#Unfortunately it was like a five minute short and it was a “fuck around and find out” short where Archie was the antagonist

[childofaura]

It’s been a hot while since I’m here but just like with the Sonic VA ask: Which is your favourite Pokèmon VA (for the human characters that is)?

Pretty much all the 4kids actors, I unfortunately haven’t engaged much with Pokémon media for a while so I haven’t kept up on the Masters VAs or the anime/shorts VAs.

Though the one thing I’ll give to the Pokémon Company dub was Jason Griffith playing Cilan. You cast Jason, you automatically win my approval.

[oceantornadoo]

ch7 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: oral sex both ways

masterlist | next

John Price thrives on routine. His days are filled with meetings and bloodshed, negotiations and betrayal. Routine keeps him sane.

Unfortunately, that resolution crumbled the moment he gained a wife. It’s getting harder and harder to leave in the morning, to ignore the fluttering of your eyelashes as you feign sleep. That’s what he blames for this break in routine.

The morning after, he stays for ten minutes instead of five. Counts the ticks of the old clock in the corner of his room as he memorizes the scent of your skin. You always end up with your head in the crook of his neck, legs tangled around his torso. He’s never been much of a back sleeper, but now it’s the last thing he cares about. It’s the sound of your breathing, the plushness of your skin, the brush of your chest against his. When he eventually gets up, he doesn’t look at the bed until he’s ready. If he glanced back at your eyes in half-slits, shifting closer to his pillow to soak up the remaining warmth he left in the bed, he would never leave the room. 

At night, though, he succumbs to his weakness. He creates a new routine.

It’s the start of a new week after the getting-off confession. John had business in Glasgow over the weekend, lonely and cold in his hotel bed, but now he’s back.

“So Laswell sent me the contract. I definitely have enough to pay in full, but I’m thinking of paying half and then doing installments for the rest so I can have enough for immediate repairs. What do you-John?” John’s nodding along to your rant, disappearing under the covers to the place he’s been thinking about all weekend. The blanket’s a bit heavy, limiting his breathing, but it’s worth it for the sight of your clothed cunt, waiting for him.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.” Instead of following his orders, you peel back the cover until his head peeks out. “What are you doing?” He rubs circles into your thighs, reveling in their softness. John moves upwards, teasing the fabric of your pajama shorts. “You miss me this weekend?” He murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to his wife or her cunt. Both seem happy to see him, if that’s any consolation.

“No, I actually got the best sleep of my- hey!” He shoves his face into the triangle of your lap, sniffing with wonder. “Fuck, I missed ya.” You’re silent at his admission, but your hand finds a hold in his hair. “You did?” It’s soft and unsure, forcing him to rip his focus away from your pussy. “I did.” You bite your lip adorably. You tug him forward, gripping his scalp hard, until his face is in front of yours. 

“Maybe next time, you take me with you.” Absolutely not. He was meeting with a new prospective manufacturer, shady and dangerous. He was not putting you in any sort of danger. John shakes his head, heart clenching as your face falls. “Not the kind of place fer you, baby. Gonna let me eat you out now?” You nod, but your face is still hard with repressed emotion. He kisses your forehead, trailing down to your cheek, then nose. “Give us a kiss then.” It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him first, the notion sending blood straight to his cock. The kiss is short and sweet. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve gotten him under your spell. Two bloody weeks. He pulls away, a final kiss laid to your jaw. “Keep talkin’. Don’t mind me.”

The new routine continues for weeks. He gets you off a different way every night, from fingers to tongue to plain old grinding. And then he goes to sleep with you tucked to his side, taking care of himself in the morning. John needs you to be the one to ask to fuck, to reciprocate. The alternative leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Plus, every time he gets you off, you fall asleep immediately, like it’s the only way you’ll go to bed. It’s terribly endearing.

A month in, he starts noticing changes. The furniture in the sitting room, for one. They used to be 18th century relics, designed to make sure a guest didn’t overstay their welcome. Except now they’re eclectic, blue and green against the cream walls. The couches look comfortable, like you could spend a whole day there. The paintings change as well, from Rembrandt to Monet and Picasso. The impressionist works, blues and greens and yellows, work well with the new furniture, making his flat seem like a home. When he asks you, all you do is shrug and say something smart about updating his old man apartment. He leaves bite marks on your thighs that night. 

It’s a beautiful Friday night when John gets home early, around 9. He usually gets text updates from Terrance, your commandeered security guard that Price assigned to you full time, about your movements. You’ll usually get home at 7, but nothing yet. Two hours late. He calls Terrance and gets his voicemail. Highly unusual. Calmly, he presses on your contact's name, and it goes to voicemail. Three times.

Fingers shaking, he calls Kyle.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“My fuckin’ wife, Garrick.”

“Isn’t she with Terrance?” “No one’s answerin’ their goddamn phone.” Gaz sighs on the other end, like this is an inconvenience and not his wife they’re talking about. Keys click, then a mouse, before Gaz answers. “They’re at the bookstore. Been there since this mornin’, sir.” John drags a hand down his face, then grabs the keys to the car he barely uses. 

“Garrick, this is the last time you take more than three seconds t’ know where she is. I want a full team on ‘er at all times. I won’t hesitate t’ assign someone else as my Head of Security, someone who isn’t lettin’ their judgement take over their goddamn job. Copy?” He hasn’t dressed down one of his men, especially Kyle, but he’s tired of the man’s judgement on this marriage. What’s done is done. “Yessir.” John hangs up, too miffed to say goodbye. He’s got a wife to find.

-

Your bookstore is coming along well. It’s been over a month since you’ve been married, a month of John’s fingers and tongue loosening you in more ways than one. You swear you’ve developed stronger thigh muscles, simply from the orgasms he coaxes from you night after night. And then he just goes to sleep. You’ve felt his cock in fleeting touches, brushing against your thigh or hard in his lap as you grind on him. He never takes it out, never drags your hand in that grueling way men do with shady eyes and slimy smirks. Every night, he asks you if you hate him, and every night, your lie convinces him less and less. 

And every night, you think of how adamant he was against you joining him. His insistence that it “wasn’t the kind of place for you.” Your old problem with him has faded, a mess of childhood fears rolled into new ones. In its place are your insecurities, the word bastard floating through your head every time you think of his rejection. The clause in the marriage contract. It rolls together into a simple thought: he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s barely let you in on his business, content to stick with late night chats and orgasms. It should be fine, it should be what you wanted, but instead you feel a hollow hole in your heart where the word ‘friends’ lives. Even friends should share their secrets. 

But back to the bookstore. Your new baby. This first month was full of cleaning, dusting out odd corners and greasing creaky door hinges. You listed a hiring notice on online job boards, looking for an assistant to help with the grunt work. Which landed you Phil, a wonderful addition to the team. He was around your age, an American with sandy blond hair. Handsome in a basic way, something you noted and never thought of again. Terrance ran a background check on him, something you gladly consented to, and insisted on helping you interview him. It took a week of recon, but he was officially your new assistant as of two weeks ago. An amazing help around the store, handy with tools. You’d told Phil that you were the daughter of a lord, a minor lie to explain the bodyguard. He shrugged it off, the ex-pat seemingly used to the oddities of London.

Now that the space had been cleared, it was finally time to paint. Terrance insisted that he couldn’t help too much, his main duty too important, but with the help of Phil, you convinced him to paint the walls with you. You all left your phones in the half-fixed office, donning plastic sheets to protect from paint splatter. Your business plan, formed from your downtime during the day and shaped by your late-night conversations with John, was to have a store section and a community section. The community section would be at the front, with a beautiful light blue accent wall, perfect for book influencers. It would be surrounded by comfy couches and warm lighting, complete with a cafe space you intended to build out. Your idea reminded you of the library waiting hours away, with its own fireplace and furniture. You decided to recreate that cozy feeling and bring it to the public.

Farther into the building there would be bigger shelves for rows and rows of books, organized by type. The color scheme was influenced by the one in your home, as you decided to hand paint metal shelves light blues, greens, and yellows. Most would be bought, but you were planning a book drive far out for people to donate old books and get discounts on new ones. It’s an idea you had wanted to do in Manchester but never got around to.

Now that the front of the store was cleared out and bare, it was time to paint. The hours fly by as you paint the light blue wall while Phil and Terrance work on a cream wall on the other side. When you blink, the sun is already down, and your watch is flashing 10PM at you.

“Guys it’s almost ten! I think we ought to lay down the brushes for tonight.” Phil opened his mouth to respond but is cut off by a harsh pounding at the locked front door. It was supposed to be clear, but there was newspaper on all of your windows to prevent the glass from getting paint on it. Frowning, you moved to open the door, but Terrance stopped you with his arm out, his other hand reaching for his gun. “Go into the office, ma’am.” You followed his command reluctantly, Phil following on your heels as you went into the back office. It didn’t have any windows, so it was a space you did not want to be in for a while. Phil looked nervous, running his hand through his hair and tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Phil. Probably one of the neighbors complaining about our music.” You insisted on a jam session as you painted, blasting music from a speaker you stole from the Castle. “Shady things happen in London no matter what time, boss.” You shrug, picking up your phone to quell your nerves. A glance at your notifications explains everything.

Oh no.

You burst from the office, phone already returning one of your many missed calls. That’s when you ran into your husband, face hitting his hard chest with a harsh oof. “Christ, sweetheart, gave me a near heart attack.” John steadied your shoulders with his large hands, anchoring you in his grip. His brow was furrowed, eyes crinkling in worry as he scanned you up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You didn’t answer-” “Everything good out here?” Fuck. Phil.

“Who are you?” It was a tone you’d never heard come out of John’s mouth. You imagined it was his mafia man voice, gruff and short like he had a better place to be. John shoves you behind him, reaching for his gun. You rolled your eyes, hand covering his to stop a potential shoot-out. 

“John, he’s my-” “Assistant, sir. Good to put a name to the face, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You could practically hear Phil winking, laying on the Southern charm. You wrestled out of John’s grip, stepping out from behind his back. Phil’s hand was out for a handshake, but John hadn’t taken it, scanning the man up and down with suspicious eyes. “Funny, ‘cause I’ve never heard about you.” John tore his gaze away to catch yours, eyes slanted in anger. “I don’t have to tell you everything, John. I’ve got my own life, you know.” He looked almost hurt at your words, which couldn’t be true. Sure, you were fucking, but it’s not like this was a normal marriage. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted Phil working with you, just on the basis of him being a man. You didn’t want to be micromanaged by your own husband, so you simply hadn’t got around to telling him. 

“C’mere.” John tugged you towards the office, his grip hard. You could hear Terrance telling Phil to go home and wait for an update. Probably for the best. You imagined Terrance following him out, then debriefing with John’s driver about how much of an asshole their boss was.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John asked, arms crossed and face red. He’d shut the office door but remained standing since there wasn’t any furniture yet. “Because I knew you’d get like this.” You spit out, crossing your arms to mirror his. “Fuckin’ concerned fer the security of my wife? Tha’s a bad reaction?” You took a step back from him, crossing your arms tighter so you could pinch your waist, a reminder to stay strong.

“Controlling and caveman. This is my place of work, John, and you’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworker.” He doesn’t meet your eye, staring at the door so hard it might burst into flames. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, muscles trembling from restraint. “Ya don’t realize how many enemies I have. Every person needs t’ be checked.” Did he think you were stupid? “I had Terrance check him out. I know you don’t want me around your work, but I’m not an idiot, John.”

His rejection of your offer to travel with him weeks ago had stung more than you cared to admit. He clearly didn’t trust you, only seeing you as someone to fuck around with. You didn’t realize how far that lack of trust went.

“He should’ve reported it to Gaz.” John mutters. “He did. I know that for a fact.” John ran a hand through his hair, then dipped down to tug at his tie. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me. Christ, he’s worse than I thought.” You wanted to ask what that meant, but you bit your lip instead. He obviously didn’t want to tell you.

“Look, I know I’m a bastard and you had that goddamn clause in the contract, but you can trust me. I’m not running around behind your back.” That got John’s gaze to snap back to you, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Tha’s wha’ ya think this is about?” You nod, suddenly unsure. “Sweetheart, that was Gaz’s idea. T’ see if you’d argue. I intended for you to ask fer another cheatin’ clause fer me, but ya didn’t so I let it go. ‘S nothin’ like tha’. Plus, I didn’t know ya then. I know ya now.” Oh.

“So you trust me?” What about the trip? You wanted to ask, but you figure that would show your hand too much. John nods slowly, uncrossing his hands to put them on his hips. “Don’t care tha’ yer a bastard. ‘M not fuckin’ anyone else, either. I’m just concerned fer yer safety.” He takes a few steps towards you, gauging your reaction to see if you step back. You don’t, uncrossing your arms and praying they don’t shake. He grabs your hands in his own, blue eyes swimming with openness. There are so many things you want to ask him about: your childhood, his father, the future. They all fall to the wayside when he leans down to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “If I didn’t trust ya, ya wouldn’t sleep in my bed.” He kisses your forehead, then cheek, before pulling back. “I need ya t’ believe me.” He demands it seriously. A sudden rush of affection hits your heart. He looks so truthful, so concerned, and you want to show him that same care back.

You lower to your knees. John steps back, unsure. “Sweetheart, ya don’t have to.” You shake your head, beckoning him to come near. “I want to.”

John tugs off the blazer he’s wearing, folding it into a light pillow. He squats down on his haunches, eyes on yours. A warm hand brushes your knees, urging you up so he can slip the blazer under them. He then stands; blue eyes dark as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Go’on, baby. Take whatever you want.”

You reach for his black belt, unfastening it with trembling hands. It unclips with ease, and John’s hands, hairy and veiny and strong, cloud your vision as he unfurls it from his belt loops. You continue downwards, undoing the midnight black of his button. You unzip slowly, licking your lips in anticipation. His fingers brush back the creases on your forehead, trailing down to brush the shell of your ear. “Feel ok?” You nod at his question, cupping him through his boxers. John releases a sharp exhale, a heady sense of power coming over you. You work the pants down fully to give you room, petting him this way and that.

Finally, you peel down the dark fabric of his boxers. He’s hairy but well-maintained, similar to his fuzzy torso you’ve felt in bed. His cock is thick and heavy, wet with precum as it slaps against his upper thigh. You tuck his boxers down to give you room, then start exploring. Kitten licks to the base of him, his hair tickling your nose. Your hand joins you to squeeze his balls, eliciting a sharp groan. John tugs on your hair, more out of instinct than control. “You feel ok?” You throw his words back at him, a cheshire smile growing as he moans again.

“Christ, those fuckin’ hands.” He responds. You move to start stroking, licking him from base to tip. He tastes like salt and musk, but clean with the scent of pine. It’s the most addicting scent on earth. After he’s wet and leaking, you steady yourself with a hand on his upper thigh and the other on your husband’s cock.

You finally take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his tip. You hum and his grip on your hair tightens. “‘M gonna fuck yer mouth sometime.” You let go of him with a pop, leaning backwards. “Not tonight?” He shakes his head, reaching down to pump his cock in your absence. “I’m a few strokes from cummin’, sweetheart. You look too goddamn good on yer knees.” That earns a grin from you and a renewed sense of vigor.

You suck him hard this time, your hand making up the length you can’t cover. You work yourself into an easy rhythm, up and down as he cradles your face. It’s much softer than you’ve ever experienced from a man, careful and protective. He wasn’t kidding about how close he is, harsh pants emitting faster and faster from his chest. “Where d’ya want me, baby?” You don’t respond, keeping him in your mouth. All you do is blink sweetly, willing your eyes to look bigger than usual. “Fuckin’ perfect, my wife.” That sends a jolt to your heart, and you have to stop yourself from accidentally biting down. Instead of responding, you stroke faster and faster. His abs tense, and you pull back just slightly, letting him coat your tongue and lips. It’s salty but not bitter, a marker of how fucking healthy he is. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly. His thumb brushes off a bit from your nose, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck hard, like you did the night he first fingered you. He continues cleaning you up, careful and quiet in his movements. John tucks himself back into his pants and offers you a hand to help you off the floor.

“Your knees sore?” He whispers. You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed despite not having taken your clothes off. “C’mere.” He tugs you into his arms, tucking you under his chin. “We good?” He asks. You want to say no, want to ask him all the questions swirling around in your head, but all you do is nod and hold him closer.

-

In the car, John’s hand on your thigh, your phone vibrates. It’s Phil.

Everything ok?

Yep! Marital problems, all good.

Your husband is intense.

He’s a sweetheart for me, all that matters 🙂

Good to know. See you tomorrow.

His tone is odd, but you shove that thought from your mind. John squeezes your hand, and you tuck your phone away, content to focus on your husband. Phil is the farthest thought from your mind.

-

um. smut. now they're like friends with problems? idk enemies got boring.

-

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[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[sungbeam]

𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬

jeong yunho x gn!reader

1.1k words, friends 2 friends who cuddle ?, one bed trope, fluff, humor, like two swear words cuz who am i without cursing, snuggling, consequences of yunho being Tall (implied that reader is shorter than yunho)

a/n: im sorry that this kinda sucks ass but yeah,, one bed trope :')

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'm going to hate this,” Jeong Yunho swore as his head poked up into the attic space, eyes wide in horror.

When the inn owners said that the attic was hardly an attic, they unfortunately were not exaggerating. It was close to a crawl space, with just enough room for you to stand up straight, and outfitted with an extra long twin bed, nightstand and lamp, a pillow, and two large sherpa wool blankets. The bed was fitted beneath the slope of the roof because the entire space wasn't even large enough to put the bed in the middle.

You were starting to sweat, and considering there wasn't even heating up here, you raced to calm your nerves. “It'll be fine,” you said with a small, anxious laugh.

Yunho moved his terrified eyes up to you. “Respectfully? I'm gonna go sleep in the storm.”

When he moved to descend the ladder, you slid on your knees to grab hold of his wrist. “Come on, big guy. It's one night.”

“Yn, what if I said I was claustrophobic, huh?” He whined, but reluctantly followed you all the way up the ladder and into the attic. He straightened—big mistake. You heard the loud thump as his head met the roof, and grimaced. “Oooow!”

You hissed and reached over to gently rub the place that began to smart when he leaned down. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whimpered. “Can I sleep in the lobby?”

Around ten minutes later, after many trials and tribulations and head bonks, you and Yunho somehow transferred your duffle bags up the ladder and into your glorified crawl space. They took up the space just beside the ladder and at the foot of the bed, and as you stared at said twin bed, you wondered if Yunho's legs would even fit on it.

Most likely not.

In fact, you were certain that two people couldn't even fit on the bed unless they were either on top of each other or packed together like sardines.

You reminded yourself that it was only going to be one night. This was what the two of you got for leaving five hours after everyone else, just to get caught in tonight's awful storm and stuck with the only “room” available for miles. In retrospect, it was your fault. Yunho had been generous enough in offering to stay behind with you until you finished your last exam.

“You can have the bed,” you told him as you were both crouched by your bags to grab clothes to sleep in. Despite your realization about your counterpart's long limbs and the bed's shortcomings, you wanted to extend an offer of chivalry.

Yunho twisted around and sent you an incredulous look. “What?”

“You drove us up here,” you replied with a shrug. You swiftly draped your sleep clothes over one arm and gathered your bag of toiletries in the other. “And you waited for me to finish my exam and you're kinda being dealt the short end of the stick with this room.”

He sat down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, and though his face was still pulled into the same expression, he laughed. “Yn, I hate to break it to you, but I think you're gonna fit better on that bed than I will.”

You pursed your lips, gazing over at the narrow slot on the floor between the other sloping roof and the bed. That was the only other place someone could sleep in this room. “I don't want you to sleep on the floor though.”

“I know I was complaining, but don't worry about it,” he reassured as he turned back to dig through his duffle. He flicked his wrist blindly in your direction. “You can wash up first; I'll set everything up.”

Since he left little to no room for argument, you resolved to do as he suggested. There was a community washroom on the floor below that you made your way toward. As unfortunate as your accommodation was for the night, you were eager to head back up and go to sleep. Yours and Yunho's friends were all waiting at Seonghwa's cabin already, and perhaps it wasn't just exhaustion that made you antsy for this night to get a move on.

You and Yunho just needed to get through tonight. It would be fine.

When you returned to the attic crawl space, Yunho had everything set up as he said he would. He'd found an extra set of sheets from one of the downstairs closets and laid it on the ground by the bed, then rationed one of the blankets for himself and the other for you on the bed.

You let out a tired sigh and trudged over to the bed to grab the pillow from where it rested on the headboard. You set the pillow instead at the head of Yunho's sleeping situation, then balled up one of your jackets to use as your own pillow. Once satisfied, you climbed into bed, and you were out like a light.

Everything was hazy as you emerged from deep sleep to confused half-consciousness. The room was descended into darkness, the sounds of light rain drumming steadily against the sloped rooftop above your head. Your brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton—why had you suddenly woken up?

Then you heard it.

“Achoo.” Then another one. And another one.

Even half dead, your brain could put two and two together. You rolled over slightly to wave your arm over the side of the bed, hand flapping around until you bumped Yunho's shoulder. “Hey, Yunho.”

Another sneeze.

“Yun, get your butt up here.”

He grunted. “'m fine.”

“You're gonna get sick,” you grumbled with your face half squished against your jacket zipper. That was definitely going to leave a mark in the morning. “Come up here, for fuck's sake.”

He made another noise, perhaps of acknowledgment, before you heard sounds of movement.

You kept your eyes half-lidded to keep as much light out as possible, and rolled over again. As he crawled onto his knees, and then his feet, you opened up your blanket to him so he could join you.

“Pillow,” he slurred—you whined when it hit you in the face. “Sorry.”

In a drowsy drugged tango, you swapped your jacket out for the pillow and Yunho wormed his way onto the bed beneath your blanket. You scooted as close to the wall as you could, but even then, Yunho was pressed flush against you. His arms came around your waist, his nose wedging itself between your neck and shoulder until he was comfortable.

“Your feet are cold,” you muttered. “Get them under the blanket.”

“Too tall.”

“Show off.”

He huffed out a puff of air against your neck like a laugh, then tucked his knees up slightly to fit under the blanket. Your legs were now tangled among his, your bodies curled tightly together. In the morning, you would rationalize it out as creating body heat to prevent either of you from getting sick.

When movement stopped, you voiced into the darkness, “Better?”

A content sigh. “Better.”

Maybe this accommodation wasn't so bad after all.

ateez m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

[forsworned]

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME ft. LOGAN WALKER

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Solo Sex (f.), Usage of Sex Toys, Voyeurism, AFAB!reader,

Author's note: @keegansshark because you inspired me!!!!

Being the Walker brother's third roommate is awfully quiet. In fact, half of your time here is spent apologizing about any ruckus you might be causing them whether it be your music, the loud clattering in the kitchen, or having a friend or two over. But they insist that it's fine. Giving you grand, boyish, heartthrob smiles that make you melt like a popsicle on a hot pavement.

Unlike Logan, Hesh is more outgoing, and talkative, and not staring you down from across the room when you're attempting to complete your work. He's asking you about your day, telling you to tag along with him and his brother when they go gyming and somehow is always sitting on the opposite end of the table when you're going out to eat, leaving you next to Logan every time.

And sometimes there's a sneaky, mischievous glance sent Logan's way followed by a pained expression that's stifled with laughter on his older's brother face.

But that was neither here nor there. However, upon finding out that the Walker brothers were going to spend the weekend out camping, you took it as an opportunity to be as noisy as you wanted. As much as you adored them, you felt relieved not having to walk on eggshells around them when it came to your sonorousness.

A deep exhale leaves your chest as your body hits your mattress. It had been a long week and you wanted nothing more than to unwind. Unfortunately, you didn't have a boyfriend to fuck your brains out so you settle for the vibrator in your locked drawer. You fish out the keys from your pocket and unlatch it. It wasn't a stellar collection of sex toys, more like just the essentials.

You decide upon your favorite, old reliable, first Eve's thruster and tug off your shorts and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side of your bed. It's a little depressing that you have to resort to such methods, but it was going to be a long weekend, so what better way to start it off then with some solo sex?

You turn it in and slowly work yourself up and the image of Logan flits into your mind. How good he would feel between your legs right now, filling you up with his cock and gazing down at you with those pretty hazel eyes of his. It's hardly been a few minutes before you feel yourself sopping at the mere notion of him touching you, and you're sliding the vibrator past your folds imagining that it's him inside of you.

His name spills from your lips over and over again, so sticky sweet, and delectable to the ears of any man if they had the pleasure of listening in on you.

So luckily for Logan, he's back at the apartment complex, fumbling with his keys to unlock the door after Hesh had forgotten to pack propane fuel. It isn't a huge deal, certainly not enough to sour his mood. An earnest mistake that Logan is more than willing to make up for for his older brother.

Too entranced by your own euphoria, you don't hear the door unlocking, nor it opening and the footsteps that follow, but Logan certainly hears your wanton breathy moans, reverberating into the hallways leading to the living room. He halts dead in his tracks and he's pondering about how he should approach the situation. He's thinking that maybe you happen to be watching a movie with a sex scene and it will pass at any moment. But it's past five minutes now and he's thinking otherwise.

His heart thuds against his chest as he stands there completely paralyzed, but his body isn't the only rigid thing. If it weren't obvious to you yet, Logan had a raging crush on you, and Hesh would be happy to take any opportunity to tease him about it. So the sound of you moaning is definitely getting him riled up. His eyes dart to the propane that sat on the kitchen island where stupid Hesh had left it and he's quietly making his way over to grab it and leave without alerting you, but then he hears you calling out his name. And then, again, and again and again.

As each passing second ticks by, the urgency in your whimpers intensifies, and Logan's legs seem to act autonomously, losing sight of their original purpose. He silently stalks to the ajar door of your bedroom and his eyes ream at your sopping, wet pussy out for display, hammering away at it with your hot pink, dildo that's thrusting into you. You're throwing your head back in pure rapture and his dick fully bricked up on sight. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, swallowing thickly as he absentmindedly palms at his dick.

It's so fucking wrong. And he's so aware of that, but it doesn't stop him from burning the image of you getting yourself off to him in his mind. His desire to step into the room is magnifying by the minute, but he holds himself back. The way your mouth is parting as you reach your climax is so, so, so delicious. The salacious sighs that escape you drive him wild and honestly, he could cum right now. It wouldn't even take long. One touch from that pretty mouth of yours and he would be coloring you a pretty, ivory white.

And just when you're about to orgasm, the creak of your door jostles you, stopping you mid-thrust and you could almost die when you see Logan's form leaning against the doorway. The blood drains from your face as you take in his unbuttoned jeans, undone zipper, and his hand slipping into his boxers. His hazel eyes might just be as wide as yours and the embarrassing sound of your machine is still going off and you practically rip it out of you, but your unexpected orgasm reels you in for a moment. It halts you as your bach archs and you gasp out in a fervent daze. It's humiliating as you gawk at your pulsating, drenched pussy in horror and you're scrambling to get up and somehow apologize??? But by the time you can even catch your breath to pull on your shorts, you hear the front door slam.

You make a dash for the window to see, Logan climb into Hesh's truck and they seem to be having a brief conversation before they're back on the road. The blood is rushing to your face as you watch them pull away. Oh God. What were you going to do!?

[nagaytoe]

Dry Leaves

Yandere X Reader

Tags/TWs: Stalking, kinda mental health issues?, violence, abduction, yandere is delusional (obv), y'all can insert anyone you want as the yandere

One of the Yandere Fall prompts by @snoopledrooplecheesedoodle inspired this fanfic, i wrote it specifically in a way that doesn't mention a certain character so anyone can feel free to insert whoever they want into the role of the yandere!

Word count: 990

——————————————————————

It's the middle of October; the trees grew more colorful and started losing their leaves, which are now scattered along the sidewalk and crunch underneath your boots as you make your way back home.

You look around the park you are currently walking through, since it's a shortcut to your apartment, and see a group of kids playing around in a heap of leaves. Their laughter fills your ears, despite the headphones you are wearing. They seem so careless, so innocent and they are, of course. How you wish you could go back to those times, back when your biggest issue was having to be in bed by 7 p.m. and not…that person.

However, those times are over, unfortunately. You quickly avert your gaze, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden; the hair on the back of your neck is standing up and goosebumps stretch over your skin. It might be cold, but not that cold, especially not since you're wearing a thick jacket and lined boots, the cause for the goosebumps is more likely something, or someone, else. A feeling all too familiar is washing over you: The feeling of being watched.

Picking up your pace, you quickly leave the park and try to get home as soon as possible. Who's to say that you can't finish a route that takes five minutes on average in two?

As you walk on the quiet sidewalk, with not a car in sight, and the song you are currently listening to ending you try to concentrate on the sounds surrounding you and sure enough:

You hear a second pair of footsteps behind you, leaves crunching under the person's feet.

As soon as you try to walk even faster, the person behind you picks up their pace as well.

For fucks sake…

Should you turn around? No, that's most likely not the smartest idea. The closest group of people you've seen so far were the kids just now and they won't be much help in case of an attack.

There's a cafe nearby, you could use a warm drink anyways and perhaps you'll be able to either get the person to stop trailing after you or to spot whoever is following you.

You stop in front of a small cafe you visit quite frequently and enter, not daring to look behind you just yet.

Walking up to the counter you already know what you want to order, the same as usual, as you look over to the door and scan the entryway, but there seems to be no one coming in after you. You sigh, feeling a little relieved, maybe you were just imagining things. The barista, however, doesn't fail to notice that you seem on edge.

“Is everything alright, Miss?”

Your gaze snaps back towards the woman in front of you. She seems to be around your age, with short, jet black hair and a few piercings gracing her pale face.

“Y-yeah…sorry, it's just… been a little stressful lately”

The bags under your eyes are dark, a telltale sign of the countless nights you stayed awake and failed to fall asleep, too scared that whoever keeps watching you lately will strike in the dead of night and have their way with you.

The barista smiles empathetically and hands you a small tray with your drink and something else in a small paper bag, causing you to look at her questioningly.

“A chocolate chip cookie,” she says. “On the house, of course. You seem like you need something sweet.” She adds quickly.

“Thank you.” You give her a warm smile and walk to a free spot in the back of the cafe. It's a table meant for two people: Two dark brown armchairs on each side of a mahogany wood table with a small lamp in the middle, illuminating the surrounding area in a warm light.

20 minutes have passed and you feel a lot calmer. You finished your drink, ate the cookie and feel ready to go, feeling almost silly as you think back to the events not even half an hour ago. It was probably nothing, you were just imagining things. The person behind you just happened to have to go into the same direction as you, right? Right.

You leave the cafe and continue your journey back home, inhaling deeply and feeling the cool air numbing your nose a little. The sun started setting, casting a warm light onto the street and the trees, making the colorful leaves shine even brighter. Your headphones blasted your favorite song and almost everything in the world feels alright again. There were no other incidents on your way home and you reached your apartment complex in no time, smiling to yourself a little.

You failed to notice the man behind you though, following you home and to your front door.

Standing in front of the door to your apartment and right before taking out the keys, someone grabbed you by the hair on the back of your head.

“You kept me waiting out in the cold, I'm sure you don't mind if I warm up a little in your apartment, right? After all, I still have to pack your things... Aren't you excited, darling?”

A deep voice whispers into your ear, as you are frozen in shock, before your head is slammed into the door.

Falling to the ground, you try to get a good look at your attacker and attempt to kick him, but to no avail. You were way too dizzy to cause him any harm and the mask and hood he was wearing made it impossible to get a glimpse at his features.

The last thing you hear before passing out is a chuckle along with some sinister sounding words.

“I hope you know I had no other choice, especially not after you always flirt with others, including that barista today. Surely you're well aware that infidelity is a sin, no?”

[stop-talking]

No thoughts, only Derek Danforth sending you nudes while you're at work...

(Thanks, Holden. 🙄) @freak-accident419

Tags: 18+ g!n reader, mentions of drugs, no real smut, just dirty talk and nudes

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

Your phone buzzes in your pocket for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is.

Who it always is.

With a sigh, you try and discreetly look at your phone underneath your desk. Opening messages from Derek while you're at work is always a gamble, considering he spends 90% of his time high, horny, or a mix of both.

As soon as you tap the notification, your screen is overtaken by cock. The tip red and glistening with need, his hand wrapped around the shaft, mid-pump...

Fuck.

You quickly turn your phone off, shoving it between your thighs and sitting up straighter. That bastard. He knows you're at work.

Of course, now he also knows you've opened his messages. Your phone vibrates angrily between your thighs, and you start to wonder if putting it there was a smart move.

Fucking Danforth. You try to physically shake the image of his throbbing cock out of your mind, literally shaking your head as you stare at the computer screen in front of you.

That is, until your co-worker in the cubicle across from yours shoots you a glance and asks if you're alright.

"Yeah, just, uh... Tired. Trying to stay awake."

You stand up straight, causing your still-buzzing phone to fall to the floor.

"I'm gonna go make a coffee," you announce.

In your scramble to pick up your phone, you knock your chair over and onto the floor. Damnit, stop making such a scene.

You scurry away, trying desperately to silence your phone. Unfortunately, the last thing you had pulled up was... well, cock.

With a yelp, you turn and duck into the nearest bathroom, praying no one saw your screen.

Once you finally have some level of privacy, standing in a cramped bathroom stall, you start to look over your 50+ notifications from Derek.

He's been sending you messages all afternoon, mostly nonsense texts, with nudes interspersed between them.

11am:

Babe? Baaaaabe. Babe I miss you Come home When is work over

12pm:

Are you ignoring me? Babe I got a new robe Do you wanna see Baby

[A short video of Derek in his robe]

He starts the video making a concerned face at the camera, muttering to himself. Once he realizes it's recording, he sets it down on the bathroom counter and takes a few steps back, showing off his robe.

It's green silk with gold trim, and a gold tie around the waist. He takes a hit of his vape and does a quick 360, twirling for the camera.

"You like it?" He asks, beaming and carding a hand through his blonde curls.

He stares at the camera for a minute, seemingly waiting for a response, before snapping out of it and reaching to turn it off.

"Sorry. Just smoked a few." he mumbles, and the video ends.

1pm:

Babeeeee I need youuu Come home already Come sit on my lap

[A picture of Derek's lap]

He's still wearing the robe, and his hand is wrapped around his hard cock through the thin silk fabric. No skin is showing, but you can clearly see the familiar outline of his dick.

2pm:

Fuck If you don't come home soon I'm dying asjkdakdjha skdjhfskjdh aksjdkadjs Baby Can I send you Pics Baby asdasjdghask It misses you

[A shakily-recorded video of Derek from the waist down.]

He tugs at the golden strip of silk tied around his waist, slowly unravelling the loose knot.

Eventually it completely falls away, and his rope opens, exposing himself completely for the camera. His dick is standing at attention, twitching and leaking pre-cum down his shaft.

The video pans to his face again, and he absentmindedly gnaws at the end of his vape. Sweat drips down his forehead and he mumbles out a plea you're unable to hear with your volume off. The video ends.

2:30pm:

Baby Oh my God I can't wait Come home Looking at your old pics again Miss you so muchh Fuck work I need you

[A short close-up video of Derek's cock]

He's in bed, his animal-print bedsheets peeking through his legs as he lies back and strokes his cock. Slowly, he bucks his hips up into his hand, clearly trying not to finish just yet. You recognize this as the video from earlier, the one you opened at your desk.

2:45pm:

YOU OPENED IT BABE ARE YOU IGNORING ME BABY I'm so hard right now Please Fuck Fuck Fuck I need you to sit on me Please asajshdas hdsjdhfahd asdasjdk sljkdfls Answer Please Babyyyy

You blink at your screen, finally reaching the bottom of Derek's endless sea of messages. Fuck. You really should be angry with him, but he's so goddamn hot when he's needy.

Not that he needs to know that.

Is this what you do all day while I'm at work? Get high and play dress-up?

FUCK Babe Don't go or I'll die Please

I still have two hours of work left, Derek.

You wouldn't need to work if you'd just move in with me already <3

Your house scares me. No one should be exposed to that much animal print.

I'll buy us a new one. Just come home, pleaseee?

This bastard. He isn't going to give up, is he? You glance at the time, and bite your lip. Maybe you could make up the two hours later? Work overtime this weekend?

Babe?

I'm here. Brat.

Are you on your way over?

Yeah. I'll be home in ten.

Suddenly you feel very, very sick. Too sick to work. You explain this to your boss, who shoos you off and tells you to go home.

One thought plays over and over in your mind as you pack your things and scurry to the car...

Derek better still be wearing that slutty little robe when you see him.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions of child abuse. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

Master List

Chapter Ten

You knew from the moment Billy left that there was nothing stopping you from going into the bathroom and removing your cum-stained panties. But you didn’t. In fact it only crossed your mind as a fleeting thought, not because you were scared Billy might find out and certainly not because you felt like you had to obey him, but for some other third, more nebulous reason.

As uncomfortable as you were, as much as you hated it, some part of you... enjoyed it.

It was that same strange and conflicting mix of emotions that you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him; that feeling that you weren’t supposed to enjoy rough sex as much as you had. Shame. That was it. You felt ashamed, but every time you thought about your panties, you remembered the way you’d felt, bent over the table and at his mercy. You remembered how good it had felt.

So, you didn’t remove your panties and you didn’t think twice about slipping into the bathroom after closing while Jenna emptied the cash register. 

It took you a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to stand in front of the mirror and pull up your skirt to snap a picture, though it took you a lot less time to grip your phone in such a way that you could flip him off in the process. When it was done and sent, you deleted the photo from your phone and, once again, found yourself glad that you still had Billy’s number blocked.

That feeling of conflict, of knowing how you should feel versus how you did feel, followed you home and had your stomach tying itself in knots when you thought about his other demand.

At first you told yourself that you wouldn’t call him, slipping out of your clothes and straight under a hot shower, but the longer you were left to think about, the more your stomach seemed to coil itself in knots. 

Did you want him to show up? Did you want to finish what you’d started with him earlier? 

No.

Yes.

Fuck.

Finally, you settled on calling him - but you were only going to allow it to ring three times before you hung up. If Billy missed the call, that was his own fault.

Unfortunately, he answered on the second ring, as if he’d been sat there all night, just waiting for your call.

“Hey,” he said, and you could almost hear his smile in his voice, “you get home safe?”

“Yeah,” you answered, wanting to keep things short and sweet.

“You’re late.”

There wasn’t any accusation of malice to it, it was just a statement of fact; the bar had closed almost an hour ago and you only lived a few blocks away.

“I needed to take a shower.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Billy said.

You were grateful that he held back his laughter, but you didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.

“How was your night?” He asked.

“Really? That’s really the game you want to play?” You said, unable to stop the irritation from filing your tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This - getting me to phone you, feeding your ego, thinking you can make me do whatever you want. I -”

“That’s not why I asked you to call.” He interrupted.

“You didn’t ask, Billy. You told me to. You threatened me.”

There was another few seconds of silence and then you heard a sigh from him.

“Fine, whatever, but that’s not why I wanted you to call me.”

“Then why?” You asked, barely biting back a sigh of your own.

“I wanted to know that you got home safe.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that strange feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach again, but you did your best to tamp it down. You were confused. More than that, you were still angry with him, even if you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reasons anymore. 

Because he kept pushing, kept taking you by surprise.

Because one minute he was sweet and gentle, and the next minute he left you wanting to strangle him.

“Why?”

“I told you. Because I care about you.”

The comment caused the feeling in your stomach to get worse.

“How can you care about me? You hardly know me...”

In the moment of silence that followed, you steeled yourself for whatever argument he’d try to make, hoping that you could finally take some control of the situation. 

“I’m trying to get to know you, kitten, but you’re not exactly making it easy,” he said. You remained silent, so Billy decided to push the matter. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You let out a forced and particularly loud sigh, sinking back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, not sure what you could tell him or if you even wanted to tell him anything at all. He’d been right earlier when he’d said you didn’t like honesty - you didn’t like anything that let people get too close.

The longer the silence dragged on, you knew you had to say something.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you felt the need to talk just to fill the silence and placate Billy, or if it was because you felt shitty for refusing to answer when he was making such an effort to get to know a little more about you.

You took a breath, not sure what you wanted to say until words started to pour from your mouth. And, by the time you realised what you were doing, it was too late to stop yourself.

“When I was twelve, my dad died. My mom had no money and there were debt collectors just waiting to take everything away, so she took my and my siblings back to her family home in Virginia.” You took a breath, stomach churning. “Her family was loaded but my mom had been cut off and taken out of the will for marrying my dad.”

Billy remained silent, as if he was hanging on your every word, so you continued.

“Our grandfather was a cruel old bastard - or so our mom told us. Her plan was to win him round, but she couldn’t do that with kids in tow. So, her and our grandmother hid us in the attic. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days while she fixed things with her father, but... we ended up stuck up there for three years, never allowed to leave the attic until we eventually managed to run away.”

You hated yourself as you finished speaking and, this time, allowed the silence to hang in the air. Billy let it linger for almost a minute before speaking again.

“Nice try, kitten, but that’s the plot to Flowers in the Attic.”

The worst part was that he didn’t even sound angry about catching you in another obvious lie. He just sounded resigned, almost hurt.

“You’ve read Flowers in the Attic?” You weren’t sure why that was the question you chose to ask. 

The feeling in your stomach continued to get worse, as if some part of you felt bad about lying to him and pushing him away. The worst part was you weren’t even sure why you did it, why you couldn’t just offer him some watered down version of your past, something that was true but only to a comfortable extent.

“What can I say? I’m a man of hidden depths.”

“Yeah?” You asked, doubling down on your course of action. “They have a lot of VC Andrews in the prison library.

“No, I came across a copy on base in Afghanistan,” he answered, pausing for a beat before; “... have you just been assuming I was an ex-con all this time?”

“Wouldn’t exactly be the only one to drink at Sam’s,” you offered, feeling a little silly at your assumptions. Military made more sense, though you supposed you’d only given fleeting consideration to him being an ex-con as yet another reason not to get close to him.

Again there was a silence and, then, another soft sigh.

“Why do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Lie like that?” When you didn’t answer he continued. “What is it about your past that has you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you said automatically, like a reflex kicking in. You weren’t weak. You weren’t going to let him think you were weak.

“Then why have the go-bag?”

You felt a chill run through your body when you thought about the backpack nestled in your wardrobe. You still hated that he’d seen it, that he understood what it was.

“It’s in case I need to get away from my stalker who spent weeks breaking into my apartment without my knowledge,” you answered coldly. 

“Cute, but I know it’s been there longer than that.”

He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask him to explain, already knowing you wouldn’t like any answer that he had to give you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he said softly after a few moments of quiet.

“I don’t need protecting, Billy. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He asked and you were sure his lips were pulling into a smirk on the other end of the call.

“I could kill someone if I had to.”

“Really?” His tone shifted and that hint of playfulness that you were used to started to creep back in.

“I’ve killed before,” you said casually, leaving him to guess if it was just another one of your lies.

“Did he deserve it?” Billy asked, not seeming at all bothered that you might potentially be a murderer.

“Who said it was a he?” 

“Educated guess. So, did he deserve it?”

“Yes.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

You heard the sharpness slipping back into his voice as he asked the question.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it.”

Your mouth felt dry and you could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, practically knocking against your ribs. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a response like that.

Again, there was a pregnant pause while you tried to think of what to say.

“Is it really that black and white for you?” You asked.

“No one who hurts you should ever get away with it,” he said, quickly adding; “but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve got me for that.

“Right...” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Honestly, you should have expected that answer from him.

“You never asked how I hurt my hand,” Billy said, seemingly changing the subject.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking the time to wonder if he was trying to set you up and walk you into a trap.

“How did you hurt your hand?” You finally, reluctantly, asked.

“I paid a visit to the guy that spiked your drink.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and a part of you worried that Billy could hear the way your heart was racing through the phone. Even though it had only been two days since it had happened, you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about what had almost happened.

And, now, you didn’t want to think about what Billy might have done to protect you.

“Is he -” you started to ask, words coming out as little more than a whisper.

You weren’t even entirely sure what you were asking and, worryingly, you weren’t sure what you wanted his answer to be. It was hard to care too much about the fate of someone who’d spiked your drink, someone who might have done it to other women before you and planned to do it to other women after you. He didn’t deserve any sympathy. 

But that didn’t mean you wanted Billy to be hurting people in your name.

“He’s still alive,” Billy answered. “He might be eating through a tube for a while and, if he’s lucky, he might walk again, but I don’t think he’s ever going to think about messing with someone’s drink again.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that sent a shiver down his spine and, when you didn’t respond immediately, Billy asked; “you okay, kitten?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “Besides, I couldn’t let him keep doing that to people. He needed to be stopped.”

There was that edge in his voice again, a pain that you were certain he didn’t realise gave so much away. Maybe it didn’t around other people, but to you it was a punch to your gut, a feeling of like recognising like.

“Someone hurt you,” you said softly. Again. 

All Billy offered was a grunt.

Another lull in the conversation had you rolling onto your side and letting out a sigh, the phone still clutched tightly to your ear - though when you’d started holding the phone like that, you honestly couldn’t say. Despite how you’d felt when you’d dialled his number, there was no part of you that wanted to hang up now.

Later you might blame it on exhaustion or loneliness, but right then, all you wanted to do was keep talking.

But Billy wasn’t saying anything and that left it to you to fill the void.

“When I was nine my mom started dating her dealer,” you offered quietly. “She moved us into his place. He used almost as much as my mom did, and when he was wasted...”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat, forcing you to stop.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy finally said.

“You said you wanted to know me.”

“I do, but not if it hurts you.”

Again, the butterflies took flight in your stomach, and the feeling was enough to prompt you to continue, to finally share a piece of you that was real.

“He was violent. With my mom and with me,” you continued, hearing the way Billy’s breath caught through the phone. “Then, one day, my mom went out and didn’t come back. She just upped and left me with him. About a week later, he got wasted and I... I hid from him in the basement.”

Billy didn’t say a word, you couldn’t even hear him breathing, but you could picture the look on his face; that expression of barely contained rage.

“When I refused to come out, he locked the door from the outside, and left me down there.” At some point your voice had turned quiet, almost like you were whispering a secret to Billy, something that you needed him to guard with his life. And, somehow, you knew that he would. “I was trapped down there in the dark and cold... with the spiders...”

You heard a sharp inhale.

“There was this sweet old lady across the street... if she hadn’t called social services, they never would have found me...”

“How long?” Billy dared to ask, though you knew that wasn’t really the question that he wanted to ask you.

“Four days,” you answered. “Felt like longer.”

You expected more questions, pity - or one of those perfunctory I’m sorry’s that those kinds of events tended to garner. Instead you were met with nothing but another gentle sigh.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for telling me. It means a lot to me.”

Despite being on the phone, your response was to nod, pressing your head further against your pillow.

“I should let you sleep,” Billy continued. “It’s getting late.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep soon.” He said and you were almost disappointed that he didn’t offer to come see you (though that thought was definitely one you’d chalk up exhaustion). “Goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

And, like that, the line went dead.

For the longest time after the end of the call you stared at your phone, some part of you expecting it to light up with a message or for him to call back, even though you knew you still had him blocked.

It was strange, you felt somehow lighter for having been honest with him, even if what you had told him had only been scratching the surface.

Falling asleep, you felt like things had finally reached a turning point.

But you had no idea just how right you’d turn out to be.

The next evening you arrived at the bar to find it mostly empty, save for a well dressed woman sitting at the bar, talking to Jenna. The suit she wore screamed law enforcement and the subtle look that Jenna flashed you confirmed it.

It wasn’t often that cops dared set foot in Sam’s, and it definitely explained why the place was so empty. But you and Jenna had dealt with this sort of situation before, and you knew exactly what to say. Or what no to say, as the case may be.

You took your time ditching your coat in the back before stepping out to start your shift and getting a proper look at her.

The moment her eyes lifted to meet yours and she cast you something of a forced smile, you changed your mind. Definitely not a cop. Her clothes alone looked like they were worth more than you made in a year. And she was - well, stunning was the first word to come to mind. 

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she said, flashing you her ID before placing it in her pocket again.

You offered your name. Just your first name.

“What can we help you with?” You dared to ask, ignoring the roiling sensation in your stomach.

“Yeah, no offence, but having a cop sat at the bar isn’t exactly good for business,” Jenna added.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, lifting her phone from the bar and bringing up a photograph. “Have you seen this man? His name is Billy Russo. There have been reports placing him in the area.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at the photo; it was him, but it wasn’t. Those dark eyes were unmistakable but his hair... his face. The man in the photo was every bit as beautiful as you’d assumed Billy used to be when you’d first gotten a good look at him.

Without the scars he had been perfect but, somehow, you found you preferred your Billy more. There was something about the eyes; the man in the picture looked soulless, but your Billy... his eyes gave away so much.

Despite your shock, your face remained neutral.

You spared Jenna a glance and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in here, but we get a lot of people passing through.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agreed, taking a closer look at the phone. “Though I’d remember serving someone that hot. What did he do? Looks like one of those Wall Street guys...”

“He’s wanted in relation to several murders,” Madani stated,  and you damn near threw up in your mouth.

“Several murders? Is he a serial killer or something?” Jenna asked, keeping Madani’s attention away from you while you regained your poker face.

“No, not as such...” she shook her head, dropping her phone back into her pocket and placing a business card on the bar. “But if he comes in -”

“Is he dangerous?” You asked before she could finish.

“Extremely.”

“If we see him, we’ll be sure to call,” Jenna was quick to answer.

There were more words exchanged and you simply nodded along, feeling like you were spiralling into some dark abyss that you might never escape from. The Homeland agent kept glancing between you and Jenna but, if she noticed you were freaking out, she didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, neither you nor Jenna spoke for at least a minute.

“Fuck,” Jenna said, “you don’t think -”

“No,” the word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about it. “No, it - I mean... she must be wrong. He couldn’t...”

“Wow, not like you to jump to his defence.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on her lips, instead focusing on the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

It felt wrong, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. You’d always assumed that Billy was dangerous, that he could hurt people if he wanted to - hell, he’d put someone in the hospital for spiking your drink - but murder? Murders, plural?

“It’s just... you don’t think he’s -”

“A serial killer? I doubt it... unless he’s really good at hiding how much of a psycho he is,” Jenna answered.

Ah. That was it. Billy was good at hiding it, at pretending to be some sweet and charming guy to everyone while simultaneously stalking you.

“But, look... maybe you should stay away from him until we know for sure?” She carried on, and you nodded.

Jenna was talking, saying something, and you barely even realised you were stepping back.

“I... I need to -”

You didn’t even finish the thought before heading into the back and pulling out your phone, calling Billy. As it rang, you steeled yourself for him to answer and for all the questions to start pouring out. Part of you felt betrayed, lied to, while another part just couldn’t accept anything that Madani had tried to tell you.

It felt like you were falling, like you’d been hanging off the side of a cliff for so long, looking for something stable to cling to. The last few days had made you dare to think that maybe Billy could be that for you. But, now, the rockface was crumbling beneath your hands and you were falling.

“Kitten?” 

His voice was a dry rasp, like he’d just woken up, and just hearing him again had your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“You - you can’t come to the bar anymore, Billy. It’s not safe for anyone and I just think -”

“What? Kitten, slow -”

“There was a Homeland Agent at the bar. She was looking for you,” you tried to explain, word fast and frantic, almost running into one another. “She said you killed people, Billy. She’s looking for you, and we can’t -”

“Hey-hey, take a breath.”

You did as you were told but it didn’t help. Your heart continued to pound wildly in your chest while you struggled between what you thought you knew about Billy and what the Homeland Agent had told you.

Was he capable of murder?

Yes.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Billy could and would kill someone if he had reason to. That alone should have been enough to make you end the call, enough to go home, grab your bag and leave the city. But, really, were you in any position to judge him?

“Tell me what happened,” Billy said, breaking through your racing thoughts.

There wasn’t much to tell really, just that the Homeland Agent had been there and she’d told you and Jenna that Billy was a killer, that he was dangerous. But you also made sure to tell him that you and Jenna hadn’t said a word - though you had no idea why that piece of information felt so important to share.

Then came the pregnant pause, the silence that you couldn’t stand.

“Did you do it? Was she telling the truth?” You asked in little more than a whisper, not sure you even wanted an answer.

“I...” he trailed off into an uncomfortable sigh, “I don’t know. I still don’t remember.”

You nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t me or that I had a good reason but I don’t remember,” he continued. “Fuck. I wish I remembered, just so I knew, just so...”

“I... I think you should stay away from me, Billy.”

“Kitten...”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to stay away, how many times you’d told him to leave you alone but this was the only time you’d heard him sound so broken about it, like your words had finally hit home. Just hearing the pain in your voice had you wanting to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn’t.

“Even if you didn’t do it, I... I can’t have cops - or Homeland Agents - sniffing around,” you said, and there was no hiding the way your own voice seemed to want to break and betray you.

Billy paused and you dared to hope that he was actually thinking about what you’d just said, thinking about how he could ruin your life if he persisted. 

“I can’t,” he said softly, “please... don’t ask me to give you up.”

“You said you wanted to keep me safe. You being around me, bringing law enforcement to the bar - that puts me in danger.”

Silence fell again and you heard Billy take a ragged inhale and it reminded you of the panic attack that you’d witnessed him having, and it made your heart ache all the more.

“I can’t,” he said again. “I won’t. I’m sorry, kitten. I won’t let any of it come back on you, but I can’t let you go.”

“Billy -”

The line went dead.

He’d hung up on you.

You felt sick and you spent the rest of the night feeling like your stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots. Of course, Jenna noticed and tried to talk to you about it, tried to help convince you that it was probably for the best if you didn’t see him again until everything blew over. If it ever blew over. But all you could think about was Billy and how he’d sounded on the phone.

Jenna tried to convince you not to worry and that, one way or another, the truth was bound to come out.

There were so many questions and thoughts, but no answers to be found. If he didn’t remember, was he even the same person who’d done it? Was it fair to blame him for things he couldn’t remember? Were you in any position to judge him? Is that why he’d been hurt so badly by a man who’d been his best friend?

Each question only brought with it more uncertainty, and you had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. All you knew was Billy, the person he was when he was with you.

Jenna offered to let you stay with her that night but you turned her down, not wanting to spend the night being scrutinised every time you mind wandered to Billy and the chaos you’d invited into your life.

No, you just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, hoping that in the morning everything would be back to normal.

Some time around four a knock at the door startled you awake.

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, staring at the door, your heart beating a mile a minute. For a second you expected the door to be knocked off its hinges and for armed cops to swarm your apartment.

The second knock had you tensing, ready to grab your go-bag and make a break for it down the fire escape.

But then you heard him.

“Kitten, it’s me.”

It didn’t exactly make you feel any better that Billy was at your door at four in the morning, but you still let out a sigh of relief. You kept the chain on the door as you opened it and heard him sigh.

“Let me in, kitten.” It wasn’t quite a demand but you already knew that saying no wouldn’t end well.

“It’s four in the morning,” you said, not moving. “What do you want, Billy?”

“I want to see you.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you answered back.

“Just let me in before I kick the door down and disturb all your neighbours,” he said. As firm as his demand was, he sounded tired but, given the time of night, you didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t just an idle threat, you knew him better than that now, and you couldn’t risk your neighbours calling the cops. So, with a frustrated huff, you took the chain off the door and took a few steps back, making sure there was plenty of space between you and him.  

His movements were slow, closing the door and locking it behind him. He looked tired, exhausted, and it was almost enough to spark a hint of sympathy inside you. 

Billy immediately took a step towards you, unhappy with the space you’d created, his eyes taking in the sight of you and the light blue satin slip you were wearing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “you’re gonna drive me crazy, kitten.”

“What do you want, Billy?” You asked again, folding your arms in an attempt to cover the way your nipples were poking through the silken fabric. “I told you... you need to stay away from me.”

“I can’t. I needed to see you.”

“It’s four in the morning. What could you possibly want to see me for?”

“I -” there was a noticeable hesitation, something you’d never really seen from him before, “- I want to stay the night. With you.”

“No,” you answered flatly. “No, I’ve told you, I don’t want -”

“Just to sleep,” he interrupted before you could complete your rejection of him. “I just want to sleep next to you.”

“Billy, they think you’re a murderer,” you said, hugging yourself all the tighter. 

“I don’t remember,” he told you, equal parts frustration and pain. “I don’t know what I did or why I might’ve done it. All I know is that I’d never hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing you could say. There was no figuring out the truth of the matter and, if there was one thing you did believe, it was that Billy wouldn’t lie to you and he’d never hurt you.

“Please,” he tried again, “I’m... I’m so tired, kitten. If I knew about any of it, I’d tell you. But it’s all still jumbled up. And I - I don’t even know if I’m that person anymore. This - me, now - I’ve never been like this before. That Agent, Madani, I think we used to sleep together... she used to visit me in the hospital, used to taunt me every single day... I don’t know why.”

The more he spoke, the more confused things became, but Billy made no attempt to move any closer to you.

“I just want to sleep,” he said again.

Common sense told you to say no, to stick to your guns and tell him to leave but, seeing the state of him, the thought of turning him away made your chest ache regardless of all the uncertainty surrounding him. Without a word, you sighed and turned back towards your bedroom, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over your face.

You heard him slowly follow after, heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor before you felt the mattress dip behind you. Billy waited a moment before shifting closer, pressing himself against your back and draping his arm over you. He let out a soft sigh as he buried his face against the back of your neck.

He felt warm against you, cosy - though you tried to ignore it as best you could.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked quietly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“No, I mean why are you doing any of this?” The million dollar question. “Why me? Why are you dragging me into this shit, Billy?”

“Because you’ve been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you,” he told you, his fingers softly tracing patterns on your stomach through your slip. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about that night in this bed with you. You’re under my skin, you haunt me.”

“It wasn’t that mind blowing,” you muttered.

“Right,” Billy grumbled, sounding half-asleep already “‘cause you still want to pretend that I’m the only one that enjoyed it...”

“Why would I lie?” You answered back, not willing to give him the last word.

“‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you like the way I touch you,” he answered. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you might actually like me.”

“I don’t like you. All you’re doing is making my life more difficult,” you huffed. “I must be fucking crazy to have you in my bed like this, not knowing if you’re some psychotic killer...”

You didn’t expect him to pull away, to roll on to his back behind you and let out a sigh. More than that, you didn’t expect to feel the loss of his embrace so acutely.

Had you managed to hurt your stalker’s feelings?

And why did it bother you if you had?

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you tried to ignore the feeling of awkwardness that was starting to gnaw at you, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew he was right there, not when you didn’t know what was running through his mind.

You weren’t even sure what was running through your own head anymore. It was almost enough to make you laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was; you had a man who was wanted for murder in your bed but, still, you felt safe with him, comfortable in a way you hadn’t for a long time, despite what your protests might have suggested.

And he was right. You were scared that some part of you liked him - that some part of you still liked him, even after everything you’d learned.

It was all such a fucking mess and you had no idea how to deal with any of it.

But, now there was something, some feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt so wrong but, at the same time, it felt like it was the only thing in your life that made any sense. 

Cautiously, you rolled over, your heart skipping a beat at the way the heel of his palm was pressed against his eye. It was another headache. He’d come to be with you because he was in pain, because he’d needed comfort and, for whatever reason, you were the only person he thought he could find it with.

Everything you knew about him seemed to twist and alter, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Without a word, you got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, running a washcloth under the cold water before returning to him.

Billy hadn’t moved, he didn’t even look at you as you climbed back into bed beside him. His eyes didn’t open again until he felt you press the cold cloth to his brow. A relieved breath slipped from his lips but, the moment he looked like he was going to say something, you silenced him.

“Don’t say a word.”

Defiance flashed across his face, but exhaustion quickly overtook it. His eyes shut and you continued to gently press the cloth against his forehead, trying to soothe him, watching as the tension slowly seemed to leave him and he fell asleep. 

Once you were certain he was asleep, you laid back down beside him, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, not sure what the morning would bring.

End Note : 😅 this is slowly starting to move towards the endgame now, I think there's about four chapters left? Maybe five depending on how I decide to do the ending.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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[edablair]

Hi!! Just silly little thing with Logan (⁠⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

(English is not my first language! There may be grammatical or/and punctuation mistakes)

.•★•.

"No fucking way."

"Logan, please!"

★ The school mansion wasn't boring: there was something going on almost every day. But you missed the hustle and bustle of the city. And you also wanted to go shopping to satisfy your almost claptomaniacal nature.

"I don't need ballast."

★ He often went back and forth, stealing borrowing Scott's bike. You, on the other hand, couldn't drive. That's why you had to beg Logan to take you with him.

"Please? Pretty please?"

"Don't try my patience."

"I'll pay for the gas."

His mouth opened as he wanted to say something in protest, but the words didn't leave his lips. After thinking for a few moments, he noisily let the air out through his nose.

"Five minutes. If I don't see you at the mansion door, I'll leave without you."

★ The sound of the road and wind filled your ears as you both raced down the highway. Logan's body tilted forward against the handlebars as you held onto the back of the bike. He insisted you wear the helmet that came with the bike. And it was the only one. He didn't need it anyway, for obvious reasons, but you were unfortunately not lacking in the quick regeneration ability.

★ Logan was driving fast, overtaking many cars. And you loved that feeling of speed. The way everything around you blurred with how fast the two of you were going. A thought crossed your mind. Dangerous and a bit childish. You slowly let go of the part of the bike you were holding onto and spread your arms out to your sides. The corners of your lips lifted in a smile as the bike tilted slightly from side to side, overtaking another car.

★ Your action was cut short by the bump the bike hit. You nearly flew off the seat, quickly grabbing onto Logan.

"Hold the fuck on!" Because of the wind, you could barely make out his words.

Your arms wrapped tightly around Logan's body. Out of harm's way.

★ "Pull anything like that again and I won't take you with me anymore." He muttered as you stopped for gas.

(Masterlist)

[froggywritesstuff]

dysphoria | angel dust

ship/pairing: Angel dust x trans!male!reader (reader has a uterus and still gets his period)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: Can I request Angel Dust comforting his trans boyfriend when he gets his period and is extremely dysphoric and depressed about the whole thing. This whole week has been a shit fest of dysphoria and crying.

warnings: maybe ooc idk , I didn't clarify in my writing but first confession of love i guess, periods, gender dysphoria, swearing, crying, emotional breakdowns, petnames (reader gets called baby), rushed ending, bad sex joke

word count: 758

A/N: sorry this is really short i have zero motivation to do anything 👍 fem and cis readers dni

You didn’t even need to tell Angel what was happening, nor did he need to ask. The second he saw your face contorted into one of discomfort, he was all over you. He hung up a dozen ‘do not disturb’ signs on your hotel room door (though it was basically a shared room at that point), prepared to verbally or physically attack anyone trying to disturb you. Before you could even mention cramps he had a heat pack fresh out the microwave for you, checking every five minutes if it was still warm or if you wanted it reheated. He would cuddle you tightly, him and Fat Nuggets doing their very best to cheer you up. Angel showed how much he truly cared for you. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend than him. However you felt nothing he could do would make the dysphoria you felt go away. He’s an amazing boyfriend but unfortunately he can’t stop your period or give you a dick. (he could do the second one if you asked him nicely)

”Ok I think this is all the chocolate in the entire hotel, I refilled your water, and I got you some of those snacks you like.” Angel listed as he sat on the bed beside you, dumping the food in your lap before readjusting the pillows wedged between your head and the wall, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

”Ange, you didn’t have to do all that.” you mumbled despite knowing it was pointless and he would continue to insist on helping you. 

He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “I told you it’s fine. I want nothin’ more than for you to be happy.”

You lazily snuggled up to him. Dealing with your period and the gender dysphoria that tagged along with it tended to drain your energy, "Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me with this."

Angel's arm snaked around your waist, holding you close to him, "Of course baby. But of the list of things I'd do for you, this is pretty mild. If your period was a person I swear I'd fuck 'em up real bad. Make 'em regret ever makin' you feel this way."

You couldn’t tell if it was just your hormones going batshit or not, but Angel’s words had you burst into tears. You quickly buried your face in the crook of his neck as he pulled you into a tight but comfortable hug.

”You’re ok babe, I’ve got you, just let it out,” his whispers comforted you as his hand gently rubbed up and down your back soothingly, not even caring that your tears were staining his shirt. 

Shaky breaths left your lips as you cried, “I'm grateful you're helping me. But I hate this. I hate my body. I hate it so fucking much.” your voice cracked as more tears rushed down your face. Angel was quick to pull out of the hug and cup your face, his eyes on you as his thumb caressed your cheeks. “It’s not fair.”

Tears brimmed Angel’s eyes, his heart breaking at your words, “I know baby. And you're right, it’s not fair. And you don’t deserve to feel this way one bit.” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “You hear me?" you gave a small nod as his thumb wiped away your tears, "And you're not your body. You're the hottest, the funniest, the kindest, the strongest, and the most handsome - yeah you're the most handsome and hottest man I’ve ever met, who also happens to be the best boyfriend in the world. And I wanna do anythin' to help you with this pain."

A small smile grew on your lips as you listened to him. He was so genuine and sincere, a big contrast to his usual sarcastic and snarky demeanour. On a day you felt like dying only he could make you feel like living, "I love you. So much."

He smiled ear to ear, feeling his heart swell at your words, "I love you too baby." he handed you one of the snacks he had brought, "Do you wanna eat something? And then you can talk more about what's botherin' you, or we can watch movies, or we can just nap. Whatever you wanna do."

You nodded, taking a bite of the snack, "That sounds good." Angel shifted on the bed so he was beside you again, one arm around your shoulders, while the other wiped your remaining tears.

[kitchenisking]

April Fic Rec

Hello everyone! happy spring! I just want to say thank you to everyone who enjoys my recs. I was thinking of taking a break from posting the last two months but then I thought 'fuck it'. the response that I got from you guys showed me how much my recs are enjoyed! so to everyone that reblog and likes the recs - I see you! I see your names pop up every months and it brings me such joy! and to all the new follower - it makes me happy that new people are finding my recs and are enjoying these amazing stories written by these amazing authors!

please don't forget to kudos and comment for our authors and ill see you soon😘

Knot My Favorite Smell by KnottheWolf - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,470, sterek)

Day 1-Scent Marking: Derek just missed his mate, Stiles, so he decides to visit Stiles at college. Only to grow upset when his mate’s room doesn’t smell like him anymore.

Just Stopped Working For Me by dedougal - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,447, sterek)

Stiles never expected to meet Derek Hale. He definitely never expected the movie star to slide into his cab and ask for his help.

Clueless by IgnorantofTime - (Rating: G, Words: 1,775, sterek)

Scott comes to the realisation that his best friend is in love with Derek Hale. Now he just needs to make them realise it.

an awful curse by blinkiesays - (Rating: T, Words: 6,253, sterek)

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

"That’s fate." by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 2,256, sterek)

…the one where Stiles meets his future husband.

That I Miss You by Noname109 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,741, sterek)

The pounding of the water against the tenseness of his muscles makes Stiles let out a long, drawn out groan of pain and pleasure. After a hard day’s work, the proof of it is shown in the coil and rigidity of his shoulders, torso, and legs. 

And it’s not like he doesn’t love interning under his dad and getting to help out solving crimes and chasing down the bad guys, but at the end of his shift it leaves him gone to the world unless it involves a shower.

He’s so relaxed five minutes into it that he doesn’t even jump when two arms snake around his waist. Stiles just hums contentedly and lets his body go slack.

Things We Know, Unsaid by uraneia - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,036, sterek)

Inspired by this Tumblr post, and written for lupinus's birthday.

Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

*

If he thought Derek would be angry or embarrassed at Stiles finding a trunk full of quality BDSM gear in his closet, he’d have been wrong. “I used to do it professionally, in New York,” Derek says easily, and Stiles—Stiles doesn’t know how to process that. Because he’s seventeen and has eyes and an unfortunately vivid imagination, and if he lets it go there he’s not going to get any use out of any body part except his dick for several hours.

Cravings, Pack and Angry Sex by Jumping_Jess - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,953, sterek)

It's a Pavlov response okay?! Pregnant Stiles + Angry Stiles = Horny Derek

Little Red Prince by SterlingAg - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 48,974, sterek)

Running from a group of bandits, Stiles finds himself injured and on the land of none other than the Shifter Derek Hale. But what is a Shifter? Is this Derek a friend or foe? What about the secret Stiles himself is keeping? What will become of the odd pair in this tale set in a fantasy world?

Basketball Shorts and Highlighters by sffan - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,720, sterek)

The UST between Derek and Stiles finally reaches a tipping point.

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you do a sfw (or NSFW if you want) if Smoke and reader having an argument and Smoke tries to make things right with the reader?

A/N: oh absolutely I will! Also mentions of JohnShi and RaiLao!! (We stan MK1 ships here)

Warnings: pretty much chill except a few harsh words

A Little Smokey

Tomas, you, Hanzo, Kuai Liang, and Harumi were spending the hot summer afternoon on the training floor of the building, as it was the only room with no walls and a roof over with shade. Kuai wasn’t having it, being that he was burning both on the outside and on the inside. Tomas was dying from the heat as well, both him and Hanzo on the other side of the room to stay away from Kuai’s heat. This was bad even for you, and having Bi Han around would make it easier but sadly no, he’d gone rouge and left you all behind to work with Shang Tsung. The heat was bad today, the five of you practically out of commission for today. Even Liu Kang wasn’t having fun either, he and Geras were burning up too.

“What I would give to find a giant pool of water right now.” You spoke out loud

“Yeah I’d feel so much better and not like I’m burning inside.” Kuai added

“Hold on I have an idea!” You hear Raiden say from a distance away

“What is it?” Tomas asked

“Let’s go ask Johnny if we can use his pool! He’s always saying we can use it since he’s almost always never around.”

“Fuck it I’m in.” You answered sitting up speed walking to Raiden and Kung Lao

“Me too.” Kaui added as he got up and sprinted over with Harumi behind him

“Alright fuck it we need an off day.” Tomas replied

And sooooo…

It took a little time to get to Johnny’s place, with the group also trying to see if Kenshi wanted to go as well. Unfortunately they couldn’t find him, so they resorted to going anyways.

“Ah yes finally free cooling!” You cheered as you, Kung Lao, Raiden, and Tomas went running through the door and into Johnny’s open door

“Oh hey guys I heard you-“

You four didn’t get far, crashing into someone a little ways into the house and falling to the floor. You fell on Tomas while Raiden and Kung Lao rolled to the side but right on top of each other. To your surprise, it was Kenshi, swearing a pair of white swim trunks patterned with pineapples, no shirt while having dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Kenshi” You shouted

You shot up from Tomas’ grip, going to hug Kenshi since it’s been awhile since you two interacted at all.

“Hello Y/n it’s good to see you too. I see you brought the whole team.”

He gently elbowed your side, noticing he was looking in the direction of who was at the door.

“So let me guess… it’s Raiden, Kung Lao, Y/n, Tomas, Kuai, Harumi, and Lord Liu Kang.”

“Good guess my friend you know us all too well.” Kuai responded back to Kenshi

It took a few minutes for everyone to get their clothes off, most of the boys just walking around shirtless with some sort of shorts on. You could see Harumi gawking at her husband Kuai, and you felt the same about another brother of the Shirai Ryu.

“Hey Y/n come on! You’re so slow!” Kung Lao shouted

“Cannonball!” Both you and Raiden shouted as you both ran to the edge of the pool before jumping in

“Incoming!” Johnny shouted as him, Kenshi, and Hanzo jumped right on top of you both

Almost everyone was in, except Harumi, Kuai, and Tomas. You couldn’t see what they were doing very well or hear what they were saying but it seemed like Tomas was nervous and asking a question. What you didn’t know at all was that Tomas was asking questions, about you.

“Just go to her and say ‘I like you’ to Y/n. That’s all you gotta do!”

“But-“

“Your brother is right Tomas you just have to say those three words to her and she’ll fall on her knees for you.”

“And what makes you so sure she will?”

“Just trust us.”

And so Tomas bid Kuai and his wife a quick farewell before slowly walking to the edge of the pool, quickly spotting you in the middle with Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi around you like they were fawning over you. It made him frustrated, after all he did like you but it was a pain to deal with four different guys at your feet as well.

“Y/n!” He shouted

You quickly looked behind you, spotting the handsome assassin looking right at you from outside the pool. You quickly swam over and pulled yourself out of the pool, standing in front of the grey haired man you admired.

“Can we talk over there?” He asked pointing to an open area behind him a few feet away

“Sure!”

You followed him to the spot, your eyes drifting to his ripped chest and bulky arms. He was attractive, and your eyes couldn’t stop staring at all of him. However, his attitude quickly turned when you didn’t expect it too.

“What are you doing with those four?” He grumbled

“They’re my friends Tomas I like talking to them and joking around with them.”

“Well I don’t.”

Where was this coming from? You’ve never known Tomas Vrbada to have clashing personalities with anyone else in the Shirai Ryu… well except Johnny. Yes he was Tomas’ favorite actor and Johnny’s even asked Tomas to star in things with him, but there are times where Johnny oversteps like he did before with Kitana and her sister Mileena some odd months ago.

“So?”

“So? I know for a fact Johnny and Kung Lao will try for any girl within ten feet of them, while Kenshi and Raiden will get to you slowly, hoping you slip one day.”

“And we’re just friends! What wrong with that?”

Now you were confused and annoyed, you’ve always been friendly with the champions of Earthrealm long before you realized you’d have feelings for Tomas. Were those feelings a lie now? This wasn’t normal of Tomas, to be angry and annoyed with someone.

“What’s wrong with it? Y/n the four of them like you why else would they always be around you?!”

“For your information Tomas they don’t. I know that for a fact, and there’s no reason to speculate it. Why are you mad about it? You know I don’t like them either! I like you!”

Before Tomas could even react, you started to turn and walk away.

“Wait Y/n!”

Tomas shot an arm out, holding onto your wrist as you both stared at each other.

“You like me?” Tomas asked

Oops. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Yeah?”

“I-I thought that-“

“Tomas how blind are you?”

“What?”

He let you go, and you smacked yourself in the face with your hand. Oh so Tomas wasn’t as observant to other relationships as well as he said he was.

“Tomas… oh my god.”

“What? What’d I do?!”

“You are so clueless.”

“To what? What’d I miss? Clearly they like being near you cause you’re a girl!”

How were you gonna say this since Tomas’ perception of a “relationship” was a boy and girl… but that was not the case with the four guys you were both talking about.

“Tomas… Kenshi is in a relationship with Johnny and Raiden is with Kung Lao.”

The weight of his own stupid assumptions hit Tomas in the face. Well, there went his bragging rights of saying he knows everyone and everything about everyone there.

“Okay… I see… my bad.” He answered covering his face with his hands

Poor Tomas had just been hit with the classic “the four guys are gay and the girl is actually not any of their crushes”.

“I am so dumb aren’t I?”

“Yes you are Tommy.”

“H-Hey! Don’t call me that in front of others!”

You just laughed, even though you felt a little hurt at Tomas’ blind views of how you felt about him and your friends.

“How can I ever repay you back?” Tomas asked moving his hands away from his face

“You don’t have to Tomas. Just know it’s always you.”

He smiled, feeling heat in his cheeks as you went and grabbed both of his hands in yours.

“I feel bad and I want to fix what I said.”

“You don’t have to. We both messed up in this situation, I should’ve told you a while ago when the boys came out of the closet.”

Tomas held back a laugh. You felt better knowing you made Tomas smile and laugh, forgetting about your small disagreement from earlier. You didn’t regret telling Tomas your feelings, not one bit.

“Ready to cool off?”

Tomas held your hand in his, taking a step past you to bring you both back to the others. You heard someone go “called it” and someone else add “Johnny” in the crowd of your friends. Kuai Liang and Harumi were smiling at you, Kuai holding in what seemed like a perfect joke.

“About time brother.”

“I hope it went well?”

“It went just perfectly.” You joked

And so Tomas and yourself walked over to the edge of the pool, right before Tomas grabbed your waist and jumped in with you. You could feel his grip on you even under the water, you knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. You both came up for air, Tomas shaking his head to get the water out of his short grey hair, while you pulled back your hair. He treaded water next to you, smiling as his grip got a little lighter. His smile was wide, quickly looking to the four boys mentioned earlier and sighing.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

The end…

[ham-st4r]

𝓦𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓟𝓽.2 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, mature content, no smut, bold is texting, green text is sunoo.

Genre: fuck buddies-ish, toxic relationship. little bit of comedy.

Summary: After you promised yourself you’d never contact heeseung again, you stayed true to your word, but, all of a sudden, he’s showing up out of nowhere at your apartment, but why?

Number of words: 3k+ I’ll update Masterlist and word count tomorrow.

Trying something new with this story, so please bear with me here’s pt.2 of wasted time I hope you all enjoy.

Find your way around!

Pt.1 Pt.3

“Come over,” Heeseung texted you a couple of days after your last hook up.

It was nearing four in the morning, and he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep, so he texted you to come over. He knew if he had a quick little session with you, that’d be more than enough to make him sleepy.

He kept his messages open cause he knew you’d be replying as soon as you got his text. You always did.

Little did he know you were on the opposite end, chuckling dryly at the recent text he had sent to you.

If that was a few days ago, you would have already been out of the house to go take care of him, but you promised yourself you were done with him, and you weren’t going to take that promise back just so he could get his dick wet and his ego boosted.

He waited about a minute or so, but you still hadn’t replied. “Hmmm,” he hummed in thought, wondering what was taking you so long to reply after the first three minutes had passed.

“Are you awake?” He double-texted you, and still no reply.

“She must be asleep,” he said to himself and tossed his phone on the bed next to him.

He looked down at his length that was straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he let out a loud groan, out of all nights. Why did you have to be asleep? He needed to feel you so bad right now.

He placed his palm over his shaft, lightly stroking it the way you always did before you gave him head. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine that you were lying between his legs, tracing your skillful fingers over his cock. Still, that image was hard to achieve when there was a huge difference between the feeling of your delicate touch compared to his rough eager one. Still, he tried to cause. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be coming over to see him tonight. “Y/n,” he whispered your name as he circled his tip over the fabric, and that’s when he realized it just wasn’t going to work out, and he felt utterly ridiculous after trying to emulate you. “Why is she asleep?” He whined and flailed in his bed like a baby.

He cut his temper tantrum short, and despite not hearing his phone go off, he still checked just in case you might have left a message, but there was none.

He sighed loudly and got out of bed, going to take a cold shower to get rid of his not-so-little problem down there.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

-

Even though he had no luck last night, he knew you were always free on Saturday nights, so there wasn’t a chance you’d be asleep, especially when it was only ten.

“Come over,” he sent the same repetitive text to you. He dropped his phone on his bed and rid himself of his clothing, getting ready for you when you came over.

Five minutes later, and he was starting to get agitated. It’s not like you had friends or anything going on, so why were you acting like you didn’t want his dick all of a sudden.

An idea popped into his head. You always came over faster when he sent you pictures of himself, so he opened the camera in his phone and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, showing a little more than the base of his cock to tease you and make you want him even more.

He took another one squeezing the outline of his cock and showing the protruding veins through the boxers he had on. There’s no way you could resist him after seeing those.

He sent them and set his phone down to the side, just waiting for your arrival.

-

The club music was far too loud, and you were way too drunk to even pay attention to your buzzing phone on the table as you held your throbbing head in your hands.

You were out with your best friend Sunoo, enjoying the weekend while he was in town, and it was definitely the most fun you’ve had in a while, especially when you weren’t planning your day around that thing that called himself heeseung.

You both drank a little too much and danced way too hard, but you didn’t regret a single ounce of it.

Well, until right now when you felt like you were going to pass out any minute. “Your phone is b-buzzing like crazy,” sunoo yelled to you over the blasting music, and you just looked at him for a few seconds before dropping your head back down in your hands. You couldn’t even comprehend what he had just said to you.

He was a little less drunk than you, so he picked up your phone and checked the messages just in case it was an emergency, and he almost threw up when he saw what it was. “What are you doing with this in your phone?” He tsked when you didn’t bother looking up at him.

An evil yet hilarious idea popped into his head. He figured he might as well do it because he wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.

Ewww🤮😷 he giggled after he sent the text.

“What are you laughing at?” You mumbled.

“Oh, nothing,” you just groaned in response, hoping that the pounding in your head would go away so you could leave soon.

Heeseung snatched his phone up, unlocking it right away, and his brows creased together in confusion. It was a message from you, but it wasn’t your usual response, and it made him a little uncomfortable.

“???” He sent back and anxiously awaited your reply.

“Why does it look like that?🤭” sunoo smiled as he hit the send button.

“Like what?🥺”

“Idk, it looks tiny and squishy.🍤”

Heeseung couldn’t control the blush that crept up his neck. He was feeling thoroughly embarrassed right now, even though he didn’t show it to you.

“Cause you’re not here to make it hard 😐 stop playing games, y/n I know you like when it grows inside your mouth 😏”

Sunoo literally gave you a death glare. He didn’t know this was what you got up to in your free time. Well, it was none of his business anyway. “Get it, I guess.”

“What?” You replied groggily, but Sunoo ignored you. You would have fought him for not paying attention to you, but you didn’t even remember what you were supposed to be angry about in the first place.

“No, and why is it so veiny?” Sunoo covered the lower half of his face as he continued to giggle uncontrollably.

Heeseung was more than confused. He thought you liked it when it was veiny. You always seemed to enjoy licking them before giving him head.

“I thought you liked that😕 guess not” he quickly unsent all the pictures, and suddenly he was feeling all self-conscious and insecure about himself.

Sunoo literally laughed out loud when he saw the attachments had been unsent.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said to Sunoo cause his laughter was literally ringing in your ears. He patted your head softly, and you just laid back down.

“Just are you coming over or not?” Heeseung texted back after that conversation. He wasn’t even sure if he could face you right now.

Sunoo giggled, and by now, you had started to sober up a bit, so he dropped the act so you both could head home soon.

“Y/n can’t make it. She’s like totally wasted right now.”

Heeseung squinted his eyes at the screen, rereading it over and over again, and no matter how many times he read it, it still didn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean y/n can’t make it? You’re literally her.”

By now, he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. This whole conversation was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened between you two.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot to tell you I’m her friend, sunoo. She’s too drunk to talk right now, but I’ll let her know you texted after I take her home.”

Heeseung was absolutely mortified. He dropped his phone out of his hands in utter horror. He can’t believe someone else saw those pictures.

No wonder those texts didn’t seem like you. He should have known something was wrong as soon as he saw the stupid puke emoji.

On the bright side, that meant that you did like his dick when it was like that, but on the other side, this friend of yours literally just saw his dick not once but twice. “Fuck” he wiped his hands over his face.

But what friend? Sunoo definitely didn’t sound like a girl's name. When did you get a friend, especially a friend, that you’d pick over getting dicked down by him?

He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t even in the mood anymore, anyway.

-

Another week went by of you and Sunoo clubbing cause he decided to stay with you longer than just the weekend, and you were thankful to have some company after being alone for so long.

Heeseung was still helplessly texting you every day.

For some reason, over the last couple of days, he felt weird about not hearing from you or seeing you.

He had grown accustomed to seeing you often, and your absence was definitely getting to him.

He can’t count how many cold showers he had to take when you stood him up. It had been so long since you and him had sex that he felt like his dick was going to shrivel up if you didn’t come over and wet it for him.

He knew there was no way you could avoid him, so maybe something important came up, but what did you find that you thought was more important than pleasuring him? He wondered.

“You okay?” He texted just to make sure you were alright, but when you didn’t respond, it wasn’t surprising to him anymore.

He scrolled through your socials. Maybe there’d be something in there letting him know about your recent activities.

“Someone come over here and take care of me. I’m sick,” heeseung read the caption below a picture you had taken. It was of your lower body. You were lying down in bed with rolled-up tissue paper and a tv remote beside you.

He pouted slightly at the picture. No wonder you weren’t answering him. It was cause you didn’t feel well.

You had posted that picture a few hours ago, so hopefully, you’d still be awake once he arrived at your place.

He took a quick shower and changed into some comfortable clothing before grabbing his car keys and heading to the store to buy you some medicine.

He saw a cute vase of flowers that would look good at your bedside, but he decided to skip that cause your guys' relationship wasn’t like that.

To be honest, your guy’s relationship wasn’t one where he’d come over and take care of you when you were sick either, but over the weeks, he started to miss your presence, and for some reason, he just felt like he needed to see you it was confusing to him cause he never felt that way before he never felt like he missed you.

He went to the freezer aisle and grabbed some vanilla ice cream that always made his throat feel better when he was sick, so maybe it’d help you too. He grabbed some cough syrup the nighttime one, so you could sleep the cold away, and he also bought some pills for any types of aches or pains you might be having, and the last two items he bought were, of course, soup and lotion tissues cause the regular ones hurt.

He paid for everything and got back in his car, driving to your place. It wasn’t that far, but he went a little over the speed limit so he could get there faster with the medicine.

Once he made it there, he grabbed your bag of goodies and headed up to your apartment. He looked at the apartment number, and he remembered you were number one on the floor. He knocked softly and waited at the door patiently in case it took you a while to make it to the door. To his surprise, it flung open right away, and he stood there a bit stunned when he saw someone other than you answering your door.

“Hi!” Sunoo chirped.

“Hi?” Heeseung replied, confused, and looked at the number on the door, making sure that he had the right room, and sure enough, it was the right room but the wrong person. “My apologies. I think I have the wrong number.”

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” Sunoo smiled softly, hoping he could point the confused gentleman in the right direction.

“Umm.. y/n, I haven’t been here in a while. She must have moved. Sorry for disturbing you” heeseung was ready to take his leave, but Sunoo spoke up again.

“Moved? No, she’s still here, but she’s feeling unwell,” sunoo pouted.

“Well, could I see her?” Heeseung said, feeling a bit annoyed cause what the hell was this nerd doing alone with you at your apartment?

“Who exactly are you?” Sunoo eyed him suspiciously. It was kinda odd for this unknown man to be asking for you at this time of night.

“A friend we met a while ago,” sunoo hummed.

“How come she’s never told me about you” he squinted his eyes at the stranger.

“She’s never told me about you either,” heeseung glared at the shorter male in front of him.

“Name?”

“Heeseung,” he rolled his eyes.

Sunoo shut the door and went to your room. “There’s some guy says he’s friends with you, and his name is heeseung. Does that ring any bells?”

Your eyes widened in shock after hearing what sunoo had just said.

There’s no way you heard right. You had to be hallucinating.

“Y/n?” Sunoo called you, snapping you out of your daze, and that’s when you realized you weren’t hallucinating and that this was all too real.

“No, no, no!” You said, panicked. “Don’t let him in!”

Unfortunately, it was already too late heeseung had invited himself in and was standing in your doorframe, looking you dead in the eyes, and he didn’t seem all too happy to see you despite you being the main and only reason he was there in the first place. “I’m sorry, but you have to go” Sunoo tried to grab heeseung’s arm, but he didn’t budge.

“I-it’s fine, sunoo, we’ll only be a minute” sunoo gave you an are you sure look, and you nodded weakly. “What are you doing here?” You said coldly.

“Obviously, to see you,” he said just as coldly.

You scoffed as you folded your arms. “So obvious,” you rolled your eyes. The last time he came to your place to see you was at least five months ago.

He stood there and looked at you for a while, wondering where your attitude was coming from. You usually were excited when he came over. “Who is that?” He asked, referring to the guy that answered your door. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“None of your business, just what do you want?” You replied in annoyance.

He sighed. “I saw that you were sick, so I came over,” he stated as if this was something that he did regularly. He lifted up the bag in his hand, showing it to you.

“I didn’t ask you to,” you said without looking at him.

“Can I not come to see you for once?” He chuckled dryly.

It’s not that he couldn’t come to see you. You just didn’t understand why after you cut him out of your life, he was showing up to your apartment cause you were sick. What would he care? He never showed any ounce of care for you before.

“Well, I was coming to take care of you, but I see someone else already is” his tone was laced with annoyance as he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

You were beyond upset with him right now. What right did he have to be annoyed that you had somebody that actually cared about you and was willing to take care of you?

“And? Heeseung, I don’t get it. I stopped answering your texts because I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole, and just when I try to move on from you, you show up talking about taking care of me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You know that I fucking like you, and now you pull this shit. Are my feelings just a fucking game to you?” You said what you had been thinking for a while. You didn’t mean to lash out at him, but in your fit of disbelief and rage, you couldn’t help it.

“No!” He yelled. “But apparently, mine fucking are to you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you even talking about?”

“I came over 'cause I fucking c- you know what, never mind seeing how I’m nothing but an asshole to you” he clenched his jaw and slammed the bag of groceries in your trash bin before slamming your bedroom door on his way out.

Sunoo was listening by the door the whole time, and he stumbled back when heeseung barged through and bumped him out of the way with his shoulder.

Heeseung walked out of your apartment, and he made sure to slam the front door as well.

“Y/n…” sunoo walked in to see you crying softly, and he immediately wrapped you up in his arms. “Are you okay?” You shook your head no and encircled his waist in a hug as you sobbed with your head resting on his chest. “I can beat him up if you want” sunoo smiled sadly as he stroked your head.

You shook your head again, and Sunoo took the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Being the good friend that he is, he stayed with you until you eventually fell asleep, and you were so thankful that in a time like this, you had someone like him.

-

Heeseung left your apartment and went to the nearest convenience store to buy himself every type of alcohol known to man.

Once he got back in his car, he opened the first bottle of beer while he drove home, downing it in one go. One turned into many, and he was already on his sixth beer once he reached home.

He went straight to his bedroom and laid down. The beer wasn’t quite strong enough to dull the pain in his chest, so he opened a bottle of liquor, drinking it like it was water. He didn’t give a fuck about how he’d feel in the morning right now. He just wanted to forget. “You’re nothing but a selfish asshole,” he chuckled as he repeated the same exact words you said to him earlier.

Worst part is he knew it was true hell. You calling him an asshole was going easy. He was every bit of a fucking loser. He was a pathetic no, good excuse for a person that played around with your feelings just cause he could. He knew you were into him for more than just sex, and instead of reciprocating your feelings, he ignored them cause somehow it was amusing to have you running over to his aid whenever he wanted.

But after those first few days without you, reality hit him like a truck, and he realized just how much he took you for granted. He accepted that after all this time, he, too, had started to feel something for you, but he didn’t want to admit it because it was easier not to and he didn’t want to make things complicated.

But now it all made sense why he felt jealous when he found out you had a guy friend, why he was nervous whenever he texted you, and why he felt scared when you didn’t answer him.

It was because he was afraid of losing you. He couldn’t believe it only took a few days of not hearing from you to make him admit to himself that he was head over heels for you, but it did.

And when he was finally ready to face the fact that he missed you and not just sex, it was too late. You’d already given up on him and moved on.

But it was better this way. That sunoo guy looked nice. He protected you and took care of you when you were unwell, and that was more than heeseung ever even thought of doing for you in the time he’s known you for.

He knew you deserved better than him, and in his drunken stupor, he convinced himself that he was happy that you found better.

FIN

@heej43 if anyone wants to be tagged in future works just let me know.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you who made it to the end. - 🐹

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I MISSED YOUUU AND YOUR WRITING :(

SO GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK!!!!

When, or if you’re comfortable with sharing fics from your stash again, could you please revive these? (or perhaps secure them at ao3?):

The one where Matt was growing (but then failing to) some type of melon in cold dreary rainy England sometime in the late 18th / early 19th century

19th century Baby fight: Wee Jack standing up for baby Zee and punching Wee Ludwig , Matt swooping them up later to deescalate

Mid-19th century fight: Teen jack vs Angry livid Arthur because of a broken statue? Then he drops deceased because Zee and Laudanum 

21st century London: Drunk Matt involved in a bar fight cuz he flirted with a girl, and her boyfriend was not having it lol - Jack came to pick him up afterwards

I’m not sure if these were head canons or if you just briefly mentioned these, but they’re in my memory, and I can’t find them anymore from reblogs of your older/deactivated blogs and I still think about them to this day :(((((

Thank you! and Ah! Yes! I can get those written out or back on the blog in some form. Though, unfortunately the first three are what I've kind of started to call 'pseudo-short stories' because they're definitely getting detailed enough to be fics but have not been written out in any true narrative. I've put the ao3 link to the 4th in the comments and below the cut as its a 'real' short story in that its at least a narrative lol.

Whiskey, no so neat.

The woman before Matthew spread herself out on the barstool and looked at him like he was the first apple of autumn in his red toque and brown jacket. He liked it when they did that. There were coloured lights all around the door, a crowd of people, and house music everywhere. A good lager only cost 3 pounds, polished sterling, and he'd had a lot of them. The used glasses on the bar top behind them reflected pretty party lights until they looked like the aurora borealis in his smudged-up vision.

One-night stands made Matthew feel like something had just been invented, something brand new and worth a look at across the bar—valuable, even if only as an ephemeral novelty. Even if it was only because he was pretty.

She swung her arms around him and wound a loose bit of his hair around her fingers. Matthew kissed her and slid himself between her short skirt and black tights and the bar, kissing her again until he was panting and his heart was throbbing to the music at all the pulse points. He looked up at them in the mirror behind the bar, him and the woman. A man stood behind him, glaring murderously from under a ball cap.

"Problem?" Matt asked, looking over his shoulder, arms still slung around the woman's shoulders. He was drunk. He was far too fucking drunk.

"That's my girl."

Matt looked back at the woman.

She shrugged. "An ex,"

"You heard her," Matt laughed. That would have been the end of it at home.

"Get off her!"

"No, thank you," Matthew said, and the woman nudged him closer. They ignored the man. He swung himself around and hitched her up. It was the smoothest floor he'd ever been on, or he was wasted, and he slipped, had to keep adjusting and pushing forward to keep his arms around her and his mouth on her neck. Her moans drew up, and he sighed into her jaw. It's another twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five. They get more drinks. Matt drinks whiskey neat. His fourteenth glass or so. Time doesn't mean much. It clumps up like chunks of ice, making a whole solid in a glass. He's about to ask if she wants to return to her place or his when he's clocked in the face. He's still thinking about how he hopes it's her place because his place is his father's 19th-century sofa and a few quilts half the city over when he pushes her out of the way, hopefully to safety. He cracks an elbow into the glaring bastard's jaw, the way that makes even Alfred fucking hurt and is about to drag the asshole who hit him outside and high stick a few ribs until they're good and dented when Jack's in front of him. He'd forgotten this was a family outing.

"All right, mate, that's enough," He said, gripping Matt's shoulders and steering him towards the door.

The cold night air hit their faces, and they shivered. Matt's baby brother had been in his sunshine-drenched desert continent home until a week ago, and he felt terrible. He curled an elbow around Jack's neck, suddenly wobbly.

"I wasn't finished!" He hiccoughed. "And you should have worn a jacket,"

"Yeah, nah, you're done," Jack said, sounding beyond annoyed.

"I told you to wear a jacket, bud," Matt proclaimed, not responding to Jack but, like all of London, needing to hear him if his brother didn't.

"You're munted," Jack said, grinning. He tossed Matt's arm off and dragged the other over his shoulders like he didn't trust Matthew to stand up. "Just have fucken look at you,"

"But I'm right," Matt said, swerving and thrusting one hand out before him. He forgot to reach a finger out to make the point, lecture, and be the elder sibling. Shit. He hiccoughed.

"Let's find another pub," Matt said, turning around twice before he realized Jack was still to his left.

"You'll find someone to get in trouble over, you goddamn root rat," Jack said, tugging him down the sidewalk.

"Promise I won't,"

"Mate you just arc'd up at some random bloke," Jack said.

"Fucker hit me first!"

"Yeah, I'm sure Dad will love that explanation for why you almost took someone's head off over someone you've never met," Jack said, hailing a cab.

"But she was hot,"

Jack scowled at him.

"D'you even like girls?" Matt asked. He couldn't remember. "Tits are great,"

"Matt, how much did you drink?"

He blinked.

"Heh, too much." Curiosity crept up on him all of a sudden. "Do marsupials not have tits? Is that why you don't like tits?"

"Jesus Christ, mate," Jack was glowing in a street lamp halo of piss-coloured light.

"Come on, if we're out too late you'll still be hurling for that Honore Balzac lecture you wanted to see,"

"I wanted to honour my ballsack on that girl," Matt returned, giggling. Like a child. Like a girl. Except Zee never giggled. She was loud. She laughed as loud as she wanted. Good for her. Matt thought and wondered why his brain wasn't working anymore.

"The writer,"

He blinked. "Oh yeah, I knoooooow," He hadn't, but Matt pulled out the word and was very glad his baby brother held him fast by the waist and shoulder. Baby brother. Bouncy baby Jack hopped up the curb. He was tall. Jesus Christ, he was so tall. Matt grinned down at him as Jack tugged him along.

"I'm so proud of you,"

"How is it you are exactly the same drunk as you are sober?" Jack said, adjusting Matt's arm over his neck, but Matt could hear how pleased he sounded.

"What'stha mean?" Matt slurred.

"Means you're fucken gone, mate, doesn't it? Jesus but it does,"

"You sound," Matt hiccoughed and tried again. The last five shots were kicking in hard, apparently. "You sound Irish,"

"I am Irish you knob, c'mon Matt, make your bloody legs work would ya?"

He must have blacked out a little after that because they stepped off the curb and got into a car. But when the hell had Jack hailed a cab? No, not a cab. Dad's car. Hadn't that been left at the house? Shit.

"If I hurl—

"Do it out the window and I'll hose it off in the morning," A familiar voice said. Father. Dad.

"You called Dad?" Matt asked. His father raised a brow. "Shit! Shit! I didn't kill anyone!"

His father cocked an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, when did Matthew find himself in the car? He was stashed in the back on his side, unbuckled. The car was moving.

"You picked us up?" he said, astonished. The soft seat felt absolutely delicious, and he propped his cheek on it, but his stomach was sour—with anxiety, not his bar tab.

"I called him," Jack supplied.

"Why?" Matt said.

"Because you got wasted, horked on the curb and I didn't feel like hauling you all the way home,"

"You didn't have to call Dad!" The world tilted. His guts lurched. He might have been sick all over the car, but then he sat up, and gravity was happier with him. Or was he happier with gravity? His head spun. Had he been this drunk in the bar? He clawed his way towards the other side of the car and leaned between the front seats, holding the center console. "I'm really sorry,"

"It's fine," his father said. At the next stop sign, his eyes flicked up in the mirror, and Matt thought he meant it but still felt terrible.

"I was irresponsible," He said quietly. "Sorry,"

"Really, it's fine,"

"Sorry,"

"Sit back down,"

"Dad,"

"Sit your sorry arse down and buckle up or we will be having words about it!" Arthur snapped. "I mean honestly, Matthew Williams! How irresponsible can you be?"

"Yes, sir," He hated when Arthur whipped out his name like that. Jack and Zee have long since chosen their own, but they'd been given one at least. It was a firm, concrete reminder whenever Arthur said his name in that tone. You're like this because you're not mine. Not really. Secondhand son. Oxfam offspring.

He was beyond drunk if he was thinking like that. He fastened the buckle and remained silent. Jack tried a couple of times to start a conversation, but it got nowhere. Eventually, they sat in sullen silence.

Matthew was quiet but wanted to cry a bit when Arthur glowered in the mirror at him. He averted his gaze and stared at his boots, ashamed of himself for indulging in the drink or the girl. When they got to the house, Jack heaved him up, dragging him out of the car, arm over his shoulder, even when he got his sea legs. This is why he never drank as much as he could actually tolerate. He looked everywhere but at Dad, humiliated enough to stare at his feet. Or he was just so drunk he had to watch his feet move. He'd fall flat on his face even with Jack's balancing

He must blackout again because the next he knew, he was awake in a dark room, convinced he was falling, half-folded onto a chair.

"You with me, mate?" Jack was holding a basin, damp inside. He must have just rinsed it out because his mouth tasted like puke.

"Yeah," Matt said. "I threw up?"

"Yup," Jack said and gave him a pat.

"I suck,"

Jack smiled sympathetically. "Just a bit. You think you're done puking?"

"Nothing left,"

Jack guided him through their father's dark house, somehow steering them both through without breaking anything or falling over. He shoved Matt into the shower, and Matt clumsily washed his hair, hosed off sweat and puke, brushed his teeth, and somehow found himself competently toweling himself off. Jack had found their father's stash of clothes in all their sizes and threw them at him.

"Here, joggers and a jumper for your gangly arse," Jack slapped him gently on the back and Matt snorted.

"Jumper," Matt rolled the word around his mouth. "You're the kangaroo,"

"Jesus Christ you're still hammered. It's like dragging dad off the docks." Jack shook his head, and they somehow managed not to die crossing the hall to the spare bedroom. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Matt's face-planted into the bed and thought the flannel pillowcase was a thousand times better than any tits he would have otherwise fallen face into that night. Jack had said he was like Dad out of annoyance but Matt had the small, and embarassing, flicker of joy. He wanted to blurt out thanks but instead he just laid there in a better mood than he'd been since the car.

"Sit up," Jack kicked him gently on the leg, and Matt rolled over, dizzy.

"Don't want to,"

"Yeah, well, you should have thought about that before you got this drunk," Jack gave him another nudge, and Matt did as he was told. Jack held out a glass of water and a handful of tablets. "Take those, and drink all of that,"

Matt knocked the pills back and drank it all. Jack took the glass from him and filled it again, putting it on the bedside table.

"You're not going to go and choke to death in your sleep, right?" Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked funny, and Matt felt terrible. His spiky hair was wilted, and Matt thought he should put him in the sun. But his head hurt, and light would make it hurt more, so he settled for flopping over and hugging his baby brother.

"I've literally never done that,"

Jack squeezed his shoulder and let go. "Dad has," Jack said, starfishing on the bed and shoving Matt onto the far edge.

"I'm not Dad," Matt said, sipping more at the water.

"You mind if I stay in here and make sure you don't?" Jack said. "You hammered is weird,"

"Sorry,"

"You're allowed," Jack said. "It's just weird,"

"Tell that to Dad, he hates me,"

"He wasn't happy, that's for bloody sure," Jack said. "But he wouldn't pop down to the shops at two in the morning to round up the full fry up if he hated you,"

Matt gagged.

"Sorry," Jack pat him on the shoulder.

"Saint Bibiana have mercy upon my soul," Matt groaned.

Jack snorted and gently shoved him onto his side. "Come on, get some sleep, you'll feel less like shit in the morning."

"You and I both know that's bullshit," Matt said, eyes shut against the spinning. "I deserve it,"

"You do not," Jack looked ready to smack him upside the head. "Don't be stupid. You're fine,"

"I'm sorry for being a prick,"

"You had fun for once, it wasn't your fault that whacker wanted a fight,"

"Still, I'm sorry,"

"Stop apologizing," Jack said again. "I puked on you plenty when I was little,"

Matt chuckled. "God, that's true. You vomited all the way to England like four times,"

"You're the one who never believed me when I said I wasn't done being sick!" Jack shot back, smiling.

"You'd been puking for ten hours straight that time, I didn't know how there could even be anything left in you," Matt's guts flipped. "Hgnn, no more puke talk,"

"All right, all right, mate, sleep time," Jack held the covers up, and Matt rolled under, burrowing under the duvet.

"Al right, all right. When did you get a brain cell?"

"Kiwi lets me have custody of it when she's off being the family shame," He snorted and flopped onto the mattress next to Matt. "Promise you won't puke on me, asshole,"

"Jackass,"

"Please, Jackass is my father. Call me Jack,"

Matt was snorting as he fell asleep.

[arannellahowlett]

Did you just attack me with Lego?

A/N: I hate how I ended this but my brain died...Part of a series maybe???

Warnings: None, just fluffy David, and me hating the ending.

Summary: David returns home to his wife from the con circuit late at night and gives her a bit of a startle.

Word count: 1.3 k

It had been a very long, and very difficult day for Y/N. Not that this was unusual. Working for a surgeon meant that anything could happen and  with today being the last day before she was off for the holidays, well, that meant she had a lot to do and very little time to get it done before she would be free to enjoy two interrupted weeks with her husband David, who would be coming home from the comic con circuit in three days. Y/N hadn’t seen him in person for two months and had been looking forward to it. But first she had to get through the rest of the day…

The end of her workday did not go well, her boss had informed her that the last patient of his day in the OR had unfortunately not made it through surgery. He had been someone that they had both gotten to know very well, having been a patient of your clinic for over five years.  On top of this, she had not heard from David all day, something that was odd, normally she received a good morning text, a check in  during the afternoon and when she was heading home, normally he would call her if able. Today? Radio silence. She absolutely was going to need to stop and grab wine for the night. Or maybe not, seeing as when she arrived at the store…it was closed, because of course it was.

Y/N arrived home, taking the stairs to their 7th floor apartment, and fought with the lock for a minute or two. She really was going to need to speak with the landlord about it, it had been an issue for a few weeks and was getting progressively worse. Sighing into the darkness Y/N turned on the lamp in the living room, dropped her bag on the couch and kicked off her shoes before moving into the kitchen. She didn’t feel like cooking but thankfully had leftovers from the night before. Cracking open the fridge to grab the left over pizza, she was surprised to find half a bottle of wine from the last time she had a bad day. Wine and pizza it is.

The cat came trotting through the hall from the bedroom, weaving through her feet as she moved about, warming the pizza in the microwave, because fuck it. She moved to the couch once the pizza was warm enough, Art, yes, the cat was in fact named after the clown, jumped into her lap, begging for pieces of bacon off the slice. “Don’t tell your dad.” She whispered as she gave him a piece…or three.

The rest of Y/N’s evening was spent catching up on trash television and checking her phone for messages from David, which never arrived. She shouldn’t have been upset by this as he was very busy these days, between podcasts, interviews and cons, David was constantly on the move. She should be used to that because the man does NOT sit still on a good day.  She was happy for him, he was enjoying himself and she loved the Terrifier films, she especially loved that he was getting the praise that he deserved. What she didn’t love was when he was constantly away, the last two months had been the longest stretch that he’d been gone, and she was struggling with it.

Finally, at 9:30, Y/N decided that it was an okay time to go to bed, and then maybe tomorrow would be a better day, she could sleep in, she didn’t have to work and, like a kid counting down to Christmas, she was counting down the sleeps until she would be back in David’s arms. She took her vitamins, brushed her teeth and changed into shorts and one of David’s t-shirts, which were much too large on her. Art followed her into the bedroom, curling up on David’s pillow and watching her as crawled into bed. It didn’t take long before she was dead to the world.

She jerked awake just after 2 am, confused as to why until she heard thumping coming from the living room. Looking around the bedroom, she found that Art was still on David’s pillow, out cold until there was another thump and his head perked up before he stretched and jumped off the bed, making his way to the living room. It had to be her imagination, right? Or the upstairs neighbour? Muffled cursing told her that it in fact was not her imagination or the upstairs neighbour, it was absolutely someone in her living room.

Looking for her phone she cursed realizing that it was left in the living room. She scrambled to get out of bed, looking for a potential weapon to defend herself with. She grabbed the closest thing to the door without really looking, and positioned herself next to it, ready to strike as soon as the person came through the door. She didn’t have to wait long as the tall, dark shadow of the intruder moved through the door. Y/N swung hard, nailing the person directly in the head, the item in her before booking it to the living room, only stopping when she heard the voice of the intruder.

“Jesus fuck! What the hell Y/N?” Y/N froze, the intruder sounded a lot like her husband.

“D-David?” She asked hesitantly, chest heaving from the adrenaline. The light turned on, and once Y/N’s eyes adjusted, she saw that her husband was in fact  in their bedroom, clutching his head, body shaking with laughter. “Oh my god, David are you okay?” She rushed over to him and then yelped as she stepped on something hard.

She hopped on one foot for a moment before sitting on the bed and rubbing her foot. Once the pain ebbed off, she looked up at where David was standing looking gorgeous as always. He was looking at the floor, trying to figure out what you had stepped on. Following his gaze, you gasped a little. You had in fact bludgeoned your husband  with his newly finished, and expensive  Lord of the Rings, Barad-dûr Lego set, which had shattered into pieces on impact.

He looked at Y/N and then back at the Lego before he broke out in giggles. “Holy shit, you tried to kill me with Lego! What the actual fuck did you think that was going to do?” If it wasn’t for the fact that he was laughing, Y/N would be concerned that he would be angry about not only being attacked, but his project that he spent hours on was ruined.

“I am so, so sorry David, I didn’t think you were going to be home for a few days and panicked, are you okay? We can rebuild this right?  It’s not like…forever ruined right?” Logically she knew they could rebuild the set, and realistically it shouldn’t have hurt David, but the panic was real and she was babbling.

David pulled her up from where she was seated on the bed, one arm around her waist and the cupping her face before capturing her lips with his own, effectively shutting her up. “Hello,” he whispered as he pulled away. Y/N clutched at his shirt, nuzzling into him.

“Hi, I missed you.” David held her close, kissing the top of her head and swaying with her slightly. “I’m sorry I hit you with your Lego…”

He couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “That is the funniest shit ever. Come on, I need a shower, then I want to hold you forever.” He said, tugging Y/N along with him into the shower. So, you had had a rather shitty day, and you had expected to have a rather shitty night, but David’s presence, despite the fiasco, turned it all around, much like he had turned your life around when you met him.

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You unfortunately let Phoenix talk you into going to the Hard Deck on a night when it was swarming with sailors. And there's only so much that can be done to keep both Bradley and Jake safe during their special mission. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

You knew from Bradley's emails that he was flying his mission today, you just weren't sure what time. You only seemed to be able to think about him and Jake, wondering what they were doing and if they were staying safe. 

Your wedding was less than two weeks away now, and you were leaving work early to drop off your permits with the county office. That was the last thing you had to do. Your plan was to finish writing your vows and making the photo collage this weekend. Then you'd truly be all set for the wedding, and one of Bradley's gifts would be complete. 

Now he just needed to make it back in time so you could pull off the most spectacular surprise of all time, with a little help from Mav.

When you got home, you played with Tramp and argued with Phoenix over text about whether or not you should go to the Hard Deck tonight. It just wasn't the same without Bradley there, but it was even worse now. You knew you were a little antsy, but you wouldn't even be able to tell anyone that it was because your wedding was coming up!

But she got you to agree to go if she picked you up on her way there. So now you were scrambling to get changed into some cutoff shorts, a cute top and your boat shoes before she arrived. You were still eating the sandwich you made and feeding Tramp his dinner when she let herself in the front door.

"You look cute," she said, giving you a look. "That looks like something you'd wear out with Bradley."

"I know," you said between bites of food. "I need to do laundry tomorrow."

Phoenix just sighed. "You sure you don't want to throw on a sweatshirt or one of his massive tees? There's a carrier docking like right now. The bar is going to be swarming with guys."

You just rolled your eyes at her. "This is hardly inappropriate, and it's like a million degrees outside." But now you understood why she was wearing jeans and a baggy shirt. The guys could be a bit relentless when there was a ship in port. "Hey, maybe I can get a free drink," you said with a shrug. 

But five minutes into your night, you realized you had made a mistake. 

"Why did you bring me here?" you growled at Phoenix as you waited in a massive crowd of people to get a beer. "I could be sitting in my backyard with a drink that I didn't have to physically fight someone for!"

But she just shrugged. "It's not as crowded by the pool table."

After a few more minutes, you groaned and told her, "I just want one fucking beer!"

The guy in front of you turned around and smiled at you, and then you heard him add another beer to his order with Penny. 

Your cheeks felt a little warm as he turned around and held a bottle out in your direction. "Here you go, gorgeous. One fucking beer."

You were flustered, not quite sure what to do. So you reached for it, and he pulled it back with a grin. "Just tell me your name first."

"I'm engaged," you responded with an eye roll.

"Wow, that's such a pretty name," he said with a laugh, and you had to keep yourself from laughing at how ridiculous this was becoming. 

"I can buy my own beer, but thanks anyway," you told him, trying to push past him to the bar while Nat shoved you from behind.

"You can have it. I don't even mind if you're engaged. I'm only off the carrier for the night," he told you with a smirk. Now that Nat was ordering her drink, you decided to take the free beer from this guy because he was being such an asshole. 

"Oh? You don't mind?" you asked with your best attempt at a charming smile. 

"Not at all. And my name's Will. You don't need to tell me yours, but I just wanted you to have something to scream later."

You just grimaced at him before putting the bottle to your lips and chugging the entire thing in front of him. He watched with interest as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand and leaned past him to slam the empty down on the bartop. 

"Well, thanks a lot, Will. The beer was delish. I'll just be going now," you told him, grabbing his hand and holding it up so you could give him an awkward high five. 

"I'll be at the pool table," you told Phoenix before turning on your heel and squeezing your way back through the crowd. But you realized Will was following you.

"Hey, wait up! Let's go outside!"

"Seriously?" you mumbled, not sure what else you needed to do to turn this man off to the idea of you. But that's when you spotted the guys playing pool. 

"Hey, come on," Fanboy called to you across the table to you. "I need a partner."

But you reached Coyote first and wrapped your arms around his waist right as he was saying hi to you. "Oh, hey," he said with a laugh, patting you on the back. "It's nice to see you, too."

"There's a guy," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder. "He bought me a beer and I accepted it when I really shouldn't have. Oh shit, he's still coming! I thought he'd leave when he saw me with you."

"What guy?" Payback asked, tossing his pool cue down on the table and turning to look. 

Will stopped short when he saw you with Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Bob. 

"I thought you were joking about being engaged," he said, holding his hands up. "Since you took the drink."

"She's not joking, man," Coyote said, keeping his arm around your shoulders. 

Will just shrugged and said, "Your girl's a tease," before he started to turn away.

But now Payback was starting to look like he wanted to punch the guy, and you felt terrible for letting this happen. 

"You want me to pay you for the beer? Fine," you said, digging in your pocket for some cash.

But Payback set down his glass and said in a very calm voice, "We'll consider the drink you bought her a peace offering. Now apologize for calling her a tease, and you can be on your way."

Will looked at him for a minute before turning to you and Coyote. "Sorry." And then he walked back into the crowd. 

Just then, Nat strolled up with four beer bottles in her hands. "You guys missed the funniest thing! She got a free drink from some guy who told her he wanted to fuck her even though she said she's engaged!"

You just cradled your head in your hands. "That's what he said to you?" Bob asked, going pink in the face. 

"Where the fuck did he go?" Payback snarled, cracking his knuckles. 

"Everyone calm down!" you said, pushing away the bottle Phoenix tried to give you and grabbing Payback's hand. "I'm never coming here when there's a carrier making a port of call ever again! And next time we go out, I'm wearing a trash bag."

But soon everyone went about their business again. And you were happy you didn't feel alone when Bradley and Jake were both gone. Fanboy handed you a pool cue, and you joined the game. 

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

Bradley and Jake woke up and did the exact same thing as each other all day long. They showered, ate breakfast, got some fresh air, went over their final flight briefings, ate lunch, and then dressed in their flight suits.

If you had told Bradley then that the day would change so dramatically for just one of them, he would have found it hard to believe. But that's that way things always seemed to go. 

"You ready?" he asked Jake who was still getting his helmet bag packed up. "What do you have in there anyway?"

"Mosty snacks," Jake said. "Maybe someday I'll have something a little bit more special inside. What's in yours?"

"Mostly snacks,' Bradley said with a laugh. "And a picture or two." He pulled out a printout of a selfie he had taken of you and him holding Tramp between the two of you in your backyard. Jake looked at it and shook his head with a grin. 

"You two thinking about having kids?" he asked, putting his helmet on. 

Bradley laughed. "If I had it my way, she would already be pregnant."

"Yeah," Jake replied, shaking his head. "I don't know why I even asked you that. Angel already told me you want kids right away."

Bradley put his helmet on as well, and they both started walking out to the airstrip. "I find it really disturbing that the two of you have 'girl talk' sessions."

Jake scoffed. "You don't seem to mind it when you put your foot in your mouth and I'm there to bail you out, Bradshaw."

Bradley really couldn't argue with that. He loaded into his F/A-18 and started on his safety checks, missing the days from last year when you were on the other end of his radio communications. But he checked in with some faceless voice in the tower, and he listened to Jake do the same. And soon they were airborne, launching off of catapults one and two with Bradley taking the lead position. 

Bradley checked in with the Comanche for a radar update, and then soon he and Jake were entering enemy airspace for a mission that should have been a quick in and out again. They would need to conserve all four of their missiles for the mission to be a success, so just knowing a dogfight scenario would come down to guns and flares had Bradley a little wary. 

"You all good?" he asked Jake, turning to see him over his right wing.

"All good."

And then it was time to attack, and Bradley fell back into the comfortable way that his mind seemed to take over and keep him calm without the rest of his emotions fighting for dominance. Was he thinking about you? Of course he was, but you were always at the back of his mind. Was he still focusing on what needed to be done with almost exact precision? Yes, because he wanted to stay alive. 

"Attack," he informed Jake at just the right moment, and then Jake split off to the right, behind a mountain range and out of sight. 

They were in constant radio communication as they each eliminated two perimeter targets, and then Bradley flew along a river while Jake flew parallel to the mountain range. This would put Bradley at the coastline first, but Jake should have been close enough for Bradley to see him. 

"Hey Hangman, how far?" 

"About twenty miles."

He had no idea how Jake had managed to fall so far behind, but he would make up twenty miles in less than two minutes. However, now Bradley couldn't see him, and he had to make a decision about lingering for his wingman or conserving his fuel. 

Bradley punched back on the throttle, easing his speed back. He kept checking his mirrors and turning around to look for the telltale glimmer of the dying sunlight on the canopy of Jake's aircraft. It wasn't easy to catch unless you were looking for it. 

But he waited, checking in with the carrier a few times, when finally, he saw what he hoped was Hangman.

"Out over the water," Jake told him. "Coming in hot."

"Copy," Bradley replied, throttling back up to his previous speed. He made sure both he and Jake were cleared for landing and then went down first, hooking the tow line, and waiting for the deck crew team to pull his aircraft safely to the side, making room for Jake to land. 

Bradley was just opening his canopy when he saw Jake buzz the tower, which was very unlike him. Then he heard Jake say, "Complete engine failure," through the radio in his helmet before it cut out. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Bradley asked the ground crew as he scrambled down the ladder. But everyone was frozen in place, awaiting instructions. The intercom started blaring over the deck, and Bradley ripped his helmet off just as Jake brought his jet around again.

It was too late to get the barricades ready if he was truly in full engine failure, and it was also impossible for Jake to get enough altitude to eject. 

"Fuck," Bradley whispered as Jake came down at a strange angle that made him cringe and cover his mouth. It sounded like he had lost both engines, and trying to get onto the deck was the only option. 

Bradley stood back with the deck crew as they raised an additional cable to try to catch the tail hook. But he knew the angle was too extreme, and Bradley watched in horror as Jake hit the deck a little too hard before skidding over both of the cable lines. Since he had no means to lift off and try for a second landing without his engines, everyone had to watch Jake's aircraft skid the length of the runway and then go careening into the Pacific Ocean. 

It felt like someone had sucker punched him, and Bradley sputtered for a few seconds before he started to make a run for the end of the carrier deck. There were crew members everywhere, and even more flooding out of the tower. The closer Bradley got to the end, he was finally able to see Jake's Super Hornet, half sunk in the water sideways. But it was too far away for Bradley to make out where exactly Jake was.

He turned around, trying to find someone who could make sense of what was happening, but it felt like everyone was moving in slow motion. Nobody was moving fast enough to get Jake out of the water before he drowned as the cockpit started taking on water. 

Bradley could hear himself screaming out questions that didn't quite make sense even to himself. But nobody was answering him. Before giving it too much thought, he started yanking at the laces of his boots and pulling them off one at a time. Then he was ripping off his gear and unzipping his flight suit, stripping down to just his compression shorts. 

The deck was about sixty feet above the water, which should only be marginally painful for Bradley, as long as he jumped straight. Otherwise he would just be creating more problems. But now Jake's aircraft was starting to sink, and he hadn't opened the canopy yet. 

So Bradley took a running jump into the freezing cold water to try to save his teammate, only partly because he knew you'd probably never forgive him if there was something he could have done but decided not to.

The water was ice cold, and all of Bradley's skin was burning from the impact as he was sloshed around by the waves as he tried to kick to resurface. He was gasping for air as soon as he broke the surface, and then he was off and swimming as fast as he could toward the F/A-18 that was mostly underwater. 

When he reached the cockpit, he could tell it was still sealed. But then he saw that Jake was fighting against the water pressure to get the canopy open. The further underwater the plane sank, the harder it would be to open it. Bradley took a deep breath and went under, pounding on the canopy until he had Jake's attention. He needed Jake to open all the latches, and then he could try to help him pull it open. 

Jake was scrambling with the last latch, and Bradley went back up for another breath of air. This time, when he went under, he planted his feet against the metal panel and pulled as Jake pushed. The cockpit immediately took on water as soon as they opened it just a few inches. He watched Jake get soaked and hit in the face with a wave of salt water, but then it became a little easier to pry the canopy open a few feet. 

As Jake started to squeeze through the opening, the Super Hornet started sinking in earnest. Bradley knew getting Jake to the surface in his gear would be the hardest part of this entire disaster, so he pushed himself up to the surface for one more good breath of air.

This time his lungs were burning as he dove down deeper, his hands connecting with some part of Jake's flight suit before he pushed off of the metal with both feet. He was kicking for everything he was worth, trying to keep a good hold on Jake's arm or leg. But Bradley's lungs were on fire. He could barely stand the pain. He was starting to lose his vision as he kicked harder and harder. He hoisted Jake over his head and pushed him to the surface, letting himself float up as his limbs gave out.

When Bradley felt the cold air hit his face, he opened his eyes, suddenly alert again. Jake's body was refusing to float from the weight of the soaking wet flight suit, and his eyes were closed. Bradley got his fingers on Jake's neck to find his pulse and made sure he still had a strong heartbeat, then he grabbed him under both armpits and kicked relentlessly to keep him above water. 

And thank god there was finally a diving crew jumping in now. Bradley kicked until he heard a woman telling him to stop, and that she had him while another diver had a hold on Jake. Bradley sank back into her grip, letting himself go boneless. And eventually they were all being raised back up to the deck where Bradley finally realized exactly how fucking freezing cold he was. 

Someone bundled him in blankets while he watched Jake's flight suit being cut off of him. "Oh, fuck," Bradley whispered, dropping to his knees on the airstrip and staring at the surreal scene in front of him. Jake's forehead was bleeding profusely and his lips were blue from the temperature of the water. But at least his eyes were open, and then he rolled onto his side and started coughing up water. 

Bradley sat quietly on the deck for a moment, but when a smile broke out on Jake's face, he couldn't help but smile too.

"Well, that fucking sucked," Jake sputtered as he rolled onto his back again. 

Bradley laughed. "You scared the shit out of me, man."

"You're insane," Jake said quietly. "Angel is going to be so mad."

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

You were exhausted and irritable by the time Phoenix dropped you back off at home. Your night had been terrible right off the bat. You shouldn't have accepted the beer from that guy just to try to get under his skin. You really hated guys like that, the ones who couldn't take the hint when a girl wasn't interested in them. 

You brushed your teeth and got changed for bed, leaving your glasses on your nightstand before lifting Tramp up into bed with you. Should you start a new pill pack? You had been looking at it sitting next to the bed for the past few days. If you didn't take it now, your cycle would be a mess if you changed your mind in a few days. But if you didn't take a pill and also didn't change your mind... well, you were ready now. 

You tossed your unopened birth control pills into your nightstand drawer, next to your new necklace charm and a stack of paper airplanes. Bradley had been telling you for months, ever since you thought you might have gotten pregnant in La Jolla, that he was ready when you were. That it was up to you. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. Sometimes the pain you felt from missing Bradley was as much physical as mental, and right now, your body was aching. It almost felt like you'd been out in the sun too long after getting bashed by ocean waves. You felt stiff and achy and uncomfortable. You were trying not to think about the fact that you had no idea what was going on with Bradley and Jake's mission. But you supposed no news was good news, at least as far as a deployment special mission was concerned. 

So you turned off your lamp and snuggled up with Tramp, spinning your engagement ring on your finger and reminding yourself that Bradley would be back soon with Jake in tow. Hopefully just in time for your perfect, surprise wedding. 

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

Too much excitement! Holy shit. And how's Bradley going to feel about Baby Girl discreetly going off birth control?

PART 17

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