiped your mouth. 

Tyler’s hand hovered by your hip as he led you out of the bathroom, turning the light off behind him, across the small living room and into the bedroom. 

By that point, Tyler had practically wrangled and tucked you into bed before laying down beside you. For years, you’d shared a bed. You’d both shared a bed at least three times with each member of the crew. There was always a motel somewhere that didn’t have enough space. 

So it didn’t freak you out to think you’d be sharing a bed with Tyler. 

By the time the lights cut out, it wasn’t long before you were fast asleep. 

When you woke up, you felt secure. Like you’d been wrapped in a weighted blanket. Only when you opened your eyes did you realise it was Tyler’s arms. With your back against his chest, his arms held you securely against him. He was fast asleep. His breathing even, soft snores coming from him as he held onto you for dear life. 

It took you a minute but you eventually pulled yourself from his arms and headed for the bathroom. By the time you’d finished, you could hear him walking around the place before you heard the pans being moved around. 

He was making breakfast. 

“Hey.” 

Tyler looked over his shoulder as he scrambled the eggs. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Good. Better than college.”

Tyler smiled. “Good. Eggs’ll be done soon.”

“Thanks. Want some coffee?”

Tyler nodded and you started brewing it from the pot, grabbing two mugs and setting them beside each other. 

After breakfast and coffee, Tyler headed for a shower and you got changed into some fresh clothes. You’d also found his inside one of the closets so, after pulling back the bed covers, you laid his clothes out at the foot of the bed. 

“Hey, Ty? I’m gonna head up to-”

You’d been focusing on tying the bottom of your shirt up as you walked the short distance out of the bedroom and past the sofa, ready to call through the door to him. However, without looking up, you ran into something. 

At first, you figured it was the door, but when the door suddenly grew arms, steadied you and spoke, you realised what had actually happened. 

Stood, his waist wrapped in a towel, his hair still dripping a little from the water, Tyler had opened the door. 

And there you stood, suddenly dumbfounded, in his arms, unsure of what to do. 

“Uhh, sorry. I-I didn’t.” Your mind seemed to take a mental picture of the Tyler that stood in front of you in that moment, and for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why. 

“You okay?”

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and out of his grasp. “Yea-yep. Yes. All good. I was just gonna…”

You forced yourself to look at his face before he thought you were checking him out. 

“I was gonna head up to the barn. I’ve, uhh, I’ve left your stuff in..in the bedroom.”

You started to make a break for it towards the front door and Tyler remained in his position, watching you. 

“Sure you’re okay?”

You nodded firmly. “Just peachy.”

Tyler couldn’t help but smile a little as he watched you leave after getting so flustered. But, shaking his head, he turned back towards the bedroom. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, but something inside of him was glad it did. 

The rest of the day, you tried to keep your mind focused on your tasks rather than constantly replaying what had happened that morning. Tyler. His arms. His grip. His body. His eyes. His voice. Him. 

None of that was helped when you saw him walking up the small hill towards the barn, his wranglers being filled in all the right places. 

“Stop it.” You told yourself over and over and over again. Even more so when he leaned over you from behind your chair, asking about the data collection. How was it that a man could still smell so good hours after taking a shower? Immediately, your mind projected the towel-wrapped image of him from that morning. 

“Stop it.”

Tyler hummed a response, not having heard you. 

“Nothing,” you brushed it off. And he just shrugged. 

However, you weren’t the only one confused by your sudden replay of the morning going over in your head. 

“Stare at her any longer and somebody might think you’re in love.” 

Tyler turned and looked back at Dexter. “What are you talking about?”

Dexter smiled. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her. If you’re not looking around this barn for her, you’re looking at her.”

“No, I’m not.” Tyler tried to laugh it off. But then he found himself looking back at you. Your reaction to him coming out of the shower kept playing on his mind. As did the feeling of you being in his arms this morning before he woke up again. 

Standing and leaning behind you as you sat at your desk allowed for your shampoo to fill his senses. And it took him right back to being in bed with you after ushering you to bed. He’d woken up just a little before the sun had come up. His arms were already around you, but he wouldn’t have moved in fear of waking you considering you were holding his arms to you. 

Calming himself down, your shampoo filled his senses and imprinted the feeling and image of you in his mind. So, when he stood with you, that feeling came right back. 

He must have fallen back to sleep, too, because when he woke up, he heard the sink running in the bathroom. 

“Dex, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. So long as it’s not how to read Y/n’s handwriting. What does this even say?”

Leaning over him, Tyler read it. “Continued on page five.”

Dexter nodded, a little shocked. “What’s your question?”

“When…” He looked back at you for a moment before tearing his gaze away. “When do you know something is changing?”

“Is this about you and Y/n? Because I have to say, I think you might be the last to know.”

“What?”

Dexter started listing things off. “The way you look at her? The way she looks at you? The fact you’re the only one she’ll listen to, or you’re the only one who can read her handwriting?”

Tyler shrugged. “You get used to it after a while. But, I…”

“Did something happen?”

Tyler shook his head. “Technically, no.”

“But you wish it had?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I did or not. We’re friends. We’ve only ever been friends. Why would things start changing now?”

“Maybe now is the time.” Dexter said. “It’s like you say, a tornado is part science, part religion. Some things, or at least part of them, can’t always be explained. You and Y/n have a deep connection. You’re friends. Maybe now it’s time to explore things further.”

Taking one final look over at you, Tyler didn’t know what to do. 

“Maybe.”

Tyler wrestled with the idea for a week or more. You’d both been friends for a long time. And, sure. Maybe he’d checked you out once or twice over the years. He wasn’t blind. You were beautiful. Why you were still single baffled him. And, yeah, maybe he’d felt a little jealous when someone from a bar would ask you to dance with them. But that didn’t mean he was catching feelings, did it?

Except, the longer time went on, the more he could feel them becoming more noticeable. He kept catching himself looking at you throughout the day, His heart and stomach kept doing a weird ‘hop, skip and jump’ thing every time he saw you. Except, it had started to be whenever he even thought about you. Whenever he saw you in one of the guy’s t-shirts that wasn’t his, he felt a pang in his chest, but when he saw you in his…he had to leave the room for fear of the extent of his emotions showing up in front of everyone. 

And just when he thought he was getting better at hiding his feelings, Boone asked him a question. 

“When are you gonna ask her out, dude?”

Tyler, who had been on the roof of his truck since you got back from another tornado chase, stopped what he was doing and looked down at Boone. 

“What?”

Pausing where he was in the book you had given him only a few hours ago to keep him occupied, Boone looked at Tyler. “You’ve been watching her all day.”

Tyler looked back at his work, rather than back at you. You were a short way across the farm, helping haul some bags of feed from the truck and into the barn. 

“No, I haven’t.”

Boone just laughed. “Come on, man. We all see it. Hell, I’ve seen it since you first met her. D’you know you get this funny look on your face when you look at her? Had it then, have it now. Just louder.”

Tyler just shook his head and mumbled; “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This time, Boone stood up. “You’re my brother, Tyler. So I’m gonna tell you straight. You’re in love with, Y/n. So rather than sitting here, thinking about her. Go over there and do something about it. Or else Me and Lily are gonna have to start watching Parent Trap to take some more notes.”

Tyler looked back at Boone. “More notes?”

Boone cleared his throat and shook his head, scuffing his feet on the ground. If Tyler or you knew the lengths they’d gone through to get either one of you this far…

“Dude, just ask her out.” 

As he went and sat back down, he watched Tyler look back down the field towards you. Except, that was interrupted by Dani and Dexter heading up the road. 

It was from their announcement that everyone found themselves getting dressed up to head to the local bar for a night of country dancing. 

However, that caused one problem. 

Tyler. 

Smelling just as he did a few weeks ago when you ran into his freshly showered, towel-wrapped body. 

Filling out his jeans in all the right places. 

With a crisp white t-shirt. 

And you caught him from the moment he’d taken his backwards cap off his head, throwing it onto his dash and pulling his cowboy hat out, fixing it onto his head. 

And the way he was looking at you as you walked down the steps of the house, dressed in your only pair of denim shorts that didn’t need washing, a t-shirt you’d borrowed from Kate since the one you planned on wearing still had motor oil on from when you were helping Dani with the camper, and an oversized checked shirt, along with your cowboy boots; it was giving you more ideas than you needed in your head when it came to Tyler. 

 “Ready to go?”

Tyler had to look away from you, letting his gaze land on his feet as he nodded and opened up his passenger door for you. “Yep.”

For a moment, you could have sworn he looked nervous. But considering you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him any longer than a second and a half in fear he’d see exactly what you were thinking when you looked at him, you couldn’t be sure. 

And when he grabbed your hand half way through the night to bring you onto the dance floor, holding you close to him as you both two-stepped across the old wooden floor, those feelings that had been bubbling inside you for weeks; you could feel them pouring over whatever container you tried to shove them into. 

The feeling of his hand on your lower back, the feeling of his hand in yours, the feeling you got when he looked at you, and the way his voice sounded, so close to your ear. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” 

“It’s kinda personal.”

You were confused. “Okay?”

Now he just had to find the last shreds of courage to ask you. “Is something…has something…between you and me…is there…”

Each time he said a word, your head rushed around the million different things he was trying to ask you. 

“Just spit it out, Tyler.”

“Do you like me?”

No. I love you. 

“How’d you mean?” You asked. 

Tyler had a few seconds to think how to phrase his question as he spun you out before pulling you back. 

“Like, more than usual.”

Now he was starting to confuse himself. “I just…am I imagining things here, or is something…different? Between us, I mean.”

It was your chance to think. Had he been feeling it too? The way the room felt a lot more claustrophobic, in the good way, when it was just you two? Did he feel your touch as strongly in his bones as you did? Did he…did he love you the same way you did for him?

“It’s just…I feel like I woke up one morning and…I don’t know. You’re the person I’d talk to about this kinda stuff, so…I just thought I’d ask you about this, too. Is there…Is there something changing between us?”

The song slowed and you were completely against Tyler, standing in his space as he stood in yours. Looking up at him and meeting his green eyes, you told him the truth. 

“I think it already has.”

From the table in the corner, the others watched you and Tyler slow down and just simply look at each other. 

“Think he finally told her?” Lily asked, turning to the other hoping they saw what she did. 

“I think she told him.” Dani said, grabbing a handful of chips. 

“I think they’ve just told each other.”

Everyone looked at Dexter before turning to look back at you and Tyler on the dancefloor. 

You watched as Tyler registered everything you said and after an eternity, he looked up and around the room. You didn’t know what or who he was looking for, but after another moment, he grabbed your hand. 

“Come with me.”

You led you towards the back of the bar and out of the doors, the cold air hitting both of you all at once. The sound of the music and people drowned out as the door swung shut behind you both. 

“Ty, where are we-”

Swinging you around, you felt Tyler stop you in your tracks before he looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

From day one of meeting Tyler, you knew you could trust him. And you knew you always would. 

Brushing the hair from your face, he seemed to finally breathe. And you slowly leaned into his touch. “Y/n…”

He swallowed nervously before asking the question that had been on his mind since the first time he’d woken up with you in his arms. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Drawing his eyes from your lips, he looked into yours. You knew if you said no, he would walk away. He wouldn’t question you, he wouldn’t push. 

But you wanted him to. 

“Yes.”

“Are you su-”

You cut him off, standing a little higher on your toes, you took his face into your hands and pulled him in to kiss you. His hands held you steady at your hips before snaking around your body and holding you flush against him whilst your own arms did the same around his neck. 

Parting for a breath, Tyler’s hands were quick to lift you up and you locked your ankles around his hips before your back was up against the cold brick wall. 

A small moan left your lips which forced Tyler to pull his lips from yours for a moment. 

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Cowboy.”

Tyler smirked with a small chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

One hand holding you under your ass and another pushing through your hair, Tyler kissed you as if your life depended on it. 

You died with his kiss, and he brought you back with the next. God, you never wanted it to end. 

However, it was forced when you both heard the back door to the bar swing open and crash against the wall before a pair of drunk laughs getting closer. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t anyone on the team. Otherwise you and Tyler would have been caught in a very compromising position considering you could feel all of Tyler against your body at that moment. 

Looking back at you with a half drunk smile, which you were sure you owned the other half to, Tyler kissed you quickly once more. Before giving you another, and another and another as you slowly unhooked your legs from him and he lowered you to the ground. 

“We better get back inside.”

You smiled. “I think the others already have an idea on what we’re doing out here.”

“Still. If we’re gonna go any further, I’d rather make love to you someplace that isn’t behind the back of a bar.”

You blushed. “Make love?”

Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, Tyler leaned down and kissed the shell. 

“Would you prefer for me to fuck you? Because I can do that, too, Sweetheart.”

Tyler watched as your cheeks heated. He didn’t have to look at you to know what you were thinking about. Because he was thinking about it, too. 

“Come on. We better get inside.”

Pressing a final kiss to your lips, Tyler took your hand and led you back into the bar. You were pretty sure after his question, your brain had been completely fried with thoughts of Tyler fucking you. 

Not helped by the fact that when he walked you back inside, he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands on your waist. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want one?”

You still couldn’t speak so just nodded. 

Tyler smiled a little and kissed your temple. “You keep thinking about my question, Sweetheart.”

You felt his hand tap your ass lightly before he walked away and towards the bar and you were left to walk back to where the team had been sitting in the corner. Thankfully, most of them apart from Dexter were up dancing. 

“You two finally talk?”

You felt yourself blush. You were glad most of the lights were directed onto the dancefloor or behind the bar. “A little more than that.”

Dexter smiled before taking a sip of his drink and handing you a small sketch. 

“Dexter, you’re the only person I know that brings a pad and pencil to a bar.”

He smiled. “Never know when inspiration will strike. Plus, I think you’ll like this one.”

From his pad, he pulled a small piece of card, no bigger than a beer coaster. In the middle stood the outline of two people. 

You and Tyler. 

Just moments ago, when you were standing on the dancefloor together. 

“Dex…”

He smiled. “You keep it. I’m gonna go to the gents.”

Standing up, Dexter walked away just as Tyler reached the table and handed you your drink before sitting beside you with his arm over your shoulders. 

“Look at this.”

“It's us.”

You smiled as you watched Tyler take hold of it and examine it for a moment. You could hear the cogs turning in his head but you weren’t sure why. But then he removed his hat and fixed the picture in place on the inner band. 

He fixed the hat back onto his head. “Well?”

You smiled. “You look handsome.”

Tyler smiled before leaning in to kiss you, and as he pressed his lips to yours, you both heard the hollering and whistles being blown by the rest of your team on the dancefloor. 

You felt yourself blush and chuckle, Tyler doing the same except as you hid your head for a moment on his shoulder, he waved his hands at the other to get them to stop. 

Looking back to you with a rested smile on his face, he leaned down and kissed you once more. 

“Ready to go home?”

You nodded and went to stand. 

“The offer still stands, Sweetheart.”

This time, as he remained seated, you turned back and pressed your knee into your chair, leaning over him as he looked up at you. 

“I want both,” you told him. Then you leaned in closer. “But if you’re gonna fuck me, you better fuck me like you mean it.”

It was his turn to blush, but you didn’t get away with not for long because Tyler’s hand came to your hip holding you steady when you kissed him. 

“Think you can take me, darlin’. Might need to get you ready first.”

You felt yourself smirk. “After those words and everything that happened outside, I’m already halfway there.”

Considering another tray of drinks made their way to the table in Dexter’s hands, Tyler told Tyler the others wouldn’t be leaving for a good while.

Tyler pressed one last kiss to your lips before he stood and took your hand in his, leading you back through the bar and towards his truck. 

“We’ll have to see about that.”

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Bed Snatchers

Simon had texted you that he had gotten home from Mexico about midnight. When you finished your night at the café you were careful to enter the flat quietly. You might still wake him with how jumpy he could be after jobs. Wincing as you lock the front door you remove your shoes as softly as you can, setting them on the floor instead of letting them flop like you normally would. Turning on the flashlight of your phone you dim it as much as you can and still cover it with your fingers to not disturb anyone that might have slid home with him.

More and more often the guys would come home with Simon. You were about to suggest everyone going in on a house rental together because at least then you were always guaranteed to have somewhere to lay down after work. Glancing into the living room you see a lump of a body on the couch. Stepping lightly into the room you think it’s John. A raucous snore rips through the room. Yep. That’s John.

Letting a pip of light peak through your fingers you see he has not blanket on. Once that problem is resolved you head toward your room. The door is cracked. Must be more than John who came home with Simon then.

Pushing the door open you see two bodies sprawled across your bed. Letting a tad more light shine from your phone you squint and see Kyle and Gary almost fighting for space on your bed. You let the smile that forces its way to your lips stay. Leaving the men to their sleeping battle you grab a set of pajamas and head into the hall bathroom.

Leaving the lights off, your phone light reflects off the bowl of the sink as you change. Dropping your clothes into your basket in the bathroom you move to knock on Simon’s door. Tapping lightly you wait. He would wake.

Less than twenty seconds later the door pops open, and Simon blinks in the dim light.

“The couch and my bed are both taken, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Johnny is here, but there is room.”

Rubbing your eyes you follow Simon and turn off your flashlight. Simon puts a hand on your elbow, leading you into the bed before him. Pulling up the blankets you slide in until you run into Johnny, then back up slightly.

The touch must have woken him. Johnny reaches out and pulls you close.

“Ah, bonnie, no Simon.”

He is not wearing a shirt. You had never seen Johnny shirtless, but he felt warm and lightly covered with hair.

Simon climbs in behind you, settling an arm across both of you. Something about that tickled something in your brain but sleep already lulled you with her melodies.

When you woke it was because you were too warm.

Tucked tight to Simon’s chest you watch his hand drift across Johnny’s still-sleeping face.

“When did that happen?” You whisper, careful not to wake your sleeping friend. 

“This last mission. Mexico was…hard.”

“I’m happy for you.”

You really are, even if part of you yearns for every one of these crazy men to be yours always. That would be entirely too selfish. You were lucky to have them as you did, sharing kisses for luck and driving business to your shop. Selfish wasn’t a thing you could ever allow yourself to be. You didn’t dare ask for anything from them.

You had learned in your early twenties that you were asexual, much to the frustration of every partner you had. After a while you had stopped looking for any kind of romantic love, it was too twined up in sex for so many people that staying single was easier.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks. When are you going to end up happy?”

The question stabbed you between the ribs.

“Who says I’m not?”

“You don’t have a partner, don’t most people want that?”

“Most people aren’t okay that I only want sex when I’m ovulating so, no I guess I don’t want that,” your voice rose a bit.

Johnny’s eyes slid open, taking in you tucked into Simon’s arms. The softest smile you had ever seen on the man warmed your heart to the point of pain.

“Morning lass, how did you end up here?”

His voice, morning-deep, taking some extra work to decipher.

“Kyle and Gary were sleep fighting in my bed. Simon at least has a king-sized mattress.”

“What time did you get in?” He blinked at you as if fighting waking.

“Three.”

He reached out and pulled you across the bed; Simon’s hands drifted with you.

“Simon is an earlier riser, stay here and sleep with me.”

Settling against Johnny was different than with Simon. Johnny didn’t seem to mind the full body contact, twining of limbs, or manhandling you until you sat just right in his arms. Snug against him, in the darkness of the blinds, you slid back to sleep, but not before feeling the bed dip as Simon placed a kiss against your temple and Johnny’s lips. He left the room quiet as a mouse.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[biteyoubiteme]

Happy 1k!!!!

Now beautiful, I'd like a Vampire!TXT thoughts/hc and of course some biting i know you like that and make it suggestive

me to you tonight

vampire!txt headcanons

warnings:🔞!!! fem!reader, mentions of blood, biting, oral (f!rec) prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.0k total

an: ily mae thank you, you're making me blush, if anyone was going to bite me I would ask you first. I hope you like this! also your yeonjun posts about him being a phlebotomist (and my babysitter's a vampire) influenced taehyuns part <333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

yeonjun .ᐟ

very into keeping his hands on you because of your warmth, loves to feel how your flush travels along your body when he traces patterns on you. Feeling you blush is even better when you're making out. Loves to feel the heat in your cheeks while he cups them, peppering kisses anywhere he feels the blush has spread. Will bite your ass just to leave a mark. Loves to bite your thighs. Loves when he lays his head in your lap and you play with his hair. Easy for him to just twist around and nip at your flesh, will kiss over the marks he makes to get the blood on his lips. Kisses exchanged so you can taste yourself. Loves to eat you out with the taste of your blood in his mouth. His two favorite flavors mixing drives him insane. Let’s his fangs brush over your clit just to see you jump. Could spend hours going between feeding on your blood and your wetness. 

soobin .ᐟ

an obsessive biter without even realizing it. So confused to see teeth marks all over you like he wasn't the one doing it. Loves to bite over your heart, teeth sinking right into your breast. Dragging his teeth over your sides and along your ribcage before nipping at your sensitive nipples. Loves to get you low cut tops so that he can see all the little healing marks he's left on your cleavage. Loves to overfeed, your reaction is so similar to overstimulation that it gets him going just as much. He will take the best care of you as you recover from long nights where he couldn't contain himself. Spendslots of time cuddling, fingers tracing over every puncture mark he's made with his fangs, connecting the dots like constellations. Will ask to feed whenever and wherever unashamed about his need to taste you at all times. Will bury his face into the crook of your neck and huff if you say no. But you give in soon enough after all his soft kisses over your pulse.

beomgyu .ᐟ

has the best sense of sound and smell. Loves to tease you about hearing your heartbeat, can tell it’s you from a mile away just from the sound alone. He constantly jumps out from behind corners just to sense the way your blood pressure jumps, even better when he can tell just by walking in a room that he affects you. “Aww, do you think I'm pretty?” and even as you try to deny it he can hear the rhythm of your heart giving away your lies. Loves to be a lie detector, asking you questions he knows you would never really answer honestly in the beginning but why even hide now? He wants to know everything about you. Now you just purposefully lie because you know he can tell the difference. Can tell as soon as a single horny thought enters your head. You're his favorite smell in the world. Will buy a hoodie for the two of you to share, passing it from you to him just so he can keep your scent close to him at all times. Is a lip-biter when you make out just so that he can have your blood in the mix, keeps all your dirty clothes, and regularly masturbates with them pressed to his nose without shame. 

taehyun .ᐟ

is very picky about who he feeds from and it has everything to do with taste and smell, believing he won't ever find the perfect person. He works at a blood bank as a phlebotomist, never tempted to drink anything he draws because of his self-control and distaste. That is until he gets you in his chair. Absolutely overwhelmed by the sensation of hunger for what felt like the first time in his life. He's never had shaking hands when trying to insert a needle before but as soon as he leans in he can't do his job calling someone else to take over. Claiming he couldn't find a vein when he was known for never missing one. He watched the way his coworker discarded the gauze that had wiped away the dots of blood from your elbow ditch, making sure to note exactly where they had thrown them away. He wasn't even ashamed to have pulled them out when no one was looking, taking them into the bathroom because he couldn't wait to get home. Pressing the fabric to his nose as he shoved his free hand down his pants, not caring about being at work when he finally found exactlywhat he had been waiting for.  

Taehyun also gives me a vampire x vampire vibe so much. Worships his vampire mate because it is what he was made to do. 

kai .ᐟ

likes to hold hands because he can feel your pulse between your fingers. Always kisses your wrist, likes to keep it on his lips just to feel the warmth. Will ask you if he can just keep holding your wrist up through movies and cuddling. He asks so often that you're already ready, laying down letting him rest his head on one arm while the other is pressed right under his nose. Never bites you; actively avoids the topic like the plague, is tempted but never indulges, won't even ask.It's why when he finally does bite you both of you are so shocked, unable to think about exactly what's happening. Bites in a moment of passion, his moan against your neck making his teeth scratch along your smooth skin, biting down without being able to resist any longer. Both of you have the best orgasms of your lives. He's so apologetic, kissing over the mark he left, begging you to forgive him and yet it turns into desperate pleas for him to do it again and again. “I'm so sorry i- I didn't mean to, I just- you just- please, please, I need to taste you again, I'm sorry-” looks at you like you set the moon in the sky when you say he can. Hazy puppy dog eyes on you, soft grin on his lips when he's gotten his fill, strictly only biting you during sex, leaving the both of you sated and happy after. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[auclairedetoru]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to see if you could write something fluffy with Levi and a reader that’s shorter than him 🥺

Maybe something where he’s doting on them? I adore the idea of a cold Levi who’s soft for his partner and I’m part of the minority of people who is actually shorter than him lol. I see a lot of fics describing the reader as taller but not enough for the other shorties out here 🙂‍↕️

Finally. The end of the day.

Levi lets out a loud sigh as the door of his bedroom closes behind him. His head leans against it and his eyes close. After hours of training, meetings, monitoring, and doing a shit ton of paperwork, he's finally back to the comfort of his bedroom at exactly midnight.

He lifts his head back up and looks around the small space, an unfamiliar (to others at least) smile spreads on his face when his eyes land on the sleepy yet smiling person sitting on his bed.

“Welcome back home, Levi.”

God, their sweet voice makes him melt into a puddle every time. He can't believe he gets to call such a precious person his partner, he considers himself a very lucky man.

“I'm sorry I woke you up, my love.” he says gently as he takes off his jacket. They shake their head and watch him as he tries his best to take off the belts wrapped around his body as fast as possible, “it's okay, darling. I wasn't sleeping, you know I can't without you.”

Levi cups their face after he is done and leans down to press a soft kiss to their forehead. People would lose their mind if they saw the way he acts and talks to them, in fact, only the people he's closest to in the survey corps (which is very few) know about their relationship, it wouldn't even cross people's minds that the strong and stoic captain who doesn't care if he hurts anyone's feelings is dating the sweet and gentle nurse who once cried with a soldier while trying to stitch him up.

“Did you have a good day today? Any of those brats bothered you?” he caresses their soft cheeks with the pad of his thumbs, mesmerized by the way the light casts a warm glow on their face. They lean into his touch, their eyes closing in relaxation. “everything was okay. Jean and Eren even teamed up to help me carry the new supplies stock and put them on the high shelves for me.”

He chuckles softly and pulls away from them so he can quickly change into more comfortable clothes. He used to sleep in his uniform, belts and all, just in case something happens and he couldn't waste his time putting everything back on, most of the nights he didn't sleep to begin with, but ever since they started sharing the same bed, not only did he find himself falling asleep but he also invested in some soft night clothes so he can cuddle with them without any restrictions.

“Still refusing to use the stool I got you?” he smirks as he starts changing his clothes. They've been dating long enough for them to not care about being naked in front of the other.

“I don't need it! The boxes were just heavy!”

“Hmm, sure you don't,” he teases as he gets under the blanket on his side of the bed (which is obviously the one on the near the bedroom door) and pats his lap with two hands. They huff, followed by a small, almost inaudible "I'm not that short", yet they don't hesitate to straddle his thighs and nuzzle their face in his warm chest. He wraps his arms around their body and presses a kiss on top of their head.

“if you weren't so short you wouldn't be able to fit in my arms all snuggly,” he looks down at their face and smiles at the adorable sight of their cheek pressed firmly on his chest, probably so they're able to hear his heart beat, they told him before that it's their favourite sound, “look at you, you could fit in my pocket, I could take you everywhere with me.”

They look up at him with the sweetest look on their face, their pretty eyes soft and affectionate. He wishes he could freeze this moment and stay like this forever, no titans, no fighting, no heartbreak, just him relaxing with his beloved in his arms.

“Can I stay in your heart instead? I think I'll like it there more.”

Levi lets out a shaky sigh. He's not one to get emotional, he can't even remember the last time he cried because it's been so long, but at that moment he feels a tug at his heart strings and a lump form in his throat. He never thought he'd ever have someone who loves him unconditionally, who would stay up till the late hours waiting for him because they want him to be the last thing they see before they close their eyes, whose presence felt the closest to what he heard others describe as home, who looked past the walls he has up and saw someone worth all their patience.

“You know I can't have you stay anywhere else. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life.”

“More than tea?” they teasingly raise an eyebrow making him chuckle.

"Yes, my love. More than tea," he replies, gently brushing a strand of hair away from their eyes.

“More than cleaning?”

"now I don't know about that...”

“hey!”

Levi laughs loudly, a deep and hearty sound he never imagined would come from him before he met them. Their melodic giggles join his, filling the air with a positive energy he only experiences around them. At that moment, he feels his heart fill with a great amount of happiness, a feeling he always thought he didn't need, but now can never live without, and it makes him realise that he is now complete.

In the past, he thought that when he'd feel complete he would let go of everything, even life itself. But now, the thought of being separated from the love of his life terrifies him, and for the first time, he wants nothing more than to continue living and breathing, even if it means fighting those ugly monsters every single day.

Is life easy right now? No, Eren Jeager is still a big pain in his ass, and the whole situation with the titans keeps getting worse and worse, but now he gets to come home to moments like these, and they simply make everything better.

I lost the plot and didn't make this very focused on short!reader but it's there nonetheless! I love soft Levi who's a totally different person around his love 💕

[ronearoundblindly]

a kiss out of envy + ari 🤭

As promised, love, I give you...

frat boy!Ari Levinson x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024 (yes, you read that correctly, and no, I don't want to talk about it. 🥲 It's been a rough year lol.)

Summary: You and Ari want each other for all the wrong reasons.

Warnings (regarding both parts of the story) for drinking and partying, language, shitty behavior from...yeah everyone is a bit of a mess in this ngl (it's college), vaguely taboo mutual pining, and not-really cheating/implied cheating (applies to multiple people). This is an angsty weird fluffy sorta romance with an ambiguous ending because no one can communicate to save their f**king lives...BUT HEY! KISSES. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for younger readers on my Light Masterlist, but not here! WC 3.9k

A/N: This is the first half from Reader's perspective.

College is…predictable.

You spent the first weeks of your freshman year faking self-assurance you didn’t actually feel because confidence is sexy—or whatever the saying is,—and if you had to start from scratch, you might as well start from a place you’re proud of.

You made friends. You went out with your roommate. You stayed out late with lots of people you don’t know, and you smiled. Holy shit, did you smile…

The attempt to ‘get out there’ brought constant stress; you wanted to define your social life right off the bat, but good people are hard to find.

You officially decided you were looking in the wrong place for any good people while at the Lawn Party three-quarters of the way through your first semester.

Finally, you’d tried. You pulled out all the stops. You wore the nicer, trendier clothes that you splurged on for events just like this. You put on extra makeup, brought some with you in your little purse to touch it up, and when you smiled in the mirror seconds before running out of the dorm with your roomie, you really were self-assured. You felt sexy.

Though the party was outdoors, you stuck with just the one layer of a light-colored, flowy top, something whimsical and fun, something less useful and more useless, but that’s the idea of fashion, you suppose.

When the breeze caught the fabric, you imagined you were in a movie, one of those scenes where the heroine is about to get noticed by the man of her dreams.

That is exactly the opposite of what happened.

You’d been there all of half an hour, your roommate off to get drinks (after you whined and waited and stalled, hoping to strike up some conversation without partaking in the shared, bad decisions of the swath of 18-22 year olds meandering across a grass field behind the sports complex), when you heard a really loud, shrill laugh behind you and turned.

A red Solo cup crumpled against your boob and beer exploded across your chest, drenching your shirt and dripping grossly down your stomach.

“Wooooah,” the big guy still gripping shredded plastic drawled, eyes glued to your see-through blouse as it clung to your front. “Sorry.”

The girl who laughed with him put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh. My god.” Yet she just laughed more.

That was it. That was the sum total acknowledgment of your destroyed outfit and evaporated dignity.

“Ari,” someone called, startling your assailant to look away with his unresponsive, blown pupils.

You noticed a few drops of beer on his letterman jacket, so, sure, in comparison to your entire front half being soaked, that seemed a fair-and-equal trade for your embarrassment.

Then he was gone, the laughing girl following the asshole, Ari, and his idiot friends as they recapped the football game from…whenever.

You left the party once the waistband of your jeans felt soggy.

You spent longer washing your beer-sponge bra in the dorm sink than you did on the lawn.

Now you know college is a fucking joke. That party became a defining moment in your social life. You realized men—no, boys—like Ari will never care about you as you really are, and finally, you’ve accepted that you don’t want them to.

They don’t deserve to know you.

Sophomore year. Women’s Studies. Of all the fucking classes…

On day one Ari plopped down in the desk next to you.

He plopped because his whole left leg was strapped into a thick brace that kept it straight and jutted out, unable to fit in the tiny seat. He’s so tall his thonged foot tapped at yours beneath your own chair.

In your utter frustration and irritation (since the professor had already started talking), you automatically muttered an apology—to Ari, like some pushover—and moved your legs.

“Not your fault,” the footballer softly chuckled, taking another long moment to settle his crutches on the floor.

Were there no other seats?

You sighed and knew, you just knew down in your bones, that this would be a long damn semester. You also had every faith, however, that this fuck-boy classmate would do just about anything to stay in the course dedicated to his favorite pastime: women.

Though that was an assumption, Ari proved you right, and it sucked.

It took all your innate kindness and compassion not to spit on him. Honestly, the guy is just…dumb. When your eyes wandered every so often, you always found him looking confused, but he wouldn’t ask questions. Several times you caught him sneaking peeks at your notes. You just couldn’t take it.

He fell asleep in one class!

With the course final mere weeks away, the OCD part of your brain kicked in and shoved several sheets of important points you’d written down into his lap before he fully woke up.

His brace was off by then, but Ari still moved slowly.

Again, he looked so confused.

“I expect them back on Wednesday,” you said with a tight jaw, barely restraining the choice names you’d wanted to call him.

You’d been conditioned so heavily to be nice that you smiled at him. A small smile, yeah, but you smiled at the coddled asshole who did not deserve to pass the class. You should have let him fail. You should have let him lean harder on that damn scholarship.

Football held his dead-weight up this long; what’s a few more years?

Nearly the end of your Senior year. Off-campus. You’ve tried.

Socializing is a hit-and-miss game, and you’re learning that sometimes the miss happens slowly, without failed plays, with all the effort you could muster.

“Look, if we’re not doing anything here, then I’m going to the party. You coming? The house is two blocks away.”

Your boyfriend, Billy, stands with his apartment door open and his roommates calling to him from down the hall. He’s frustrated, you know that, but his frustration doesn’t negate the uneasy twist in your gut you get whenever he tries to take things further than making out.

Billy is perfect on paper. He studies hard, has a job already lined up for summer, is driven to achieve…and desperately wants to get laid.

He’s cute, totally adequate in that department, yet still, you can’t force yourself to let him touch you any more than absolutely necessary. You two have excellent conversations, multiple shared interests, and you have no words to describe your lack of…want. It eats you up right along with that twisting aversion to fuck him—because it is specific to him.

You don’t lack for interest in men, even if these are still boys around you. You’re attracted. Kinda. You thought attraction could grow from affection, too, but it hasn’t in months with Billy. It doesn’t make you think he lacks in some way; you feel lacking.

Maybe you lack sympathy. Maybe you lack understanding. Maybe you are just as superficial as those slutty girls you hate, the ones sure to be at this party. Maybe Billy thinks those girls will rub off on you if you’re surrounded.

There’s no one thing, no quantifiable logic; he just doesn’t do it for you. That won’t change.

Your relationship has an expiration date, and you feel it approaching.

Unsurprisingly, you can’t bring yourself to be mean and tell him an outright ‘no.’ It’s rude to say ‘I’m not attracted to you,’ right? You’re a nice person, and it’s not nice to hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.

The heavy pain in your belly grows dense, but still, nothing changes.

The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to touch you, but it doesn’t matter. He walks a few feet ahead to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.

The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver past the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.

Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.

Asshole.

He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.

“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.

Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.

His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her chest covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.

What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.

He’s so sexy though.

His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone beneath him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved at the very least.

“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”

Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs, a room with no space to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either. That’s not even a trusting him problem; for all you someone else made the drinks for Billy, and then you absolutely don’t trust it.

If he can’t manage to notice your reticence, why should Billy care if you’re comfortable?

You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets whisked away for the next partnered game, and relief washes over you.

The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You take a detour to dump your cup in the crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.

Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe, welcome, or seen. College is predictable this way.

You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.

Looking to your right, you don’t see anyone paying attention, and looking to your left you see a sloped wall.

He’s looking directly at you.

“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.

You wave it off with a polite ‘no, thank you,’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.

Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.

Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and Coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly Coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”

You can’t help but blurt, “you live here.”

“That is an astute observation, smartie pants,” he adds with a proud smile. Those, you imagine, might be the biggest words the guy knows.

You also imagine he wouldn’t drug himself with anything,, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.

You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand, your pinky running the length of his forefinger in the process, knuckles hard beneath callused skin, and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.

His smile softens. Your pinky tingles even after you return his drink.

“Where’s whats-his-face?” Ari scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”

You can’t help but frown and sigh as he takes another swig of soda, pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump. He only had stubble in class two years ago. You shouldn’t be thinking about what those lips might feel like. Hell, you shouldn’t be sharing a drink with anyone because that’s more intimate than anything you’ve enjoyed doing with Billy recently.

Billy is pushy and inexperienced. Every time he goes to touch you, it reminds you that he’s desperate for it, but…not in a flattering way. It’s difficult to describe.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw out loudly, keeping your guess silent. Perhaps hugging the toilet bowl?

Though a simple question, Ari looks somewhere between giddy and chided while contemplating his answer. He’s so dumb, poor thing. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.

“What?”

He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Ow, rough gig bandana girl. That’s a little harsh: being fobbed off mid-party. Although, you aren’t exactly replacing her. Ari is just talking to you. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s sitting beside you, only a little closer than Women’s Studies, sharing a sip of soda. That’s all.

“So, genius—”Ari elbows you gently, taking advantage to stay arm-to-arm this time “—how you been?”

You notice you’ve been shrinking against the wall and straighten as best you can without looking as if you’re pushing your boobs out.

“Fine. Just…busy with school work.”

Internally, you groan, hating to sound so boring and feeding into this idea you are nothing but a bookworm.

Ari swallows the last of his drink, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs lewdly—at least, it should be considered lewd with how the motion leads your eye down to the matching dark chest hair peeking behind the shirt collar. He scrunches his nose when the bubbles hit the back of his palate.

“Good. You always seemed happy. Bet you’re top of our class.” He emphasizes the year because he should have graduated already. Originally, he was a year ahead, but then he took a red-shirt year while injured. Ari doesn’t appear to mind that’s something else you share.

You bite your lip and wonder if he’s baiting you. If there’s one thing you’ve heard consistently in your whole young adult life, it’s that you ‘look angry’ and could ‘benefit’ from smiling more.

“I’m…somewhere up there, yeah,” you allow.

He points over his other shoulder and shimmies the empty cup in front of him. “You want one? What’s your favorite?”

For the first time all night, what you want has been considered. Not only if you want a drink, but which one do you want. Such a small thing, and yet the twist in your stomach unfurls a little. The drink itself doesn’t matter; the thought does. That, and being comfortable near him.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ari flashes that megawatt smile of his and says he’ll be back in a jiffy.

The true value of a beautiful idiot is you don’t have to be on edge. Your basic knowledge of any subject (save sports) would read as genius to a guy like him…which is also why it feels so unbelievable Ari’s choosing to hang in this corner with you. He’s friends with everyone. He could get anything from anybody here. It’s nice to be wanted, not needed.

He returns with two cups, one with a couple shots worth of Jack Daniels, the other full of CocaCola. He looks at you for approval, hesitating in case you want just plain soda, and then makes a huge show of his ‘mixing’ skills.

Absolute moron did not consider the carbonation exploding with every pour back and forth.

It’s a horrible mess of foam and splashing liquid. Both his hands are dripping and sticky, but you laugh freely by the end. You never thought you’d see the day Ari Levinson spilling a drink wouldn’t be triggering.

Not even a fleeting image of that ruined blouse crosses your mind while you weakly clinkthe plastic cups together. It’s the epitome of the college experience in your eyes. For once, you aren’t upset by that fact.

You keep smiling, wrinkling your nose at the fizz bursting on the back of your tongue. You can’t help it.

Ari is a happy drunk, and he starts talking, joking with you, tucked away in your own little bubble.

It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He’s self-deprecating about the same, drunken party behavior that you have watched him participate in for years, and yet you dismiss that as nothing, normal even, and unconsciously nudge closer to Ari, your side flush with his as you bend to see the person he’s bad-mouthing now.

He seems to like the irony in that and chuckles as he says someone over there is getting sloppy, lifting his Solo to his mouth with a dainty pinky raised in defiance. He’s a goofball. You haven’t been so relaxed with someone in…months.

Both drinks are finished quickly, and Ari offers to grab more.

The warm buzz humming beneath your skin tells you ‘yes,’ but your higher brain function steadfastly puts a foot down.

“I shouldn’t,” you mutter, sounding undecided.

He shrugs. For whatever reason, you appreciate that Ari isn’t pushing for anything from you, but that’s exactly what makes you want more from him. He stacks the empty cups and mentions walking you home. He could use some fresh air, he says.

“I should find Billy…”

Ari rolls his shoulders and thinks, his eyes follow suit, scraping his peripheral vision for an alternative that never presents. He stands up, arms akimbo, dramatically squinting to ‘think’ harder.

“He was wearing that red ball cap, right?”

“What?” You’ve never seen your boyfriend don a hat once but suddenly remember the pong partner who pulled him over. “No, that’s Leo,” you scream over the noise now that Ari is standing a few paces away. “Billy’s in, like, a neutral t-shirt.”

Ari smirks, scanning. “One beige Billy, coming up!”

Off he darts into the crowd, much faster than you’ve ever seen a drunk man move, and you skitter behind, realizing Ari stops at the kitchen only when you slam into his back.

He throws the empty cups into the trash and turns to the sink, washing his hands with dish soap, drying them on his shirt, leaving darker streaks of blue.

“Okay, not sticky,” Ari beams, “so now we go.”

Easily, naturally, his hand scoops up yours, and Ari leads you deftly through the throng.

He’s holding your hand. It’s damp and rough and cool and warm all at once. And you grasp it. You’re holding his hand back.

Though tall enough to see over most heads, Ari takes a good long while to notice everyone because they keep moving about. 

Pointing with your still-joined hands, you shout to check the beer pong room, but no Billy.

You two amble through the entire lower floor, stopped several times by people greeting Ari, and he introduces you automatically. You hope none of these other drunk frat boys remembers seeing you hold his hand while asking where your damn boyfriend is.

Without fail, each friend asks if you two are together, and to his credit, Ari quickly changes to “have you seen a guy…” and describes Billy.

“Dunno, man. Check upstairs?”

Ari thanks them and glances at you, a look of defeat creasing his forehead.

He drums his free fingers on the banister. He hesitates.

“Wait here?” he offers but drops your hand and doesn’t pause for your reply.

Using a football drill tactic, Ari bolts expertly up the stairs while you get waylaid by some girls holding up a selfie-stick to make a video. They bitch at the angle, ignoring you, and have to reshoot. You can’t get past.

Yelling.

Suddenly, there’s lots of yelling coming from the packed second floor and a door slams. Half the people in the stairway and hall look up.

More crashing and thudding noises ring out.

With everyone frozen, you shove your way through.

“What the fuck,” you hear just as some guy backs away, almost knocking you down. “Who the hell do you think you are, man?”

Your legs take you inside though your heart lodges in your throat.

Ari’s got Billy pinned over a wrecked desk on the other side of the room while the girl with the bandana top stands by a bed, pulling down her mini skirt. She snaps for Ari to mind his own business, and Ari immediately shoots a glare at her over his shoulder, keeping Billy pinned beneath him.

“Beks, for fuck’s sake,” Ari starts, but quickly, the guy who pushed you in the hall cusses her out louder than anyone else.

“Serves you right for getting back with Erin,” Bandana Girl snaps.

“Eat shit, Rebekah. You don’t actually care!”

What…is going on? These people are nuts.

At least four more bodies squeeze through the door, all looking blazing-mad while you get pushed farther into the suffocating room. You’re bewildered and overwhelmed.

Blocker Guy lunges forward and shoves Ari off of Billy.

Your hands are up, claiming space to breathe, but there’s way too much going on. No one—not even you—can hear your voice crying to be let out.

Funny thing is, you aren’t crying for Billy to help you. Only after you yell for Ari does your brain process that your boyfriend’s fly is down, his jeans unbuttoned, too.

A large, rough hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the door, barreling you both through the crowd to another room down the hall. It’s surreal to see the group descend on the fight like moths to a flame, drawn to watch what horrible thing these students will do next.

Ari man-handles you inside without hitting a light switch. It’s pitch black, but the closed door at your back muffles only a fraction of the commotion.

From the other side, you hear Billy calling your name, but Ari’s soft, panting breath steals your focus as it gusts across your neck.

His lips shift close to your ear.

“Don’t do it, smartie,” he whispers. “Leave him.”

The stale smell of beer wafts forward when you lean farther into that letterman jacket Ari keeps prominently hung. You feel the ribs of the cuffs against your bare arms until, suddenly, it’s the ridges of Ari’s rough fingers ghosting over your skin.

If Billy’s still screaming, you can’t tell. Your heart thunders in your chest as the hot breath rolling over you moves up your neck and over your jaw.

He’s right there.

He’s right there. He’s drunk. He’s stupid. He doesn’t matter. You don’t matter to him. It’ll never work and it doesn’t have to. This could be so simple.

You envy how easy this is for him, always another girl around the corner, in the next room, who will want him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about wanting to use him. He’s right there, willingly, single or not, sober or not, and so you grip the soft linen of his shirt collar and tug him straight to you.

It doesn’t matter how sloppy you are, how shy or how forceful you get, because you live like him in this moment.

Ari doesn’t care about anything. Self-assured. Confident. Sexy. Popular. He doesn’t have to care.

Now, neither do you.

[Next Part]

⬅️ Steve Rogers and a kiss where it hurts

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[jikooklove9795]

JIKOOK & NOV 8th 2015

In South Korea couples have a unique and delightful way of celebrating anniversaries marking special milestones. They commemorate these milestones by exchanging personalized gifts, going on romantic dates, by wearing matching clothes or by sharing photos documenting their relationship. This is done in recognition of their continuous love and appreciation.

Now let's dive into see how Jikook celebrates a special a date in their relationship.

On Nov 8th 2015 Jikook posts their first video together on twitter

Exactly 100 days after Nov 8th 2015 Jungkook made a tweet about the importance of lyrics in a song and uploaded his cover of Nothing Like Us by Justin Bieber

One year later on Nov 8th 2016 Jimin posts a video of Jungkook and him sitting together on a plane

On Nov 8th 2017 Jungkook releases his first ever GCF. It was video documenting Jimin and Jungkook's private trip to Japan in 2017. A trip Jungkook planned and arranged as a birthday gift to Jimin

On Jan 26th 2018, which is 811 days from Nov 8th 2015 Jimin posted this pic. Do you see the black & white reference at the foot of the champagne glass? Interesting right??!!

On August 2018 BTS were in Malta filming BV Season 3.

1000 days after Nov 8th 2015 Jungkook posted a selca while in Malta at 10:13 local time which is Jimin time

And on the 1500the day from Nov 8th 2015 Jimin posts a selca at 1:50

Now before we move on let's take a moment to remember that Jimin won the Search King Challenge question where BTS had to find the 2000th day from the first episode of Run BTS. He used the NAVER Anniversary Calculator. Jungkook was not far behind. He was about to answer but lost by a few seconds to Jimin. Hoseok had no idea about the calendar while Namjoon went for Google. So, this shows Jimin often uses the calculator for finding important dates and anniversaries

Okay, now back to our main topic.

BTS PTD Seoul Concert in March 2022. And during the concert...

He said "This is Jimin from grade 2 class 3 number 15". Cause March 10th 2022 was exactly 2315 days from Nov 8th 2015.

Remember the rectangular Maison Margeila pendant which Jimin wears? He wears the one where the number 11 is encircled.

Let's take out 11 and add all the other numbers on this pendant.

10+12+13+14+15+16

And we get 80

So, what do we have

11/8

On Feb 21 2022 Jungkook posted a video on his IG highlighting 23:08 which is basically 11:08 however the story was originally posted at 1 am

On October 26th 2022 (which is 13 days after Jimin's birthday and 13 days to Nov 8th) while in Qatar Jungkook posted a pic on his IG at 11:08 pm KST

There are a myriad of references to 11/8 from song covers, song recommendations ending at the 1:18 mark to pics posted by both Jimin and Jungkook.

Both Jungkook and Jimin has shown how they are serious about these numbers relating to their relationship or those about each other. Reminds me of how Jimin started a live on Sept 1st 2023 wearing a 1997 model watch adjusted to Jungkook's birth time

Nov 8th 2024 marks their 9 years of togetherness.

So, let me conclude this post by wishing the couple a

"Happy Anniversary"

💛💜

Credits to the owner of the video

[flowersbane]

⚠️ MAJOR spoilers below for the ending of Dragon Age: The Veilguard ⚠️

this is a fic i wrote after completing the game. intended for solavellan besties who want a little more solavellan content because the ending just wasn’t enough (nothing would’ve been enough i need that man carnally)

Epilogue

Solas 🤍 Lavellan

Solas wakes in the Fade after falling into a restful slumber following the fight with Elgar’nan and his archdemon.

Word Count: 721

Rating: T

Tags: Solas’s POV, Kind of a Fix-It Fic?, Unedited (too busy crying), Solavellan Heaven

AO3 Link ✔️

The first thing he perceived was birdsong. It reached him through the darkness of sleep and began pulling him from his slumber. As his senses returned to him, his surroundings became known. He was laying on a bed. Sunlight was warming his face. His movement was no longer accompanied by the heaviness of his armor, only the weight of his soreness. A soft groan sounded from his lips as he turned onto his side. Then, his memories hit him like a storm. The Inquisitor. The Veil. The Fade. Panic tore through him, making him alert and fully awake. Before he could act, however, the door to the room he was in swung open.

Lavellan, in the same clothes she had worn in Skyhold, entered. Sunlight illuminated her hair from behind, making her as radiant as she always appeared to be. When their eyes met, he wondered if the guilt would outweigh the grief or if it would be the other way around.

“I should not have allowed you to come with me.”

She stared at him, expression unreadable and gaze steady.

“I was spent from my battle with Elgar’nan’s archdemon, I was not thinking clearly, and you…” He hadn’t had the strength to fully recognize her presence. After spending so many years watching her through the Fade and through her dreams, a part of him could not believe that she was truly before him once again; that she had forgiven him. “It is not an excuse. I will find a way to return you to the world, where you will be able to live your life with the people you love.”

“Why?”

The question startled him. He froze in the process of rising from his bed. “Pardon?”

“Why would you do that? I did not ask you to, so why?”

He sank back into the mattress, brows drawing together. “Vhenan–”

“No! Don’t you vhenan me.” She lifted her chin in a show of defiance that made his memories swirl. Her face when they argued. The confidence with which she led the inquisition with. Her expression before every adversary she ever encountered and bested. “I made my decision to follow you, you do not get to take that from me. You do not get to decide what is best for me. Not anymore. The only reason I will leave is if you ask me to because you no longer love me.” There was an uncertainty in her gaze that he had not often seen. In truth, he had only ever caught glimpses of it after Crestwood. “Do you not love me?”

He rose from the bed. “I do.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could fully consider them. “I have only ever loved you, but it is selfish of me to keep you here when I know there are many who love you beyond this place.”

“You still don’t get it. You are not keeping me here. I want to be here, I want to be with you.” The look on her face threatened every thread of his pride’s will. “I love you, Solas.”

His hands moved on their own, palm pressing against the side of her face. “I love you too, vhenan.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. Her closeness was the warmth of the sun after a long winter. She was the return home after a long war. Comforts he did not deserve. “But what of your friends? Your family? Your clan?”

“You are my heart. Do you expect me to live without my heart?”

The threads came undone. He pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that felt immortal. It was every kiss they had ever shared and every kiss they would share from then on. He wrapped his arms around her and closed the distance between their bodies. They could not be close enough. When they finally pulled away from one another, he could not stop himself from kissing her again, shorter this time but laced with all the longing he had caged during the years they had been apart. “I love you. Forgive me, vhenan, I love you.”

She placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.” She planted another closer to his cheek. “Solas.”

[simp-ly-writes]

'Not-A-Couple' Couple

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Trevor Evarts x Short!Chef!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Its Who Meme'd It time yet again and the guest star today is you! It being your first time on a Smosh set, you don't expect anything to happen but how wrong are you when all the meme's appear to be about you and your totally-not boyfriend (and coworker), Trevor.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n), light swearing, mutual pining, fluff, short, attempt at comedy.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 811

─ · · A/N: I fully support Trevors IRL relationships, this is fully fictional and meant for entertainment purposes! Thank you for the ask, anon!!! 🥹 I hope you enjoy~

─────── · ·

Trevor Evarts was your best friend; you both went to culinary school together and since then have worked side by side in the kitchen ever since. There was not a singular moment in the day that you both wouldn't be seen without the other in the general vicinity- so much so that it had become a meme around both the Good Mythical Morning Kitchen and Smosh studios.

Any possible duo theme, thing one and thing two, sun and shadow, stars and moon, scooby to their shaggy- whatever it was you both had heard of it already to describe the two of you. It also didn't help when you both shared clothes and accessories: that hoodie of yours? Now Trevors. Those cookie-themed socks Trevor got for the holidays last year? Yours. And you both couldn't get started on kitchen utensils either- you both infamous for your... cleanly work stations.

So when you got called in as a guest star for Smosh one afternoon after preparing food for thee Harrison Ford's last meal, you were more than confused and more than covered in layers of flour and sugar dragging your tried limbs to the set.

You loved watching Trevor preform more than anything, your eyes hyper-focused on his every expression as you mirrored his smile even as it grew once meeting your eyes from behind the camera. He was doing quite well this game, more so then he had done in the past once watching old videos, and you were anxious for him to win but it seemed that the Smosh cast would have otherwise.

To your shock and horror and to Smosh's love and joy, every subsequent meme since you had entered the room had suddenly became concentrated on you and Trevors NON-Existent (romantic) relationship.

The screen flooded with image after image: you and Trevor drawn like toad and frog. Trevor when he licks icing off of your cheek. Your cheeks warming when Trevor calls you anything but you name but also when he calls you name (and Trevor doing the same). Two Chefs one Bed. Trevor and you after-hours staying behind to eat leftovers under the studios fairy lights. Trevor placing items up high on purpose to get your attention. Trevor standing behind you as a protecting presence for your anxiety. You kicking Trevor in the shins (gently) when annoyed with him. You and Trevor holding hands when you both think nobody is watching- you name it and you were being lovingly attacked for it.

Cheeks were burning hot now as you stuck your middle finger up to camera and stood up to swore before Damien was pressing your shoulder down for you to sit, eyes filled with tears from laughing so hard as Trevor did his best to hide himself behind his answer board. You both refused to look at one another so much so that the next meme depicted this exact scenario.

"(name) and Trevor when they both get called out for 'just being really, super, truly, goof friends, be like:" Tommy reads out the text before pointing between the two of you with a large grin that has you questioning the most effective way to be rid of its teasing glory in your face.

"Comments are gonna be absolutely wild underneath this video," Trevor mutters underneath his breath, surprised that the audio team let alone you was even able to pick up on his mutterings from behind all this unfolding chaos.

"When have the comments never been wild between the two of us?" You yell out from behind camera while shaking your head.

"Oh?" Tommy quips, raising a brows and leaning over the table dramatically intrigued only for you both to return to your hiding stances as you grip Damien for cover as Trevor falls beneath the table.

─────── · ·

Who Meme'd It: Hells Kitchen Edition

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 67k | 👎 8.36M subscribers 300k views 1 week ago your fav 'not-a-couple' is back! click to read more

1,110 Comments

username01 (name) out here lookin' like they are about to murder the whole cast at 14:11. I live for their energy! 😂

username24 19:21 "Your cheeks warming when Trevor calls you anything but you name but also when he calls you name (and Trevor doing the same)" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🥰😭

username99 soooooo.... are they together oooorrrr??

username00 Trevor and (name), please take this as a formal request for you both to get together (romantically preferably).

username45 Not (name) using Damien as a cover 😂😂

↳ username88 IKR?? they got me chocking on my tacos over here XD

username77 the mutual pining was real. I. fucking. knew. it.

username10 24:34 "Comments are gonna be absolutely wild underneath this video," - Trevor Evarts 2024. Yes, sir- they are.

username61 someone comment on this comment when these two idiots get engaged, I need to know when for... scientific purposes...

─────── · ·

─ · · TREVOR TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @thevintagefangirl @maricarorp @uniquely-haunting

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/766521824686243840/mob-boss-viserys-with-his-terribly-young-wife?source=share

She was just a senior in college when her father told her that she was going to be getting married to Viserys. At first sight, she didn't like Viserys because she was trying to detach herself from her family business. She thought Viserys was going to be a cold husband, but after Viserys took her on a couple of dates, and bought her some pretty gifts. Things she liked she grew accustomed to him. Especially after one night when they had come home from a pretty sweet evening, she was drunk and was feeling very horny. Knowing she never went after older guys, she couldn't deny that Viserys was attractive. Moving on autopilot, she pulled the mob boss into a hard kiss which Viserys reciprocated. Loving his lips on hers' she was quick to shove her tongue in his mouth to wrestle with his. Viserys feeling his cock harden started groping his pretty wife. Earning some sweet moans from her, not waiting. Viserys picked her up while she wrapped her leg around his waist, carrying her to their bedroom.

Once in the room, Viserys didn't hesitate to throw her on the bed, following behind forcing a ravishing kiss to her swollen lips. Loving how dominant Viserys was, she unbuttoned his shirt, unlacing his belt wanting to see her husband in all his glory. Viseys doing the same to his wife clothes, both marveled at their naked glory. Seeing his pretty young wife, naked made Viserys cock hardened than he had ever been. Seeing the huge cock, his young wife, got to her knees to take him into her mouth. Visery moaned feeling her tight throat gagging and choking on his cock. Feeling powerful, Viserys grabbed the back of her head to face fuck his wife with the power he knew he had over her. Feeling tears in her eye, she felt in bliss, seeing how no one has fucked her mouth like this before.

Not wanting to waste a drop, Visery's pulled out, hearing her take a deep breath. Before he flipped her on her stomach, and rub his wet cock with her salvia over her wet clit. Begging for him, Visery's plunged into her, fucking her like a whore in a brothel. She can't help but moan at feeling his big cock stretching her insides so good. She wanted Viserys to fill up as much as possible since she was his wife. Hearing that Viserys orgasm hit hard flooding her womb, to where it brought on to a hard climax coming from her cunt, milking his cock of ever cum he could release in her. After sobering up the next she came to tell Visrys she didn't regret anything.

Viserys believes it is time to meet his family. Since they technically were on honeymoon time. Once arrives back she meets his eldest daughter and youngest but what she is in for a bigger surprise is his handsome sons who seem to have fallen in love at first sight with their new stepmother.

https://www.sex.com/pin/32696209-doggystyle-pulling-hair/

https://www.sex.com/pin/6169161-cute-blonde-gets-her-face-pounded/

ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!

is in for a bigger surprise is his handsome sons who seem to have fallen in love at first sight with their new stepmother. Oh you know they crowd around her and Aegon is hugging her a little longer than needed

[honibumii]

My Yuu doesn't own any clothing, he just steals stuff from Ace and Deuce. He is always softly wrapped up by the comfort of their clothes. By the way. If you even care.

[save-mohamed-family]

My campaign is verified and added to the Gaza Donations page with number 192.

Thank you for documenting my campaign from the following accounts:

@sar-soor @heba-20 @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost @soon-palestine@ibtisams @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @northgazaupdates @fallahifag @fairuzfan

I love you all 🙏🙏♥️🌹

I am Mohammed Almanasra, 32 years old, married, and a father of three children: Abdulrahman, 6 years old, Sarah, 4 years old, and Lina, 3 years old.

My story began with the loss of my parents and four of my sisters, who were bombed and lost their lives along with their children after the events of October 7 and the severe war on Gaza. Now, I am facing a severe injury to my leg, which is at risk of amputation if I do not receive the necessary treatment. My wife, children, and I are displaced, without parents or siblings, and my wife is also suffering from uterine cancer.

Recently, I moved to the south of the Gaza Strip, fearing for the lives of my children. We left behind our memories and our new home, for which we had not finished paying the installments, in addition to losing my job. Currently, I live in a tent that does not protect me from the heat of summer or the cold of winter, and without the minimum necessary livinng basics including water, food medical care, clothe and even bedding .

I suffer from a chronic asthma and severe attacks from tightness and an extreme allergy in the ear and I need medicine that are not available, or very expensive .

Under these difficult circumstances, after five attempts at displacement and narrowly escaping death from the bombing, I am trying with all my might to protect my family, the most precious thing I have.

My dreams were shattered, and my house was destroyed, and I found myself living in a tent no larger than 4 square metres. My work turned from a tailor to a street vendor in order to barely buy a few crumbs of bread to feed my children.

Look at what happened to my children because of the intense heat and the insects that thrive in the summer season. Every day, I take them to the hospital to treat them due to poisonous insect bites. I implore every kind-hearted soul to help me protect my children.

My son, Abdul Rahman, has a deep passion for playing football and is a devoted fan of Real Madrid. He always dreamed of playing football at his school, but the war prevented this dream from coming true.

Where are you, Real Madrid fans ?

Help Abdul Rahman achieve his dream.

Every donation will make an enormous difference in helping me save my family.

I feel very sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know that this request is difficult, but I also know that there is still humanity and living consciences and I believe in miracles.

Your support during this extremely difficult time will give us hope in the midst of devastation and despair.

If you have any inquiries or questions, feel free to ask me, please!

To everyone with a compassionate heart,

To all who understand the essence of humanity,

This is a message from my innocent children, who trust that their words will reach everyone who truly understands the meaning of childhood.

We cry out to you, asking you to feel our sorrow and pain, and to extend a helping hand to us in this time when we are in desperate need of your mercy and compassion.

My name is being repeatedly added to many public and private donation campaigns. Please, be a support for me in this difficult situation.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

Sincere greetings & thanks

Mohammed & the family

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[dumbbitchgalore]

Happy Wife, Happy Life 🤷🏽‍♀️ (🌽 Link)

Old Man!Price with a huge beer belly is always excited when you cook him a home cooked meal.

During his time in the SAS, John would absentmindedly fantasise about the bliss of domesticity. Of coming home to a well-loved house filled with knick-knacks with you giving John a soft smile while telling him that dinner will be on the table in a few.

Sometimes John tries to think about what religious good that he has ever done to have you in his life and he is fully convinced that domestic bliss does not exist without you in it. Pride and pity fills him up when he thinks about all the sad bastards out there who have never had the privilege of seeing you.

With all those years of training, he's developed some self restraint. He doesn't pounce straight away, wanting to take his sweet time with you.

John will sit in the living room watching you cook a hearty meal for the two of you, in your apron and not so cute pyjamas underneath which gives you such a wifely hue that he can never get over.

You plate dinner up and fix the dining table for dinner before you beckon him to sit down and eat. The mundanity of the conversation is what makes John's mind run a mile a minute. Having a beautiful wife, a delicious meal and talking about anything and everything that does relate to work. He can finally switch his mind off, he's away from the screams and shouts of the battlefield and is in the security of the four walls you share together,

Instead of the cries of the innocent and the ricochet of rockets banging in his eardrums, it's your sweet voice and loud laughs that echo in his ear like the melody of sirens. He's entranced and he only falls deeper. After dinner, John will help you clear the table, wash the dirty dishes and put away the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

You and John both walk to your bedroom and make your way to the en suite with John tailing behind you. Getting started with your nightly routine, he'll walk up behind you slowly yet purposefully, resting his hands on your hips before snaking his burly arms around your waist with your back flush against his chest, earning a chuckle from you. 

A searing kiss on your shoulder, making his way to the curve of your neck, licking and nipping. Your face begins to flush and feel hot. A quiet, content sigh leaves your lips as John nuzzles into your neck with one hand squeezing your tits occasionally pinching your nipple. 

“Come on, petal. The bed’s right there.” He’ll murmur against your skin like a lovesick puppy. 

You try to protest only to have John already tugging you away from the bathroom sink to the bed. He’ll push you into the bed, settling in between your thighs. John will look up, hungry, desperate and absolutely pathetic. Peppering your inner thigh with chaste kisses, he makes his way to your clothed cunt. 

“Been missing this good girl.” John buries his face into your cunt as it begins to soak your panties slightly. Groaning at the scent of you, he sucks on your panties. His saliva mixing with the arousal staining your panties. Eyes dilating as your soft mewls reverberate off the walls, John gets drunk of your noises. 

“Forgot to take Viagra, hun. It’s just my mouth and hands for the night.” He looks at you apologetically. 

You groan, hastily taking off your panties before shoving his face forcefully into your sopping pussy.

“More than enough, big bear.” A shudder gasp leaves your lips as John sucks on your clit, your thighs lock his head in place, pulling him even closer than before. 

Blissful domesticity. John’s addiction.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"