#YOU CAN SEE HOW HE VISIBLY PICTURES IT ALL OVER AGAIN BEFORE HE THROWS BACK THE ‘I WAS JUST DOING MY JOB’ JUST LOOK AT THE SHEER DISGUST AND

[vindickyoutive]

these micro-expressions hONHONHONHON

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

[nonstoplover]

all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Old man Price who’s never taken nudes before, spending a good hour on his bed or in front of the mirror, trying to take the perfect picture.

You hadn’t asked him to take nudes, matter of fact he was the one to think about it. It had popped in his mind when you left him in bed, all worked up because you got called out on a sudden mission.

Price had grown up with a rather conservative view on sex and doing things like this, taking pictures of his naked body woke a feeling of shame inside of him.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, kept glancing at his phone laying on the night stand, wondering if he should or shouldn’t send you a picture.

What the hell? He thinks to himself, before he gets up to grab it and lays back down again.

His hands slightly shake, pulse roaring in his ears and he feels his stomach turning as he lays sprawled out on the sheets.

How is he even supposed to do this?

Price curses under his breath, eyes rolling in annoyance. This is one of the times he wishes he’d done more in his younger years because who in the world doesn’t know how to take a nude picture?

He looks down at himself. He’s dressed in plain black boxers, that are clearly showing the outline of his boner with a visible dark spot on them from how much you worked him up this morning.

Is this too much clothes for a nude picture?

He sighs out loud, nibbles on his lips before he makes the hasty decision to pull down the fabric, just enough for the dark tufts of hair to peak past his underwear.

He quickly snaps a picture before he can think too much about it.

When he goes to check the results he feels disappointment washing over him and he scratches at his head in frustration.

The picture looks nothing like what a nude picture should look like ( or at least what he thinks a nude picture should look like) What are you going to do with a picture where he’s just slightly tugged down his boxers. You might just think he accidentally sent it while lazying around in bed and what is he supposed to say no love, haha, this was actually for you.

Price shuts his eyes, phone pressed to his chest, boxers still tugged down his hips and reconsidering his decision.

It doesn’t take much before he does a second attempt, now completely discarding his boxers.

This time he lets the sheets delicately cover up his most essentially bits, and although he’s all covered up, the fabric is so thin you can practically see the outline of his dick.

It’s not too little and it’s not too much. It’s just enough

He quickly snaps a picture, sends you it and throws his phone somewhere onto the bed. For a second he feels ridiculous for acting like this, but he doesn’t get to dwell on it for too long before he receives your response, showing him just how much you appreciate it.

After that he gets better and better at taking nudes, incorporating different types of lingerie to spice things up, sometimes he’ll even snap a picture while using one of the toys that you got him. Sometimes it’s just a plain and simple picture, where he’s just got out of the shower, no towel on him no nothing, maybe just slightly smiling, because this man knows he doesn’t even have to try much when it comes to you.

And slowly but surely he gets a bit more riskier with it, sneaking out of a meeting just to quickly snap a picture of his hard dick, before walking back in like nothing happened, or how he’ll send you a blurry picture of him stroking his dick when you’re out on a mission knowing there’s nothing you can do about it, or down on all four showing you the recent butt plug he got or literally just sending you a picture of his hand on his chest with a simple “bored” to go along with it, while smiling the entire time, fully aware that just the sight of the dark hairs dusted over his pecs and his dog tags resting in between them will get you worked up

[ahonice]

lucky; pt.2

part one

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 8.4k

warnings: cursing, drinking, implications of sex/sexual jokes & situations, slight hate towards business majors, probably definitely incorrect knowledge about pre med shit.

note: since so many people asked for a part two (literally only fifteen but still) i finally got over the grudge i have against series/part twos and i'm here to relieve you all. this is the opposite of planned out, i am writing this as i go along so i hope it doesn’t suck too badly (actually scared no one will like this because of how much love part one got). anyways enjoy, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes <3

italics are flashbacks

+++

you and luke didn’t arrive back at the house until past midnight. neither of you expected anyone to be awake when you entered through the front door, but the sound of multiple voices proved that theory to be wrong.

“i think my brother’s friends got here a little earlier than we anticipated.” luke told you as he opened the door, going unnoticed by the small crowd in the living room. “let’s just get to my room and go to sleep, we need some rest.” you nodded at luke’s words as he moved himself behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you knew he was subconsciously attempting to protect you from the group of guys, more specifically his brothers.

we didn’t make it far though, only a few moments later a voice called out at luke, causing everyone else to focus their attention on us. sighing, luke let go of you and moved forward to greet everybody, muttering an apology as he passed by you. 

you stood there awkwardly, trying to decide if you should wait for luke to finish with his tiny game of catch up or if you should just go up into his room and wait for him there. after what happened today luke asked his mother if the two of you could stay in the same room today, she agreed after a little bit of begging on luke’s behalf. before you could make your own decision the room’s attention was no longer on luke.

“who is the girl luke?” 

your head shot up at the mention of you, instantly becoming a bit self conscious because of the number of eyes on you. you made eye contact with quinn for a split second before tears started to build up again, seeing him just reminded you of everything that you had been through in the past twenty four hours.

“that’s my girlfriend, y/n.” luke said, making his way back to your side and attempting to block you from the eyes that were visibly making you uncomfortable. “-and if you don’t mind we would like to get to bed, it’s been a long day. you can all be properly introduced in the morning.” without letting anybody else get a word in, he turned around and guided you up to his room with his hands around your waist.

+++

you woke relatively early, the sun was just beginning to rise so you took this as your opportunity to go outside and spend some time on your own, you needed it. it took a little bit to get luke’s death grip on you loose enough for you to wiggle out of bed, but after you were successfully free you grabbed one of his hoodies to throw on over your pjs and pulled your hair out of your face with a claw clip. 

you silently made your way out of the house and took a seat out on the dock, taking a quick picture of the view as the sky turned shades of pink and orange. you dipped your feet into the water before grabbing your journal, deciding it was best to write your feelings down on paper just for your better understanding of everything that has happened.

as you finished up your journal entry you noticed the sun was now peaking over the tree line, you took a picture of the view, as well as a picture of your legs with your feet in the water and the pink journal in your lap. you opened up instagram and put all the pictures you took this morning and posted them to your private instagram account, captioning it “yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, can only hope today and each day after will be better.” 

you spent a few more minutes in silence, enjoying the fresh air you were getting. your trance was broken by the sound of footsteps on the dock.

“hey dear, what are you doing up so early?” you turned around to look at the man speaking.

“hi jim.” you smiled as he sat down next to you. “i’m just spending some time outside. i felt like i needed some fresh air.” 

jim nodded before speaking, “i’m sorry about everything. i had no idea any of this was going on, and i am sorry that i didn’t pick up on it earlier.” 

“it’s okay, don’t feel bad for not noticing it earlier. i should’ve spoken up when it first started happening.” you told him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“would you like to join me and ellen today? we’re just running some errands but it could be fun, help you escape the sausage party that has become the lake house.” jim offered, causing you to laugh at his use of the phrase “sausage party”.

“yeah i would love to.”

+++

you had gotten ready for the day without waking up your boyfriend, so you decided to continue to let him sleep. you went to your room and began packing your bags because you would be leaving in two days and you needed to begin getting ready for your departure back home. once the room was all sorted and looked like nobody was staying in it, you put your luggage back into the closet and made your way downstairs, cleaning had always been a way for you to relieve stress. 

“sorry to keep you guys waiting, i wanted to clean up my room.” you told ellen and jim as you made your way downstairs.

“no need for apologies sweetie, let’s go. our first stop is breakfast.” 

+++

you had gone to breakfast with luke’s parents and told them about your plans for after college.

“right now i’m planning on becoming a medical examiner.” you explained as you waited for your orders. “i just have to see if i made it into the pre-med program before i can begin properly planning my future.” ellen and jim nodded, and continued to ask some questions about how your first year of university was going and other school related topics. 

+++

after breakfast they took you to the local farmers/flea market, you were excited as you had been meaning to ask luke to come along with you. as you were browsing your options you saw a couple booths near each other with fabric for sale, you quickly made your way over and began looking at what was all there. after a few moments you found the colors you were looking for. 

you purchased your rolls of cloth as well as some embroidery floss in an assortment of colors because you had been meaning to stock up on it and some yarn for one of your experiments. after getting everything you made your way back towards ellen and jim, telling them what you got. 

the next stop was the grocery store, with jack’s friends arriving early the house wasn’t stocked up for everybody staying over. during your morning with luke’s parents the topic of what happened the day before didn’t come up until your last stop of the day. 

you were looking around a local garden shop, looking for a new plant to bring home, when ellen came up to you.

“i just want to apologize again for what happened yesterday. i am beyond embarrassed for how my sons have been treating you. you mean a lot to me, jim, and luke, and after the talk i had with them yesterday i’m hoping jack and quinn will come around as well.” you smiled at ellen, a couple tears were brought to surface when she said that you meant a lot to her. 

once you and luke were gone ellen walked up to her oldest sons and they immediately knew what was coming.

“mom, please don’t-”

“no quinn! i am going to.” she sighed, “y/n means so much to luke, and for you guys to be so rude and disrespectful towards her is unacceptable. has she ever done anything to make you guys feel that way? or were these assumptions completely based on snap judgements?” ellen took her son’s silence as an answer. “y/n is good for luke, i’ve never seen him happier. he loves her enough to introduce us and allow us to spend time with her, and this is how you pay him back? you two need to figure out a way to fix this, i suggest you start with opening up the presents that y/n spent hours making for you two that you guys never had the common decency to be appreciative about, i think you’ll like what they are.” after giving them one more look of disappointment she walked back into the house to find jim and explain to him what was going on.

“i think they want to open up the gifts you made, but i never got to properly ask because their friends showed up.” you smiled at her. them opening up the gifts wasn’t going to fix everything, ellen knew this, but it was a start. 

+++

it was only eleven when you returned back to the lake house, with how late everybody stayed up last night you didn’t expect anyone to awake yet, you were wrong. ellen and jim had some more places to go but didn’t want to take up your whole day so they dropped you back off at the house before continuing their list of things to do. when you got up to the front porch you heard the voices of multiple people, one being your boyfriend, and they were all yelling.

“this is all your guys’ fault! my girlfriend left because of you two and how you’ve been treating her.” you heard luke shout. you quickly realized you never informed luke of your last minute plans with his parents, you kind of expected ellen to send a message to him or to any of the boys to explain her and jim’s absence when they woke up. 

“luke calm the fuck down. her car is still out front, she obviously didn’t leave.” jack’s voice was heard as you tried to open the front door, of course it was fucking locked. 

“her luggage is gone, her room is spotless, it looks like nobody has stayed in it for weeks.” luke voice was breaking. you quickly knocked, more pounded, on the door needing someone to let you in. shortly after your began hitting the door it was opened, you didn’t recognize who it was so you knew it had to be one of quinn or jack’s guests.

“found her.”

you pushed past him and made your way to the living room where everyone was at, dropping your bags and wrapping luke into a hug. he noticeably relaxed under your touch, he grabbed onto you like his life depended on it and you heard muffled sobs against your neck where his face was buried into.

“i thought you left me.” he said, you were the only one that heard it he was that quiet. 

“i’m so sorry luke, i–” you were going to explain what happened but you were cut off before you could continue.

“where the hell did you go?” you weren’t expecting that question, especially from who it came from. jack looked at you, anticipating your answer. you stood shocked, the genuine worry in his tone was enough to throw you off balance and leave you unable to speak. your silence seemed to just agitate him. “luke was worried sick. i get that you’re upset with me and with quinn, i do, we have been treating you horribly, but pulling this shit, causing us all to worry for you and your safety, just to get back at us is not okay.” 

you felt bad, until he said that. “jack i didn’t run away as a form of revenge, i didn’t even run away, i went out with your parents. they thought i could use a break from everything going on here, and they were right.” you detached yourself from luke, your heart cracking a little bit when he whimpered at the loss of touch, and went to grab your bags from earlier. once they were in your hands again you walked up the stairs, grabbing Luke's wrist in the process. “i don’t owe either of you assholes any further explanations.”

+++

“i thought you left me because of how my brothers were treating you.” once you and luke made it into his room he broke down again, causing the guilt in you to bubble up.

“i’m so sorry baby, i would never leave you. your dad invited me to spend the morning with him and your mom and i thought it would be good to spend some time away from the house.” you said, rubbing his back as you sat in his lap, chest to chest.

after a few more minutes and a couple more apologies luke stopped crying, his sadness replaced with a slight amount of anger.

“don’t you ever do that again. i am your boyfriend, you are my guest in this house, i don’t want this to come off as insanely possessive, but i have a right to know where you are.” you could only nod at his words.

“i’m sorry luke, it didn’t even cross my mind. i wrongly assumed your mom would tell you, or that you would still be sleeping by the time i got back.”

“hey i’m not that lazy.” his joking nature allowed you to further calm down, you both got what you needed to off our chests.

“i can’t believe i called your brothers assholes.” you groaned, knowing that would probably make them dislike you even more.

“they deserved it.” luke said, giving you a kiss right after. “anyways, it was hot.” 

“oh really?” you giggled, a blush forming on your cheeks as his hands began wandering.

“it’s a good thing i locked the door when we walked in.”

+++

it wasn’t for a couple more hours that you and luke went back downstairs, he thought it was time that you were actually introduced to the guests that joined you at the house.

“y/n this is trevor, cole, and alex, guys this is my girlfriend. y/n.” you smiled at them and said a faint hello, they all smiled back except for one. it was the one who asked luke who i was last night and opened the door for me earlier, the one who was now identified as trevor. he quickly went up to me and hugged me, taking me by surprise, i hesitantly brought my arms around him and gave him a slight pat on the back.

“it’s nice to finally meet you, i’ve heard many different things about you but i can already tell most of them were full of shit.” you smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “well we were all planning on going out on the lake for a bit, eat dinner, watch the sunset, you two in?” you and luke both nodded before heading back upstairs to get ready.

+++

the tension on the boat was very evident, you felt bad for the three boys who probably had no idea what had happened just a day before, you’d probably feel even worse if they did know.

luke was quick to gain your attention, talking to you about the most random things. you kept up with his conversation before you noticed that jack and his friends were huddled up and whispering on the other side of the boat, you wouldn’t have been bothered if it weren’t for them constantly looking up at you before going back to their gossip session. you began to feel a little self conscious, you made an effort to cover yourself as much as you could with the one towel you could find near you. luke noticed the shift in your focus.

“is everything okay? you seem distracted, i’m sorry if you didn’t want to be near them so soon.”

“no luke it’s fine, i just feel like they’re talking about me.” you tried to subtly motion towards jack and his friends. luke just glared at them, seeing what you were seeing.

“here come sit on my lap, i’ll wrap my arms around you and protect you from them.” you giggled at his joking tone.

“anything to touch me huh hughes?” you poked at him once you were in his lap.

+++

dinner was served, an assortment of caprisuns and beers as well as uncrustables were on the menu for tonight. you moved up to grab some for you and luke when you got into a conversation with cole.

“so how long have you and luke been together?” 

“ten months, our one year is in september.” you smiled, already excited for whatever the two of you would have planned for that night. 

soon you were whisked away into a conversation, more like interrogation, about your relationship. trevor and cole sat next to you while jack, alex, and quinn sat in front of you. the oldest hughes put your boyfriend on wheel duty so he was on the other side of the boat, shooting you a worried glance each time you made eye contact with him. 

“how did you meet?”

“we were in the same orientation group, we got paired together for this water balloon game.” you smiled at the memory, remembering how horrible luke was at simply catching the balloon.

“what are you studying?” quinn’s question caught you off guard, seemingly since for the past ten minutes all you’ve been asked about was his brother.

“i’m currently hoping to go pre-med, i will find out if i made it into the program in the next couple days hopefully.” you told him with a smile.

“so you wanna be a nurse or something?” trevor asked.

“no. if i wanted to be a nurse i would be in the nursing program.” you told him, taking a sip of the beer you were holding before continuing. “i’m planning on being a medical examiner, conducting autopsies, figuring out the time and cause of death of a person.” you could tell the topic of dead bodies made your small q/a crowd uncomfortable which caused you to giggle. “any more questions? or can i return to my boyfriend now?” the boys just shook their heads in response, so you got up and sat on luke’s lap.

“so how did that go? you don’t seem too tense anymore.” luke asked once you were both situated.

“it went decent, i think, they just asked about us the whole time.” he nodded at your answer. “-oh, but quinn did ask me a question about myself and just myself, nothing that had to do with you.” luke looked over at his oldest brother with a small smile, who returned it before you, unknowingly, interrupted the moment by asking luke to take some pictures of you.

+++

you spent the night in luke’s room again, the boys needed a room to stay in anyways, so you had convinced ellen and jim that staying with luke for two nights wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“i don’t want you to leave.” luke said quietly, stealing your attention away from the tv screen.

“i don’t want to leave.” you replied, shifting to face him.

“then don’t. i can guarantee my parents wouldn’t have any problems with you staying for another week or two.” 

“luke i can’t, my sewing machine and all my other clothing stuff is back at my house and i’ve honestly gone a little insane just going five days without it–” luke rolled his eyes at your reasoning, giving you a look of disbelief.

“seriously, a machine is the reason you don’t wanna spend more time with your boyfriend?”

“-also i get my pre-med acceptance letter soon, if i get in, and i want to be with my parent’s when that happens and i know that they’re gonna want to celebrate with a party.”

“i think if you want to get closer to my brothers, or at least have them get to know you, you should stay here an extra week or two. they mean just as much to me as you do and i’m not saying you need to be best friends with them, but it would be nice if you guys got to know each other more and spend more time together.”

silence, and eventually sleep, consumed the two of you. both knowing an argument would only start if you continued to talk about it.

+++

you woke up in an empty bed, frowning you got up and looked around the room to see if he was at least still in his bedroom, he wasn’t. you got up and began getting ready, throwing a pink bikini and some jean shorts before braiding your hair.

once you were downstairs your boyfriend was still nowhere to be found, you made your way outside where you saw his brothers and friends, luke was not with them.

“hey guys, do you know where luke is?” you asked the group, hoping one of them had an answer for you.

“he left like two hours ago, didn’t mention where he was going though.” jack answered, you nodded. “if you would like to join us, we were planning on going wakesurfing today, i don’t want you getting bored in the house by yourself.” you smiled at his offer and accepted, telling the group to give you a few minutes so you could grab some things for the boat, sending luke a text on your way back into the house.

to: luke <3

hey, where are you?

to: luke <3

i’m going on the boat with your brothers and friends so wish me luck lol

you packed your bag and joined the boys outside who were already on the boat waiting for you.

+++

an hour later you still hadn’t received a response from luke and you were getting worried.

to: luke <3

are you okay?

to: luke <3

i find it funny that yesterday when i did this exact thing you said you had a right to know where i was at all times, do i not have that right either? 

“y/n do you wanna try it?” my attention was drawn away from my phone to look at cole.

“sure, i don’t know what i’m doing though.” you replied, moving to take off your shorts and put on the life vest.

“didn’t do it before we got here?” alex asked.

“no, i had other things distracting me.” i glanced over at quinn who gave me an embarrassed smile before speaking.

“i’m sorry for that, i really am, it was uncalled for.” you just nodded in response, not really wanting to talk about it in front of everybody.

+++

you sucked at wakesurfing. you were able to keep your balance for thirty seconds at most before you slipped, or the one time trevor tackled you into the water. which of course was filmed and posted onto trevor’s story, the embarrassing scream you had let out was now viewable to his thousands of followers

once you guys got off the boat you quickly made your way inside to see if luke had shown up yet, he still hadn’t. you quickly opened your phone to call him but got no response, now you were mad. you two had talked about the importance of communication and the risks of not knowing where the other was yesterday, and here he was doing the opposite of everything he asked of you yesterday. 

to: luke <3

idk what the hell you’re doing right now but it has now been six hours since i’ve woken up and you’re still nowhere to be found and no one has heard from you. 

to: luke <3

i’m going to dinner with your brothers, so wish me luck, and if i don’t hear back from you by the time it’s dark i will send in a missing persons report.

to: luke <3

just lmk you’re safe.

you weren’t planning on leaving for dinner for a couple more hours so you spent some time getting the proper measurements for some clothes you would be working on, as well as studying up on how to knit a sweater since you would be trying that for the first time when you went back home. 

you didn’t change for dinner, just throwing one of luke’s michigan shirts on top of your swimsuit and putting your shorts back on. soon you made your way downstairs where it was just quinn waiting, everyone else apparently still getting ready. when you saw it was just him you quickly tried to make a run for it and go back to your room.

“you know you don’t have to avoid me, i think it’s about time we talked anyways.” quinn’s voice stopped you from going up the stairs. you wanted to keep walking away, you really did, but you knew you needed to have the discussion. you made your way back into the living room and sat on the couch seat furthest away from quinn. 

“ok let’s talk.” you started once you sat down. “can you tell me why you did what you did?” 

you got straight to the point, not wanting to spare any time. 

“i was just looking out for my little brother, i didn’t know you.”

“-you still don’t know me. the only information you know about me is my name and that i’m an aspiring pre-med student at michigan.” you interrupted quinn, earning a glare in your direction.

“yes. i still don’t know you, but i’m hoping that in the next two weeks that you’re staying here i can get to know you.” he finished speaking with a sigh, like it almost pained him to say those words. 

“wait what? i’m leaving tomorrow to go home, i’m not staying for an extra two weeks.” you were confused, your parents were expecting you home in the next twenty four hours.

“luke told me this morning that there was a change of plans and that you were going to be staying an extra two weeks.” quinn said, equally as confused. “did you not know this?”

you could only shake your head as an answer while you pulled your phone out to text luke.

to: luke <3

i don’t know if you were trying to surprise me with an extra two weeks at the lake house but i told you i couldn’t do that, my parents wont allow it.

from: luke <3

*image*

i’m with your parents right now, they said it’s okay. i’m at dinner with them though so i’ll talk to you later, but please wait to yell at me until i’m back at the lake house tonight. i’m gonna hit the road soon.

“that little shit.” you muttered, making quinn laugh.

“what did he do?”

“he has been ignoring my texts and calls all day, which is a problem on its own especially because of what happened yesterday, and now he is at dinner with my parents five hours away in my hometown convincing them to let me stay here longer than what was planned.”

“you don’t want to stay here longer? is it because of me and jack? because i meant what i said on the boat, i really am sorry. no matter what the circumstances were, i took it too far. i’m shocked it took you so long to call us assholes.” quinn’s last comment makes you laugh.

“i’m not gonna lie, you two are partially why i want to leave, but also because i know that next week more of your guys’ friends will be here and that ellen and jim are leaving, i just don’t want to intrude.” quinn nodded at your reasons.

“well if you do stay i think it would be a good time for me to properly get to know you, i would say that we could just start over and forget everything that happened…” he trailed off waiting for an answer from you.

“-not a chance. what you, and jack, did was not okay. i forgive, but i don’t forget.” before quinn could say anything in response the rest of the boys came downstairs and we all headed out to the cars to go to dinner.

+++

dinner was another interrogation, but this time it was almost all questions about you.

“so what do you do for fun?” that can be a loaded question, alex asked you it in hopes to be able to spark more conversations about things that might tie to your answers.

“well i like to design and create clothing, or add things to a boring sweatshirt from the thrift. i do lots of upcycling with things i find at goodwill.” you answered, not knowing how they would respond.

“do you have any pictures of things you have made in the past?” cole asked this time, you nodded and got out your phone. showing them some pullovers you had embroidered things onto, the swimsuits you had made from scratch for you and luke, the apron and hand towels that were gifted to ellen, as well as the ties and matching pocket squares that you made for the hughes boys.

“oh that’s the set you made for my dad.” jack said before pausing, noticing the embroidered initials and numbers on the ties next to the one his father owned. “were those our gifts?” he had gotten so quiet you were shocked you were able to hear it.

“yeah they were, still are if you want them, luke told me the colors of your teams and i went from there to make them.” you told jack before looking at quinn who had a matching look as his brothers.

“can’t believe you ever made gifts for them after how they had treated you.” trevor’s joke made you wince, it seems like they don’t know the full story. 

“well i didn’t do it to get on their good side, i did it just because i thought this would be something they would enjoy, something personal to wear before games or at events, and creating things for people is something i really enjoy.” you kept your head down while talking, not wanting anyone to see the emotion in your face. the waitress soon brought everyone’s food out, you thanked anything and everything that lived up above as something was there to distract everybody for the time being.

+++

once back from dinner you went to hangout by the docks and watch the sunset, the boys had dropped you off per your request because you desperately needed some alone time. after the sun had fully set and you were pleased with the photos you had taken, you decided to go for a swim, stripping off your shirt and shorts, shivering as the cold breeze of the night came over you. you didn’t give yourself time to rethink your actions and jumped into the lake, you were freezing but it felt good. the cold being exactly what you needed.

you don’t know how long you were out there before you heard the sliding door open.

“babe are you out here?” luke’s voice brought immense comfort over you, it felt like it had been days since you’d last seen him. slowly swimming towards the steps you made yourself known.

“yes” you shouted, stepping out of the water and onto the dock. luke quickly made his way towards you, stopping once he was at the end of the dock and could see what you were wearing.

“you look really hot in that swimsuit.” you blushed at his compliment, and at the way his eyes were raking over your body. “you shouldn’t be able to look this hot babe.”

“oh really?” you said stepping closer to him, looking at his lower half to see if he had anything in his pockets, he didn’t. “well, we should do something about that then.” you reached out to grab his shoulders and turn him around, leaning in for a kiss, but before your lips could touch you shoved him into the water. “that’s what you get for ignoring me all day.” 

you jumped into the water a few moments later, luke’s shocked face making you laugh harder. 

“what the hell y/n.” luke asked once the shock from the cold died down in him.

“it seemed like you needed some cooling down, also you spent the whole day ignoring me and then went behind my back to get me to stay an extra two weeks.” you replied, swimming up closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i have a surprise for you when we get back inside to make up for it.” luke’s arms instinctively wrapped around your waist. 

you stayed like that for quite some time, luke filling you in on his day and vice versa.

“so quinn apologized to you and said he wanted to get to know you during the rest of your stay?” you nodded at his question, making luke’s smile grow wider than it already was. “that is so great y/n.”

as you were about to add something to what luke had said the sound of footsteps made you close your mouth.

“yeah mom they’re out here.” jack yelled back in the direction of the house. “you two are in trouble, get inside.” 

+++

“so luke, do you see you and y/n lasting? like once you start in the NHL?” 

you weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but you knew that you had woken up while luke’s brothers were grilling him about our relationship. you didn’t open your eyes, you knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but they should know the risks of talking loudly while someone sleeps a few inches away from them.

“i do see us lasting, for a long time. i know you guys might think this is premature but i can see myself spending the rest of my life with her.” luke’s words made your heart rate pick up, “i want her to come to new jersey, but after she has completed all her schooling. i can’t ask her to give up her education for me, it means too much to her.” 

“but if she goes pre-med she will have a lot more years of school, it’s an extra four years and usually more. could you wait about ten years for her? is she worth it?”

“y/n is absolutely worth it, i don’t care how long it takes for her to finish school she is it for me.” tears had started to well up in your eyes, you couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore. 

you shot up from your spot on the couch and tackled luke in a hug, you had never doubted luke’s commitment for you, but to hear him say it, especially to people who aren’t the biggest fan of you meant a lot.

“i love you luke.” you whispered, a few tears spilling out. 

“i love you too baby.” 

you both missed the look his brothers gave each other, a look that said “maybe she isn’t so bad”

+++

 you didn’t make it into the pre-med program. your parents had opened the letter with you over facetime, you were crushed. yes you could apply next year, and every year after that until you got accepted, but you didn’t want to do that, you wanted to get into the program after one try and that didn’t happen. 

luke was there for you, he held you while you cried, comforted you when trevor accidentally got you a congratulations balloon thinking you were accepted, and stayed with you during the days even though you knew he wanted to spend time with people that weren’t you.

one day you did force him to go out on the lake, dylan and mackie had arrived that morning and you know he wanted to hang out with them, even though he told you he was happy to spend the day with you. you spent a lot of the day cleaning, with ellen gone the house started to look like only teenage boys were staying there. once you were done with that you made lunch and headed back upstairs to finish your next task. after plenty of talks with your parents, and a few emails with your advisor, you decided to change your major to business. all your life you’d been making clothes, you thought you might just make a career out of it because you enjoy doing it so much. you hadn’t told anyone other than your parents, you were scared to. you didn’t want anyone, more specifically luke, to think you were giving up on becoming a medical examiner just because you got one rejection letter. and you did what you did best when you were anxious about something, you made clothes and cleaned. when luke went back to your hometown last week he grabbed your storage tote full of all the essentials, your sewing machine, the brand new embroidery machine your parents bought you to celebrate completing your first year of university, and way too many fabrics. while you’ve been bunkered up in luke’s room, not wanting to face the world just yet you’ve made lots of items. ties for jim, a sweater for ellen, another bathing suit for luke, and today you were determined to make matching shirts for you and luke. you started with making basic white tee, you could’ve easily bought them but there is no fun in that, and then you decided to do a heat transfer of the design you picked out.

they were gonna be gag gifts, every year one of the frats hosts a “twin” party where you and your date show up in matching outfits and this year you and luke were going together. your shirt would say “i 🩷 my boyfriend” with an image of the two of you on the back, and his would be the exact same but with girlfriend instead of boyfriend. the creation of the shirts didn’t take as long as you thought it would, so now you were looking for more things to do, you weren’t able to make a decision as luke’s door was opened by jack. 

“hey me and quinn are going to get ice cream, would you like to come?” you accepted their offer, knowing that you needed to get out of the house. 

it didn’t hit you that this would be the first time you would be alone with luke’s brothers, ever. sure you had your conversation with quinn the other night, but now that jack was here it made you just as fearful, a bit more even.

+++

“so what did you do today? i know that luke went out with dylan and mackie, we haven’t been seeing you much.” jack said once you all sat down for ice cream.

“well i assume you guys heard that i did not make it into the pre-med program so i’ve just been in a small slump lately–” you were cut off by quinn.

“we actually didn’t know, but that makes sense why trevor felt so guilty about the balloon he got you.” 

“yeah, but today i actually switched my major. i’m gonna study business now, possibly entrepreneurship, i decided to pursue a career more based on starting my own clothing company.” you told the boys, who glanced at each other.

“well that is amazing, congratulations. have you told luke yet?” jack asked, beating quinn to speaking.

“no, you guys are actually the first people i’ve told, trying to avoid others thinking i’m giving up on pre-med.” the boys nodded at your reasoning, quinn decided to fill the silence this time.

“luke told us he brought up your clothing stuff, have you made anything?”

“yeah, i’ve made a couple ties, some shirts, a sweater, and a swimsuit.” you laughed at their shocked faces. “i’ve had a lot of free time since i haven’t been leaving the house.”

+++

it had now been five days since you switched your major and you still hadn’t told luke, even if you wanted to tell him you probably wouldn’t have the time to since he has been with dylan, mackie, and the couple other michigan players that have arrived at the house. this is one of the reasons why you didn’t want to stay any longer than a week, you knew luke was going to become distant when his friends showed up.

waking up to an empty bed became normal, luke and the other boys would do some training in the mornings. so like you did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, you got up and made your way downstairs to make breakfast. quickly distracted by the mess that had been made from what you assumed were smoothies or homemade protein shakes. you silently cursed whoever made the mess while you cleaned it up, then moving on to do some laundry. towels and swimsuits had been piling up in a very overfilled basket and you knew none of the boys were gonna do it. once the load was in you moved on to tidy up the living room, folding blankets, fluffing pillows, vacuuming. 

“stress cleaning?” you whipped your head around to see jack sitting on top of a freshly fluffed pillow and unfolding a blanket.

“no, why would you think that?” you said, while walking over to get him off of the loveseat to make it presentable again.

“because you still haven’t told luke about switching majors and the more you hold off the worse you think he is going to react.” jack stated, “also, you just kicked me out of my seat to do whatever the hell that is.” pointing to you as he sat down on the floor.

you scoffed and stopped karate chopping the throw pillow once it looked nice enough. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 “just tell him y/n, i’m serious. he is only going to be more hurt the longer you take to tell him, and you don’t wanna hurt my brother, i’ve just started to like you.” he smirked when you glared at him.

“haha very funny jack.” 

“what’s got you so scared to tell him anyways?” jack asked in a much softer tone of voice, patting the spot on the carpet next to him. 

you sat before sighing. “i don’t want him to think i’m giving up on something just because of one small hardship. all the time i hear him bragging to his teammates and friends about how his girlfriend is super smart and is gonna be the best doctor for the dead in the world one day, i’m scared to disappoint him.” you felt a couple tears in your eyes before you continued to speak. “i’ve seen him researching med schools near newark, one’s that have the best program for medical examiners. he believes in me, he knows i could do this even if i don’t, and i don’t want him to think i’m dumbing myself down to a bachelors in the most basic study field ever.” by the end of your small rant the tears had begun falling, they weren’t sobs but they were there.

“y/n, luke loves you so much. you getting a four year degree in business is not going to change that, yes he is your number one supporter when it comes to you becoming a medical examiner, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be your number one supporter when it comes to you being a fashion designer, or whatever it is you want to do i’m a little confused.” you laughed as jack continued. “do you know how much shit me and the guys have given him for some of the things he wears, we don’t even call him luke anymore he is just “simp” to us now, but he doesn’t care about that, he cares about you and your happiness, and if getting made fun of for wearing matching swimsuits with you or wearing a hat with your initials on it means making you happy, he is going to do it. he will be there for you no matter what because he loves you, and i can see why he does. you’re an amazing person y/n, and i’m so sorry for how i have been treating you over the past ten months. i know that sorrys aren’t enough to make up for what we did to you, but i hope it can be a start to us becoming friends because i need more people to bother luke with me.” you smiled and pulled jack into a hug, thanking him for the apology and kind words as well as forgiving him.

“one more thing, did he really refer to you as a future doctor for the dead?” jack asked, laughing a little.

“yes, it was so funny.” 

+++

you and jack decided to watch a movie while you waited for luke to come back from training, quinn soon joined you two on the floor after he had woken up. it was nice, there was no awkward tension, no glares being thrown in your direction, you felt like you were all getting along for the first time and that made you smile.

“um why are you all on the floor?” dylan’s voice cut the peacefulness that had come over the three of you, all three of you quickly looked away from the tv to see the boys all back from training. you made eye contact with luke who was looking at you with a shocked, but very happy, expression. you just smiled and gave him two thumbs up, before turning towards jack and quinn to excuse yourself. you made your way to luke and gave him a kiss and grabbed his hand to take him upstairs, but not before telling jack to switch the laundry loads for you.

+++

once you were in luke’s room he began asking you questions about what he had just walked in on.

“well i was stress cleaning and jack walked in on me doing it and somehow got me to tell him about all my problems, if hockey doesn’t work out for him you should tell him to join the counseling field, but after i went a mini rant about what i’ve been fixated on lately he apologized and we talked everything out and i think we are officially on good terms.” you said in one breath, smiling as luke wrapped you up in a hug.

“what about quinn? is everything okay between you two?” you nodded and explained that you had talked it out with him a couple days ago. 

+++

you and luke started getting ready for the dinner party that the hughes brothers were invited to and you were going as luke’s plus one, you didn’t fully understand what it was for but all you knew was that it was a semi-formal event, making it the perfect opportunity to have luke wear the tie you made him a few days prior, the one that matched your soft pink dress. 

as you were doing your makeup luke spoke up again, going back to your conversation from before.

“wait babe, you said that you were stress cleaning. what are you stressed about?” luke asked, walking into the bathroom and leaning against the counter. you looked at him through the mirror and continued applying mascara as you told him.

“about a week ago, after i got the rejection letter, i switched my major to business and entrepreneurship, to pursue a career in fashion. i didn’t tell you because i was nervous on how you would react, and the longer i kept it from you the more stressed out i got. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, i know how excited you were to be dating a genius and now i’ve let you down.” you looked at his face to see his reaction, but his face wasn’t telling you anything. 

silence took over the bathroom as luke tried to find the right words to say.

“you could never let me down y/n, yes i am a little upset that it took you so long to tell me, but i understand why you did it. i am proud of you and everything you have accomplished so far. so med school isn’t for you? you are going to kick ass in the fashion industry babe, they won’t know what hit them.” he smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his head on your shoulder. “i love you y/n, never doubt that.” 

“i love you too luke.” 

+++

you and luke sat in the living room waiting for his brothers to come downstairs, you began to get a little antsy as you feared you would be late if you didn’t leave in the next five minutes.

“would you two hurry up! y/n is pacing back and forth cursing you guys for making us late.” luke yelled up to his brothers, who quickly made their way downstairs.

“sorry we weren’t sure how to tie these ties.” quinn said once they were both at the bottom of the steps.

you looked up at them and instantly began smiling. “you’re wearing them.”

jack and quinn looked at you, both with huge grins on their faces, before pulling you into a hug. they were wearing the ties you had made them for the holidays, nearly a year ago. 

“we love our gifts.” and “better late than never” were said but you weren’t sure who said which.

you quickly called for luke to stand with his brother so you could take a photo of the three of them. 

“you better post that on your main y/n, show the world you have the coolest future brother in-laws ever.” jack shouted as he raced luke for shotgun. 

you don’t know how you got so lucky.

+++

note: OMG it’s done. this was a bit hard to write because the whole time i was horrified it would flop or people wouldn’t like it, and i’m still horrified lols (the ending is so rushed i don't like it). anyways i hope you enjoyed, feedback is so greatly appreciated. it lets me know what i’m doing that people like and what i could be changing about my writing. just hoping this one does number like lucky did. have a great day, love y’all babes <3!!

[littleplantfreak]

The Wheel - Umemiya Hajime

(From my earlier post this morning about how Umemiya would do the voices from his kid's bed time stories. I don't think there's any CWs. It's SFW and a x reader? but that's all i think)

Umemiya’s always been a reader. Whether it was his parents reading to him when he was young, him reading to his siblings in the group home, or just the gardening books he began to read as he started taking an interest in it, books were always a staple to him. It’s no surprise when your first child’s room ends up having a huge bookcase full of books, along with a few scattered toys and a piggy bank placed high enough that your three year old can’t reach it. Every night before bed, your daughter picks an armful of books out before waddling over and throwing them down. To her, this is one or two books, even though it’s actually around ten if you counted. She never stays awake long enough to get through all of them, but her efforts are nothing if not valiant.

The three of you squish up on her small bed while her pudgy fingers grab the first book on the pile. You start the narration, and she’s running her hands on the pages, tracing little goats as they’re frolicking through the pages. Just as the troll begins to speak, your husband takes over the dialogue after slipping on his reading glasses.

“Who’s that going across my bridge?” Hajime grumbles in a deep voice, and you can see your daughter visibly perk up. As the little goat gets past the troll, he gets more dramatic, and at the climax, he pauses the story.

“Is he gonna hurt the big billy goat, daddy?” Your little girl asks, bottom lip trembling in upset.

“I’m not sure, little star. Do you want me to keep reading?” He brushes her hair back out of her face as she thinks about it. She looks at the big billy goat, hand passing over the picture again, and even though she’s about to tear up with worry, she grabs your fingers and squeezes them tight before telling him yes, she does want to hear it.

He starts again, explaining that the big billy goat rammed into the troll so hard, he flew off the bridge and was swept away by the river. Your daughter smiles, looking at the three billy goats happily munching on the grass, and you can’t stop a giggle from rolling past your lips.

“Daddy’s pretty good at the voices huh?” you ask, booping her nose gently.

“THE BEST!” She yells before picking up the next book from the pile as she explains that you’ll do the same thing as before and Hajime will be doing the high-pitched voice of a baby bird trying to find its mother that has you snorting into your hands.

When she has a play date with some neighborhood kids, her and her friends are enthralled by him reenacting the story of Peter Pan, sword fights, and all while you’re making lunch in the kitchen. Even after you adopt her younger brother, your daughter listens to the same stories he’s told a hundred times before with the same adoration, sometimes jumping in herself to voice the characters she really likes.

Your son, now a teenager in high school, sits at a table in the local library, book open to a page he hasn’t turned in the past 20 minutes. He’s hunched over it as if to study, but his eyes flicker over to the corner of the children’s section every so often. There, a group of younger kids crowd around on a circle carpet for the weekly reading time, hushed in awe of the man reading a story.

“…and the big billy goat winds up to run headfirst into the troll…and he gets eaten!” No longer quiet, the kids are howling and shouting, and your son’s neck snaps in the direction of his father. Shutting his book, he pushes out of his seat, walking to the edge of the carpet.

“Dad!” He blusters, a little too loud to be considered decent in a library. Hajime just tilts his head towards him, eyes locked on with a grin on his face.

“Hey tiger, thought you were studying,” he says, playing at surprise.

“That’s not how the story ends, and you know it,” his son's eyes are serious, his expression bothered. He’s heard this story countless times, and the big billy goat never loses.

“Really now?” Hajime slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up from his chair, holding the book out close enough for him to grab. “Why don’t you show us how it ends then?” He grins, scarred eyebrow cocked in challenge.

His son realizes the trap he’s fallen in, looking at the pairs of eyes now burning into him, urging him to finish the story the right way. “…Fine. But everyone’s gotta listen because I’m not going back and rereading it if you start giggling with your friends,” he says, grabbing the book and flipping its pages, rewinding a bit before the climax so it won’t confuse the ones who were thrown off by the fake ending earlier. Hajime sits down on the carpet with the rest of the kids cross-legged, watching his son start out slow and nervous, but eventually his tone changes and slips into a grumbled voice, the big billy goat about go head to head with the troll again.

By the end of the book, the kids are up and crowding him, asking if he'll pleeeease read another story! Just one more, Nii-san the caterpillar one! No, he's gonna like the one with the bats more-. and the flush on his face rivals Sakura's when he was younger.

You walk in just as the kids start showing your son different books, pulling on his pant legs, and you can't help but laugh. You look at your husband, who's not giving any aid whatsoever.

"So you're pawning off your jobs now? What happened to the reliable Umemiya Hajime?" You tease, giving him one of the drinks from your shopping bag.

Hajime hums at that, a smile on his face. "He just so happens to be equally reliable. I think he's got a knack for it," he whispers, pulling you close so you're hip to hip, his arm wrapped around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jaw.

"Right, and this has nothing to do with the text from our daughter saying she's coming to visit in a few minutes? You told her to come down here, didn't you?" Accusation evident in your voice, as you check the time from the last set of texts in the family group chat.Your son's been talked into reading Paddington as the kids quiet down in rapt attention.

He doesn't notice his big sister coming in and snapping a quick picture of the scene in front of her until his phone goes off, and he's turning pink, fumbling, and trying to make excuses as to why he's reading to a bunch of kids. No matter what, she'll end up teasing him about it, so he's at a loss. It doesn't stop him from coming back next week at the same time, when his dad makes the excuse that he'll have to cancel the reading time this week due to an appointment if he can't get someone to fill in.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Imagine: being in a long distance relationship with deacon and you surprise him at home. He doesn’t know it and is still at the HQ. Hondo knows about your surprise and sends him home with a knowing smile after the shift. When Deacon comes home he finds you sleeping in his bed

Oh my gosh, this is adorable. I'm not totally sure if you wanted a fic or not, but I wrote one! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think!

Warnings: fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Long Distance to the Future

Since you left Los Angeles to take a new job across the country, you’ve stayed committed to Deacon and he to you. The job is supposed to be temporary, only it is indefinitely temporary. It’s been nearly three years since you started dating Deacon, but it will be your first anniversary away from him. It would be a lie to say long distance is easy, but it’s worth it. You haven’t used a single vacation day since you started, so you’re checking the price of flights to LAX, hoping you can afford to surprise Deacon for your anniversary. The first few months of long-distance were surprisingly easy since you were getting settled and forming a new routine, but now that things are settled, you miss Deacon more than anything. The screen finally loads, and you cheer in your quiet bedroom when the low price appears. You quickly book your ticket, prepared to see Deacon in person again. You text Hondo and ask him to call when he has time, hoping to get his help in the surprise.

Your phone rings less than a minute later, and you answer before the second ring. “Hello?” you greet, expecting Hondo.

“I have big news!” your boss cheers. “You got the promotion; if you want it, its yours!”

“Are you serious?” you ask, experiencing the second miracle in less than ten minutes. “This is such an honour, I don’t know what to say.”

“Think it over for a day or two then let me know, okay? Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“Thank you! I- can I sign the contract while I’m on my trip?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re off this week. Yes, we can do it online or we can just get a written acceptance and handle the paperwork when you get back. I’ll let you get back to your vacation, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Have a great time and talk soon.”

The call ends, and you lay back on your bed, kicking your feet up in excitement. Your phone rings again, and you see Hondo’s name, smiling as the pieces of your plan begin falling into place.

✯✯✯✯✯

The landing in LA is a little bumpy, but nothing can take the smile off your face. You practically skip through the airport, energized by your countdowns until you are back in the same time zone, state, county, and now, city as your boyfriend. Hondo is leaning against his car, smiling, when you walk out.

“Thank you so much,” you tell him, hugging him before he takes your bag to put in the trunk.

“I should be thanking you. He misses you,” Hondo replies as he opens your door.

“I missed him, too.”

“When do you leave?”

You let the question hang, waiting until Hondo is in the driver’s seat with the door closed to answer, “About that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo drops you off at Deacon’s house, giving you his spare key to get inside before Deacon returns from work. Waving at Hondo, you go inside and lock the door behind you. You leave all of the lights off and hide your shoes and bags in Deacon’s closet so there is no evidence of you visible when he walks in. Checking your watch, you see that Deacon should be home in about an hour, so you order his favorite food for dinner and wait in the kitchen, away from the windows (in case he gets home early), for the delivery. Once the food is dropped off, you hide the containers in the microwave and throw away the bag before walking to Deacon’s bedroom to wait. The adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re getting tired, even though you know Deacon should be home soon. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you wipe your eyes before realizing how tired you are. You yawn once and fail to find the motivation to get back up.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Alright, Deac, head out and get some rest,” Hondo says. “The rest of us got behind on our paperwork.”

“Okay,” Deacon says, his brows furrowed as he walks by. “Have a good night, guys. Don’t work too hard.”

He walks out to his car, a little suspicious as to why Hondo seemed so eager to send him home, but he’s tired and misses you, so he’s okay with a quiet night at his house.

Parking in his driveway, Deacon sighs before exiting the car and going inside. He puts his backpack in the front closet and then walks toward his bedroom, ignoring the kitchen and planning to order food later. When he walks into his bedroom, he freezes, part of his mind telling him to get a weapon while the other works on recognizing who is sleeping on his bed.

He whispers your name and smiles when you move your arm, exposing your face. He sits on the edge of the bed beside you and lays a hand on your back, leaning down to kiss your temple. You stir slightly under his touch, unconsciously moving closer to him.

Running his fingers over your hairline and down your jawline, Deacon keeps his attention on you, questions to ask when you wake up flooding his mind.

You stir again and crack your eyes open. When you see Deacon, you sit up slightly and blink before asking, “Deacon?”

He nods, slipping his arm around your waist to help you sit up. You lean against him and look up into his eyes. You missed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to surprise you and didn’t realize how tired I was, I guess,” you apologize, pinching Deacon's shirt collar between your fingers.

He takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “Don’t apologize. I’m so happy to see you. Why am I seeing you?”

You laugh at his question, leaning against him as he twists you so your legs are draped across his lap as he leans against his headboard.

“I had a bunch of vacation days built up and.. I really wanted to see you. I missed you so much and our anniversary is coming up,” you explain.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you and Deacon say together.

“Well, it’s an excellent surprise. You didn’t leave any evidence you were here. Although, how did you get in?”

“Hondo let me use his key.”

“Hondo. Of course. That’s why he wanted me to go straight home. Are you hungry?”

“I ordered food. It’s hidden in your kitchen,” you reply.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know. You’re pretty amazing, too.”

“This was an excellent surprise. Thank you,” Deacon says as he pulls you to your feet.

“There is one more thing,” you say, squeezing his hand.

“Okay,” Deacon says slowly.

“I got a promotion.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he picks you up, twirling you around. You laugh, holding onto his shoulders. Your hands stay on his shoulders as he sets you back down.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“That’s not the good part.”

“What’s the good part? That seems pretty good.”

You lean up, close enough to kiss him, as you say, “It’s in Los Angeles.”

Deacon closes the small gap, kissing you like you’re his source of life. When you finally pull back, breathless and feeling whole with Deacon in your arms, you know you made the right decision to come home and take the job.

“Did you forget about the food?” you ask, laughing as Deacon kisses your cheek.

“We can reheat that. I had food earlier, I haven’t seen you in,” he looks at his watch to say, “11 months, 2 weeks, and 14 hours.”

“No minutes?” you ask.

“Just this one,” he replies, pulling you in just to push you backward onto the bed where he found you.

You laugh and cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Deacon Kay.”

“I love you,” Deacon says, his eyes glancing toward the top drawer of his nightstand, where a black velvet box is hidden. Future Mrs. Kay, he adds to himself.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Perv!Colin Gray~Headcanon

warning : dark thems, obsession, obsessive thoughts, one-sided love, filming without consent, implied murder, recording without consent, yandere-behaviour, no use of Y/n

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°Since he looked under the shady tree to escape the summer sun and saw you, he had given his dead, cold heart to you. Had fallen for you.

°It seemed to be the same as the infinite love of Count Dracula for his Mina. At least that was how it was for the black-haired one. In his eyes you were destined for each other. He is hers and she is his, the only thing that was right for him. She was his new obsession.

°Since that day he tried to get as close to her as possible. Be it just a look, a smile, a conversation or even a discreet touch. It was all just another proof of love for him. And he enjoyed every single one of them. It was like a kick to try again and again. The more and longer he had contact, the more nervously in love and possessive he became.

°You had a few classes together and every hour his gaze was on you while his other hand moved over the paper with the pen. He drew and wrote down things that came to his mind. Whether it was your smile, which he returned, your eyes, which only looked at him. Or your naked body as he imagined it and that more than once.

°More than once he had reached for his mobile phone or his camera. Recorded everything of you when you belonged to him. Whether it was a look in his direction, a particularly sweet smile or when you leaned forward somewhere. Leaning back and your chest was clearly visible, stretching and your belly was visible. Or when you were kneeling down and your smell was coming up and you were presenting your panties to him.

°Everything you did was just for him. You were so innocent, unaware of your love. Unaware that you had no choice but to reject him. And in secret with his friends who had more influence than you would think, spread rumours about those who wanted to harm you. He protected you, protected you like Dracula protected his Mina. He would give you no choice, sooner or later you would come to him.

°Only when his attempts to get closer to her became more futile, he decided. You would only have to recognise his love for you. And first every Wednesday, then every two days, then every day a card, a poem or a cd would find its way into her locker. And he would stand nearby filming you opening it to see what you thought of it.

°He would have wanted to fall into her arms and explain who had left those presents in her locker when she came up to him. ,,Hey Colin, tell me you know a lot about poetry and stuff. Someone's been slipping me little gifts for weeks now, so to speak. So I wanted to ask if I could come to your club?" she asked and he could hardly believe his luck.

°You're starting to get it, he thought happily and said hastily, ,,Yeah, sure, then we can look together," before she happily pulled him into a hug. He would have loved to never let go of you again. Just leave you in his arms. Just stay with him. Sooner or later you would be like that.

°The day in question only came because he had prepared himself specially. He had prepared the room with a recording device that would pick up your lovely voice. Everything you would say he would record. Listen to it in his room, over and over and over again.

°When the door opened and you came in, you looked around at the posters, poems and posters with pictures. He saw your little smile, your curious but ignorant look. Saw you carrying a box with the things he had given you. Saw how the short top clung to your upper body. Your bra with lace showing underneath. As if you wanted him to see you like this.

°His fingers ran over the rosary that was wrapped around his arm. It seemed to cost him every ounce of strength not to throw himself in front of you and confess everything. His sins, his fantasies, his deeds, what he had done. Hoping you would pull him to you and kiss him back. Maybe even rebuke him for his immoral behaviour. Confessing what he imagined while touching himself, thinking only of you. A sigh almost escaped his lips.

°The two sat down at the table and went through the things together. He knew each one by heart, knew exactly what he had written. Everything brutal, everything loving, everything erotic, everything sinful that he had written down was only for you. He concentrated only on you and your voice. Saw how you took a poem and he asked you to read it out. Saw how you seemed to get warmer and your cheeks turned a light pink.

°He knew you had chosen the darkest and most perverted poem. How your voice almost broke under the praises you received. How you described his love for you. As you described what he had done. But she had no idea, no idea what he wanted to do with you, no idea what would happen.

°He would leave you no choice, you were his forever. Before you finished the poem you looked at him, slightly unsure. ,,You did well," he praised and tried to encourage you to continue. He saw you looking at him gratefully before your hand came to yours. You grasped it and squeezed it gratefully before saying his name. ,,Thank you Colin" it was three words and yet the scene burned itself into his mind.

°Burned in and in and in. Until you said goodbye to each other he hurriedly took the recorder and drove home in his car. He heard your voice as he pressed play. He heard your loving soft voice saying his name. He would have given anything to touch you again for so long. And he knew it was all just beginning. You were his and one look at his knife told him. He would do anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[vodika-vibes]

Okay for the 650 follower event. I'm thinking something spicy~

Maybe Alpha or Boba in a Western AU ( Bonus points, though not required, if you can work in careful princess if you use Boba 🙈)

Fancy

Summary: Jabba, an absolute slug of a man, has been ruling the small town that you call home for your entire life. When you hear about the new bounty hunter in his employ, you fear the worst. Though, as it happens, Boba Fett isn’t half the monster that you feared.

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!Reader

AU Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 2444

Warnings: Reader runs a brothel, smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Alright, I wasn't able to add the actual smut part without it throwing off the flow of the story, but it goes right up to the smut part and then stops. I hope you like it. Also, when I wrote it I was picturing ROTJ Boba.

“Madame,” You lift your gaze from your ledger at the soft voice of one of your girls, “I...have you heard?”

“I hear a lot of things,” You reply, scanning the girl for any visible injuries, before dropping your gaze back to your ledger, a frown pulling your lips down. Once Jabba takes his cut, you’re going be barely make any profit this week.

“Honorable Jabba has hired a new bounty hunter.” You lift your gaze again. You hadn’t heard that. “Do you...will he be...do you think he’ll be like the other ones?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, “But so long as you’re nice to the gentleman-”

“They’ll be nice to me, yes Madame, I know.” The girl, because that is what she is, only recently nineteen, smooths her long skirts and straightens her corset, “We will be opening soon?”

“We will. All of you have been reserved for the evening. With familiar names,” You reassure, and you’re relieved to see some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “Off you trot,” You don’t turn your gaze back to the ledger until you hear the soft click of her bedroom door shutting behind her.

And then you drop your gaze back to the numbers in your book.

Maybe, with some careful editing, you can make Jabba believe that you made less money then you actually did. And then you’ll be able to afford the food that your girls need to survive.

It’s not as if the slug himself checks your numbers.

And his accountant has always had a soft spot for you, and your home.

You are the sole owner and proprietor of the Desert Rose, the only brothel in the town of Old Ashton. You used to be a regular employee, yourself, until some clever gambling and even more clever money hiding allowed you to buy the previous owner out.

So now you protect the girls to the best of your ability.

Unfortunately, the best of your ability isn’t good enough.

You close your ledger with a snap and slid it into the locked drawer in your desk, and stand. You smooth your dark green skirt and make sure your corset is laced properly, and then you head to the front of the house.

You may not entertain the gentlemen anymore, but that doesn’t mean that you can neglect your appearance.

The men are already lined up at the door, joking and laughing with each other. And, as you open the door, they settle themselves into a more respectful manner. They know that you will toss them out if they become a problem.

You have before, after all.

“Gentlemen,” You greet with a dainty smile, “Welcome to the Desert Rose. The girls have been eagerly awaiting you.”

It’s all a show. An act.

Honestly, you should have gone into show business with how skillful your acting skills have become over the years.

While you’re not sure if the gentlemen believe your words, they at least pretend that they do. Which is good enough.

You allow the men into your home and take the payments in advance, before you send them off to the girl of the night. And then your home is silent, save for the sound of music playing from the old jukebox in the corner.

Shelling out credits to make all of the rooms sound proof was the cleverest thing you’ve ever done. Right up there with the panic button you had installed in each girls room.

You’re about to change the song playing, when the bell over the door chimes as the door opens.

“Terribly sorry,” You say absently, without turning away from the jukebox, “But all of the girls have been spoken for this evening.”

“A rather small brothel you’re running,” The voice is deep and unfamiliar to you, and is surprising enough to you that you turn your attention away from the machine in front of you to regard the man.

He’s tall and broad chested, he takes up a lot of space in your foyer, though it almost seems like he takes up more space than he physically should. He seems to be allergic to color, you note with some distant amusement, everything from his boots to his hat are the darkest black. The only color coming from the dark green shirt he’s wearing.

“Old Ashton is a small place,” You reply as you walk around him and settle behind your desk, and you favor him with a small smile, “Welcome to the Desert Rose.”

He stalks towards the desk, there’s no other word for how he moves, “Boba Fett.”

“Ah. Jabba’s newest muscle.”

“So the rumors have already started.”

“As I said, small town.” You open your scheduling book, “If you’re looking to spend time with a girl, I’m afraid you’ll have to make a reservation. All of my girls are booked for the night.”

“Including you.”

You tilt your head to look at him, “I no longer entertain gentlemen callers, Mister Fett.”

His dark eyes scan you as best as they can with you seated behind the desk, and you’re fairly certain that he’s looking down your top. “Never?” He questions.

“Never.” You confirm.

“Hm.” He finally tears his gaze away from your tits and flashes a small, cocky, smile, “I bet I can change your mind.” He nods at you once, and then turns and leaves as suddenly as he arrived.

The front door closes with a quiet click, and you release a quiet breath. Cockiness isn’t attractive, you’ve never thought that.

But you like to think that you’re pretty good at reading men, and that didn’t read like cockiness to you. No, it reads as confidence. And that makes him incredibly attractive.

You tap your pen against your lower lip, and sigh, “Shame that he works for Jabba, though.” You murmur to the empty foyer, before you go back to work. Your business isn’t going to run itself, after all.

The next time you see Boba Fett, you’re doing your shopping for the week. Not shopping for the girls, but for yourself.

You’re window shopping, to be more specific. Eyeing a lovely green skirt that would pair amazingly with the dark brown corset that has been sitting in the back of your closet...and naturally a new dress would require new boots-

You almost manage to talk yourself into buying the skirt, when you hear heavy footsteps stop next to you.

“It’s a lovely color.” A deep voice, familiar in it’s unfamiliarity, jolts you out of your thoughts. “You’d look very good in it.”

Boba Fett stands less than a foot away from you, his head tilted down as though his words are for your ears and your ears alone.

“I look good in everything,” You reply lightly.

“I imagine you look good out of everything too,” He counters with a sly smirk.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

“Oh, I did wonder. Repeatedly.” There’s no shame in his voice, and you’re grateful that your thick makeup is hiding the blush you can feel burning your face.

Hurriedly, you change the subject before he notices your embarrassment, “I’m surprised that Jabba let you off his leash long enough to come to the market.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He drawls.

“And what job would that be?” You shoot back, “Terrorizing innocent shopkeepers.”

Boba’s dark eyes pin you in place, and you refuse to back down out of sheer stubbornness, “Careful,” He murmurs, “Your sharp tongue is going to get you in trouble.”

“From you?”

He leans back, and somehow still takes up more space than a man his size should, “No. I don’t raise my hand against women. But Jabba is much less kind than I.”

“And yet you work for him anyway.”

“Credits are credits, darlin.” Boba scans your body with a casual ease that should have infuriated you, but for some reason, didn’t. “And you clearly agree, seeing as you run a whore house.”

“It’s a brothel, not a whore house.”

“A brothel is a whore house. You’re just arguing semantics now.”

You prop your hand on your hip, “I’m leaving now.”

“What about your skirt?”

“With the tithes that Jabba demands, I can’t afford it anyway.” You admit with a scowl.

Boba gazes at you thoughtfully, and then he nods and turns his gaze back tot he clothing in the window.

Assuming that he had nothing more to say to you, you cast one last longing glance at the skirt, before you turn and walk away. It’s probably a good thing that he showed up when he did, there’s no way you would have been able to afford the skirt and food for the week.

Later, as you’re putting the groceries away in your private studio, you admit to yourself that even without the skirt, you barely had enough money to get all of the food that you needed for the week.

As you open the Desert Rose for the evening, you come to the realization that you’re going to have to put yourself back on the roster to be able to keep food on your table, and to keep your girls fed.

Once more, several hours after the last man arrived for his appointment with one of your girls, the door opens and Boba walks into the foyer.

“Seems to me that you have rotten luck, Mister Fett.” You drawl without looking up from your ledger, as if staring at the numbers will make your reality less horrifying. “All of the girls have been spoken for.”

“There’s only one girl I want to take me to her bed,” Boba replies as he sets a box on the counter and pushes it in your direction, “For you.”

“What is it?” You ask, ignoring his first comment with ease.

“Open it and you’ll see.”

You squint at him suspiciously, and then nod slowly. You tug on the ribbon that’s holding the box closed, and move the lid and the tissue paper to the side, and then you stop as you see what’s in the box.

It’s the skirt.

More than the skirt, actually. It’s a whole outfit. Skirt and top and stockings and boots-

“What-?”

“A gift, for you. You deserve nice things.”

“How much did this cost?”

“Not so much to break the bank.” Boba replies with a wave of his hand, “The seamstress knew what size you wear, so everything should fit.”

You stare at the present for a moment, and then you groan and drop your head, “Whyyy? You work for Jabba! Why are you so nice?”

Boba watches you seriously for a moment, “Is that the only thing stopping you?”

“I...what?”

“Me working for Jabba, is that the only thing stopping you from taking me to bed?”

“...It isn’t helping, no.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He doesn’t answer and instead leaves the building, leaving you staring after him, absolutely bewildered, and with a brand new outfit sitting in your hands.

In truth, you don’t expect to see Boba again that night, so when he returns to the Desert Rose less than an hour later, something cold and grim in his gaze, you’re genuinely surprised.

“Welcome back?” You offer hesitantly, not sure what to make of his grim, yes strangely satisfied, expression.

“Jabba’s dead.”

His words are so startling that you almost drop the glass that you’re holding. “What?”

“Jabba’s dead. Wasn’t even hard, thought he’d have more guards.”

“You killed-!” Your voice is pitched higher than it should be and you could and lower your voice, “You killed Jabba? Why?”

“Because it’s what I was hired to do.” Boba says with a single arched brow, “And because I’m not blind, I can see what he was doing to the village. And then he insulted your honor.”

His words roll around your mind for a moment, “You killed Jabba, in part, because he insulted me?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

You walk over to him and reach out to lightly touch his cheek, “You’re not...hurt?”

“He didn’t touch me.” Boba confirms.

For a moment you stare at him, trying to determine if he’s lying to you, and as soon as you realize that he’s speaking the truth, you drop your hand from his cheek and hook a finger in his belt loop, “Come with me.”

There’s a glimmer of triumph on his handsome face, “Yes ma’am.”

Your personal apartment is pretty small, but it’s big enough for what you have planned, and for what he has planned for that matter.

Boba’s on you the moment he kicks the door shut, his hands heavy as the drag over the thick material of your clothes. He tugs at laces and pulls at buttons, until your dress falls to your feet.

“Beautiful,” He growls as one of his hands slides down your back to tightly grip your ass, his fingers digging into you and causing you to lift to your toes with a pleased gasp.

“Thank you,” You murmur, before you pull him down to press your lips against his.

Boba takes control almost immediately, and you happily let him.

He lifts you into his arms and walks you over to your bed, where he drops you in the middle of the mattress, “I’m going to ruin other men for you, princess.” He warns, as he starts to strip his clothes off and tosses them to the side.

You scramble to your knees, eager to watch him strip for you, and he shoots you an amused look.

“Someone’s eager.” Boba teases, not unkindly, “I’m going to use my mouth on your cute pussy, and then open you up with my fingers.” He explains, his gaze locked on your face, a smirk crossing his face when you lick your lips, “And then I’m going to lay back and let you ride me.”

“Let?”

“Let.” Boba confirms, “Because I’m going to be in complete control the whole time.”

You shiver in delight and crawl to the edge of the bed, your gaze dropping to his cock. “Can I-?” You ask as you reach out to touch him.

Boba catches your wrists and smirks at you, “You want to taste me, princess?”

“Yes, please.”

“Later. Lay back.” He presses a hand against your shoulder and pushes you back to the bed, before he kneels between your thighs, taking care to toss your legs over his broad shoulders.

You can feel his breath fanning against your pussy, and you squirm to try and push yourself closer to him, but his strong hands stop you from moving.

“Careful Princess,” His dark eyes glimmer with amusement, “We don’t want this to end too quickly, do we?”

[aurumacadicus]

Can I ask for 124, 33 or 129, whichever you haven't done or whichever takes your fancy, please

Let's go for 124!

--

Steve wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He hadn't seen Tony since they'd broken up a few months ago. If he was honest with himself, he'd been planning to never see him again. He'd turned down parties if he knew Tony would be there, ducked out of rooms if he saw him unexpectedly, and one time, he'd even climbed out the bathroom window to keep from coming face to face with him. But Pepper and Natasha had finally proposed to each other, and he knew that Tony was going to be heavily involved on Pepper's side, and Natasha expected him to be involved as well, so.

So he wanted to face Tony on his terms, before Pepper and Natasha got deep into wedding planning. That way, they wouldn't have to stress about he and Tony getting along, and neither of them would have to be met with, 'did one of your best men climb out a window and leave?' at their wedding. And if he wanted to do it on his terms, he had to do it now, before they started touring venues and going to tastings, so he finally took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened a few minutes later, just a crack, and one bleary brown eye blinked up at him. "Steve?"

"Tony," Steve answered, then took a deep breath, ready to launch into the speech he'd prepared on the way over. He stopped, though, when Tony didn't open the door any further, and he took a moment to really take in the whole picture.

Just from the sliver of him visible in the door, Tony looked... tired. Like Steve had just woken him up. He fought the urge to check his watch. It was two in the afternoon. Natasha had said that Pepper had mentioned that Tony had started using his sick days and not shown up at work a few days each week. Steve hadn't thought much of it--he knew Tony had a weak immune system ever since his open heart surgery--but now, looking at him, he remembered how it had been a fight to get Tony to stay in bed and off his tablet when they'd been together.

"...Steve?" Tony asked, and now concern had settled into his voice. He opened the door a little wider, so Steve could see his whole frown, his furrowed brows. "Are you okay?"

Steve blinked. Was he okay? He opened his mouth, almost certainly to tell Tony he was fine, but as he took in more details now that he had more of a view of Tony, all that came out was, "Are you wearing my shirt?"

Tony's eyes went wide, and he made a sort of... noise. Dismay, or alarm, or... Steve couldn't parse it. He was too focused on the dingy ARMY t-shirt Tony was wearing, the one he always complained about because 'first and foremost this is an air force house!' and because it was old and worn and couldn't he at least please buy Steve a new one so it looked clean out of the wash. It hung off one of Tony's shoulders, showing off a bare stretch of skin, a sharp collarbone. He'd lost weight.

"Okay bye," Tony said, voice coming out in a frantic rush, and moved back a step so he could slam the door shut.

Steve caught it just before he could, and there was a dull ache in the back of his hand where it mashed into the door jamb, but he'd worry about it later. "You fucking hate that shirt," he blurted out. He pushed the door open and followed Tony inside, only dimly aware that this was now technically an invasion into Tony's home. "You wanted to throw it away the entire time we were together."

Tony retreated another step, hands fisting in the fabric as if he could use it as a shield. "It doesn't mean anything, Steve. Stop... stop reading into it," he said, but he couldn't keep eye contact, instead turning his gaze to the floor.

"No," Steve answered, gripping his hands into fists. He noticed Tony's eyes darting toward them and very deliberately made them relax again, feeling hollowed out. He knew he wasn't the one who had put that fear into Tony, but it didn't make him feel any better, especially when he realized he'd just busted into Tony's space when Tony had been trying to close him out of it. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Just tell me why you're wearing my shirt."

"I can give it back," Tony started, voice flat.

Steve cut in over him, fighting desperately not to shout as he answered, "I don't fucking want the shirt back Tony. I want to know why you're wearing it when we both know you hate it."

Tony turned, just slightly, as if he hoped not facing him directly would help even a little. "You... left it," he finally answered when Steve didn't budge. His voice halted and paused awkwardly, as if he was also hoping Steve would take pity on him and accept that meager explanation, even though they both knew he wouldn't. "I thought... you were punishing me. Because you knew I hated it. So I put it on to prove I didn't care. And it. Still smelled like you. So. I couldn't stop putting it on."

It broke Steve's heart. He'd kind of known it would, though. "I didn't leave it to punish you, Tony. I left it so you could finally have the satisfaction of throwing it away."

Tony turned to look up at him again, eyes wide and wet. He looked more hurt than when they'd broken up. "Just because I complained about it all the time doesn't mean I would have actually thrown it out, Steve. I wouldn't have thrown away any of your things."

"It didn't feel like it," Steve had to admit. "You... complained about a lot of my things. Clothes especially. To the point that I made it a habit to check the garbage before I threw it down the chute."

Tony's shoulders fell. He looked so lost. "I'm sorry," he finally whispered, looking at the floor again. "I thought it was like when you complained about how much I worked. You knew that wouldn't change and complained, so. I did the same thing. I thought... I thought it was banter, I guess. Teasing."

"Looking back, I'm sure it was," Steve offered, but Tony shook his head, hand coming up to cover his mouth, so he figured it didn't really help. He couldn't help taking a step closer to him. "You liked that it smelled like me?"

Tony sucked in a wet breath. "Well. I missed you."

"I missed you too," Steve admitted, carefully taking another slow step closer.

"You climbed out a window to get away from me," Tony choked out, then sniffed wetly and covered his mouth again.

Steve came closer, almost within arm's reach. "I knew if I saw you, I'd embarrass both of us begging you to take me back."

"You wouldn't have had to beg," Tony started, turning to face him, and jumped a little when he saw how close he was.

Steve reached out to catch his shoulders before he could back away again, pulling him in against his chest, and Tony made a soft, wounded noise as he greedily leaned in, hiding his face in Steve's chest. Probably to hide the fact that a few tears had broken loose, but Steve was kind enough not to mention it; his eyes felt a little hot and damp, too.

"I don't even remember why we broke up," Steve murmured into Tony's hair. "I've missed you every fucking day since I moved out. I just want to see you in my shirts all the time."

"You shouldn't come back," Tony whispered back. "The shirt affect will wear off, and then you'll just be stuck with me."

Steve scowled, but he was glad Tony couldn't see it. "I wouldn't be stuck with anything. I didn't say I missed seeing you in my shirts. I said I missed you. All of you, even the most frustrating parts of you. I'd love you even if you decided you were only going to wear snowsuits from now on."

Tony leaned back, unable to help but sob out, "You still love me?"

"It's impossible not to love you, Tony," Steve promised, lifting his hands to cradle his flushed face and tip him back for a kiss.

[elixirq23]

Gloss

“Your lips look so shiny, it makes me wanna kiss them until they turn matte”

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

(DO NOT REPOST, ORIGINAL WORK BY ME A.K.A @elixirq23)

genre: smut, fluff

warnings!: soft dom;jisung x sub;fem reader, fingering, oral (f & m recieving), praise kink (like A HUGE one), nicknames. (I think that’s it, lmk if there’s smth else)

“Fuck.” You said, as you flipped a page of your book, realising you missed a page. “What’s wrong?” Your roommate, Jisung asked you. “I missed a page, now I don’t know what’s going on. At this point, I’m gonna fail the exam.” you sighed as you took another sip of your coffee. “C’mon, Y/N. Both of us have been at this for the past 3 months. If we still fail, then fuck it. We’ll run away with Minho hyung or something” he said, making little doodles with his black pen on the back of both of your hands. You giggled after seeing two penises with stars around them on both of your hands.

You chuckled at the thought. “You think he would let me come with you guys?”, and han nodded. “I’m exhausted. I really want to sleep, but I can’t.” you walked over to it and groaned loudly as you fell onto it, landing on your face. You felt breathless as Jisung lied on your back. “J-Ji I c-can’t breathe!” He stood up, and you squealed as he picked you up as he stood up.

“PUT ME DOWN BEFORE I STOP BUYING YOU CHEESECAKES AND COFFEE YOU IDIOT” you sighed as he gently seated you on the bed. He sat down beside you and started laughing. His adorable heart shaped smile and Adam’s apple showed, and your heart melted at the sight. His hair looked messy. They slightly covered his eyes, which were barely visible because he was still laughing his ass off. His cheeks were pink and puffy, and you wanted to squish them until they were completely red. You’ve liked jisung for a while now, but have been too oblivious to figure out that he fell first and fell HARDER.

“You need to calm down, and I’ve got just the trick.” He said while you walked back to your desk, shaking your head no. “Sorry, ji, but not today. I really need to study.”

“Please, just for today? For me?” He said, giving you the puppy eyes. You groan as you say, “fine, but just for today.” as he jumps up and down like a little child on Christmas morning. Next think you know both of you are in a convenience store, eating ramyun with ice-cream and drinks. Both of you got the spicy ones since you like competing to see who can take it, and you got choco chip cookie ice cream with a cold coffee, while he got a strawberry ice cream with an iced mocha.

“Bro, Jae-hoon and Hannah are literally couple goals. They went on a date the other day, and Jae decorated that crusty ass gazebo near the river in that abandoned vacation home with flowers and light and pictures and stuff.” Han said, stuffing his face with more food.

Your eyes widened, “How come Hannah didn’t tell me?! Well, I know Chan hyung won’t be to happy about it!” You said, laughing as you thought about how he would react. Both of you started mocking him before throwing away the trash and buying some more snacks. You ran to the dorm, once again racing each other, and gave your favourite old security guard some food.

Both of you played some games together, and had some snacks as well. You had completely forgot about the tests. Until the game was over. You both just looked around, until you faced each other. “I- I’ll be honest. I’m thinking about the exam.” You said, not being able to take the silence anymore. He sighed. “Same.” You both thought of some things to do together, but in vain. “I’ma go change into more comfy clothes. Be right back!” You said as you walked off to your room. You changed into some grey shorts and one of Jisung’s purple shirts. You removed your bra and sighed in relief because it had been suffocating you all day. You put on a little lip gloss, because why not? You liked it!

As you walked into the living room, Jisung’s eyes widened. He was glad the lights were dim, or he would’ve been fucked (pun intended). His breath got caught in his throat when he saw you in his shirt and some really short shorts. He felt shame and embarrassment any time he thought of you like that.

But right now, you were making it really hard (quite literally) for him to not do so. Your nipples poking out of his shirt, and your beautiful thighs on display. Oh god, and your beautiful, plump lips. He’s imagined kissing them and watching them moan his name. He loves them, so much. He gulped as you sat down and ran your fingers through your hair. “So, did you think of anything to do?” you asked him, still unaware of the bulge in his sweatpants. “Uh, no.” He quickly replied, getting harder by the second.

you looked at him, confused, until you noticed it. “Oh.” You accidentally said out loud, and he covered his face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry” he said, looking away. “Uh, don’t worry, ji.” You said, smiling. Your smile fell when you spoke the next part, “Um, is it- is it because- of me?” You asked, your voice no louder than a whisper.

“Um, y-yeah?” He said hesitantly. You pressed your lips together, and gathered up all the courage you had. What other chance will you get? “C-can I help? Only I-if you want though” you said, fidgeting with your fingers. He looked at you as if he’d seen a ghost, but quickly cleared his throat and mumbled a quick ‘sure’. You kneeled on the floor and looked him in the eye once more before slowly pulling down his sweats and boxers.

whoa. He’s… huge. You were basically drooling as you spread the drops of pre-cum on his length. He bit his lip to suppress a moan, and you said, “no, ji. Don’t hesitate. Be as vocal as you want” you said, before wrapping your lips around the tip of his length. You began bobbing your head up and down slowly, and Han groaned at the feeling. You slowly quickened your pace. You looked up to see han, and oh my god. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Beads of sweat flowing down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed shut and lips in a line. His moans and whimpers just made it so much better. You felt yourself getting more and more aroused, and Jisung began getting louder. You went faster, and felt his cock twitch in your mouth. You let out a low groan and that just finished it for jisung. He emptied into your mouth with a high-pitched whine, said your name followed by a few curses and you wiped the cum off the edges of you lips.

“That was… amazing Y/N… thanks” he said. “Um, can I- may I- only if you want, uh- help you out?” he asked, and you blushed. “Oh um, are you s-sure?” you spoke and he nodded. You sat next to him and he looked into your eyes. “C-can I kiss you?” He asked, and your heart did a flip. “It’s just, your lips still look so shiny, and, you kinda just sucked me off so-”

“JI!” you said as he raised his hands. You nodded before connecting your lips together. He adjusted your position so you were now straddling him. Your hands were on his shoulders, while his travelled around your body. He snuck his hands into your (his) shirt and played with your tits. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed your right nipple and he snuck his tongue into your mouth. he thought your lips tasted like strawberries. He was obsessed, intoxicated. He wanted to kiss you forever, but he knew he wanted you to be pleased as well. He began trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck, then to your collarbone, and you whimpered when he found your sweet spot. He gently removed his shirt off you, and you did the same with him.

Once you were comfortably lying on the couch, he removed your shorts too. he took a minute to appreciate your beauty. “You’re stunning.” He said, and you blushed at the comment. “T-thanks”.

He took your right breast in his hand and sucked on it, and you gasped. He played with your other breast. “J-ji, want you to touch me” you said, not being able to talk properly. “I will, baby. Just want you to feel good, yeah?” he said before going lower until his head was between you thighs. He slowly blew a little air and you squirmed in your place. He chuckled before dipping his middle finger into your wet folds.

you gasped at the feeling. “You’re so wet, princess” he said before kissing your inner thighs. He licked a stripe up your slit and you whimpered, already bucking your hips. “It’s ok baby, I’ll make you feel good. Don’t get impatient”

he slowly sucked and licked your pussy and used his fingers to make an eight figure on your clit. You moaned loudly as he licked faster and deeper. You felt your high coming and Han replaced his tongue with his fingers so he could go faster. “Han-Hannie!” You squealed as he added 2 more fingers into your heat. “You’re doing great princess, you’re stunning” he said. He whispered other praises into you ears and kissed you hard, which did not slow his fingers down a bit.

he bit your bottom lip and swallowed all the moans of his name ans whimpers you let out. He went back down and licked your clit, and he kept hitting your g-spot, so you felt your high coming. “H-hannie, ‘m gonna cum! Please, let me cum!” you whisper, your eyelids getting heavy. “Cum for me, honey. Cum all over my fingers, pretty.” and that’s all it took. His words and praises just pushed you closer, and you came undone on his digits.

you were pretty tired, so he cleaned you up and made you wear one of his shirts. As both of you sat down on the bed, the room fell silent. suddenly, you blurted out “I like you. A lot. I’ve liked you since you came up to me in 8th grade and started singing that stupid song you made with chan and changbin, ‘Jogiyo noona hokshi namjachingu isseoyeo?’” and covered your face with your hands. Han didn’t say anything, he just tapped your cheek.

you looked at him, and he kissed your cheek. “I like you too, Y/N.”

you felt your insides churn up, and hugged him (more like tackled him on the bed but ok). You turned of the lights and checked the time. 2.45 am? Nice. You snuggled into his chest, and he held you close. “So does this mean we get to fuck often?”

“HAN JISUNG!”

Hope you liked it <3

(Do not repost, original work by me A.K.A @elixirq23)u

[bitterbutblue]

kokomi my love

when she loved me ☆ kokomi x reader

~ the amount of sad fucking relationship reels i got last night made me sad so now im projecting fuck u isntagram reels algorithm u made me CRY AT NIGHT

inspired by twenty five twenty one, 500 days of summer, u know the drill. if u guys want a full twenty five twenty one inspired long fic (with chapters) i am also down to write one.. i will cry writing it though

song: when she loved me - lyn lapid ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The summer she fell for you, she wishes to never think about again. Whenever a specific song comes on, she wants nothing more than to go back in time but also wants to destroy the very stereo the music is playing from. She finds herself haunted by her own movements, how they mimic yours and how she still thinks about what you would do before she does anything.

"Don't throw it-"

Laughter rang through the empty violet forests as you threw your head back, uncontrolled and raw. She found herself smiling at the sight of you, so loose and so happy. She couldn't help the laughter that began bubbling out of her own lips as she covered her mouth with her hand, doubling over. She didn't know why she's laughing so hard, she didn't know what was so funny but seeing you so unbridled filled her with giddy she hasn't felt since she was a child.

"That was ridiculous." She giggled and the way you grinned at her had her smile softening- the previous laughter dying on her lips as she feels an overwhelming wave washing over her. It felt like a lyric of a song she doesn't know the tune of, but it's a lyric she can hum from the beats of her heart. It felt like a way back to a home she has not yet entered, it felt like you. You finally composed yourself, running a hand through your hair as the beam of moonlight lit you up like an angel in the night.

"Nothing wrong with that, right?"

You walk up to her, picking up the jacket that had been laid on the ground, used as a blanket to sit on and dusted it off. You wrapped it around Kokomi, buttoning it up snuggly for her as she fit her arms through the oversized sleeves of your jacket, the warmth from the jacket and heart causing her to overheat from an overwhelming feeling.

She has that moment in a picture frame in her heart, like a photo album that had been abandoned and recently found, still dusty but holds a fortune of memories that warm you up. Except this photo album was cold, desolate. Found in a junkyard, memories of strangers and who they once were.

"Nothing wrong with that."

It's a sickening feeling in her gut, churning and spinning and she orders for Gorou to turn off the damn stereo as quickly as possible. He just obliges, not saying anything. She throws down her quill, shaking away whatever memories she has of you. Her eyes dart over her desk, with papers once organised but now strewn all over the place, a lingering memory of the evening you tidied her desk for her hits her hard and fast before suddenly fading into what it was- the past.

"You can't live like this."

A soft voice echoed through the chambers of her desk- she looked up, bleary eyed and you just sigh. You walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her from behind her chair as she leaned into your touch, visibly exhausted. Her shoulders sagged downward, her head resting against your chest as she let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding in.

"I'm doing just fine."

"Really?"

You nestled your head on top of hers as you took one of her hands into your own, interlacing your fingers together.

"It's late. Let's go home?"

''I can't." She mumbles, eyes closing as exhaustion finally settles in between her bones, filling themselves in every crevice and every little nook and cranny of her body.

"Yes you can, darling." You whispered, squeezing her hand softly "They can't have their leader collapsing on them from exhaustion, can they now?"

Like a siren's song, she found herself drawn to your voice. She couldn't even stop herself from nodding as she moved subconsciously, her body just following the sound of your voice as you led her out of her office.

The next morning, she found her office tidied. Her papers organised into a neat stack with sticky notes labelling which papers are which. She picked up the note on her desk and she felt herself grinning ear to ear as she readthe contents on the paper.

Good morning, my love! I organised your desk for you, hope that's okay. If you need anything just text me, love youuu <3

Her desk has been a mess since that day. She had no energy in her to organise her notes or to sort her files. She finds it too difficult to do now, her lack of energy every day being too much. Getting out of bed is hard enough, and she's really not in the mood to have to clean everything when she function with it being a mess just fine (albeit a little harder to get through).

She hasn't had the time or energy to go home, to take the walk down the desolate and empty streets just scares her now with the build up of what has happened. She finds herself taking another way, a route where she won't have to relive the worst of it all.

"Why?"

The broken expression on your face had her swallowing in guilt.

"I'm sorry."

"You say that every time-"

You turned away, taking a shaky breath in as you tried to calm yourself down and Kokomi just stands there like a coward.

"This is exhausting, Kokomi."

She looked down, fidgeting with her fingers as she drops her work bag onto a chair, unsure if she should approach you or not.

She should've approached you that night.

You instead turned around angrily, facing her again and the pained look in your eyes had her looking away now because it ate her alive, knowing that she caused you this much pain.

"Couldn't you just let me know earlier? You keep disappearing on me, I keep worrying about if you died out there or not-"

"I will-"

"You said that last time."

She looked down.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

She found herself not going to bed that night, sitting at the kitchen table as she listened to your muffled sobs through the door.

When Gorou tells her it's late, she just nods. The last thing she needs is to lie in an empty bed and feel the coldness of the night wrap its arms around her as an attempt to comfort her or to soothe the once-sharp pain, now faded into a dull thud with each thump of the heart. When she sleeps, she tucks her head into her arms, the hard wood digging into her elbows but the minorly uncomfortable pain is better than having to be overly consumed with her thoughts in the comforts of a bed.

She wakes up to a cup of tea in front of her and for a minute her heart leaps until she's hit with reality once more. She sees Gorou's handwriting and just wishes it was yours for a split second.

Kokomi, take care.

She screwed her eyes shut as she took a deep breath in, refusing to let you see the tears behind her eyes. You just stood opposite her, looking down at your shoes as tears fell down from your face and onto the ground.

"Was this my doing?"

The silence was broken by her shaky question as she finally brings herself to look up at you and she can feel her chest caving in again at the sight of you.

"It's not your fault."

Your voice was strained, as if you were using every atom in your body to try to make yourself sound as put together as possible.

"We've just grown so apart with all that's happened."

She has to stop herself from shaking, the entire world seems to be trembling until she realised it was just her.

"I don't want to say who's right or wrong. There isn't a right or wrong."

The evening chill that once held memories of cuddling under the stars is now just a sharp pierce through her skin, a blade running itself through each crevice of her beating and bleeding heart.

"We're making things difficult by blaming each other."

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to hold in the sob.

"You and I, we still care a lot for each other."

The words in her chest build up like word vomit.

"Did we have to come to this?" She whispered

"We were already coming to this."

She gasped when she felt a tug on her jacket, looking to see you buttoning up her jacket once more- your eyes filled with unshed tears as your trembling hands slowly slid each button through slit. A shaky gasp is let out as you tried not to sob, but it comes out choked as a tear falls and she couldn't stop herself. The shatter of her heart rang through the night as she feels the tear fall down her face, hot- burning a mark on her skin. She bit down on her lower lip once more, trying to stifle the sob but it still comes out and hearing your silent cries only made it harder for her to hold it in.

The dam breaks fully when she feels you pull her into a tight hug, and she knows this is the last time she'll feel your arms around hers like this so she holds on tight. The dam breaks and she sobs, loud and messy. The way you trembled had her feeling like she was going to shatter any minute. She held you as close as she could, arms tightening around your waist and hoping that maybe for the last time you two could just become one again.

"Let's not put ourselves through this again." You said softly, and she could feel your tears seep through her jacket- the jacket you buttoned for the last time.

She could only nod as she lets out a loud sob for the last time, and maybe the last thing you remember of her is the way she cries.

"Goodbye, Kokomi."

[god-has-entered-my-body]

can i just also. sorry for spamming your inbox. ignore me omg i'm sorry but. marking him up all pretty. with lipstick or even fucking sharpie i don't care. writing things like 'whore' across his chest because. that's what he is. then taking pictures. pathetic. yes yes. i forgot which colour my heart emoji was but yes it is i. god.

thoughts thoughts thinking too many thoughts

okay so scene: you're perched on top of him while he's laying down, grinding down onto his leaking cock and he's whimpering and moaning below you, eyes screwed shut in torturous pleasure.

The look on his face when you quite literally rip his shirt off him is priceless, the pretty fabric tearing down the front as you let your hands feel his heart beat in his chest. "Just- stay still while i work on you, yeah?" Matty nods quickly, eyes glazed over as you move on top of him, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.

The tube of lipstick is a deep purple, contrasting his skin in a way that made your head spin, the product smearing slightly as it glides along his chest spelling out a single word across it.

"Whore." adorns his chest, standing out like white against black as Matty whimpers under your touch, his hips bucking up to meet your core, the pressure to your clit making a small gasp escape you. You apply the purple color to your lips, bending down to press kisses all over his neck and chest, decorating him like your little art project.

With every movement you make, Matty moans in response, biting his lips between his teeth as you cover his body in lip prints, smiling when you pull back to admire your work. "Wanna see how pretty you look baby? Want me to take a picture for you?" Matty's eyes grow wide as you reach over to the nightstand and grab your polaroid camera, pointing it at him.

"Please- fuck. I love you so much darling, so fucking perfect." Matty whines, arching his back in response to you grinding your hips down once again, his head thrown back in pure bliss.

"Smile, baby." you whisper, quickly moving off his cock to palm him as you snap the picture, the flash illuminating Matty's face in full. His eyes are wet with tears of ecstasy, his skin glistening with sweat as the light reflects off his chest, the deep purple traces of lipstick even more prominent than before.

Letting the polaroid develop for a few seconds, you coo praises into his ear as he begs for release, twitching in your grasp. Once the picture is visible, you take a glance at it, your heart rate picking up when you then throw it to the side, focusing all of your attention on Matty.

You let your mouth kiss his collarbones, then his chest, then the pretty tattoo on his left hip bone lower, lower, lower.... xx

[sukunasun]

could we get mma!geto fics

deep sigh...

geto suguru doesn't mind getting up close and personal—but only when it comes to the fighting of course.

says he likes to see the pain and anger simmer in their eyes with every swing he throws, every punch that feels more like a bite. amidst the bloodied knuckles and broken bones, his body, his being becomes a weapon, like there's a beast housed in there. an unstoppable force. nothing holds him down, not an iron cage or the fear of loss, of death. so capable and equipped, not to win but to kill. he picks them apart by their weakest points, precise and powerful, striking where it'll hurt the most and leaving no traces but broken hearts and bruised egos behind.

"he's more than just a fighter," you say, with clenched fists and passion-flamed eyes, "in one word, geto's kinda...legendary," so enthused, so enamoured. it's not your biased heart talking here because you're an expert at these things.

although you wouldn't call yourself a fan when devotee sounds more accurate given the countless hours you've dedicated to research and impulse buying—scrolling through wiki pages, analyzing old interviews, watching late-night matches on a glitchy livestream, catching a tiny glimpse of his figure from a shitty seat in a stadium, or buying an ugly t-shirt from his online store when the one made by a fan artist is cheaper and looks way better in your opinion—still, you'll do it now and again because he isn't like everyone else, he is a perfect being, untouchable, you'll love him from afar like this, settling for whatever bit of scraps you can get hoping to get closer, and yet...

"you don't know me," geto simply says when he's come face-to-face with you. well, technically he's looking down at you from where he stands tall, heads above you. he's every bit as handsome as you'd expect, the kind no injury or scar could hide. you think to say something, gush over him, the man of your dreams in the flesh, a long-awaited meeting now realized but it's all too much. 

his sweat-glistened skin, his flushed cheeks, the soft panting breaths, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the way he ever so gently flicks his hair away, not to mention that dripping line of red that seeps from his nostril shouldn't make him look as sexy as he does, something about a bruised and bleeding man practically makes you swoon. oh how you'd always dreamed of this image, your imagination supplied you with multiple scenarios of him atop you and most preferably inside you too. 

to be this close to him, so close you could reach out and touch. but a bigger girl always takes the temperature of a room before walking into it, only now you've made the crucial mistake of forgetting where you are, and who exactly could be listening. "um...i didn't mean–" your eyes scan across a sea of judgemental eyes taking you in, contempt written all over their faces. there's a heat pooling in your eyes, a lump caught in your throat, visibly constipated would be the word to describe it, but geto doesn't feel pity for you. 

instead, his expression contorts into scorn, rolls his eyes at your desperate attempt to explain when you're choking on your words and flittering around like a headless chicken. he must think you're so awkward, so lame, just another one of those people with nothing better to do with their lives. "you should leave, you're taking up space," he says, pushing past you with a shove like you were merely a nuisance to him, your shoulder bumping into his torso. but it doesn't hurt honestly, not as much as the disappointment, the humiliation he's left you with. 

——————————————————

back home, you dismantle the shrine. an altar made with the labour of love, and many long nights spent crafting this holy site. suguru is a name you can't look at the same way, now riddled with sour definitions. mean, rude, arrogant, and all the synonyms bundled into one. suddenly, the pictures on your wall stare back at you differently, geto and his camera-ready poses, in designer pieces, perfectly curved happy smiles and sultry smirks turning against you. "he brushed me off like i was nobody, like i was nothing," you sniffle. 

with shaky hands, you tear them down hastily, omitting to start from the corners or to roll them back into tube containers. making it quick so it'll hurt less, like tearing a bandaid off. "psh, taking up space..." you shake your head in disbelief, "what a fucking asshole." 

stuffing the bins with crumpled magazines and the journal entries you were enthusiastic about, another collage you've put together, the pencil writings have faded, laser stickers peeled from the edges. however, the binders and photo cards have been kept well, pristine even, and you consider if there are notes and letters you wrote to him tucked into the spine, believing you'd send them someday, but you refuse to keep them.

flipping through, you can't help but cringe at the thought of a man being this famous as an athlete. you understand sponsorships and brand deals, but turning into a celebrity, a commodity...maybe it was an act all along, a persona he's crafted. there was no underestimating the man's capabilities, the ease and precision with which he strikes a punch or spews cutting words are unmatched, why would it be different when it came to your first meeting. 

"you've idolized him, it was a parasocial relationship at most..." you say. given the circumstances or the 'end of an era,' as you've put it, there'd be no other way to comfort yourself but with the hard truth. 

and it shouldn't feel this...hollow. an empty space left behind without any notice, like it ended too abruptly. you'd always known the phase would come to a close, but you had pictured meeting him at the end of an aisle, twirling in his arms under heavy rain, or a bittersweet goodbye at an airport maybe. anything resembling a whirlwind romance that would replace the daydreaming. anything but this. 

people meet all the time, people fall in love, was it too much to believe you'd be one of them. and you tell yourself you'll get over him, it wasn't meant to be anyway, what did you expect, that he'd see you and fall in love? you wouldn't know any different, the closest you ever got to love was...obsession really, he was never a real person to you. "all this for a man who never knew i existed." you're sure wherever suguru is, he'd be absolutely fine, happy even, and not the least bit gutted about what he'd done. 

——————————————————

the rest of geto's day plays out like usual—he fights, he wins, then tends to the nosebleed. nowhere in those allocated time slots for cryotherapy and post-match interviews does he think about you. or the way your eyes fell. or that he instantly regretted it the moment he left you standing there. 

across the gym, nanako calls from where she sits on a boxing ring,  "that wasn't nice, papa!" perching her head against ropes, her legs swing off the edge. beside her, mimiko nods in agreement, cuddling her dolly closer to her chest, "you were being mean..." she mumbles. the sandbag crushes and swings to the rhythmic, muffled beats of bandaged fists meeting leather. resounding, familiar, enough to tune out the disappointed tone in their voices. 

his punches come to a halt, "i know," he sighs exasperatedly. pressing his forehead to the sleeve and watching the sweat pool by his feet. drip, drip, he takes a deep breath in. willing himself to think of something else, anything that could ease the tightness in his chest, the grinding of his teeth. the guilt that bubbles up becomes unbearable, itchy and prickling all over his skin. heat creeping up his neck, to his ears, he's embarrassed, ashamed. he should know better, he'd been better. a part of him grieves, long gone were the days of geto suguru and his straight As and pressed uniforms, always thanking the teachers and using honorifics in between. 

geto learns that he doesn’t react to it as smoothly as he would like—your wobbling lips and puffed up cheeks, teary eyes shining, lashes clumping with tears, an expression he can't seem to forget, like your world was crumbling before your very eyes—he knew it was wrong, knew you were vulnerable and he did it anyway. 

when was the last time he got this hung up over a couple of badly chosen words, all for some fangirl?  you've got him giving away easy hits and fucking up his game-plan, ruminating. he's supposed to be training, working on his form, looking up the next guy he's meant to beat to a pulp and analyze his moves, all that and eating these tiny meals he abhors, the ones made up of bland chicken breast and broccoli. 

bottom line, he's meant to brush these things off as he always does. but the urge to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness is almost as strong as the urge to punch something. he only settles for the latter because geto never gets on his knees, and he never begs, the thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine, why does he even think of it as an option.

"she got to me didn't she?" is less of a question, and more of an admission but the twins giggle as if they know he's already done for. 

——————————————————

geto sits across from you at a crepe place a week later. famous for its strawberry sauce and the whipped cream they make from scratch, it's a good choice for a first date spot. the tables are covered in red and white checkered linen, there's an upbeat pop tune playing in the background, and sitting right between the two of you is a centerpiece made up of fresh daffodils. 

but this isn't a date. there's nothing romantic or intimate about it and how he's even managed to find you is still a mystery let alone what his intentions are with choosing such a scene. "my daughters like this place," is the only explanation you get. 

he's wearing what can only be described as undercover chic. greeted you by the door dressed in black head to toe. along with sunglasses and a face mask, but the earrings give him away. well, that along with the cut on his lip and the stitches over his eyebrow. "you got my letter," he merely states, without a 'hello' or 'thanks for meeting me on such short notice'. he doesn't mention why he's sent actual mail to your office instead of texting or calling like a normal person—how easy it was for you to recognize those familiar black inky lines scribing a time and place on paper with zoo animals decorating the edges—you might have ignored it, reported it, if not for the part of you that wholeheartedly gives into him, the infatuation still hasn't worn off. 

"so um," clearing his throat and keeping his voice low, geto's arms fold across his chest. it makes him look too big for his seat, bulky and broad, "about what happened the other day—" he chokes out.

"it's fine," you cut him off immediately. the last thing you need right now is to be reminded of it. took forever to wash away the embarrassment, to scrub off the eerie feeling of his dismissive gaze, his cold stare, a shining vaseline-lined face that would forever haunt you the rest of your days. "i don't even remember it," you wait for him to continue but he just..sits there. 

head tilting curiously, suddenly interested. "not even the part about me being...what was it you said...legendary?" he teases, laughing to himself. it sounds lovely, bright and clear. almost so good you think he's rehearsed it but you know it's just another one of those things geto does, that adds to his charm.

your cheeks puff up as you chew, the jam is sweet and so are the little slices of fruit. you munch and chew, growing annoyed by the second, "it's not that funny," you mumble.

geto brushes off your offended expression, "relax, it's nothing i haven't heard before, let me guess—you love me, you're my number one fan, and you want to ride me and have my babies," he lifts an eyebrow, a self-satisfied smirk appearing.

your fist clenches tight around your fork, "y-you don't know that for sure, in fact, you don't know me at all."  

geto scoffs, actually scoffs in your face, "i know what you're like, you're just another groupie who wants to get close."

"groupie?!" you exclaim, "as if i'd ever sleep with you after the way you've treated me—" your nose turns up at him, anger flaring up to the max, "i wouldn't want to be chucked around and felt up anyway, besides, you wouldn't be able to," you lie again, throwing the final jab to his overinflated ego for effect, to put him in his place. now emboldened by fury, by the urge to prove him wrong. 

you're so loud the other customers turn their heads, somewhere in the back a plate drops to the floor, the shock is evident. mainly because of how explicit you're being but....anyone would be crazy to think so. to say such a thing. how blasphemous. suguru is so physically strong that he forgets not everyone can split wooden blocks into halves with their bare hands like it were the easiest thing, hooking sandbags up to a rig with one arm, you've seen him breaking doors down with a mere shove in movies, and how could you ever forget that one picture of him holding two litre water bottles in his hand and having it look so out of proportion, dwarfed by their massive size.

there's no doubt about it, not only could geto lift and toss you around like a ragdoll, feeling you up any way he desires, but it would be effortless.

he starts grinning, "is that a challenge?" geto quips, smirking and suddenly interested in the half-eaten crepe. he gives it a once over, lightly jabbing it with his fork. contemplates if he should try it when he's been off sugar for years but maybe he'll make an exception now. he could always just burn the calories later, maybe do an extra sparring session with gojo over the weekend, but just for the occasion, he thinks he could indulge a little because he makes a decision then. 

"i like you, we should do this more often," he shoots you a look that isn't like the rest. assured, demanding, knowing you wouldn't deny him. "any objections?" leaning forward he cuts himself a piece of the pastry, lapping up every last bit of jam before he stabs at a large chunk of berry. taking a big bite of it, your eyes widen at the instant blush blooming on his cheeks because he more than likes it, in fact, he keeps at it til there's none left.

[matrixwhore]

iwtv ep 5 rewatch thoughts

opening with the scene within which i have built a home and become a permanent resident. right here in the moment rashmand smiles stupidly and louis slonks (🤭) every last drop of his blood. how anyone thinks they’re boring idk idk idk

they are being clear here that this isn’t consumption for the sake of sustenance. this is bloodletting as sex play and as power play. Danny is not having dinner. so its clear that this isn’t feeding as a meal but it is feeding as sexual exhibition at its most delicious. Danny is reading about claudia’s violent acts via the written recording of her victim’s last words while loumand basically vampire fuck at the other end of the table. this is also setting up the sexual violence to come for claudia and also for louis.

i think it is intentional that louis is the one feeding from armand for several reasons. one being because of what lestat does to him, which we see later on. this is power play for louis in a setting where he has voluntarily and possibly in some aspects dubiously relinquished control over to his lover armand. also bc of the connection between daniel and armand. they are revealing rashid as armand slowly here and his and louis’ involvement with daniel in the past. Daniel isn’t dumb. they know he can figure out the inconsistencies of louis drinking from armand and louis drinking from damek. this leads to daniels curiosity about how armand tastes like and his weight and louis puts daniel’s hidden attraction out on display against his wishes to throw him off. and daniel orders rashid around to take back some power.

i also think it’s a call back to the power dynamic of their first meeting. louis has power over daniel, and it seems he’s the one in control of the entire situation but then he checks in with armand before moving forward. in this moment in the present dubai 2020 setting louis has power over daniel (regardless of him no longer being that naive young man) and he plays the role of the one with the power over rashid, but the power he is receiving is from armands 500+ year old blood that he is offering to louis as the character he is playing. lord take me.

i think it’s interesting that daniel is feasting on claudia’s private memories but objects to louis reading and exposing his personal thoughts. even tho louis has shown time and again that he does that and would do it again. choices/consent is the big issue in this episode.

Daniel: man with green vest: please no. man with fat fingers: please stop. window washer: i can’t die like this. woman with purple shoes: please. boy with inner tube and dog: let my dog live. please no. please stop. stop. oh here’s a good one—man in the last row of The Son of Sheik picture show: You said you had cigarettes.

this is the first recounts we hear him read from claudia’s journal—claudia, who did not get a say in whether her voice and story be used by louis, armand and daniel in this way. He reads this and it’s clear that he [daniel] hadn’t actually consented to being the voyeur of loumand’s sex play given his visible discomfort/agitation. He continues anyways, trying his best to focus on the task at hand and not his bisexual longing for the men at the other end of the table bc even with everything he is reading and witnessing he is still attracted to them in all their insanity and monstrosity.

im interested in the fact that he pointedly reads out (“here’s a good one”) the misleading nature of the last one. “You said you had cigarettes.” i think it speaks to the fact that daniel came here to dubai for a supposed second interview and is slowly but surely realizing he is getting something else entirely. he continues “School teacher, guard your heart. i’m trying to think of something more fucked up than this.” he could be just talking about what claudia has written, but i think it’s also the fact that this is the section of his reading that loumand have chosen to be overtly sexual in front of him for as he reads. all this and he doesn’t even know yet of rashid being armand and his role in claudia’s death, though i’m sure he’s having suspicions of everything by now. also that louis, with being faced with the piece of claudia he doesn’t like to acknowledge, the monstrosity of her vampire nature, focuses of drinking from armand the man who killed his beloved daughter (something he said about “i run to the bottle” etc. etc). it does in fact get more fucked up danny.

and when armand implies that daniel is no better by revealing the danger it poses on louis and exposing louis’ suicidality without his permission (“he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited”) and revealing he doesn’t even want this book to happen, louis fights back by leaning into his power over daniel and exposing his thoughts about armand, and continues to, even when danny makes it clear his thoughts were not being voluntarily shared—that he did not want louis in his mind at all. he even interrupts rashmand in the middle of telling daniel he wouldn’t let him near his neck to offer up more information abt rashid (much to armands annoyance) that clearly isn’t even true after reading daniel’s mind again when daniel just explicitly told him not to. and when louis does that daniel fights back by leaning into his perceived power over rashid—louis’ servant—by demanding more of something to drink without even looking at him. and at this armand picks up his lil ipad and leaves without even picking up daniel’s glass, being the one who is actually the most powerful in the room. this is crazy. this is actually insane.

all this and armand is the one who killed claudia!!!! the only one who doesn’t get to fight back against her agency being taken from her in this scene!!! i’m going to fucking throw up. who is bored with them!? they are literally putting on thee insane sexy bdsm emo freaks show like…

“ The Son of Sheik” also alludes to the upcoming sexual assault btw. It’s a sequel to “The Sheik” where the protagonist is the son of the sheik in the first film who falls in love with a traveling dancer Yasmine. He rapes her out of retaliation for having been kidnapped and later whipped, which he believes to be her fault bc she is falsely accused of it. like in this episode and like claudia, yasmine’s rape is strongly implied in the movie with the use of pointed language and a scene cut.

this scene closes out with daniel pointing out he can’t get to accurate statistics of claudia’s murders to corroborate her accounts whether he thinks its more or less than what she recounts im unsure. louis points out that he wouldn’t be able to get an accurate account anyways bc of their disposal practices and how cities tend to downplay the dangers within them. daniel wanting all the details and louis making it clear he will have to accept that he can’t always have all the details will be a point of contention later on as we know.

[applesontheground]

thanks a lot, partner! 📞

i teased this awhile back, and as a resident mickey altieri enjoyer i once again come to you guys with an idea about him.

i feel a bit cheated his ghostface partner wasn’t a peer; it was mrs. loomis with her own separate agenda. not a bad plot point at all, just not my favorite per se.

so, i wanted to give him a real partner, and then make them get nasty. hope you guys like it. all i can say is that he’s my pick of the ghostface litter through and through, and i also want to practice writing more fleshed out smut...pun vaguely intended. let me know how i did. 🤗

NSFW | Word Count: 3,522 | Mickey Altieri x GN Ghostface!Reader (no gendered pronouns used)

contains canon typical/mentions of murder & gore, injury/mentioned eye trauma, reader’s roommate is gn too, masochism, fluff, teasing, dirty talk, oral (m recieving), manhandling

🎼: x, x

There was no way this wasn’t going to get worse come the morning.

You had caught a glimpse of yourself unmasked in the window, left unlocked long before you had gone out that evening – and what you had just barreled through while the police hadn’t even gotten to the street where your latest party crashing had just come to a perfectly timed wrap.

Everything from the second you left to the second you returned to the dingy house that you were renting with two other students had been on the dot – but one thing that hadn’t been anticipated was the victim, well, fighting back. It had been caught in the reflection of the window at first, but now you were leaning into the dollar store mirror that had been lovingly stuck on the fridge. Sure enough, the beginnings of a red spot were forming under and around your eye socket, hot blood rushing to the surface from a decently timed elbow and turning a more stark shade of purple with every passing hour.

“Fuckin-!” You swatted the closest thing to you sitting on the counter, stress from the visible mark making panic set in along with the quiet throb that had drummed up along your cheekbone. The plastic spray bottle clattered across an otherwise bare surface, toppling over the haunting mask sitting on its edge, paling in comparison to the tiled countertop.

Your ear was pointed towards the door, anticipating that your roommate was still out for the night. When word of what you had done got out – what Ghostface had done – [he’d/she’d/they’d] be home in a heartbeat, confiding all that worry about a possible murder to you. You couldn’t blame [him/her/them], feeling like you’re standing idly by, practically waiting to be picked off, is terrifying. Isn’t it?

You turned away from the window, backside pressed into the edge of the counter as you took both the physical and the mental load off your mind for a second. It was as short as the deep breath passing through, staring at the ceiling through the good eye. A harsh scratch of one of the trees against the side of the house made you freeze, then leap to act from pure reflex. You dove for the mask and the cloak it sat with, throwing it under the sink behind the trash bags without a second thought.

For good measure, you even began stuffing more mundane bottles and cans around it in a haphazard fortress. No one cleans this dump unless the landlord shows up, anyways.

“You really gotta be a little sick to do it like that,” He spoke as he stepped through the back door, halfway through the conversation before it had started. Black gloves and the jagged ribs of a hunting knife are still in his hands. The cloak was under an arm, but somehow, he was being careful not to smear any dirt or blood on the terribly plain T-shirt he had worn underneath.

It had started as a study buddy situation, then it got so screwed up as you two started seeing each other outside of school, becoming partners in more ways than just a means to survive classes. From sophomore to senior year, you were ending the collegiate cord with the beginning of a whole new type of work. Carnage, dismemberment, and the drama of being picture perfect copycat killers. It was like touching a stove when you knew very well it would hurt you, and there was something so utterly frayed within both you and your partner that loved to feel it despite this knowledge.

Mickey Altieri looked at you just as eagerly as he had been admiring the path which he came from, but you had turned away before he could catch an eyeful of your face. Gathering the cleaner you had just slapped into oblivion, you spat, “So fucking nuts, I need to take a breather before you congratulate me, Mick-“

“Well, first of all, let’s run back the blueprint. I’m the one that’s primed to fly off the handle in this equation, [Y/N], so why are you going nuts?” He cornered you fast, making your swimming vision slow to a wade, peripherals noting his arms had come out to brace the counter. He had boxed you in, hip to hip with you in a brief shuffle. Nudging you to face him and seeing what had gotten you so worked up, his voice returned to something more casual – maddeningly casual considering the scene before him – and gasped, “Oh my god, look at baby’s shiner.”

“I fucked up, Mickey.” You hissed, hands anxiously gripping and releasing the counter behind you, “He got a fucking whack on me, I didn’t-“

“Excuse me, I thought we were going to take a breath. Can you manage that before anything else?” He pulled his gloves off, tucking them and the knife under his arm along with the cloak. His bare, clammy hands went instinctively for your neck, then smoothed along your collarbone when he saw it had snapped you to reality, settling on your shoulders as he repeated himself, “Relax. He’s already on the fast track to old news, [Y/N]. Who’s gonna know he got a hit in before being fucking slaughtered?”

You closed your eyes – closed one eye to mirror the swelling counterpart. Deep inhale through the nostrils, you whimpered with a pang of uncertainty, “No one.”

“There [he/she is / they are]. Nobody knows but you, and nobody knows but me. Just like the last two we strung out, right?” You looked hard into his eyes again, a realization you were one of the few people that knew precisely what urges and thoughts lay behind them settling in place of the spiraling. Sure, other people could see that Mickey was a bit squirrely underneath the façade he liked to play, a quick moving dude with the camera that was a little too smirky to not tip others off that he was hiding something in his hand.

Although, being the Woodsboro copycat was like an ace up the sleeve, and you? The royal suit that he was keeping in his back pocket. His Stu Macher, but he hated it when you made that comparison.

Mickey then nodded to the floor, eyes cast at your muddy shoes, “Very nice job, by the way. Perfectly severed the lungs from his chest. Didn’t have to do that, but we’ve got a lot of work to outshine. Huh, stud?” You felt a lump in your throat fighting to be swallowed as you merely choked, “Learned from the best.”

The chuckle from him was low and thoroughly pleased at that thought; chin tipped down to give you another good look over now that he had moved past the black eye, gauging what was happening in your head as his eyes trailed back to your face. When he couldn’t quite crack it, though, he caved through the motion of leaning in.

You took the kiss without a second thought all the same, the only sign you were torn being a crumpled brow. He then held your face in his hands, the light scent of hand soap and copper filling your nose as you tried to get some fresh air from the window that was still cracked.

“If it means anything, baby cakes, I still think you’re gorgeous.” He crooned in an almost overtly sweet tone, but you were overwhelmed by the corny nature and responded by blowing a raspberry in his face.

First order of business, prepare the alibi.

Mickey hadn’t been seen at the parties that had been going on tonight (Well, he was seen, but not as Mickey), and neither had you. Maybe that person you had gutted caught a glimpse of a wrist from under the cloak in all the scuffle. Ashes to ashes, severed organs to severed organs. You had put even more cleaning supplies around your stash under the sink for good measure. Your mind was wading the water still, almost falling to something closer to TV static as your roommate spoke on the other end of the phone, ready to hear the hysterics.

“No, no. You’re still out by the campus? What rager’s going on…when it’s…” It was dawning on you as they kept giggling, and the commotion of some party game continued in the background.  Your jaw released, and you began staring at another warped reflection of yourself in the house, this time it had been through a shitty doorknob leading to the garage. All of it seemed to fall to a lull as you realized the news hadn’t even broken out yet, and you had enough wiggle room to keep the mood light.

You looked over at Mickey, who was washing up in the sink, listening along to your phone call. You piped up in reply, “No, it’s quiet out here tonight. Usually, the frat up the street puts on those loud ass parties, but I guess they’re too hungover from the last one.” You laughed, eyeing the chrome flash of the hunting knife coming out of the suds and steam. It was carefully dried with a paper towel and both articles slid into the depths of a pocket kept on the cloak he would wear. Two costumes make two blood trails. Two culprits, and twice the confusion trying to figure out where the masked murderer is. An old trick from the book of Woodsboro, sure – but damn, was it effective.

You took a deep breath and mentioned, “Oh yeah. Mickey’s been with me at the house for the last couple of hours. That’s cool that he’s staying over, right?” Looking at you from over his shoulder now, that fluffed up smile gracing his lips as he mockingly waited for the answer from the other line, you then laughed. “Cool, I assumed it was fine since you weren’t gonna be home until late, so-“

You were cut off, and then you gasped, “Shut up, why the hell do you think he’s here when you aren’t?” He now looked over his shoulder with sharp curiosity, running cold water over the warm pink suds to wash the remnants of what the two of you had done down the drain, out of sight and hard to catch with such a solid head start. You then huffed, “Alright, bye. I’ll remember to wear a condom.”

Hanging up the phone and trailing its cord back to where it sat on a side table in the living room, he quickly turned from the sink to follow close behind. “So, just to be clear, absolutely no truth to that little story?” You rose your eyebrows at the voice coming from over your shoulder, and you answered, “None. Gotta cover our tracks, cut all the ties that might drag us back down the block, but-“

You stopped yourself, feeling his hand start to slide over your hip in a lazy slither, tracing the seam of your jeans. You then ran the lie back in your head, barely able to catch up as he mocked you, “Ooh, why the hell do you think my lovely boyfriend's here when the nosy little roomies aren’t, huh?” Turning to look at him with a raised brow, he then hummed, “You know I’d still screw you with the black eye, right?” You couldn’t help the laugh that took from you despite your attitude growing horns, a hand coming up and clamping around his jaw.

Giving him a playful shake, you hummed, “Glad to hear it, but who says we’re screwing? I didn’t say anything like that on the phone.” He took your hand still around his face, making your grip go soft as he turned into your palm, pressing his lips to the inner pads of your fingers. “Aw, any way I can change your mind?” He asked, “Sure got you under my thumb with the whole…Woodsboro thing. Put me back in the game, coach. Bet I can do it again – better yet, I’ll do you one better.”

Leaning away, you groaned, “Oh, good god. For a killer, you sure like to lay it on thick.” Squinting at him with your good eye, he once again was in sync with your movement, leaning along with you and now peppering the softest but somehow still obnoxious kisses close to the bruise on your face. “Stop squirming already,” He teased, and when you couldn’t lean too much further, he cupped his hand around the back of your neck and went in for a much deeper kiss against your cheek, pulling you back towards him in the process. You naturally found his lips with your own, the dancing around them being too much to act so callous towards.

“Ooh, I bet it hurts.” He mocked you, but your jaw still fell open when he pressed his lips right underneath the bruise again, enjoying the annoyed groan it stirred and knowing it was confused, wanting to be hurt but unable to keep from melting back into a familiar, crawling ecstasy as he started to trail down to your neck, and you started to direct him towards the couch in the living room.

Nearly falling onto the furniture, you turned back towards him with the same blind urgency, hands quivering as they began running over his chest, and the fabric was as soft as it had looked. He gave one final glance towards the door, the heel of his shoe nudging his costume further under the couch, somewhere he would hide it when he stayed over after a rendezvous with your knives. Just like the deeds themselves, it was an intricate and intimate ritual at this point, something you found so much love in despite being so loathsome.

“Whoa, whoa-“ You tried to slow him, but he merely teased you back in a husky puff against your neck, “Whoa, whoa. Please, you’re all over this.” Grinning, you stuck your elbow up and into his chest, making him gasp against your throat but immediately take hold of your wrist. You immediately careened back first into the couch, and shoving the offending hand beside your ear, he shook his head at you, eyes growing cold but on the brink of something rabid. “Fuck, you’re quite the killer yourself tonight. Ghostface, the mood killer.” He gritted, and you only laughed as you finally fell limp under his hold.

Some fires had been stirred up, especially as he now guided your other arm over your head and secured both wrists together. It made it easy for him to free up, holding both in place as his other hand now went down your stomach and slipped under your shirt. It immediately got you groaning a little, his fingertips finding every pressure point and sweet spot and a familiar, worn warmth with his hands still wet from the cleanup job.

Between hand soap and remnants of the dirt – better yet, the blood – was making you press your hips against his, lining up while both of you still had clothes on. It did him in, and he had to let your hands go in certainty they’d fly to the hem of your shirt. He trusted you enough to manage that.

As you rolled the fabric over your head, throwing it behind you to drape over the phone you had just gotten off of, he was feeling all over your torso and chest like he hadn’t seen it before. Like it had been something he was holding out for after such a gruesome night. You whimpered into his ear, knowing the pathetic noises of someone just as capable as he was made him rabid. Sure enough, his movements suddenly grew rougher, nails being involved in his fondling.

“Calm down,” You demanded with a lack of backbone in your words, and he only responded by planting his mouth on your neck, nipping a few times before starting to add another mark to your itinerary. It shut you up; replacing your demands with shivering along your shoulders and breathy whines. He was giving it back, and when you couldn’t take it anymore as he released your neck, the splotch left on your skin glistening with saliva and as ribbed as the knife from teeth marks, you pushed him back and started pulling at his shirt, pushing it up.

“You gotta be a little sick to do it like this,” You murmured, both of you upright on the couch. You wasted no time slipping down his body, being sure to start pressing your own kisses against his skin as you got to his hips. He groaned, half because of the feelings that were spilling like the precum was starting to soak into the fabric of your shirt and half from hearing his own goddamn words slapping him in the face. You weren’t one to waste time unlike him, not necessarily here to ravish and enjoy the leadup to it – a murder, an orgasm, whatever it was – but rather get to what needed to happen, to live in the main event.

It was something you approached with nothing but anticipating confidence, starting from the shaft and licking up along the bottom of his cock. He almost whimpered, for once his hands not wandering too far from where they were settled with one on the back of the couch to keep upright and one on the back of your head. He wasn’t even guiding, rather serving as a marker to keep your mouth where he wanted it.

Mickey let you do the work, hands pressed into his thighs as you focused on doing it well. If it got messy, you’d deal with it afterwards. Spit was running down your jaw, and trickled down your neck as you only focused on the heat against your tongue, the prodding of your throat that was making him need to hold the back of the couch to stay steady.

“[Y/N], you keep it up and I’m gonna be done before we've even started.” He warned, half serious and half holding out to see how you’d respond. You merely groaned against him, a nonchalant sound as you kept going, tilting your head so he could see what you were doing a little better. It was already making you unbelievably hot underneath your clothes, and you were already so deep in the act.

You had to finish it, then figure out where to go after the fact. Just like you had with the guy who punched you while you tore him apart.

The fire suddenly roared alive and broke apart, spreading in all directions as soon as it had sparked. Once again, his hands became rigid as he stopped moving everywhere except in how he snapped his hips against your mouth, fluid in the motion. He almost wondered if he had even cum, because you were already taking care of it. Just like the shiner, you were handling things as they practically hit you in the face. In this case, the back of your twitching throat.

You pulled off of him, the last of it hitting you along the tip of your nose and bottom lip. You rolled your head up, and he chuckled at the sight. “Oh my god, can you knock it off?” He asked, catching his breath as you asked, “What do you mean?”

“Being a stand-up partner, you know what I mean. It’s like you fell from the sky just for me to deal with,” He lamented, but he was still grinning at you. Straightening your back, you glanced at the clock. Figuring you still had time, you didn’t rush to find your shirt quite yet, shifting a little closer to him so you could see the beginnings of him starting to sweat from the exertion. Even his hair was starting to look even more wild, but he cut your train of thought with finding his own shirt.

“How’s this for an alibi-” He hummed, using it to wipe the remnants of spit from your mouth, “I elbowed you in the face because your mouth was go god damn good, you’re so accident prone already.” He bared his teeth in an amused smile as you gasped, a silent motion as you then used your hand to help in cleaning yourself up. He then took your chin between two fingers, wagging your head and making your unfocused stare come back to Earth as he added, “Let’s even play it up, act all embarrassed about it. They’ll eat it up.”

“…For the partner who flies off the handle, you’re still good at thinking fast.” You croaked, both of you smiling at each other. He threw the shirt over the cloak peeking from underneath the couch. “Gotta be when you’re living up to some pretty sick shit.” He murmured, and as you pulled yourself to stand with your hands on his thighs, he was sure to take your shirt and hold you in a half crouch to get another kiss.

Sick, sick fuck, you thought as he hummed into your mouth, realizing he was tasting himself along with you. Better yet, he was relishing it.

I’m in love with a sick fuck.