#and then he'd say “um. dog.”

[transmasc-rose]

Furrifies your Rory Williams

[gyuzgrl]

off the market ||csc||

summary- You have a crush on your favourite customer. He's big and kind and pretty and god the things you wanted to do to him were unholy. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

"welcome!"

That's all you said. All you could say. All it took for Seungcheol to fall hopelessly in love.

He was a regular at your pet daycare center. Him and his puppy Kkuma were there virtually every day, either to pick up a treat or to drop her off in your care for the day.

It was safe to say they were you favourite customers. Sure the dog was cute, but lord, Seungcheol had you acting like a schoolgirl whenever he came around. With his deep voice, his charming smile and god those arms- how could you resist?

You were almost certain however, that he wasn't interested. Sure, you'd caught him staring at you a couple times, sure it was a little odd how he'd tip you a small fortune every now and then, sure his hand lingered on yours for longer than necessary when paying, but there was no way, you were sure. No way a man like him was still on the market.

So you loved him from afar.

Well, as far as he'd let you go, at least.

"Kkuma!" you beamed, reaching out to take the eager fluff ball from Seuncheol's arms.

She snuggled into you, tongue lolling out as you scratched behind her ears.

"spoilt little princess, this one"

You look up to find Seungcheol's gaze fixed onto you.

"y-yeah, she's a little diva, aren't you baby?" you coo, "dropping her off again, Mr Choi?"

He hums, reaching closer to ruffle her fur, "work's gotten a bit much these days- timings are crazy y'know"

Your breath hitches at the sudden proximity. His hand was aimed at the dog, sure, but it was so close- ghosting over the plush skin of your upper chest.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you steady yourself.

"I can uh, I can imagine, sir. I'll keep her safe, don't you worry"

You say it out of duty, but something about that title has Seungcheol fighting demons in his head. Sir. Sir, you call him, like it's the simplest, sweetest thing in the world. Little do you know, behind the crescents of those pretty doe eyes, his thoughts are nothing but pure filth.

Hesitantly, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, shouldn't be too long... thanks for keeping her"

"it's my job" you laugh, "you're paying me aren't you, sir?"

He coughs, eyes darting all over. Sir. There you go again.

"I'll um- I'll get going. Bye, y/n"

He turns around too quickly to see the crimson hue diffusing across your cheeks. God you loved the way he said your name. It rolled off his tongue so easily.

"bye-bye!" you call after him.

All your interractions had been similar to this. He'd stop by, make polite conversation and leave. But still, still your heart thudded in your chest at the thought of him. He was just so perfect.

A couple of hours later, you hear the door open. It's late at night, so your first instinct is to grab something sharp before you make your way to the cash register out front.

Meekly, you tiptoe outside, clutching a pair of kuromi scissors in your fist.

"y/n?" a familiar voice calls.

It's just Seungcheol. Good.

You breathe a sigh of relief, walking out right away as you greet him with that million dollar smile of yours.

"welcome!"

"hope Kkuma wasn't too much of a mena-" he pauses, glancing down at your hand, "what's up with the scissors?"

"oh- uh, nothing nothing, just as a safety measure- I didn't know it was you so..."

He tenses, unsure of how to feel. On one hand, you insinuated that you felt safe around him, while on the other, you think you're unsafe in the store.

"can I walk you home?"

You're stunned. Your legs feel like jelly and you can barely process his words.

"can you what"

"walk you home. If you feel uncomfortable walking alone this late, that is. I live a minute away, and it really wouldn't be a hassle to step out for a seco-"

"I couldn't ask that of you sir," you interrupt, "it's not that big of a deal either way"

"you aren't asking. I'm offering. and it is a big deal, y/n. I want you to be safe, to feel safe."

Oh that one went straight to your cunt.

"I-" you hesitate.

"look, I'm here almost every day anyways- if that makes you feel any better. if you're gonna refuse, don't do it 'cause you think I'd be inconvenienced. I won't." he says, now gently prying the scissors out of your grasp, "but if you honestly just don't want me to walk you home, I'll back off"

"no it's not that-" you add, urgently.

"how 'bout we try it out today, and you tell me if you wanna continue, that okay?"

You nod, lowering your head in a lame attempt to hide the furious red glow of your cheeks. Seungcheol seems to have noticed already, though. He places the scissors onto the register beside you, and turns to look into your eyes.

When he finds you staring up at him already, he's pleasantly surprised. There's a long silence- a pause in time- and the air around you stills. It's just you and him, gazing into each other's eyes, gauging what the other feels.

He must not know how intimidating his stare is, considering how he refuses to look away. That is until, of course, he spies movement in his vision.

Your hands are shaking. You didn't know they were, until Seungcheol's gaze leaves your own, dropping to your trembling hands.

He steps closer.

"your hands are all jittery today" his voice is low and gentle, "why're you so nervous?"

The space between you lessens as he moves closer, his hand reaching over to hold your trembling one, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You suck in a sharp breath, letting it go in a staccato shudder.

"do I make you nervous?"

Your eyes, wide and round, dart across the room, opting to look anywhere but at him.

"do I?" he pushes, squeezing your hand.

"I-" you start, "I just um- it's a bi-"

Your words are cut off by a shrill bark.

Fuck. Kkuma. You forgot about Kkuma.

"Kku-Kkuma," you stutter, ripping your hand out of his grasp, "I gotta get her out"

He groans, his arm chasing after you as you whip your head around and scurry into the play room. He was so close- he almost got through to you.

His frustrations subside instantly, however, when you return, carrying a sleepy Kkuma in your arms. How the little puppy nuzzled into you, so safe and comfortable, made Seungcheol's heart ache. Kkuma's instincts were never wrong.

"c'mere princess," he coos, and you look up at him with wide eyes. Did he just-

His eyes are on you, knowingly. "missed me, didn't you Kkuma?"

Oh. Right. The dog.

Seungcheol's gaze remains fixed on you, a teasing smirk playing at his lips as you draw closer.

"you're all red" he grins, "here lemme take her" Before you manage to protest, his hands graze the skin of your forearm as he scoops Kkuma out of your embrace and into his.

It was brief, the contact, but you felt something akin to electricity when his fingertips touched your skin. The glow on your cheeks only brightened in response and he bit back a laugh.

"I'll- I should lock up"

"mm you go do that,"

Even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes burning into you, an attentive stare watching all your actions- how you locked up the register, switched off the lights, reached up to pull your shutters closed.

It was endearing to him. You worked so hard everyday, did so much all alone. All he wanted was to help, really.

So he does.

As you nod towards the door, signalling that you're ready to head out, Seungcheol follows.

You pull the main entrance closed, reaching up on tiptoes to yank the outer shutters down, struggling to hook your fingers into the handle. He notices. Of course he does.

Silently, he brushes up against you, his chest dangerously close to your back. His arm extends above your own and he pulls the handle down with ease.

Your brain short circuits.

"what are y-" you gasp, turning around to face him. The air he breathes out fans across your face and his eyes are set on you. This was dangerous. The proximity between your bodies, the warmth of his breath, the way his eyes darted down to your lips- it was too much.

"y/n,"

"yes?"

There's a pause. Seungcheol's brows scrunch up as if he's trying to find the right words to say.

"you don't have to think so hard, Mr Choi," you offer, staring up him with wide eyes.

"Seungcheol." he states, "call me Seungcheol"

You're so taken aback you miss the desperate "please" he adds in at the end of his sentence.

"Seungcheol,"

"sounds so pretty when you say it"

There's a pull between your bodies. It's gradual and painfully slow, but you both feel it. He leans in, eyes darting to your lips, and your eyes flutter closed.

Hot breaths fan your face as you wait for him to kiss you, each exhale burning against your skin.

"is this okay?" he murmurs.

You try to say yes, to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale. Lips parted, lashes fluttering, you looked so pretty. He couldn't resist the way you drew him in.

Slowly inching closer, Seungcheol presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It's tentative, hesitant, almost, like he doesn't want to scare you away. His plump lips cradle yours so gently, it's like he's barely even there.

You draw back, breathing hard. "we shouldn'-" you start, turning your head away, before he cups your jaw and pulls you in once again.

This time he works urgently against you, sucking at your lower lip so fervently, it leaves you breathless. Any semblance of doubt leaves your mind, and you pull him closer, fisting his shirt.

It takes everything in you to hold yourself together when his tongue licks at the seam of your mouth, demanding entrance. While he explores the hollow of your mouth, your hands roam the expanse of his broad shoulders, feeling each hard-earned muscle tense under your touch.

Your lungs burn for air, pleading for sustenance, even for a second, but his grip on you stays firm, holding you in place. Feeling woozy from the lack of oxygen, you have to push him away, almost, fisting his hair with one hand and tugging him back.

Finally, you breathe.

"woah, there-" he grins, when your knees buckle, causing you to faceplant into his chest.

You groan, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"c'mon, let's get you home, hm? we should probably sit down and uh, talk." he mutters, motioning between you and him, "about this, I mean"

"yeah let's- let's go home"

The walk is surprisingly pleasant. Any expected awkwardness, any uncomfortable tension, seems to have vanished.

You chat as you walk side by side, Seungcheol holding Kkuma's leash while you hold onto his free arm. It's painfully domestic, honestly. Your heart thuds violently in your chest with every step you take with him.

"...and then she told Hansol to call her his cutie sexy baby- you should've seen the look on all our faces, I wanted to quit my job then and there-" he shivers as he narrates an incident to you, and you giggle away like a schoolgirl. The way Seungcheol made you smile so effortlessly was commendable. No matter when he showed up, what he said, where he was going, he always made you smile.

"poor him," you offer, sympathetically, grinning from ear to ear as you neared your apartment. "this is me,"

"if you're tired from today, we can talk sometime else, oka-"

You interrupt him with a tiny peck on his lips, earning a look of disbelief in response.

"god help me"

Which is how you've found yourself here- stumbling out of the elevator with his lips pressed on yours, hands grabbing feverishly at the flesh of your hips.

"wai- Seungcheol hold on-" you giggle, fumbling to thumb in your house code.

He backs away, pouting and looks down at Kkuma apologetically.

"come in"

There's a hint of tension in the air now, with everything becoming far more tangible than before. This is happening. This is real.

You beckon him over to the couch, letting Kkuma settle on a rug somewhere in the kitchen, slowly drifting to sleep.

He sits beside you, leaving respectful distance.

"I uh, I don't want this to seem like I'm just fucking around- I don't usually do this,"

"do what?"

"this" he motions between your bodies. "I've been wanting this, wanting you, for so long you have no idea"

"oh-" You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs. Seungcheol felt the same way you did? He's wanted you for all this time, just like you've wanted him?

"I'd like to take you out on a date. Properly. I really like you, y/n-"

It's a miracle you don't melt into a puddle of mush then and there.

Choi Seungcheol. Hot customer. Has feelings for you.

"and it's okay if you don't feel the same way- really- I just uh, didn't wanna kiss you and leave things unspecified"

"I-" you start, staring up at him as you searched for the right words to say, "I like you too"

His face softens, a soft smile taking over his lips. You feel an all too-familiar heat growing between your legs.

"I'm glad"

The distance between your bodies is bridged by his hand- a galiant soldier crossing borders into foreign territory. It slides over yours, interlacing your fingers in a firm knot.

A sharp breath puffs out your lips, and all you can do is say his name. You aren't sure why, you aren't sure what you're asking for, but you call him- your voice airy and desperate.

"Seungcheol,"

"hm?"

Words escape you. There's nothing you can find in yourself to say. You stare into his eyes, watching the way the brown of his irises hold your picture within them.

"oh, sweetheart..."

And his lips are on yours.

Seungcheol guides your hand to his shoulder, sliding his own to your waist as he draws you closer. The way your lips mold against each other is nothing short of perfect, like you were made for eachother.

He nips at your lower lip, dragging it as he pulls back ever so slightly, and you can't help but moan. He grins. Your face grows beet red and you pull away, panting, embarrassed.

"you're adorable, y'know that?"

"shut up"

"you've got a lotta attitude for someone who can't handle more than a little teasing"

"I- I can handle more" you argue, brows furrowing as you shuffle closer to him.

"oh?"

Your eyes widen.

"n-no I didn't mean it like tha-"

"like what?" he smirks. "how'd you mean it then?"

You lower your gaze, opting to stare instead at the fabric of his trousers. Seungcheol hooks a digit under your chin and tilts your head right back up, forcing you to look at him, cheeks burning.

"who're you hiding from, hm?"

"m'sorry," you breathe, looking at him through your lashes.

"I wanna make you feel good," he mumbles as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. "may I?"

It's a simple thing- asking for permission- but it has your heart fluttering. He asks you 'may I?' like he's at your mercy. Like you have him bewitched. He'd do anything and everything you ask of him, now more than ever.

You nod, leaning in to kiss him yet again, before he lifts you off the couch and into the bedroom. His strong arms hold you steady, and all your worries fade away. All the questions in your head dissipate, until all that's left is him.

Only him.

"this okay?" he murmurs, placing you on the bed.

"more than okay"

"I'm gonna take this off now, hm?" Deft hands slide up your torso, lifing your shirt off to reveal the lacy bra underneath. He has to pause for a moment to compose himself at the sight.

"so pretty,"

"Seungcheool" you whine, tugging his hands to your breasts, "touch me"

Any resolve he'd built up, to control himself for you, comes crumbling down.

Like a man starved, Seungcheol devours you, placing hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he trails his lips to the cup of your bra.

He kisses the swell of your breasts, while his hand slides under your back, unclipping the garment with ungodly precision. You gasp when your nipples brush against the loosened fabric, sensitive and hard.

"fuck," he drawls when he tosses your bra aside to reveal your bare chest. Seungcheol kisses the tender skin, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while his hand caresses the other, pinching at the sensitive bud.

His actions elicit a whine on your part, back arching into him with every swivel of his tongue, every pinch of his fingers. There's a dark grin painted across his handsome face when he pulls away, looking down at you.

"look so pretty under me, sweetheart"

You turn away, bashfully, feeling small under the weight of his stare. It's hot, how Seungcheol's self-assurance radiates off of him. He's confident but not pushy, not arrogant like the other boys you've been with. The prolonged eye contact feels more intimate than anything you've ever experienced- just you and him, gazing at each other like the world outside is a problem for another day. Right now, nothing exists but the two of you.

A hand travels down the valley of your breasts to the hem of your pants, teasing the skin right under the waistband. He wants to savor this, to savor you. But god you're so desperate he can't bear the thought of dragging this out any longer.

"gonna make you feel good, yeah sweetheart? would you like that?"

"please" you whimper, rubbing your thighs together.

Anticipation swells in your belly as Seungcheol crawls down to face your cunt, keeping his eyes fixed on yours with each sultry motion. He grasps the button of your pants with his teeth, tugging it open before his hands slide them down your legs, fingers ghosting over the smooth flesh of your thighs.

"pretty, pretty girl"

Shamelessly, he spreads you open, rubbing along your slit through your soaked panties.

"fuck baby- you're dripping" he groans, pressing the fabric into your folds. Your body jerks at the touch, and you let out a pathetic whimper.

"all of this 'cause of me? such a good girl" he coos.

"all 'cause of you Cheol- fuck- only you"

That was it. Seungcheol considered himself a patient man, usually, but tonight? God, he wanted to rip those flimsy panties off of you and have you cum on his tongue again and again until you were crying.

In one swift motion, he leaves you bare, shoving your panties in his back pocket like some kind of trophy. His tongue finds your hole, dipping in just a little to collect your arousal before dragging it up to your clit.

"oh-"

You feel him grin against you, lapping at your clit slightly faster now. Your hands fly down to hold him in place, back arching as loud moans flood the room. You can't recall the last time a man has made you feel this good. Heck, you can't recall if they ever have.

"please- fuck don't stop don't stop," you whine, hips rolling up to match the rhythm of his tongue.

He groans when he realizes how you're using him for your pleasure, sending tingles across your skin.

"that's it, sweetheart- fuck that's my good girl" he mumbles against your cunt.

You feel your high approaching with the expert flick of Seungcheol's tongue, and you pull him closer in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm. He senses you're close with the way your thighs begin to tense and quiver under his hold, so he slyly slips a finger into you, without warning, sending you straight over the edge in seconds.

Your voice breaks as you moan, head tipping back into the pillows as he pumps his finger in and out of your heat, working you through your orgasm.

"there we go, pretty- just like that, shit"

Seungcheol licks you clean, sending sparks shooting up your spine, before drawing back up to your lips to pull you into a messy, sticky kiss.

You taste yourself on his tongue, moaning as he licks into your mouth like he'd die if he didn't. The friction against your bare skin draws you back to reality, and you realize he's still clothed

"w-wait-" you pant, planting your hands on his chest.

He pulls away, eyes fluttering back open in confusion.

"what's wrong? d'you wanna sto-"

"no!" you interrupt, eyes widening. "not at all- I just..." you trail off, tugging at his shirt.

He chuckles.

"you just?"

"y'know" you reply, coy as ever, grasping his shirt once again.

"words, sweetheart, gotta tell me what you want" His voice is teasing, playful.

"your- your shirt..." you pout.

"mhm what about it?"

You glare up at him, brows setting into a deep frown. "don't be mean c'mon,"

"say it and I'll stop, promise"

"t-take your shirt off," you mutter, blushing wildly, "wanna see you"

He cocks a brow at you and you hastily add in a desperate "please", leaving him satisfied. Without wasting any more time, he settles back on his knees for a moment, yanking his shirt off to reveal his sculpted form.

Your mouth hangs open.

Sure, you figured he was fit- those arms were a dead giveaway- but this took the cake. Hard, chiseled muscles greeted you, sculpted by the gods themselves, and you felt your mouth water.

"oh wow" you breathe, reaching up to touch him and feel those muscles for yourself.

He grins, hovering back over you.

"perv"

"have I told you how much I like you?"

There's a pause, before you break out into a fit of giggles, grinning at each other like two lovesick teenagers.

Seungcheol shimmies his pants off too, kicking them away, leaving only his boxers on.

"are you gonna-"

"eat you out again? yes. yes I am."

You smack his chest, rolling your eyes.

"you can do that tomorrow- I wanna... wanna feel you," you whisper, "wanna feel you in me"

He mutters a quick "fuck" under his breath, hastily shoving his boxers down as he balances his weight on one arm.

"are you sure, sweetheart?"

"mhm"

"anytime you wanna stop jus-"

"just tell you, yes sir" you quip, rolling your eyes yet again, only this time, you take notice of the way his gaze darkens at your words.

Oh this is going to be fun.

"sir," you whine, rolling you hips up into his, "please- please fuck me I've been good, haven't I?"

You're unsure of where this sudden boost of confidence has come from, but Seungcheol's blown pupils and parted lips spur you on.

"I'll be so good for you, sir- promise," you pout.

"do you even- fuck do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"mhm"

"brat-" he snarls, dragging his cock against your folds. You moan, losing whatever semblance of power you managed to build.

"that's better,"

You're about to bite back, say something mean, but he interrupts, pushing his dick inside you, slow but firm.

"you're- fuck you're so big" you whimper, eyes welding themselves shut at the stretch of your walls. "it won't f-fit"

"I'll make it fit, I promise baby I won't hurt you, hm?"

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes when he pushes further. He was huge. Your toys had nothing on him. Nothing.

"shh sweetheart you're doing so well for me," he coos, pressing in until he bottoms out.

Your eyes brim over and you sniffle, trying to accomodate his size. It takes a minute, with him kissing your tears away and mumbling into your hair, but you finally give him the green light.

Automatically, his hips draw back and snap into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. His size was overwhelming, almost. He hit your g-spot effortlessly with each inward motion, and your brain fuzzed over with pleasure.

All you could think, all you could say, was him.

seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol- you chanted his name like a prayer, any notions of god, of a higher being, leaving your mind with him taking their place.

He held your life in the palm of his hand, commanding metaphorical deaths with his body. You'd be happy to die in his arms every night, and rise like phoenixes with the sun- souls unified after the previous night's escapades.

The steady but firm edge to his thrusts have you sobbing, crying on his dick, begging for something even you aren't sure of. Your cries echo through the room, followed by the sound of skin on skin. Your neighbours won't like this one bit, you'll definitely be in trouble tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

He just feels so good.

"s-seungcheol I- please m'so close please please ple-" you sob, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

He leans into your lips, capturing them between his own. It isn't a kiss. Your mouths hang open, moaning and sighing into each other with breaths so hot you feel like you're on fire. Like you're alive.

Distracted by the heat generated by your enmeshed breaths, you fail to notice how his hand creeps down to your clit. You cry out when his fingers make contact with the sensitive flesh, rubbing tight circles into you as his thrusts increase in speed.

"m'gonna- sir m'gonna cu-" you moan, cutting yourself off when you feel your body slip into pleasure. Your throat has gone bone-dry, like the last time you touched water was when you were in the womb.

"shit-" he curses, using you to finish himself off, before quickly following suit and finishing on your thighs.

"you're so beautiful- you're so goddamn beautiful" he rambles, collapsing on top of you.

Your throat hurts, and all you can do is wheeze as you try to soothe your burning lungs.

He notices, and grins to himself, ripping his body off of yours- "wait here, I'll be back".

He's gone for a minute, before returning with a towel and some water. "here" he says, holding the glass to your lips as you shuffle to sit up, "drink."

While you do that, he crawls back between your legs and gently wipes away the mess he made on your thighs.

It's basic decency, you know it is, but you can't help the way your heart flutters at how caring Seungcheol is.

"thank you" you murmur, cringing at the sting in your throat.

He looks confused for a moment.

"f-for cleaning me up"

God you were so cute. He couldn't bear it any longer.

"I always will, you don't need to say anything, sweetheart"

You blush, for the nth time that night, grinning from ear to ear as you're hit with realisation.

Choi Seungcheol is officially off the market.

[loulovingho]

Prompt: I've been thinking about a mixture of posts on here and I'd really love Tommy going to talk to Eddie because, maybe Eddie isn't being a great friend? I've read some people think Eddie would fall in line with Gerrard (due to being in the army etc.) and I'd love to see a Tommy/Eddie argument!

When Eddie got a knock on his door at 9pm on a Tuesday, he wasn't sure who to expect. He hadn't gotten a call or text from anyone, and he hadn't ordered any food. He figured he'd be arguing with Jehovah's Witnesses, asking them why the hell they were knocking on his door so late? Usually he'd avoid them altogether, but a little piece of him felt like arguing, so he swung the door open with a dramatic sigh.

He was surprised to see Tommy on the other side of the door, hand raised in a fist, ready to knock again.

“Oh. Hey, Tommy. I wasn't expecting you, was I?”

“Um, no. Can I come in for a sec?”

“Sure.” Eddie moved out of the way so Tommy could come inside, closing the door behind him. “Want a beer or something?”

“No, I really can't stay long. I'm heading to Evan's after this.”

Right. Buck. He should've known he'd be getting a visit from Tommy. Buck hadn't exactly left work, or Eddie, on good terms two days ago. Things had been tense for a few weeks now, actually. Everything had slowly been bubbling up until Buck finally burst under the pressure and was sent home early for insubordination. He'd actually been told not to return until he could learn proper chain of command, and if he couldn't learn within a week, he should start searching for a new career path.

“Is Buck the one who sent you?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tommy shook his head. “No. No one sent me.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So you're not here to kick my ass?”

“Should I be?”

“I don't know,” Eddie answered honestly. “I don't know what you've been told.”

It was kind of a ridiculous sight right now, if you asked Eddie. Two grown men, friends for months now, standing awkwardly in his living room. Neither making any effort to sit or get more comfortable.

“Evan's been having a rough time with Gerrard,” Tommy started. “Sounds like he's Gerrard's main target.”

Eddie shrugged. “Gerrard likes to push buttons. Buck's buttons are easy to push.”

“Last week he asked Evan if he'd like a bra to go with the apron he wore while cooking.” Tommy tensed even as he spoke the words. “That doesn't just sound like pressing buttons to me.”

“He's a wannabe drill sergeant pissed about the fact he never made it through basic training. You do what he says, keep quiet, use your manners, and make him feel like he's the most important person in the room. That's how you get through a shift.” Eddie moved to sit on the couch, but Tommy remained standing. “You know how this works the same as I do,” he added.

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy agreed, although his voice was a bit more commanding now. “Probably better than you do, actually. Doesn't make it okay.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you here, Tommy? I'm tired.”

“To try and stop you from becoming me, you idiot. I've been where you are. I've sat beside Gerrard and watched him treat person after person like nothing but garbage. I kept quiet, I made him feel important, I followed behind him like I was his damn puppy dog. I called him sir, I did whatever he asked, I laughed along with his jokes. You know what that made me?”

Eddie was starting to get annoyed. “What?”

“Him. I was no better than him.”

Eddie's eyes darkened. He stood back up, taking a step toward Tommy. “Are you seriously comparing me to that piece of crap?”

“If the mustache fits.”

“You need to get out of my house now,” Eddie warned. He could feel his body filling with the same boiling rage that got him thrown in jail a few years ago. He didn't need that to happen again.

“You repeat to me what Gerrard told Evan two days ago and I'll go,” Tommy offered. “Tell me what Gerrard said that finally made him explode and I'll leave.”

“Or I can call the cops on you for trespassing,” Eddie replied, moving to the door and opening it.

Tommy made no effort to leave. “Go for it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Eddie's chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. When Eddie realized Tommy was never going to back down, his shoulders slumped. “Come on, Man, just leave.”

Tommy doubled down. “Tell me what he said,” he demanded, speaking each work slowly and carefully.

“H- He... God, Tommy.” He looked away from him, unable to maintain eye contact as he recalled the event. “Buck fell while we were at a scene, bruised his tailbone. When we were sitting down to eat, Buck moved slow. He winced when he finally got seated... Gerrard saw and said th- that maybe if he... if he spent less time taking and more time giving he wouldn't have so much trouble.”

“But,” Tommy beckoned for him to continue.

Eddie took a deep breath. “But he should have expected Buck to be the woman.”

Tommy nodded. “There it is.”

“Listen, Tommy, I-”

“He could've really used someone sticking up for him. One person to step in and tell Gerrard he'd crossed a line. I get that Hen can't do anything right now. She can't risk not getting Mara back. And I know Howie can't do anything to lose Mara. But you could have said something, Eddie. You could have been there for him, but you weren't.”

And there was the anger again. “Why the hell is it on me?!” he exclaimed. “I've been going through my own crap, and it's not like you or Buck have really been around to help me out.”

“Oh, you cannot be serious right now.” Tommy's posture straightened, his body somehow becoming even wider and taller. It would have caused Eddie to pause and think about what was about to come out of his mouth if he wasn't so mad.

“Yeah, I am serious. I've needed people too, Tommy, but you guys have been too busy with each other to even notice.”

“You made the mess you're in right now, Eddie!” Tommy yelled. “You did that! You screwed up and it's on you to fix it! But Evan didn't do anything wrong. He sure as hell didn't deserve to be talked to like that, and now his job is on the line because you decided keeping the peace with a piece of scum like Gerrard was more important than speaking up for your supposed best friend. So, yeah, that's on you!” Tommy began to make his way to the door, ready to push past Eddie on his way, but Eddie wasn't finished.

“Hey!” He yelled, shoving Tommy back so he couldn't leave. “I've been trying to fix everything on my own! Trying to get my own life back! Hell, I just got to talk to my kid for the first time in over a month!”

“And who you think got Christopher to answer the damn phone?!”

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of Eddie's lungs. He stood there, his mouth hanging open as he tried to find the right words to speak. “I... Buck's been talking to Christopher?”

“Every day,” Tommy confirmed. “He calls or texts. Facetime's him every once in a while too. He's been telling Chris how you're doing, trying to get him to call you or text you. He even suggested writing you a letter.”

“I didn't know that.”

“He didn't really want you to. Christopher had promised him the next time you tried to call, he'd answer. Evan's been like a kid on Christmas Eve, excited for you to tell him how it went after you two talked.”

Eddie didn't know what to say. He wasn't angry anymore, just incredibly disappointed with himself.

“He's always had your back, Eddie,” Tommy said, making his way out the door. Eddie didn't stop him this time. “It'd be really nice if you had his.”

[disoriented-in-wonderland]

Farmer!Yandere X Reader

After inheriting a house and grocery store from your grandparents after their passing, you are welcomed to the town of Sunset Pines with open arms by a few of the residents.

One of these residents being your helpful neighbor who owns his own farm right next door!

But little do you know about the secrets biding behind his puppy dog eyes or the odd timing he has whenever it seems like you're in trouble or need a helping hand....

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

Tw: Creepy yandere behavior, stalking, etc.

18+ readers ONLY

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Oh.

You're outside today. 

The farmer watches as you tend to the small garden in front of your house, tearing out the overgrown weeds surrounding the dying peonies left behind by your grandmother.

You pause for a moment and scrub an arm over your forehead, squinting in the direction of the sun.

No doubt you're probably working up a mighty thirst by now.

You're probably dripping with sweat from how hard you're working.

He wishes he could get closer.

Just one whiff of your scent is all he needs to get by.

Maybe he'll dig those dirty clothes out of your hamper when you've tossed them aside. 

He's taken a few things off of the clothesline that you've made use of—though nothing too noticeable—like a few pairs of your undergarments here and there. 

But unlike the hamper where used clothes get tossed aside, the clothes line only offers up clean laundry.

Sure, he likes knowing which detergent you use.

But something with your unfiltered scent? Something that smells purely of just…you?

He'd probably lose his mind if he managed to get something like that, and he's determined to do so, opting to sneak into your house on your next work day.

He knows he'll need the rest of the day to rut into whatever it is that he takes from your hamper.

Shirt? Shorts? Pants? Underwear? 

It doesn't matter.

As long as he can smell you.

The farmer's sorting through plans in his head when he sees you get to your feet and place your hands on your hips as you survey the garden. 

There's still plenty of weed and he watches as your shoulders droop.

The farmer runs a hand through his hair with the glove he uses to tend to his own crops and approaches you with a high pitched whistle. 

“Well, howdy hey! What're you doing out here on this fine summer's day, neighbor?”

You startle and jump a foot in the air. 

The action reminds him of his skittish barn cat—A calico named Peony—and much like her, you relax when you realize it's just him.

You dust your hands off on your shirt. “Oh, hi. Um, sorry. I didn't realize it was you.”

He loves that you're already so comfortable around him.

He'll work harder to make sure you feel the most at ease when in his company. 

“It's no problem at all. I'm the one hooting and hollering on your land. Now what do we have here?” He asks, like he wasn't just watching you tend to your garden and plotting to break into your house. 

“Oh, I'm just doing some gardening. Nothing special, really.”

“ ‘S that so?” He peers over your form, itching to get closer but trying to remember what his grandmommy told him about being a proper gentleman.

No touching without consent. 

But what he wouldn't give for you to give the go ahead.

“Well, how about I lend you a hand and maybe get you something to drink. You look parched.”

“Really? You'd do that?”

The sun makes your eyes sparkle and he's absolutely smitten with how you're looking up at him like he's the only man in the world.

He wants more. 

All of your smiles for him and him alone.

He doesn't want you to smile at anyone else this way.

“Of course! I'm your neighbor after all and we've gotta look out for each other.”

“Thank you so much. That honestly means the world to me.” You say and you've got him blushing and beaming himself as he kneels in front of the choked overgrowth. “I'm going to go inside for a minute, I'll be right back, okay?”

When he nods, you head up the rickety porch steps and…

“Shi- shoot!”

The farmer peers over to see your foot lodged clean through the wood. You try yanking your foot out and his eyes widen with horror.

“Careful now!” He's on his feet in a hot second before he's up the steps and at your side. “We don't want you breaking your ankle or accidentally have you scrape yourself on a rusted nail.”

He's gentle as he helps withdraw your foot from the hole.

When he ensures you're not hurt, playing down the literal terror in his heart at the thought of you getting hurt, he peers up at you.

“You alright there? That was quite the scare, now wasn't it?” 

An understatement given he wanted to tear this entire porch up and replace each plank and nail to keep that from happening ever again.

“I'm okay.” You sigh and turn towards the hole with a deep frown. “I guess I'm going to need to get a repairman to fix this. Not to mention a plumber for the brown water coming out of the faucet…and then there's the shingles…and my car payments due…”

You're biting your lip, juggling a thousand things in your mind when something…forms in the farmers mind. 

An idea of sorts. 

If he helps around the house and your property…

He'll get more time with you…

A lot more.

And maybe he'll get easier access to the inside of your house…and more of those smiles…

The farmer turns and gives you a wink. “Now, now. How's there a need for that when you've got neighbors, right?”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of it for you.”

“All of it.”

[neoraso]

riize when they're jealous

shotaro

is a little oblivious at first- for example: tries to make friends with the guy

then as the conversation drags on and taro realizes this guy is barely acknowledging him,, and is literally only talking to you he gets pretty uncomfortable

you are also getting uncomfortable and shotaro notices so he finds a way to quickly end the conversation (pretending you had somewhere else to be or smth)

he doesn't get too down about if afterwards and definitely doesn't blame you for anything he just tries to make jokes about how attractive you are "people just can't stay away from you! you're like the flower to a bee （⌒▽⌒）”

but honestly, it still irks him a bit. pls make sure to give him at least one kiss and remind him he's ur shining star

eunseok

def not the type to be worried about you around his friends or your male friends.. but random guys actually hitting on you in real.

he would never admit to being jealous, he tries to tell himself he's just annoyed with the guy or like.. worried for your safety which- um ok wtv

that being said ,, when he does get this way he goes completely cold. hard frown, glaring eyes, clenched jaw etc. etc.

he's very confident in your relationship but something about the highly unrealistic possibility that you could be swayed to leave him ruffles his feathers to say the least

i hope no one would be bold enough to try to hit on you WHILE you're with him because he'd immediately get in front of you and confront the guy "who even are you? what do you need to talk to her for?"

sungchan

oh dear lord.... it's not good. like he wont hurt anyone but sometimes wants to. like,,,

ok it depends if you were far away talking to a guy he would immediately come over and wrap his arm around you and goes "who's this." and ur like PLS don’t do anything embarrassing 😳

it’s to the point he does not want to hear about your past relationships (unless it was like a serious conversation) bc it makes his skin crawl thinking about another person touching his girl

he trusts his friends but it will take a bit of convincing to trust your friends. not bc he doesn’t have faith in you he would just get pissed at other people thinking they had a chance

i’m making him sound like a freak but he’s very open and vocal about how he feels and wants to work on it with you - but he’s always gonna be protective like a guard dog

wonbin

he’s like ., quiet possessive (?) he's just like " ur only my baby right?" wants you all to himself, near him as much as possible

jokingly says you can’t watch other groups but is like ..half joking he lowkey doesn’t want you thinking other guys are cooler than him

it really just comes down to the fact that he doesn't want to lose you.

if there was a real situation where someone was like actually flirting with you, he would get soooo sulky. - like comes over to you and puts his hand on your back, smiling at you like everything is fine 🙂( 😐)

but when he hears you say "yes, this is my boyfriend i was telling you about." his chest puffs up and he’s like jumping for joy inside T_T needs extra kisses too afterwards

seunghan

you are his baby and is very clear about it in public . always has his hands on you so it would be insane for someone to hit on you but if he walked away and someone approached u…

hhhhh lowkey gets an attitude … mostly with the other guy like tongue in cheek “is this guy serious…”

honestly kind of confrontational “can i help you? what do you need from my girlfriend?” can be intimidating when he wants to and makes sure people know he is NOT playing around

first makes sure you’re ok and then he’s like “wtf.. do i have to give you an ‘i ♡ my bf’ shirt or smth”

with his and your friends he doesn’t have a problem he trusts you all the way he just gets offended when people don’t get the hint that you’re taken

sohee

surprisingly, gets more jealous than you’d expect like sometimes ur like ???

he really just wants all your attention and if other guys try to take it he’s like . abt to start barking

that being said he trusts you 100% but when you notice his smile is like 10% less bright than usual and you ask what’s wrong he’s like “OHHH nothing -_- i just can’t believe i’m up against the whole city bc you’re so pretty. what am i to do ?”

ur just like 😭my sweet boy !! give him a kiss he’ll be cured and recovers pretty quickly

kind of is one that doesn’t really like you having male friends but he doesn’t want to control you so he’s doing deep breathing exercises if you’re really involved in a conversation with someone that isn’t him.

anton

ohhh sweet sweet anton. honestly ! doesn’t get too jealous

like he gives u your space if you’re talking to another guy but if they start subtly hitting on you he’s like ?

will bring it up to you later when you’re sitting with him like stroking your arm and he’s like “sooooo that guy ..” and ur like oh 🙄that was so annoying. did it upset you? :( and he’s like “um . i mean… well not really it was just weird ..”

will appreciate your reassurance more than he shows you

might be one to be insecure with you around the members just because you would get so close to them he’s like ha…. what if they got even closer … but then he remembers none of you would ever do that then he just hugs you a little tighter

[poppy-metal]

playing truth or dare with art and patrick and it ends with patrick daring you to suck arts cock - art is scandalized and patrick is grinning and you..... well. a dares a dare - and you and patrick have always had a competitive streak. he may have suggested it because he knows both you and art are more reserved than he is, but you suprise them both when you swallow and say, "okay," and then turn to art with big wide eyes - "is it okay if I do it?"

they both gape at you - art splutters - you're all tipsy, and all a little horny from patricks earlier dare of asking you to take your shirt and shorts off - leaving you in just a bralett and panties. they've both been serepticiously stealing glances at your stiff nipples peaking through the sheer fabric throughout the night.

art hovers his hand over his crotch - flits his gaze to patrick who looks at him like 'what the fuck' and glances back to you - cheeks pink. "um. you don't have -"

"you don't have to." patrick cuts in, clearing his throat. his cheeks are flushed too. his blush more fuscia than arts bubblegum pink. he adjusts himself in his shorts. "I was being a dick."

and maybe its the alcohol making you suddenly so brazen - but something about this - this night, this scenario, this weird fucking symbiotic friendship you have going on with these two - and them with eachother - you're horny and worked up and not wanting to back down.

so you shrug and say, "that's fine if art doesn't want me to. but don't say it's because I backed out of the dare - you guys are the ones who pussied out, not me."

silence. you feel both of their eyes on you and you know if it weren't for the buzz of alcohol you'd been twisted up in knots under their gazes. flushed and squirming.

art says, quietly - "you want to?"

you look at him - he's so pretty. angelic. soft blonde curls and blue eyes. gentle demeanor that hides a hidden nastier side you've seen glimpses of. one of your closest friends and the other half of your constant masturbatory fantasies. always with your best intrest at heart, almost annoyingly chivalrous, annoying in that it makes your cunt throb constantly.

do you want to? he'd be better off asking a dog if it wanted a treat.

you shrug - playing it cool for now. smile at him.

"I want to win my dare."

you glance at patrick then, "unless you're retracting it? accepting your loss?"

he closes his mouth which had been comically parted in shock - visibly swallowing. you watch his adams apple bob and think about all the times you've seen him toss his head back to drain a water bottle during or after a match, how many times you've watched his throat work - watched him in general really.

he was the moon to arts sun - the dark to his light - where art was prince charming wrapped up in thorns, patrick was big bad wolf trying to blow down your house. he made you hate him almost as much as he made you want him. one moment kicking his shin under a table for eating like a pig, and in the next breath having your clit pulse when he grinned salaciously at you and sucked sauce off his finger.

you almost wish he'd dared you to suck his cock - if you weren't equally as eager to get your mouth around art.

he tries to play it casual like you, but you can see the tent in his shorts - leaning back to brush a hand through his thick hair, which does nothing but flop back forward across his forehead - "a dares a dare. if art doesn't wanna bitch out then go for it." his green eyes flash, "I triple dog you."

"well now I have to do it," you tease. look back to art.

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth - his fingers idling by the buttons on his shorts. hiding your prize from you - you can feel your mouth pool with saliva and swallow, attempting not to drool. not yet.

"I dont know how I feel about being used as a sexual prop," he mumbles, but his voice is shaky and light - clearly trying to make a joke and you grin, getting on your hands and knees, so your panty clad ass is facing patrick as you crawl forward towards art like a predator stalking its prey.

"then take your hand off your cock, donaldson," you purr. he flushes up to his ears and puts both hands by his sides, leaning back on them as you approach slowly. "besides, we all know that's not true. you probably love the idea of being a prop."

he licks his lips - darting his eyes behind you to meet patricks. some secret communication - you hear patrick say, "c'mon. s'just a game - " low and deep, in a way that is very much not just a game. not to any of you.

art breathes out - looks back to meet your eyes and then extends his legs out, spreading them for you - you can see the very prominent bulge of his cock.

he nods. "alright." he says, "I guess we're doing this. shit - " you make it all the way between his legs, your eyes never leaving his as you deliberately lower your chest to the ground, ass up, until you're level with his clothed crotch.

you hear patricks sharp intake of breath from behind you - know hes getting and eye full of your ass, more than he's ever seen of it - your panties sliding into the crevice of your ass, exposing your round cheeks to him, and under that - the outline of your cunt through the thin fabric barely covering it. you imagine the dark look in his eye, him reaching down to palm his cock. it makes your pussy clench.

you look up at art sweetly, palms sliding up his thighs until you reach the buttons on his shorts - he blinks long blonde lashes down at you in awe. swallows and then says, "you're r - really pretty." and it's such an art thing to say, at a moment like this - with patrick to watch you shatter the boundaries of your already precarious friendship - probably jerk off while he does - you just think -

I'm going to suck the soul outta this boys dick in such a disrespectful, sloppy manner it will make both him and patrick look at me different.

[celestialprincesse]

Following up from this idea here!

⋆˙⟡♡

The last twelve months had been surprisingly productive for Simon. He'd been reticent at first, pushed back against the barrage of support provided for him by both the military and those who'd remained close to him outside of mere workplace obligation. That said, it hadn't taken him long to realise how big of a change a civilian lifestyle would be after twelve years of active service. Therapy had been an uphill battle, but Tina, the nice lady he saw twice weekly, who specialised in supporting veterans and those suffering with complex PTSD, was as patient as a saint, and had eventually helped him to open up.

He still, however, struggled to find a new sense of purpose. Life had become quiet, sluggish and static. When Tina had suggested he get a pet, he'd tentatively agreed.

"Hi there! How can I help you today?" Is the sweet voice that shakes him from his thoughts, bringing him back to reality only to realise he now stands at the front of the queue, before the desk of his local adoption centre.

"I'm looking to adopt..." He trails off, somewhat awkward and still a little unsure of whether there's some sort of protocol with these things. "A dog. I'm looking to adopt a dog."

After having quietly filled in the required forms, nervous under the warm gaze of the front desk attendant, he allows himself to be shown to the kennels in which the canine residents of the centre play, sleep and eat. With a nervous, almost shy gaze, Simon takes in the rowdy pack of dogs before him, before crouching to meet the crowd of wet noses coming to check him out.

"Have you got any preferences?" You pipe up from behind him, absently scratching behind the ears of a three legged Bernese Mountain dog, Lucky, who stands loyally at your heels.

"Just - um," Simon murmurs, looking between you, the dog at your feet, and a funny looking beagle, intent on sniffing at the contents of his pockets. "Just some company really. Therapist told me I needed a reason to get out, so..."

Taking his silence as an invitation to speak up, a pensive hum fills the room as you flick though the chart listing the animals currently up for adoption, and what their ideal situation would be. "You said you're quite physically active?" You probe, shooting him a glance.

"Yeah. I run and stuff. Like to try and stay fit."

Another hum of confirmation breaks the quiet as you rule out some of the less mobile options, and, having seen the way he grimaced at a slightly dishevelled Chihuahua, you take the incentive to rule out the smaller lap dogs too. You can't help but to note the way he looks between you and your own little canine friend, a look you've seen countless times on the faces of clients, the look that says that they're interested.

"I'd introduce the two of you, but she's already spoken for I'm afraid." You hum, a wry smile pulling at your lips when you note the expression on his face, surprised at your astute observation. "She's not exactly the most mobile, either."

"Oh, yeah. Right." He stammers back awkwardly, shooting you a bashful smile.

"I do, however, have someone that might take your fancy?"

Taking the laminated sheet from your offered hand, Simon is met with a grainy image of an earnest looking dog, big, marble eyes seemingly staring at him from off of the page.

"He only came in a couple days back. Golden shepherd mix from what we can tell. About four and really good natured. He's at the vet right now, but we could book you in to meet him when he's back?"

"I'd - yeah - That'd be great. Thanks." He nods, a pale blush colouring his cheeks.

Better still, when he leaves the adoption centre with a beginners pet care brochure, flipping through the pages on the walk back home, he's met with a hastily scrawled phone number, and a little smiley face below it.

⋆˙⟡♡

[grymghoul]

The way ARTHUR MORGAN smokes had always had you captivated. The way his lips pursed on the exhale, the corners of his mouth quirked up as he listened to you talk. He'd entertain your rambles much longer than he needed to, mostly because it gave him an excuse to look at you. He'd set you all comfortable and close on his thigh, his hand on the small of your back as he nodded along. "You don't say.." He'd mumble, brushing your hair from your face. "Are you even listening to me?" The words were sharp but no malice was intended. After all, you made yourself sound stupid just to watch the way he smoked. Who really was dumber here? He laughed at your accusation, his head rolling back, giving you a view of his Adam's apple and how it bobbed. "Course I am, keep goin' on about ol' miss Grimshaw.." You rolled your eyes, that subject passing long ago. You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, flicking it away. "I think I know how I can keep your attention." You were bored of his lack of serious attention and his cigarette. He leaned up, waiting for this moment, it always happened. Sooner or later, you'd get tired of his games and take matters into your own hands. "Oh, is that right?" He goaded you, giving you that self satisfied smile. "Oh, yes, mister Morgan.." He leaned up, meeting the kiss you were initiating when your hands held his cheeks. It was sloppy, rushed, you'd take him in the chair he sat in at his tent. "You never pay attention to me.." The expression you gave him bordered on puppy dog eyes. "'M sorry, lemme fix that." His hands dragged you over to straddle his lap, kissing at your neck. "Keep talkin', you got my attention." The kisses stole your breath, hands threading through his hair, as you tried to think. What stupid story were you telling, it was mundane, it was.. exciting. No, he's exciting. His mouth is hot, his scruff distracting, his hands on your breast. "Fuck. Um.." He laughed, sucking the skin just under your jaw as his free hand slid under your skirt. "Now, is that the way a lady talks?" What were you saying? You grasped at straws in your head until his fingers found your folds. He wet his lips as he watched your brain struggle behind your eyes, his fingers slipping in to the knuckle. "Poor thing.." He chuckled as you gave up on words, rocking your hips against his hand. "This the attention you wanted, pretty girl?" He smirked at the way you panted and nodded to his words, barely able to pay attention.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 6

2.7k | angst No matter how loyal, guard dogs still have their teeth (part 1) (part 7)

Simon’s steps to your door were heavy, as his heart had been since that call.

Despite his blazing wrath, he was unprepared for the waves of guilt that washed over, the shame that wrestled to drown him. He was unable to protect you from his past – he brought it upon you, even after how much too sweet you’d been, how softly you’d touched him. How could he ever look you in the eye again?

The stray never deserved any of that.

When you gave him a squeeze at the door, he didn’t return it. Still, you tugged him in with the same lovely smile, even when it wasn’t as wide.

“Fancy a cuppa?”

“No.”

Your pretty hand shouldn’t be in his filthy one. Do you even know what I do with these hands?

You sat at the dining table and Simon remained on his feet to your side, eyes fixed on the cup of pu erh before you. His fists clenched and released. You didn’t like pu erh.

At the end of the day, he was still a reaper in dress uniform - one with an unrelenting demon that lurked in the far corner. He could have fucked him up that evening at the bakery. Feel his nose crumble against his knuckles, maybe even the snap of his scrawny neck in his hands.

But no, this happened because he didn't. Like his mum said, you were good for him, of course you were. But was he for you? He was nothing but trouble.

You smiled up at him. Always so sincere, so delicate, making his stomach twist more.

“My dad’s visiting this weekend. I was wondering if you wanted to meet him? And… Um, what I should introduce you-“

Not addicted, he'd tell himself too many times, as if it didn’t sound like a bloody lie to his own ears. You were the beginning of an incurable addiction, a cliff with the bewitching view he was a step away from falling off of.

His gaze left you. “I’m going back home with my mum tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you said, your disappointment evident. “Okay, maybe next time then.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he forced the words out, nails digging into his palms. “We should stop this.”

“What… What are you saying, Simon?”

“This. Meeting you, staying over. I’ll have less time when I become captain. This isn’t going to end well,” he reasoned, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself this was the right thing.

He knew it was, even when it didn’t feel like it, like a lot of things in life. He knew one day he’d be glad he did this. One day, even when right then it felt like the worst thing he could be doing. Would someone, something, rip this decision away from his hands?

“You don't get to say that yet, not right now. I know you're going through a lot.” You reached for his hand. “But we can wait until things settle and we’ll talk-“

He pulled away from your touch. “I've made up my mind. I never meant for things to get this far.”

In the still room, his stare remained on the cup you hadn’t touched since his arrival.

“You knew this all along and you still let it happen,” you said as realisation dawned.

He looked up to meet your hardened gaze. He’d seen you sad, annoyed, angry, but this was the first time your eyes were devoid of warmth. Being the receiving end of that stare was a stab to his chest.

“I should believe people when they show me who they are.” You chuckled humourlessly. “Get out, Simon.”

The world slowed. It was hard to draw his breath as he remained unmoving, like he was chained to the floor of where his sanctuary once was. Despite the arms that ached to wrap around you and never let go, he forced himself to walk away as his blood ran cold.

The door slammed behind him. He didn’t expect a positive response, of course, but it was definitely not the shatter of his own heart.

Still, it didn’t hurt as much as it would have had he waited until you inevitably left him for one reason or another. At least he’d never have to worry about being like his dad, about hurting you, betraying you, if you weren’t there to begin with. Like he’d always known, you deserved better, someone as lovely as you – unlike this stray who would never be enough.

It’s the right thing.

He could give his mum his undivided attention now. She would never leave nor kick him out the door. If he was not wanted, he had to be endlessly needed, used dry until he was nothing but a ghost.

“Who the fuck broke my bloody door!”

Simon and his mum had been waiting for his dad’s return to the house that had turned into a complete mess. Meanwhile, she’d packed as much of her belongings as she could, her luggage in the living room.

“Sign the bloody papers before I make sure you never can anymore,” Simon barked, standing tall next to his sitting mum.

His dad rounded the corner and Simon’s jaw ticked thinking of what he did to you. He let out a weak sigh at the sight of his wife and son at the dining table, a sight he hadn’t seen in over a decade. His eyes softened.

“I don’t want anything from you, James. Please sign them and we’ll be out of here.”

He pulled out the chair across the table and propped his elbows up, face in his hands as he took a deep breath.

“I need to apologise, Melanie,” he began. “I’ve made your life hell, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I was my fault.”

“She didn’t ask,” Simon said through gritted teeth. He shoved the papers closer when he ached to break the filthy table with his dad’s skull.

“I’m sorry about your last night here. It was unforgiveable, what I did.”

Simon slammed his fist onto the table. He had watched the grand performance too many times. “You’re not fooling anybody with your tricks. Sign the bloody papers. I swear this is the last time I’m asking.”

His mum patted his hand, and he reluctantly took the seat next to her.

“I want you to have the house, Mel. You’ve always kept it too beautiful for a man like me. It’s the least I can give you after everything.” He let out a steady breath, flipping open the document. “I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for how much I’ve hurt you,” he added quietly.

Was that remorse that settled in his hollow eyes?

His mum bit her lip as a tear slipped. When Simon wrapped an arm around her, she sobbed into his chest.

No words were exchanged as his dad went through the papers, and it remained so until Simon wheeled his mum’s luggage out the door behind her.

“Goodbye, James.” She didn’t spare him another look.

“Simon?” he called in a small voice. “I’m sorry I’m not the father you deserve.”

The lieutenant threw the door shut.

Simon spent the next few days with his mum, Tommy, his wife and son. Since his last visit, Tommy’s got a new job and seemed to be spoiling his son rotten with plenty of new toys, including the shiny red bike outside. Unfortunately, even after over a year, he and Beth still hadn’t had much luck trying for a second child.

Joseph was a brilliant kid with a toothy smile, just like Tommy was, and it always surprised Simon how big his nephew got between each visit. It was a shame he only got to meet his family twice or thrice each year.

“Joe, you’ve been sitting on your uncle’s shoulders all day,” Beth said with an amused smile. “Give him a break.”

“It’s the best seat ever!” His little arms wrapped tighter around Simon’s head, eyes glued onto the cartoon on the telly.

“You need to do your homework.”

“I’ll do it here.” He poked the top of Simon’s head.

He laughed. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Come on now. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” he huffed before dragging his feet to his room.

While he flicked through the channels,  Beth went back to the kitchen where his mum was. He wasn’t one to watch the telly apart from football, but his thumb hovered over the button when the Great British Bake Off came on.

He remembered the episode. He’d watched it with you, the only person he ever watched the show with. It was yours, like a secret only the both of you knew.

It’s the right thing.

Faintly, his mum chuckled at something her daughter-in-law said, and his mind couldn’t help but drift to all the times it was you and her in his flat instead. Sharing stories, laughing, while he smiled at the sight from afar.

It’s the right thing, Riley, I promise.

He turned the telly off and went for a walk instead.

At dinner, the table admired little Joe’s drawings he’d done at school – he always saved them for when his daddy came home. With his precious family beaming, it seemed like the life Simon should have had, the one he always imagined was supposed to be like. But even without the devil trailing behind like an ellipsis, this, somehow, didn’t feel right either.

Despite his smile, his chest was heavy with the rotting carcass of the heart he didn't know he still had until weeks ago.

It’s the right thing, it’s the right thing, it’s the right thing.

Later that night, Simon’s head tilted when he entered the guestroom his mum occupied.

“Have you not packed yet? We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ve still got training on Monday.”

On the bed, she lowered her book and frowned. “I’m not leaving. Manchester is my home, Si.”

“Home is where you’re safe, mum, and you’re not here.”

She sighed, the sympathetic kind, before putting her book away. “My well-being and happiness aren’t your responsibility.”

He scoffed. “‘course they are.”

“I can’t thank you enough for thinking about me, but what’s happened, happened. I’m trying to start over, and that includes not being a baggage to you.”

He blinked. “Mum, what are you on about?” he asked carefully as he sat next to her.

“You need to live your life. You push good things away, Si.”

What… “I don’t. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Always so stubborn.” She shook her head. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Si. My first love… Your granddad didn’t want us together, and I ended up with your dad. I grew to love him, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I chose easy over real. Sometimes I wonder if I’d been less afraid, what life would be like now.

“I'm by no means regretful, because I got to have my two perfect sons, but you had to pay for my mistakes too, and for that I’m yet to forgive myself. I’m supposed to give you a good life, but I didn't. The least I can do now is not hold you back.

Her hands clasped over his. “So live for me, Si. Don't worry about me. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will always be your mum. I can’t stop loving you even if I tried. I just need to see you happy, that’s all I need from you.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m not good enough for her,” he muttered.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Isn't it too late?”

“Never.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You make it sound harder than it is.” She cupped his cheek. “It won’t be painless, but if she’s the one, it will be worth it.”

Against his mum’s shoulder, he wished his tears would stop flowing, but with the way she rubbed his back, Simon was once more just a little blond boy with the scraped knee.

From the front porch in the chill night, it was shameless how he called you at that hour, when he didn’t even say goodbye when he left. It was shameless how even after you rejected his calls, he still called for the 5th time, or 10th – he’d lost count. But at last, the line connected.

“Luv,” he said breathlessly, palm pressing against his eyes that had barely dried.

“Please stop calling me.”

“No, wait. Please, listen. Don’t-”

“You’ve made up your mind. Begging only reduces me to nothing, so I didn’t try to change it. I owe you nothing, Simon.”

And the line clicked off.

Still sat on the steps, he blinked at the phone in his hand, deciding if he was going to worsen the situation if he called again. It was shameless that he did anyway, but it went straight to voicemail.

Simon might not have had plenty of dating experience, it was shameless really, but he knew he still had a chance if you were mad.

You’d listen when he showed up at your door, still hauling his backpack.

“Luv, please. Please, listen.”

He thought his heart was about to explode when your footsteps approached. The door opened halfway.

“Hi,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he was near to tears. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t get the words out.

“I've thought about it. You're right. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was always so hard to see you leave, and I realised it’s only going to get harder.”

No, no, no...

“Thank you for being honest and saving us from further heartache. I know I didn’t have to block you, but I hope you understand my decision to not be in contact anymore.”

“Luv, no. I wanted- I want to try. I don’t care how hard it gets.“

“I care. I want stability, maybe even a family, and I see now we’re not heading in the same direction.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pained smile. “I wish you all the wonderful things, Simon. Truly, I'm so thankful I got to know you.”

He barely made out the words tumbling out of your lips, wishing he was hallucinating.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you whispered as you closed the door.

Even then, you didn’t give him a foul look for his audacity to show his face after biting the hand that fed him. It was the last time you were going to see him, why did you still have to treat him with respect?

He wished you’d have said something mean, even sick. You should have called him names, tell him he was the most ungrateful man there was, that he was just like his dad, so he had something to hate, so the fire could flare up high once more and he’d be safe behind it like he always was.

But it was you. You could stab him in the chest, and he wasn’t sure it would have been enough to hate you. To overwrite how wonderful you’d been to the wounded stray.

His gaze cast down, unmoving at your door. He did this to himself. It was his fault for dropping his cold stare, for smiling, for looking when you weren’t, cracking his jokes, touching your hand and kissing you, for lying down and baring his belly. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t want him anymore after what he’d done.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the vivid curve of your lips, your soft laugh, the caress of your fingers. The ache for you morphed into an itch that made him want to claw at his skin, to replace the sweetness with bright, searing pain.

Would you please do the humane thing and shoot him so he didn’t have to drown in the storm that brewed in him?

It was for the best, he told himself. It was what he wanted after all, to keep his problems away from you, to keep you happy, even when he wasn’t in the picture. Leaving you was his repayment for being a thankless beast.

“Just because I go, doesn’t mean my heart follows,” he whispered.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast

[evilminji]

Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[miguel-ohara-eater]

Practice

——————————

(summary: Miguel was helping you practice capturing anomolies, but he was in his rut and could smell that you were ovulating.)

CW: no actual sex this time, dry humping, grinding, biting, play fighting, licking, cumming in clothes, a little bit of public stuff ig, sniffing.

——————————

Miguel swung his fist right in front of your face, his knuckle brushing across your nose as you ducked last second.

you and Miguel were practicing, and he was training you for the anomalies.

"hey! were training not trying to kill eachother!" you say, tackling him and putting him in a headlock.

"you think the anomalies are gonna give you slack??" he asks, throwing you over his shoulder and pinning you down.

you grumbled, lifting up your knee and trying to push him off.

the second you lifted your leg his pupils dilated, the scent of the slick in between your legs hit his nose.

you would be lying if you said him on top of you wasn't hot, but you were ovulating anyways and he was in heat.

his breath got weird, and he immediately got off of you and you sat up.

"Miguel?...you good?" you ask, looking at him and he shakes his head.

"You're ovulating aren't you." he says, staring into your soul.

your eyes widen and you sit on your knees. "I um-... yeah? why does that even matter?"

you were confused, and a little surprised how he'd guessed that.

he looked around at the two other recruits minding their business on the other side of the training room. he leaned over, grabbing your wrist and he stood up.

"let's go." he demanded, and you decided just to follow him.

he led you into Sector 4, down the hall of his lab and he pressed a couple buttons on his watch.

"LYLA! make sure nobody gets in here." he barked into his watch, dragging you onto his platform.

"yes Miguel." Lyla said, blocking the elevators and doors from others access.

he pushed you down onto the floor, getting on top of you in between your legs and he pinned you down

"I could SMELL you." he hissed, his eyes red.

you just looked up at him, more aroused than ever to be completely honest. he leaned his head down, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and he sniffed you.

after a couple seconds he pressed his obvious boner into your clothed pussy, looking at your flushed face.

"you like this don't you?" he teased, and you couldn't lie because you knew he'd be able to smell it on you.

you looked away, opening your mouth to say something but you just nodded.

"fine. maybe I do. but you can't blame me!" you say, side eyeing him.

"can I?" he asked, not really asking to he honest because either way he was going to.

you thought for a second, then nodded. "please?"

he slowly moved his hips, his growing boner underneath his suit rubbing against your pussy underneath yours.

he grunted, biting your neck and his hands grabbed at your breasts, rubbing over the fabric covering your nipples.

you held in your moans, feeling like it'd be pathetic to moan when all he was doing was dry-humping you.

he kept going, his crotch rubbing against yours and his pants and grunts filling your ears.

"k-keep going." you say, trying to keep your voice steady and he starts humping you faster, like a horny dog in heat.

his face was flushed, his cock twitching in his pants and his eyebrows scrunched together.

"is it bad I'm close?" you whimper, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

he shakes his head, not even saying anything and focusing on your pussy.

your hole was clenching around nothing, desperate for penetration.

you slowly feel the knot build, and before you know it you both are cumming inside your spidersuits.

Miguel whimpers, biting down on your shoulder and your back arches off of the ground.

once the orgasm passes, your suit is drenched and so is his.

you look up at him as he gets one last sniff, before sitting up.

"next time can you just fuck me?" you ask boldly

he raises an eyebrow, thinks for a second, then shrugs.

"sure. tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

——————————

this one's shorter idk

but idea from @miguel-ohara-lover I think.

I got kinda lazy on this one.

——————————

[saintpavlov]

he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.

you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.

it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.

he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.

"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"

atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"

you smile. "no worries."

it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.

you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?

it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.

you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.

you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.

"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.

you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.

whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."

the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.

with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"

he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.

"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.

"but—"

"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.

"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."

"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."

that catches you off guard. "pretend?"

"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."

"osamu, your birthday's in october."

"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."

something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.

"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.

"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."

"you—what—that's not—"

"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.

osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.

"osamu—"

a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."

you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.

osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.

"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.

"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.

it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.

he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"

"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.

osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."

his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"

"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."

it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?

you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.

"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.

"for what?"

"stayin'."

and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.

[xinghius]

Like A Madness

He'd dispute the notion growing up, but — if it shouldn't have already been obvious from the get go — Katsuki always knew there was something wrong with him.

Still, it's a bit too much. To keep watch over you while you sleep — eyes mapping the soft expression you wear in repose, then flitting down to survey the rise and fall of your chest — all while he's supposed to be on his morning run. And, by now, over with it too. Hitting the shower and scrubbing grime off his chest, his skin tender from the heat of it all.

Instead, he's acting all creepy like a stalker. Unmanly, Kirishima would comment if he were here. And for what?! To trace his index finger against your hairline, utilizing it as a defense machine to push back strands of hair that threaten to disturb your slumber?!

Fuck. He's personifying strands of hair now too? The fuck?!

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,"' he hisses.

You grumble underneath the insult, stirring from the noise, and he can't help the way his lips purse in silence, as if in reflex. His spine straightening in apprehension, complacent to the object of his complaints.

His eyebrows furrow at the realization. He's gotten soft — weak.

No, not weak. He isn't weak in the slightest. Far from it, actually. But he'd softened up where he used to harden and he can't help but feel a little stupid for it.

Learning this stings like a thousand wasps. It prickles his skin until red creeps into his cheeks and springs up to the tip of his ears.

Fucking fuck. Shitty fucking… FUCK!

"Um—" Disheveled in all your morning glory, you lay beneath him, eyes blown wide. You look messy as fuck — dried up drool gracing one corner of your lip — yet somehow also the most beautiful sight he could possibly come across before starting his day. A danger. "—Katsuki, are you okay?"

Fuck his life. "Shut the hell up."

You stretch your limbs out, toes curling in on themselves. "That's not fair now, is it?" You yawn. "I just woke up." Then, another. "Hey, help me out here."

Like clockwork, Katsuki latches onto the sides of your waist. He doesn't need to be told twice. You let him hold you as your back arches, unraveling every knot that twisted itself into you during the night. When you let out a final yawn, blinking away traces of sleep in your eyes, he's already onto you.

"No, Kats." You press a palm flat against his mouth.

The look he gives you is incredulous, almost accusatory.

"Morning breath," you remind. "Let me brush my teeth first."

He licks the plain of your hand, as if to say no. You draw it back in response, grimacing at the wetness and how smug he looks throughout it all. Still, you don't even have enough time to squeeze in a word of chide before he's onto you again, pushing you against the weight of the mattress, searing hot kisses to your mouth. Like an imprint.

You laugh between each one of them, giggling as he presses you further against the bed. "I just woke up," you breathe, your back now sunken into the mattress. "I've had enough bedtime."

"Shut up," he says.

You click your tongue, strike a flick against his forehead.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you."

He hisses at the contact. And while you have enough grace to feel horrible enough to stroke at it, the inkling dissipates in an instant. "You don't feed me," he cavils. "Hell, you don't even know shit about cooking. Wanna talk about how you fucked up—Oi!"

"Don't bite. Stupid dog."

"HA?"

You giggle once more, and the sound of mirth tumbling from your lips is liquid gold to his ears. You spring up to lay against him, head on his shoulder, arms encasing his frame.

(What's yours is mine — he always said. Surely, what's his should be yours, too. And by extension, that means his personal space is for you to intrude on.)

"You're so needy, Katsuki," you coo.

"'M not," he grates. "The hell…"

He clearly isn't. Judging by the way he leans into you anyway, nosing at your neck and tracing the outline of his teeth as a preamble to sinking them into the flesh. Gently, of course. He's no vampire — and as much as everyone seems to think otherwise, he's no heathen, either. Still, your skin is soaked in sweat and you'd really like that bath…

"Hey," you poke. "Let me wash up before you eat me."

He grouses, rolling his eyes as he peels himself off you, murmuring something along the lines of big talk for someone who doesn't even wash her damn fruit under his breath. And in spite of the request being made in your name, you let out whines of protest when he untangles your limbs from his.

"You asked for this, damn woman."

"Ueegghhh."

"The hell?!"

You blink, beady eyes pleading.

"Carry me to the bathroom?"

You raise your arms, gazing at him expectantly. He dismantles all hope in you when he tells you there's a fat chance in hell you'd be getting princess treatment now — though, more sodden with attitude.

"Then when?" you ask, pouting.

The silent imploration doesn't go over his head.

It's practically a whine. Of fucking course it is. With how damned spoiled you are and how often he enables it — the answer to that being always — it's no surprise. Still, as much as he'd vehemently repudiate it in the face of another, Katsuki's guilty as charged, already hooking his arms behind your knees to carry you bridal style.

You make up for it, at least. Cycling through your pre shower routine before stripping him down and pulling him in with you. And even if he has to scold you for getting shampoo in his eyes and forcing him to scrub your back, he supposes it's fine. When you kiss him afterwards with no restraint, murmuring several sweet thank you, Katsuki's against the shell of his ear, he can't say he minds too much.

(He'll be your knight in shining armor for as long as you need it. Defender of foreheads and provider of back scrubs and whatever the hell comes with the terms and conditions of being a good boyfriend. Fuck, he'll even soften up however much you need him to, so long as it guarantees he can spend mornings like this forever — with you.)

[brewed-pangolin]

Consider lovely charming Soap trying to make an innocent reader swoon for him, all for the reader to unintentionally pull an uno reverse on him. Hes chatting their ear off, talking himself up. All of sudden the reader interrupts him and says that he has the prettiest eyes they've ever seen. Johnny starts to malfunction, he can't talk, his face is going red hot.

Usually he doesn't get so tripped up but it came from such a genuine place, he tongue tied. Instead of him being a cassanova like usual he's just staring at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes and pining for you.

Blue Eyed Casanova

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

Synopsis: Johnny Casanova pulls you in with his eyes, and you shake up his world with nothing but an unconscious whisper.

--

Look, you can't just throw Johnny's eyes out there and not expect me to go a little crazy. His baby blues fill my soul, okay.

I went back and forth on this for a while. Wanted to do a full fic but went for the drabble instead. Hope you like it.

Also including this with @glitterypirateduck SoapItUp Challenge. Used Prompt 29.

Happy Super Soap Sunday 🧼

You never thought you'd be so enthralled by a man while sitting at a coffee shop.

Hanging on every word, ears perking to the subtle nuances of his thick accent. Going all doey eyed as he reminisced about his younger years back home in Glasgow.

Eyes tracking his hands as accentuated his stories with gentle, undulating movements. Glancing every now and then at his luscious lips that just begged to be kissed.

You had to pull yourself back a few times. The urge to lunge over the table and lock him in an embrace, making your skin tingle and stomach churn with overwhelming eagerness.

But it was his eyes. Those gorgeous, cerulean orbs that sparkled like diamonds in the soft light of the morning sun. A blue that enchanted, pulled you into the maelstrom of his soul, and you were nothing but a wading vessel lost in his turbulent sea.

-

"You have such pretty eyes, Johnny," you whispered under your breath. Barely audible.

Johnny froze mid sentence. Hands raised, cupping the bulk of his account between his palms with his mouth agape and eyes twinkling in boyish bewilderment.

"W-what ya say?"

You smiled. Unashamed at being caught by your verbal plunder.

"I said, you've got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

Johnny closed the cavern of his gaping mouth with a dramatic gulp. Adam's apple undulating beneath the flesh of his neck as a rosey hue radiated over the circumference of his cheeks.

And those eyes glistened. Exploding waves of color like a supernova within the whites of deep space.

"Uh- me eyes? Ya- ya like me eyes?" He stuttered. That confident Casanova overtaken by childlike astonishment at the most beautiful words he'd ever heard.

"Yeah, Johnny. I do."

"Um, thanks. Got 'em from me mum. She's got th'most hypnotizin' stare I've ever seen. Y'know, the kind that..."

You couldn't help the curl to your mouth as he rambled on once more. The skiddish waiver on his tongue was all the confirmation you needed that your words had had the unconsciously planned impact.

You leaned over, just enough to cup his jaw in your hands to render him silent to your oncoming approachment.

"You talk too much," you purred, just before placing a tender kiss on his welcoming lips.

A subtle moan reverberated deep within his throat, making your eyes flutter closed as it vibrated against your mouth and echoed down the curve of your spine and into the hollow of your core.

The faintest gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue beg for entry into your mouth.

Granting him. Tasting him. Savoring the flavor of espresso and last night's whiskey on his breath as the calloused flesh of his palm cupped the supple curve of your jaw.

You wanted more. Needed more. Begged for the world to disappear and let his skilled hands work you over as his mouth greedily devoured your heart and soul.

The last remnant of your sanity made you pull away. A hushed whimper fell from your lips as your eyes cracked open to see the very flushed face of one breathless Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish.

"Steamin Jesus, lass. Was tha' your plan th'whole time? Makin me swoon all over ya, only fer you to get me all wrecked by them pretty words a'yers?"

"Maybe. Did it work?"

He nodded. Eyes swirling, bright blue darkening like an approaching storm.

"Aye. It did."

He leaned in to take your lips once more, yet you halted him. Pressing your fingers to his mouth while you pursed your lips with a knitted brow.

"Not here. Need somewhere more private."

"Why? Cannae I kiss ya out in public?"

A devious smile crept into your lips. Leaning in while simultaneously grabbing at your purse. Bringing your mouth to his ear to mutter the sweetest temptation and force a pleasured shrill down his spine.

"I don't want you to kiss me on my lips up here, Johnny. I want to see how pretty those eyes are gonna look between my thighs."

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @shotmrmiller @ghosts-goldendoodle @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @obligatoryghoststare @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @tacticalanxiety @simpingoverquestionablemen @mykneeshurt @kkaaaagt @haurasha @havoc973 @luismickydees @foxface013 @designateddeadend

[teencopandthesourwolf]

"I'll text Stiles," Scott says, grabbing his backpack. "Then I'm gonna go see Allison.”

When Scott turns back around, Derek's lips are a thin line and they are the only part of him that moves when he asks, through his teeth, "Are you going to talk to her, too?”

Scott just squints. Because—huh? 

"Derek, what do you mean, am I going to talk to her, too?” He narrows his eyes even more, suspicious. “Why else would I be going to see Allison, if not to talk to her? I don't just, like, watch her from afar like some creeper, you know." 

Scott isn't about to admit that he has, embarrassingly, done just that on occasion. Alright, occasions, plural—but only once or twice! Five or six times, tops. And only ever when he thought Allison was, or could possibly be, in danger. It's not weird, though. It's not! It's noble, okay? It just sounds weird when you say it out loud. Even if he hasn't actually said it out loud. Well, at least not just now anyways; he's said it in front of the mirror a couple times and it turns out your reflection can be pretty hurtful and judgemental which, honestly, is a little upsetting.  

Just as Scott realises that Derek must know he just told a lie—half-lie!—the Alpha's face does a thing that Scott has never seen it do before. Ever. The dude looks almost… Human. 

And, what the hell? 

Derek clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and worries at his bottom lip a bit and now Scott is feeling anxious because who is this guy? And what has he done with Derek ‘I Will Never Give A Single Thing Away About Myself Ever Other Than The Fact I Am Eternally Pissed’ Hale? (that's one of Stiles's). 

Just the possibility of Derek ‘Emotionally Open and Vulnerable’ Hale is, like—it's just way too much for Scott to handle on a Sunday morning when he's supposed to be at the veterinary surgery in less than fourteen minute's time and has to somehow manage fitting in seeing Allison on the way.

But it seems Scott is also too nosy to just move on from this and let sleeping dogs lie. And both of those things are really annoying because strange old phrases and being overly curious is usually a Stiles thing, not a Scott thing, so Scott really doesn't know what he's supposed to do! 

W.W.S.D. 

What Would Stiles Do?

"Um, Derek, have you been—"

"Firstly, McCall, following somebody around and watching them from a distance is not creepy if you think that they need to be tailed for their own safety, alright?" Derek starts and—well.

Exactly!

Scott actually genuinely likes Derek, for just a moment, because he knew he'd been right about that! He gives himself an internal high-five and an imaginary congratulatory pat on the back because being kind to yourself is never a bad option. Unfortunately, Scott now also has to admit to himself that it does, in fact, sound weird when you say it out loud. Or, well, think it out loud. Whatever, he knows what he means.

He realises that Derek is still speaking.

"...because Stiles is human and also the biggest danger-magnet in the pack, so it makes sense that one of us should be keeping tabs on him. Thirdly, I—“ 

“Someone, Derek!” Scott blurts, “I was going to ask if you've been creeping on someone!" he interrupts because—honestly, in the most way possible—what?! The hell?!

Scott is both stunned and annoyed at hearing that Derek has been following Stiles (hiding around dark corners and slinking about the place like a wolf ninja. Scott should know. Shut up.) 

Because Stiles! Is Scott's best friend! 

And, like, how long has he been doing this? And for what purpose, really? Because Derek's heart just skipped about twelve beats, never mind one, so reason number two was obviously at least a half-lie of his own. 

That's when Derek's mouth clacks audibly shut. 

Scott just stares. And he knows; there is more going on here than meets the eye.

Then it's obvious that Derek knows that Scott knows and then everybody is knowing and looking and looking and knowing and Scott just—he can't stand it, okay? He needs confirmation. He doesn't necessarily want it, but it's like his mom always says: Life's tough sometimes. 

Eventually, he manages to say, "Are you stalking Stiles, Derek?" and hopes to hell he's wrong because he now feels somewhere in between being affronted on his best friend's behalf, totally grossed-out because it's Derek, ugh, and maybe just a little bit amused. Or is it bemused? Possibly confused. Scott is definitely some of those words. 

And again, seriously, what the hell?  

Has Derek honestly been creeping on Stiles because he's concerned for Stiles's safety? And, if so, why? Like, does Derek even get concerned for humans? Or other wolves for that matter (apart from maybe his own betas which is probably only a biological thing anyway, Scott reckons). Does Derek care about anybody? At all? Dude doesn't even care about himself, Scott doesn't think.

Scott now tries his best to come up with another reason, any other possible reason, that someone might have to follow a person around, but he can't seem to land on—OH, GOD! DOES DEREK HAVE A CRUSH ON STILES? Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! He can't. But he—nope. No! Because what. The actual. Hell! He just—no. No, no, no. He can't! Can he? Oh, my God, what if he does?! And if it is true... ew! Derek Hale crushing is just gross! And on Stiles?! Just, no. But also, why? And also-also, how the hell did Scott not notice something sooner?! 

And another thing: Did Scott somehow wake up this morning having somehow travelled in his sleep to one of those Affirmative Universe places that Stiles is always banging on about?

Man, Scott has, like, so many questions. 

Derek still hasn't said anything and is just standing opposite Scott with his stupid arms folded across his stupid chest with his stupid beard in his stupid loft looking really, really stupidly sheepish, and Scott thinks, yep.

Affirmative Universe. 

He doesn't know what to do and Stiles isn't here to ask, so he waves a confused (and maybe amused and bemused) arm in the air and says, “Derek, what the hell is going on? Have we travelled to an Affirmative Universe or something, because—”  

“Don't you mean Alternative Universe?”  

“—you never just, I don't know, don't throw something offensive or at least defensive back at me when I'm talking to you about Stiles. Or, you know, anybody else. Or anything else, come to think of it!”   

Derek now looks, for real, actually scared.

And Scott? Well, Scott is now officially terrified.  

His phone starts ringing and, as it's already in his hand, he just answers it without looking, eyes still fixed on Derek The Imposter. 

“Yooooo, amigo, what's the plan?” 

It's Stiles. Of course it's Stiles. 

Stiles is on the phone and Derek Hale might-probably-definitely have a crush on him, and Scott may or may not be in an Affirmative Universe but can't know for sure and can no longer speak or think or breathe.

“Uh, Scottie? Scottland? Sir Scott-A-Lot? You there, ol’buddy, ol’pal?” 

Derek can obviously hear who is on the other end of the phone. He looks positively constipated, his brows knitting together even tighter than before, tighter than ever before, and his lethal jaw is ticking away like it's being controlled by the World Clock in Berlin that Scott learned about in middle school.

Scott sighs, heavy, like he's seventy years old instead of seventeen.

Derek is now giving his best version of Scott's own speciality Puppy Dog Eyes (something Stiles and Allison always accuse him of), with a definite flavour of please, don't tell…

And Scott wants to cry. Like a baby. Like, throw himself onto the floor and scream and shout and kick his feet in the air. 

Instead, he grits his teeth together like the mature person he is, feeling very firmly smooshed between a best friend-shaped rock and a werewolf-scented hard place. 

Ugh, his life is just so unfair!

He mouths YOU OWE ME to Derek, and Derek's whole body visibly sags with relief. 

Then he takes a deep breath and answers Stiles—who is now chanting ScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottie down the phone—with, “Dude, shut up and listen, will you! I think we might have a very real problem with Affirmative Universes!”

[rogueddie]

"You have glasses!"

Steve looks up, in time to see Eddie skipping out of his room. "Why were you in my room?"

"Being nosey. More importantly!" He holds Steves glasses up, almost victoriously. "You wear glasses!"

"No, I don't. I wear contacts."

"You wear- how did I not know this?" Eddie flops down next to him, waving the glasses in his face. "Put 'em on, will ya?"

"No?"

"Please?"

"I'm not putting them on. I wear contacts, I don't need glasses."

He takes them off Eddie, putting them on the side table and, thankfully, Eddie doesn't bring them up again for the rest of the night. And, optimistically, Steve thinks that maybe that means that he's fully dropped it.

Only the next time Eddie comes over, he finds the glasses again, like a sniffer dog. He's doesn't badger Steve to put them on, just puts them on a nearby table. When Steve tries to scold him, he gives his best wide, sad doe-eyes.

"I'm never going to put them on," Steve says.

"Never?"

"Never."

Eddie sighs, flopping down on so he's laying on the sofa, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. "I can't believe you would betray me like this! You have wounded me! It stings, Stevie, deep in my soul!"

Again, the next time, Eddie puts the glasses on a nearby table. He never says anything and, if Steve doesn't address them, then Eddie seems content to pretend they're not there as well.

Even when Steve does address them, Eddie is- as always- very good at matching the mood. He's usually teasing. Though the one time Steve had been genuinely annoyed, Eddie apologized. He said that, if he really wanted him to, he'd stop putting them out. And the next time he hadn't... so Steve teased him. Which started their little routine up again as though nothing had happened.

It makes Steve curious enough to try them on. He hadn't put them on since he'd tried the frames on, before the lenses with his prescription had been put in them.

They're not horrible. But he still hates how they look.

"Why don't you like your glasses?" Eddie finally asked one day, once their usual teasing had died down.

"I just don't." Steve shrugs. "I don't know. They look a little ugly."

"Hm." Eddie frowns. "What's your prescription?"

"Uh, I wrote it on a note inside the case, I think... yeah, here."

Eddie accepts the little paper, but doesn't hand it back. Steve doesn't notice.

A month later, Eddie knocks on his door.

"Eds," Steve greets, surprised. "I thought we were meeting at the Byers house?"

"We are," Eddie holds out a little present. "I wanted to give you these early."

Steve tuts, but accepts the present, stepping back so Eddie can step inside. He doesn't start opening it until they sit down in the living room.

"Wh- Eddie," Steve whines, holding the glasses case like they're a dead animal he doesn't want to touch. "Dude, no, come on."

"Just... look first. Please?"

He rolls his eyes, but opens the case anyway. He's surprised by the frames Eddie's chosen. They're not the kind Steve would have picked out for himself.

"Try them on? I won't look!" Eddie even throws his hands over his eyes.

"Fine. Stay here."

Steve is surprised by how much he does like them, once he puts them on. He only hesitates for a moment before taking his contacts out, so he can wear the glasses instead.

"Thank you," Steve says as soon as he steps back into the living room.

Eddie stares at him for a long moment. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"You look really pretty."

"Oh, ha, yeah, uh," Steve says, stuttering, flushing bright red. "Thanks. Um."

"Seriously. Fucking... jesus. Sorry, it's... you look good." Eddie shakes his head. "Merry fucking Christmas to me."