#fic: diamonds are forever

[msnihilist]

I finished DAF and damn do I adore everything about it. You based it on one of the weakest episodes of the series and made it work. I love the thought you put into not just Rook and Ben, but also your OCs. Usually I worry about OCs in some fics, but in this case I enjoyed them a lot! Especially Murowa cause wow I never knew I needed a sadistic Nemuina in my life.

Thank you so much!! I am also surprised that my brain picked one of the most nothing episodes of UAF to play around with, haha. Next I'll be writing 100K words about "Fool's Gold" (← absolutely not, btw)

I still love the OCs I wrote for that fic, haha. Murowa is still my favorite 💕 I adore her. I actually recently designed/named my Terraria character after her :p She is with me, always.

[nekrosdolly]

diamonds aren't forever - devil may cry

A mini-series involving my self-insert oc, Kori, from the third-person point of view.

Plot; After fleeing Fortuna alongside Trish and friends when His Highness attacks the city, years later Kori finds herself caught up in the devil-hunting business as Dante's part-time assistant and librarian in Red Grave City up until his disappearance. When he returns with his twin, her otherwise unstable life comes to a rearing halt.

Characters; Vergil Sparda (Devil May Cry 5), Dante Sparda (Devil May Cry 5), Kori Albescu (Original Character), Niko Mars (Friend's Original Character), Nico (Devil May Cry 5), Kyrie (Devil May Cry), Nero Sparda (Devil May Cry 5)

Ships; Vergil/Kori (main), Kyrie/Nero (side/implied), Nico/Niko (side), Trish/Lady (implied)

CW; Canon-typical violence, post-canon timeline, romance, slow-burn, major character death, descriptions of panic attacks and generalized anxiety disorder, etc. (will update as chapters come out)

Chapters; Prologue, 01 (coming soon)

[c0ffinrehearsal]

last line tag

thank u @greenvlvetcouch, @spindrifters & @fruity-individual for tagging me! y’all are gettin’ a loooong snippet from chapter 3 of I’ve got diamonds in my eyes (for you) bc I love u & bc I just re-wrote this whole scene at once so it counts as one line to me 😇

“C’mon baby - up you get,” Remus taps the back of Sirus’s thighs with the very tips of his fingers and Sirius blinks down at him. “Up? What do you - oh.”

Remus cuts him off by making it very clear what he means, lifting one of Sirus’s legs over his shoulder to set his foot gently on the edge of the tub behind them.  One of his hands slides up to hold Sirius’s hip and keep him steady, “Press back against the wall with your foot and put your other leg up too, baby.” Sirius does - the towel draped across the edge of the tub is soft and secure under the arch of his foot and Remus holds his weight like it’s nothing, not even a hint of strain on his lovely face. His hair is starting to frizz up from the hot water and Sirius feels absolutely unwound with desire at the sight of him. “Are you comfortable?” Remus asks, grinning confident and dark, pressing it against the water-warmed skin of Sirius’s thigh. Sirius nods, stunned into silence. “Good - I’ll take care of you.” Steam floats around them in big, dense swirls. Sirius flexes his calves, pushes against the tub beneath his feet and arches his spine just enough to press his body down into Remus’s big hands.  “There you go, that’s perfect.” Remus is talking to Sirius in a low, calming voice - one that Sirius rarely gets to hear unless he’s being very good. “Move however you need to, baby, I can take it.” Remus’s quiet words and gentle fingers are such a contrast to their usual dynamic - Remus pushing Sirius around, roughing him up and pressing him down into the floor, or bed, or wall - that Sirius whimpers, overwhelmed, shaking his head back and forth against the shower wall so hard that water flies from his hair in big drops.

“Careful, pup” Remus says, lips moving up the crease in Sirius’s thigh - just to the side of where Sirius desperately wants them to be, “don’t make a mess.” 

And oh, okay, that’s more like it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Moony.” Remus laughs a little, pleased if not a little smug, and wraps his hands around the very back of Sirius’s thighs to hold onto his ass, fingertips meeting in the hot, wet crease of it. Sirius shivers, giving a harsh nod even though Remus can’t see it. Those big hands on his ass pull Sirius forward just the slightest bit, testing the stability of their position. Remus hums a little, satisfied that they won’t topple over, and then yanks Sirius forward and onto his hot, open mouth.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[moechies]

౨ৎ ⋆ pinky promise! ꨄ toji fushiguro

sypnosis: pinky promises with your big endearing husband

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 1.4kwords ꒱ angst w/ comfort ending, fluff, reader cries :<, big soft amazing husband toji

author’s note : dis dumb idea popped up into my head during a break ‘nd i couldn’t stop thinking about it all dayyy!! fic may be a little self indulgent and delusional but :( fun fact,, yv can’t deal with angst where the charac dies because it actually makes so sad so i have to give dem a happy ending :,3

enjoy !1!1!

it’s dumb.

pinky promises at your grown age, intertwining fingers with another and pressing a chaste kiss to your thumb to seal it. you’re not a kid anymore.

in fact, toji thinks it’s dumb too.

the moment you told him about the scarcity of pinky promises, and how much they meant to you, he laughed. he held you in his arms tightly on the cushioned couch of your shared living room, chuckling as you verbally beat him up about laughing at you.

“i’m serious, stop laughing !”

“‘m sorry doll, but that’s ridiculous.”

“nuh uh, it’s not.” you stuff a chip in his mouth, “if you wanna date me, y’have to do pinky promises with me.”

his eyes bore into your cheeky grin, what a contagious little thing. he can’t help but crack a smile at the childish request, mumbling a little something under his breath before you poke at his cheek.

“what did you say?!” you yelp, fingers pulling at his cheeks.

“nothin,’ doll, don’t worry about it.” he grins before gently tugging his face away from your assaulting fingers, careful not to embarrass your little ego. you pout, but don’t forget about your original question to the man,

“so? y’have to do it, because you can’t break up with me..” you pout at the thought, head lowering in hopes that he’d fall for your pity trap and subconsciously agree.

he laughs. toji isn’t dumb, not even close. “okay, i’ll do those childish little promises with you.”

“they’re not childish, toji!”

“they are.”

“they’re not !”

“they.. definitely are.” he snickers.

“fine. whatever. can we make our first promise, then?” you hold out a pinky to his face, nicely manicured with a pretty slim band on your ring finger.

you tug on his larger hand, pulling on the pinky that he purposefully clenched into his fist. “let go, toji!” you squeal, attempting to pull his finger away from the inside of his palm, but he keeps a firm grip to get a reaction out of you. he decides it’s enough when he sees your mouth open, obviously resorting to biting.

“alright, alright, here.” he huffs, pointing out his pinky mirroring yours.

your smile is magnetic, eyes as big as doe’s as you intertwine your pinky into his. “okay, what should our first promise be?”

“you decide cutie.”

“mm,” your brows furrow, “kay, you have to promise to love me forever.”

“dumb girl. that’s a given. no?”

“doesn’t matter!” you shake your head, “y’can’t ever break a promise! ever. this is just confirmation, okay?” you grin, kissing the man on the cheek when he nods stiffly.

“okay, say it then.”

“i’ll love you, my sweet girl, forever.” he can’t help but smile when your face flushes, lips quivering slightly almost as if you’re nervous. your eyes are hardly able to look into his, as if two highschool virgins who just shared their first kiss.

“k-kay,” you giggle, “i promise to love you forever too, toji.” toji hums, “that’s right.”

“okay, now, you have to kiss your thumb. we hafta do it at the same time.”

“for what ?”

“to seal it, toji ! so you can never go back on it.”

he kisses the tip of his thumb simultaneously as you nip yours, diamond eyes staring into yours. you grow flustered, hand which had been intertwined with his lightly slapping against his face to stop his staring.

“stop lookin’ at me like that!”

.⋆*

you subconsciously turn your body away from your husband, moaning and writhing in your sleep. beads of sweat crown on your forehead as your mewls grow loud, waking toji up in a cold sweat.

he fumbles to you, shaking your arm slightly in order to wake you. your short sniffles make his heart drop, pulling himself over you to see your face.

you’re crying.

a singular tear beads in the corner of your eye, limping down the bridge of your nose before spilling onto the white sheets. toji watches you intently, still attempting to awaken you without scaring you soulless.

“c’mon sweet thing, wake up.” he whispers, adjusting and pulling your body close into his, snug against his chest. he feels a slight tickle against his bare pecs when your head falls into and against his shoulder, watching your lashes slowly trickle open, eyelids fluttering rapidly.

you scramble gently before you’re aware, giving in and falling pliantly against your husband as he coos.

he feels his heart ache when you nudge yourself further into his body, wrapping your smaller arms around his torso, mumbling incoherent nothings into his chest with unnoticed tears.

“t— toji , d-don—“

“come ‘ere, doll. tell me what’s wrong? hm? ‘s alright.” he coos, laying low so that you’re face to face, and no longer hiding against his chest. his lips come to press a warm chaste kiss against your forehead, thumb soothing over your messy baby hairs as he reads into your expression.

“t-toji.” you sniffle, attempting your best to pull yourself together to rid the weight off your chest. “‘s just me, doll.” he grins.

“toji, can we make a promise? pinky promise? p-please?” you stutter, and it rips him to pieces. to see you so vulnerable, eyes full of innocent pain, as if you were once again, a kid who had just gotten told no.

he wanted to see it back, yours bright eyes so full of life. and looking into your crystalline ones now, he almost didn’t know if he would ever have it back.

“y-yeah, of course, sweet thing. what’s wrong ?”

“promise,” you sniffle,

“promise you’ll always be h-here, always gonna come home to me, and we’ll live happily ever after. o-okay?”

he feels a lump grow in his throat.

so desperate, so eager to say ‘yes, i promise,’ but yet when he opens his mouth to speak, there’s nothing; not even a squeak. so silent you could hear a pin drop.

his chest tightens when he feels your pinky point out from your fist below the sheets, feeling your hand slowly drag against the blanket, bringing it up towards his face. his chest aches, staring into your clueless-like eyes with a gaze he never once had before.

“please, pinky p-promise, toji?” the silence carried you on edge, bottom lip quivering as tears thread along your lash line threatens to spill.

“doll, i can’t.” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss onto the back of your hand.

and there it was, that look, almost as if he had betrayed you, told you he didn’t love you. he feels his world crash down, as so do you at the sudden beam of reality, the cruel world you and your lover had been stuffed in.

“b-but—“

“i can’t, doll. i can’t lie t’you like that. y’said i can never break your pinky promises, hm?“

“yes but—“ his thumb swipes across your flushed cheeks, barely holding himself together having to look into your broken expression. eyes full of hopelessness, and it breaks his heart.

“don’t cry, baby.” he kisses the tip of your nose,

“y’know i’d give everythin’ to be able to promise you that if i could.”

and you sob.

hopelessly into the man’s chest, holding him impossibly close as he does the same back. his arm splayed across your back, pulling you in tight as he shushes your cries. “baby, don’t cry. look at me. please?” you shake your head, sniffling into his collar before he takes the matter into his own hands, tipping your chin to look at him.

you attempt to refuse, but he leaves you no chance to be let off.

“doll.”

“hnn.. stop,” you writhe in his grip, just the very least bit annoyed that he wouldn’t let you cry in peace.

“i promise, i’ll find you in every life time. anything i am, anywhere ill be, i promise. i’ll find you. okay? i’ll pinky promise you that.” he glances down before tugging your hand towards him, pressing 2 light kisses on your hand. one on the fingers of your clenched fist, finger prodding against the tight clench before pressing another kiss onto your palm.

“i pinky promise doll. i’ll love you beyond death doing us part.”

he smiles, watching your expression turn lighter than before, sniffles turning quiet before pointing out a weak pinky towards him.

“i promise— pinky promise, i-i’ll love you beyond death doing us part, toji.”

“mhm.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss onto his fingertip, and watching you do the same.

“toji, i love you.” a dumb fat smile grows across his face, and before you know it, he’s smothering your damped face with gentle kisses. “t-toji stop !” and he sighs with relief when he hears you giggle, finally stopping as he trails down your neck to hide into the short crevice of your collarbone.

“i’ll love you more than you’ll ever know, doll.”

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, hun! I love that you're requests are open!

Could I please request a fic where Eddie gets cold feet in a relationship with reader, or an old hook up comes along and he doesn't want to be exclusive, so she leaves and he doesn't think more of it until he hears, maybe a year later or so that she's gotten married and he's feeling the bitterness and sad over how he let something so good go?

Usually I love a happy ending but not in this case. Please and thank you!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Runaway Bride

"Do you ever think about getting married?" Y/N asked, her legs tangled with Eddie's under his sheet. Her finger traced shapes on his naked chest.

"Not really, I've always been scared of it, you know?" he answered. His hand rubbed up and down her back. "Do you?"

"All the time. I've been thinking about my wedding since I was young. The perfect dress and the perfect groom," she smiled. She turned her head to look at him, "Would you ever marry me?"

He smiled at the thought, picturing her in white as she walked towards him. Something about it made his stomach flutter. "Yeah, I'd marry you," he said. He beamed at the smile that took over her face.

"One day," she whispered before she placed her lips on his.

That was a year ago, and Y/N still held onto his words. Their relationship was still going strong and she fell in love harder every second.

"How was your day?" Eddie asked, his arms wrapped around her waist as she cleaned the dishes.

"It was good, I looked at flowers for the venue today," she smiled. Eddie kissed her shoulder, and his eye caught the diamond ring on her finger.

"Yeah? Did you pick a favorite?" he asked.

"I did, I have the examples in the bedroom," she said. She dried off her hands and turned around in his arms. She happily accepted the kiss he planted on her lips. "How's the shop?"

"Broken cars, same old. I'm a little more interested in something else right now," he smirked. She eyed his smirk, not surprised to feel his hands move down to her ass.

"What's that?" she edged on, her lips moving to his neck. His chest rumbled as a groan left his throat.

"Making love to my finacé," he said, his fingers dug into her sides. She laughed as he trapped her against the counter and tickled her sides. He scooped her up and raced to their bedroom as she laughed and screamed.

~~~

The closer the wedding got, the colder Eddie's feet became. He loved Y/N, but there was something in his gut whenever he remembered he'd be married to her forever. The thought was supposed to bring him comfort and excitement.

With the thoughts heavy on his mind and a twist in his gut, he got drunk at a sleazy bar. He wasn't sure how many shots he had, or how many times Y/N called. He kept going until he felt numb.

"Eddie?"

Eddie turned his head to see who called him, he shook his head as he could feel the room beginning to spin. He eyed the girl, a confused look on his face as he wondered how she knew him.

"Taylor, remember?" she giggled. The name rang a bell, and he looked her up and down. It took a few seconds but then it all clicked.

"Taylor!" Eddie smiled, his voice louder than he intended. He stood up, slightly stumbling over as the alcohol took its effect. She pulled him into a warm hug, and Eddie crushed her in his arms. Not realizing how badly he needed a hug.

Taylor sat and shared a few drinks with Eddie, listening to his rant about his fear of getting married. He was plastered, he forgot everything he said once it left his mouth and he knew the hangover was going to be brutal.

Eddie wasn't sure who asked or how it happened, but he moaned as he pushed himself inside of her. Her bed hit the wall as Eddie trusted inside of her. He shivered at the feeling of pleasure, for once the tightness in his stomach was a good thing.

~

The hangover was just as horrible as he thought. His head pounded as he rolled out of the unfamiliar bed. He slipped on his smelly clothes and left the house in a hurry.

Y/N was up all night terrified of why Eddie never came home. She figured his phone died after all the calls she left. She sat at the kitchen table, calling all their friends about Eddie's whereabouts when the man himself walked through the door.

"Jesus, Eddie! I've been worried sick!" She exclaimed, she jumped out of her chair and pulled him into a hug. She cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his clothes and the smoke in his hair.

"Where have you been? Sleeping at a bar?" she asked pulling away, she looked him over. Worry in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state.

"I need a second," he said through his clenched teeth. His head was pounding so bad that he could barely stand. She helped him sit on the couch, running to grab him water.

"Do you need medicine?" She asked as she handed him the cup. She figured with the bar smell he had to be hungover, quickly grabbing aspirin from the bathroom.

He was groaning in pain, hunched over when she returned. She helped him take the medicine, sitting beside him.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" She asked, she had never seen Eddie in such a painful sight.

"No, I just need to sleep," he said in a whisper. She helped move him to the bedroom and planted him on the bed. Eddie felt the guilt eating him alive as she took care of him. She stripped off his clothes, changing him into something comfortable.

~

He woke up to the slam of a door. He thanked God that he could open his eyes. The pain in his head was gone, but the guilt settled in his stomach stayed.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N standing there, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, quickly getting out from the sheets, and standing on his knees to hold her face.

"Who's Taylor?"

Eddie felt his body run cold. His mouth was dry as he licked his lips.

"Just a girl I knew back in the day. Why?" He nervously asked. It was clear he was caught, and he had no idea what to do.

"I found her number in your jeans," Y/N said, her voice nowhere as strong as it usually was. Eddie gulped as she handed him the small piece of paper.

"Why are you going through my jeans?" He was caught and all he knew to do was get defensive.

She scoffed and pushed her hands off of him. He caught himself as he balanced on the bed.

"That's your question?" She asked, her tears running down her face but her eyes were pissed. "I was being a good fiance and doing your damn laundry! So answer my question, why the fuck do you have a girl's number in your jeans?"

"I ran into her at the bar!" Eddie answered, standing up on his feet. "We talked and I didn't even know she slipped it in my jeans."

"You ran into her at a bar and came home the next morning," Y/N thought out loud. Eddie gulped as she began to pace. "No bullshit, just tell me, did you sleep with her?"

Eddie saw the anger vanish in her eyes, somehow her eyes turned blue as she began to cry. Eddie nodded, looking down at his feet.

"You son of a bitch!" She cried, Eddie looked up as he felt her hands beating at his chest. He tried to grab her hands but she was hitting him and crying hysterically. She began to sob, arms getting weak.

"I know! I know! Just breathe," he tried but she shoved him away.

"Don't tell me to breathe!" She snapped, "I can't believe you. Our wedding is barely a month away and you fucking cheat on me? Why? What could she possibly offer that I don't?"

"I panicked!" Eddie confessed, "I've been terrified for this wedding and I needed to cool off. So I went to the bar and got drunk. I barely knew what was happening, all I knew was that I didn't feel scared anymore."

"You're going to say you cheated on me because you got cold feet? WHY PROPOSE IF YOU ARE SO DAMN SCARED!"

"I thought it was what I wanted!" He cried, his sad eyes taking in her crying state. "I thought you were the one I wanted. But when I thought about being married, the commitment, and the kids. It all got too much."

"You don't want me anymore?" She cracked out

Eddie flinched at the cracks in her voice, her sobs turning into hiccups. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Fuck you, Munson," she spat. She took a few deep breaths to collect herself. "I would like you to leave for 2 hours, so I can pack and leave. I don't want to see you. I don't want you to call me. And don't ever think of finding me."

He took the time to soak her in. The pressure on his body was gone, but at what cost? Breaking the heart of the only girl that loves him in and out?

"Please?" She whimpered as she turned around.

"Take your time," he said. He walked over to her, craving to touch her one last time. But when his hand made contact with her skin she was fast to run into the bathroom and slammed the door.

~~~

~Three years later~

"Can I grab a drink from the fridge?" Eddie asked, standing up. He was over at Steve and Robin's apartment, hanging out with them and Dustin.

"Yeah go right ahead," Robin said, her attention on the TV.

Eddie walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge he noticed a photo of the fridge. He stood up straight, yanking the picture down from its magnet. He felt this heaviness on his chest as he looked it over. It was Y/N, she looked beautiful.

He hadn't thought much about her since the day he came home and she was gone. Not a trace of her anywhere. He respected her wishes, he didn't try to find her and he never asked about her. He forgot they shared the same friends, and he felt a little hurt they kept in touch with her.

She wasn't alone in the picture; a man was behind her with his arms wrapped around her. The smile on her face was angelic; she was beaming with happiness. A big rock was on her finger, one completely different from the one he gave her. It was prettier and shiner, and it looked far more expensive.

"Save the date" was written across the bottom in a fancy font. He knew she'd move on and settle down, but he didn't think about how painful it would feel to see it happen—to see her in another man's arms.

"Yo what's taking so long?" Steve laughed as he walked in, freezing when Eddie turned holding the photo. Eddie blinked his eyes, hoping to ignore the water building in them.

"Shit, Robin was supposed to hide that," Steve said, snatching the photo out of his hand.

"It's alright. You shouldn't have to think about that," Eddie shrugged, "it's been three years, surprised it took this long to run into her somewhere." He let out a sad chuckle.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, a worried look in his eyes.

Eddie nodded. He truly wasn't. He spent so much time pushing their memories away that he forgot what it felt like to love her. And now it all came back, and he loved a girl who was getting married, and this time not to him.

"She looks happy," Eddie painfully smiled. Steve watched as Eddie wiped away a tear, he acted like he didn't see it. "Is he good to her?" His voice wavered slightly.

"Yeah, man. She's happy and taken care of," Steve nodded. A pitiful look in his eyes that made Eddie want to vomit.

"I think I need some air," Eddie said as he escaped. Steve sighed as the door slammed shut, putting the photo back on the fridge.

Eddie pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking as he flicked the lighter. For three years he felt nothing. For three years he could sleep perfectly without thinking about her. He was still in the same house, easy as ever since she took everything that had a trace of her.

But now she ran through his head. The memories, the love, and the happiness. The glow she had when she walked into a room. If he didn't fuck it up, they would have married right now. He wonders if they'd have a kid running around and if they'd move into a bigger house.

As he inhaled the cigarette, he thought about the future he could have had. Even if it wasn't with him, he was happy she got her happy ending.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[luveline]

Jade Ik it's a bit past due but I would love a hotch and sunshine reader Valentine's fic!! I miss that trope

You can barely see Morgan to ask over your hamper, “Is he in his office, do you know?” 

“Hi, mama. Somebody’s going all out today.” 

You beam at him, nudging the flowers aside to see him in all his handsomeness. “You know me, Morgan. I love him.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “He’s where he always is. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” 

You wish Morgan a loving Happy Valentine’s and begin the treacherous journey up the steps to Aaron’s office. You used to be so scared coming up here, worried he’d reject you, chastise you for something, but somehow he never has. Now you ascend them with a smile and make your blind way to his office door and knock the window pane gently. 

“Come in, please,” he says. 

You smile like an idiot at the mere sound of his voice. The hamper and bouquet you carry shuffle in your arms, desperate to be dropped, but you make it soundly to his text before you lose your grip. “Oh, shit,” you swear under your breath, grabbing the flowers as their petals grace the surface of his cup of coffee. “Sorry.” 

You can’t know how Aaron feels about you —he’s told you a succinct explanation of his feelings as people tend to do, affectionate, tender I love yous that don’t cover the half of it— but he’ll tell you later about this moment. You in his office with your lovely smile and how it cleaves him apart just looking at you. The hint of nerves, the tentative anticipation about you as you pull the card from a basket full of chocolates and red packaging to hand to him across his files. 

“Honey, come here,” he says, the knife of you urgent, unignorable. He takes the card and catches your hand, encouraging you around the desk. “Come here.” 

He changes his mind and stands. Your eyes widen ever so slightly as he holds your hands between your two bodies and leans down for a peck. “You’re not supposed to be here yet,” he says, “you'll have to wait a minute for your flowers.” 

You laugh excitedly. “You got me flowers?” you ask. 

“Mm,” he says, squeezing your fingers, “but they were supposed to arrive at lunch, with lunch.” He brings his hand to your face and strokes your skin back from the apple of your cheek to your ear with the side of his hand, pleased goosebumps erupting down your arms at the touch. “Is all of that for me?” 

“Treats for you,” you say. You both know he knows the feeling flooding your senses now. You’re intensely easy to please. Any amount of affection could melt you, but you especially love being touched by him like you’re going to break if he’s not careful. You’re flustering the longer he strokes your face, his thumb drawing hearts at the soft skin beside your ear. 

“And the lump in your pocket?” he asks. 

Your mouth makes an ‘o’. “That’s for you too, of course. But I figured I’d give it to you during dinner.” 

“Whenever you want. You can have yours at the same time.” 

Your eyes glow like diamonds, and that’s fitting. He’s sure you’ll always shine brighter than any gift he gives you, but he’s really tried it this time. 

You needle your arms behind his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome.” 

He leans down to hug you, arms crossing behind your back. He’s tempted to keep you forever like this, chests  together, stepping on the toes of each other's shoes, but you’ve got better things to do, he’s sure. You laugh softly in the well of his neck and press a kiss to his jaw before you pull away. 

“I can’t believe how pretty you are,” he says without thinking. 

You look like you could burst. “Oh, I love Valentine’s. They should have one of these every month.” 

Your breath escapes the corners of your lips in a breath that’s nearly a squeal when a knock sounds at the door. Hotch answers and takes care of the tip as he accepts your dinner for the afternoon and then, moments later, the intrinsic bouquet of your favourite flowers. He’d meant for you to be sitting when they arrived, but it barely matters. You’re so excited you linger by his side and make a face that he believes to be the holding of a silent scream as the delivery men leave. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” he says, closing the door with his ankle expertly. 

You crush the bouquet between you, grappling for a kiss he’s eager to give. 

[simpjaes]

☆ WIP DIARY ── ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS (p.sh)☆

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club.

⨯ vampyre park sunghoon x afab reader  

⨯ minors dni

⨯ TAGS ― tags are subject to change as i write this fic. modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire tropes i use are the acts of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, the act of breaking for a very sexy walking dead guy

⨯ SIDE CHARACTERS: jungwon as your art friend who has an installation at the museum (and also gets tangled in the mess of you and sunghoon), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club

⨯ !WARNINGS! ― warnings are subject to change as I write this. dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death/dying/killing, acts of mind control/luring, actual dying but not really

⨯ PLAYLIST ―  ONE OF THE GIRLS - THE WEEKEND―DIAMOND DIEZ - UNITYTX

⨯ NOTE: im pausing my other wip for jay because i have been overcome with writing bloody sunghoon. i am not sorry about it and you're more than welcome to join me for this very dark ride ໒꒰ྀི ´͈ ᵕ  `͈ ꒱ྀི১

!!READ PART ONE HERE!! !!READ PART TWO HERE!!

⨯ tagging: CLOSED.

⨯ t/l: @heerinnie @jswizzledizzle @heesky @purchasingpleasures @yeonzzzn @k0npeitocandy @deobitifull @alvojake @luvyev @fullbodyblankets @zeeloveshee @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @missoxy @iheartjayke @defnotfertilizedtoesw @whos-viviann @skzenhalove @jakehooni @millieinyourarea @parksunghoonsgf @kwannie1601 @jjongsaengwife @purrplegyuu @starggukies @jjklvr9 @gobighee @notevenheretbh1 @oddracha @addictedtohobi @nxzz-skz @belowbun @capri-cuntz @sacrificeatmeup @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jennifestival @ninoshome1 @jaeyunluvr

[novthewolf]

Hello how are you? You’re Edward Cullen fic was amazing!!!!! Could you please write another one?

Edward Cullen confessing his secret to you :

*-*-*

- Edward had never been so scared in all his life.

- Watching your bright beckoning him to join you in among the mountain flowers would normally make him melt.

- It was almost enough to push him down on his knees and thanks the universe for allowing him to be share the same air as you.

- So he dared challenge the Heavens up above and took his defiled being to the angel roaming on earth.

- As the sun gently grazed Edward's skin, your eyes shimmered in the reflect of the brightness of the man's diamond-like epidermis. But despite how beautiful he might look, nothing would ever compare to your beauty.

- He heard your soft gasp, the same one you let out when he offered your favorite childhood book or when his speed saved you from slipping on thick ice.

- Mostly shock, but he felt so unsure if it was the simular happiness or the same fear.

- Brows furrowered in worry and care, he took a small step forward.

- You barely tensed up, but of course, he felt that and froze on the spot.

- "Y/N... I'm not going to hurt you.." Edward assured softly, but the skin revealing his vampire self caused his fangs to slightly show.

- Your eyes darted to his fangs, lips slightly parting before looking back up at his eyes.

- His heart missed another beat, as always, as your eyes met his. Damn it did he love your eyes...

- But this way... it was like someone was holding a sword just above his neck. Yet the thought of losing you was even more painful.

- Yet, he couldn't bear to read your thouhghts, filled with dread at the idea of hearing you growing terrified of him.

- Instead you slowly reached in your bag, causing his eyes to squint slightly in confusion.

- What are you doing..? Are this scared of him that you would try something against him ?

- It hurt him visceraly, more than anything you might ever do to him.

- He took a step back, his shoulders slacking in defeat, not trying to reach out anymore.

- But then, you took out a book, 'quileute legends', and stopped him in his tracks.

- "I mh... I kinda knew..." You waved the book with sheepish chuckle, struggling to keep eye contact.

- He stared at you, for once at complete loss of words. You knew ? But how...

- Then Edward remembered the first trait that drew him to you. Your curiosity. Of course he considered being dangerous for his secret but the way you just react... It gave him hope.

- "The cold ones are mh.. vampire right...? I noticed your cold skin, your speed and changing eyes. So... I tried to solve this by reading, you know me.." You chuckled with a sheepish smile.

- The way the words left your mouth heated up his beatless heart. You were just too sweet.

- Edward looked at you like he laid eyes for the first time. And this time, without the feeling of being an monstruous creature.

- "Yes.. I am.." He whispered, voice gentle and walked toward you, into the small clearing.

- "Is that why you stayed away from me at first ?" You took a few steps toward him too.

- "I was afraid that what I felt for you was simply bloodlust but.. then I got to know you and..." Edward smiled almost shyly, and his eyes darted away. "I discovered what an amazing person you are."

- That's sweet blush on your cheeks was enough motivation for him to keep complementing you forever.

- "Then.. why did you never tell me..? You trust me right ?"

- More than anything. He wanted to lay this information so softly onto your heart.

- "I just didn't want to lose you." He whispered, looking down at you with almost pleading eyes.

- Losing you would be the greatest tragedy of his life and the last thing he would be able to bear.

- Whether because of the Volturies, nomads or your own fear.. each end would be devastating.

- Then, ever so softly, he felt your warm fingers wrapped around his larger palm.

- His eyes turned goldens and he swore he never felt this relieved by someone else's presence.

- "You won't lose me... as long as you don’t drink my blood." I chuckled, tiny bit nervous but playful.

- Edward scoffed out a chuckle and squeezed your hand gently.

- "No... I'm afraid I won't, darling..." Edward grinned and leaned in to whisper in your ear. "But something far more dangerous."

- He drink in the way you shivered, but so thankful when your expression didn't show any fear, but rather bashfulness.

- "Don't say it like that..!" You chuckled, slapping his stone like chest and hummed in surprise. "Are you a statue or something ?"

- He laughed with you and grinned. "No, just hellacious." He winked, feeling himself relaxing just by being playful with you.

- "Nice word, bit presumptuous, don't you think ?" You tease with a grin.

- "I'll show, dear." He chuckled before softening looking down at your joined hands and whispered, vulnerability shining through.

- "If you want to.."

- And the smile you gave him was enough reassurance as it was.

- "I'd love to." You nodded softly.

- That's when Edward swore on his immortal life he'd keep you safe and happy, to make sure your smile is engraved in his soul.

*-*-*-*

Check out my Tipee page and get exclusive content ! ;)

*-*-*-*

[msnihilist]

What Does Murowa see in Ben?

Or should I say what does she want to see in him?

What, you mean, like, romantically?

Nothing. Murowa isn't interested in Ben in a romantic sense. He's too young for her to have an intellectual connection with him. (In human years, she's about in her late thirties, but that's eighty years for a Nemuima. She's lived a while.)

Being a sadist, Murowa does have something of a sexual interest in Ben — mostly characterized by the extreme ways in which she wants to hurt him.

But that's not so much about Ben himself as it is what he represents — power and authority.

[yan-lorkai]

Since I absolutely adored your fic on escaping Idia, could you by chance do something with a reader that broke up with him only to find out she was pregnant later? Honestly, I just want the drama of the reader raising this child alone and Idia finding out down that his ex had a kid.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I took this request and ran with it, I hope you like the drama! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, mention of stalking and controlling tendencies, threats, poison mention, afab!reader but no pronouns used.

"You robbed me from being her father." Idia didn't sound angry. But there was a bitter taste that lingered on his tongue when he looked at you, the love of his life from when he was just a teenager and your child, sleepy on his arms, same blue hair shining under the dim lights. "I may not like it, but I understand why you did it. I'm so sorry that you didn't feel like you could tell me though."

In any other world, you could feel yourself melting at the scene that was so domestic, so sweet. But right now, when you are coming home, tired and hungry and seeing Idia sitting on your favorite armchair while he held your daughter so dearly and carefully in his arms? A shaky gasp left you, your heart starting to beat loudly in your chest as you watched each and every moviment he made, conscious of every chuckle, of his chest raised, of his eyes that lost their soft gaze and we're hardened now.

You still remember how he used to treat you when both of you were younger, he was like a spider weaving his web full of possessiveness, his words twisted to make you feel like he was the only one who could understand, love and treat you like you deserved.

You were dumb and innocent but dumb and innocent people don't survive for long out there. And when you realized that something was wrong, you had to do what you had to do in order to survive and escape him.

For seven long years you survived. But you felt as if a threat of death was looming over you for as long as you were stared by your ex-boyfriend - he didn't reacted well when you broke up with him. Like always, Idia threw a tantrum, begged and cried and screamed for you to stay, holding onto your legs pathetically. Though now he was older and got a more mature beauty to him, his eyes, so yellow, they were like diamonds watching you.

Your eyes followed the way his fingers moved and toyed with your daughter's hair, a tiny smile on her little lips as she got even comfier in his arms.

This was what you used to imagine when you lay in bed awake, thinking about the what ifs. What if you stayed? What if Idia was just a normal, good and plain guy that didn't scared you? Would he love his child? He did thought he was cursed, fated forever to always watch over the underworld gates, he told you himself. There were so many uncertainties, so much toxicity that you just ran away from your problems and him.

And now your past returned to bite you back.

"You should have told me. We could have done this together." Even he sounds unsure at that, a bit contemplative and thoughtful as he ponders what could have been of his life if he knew earlier about your pregnancy.

Toothy grin growing on his lips as he noticed your disgusted stare, so happy he could still make you feel something - anything was better than your hate, after all. The tick tock was the only sound echoing for a long moment before the growing anger bubbles up on your chest, not believing a single syllable that left his mouth.

"You got to be kidding!" You count on your fingers the number of creepy things he did, feeling your whole body shaking. Either from anger or fear, you can't tell. But it surely amuses Idia, who's smiling wider now. "Stalking me, watching me through the cameras, threatening my friends, you even tapped my phone and used to read my messages like they were a magazine, Idia! A kid wouldn't grown up to be healthy and normal around a freak like you."

You pointed in his direction, your finger jabbing at his face.

The illusion of a family had to end before it even begin. It was his fault that everything turned out to be this way and even with seven whole years passing by, Idia still wasn't able to see this. He was helpless, beyond help.

"That's a funny way to see things, Yuu-shi." He giggled softly, making you wince, the sound so unfamiliar now, while he rearranged the covers to wrap around your child tightly, not wanting her to wake up. Not right now, at least. "From the way I see, you hid my child existence from me. And honestly, I bet it was so hard and tiring, wasn't it? You worked two jobs to raise her, after all."

Your child let out a sleepy giggle, mumbling something on her sleep about her mom and dad finally being reunited. Idia looked back at you, smugness irradiating from him in waves.

"The nerve you got, I can't!" In an instant you were before him. Your whole body fighting to suppress fear and disgust, fighting against whatever was trying paralyze you. You had to take your daughter. You had to take her from him. You had to protect her.

He hummed a little, taking your hand on his. His grip was gentle, reverent even but strong enough to let you know he could overpower you whenever he wanted. He was looking at you through his eyelashes.

And you didn't like how he was looking at you. Like you were a collectible that he wanted to bury on his closet, to hide to never be seen again. Like he knew something you don't.

Exactly how he used to look at you in the past.

"You don't deserve to hold her, you don't even deserve to be near her." You told him petulantly. She was nothing like him. She was kinder and radiant, a good girl. She wasn't a calculating monster like her father.

You took her in your arms and he let you do it, crossing one leg over the other as he threw his head back and laughed.

"You tell me that she wouldn't like me but did you know that she was happy to know who I was? Did you know that she confided in me that you were working so hard that she missed you greatly but didn't want to annoy you?" You rolled your eyes at his attempt at lying, unable to believe anything he said.

There were no signs nor change on your daughter's behavior that indicates that any of this was true. At least, that you think so. You knew her better than he did.

You glanced at him, his eyes still smug but there was a pleading glimmer inside them that almost begged you to believe him this time. Raising a child was difficult, even more when you were raising one alone and had to be there for them 24/07, available emotionally and physically for whatever your daughter needed.

Looking at her soft, round face, you felt a pang of guilty. Idia was telling the truth or he was just messing with your head again?

He's lying, you screamed in your head. Of course he is lying. Lying is far easier than admitting that he was downright toxic.

The memories of his lies and half-truths were still fresh in your mind even after all those years, making it difficult to discern the reality now. You had trouble trusting people even to these days because of him. But his words struck a chord inside of you.

What if it was true? Your little one was a little more skittish and silent around you the past few days. You didn't want to believe this possibility. You couldn't. You worked hard to always be there in every moment, to not let her realize how it was to not have a parent around.

Had you failed?

"Why should I believe you now?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "You did nothing but hurt me when we were together. I don't trust and I don't like how you are all cozy on my armchair, in fact, you are not welcomed here at all.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He obviously didn't want to talk about the past, it's not like he didn't know but in his twisted mind everything he had done to you was justified. Idia always do something with a purpose on mind.

"I know I've messed up before, more times than I can count. But this... this is different."

He gestured to your child, looking at her with a soft, fond gaze. You though didn't believed a second that he had a sudden change of heart just because of your child.

"It's true I didn't wanted a child because of my cursed blood and the fate that would await them. But when I hold her like this, nothing else seems to matter."

You scoffed at this, despising how sincere his voice was. "If you're telling the truth, why didn't she told me herself?"

"She was afraid, I guess. Afraid that you wouldn't understand or she didn't want to add to your stress. She thought she was doing the right thing." He exhaled slowly, the emotional turmoil inside him boiling over. Yet he forced himself to remain calm, to watch each and every step you make, every breathe you take.

Like a spider weaving its web.

His words hung in the air and you looked away, trying to sort through the conflicting emotions that surged within you. Trust had been broken before, boudaries ignored, there was no mending this. There was no salvaging the past, no matter how much he looked like a kicked puppy.

You held your daughter tighter. "Well, that was enlightening but I think you should go. Now."

Idia's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within them as he stood up and lazily stretched. "You're still trying to push me away?" He asked, voice low and cold. "I won't stop you, of course, I get that you're still afraid and all but are you sure you want me to leave? I walked right into your house. Didn't you even wondered how I entered? Or where the nanny you hired went? Or why our daughter didn't woke up yet?"

Desperation crept into your voice, a sudden realisition that perhaps he would do something foolish such as harming his own flesh and blood. "Idia, what... What do you mean by all that?"

He tilted his head slightly. hiding the curve of a smile with his hand, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. You could only wonder what kind of things he was thinking and you didn't like it not knowing what to expect. You stared at him, heart beating loudly as held your daughter closer to your chest.

He laughed, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "You're scared," It wasn't a question but an observation. His smile got bigger. "Good, you should be. You think you have a choice in this? Your daughter… she's already been exposed to a little something I concocted. A slow-acting poison."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at your daughter, now noticing that she was starting to tremble. "How could you do this?" You whispered, voice choked with emotion.

"Because I love you," Idia said, voice low and intense. Taking a step closer, he was staring you face to face now, warm breath over you. "And I won't let you go. Not now, not ever. We're meant to be together and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens."

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic and anger swirling within you. "Give her the antidote, Idia. Please; I'II do anything."

"Not yet," He shook his head slowly, a twisted smile on his lips. His tone was almost gentle and soothing. "You'll come with me first. Once we're safe and together, then she'll get the antidote. But if you try anything... if you try to leave or call for help, well..."

He let the threat hang in the air, the implications clear. Like a wreacking ball he destroyed everything you've worked for all these years. You hated it. And you hated how powerless you were right here, right now.

You felt a wave of despair wash over you, the weight of the situation crushing you. Your daughter's life hanging in the balance and there was no choice but to comply.

"Alright," Vou whispered, voice breaking. You looked at him with hatred and something more you couldn't name, too worried with your daughter's health. "I'll come with you. Just... please don't hurt her."

Idia's smile widened, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. "That's more like it," he said, reaching out to gently touch your daughter's cheek. "We'll be a perfect family, just like I always wanted."

With your heart heavy and your daughter's safety foremost in your mind, you followed Idia, knowing that you were stepping into a nightmare again.

But you could always escape... Right?

[39472034658449305249465224devils]

his heart is so much more beautiful than sigurds and it is a competition

i miss eltoshan

[strniohoeee]

ahhh you’re my favorite writer!! can you write something about dad!matt please!! maybe something about the whole family going to the cape

Warm Summers

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Fourth of July Weekend calls for fireworks, barbecues and most importantly family. Matt, Y/N and their twins take a trip to the Cape for the holiday weekend☀️

Warnings⚠️: None, this one was kinda cute. Might make more dad Matt fics in the future 😌 to the person that requested this thank you for the support I LOVE YOUUUU😭🖤

Song for Imagine: Tell Me I’m Dreaming- Los Yesterdays

The star make diamonds

Upon your face

The moon smiles down

From outer space

“And the Princess was so so sad because she thought her Prince didn’t want to be with her. He said he was afraid that he would hurt her” I said as I slid the sock on my daughters foot

“No! Mommy… the Princess needs her Prince” She said getting sad

“But then on a rainy cold night the Princess sat in her room, crying and holding her pillow close to her chest. Oh how she wished her Prince would come back” I said as I finished slipping her sneakers on, scooting over to put the socks and sneakers on her twin sister

“And then what?” She practically screeched

“Suddenly a soaking wet Prince ran up her castle stairs and bursted into her room. He fell to his knees crying with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Begging the Princess to take him back and saying how foolish he had been. He said he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her and to make her his Queen” I said watching as her and her sisters eyes lit up

“Did she take him back? Mommy please tell me she took him back” They both screeched as they clung onto their pink stuffed bunnies

“The Princess did! She got up and grabbed the Prince sooo tight and she kissed him” I replied

“Ewwww” they started scrunching their faces up as I laughed

“And they stood there hugging forever. And next thing you know they became King and Queen, they got married and had two twin girls” I replied as I smiled

“Twin girls? Like us!” They said as their eyes lit up

“Just like you both” I responded winking

“Mommy, is that a real story?” they asked

“Yes it is and your daddy was the stupid Prince who almost made the worst decision of his life” Matt suddenly spoke from the bedroom door frame

“DADDYYYYYY” they yelled as they jumped off their beds and into Matt’s embrace. Which caused me to smile

“Daddy you almost didn’t marry mommy? How could you? That’s so silly… she’s the best mama ever” Our daughter asked him

“I know daddy wasn’t so smart when he was younger. I’ll never forget that rainy night. You know that’s why your name is Lluvia. It’s Spanish for rainy season and you so happened to be born during a rainy season” Matt said kissing her on the forehead

“And what about me?” My other daughter asked him

“You’re Luna which is Latin for the moon, the night you both were born it happened to be a full moon and raining” I responded as I took Luna from Matt’s arm

“Mommy and Daddy are so cool” Lluvia squealed as she giggled

“We’re the coolest” I said winking at them

“Now who’s ready for that trip” Matt asked them as they started to jump around in our arms

“MEEEEE” they both yelled

We put them down and let them run down the stairs. Watching to make sure they got to the bottom we both let out a sigh.

Matt looked over at me and pulled me into a hug. Pulling back slightly I leaned in and planted a kiss to his lips.

“I can’t believe we’re 26 with a house and kids” I said reminiscing on our teenage years

Matt and I had been together since we were 18 and friends our whole life. It’s so crazy that this gross sticky boy I used to be neighbors with is the father of my kids and my husband….full circle moment

“Twins at that…. Want one more?” He asked me as he cocked an eyebrow

“With our luck I’d pop out another set of twins or even triplets” I said laughing as I grabbed the girls mini suitcases

“We’d have a herd of Sturniolos” he said giggling

“A herd is insanity, the girls are 4… so another one or two wouldn’t hurt” I said looking over at him

“Good thing we’re all going to be in separate rooms up in the Cod” he responded winking at me

“You are sickkk” I said smacking him playfully

Loading up the car we buckled the girls in. Matt and I’s family always went to Cape Cod during the summer months. It has been a tradition since before we were born. So naturally we thought now was the perfect time to start taking them.

Lucky for us Matt purchased a cabin out there near his parents and my parents so we’d be able to have family get togethers and always be around one another.

Given it was Fourth Of July weekend we thought it was perfect for a whole family get together.

Our hour and a half drive flew by as we spent most of it listening to Disney hits and stopping the girls from fighting with one another. They were just like Matt and his brothers.

We arrived after everyone and settled our stuff into our cabin. Taking the short walk over to his parents where everyone was at.

“Yooooo” Chris said as we walked out back to where everyone was sitting

“Hey guys” I said as I put the girls down

One ran to my mom and the other ran to Mary-Lou. As they hugged their grandparents I said hi to mine and my in laws.

“How was the ride out here?” Jimmy asked Matt

“Not too bad for holiday weekend to be honest” he said opening up the cooler and getting a juice pouch out for each of the girls

“Y/N how are you? Matt driving you crazy?” Justin asked me

“I’m good and honestly he’s been better” I said winking at Matt

Nick came over to play with the girls as I chatted with everyone.

“Okay but who’s the best uncle?” Chris asked Luna

“You both are” Luna said

“What? Not fair I’m better” he said crossing his arms over his chest

“I like Nick the best” Lluvia said as she hugged Nicks arm

“Only because he lets you do whatever you want” Chris said

“nuh uh” she said shaking her head

“Yuh huh” Chris said shaking his head

“He went from fighting with us like a child to fighting with our kids like a child” Matt said laughing

“You’re a meany uncle Chris” Lluvia said sticking her tongue out

“La La La La I can’t hear you” he said covering his ears and sticking his tongue out at her

“Will you quit being a child” Nick said smacking Chris

Giggling at them it was closer to dinner time. We all sat at the large table outside as we chatted.

The girls sat on my lap and Matt sat next to me. Turning our chairs towards each other Matt was feeding the girls while I ate.

Cutting up their hotdogs into bite size pieces he fed them as I held on to them. Wiping their mouth and giving them a sip of their waters

“Babe do you want the rest of my burger”I asked Matt

“Yeah, leave it there I’ll finish it” He said nodding his head

“All done” Matt said in his baby voice as the girls finished eating

“Grandma” Luna said as she began to slide out my arms

“You want to go with grandma” Matt asked her

She nodded her head and rubbed her eyes, anytime Mary Lou was around Luna had to lay on her and fall asleep. Lluvia reached out to my dad and so I gave her to him. Somehow within 10 minutes she landed in Justin’s arms and was dozing off.

Matt sat down and began to eat, standing up I headed over to the cooler and grabbed him a root beer. Opening it up for him I placed it next to his plate.

“Thank you baby” he responded winking at me

“You’re welcome, thank you for feeding them and letting me eat” I said blowing him a kiss

“Always my love” he said taking a sip of his soda

“It’s so funny to me watching you all grow up together. Sitting here at this table since birth and now two of our babies are married with babies” My mom said

“It’s so interesting to watch. I for sure thought Y/N hated all of them. I never imagined Matt and her to end up together” Justin said giggling

“I always thought yall had cooties and that’s why I never liked hanging out with you guys till we got older. I never thought Matt and I would need up together it’s so funny” I responded

“You guys just work so well together, I love you guys” Chris said reaching over and hugging Matt

Laughing at this we all finished our dinner. Having dessert with coffee as we watched the fireworks. The girls enjoy all the pretty colors.

We laid in the grass with the girls as we watched the fireworks. Reminiscing about our past.

We spent the rest of the weekend there jumping between houses for hangouts. And even getting alone time with Matt’s brothers as our parents took the kids. It was beautiful and peaceful, and I loved Matt and the girls with all my heart…

The End

Idk how I feel about this, but I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Can't wait to post more akekekek. Love yall dearly I’m almost at 2,640 followers which is insanity to me. Thank you sooo much🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[suikamelon6]

Loustat reunion fanart "Conversation" and the list of all post E15 Loustat reunion fics.

Because I have OCD and I need to collect them all in one place.

I would love to go back to the old house by concretebrunette

the comfort of your arms by verlec

it takes an ocean not to break by slightlysmilingface

Sleep like the Dead by iwtv

Nearer My Heart, To Thee by JustCallMeWinschester

And the Knowing is Sweet, Too by shavir_light

My Own Companion by seeyouintime

braving the sun by vulcanscully

With Open Arms by magicbubblepipe

Wind Whirls Back by Are

Like Coming Home by TardisRose

the landscape after cruelty by kurstiel

j’veux pas mourir toute seule by WeeBeastie

mystified by how this city screams your name by akosmia

It always ends in a hazy shower scene by casperintheattic

Enduring in B Minor by foreignemotion

It will always just be me by TheGoldenDice

You and I both know by thelamphouse

Threads by lesfleursrouges

Seventy-Seven years by lesfleursrouges

Say that you’ll hold me forever by femininomena

you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl by peacefrog

After the Storm by CarmillaMurray

Haunted by CarmillaMurray

The moon welcomed him with open arms the Storm by Ikharys

your love’s a banquet for me to feed on by CallMeVampy

Bring Me Home/I Never Thought I'd See the Day by tm1205

A Conversation of Consequence by writerformanymuses

Furnace by spockswife

Lilac Wine is Sweet and Heady by carftnarok

All I Have to Do is Dream by Anonymous

These Ghosts Among Us by LokiNeedsHugs1031

hire a gardener for my grave by elke (weidli)

one deep breath out from the sky by samyaa

You and I Will Always be Connected by Humansunshine

hyperspectral by chinxe

Shall Gentle His Condition by sheafrotherdon

The Eye of the Storm by cottagecorelore

Allegro, for Piano by sheafrotherdon

we'll be diamond when the golden days are done by rickybobby

MULTICHAPTERS

Beginning Where I End by transarchangel

Pearl Diver by ohalicent

ancient wounds by lestattvl

We own the night by moderndaylestat

only wanna move when you move by itmeanslife

Strange, Euphoric Melancholy by miraculan

in the whisper of a hurricane by certainlyjim

The whirling wind hurls debris, little weapons, settling like splinters under our skin by Nalyra

just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it by TardisRos

COMIC

After Odette by DPeartree

Please reblog or/and reply if you wrote one or found one I haven't mentioned and I'll add it in ^_^

Thank you for adding so many to the list, @squirrellypoo

[fashionteahouse]

hiii could you do paul x reader

soooo reader is bella's older sister and paul is imprinted on her

Reader knows about bella decision of turned into vampire after her graduation and reader get into a bad depression and her mental ill went too bad cuz she loves her sister too much and doesn't want her to be a monster

and paul with the other pack trying to help her to be better

btw i'm gonna call myself 🥑anon so you can recognise mee😘😘😘

Thank you for your hard work you always do the bestt fics 💖💖💖💖

I've requested alot before and you always ATEEEE thaatt

heyy 🥑anon 💜 thanks so much for supporting my fics so this really means a whole lot !! hope you enjoy :)

my sister says the saddest things - paul x reader

A hand was splayed out, watching the light of the diamonds bounce around in the room. A smile was thrown your way as you watched your little sister admire her ring.

A tight smile was all you could give her. The ring surely was beautiful. However, it didn’t stop you from furrowing your eyebrows. You move your laptop out of the way as you sit up straighter.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea of marriage?” you question her.

She shrugs as she continues to stare at it, “We had to compromise.” she answers quietly.

“What?” you ask, wanting to know what it was, opening your ears so the words from her mouth could be clear.

“He…If I marry him, he’ll change me.” she rushes out but not meeting your gaze.

Standing up slowly, “What?” you knew your sister was smarter than this.

“Why?” you ask, not angrily but in a disappointed tone.

“We will be with each other forever. I don’t want to grow old and Edward still looks the same.” she tells you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You look elsewhere as you pace a bit. Bella blows out a breath, as you ask quietly, “So..He’s going to do it exactly when?”

“After graduation.”

“Bella you’ve got to be kidding me.” you say to her as she looks down, “Are you serious?” you ask her again.

“I will still be me. It’s not like I’m going to change and become a different person.” She says to plead her case.

“Yes you will. You will be a cold one. A monster.” you say to her, gritting a bit.

“I will not! You don’t have to use those words.”

“What other words can I call that? Seriously. Sure, you’ll live forever but the moment that venom enters your blood stream I will lose you forever. What about mom? What about dad?” you say and continue to pace.

“I will still keep in contact. That’s why you don’t have to worry.” she says, not even thinking about changing her mind.

“You’re altering your life for some boy. A boy who isn’t even a boy but 119 years old! Come on, think!” you tell her, trying to keep your voice from pitching since Charlie was only downstairs in the living room.

“He’s not some boy and you know that. He’s my soulmate just like Paul is yours.” she says, taking a bit of offense.

“I don’t know. Soulmates don’t dump you in the middle of the woods. Soulmates don’t leave you for months on end and claim it’s to ‘protect you’ ” you say as you form quotation marks with your fingers.

Bella stands and narrows her eyes at you, “Wow.” she says and just leaves out of your room, not bothering to close the door back. You move to the door and push to slam it. A frustrated sigh moves past your lips as tears start to prickle.

Being a vampire wasn’t normal. Sure being a shapeshifter wasn’t exactly normal either but at least they still had a heart beat that thumps. They didn’t have to die to transform.

There was still months of school left. You were in your freshman year of community college while she was still in her last year of high school. It made you sad that you didn’t want the school year to end. You hoped and prayed that it would drag on just so you could still be around your living and breathing sister.

At breakfast, things were a bit tense. You kept staring at her and Bella kept staring at you. Charlie noticed as he set his coffee cup down and clears his throat.

“You girls alright?” he asked.

Bella doesn’t say anything but you broke the silence by getting up, “See you dad, I’m going to be late.” you tell him and push in your chair.

You didn’t bother to say goodbye to Bella, at that moment, goodbye meant forever.

You didn’t have a lot of classes this day, but after them, you camped out on the campus library. Deciding to do your homework there instead of home like you always do. You received a text from your little sister.

“Not hanging out with Edward today. Dad is working a double today. Want to just grab something ?”

“I’m okay. I’m going to study instead”

You finish typing back.

Any other time she hung with Edward after school, but you knew she wanted to make things right. You didn’t know how she could even let such thought cross her mind. You felt a dark cloud over yourself, loom as you tried to focus on your work.

Your shoulders were slumped as you listened to Paul’s voice on the phone later that night. His words didn’t process through your brain as your brain was already stuffed on how life would like for you and your sister in the future.

The sister who was cooped up in her room, knowing Edward snuck in through the window.

“Hello?” you hear Paul say into the line.

“Yes?” you say snapping out of your thoughts.

“Did you hear what I said?” Paul asks you.

He didn’t give you any hints as you say, “Um…you were talking about….I don’t know.” You finally say, defeated to give an answer.

“What were you doing?” He asks.

You rub your tired eyes, “Was just thinking about something. Sorry. Can you repeat what you said?”

“Emily’s. Are you coming tomorrow?” he asked again.

The brain inside of your noggin was flashing a trailer of feelings of how you would feel around a gathering of people. You just didn’t have it in you.

“No. I’m uh…I have a lot of work to do.” you tell him.

“You just told me you did your homework.” he plainly says, catching you red handed in a lie.

“Well, I will have homework tomorrow.” you say in a cruelty tone , taking your frustrations out on him and hang up.

Tossing the phone away from you on the other side of the bed, you put your head into your hands. You then scowl at your door.

You just kept thinking about how unfair it was for Edward to agree to do such a thing to Bella. It was like they both didn’t think or care about you or the family you and Bella came from.

You placed a pillow over your eyes, trying your best to wait for the day to pass.

The days passed slowly, your body losing the motivation to rise up out of bed. Missing classes, you just didn’t have it in you to care.

A soft but cautious knock was on your bedroom door. Your cheek was on your pillow. You didn’t have the energy to open your mouth to speak so you let the person behind your door to decipher which answer you would give.

Choosing the ‘come in’ option, your door slowly opens as you hear a meek voice speak, “Are you okay?”

You roll your eyes a bit as your head didn’t face the door. You continue to stare out of the window that faced the bed that you were currently in.

You felt a dip near your covered feet with a hand on your shoulder.

“I made you dinner.” Bella tells you.

You close your eyes and sigh, “I’m not hungry.”

The thought of food didn’t appeal to you. In fact, it made your stomach churn.

“You think people aren’t noticing but I do. You barely ate in days.” Bella calls out. You finally face her. She shakes her head as her eyes travel your face.

“And you look horrible. Whatever’s going on, we can talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you tell her listlessly.

“Yes, there is. You’ve been blowing the pack off too. I’m tired of lying for you.” she says.

Throwing the covers off of you, you sit up. “You don’t have to lie for me.”

“Well, you’ve been acting like this since I told you about…you know.” she says.

You cross your arms and glare at a spot on your bedroom wall past her head.

“Come on, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about the worst possible outcome but it will be okay. I promise.” she tried to smoothly say but your face contort into a sorrow look as your lips tremble.

Your hand flies to your face as tears roll down your cheeks. There’s a lot that could happen.

“Please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.” Bella says as she moves in to hug you.

“Bella just stop. You’re making things worse.” you tell her irritated, pushing her away.

“How?” she asks, feeling the unfairness.

“What do you mean how? You want me to be happy for you? Happy that you’re becoming the enemy.”

“There is no enemy. I will still be your sister. You know that the Cullens have a vegetarian diet so that’s what I will of course will fall into. It’s not like I’m going to be murdering people like the bad ones.”

“Two wings on the same bird, Bella.” you darkly say. You lay back down and turn away from her.

Bella sighs as she looks down. There was nothing else for her to say. However, she didn’t want to leave so soon. She felt it was important you two come to an understanding at least.

“Well, will you at least call Paul?” she asks. She waits for an answer but she doesn’t receive one.

You would, but your phone is dead. You didn’t feel like putting in the energy into charging it.

She sighs again and gives you the privacy that you wanted granted. You were glad that she finally left. The silent tears rolled down again, you didn’t have to worry about someone stopping you from crying.

You grudgingly walk out of your campus, with the goal being getting coffee at a nearby coffee shop.

You hear Paul’s voice as your hand was on the glass door. You turn and see his face, raking over you to see what to think about the sight in front of him.

“What’s going on?” he says, tugging you to him, away from the shop. He smushed your body to his. In a way you did feel a bit better, being around him and in his arms.

“Hm?” he asks as he noticed you haven’t said again.

You try to find the right words as he patiently waited. You sigh, before looking to him, “My sister says the saddest things.” you tell him choking up and this makes him pull you back to him again. You bury your face into his chest to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here if you want to talk.” He offers as you nod after a moment. He takes both thumbs to wipe your hot, salty tears away.

As you sip your hot beverage, Paul decides to speak after moments of processing all that you word vomited to him.

“If you tried talking to her and she’s still being set on it, it might just be out of your hands.” he carefully says. He hasn’t taken a drink of his own beverage. His arms were folded and his face was deep in thought.

”There’s no positivity about this. Why would she trade in her beautiful natural life for something so bleak and dangerous?”

Paul plays a bit with his cup as he looked not directly at you, but at a spot in front of you on the table.

“You have to look at it as, she’s 18. If that’s what she chooses, it’s her choice.” he says.

“I feel like I failed to protect her.”

“You did the best you could. I’m sure you did. But, it’s the life she chose. It’s out of your hands.” He says and you push your cup away.

You wrap your arms around your waist, your mind starts to think about having to accept the reality of your sister’s life.

He places a warm hand on yours, covering it completely before picking it up and keeping your hand in both of his hands.

“What would you do? If it was your sister I mean.” you ask him and he thinks for a moment.

“Of course I would be pissed off but… I would want her to be happy. It seems like Bella wouldn’t cut you out of your life.”

You hoped what he was saying was true. He looks at your hand that’s being covered by both of his, “You don’t have to shut me or the pack out you know?”

You nod, looking down.

“I’m sorry. I will make them something to extend my apologies.” You knew they went crazy for your baked treats.

Going home, you receive a call from Leah. You answer even though your phone was low on battery.

“You went AWOL. That’s so rude.” she says instead of a hello.

You tiredly laugh, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…” you look to the side and sigh in disparity. There wasn’t much words that could explain how you’re feeling.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh-“

“Exactly. Nothing. So, me and Kim will pick you up tomorrow okay?” Leah tells you and ends it with that.

As you cut the excess dough from a pie that you were making, Bella comes home. She placed her keys on the hook by the front door.

“It smells good.” Bella says grinning as she steps into the kitchen, where you were.

The lit oven showed two other pies that were currently baking. Bella was glad was that you weren’t rotting in bed. She stands next to your work station as she looks over what you have done so far.

“Do you need any help?” Bella asks.

“I got it.” you tell her.

“Are you still mad?” Bella asks you.

“No, I’m not mad.” your shoulders fall and a moment passes , “You won’t be able to eat this stuff soon.” you say in an emotional manner. The clatter of the scissors rattle on the countertop from your hands not being able to hold them anymore. She pulls you into a tight bear hug, Her forearm around the nape of your neck as she held you close.

“Please Bella. Just, please.” you pleaded through a fat sob.

Bella herself was getting emotional. Her big sister was someone she idolized and looked up to. She was very strong in her eyes and to see her break down, made her want to break down as well.

“Everything will be okay.” Bella whispers but you step out of the hug.

“Really? That’s all you can say?”

“I will be happy. I love him, sissy. If it was the other way around, I would want you to be selfish for your own happiness too. Look, ” she says before looking down, “He didn’t want to change me. I insisted him on doing so. He then told me to marry him. We’re both doing something we don’t want to do but we’re doing it because of the love we have for each other. This wasn’t some split second decision.”

You just stare at her, “Are you sure this isn’t about when you went to Italy?”

Silence fell into the air. Bella’s hand nervously run through her hair, “It’s only part of it. I have time but I want to do it after graduation.”

“So just wait then.” you say quietly pleading.

“Alice already had a vision I would be turned.” she whines, not wanting to reconsider her chosen time frame.

“Fuck, Bella. Forever is a long time. You mean to tell me you can’t wait for that little bit of time?”

“I will be older than Edward.” she counters back. Her eyes in horror at such thought.

“You never was like this about age.” you say shaking your head. You then move to the hot oven, covering your hands to take out two hot desserts.

“Are you going to La Push?” she asks.

“Yeah. Leah is picking me up.”

“I can take you. I want to see Jake anyways.” she offers.

“I want to go alone.” you snap to her.

Hurt was displayed on her face but she understood. Leaving you alone in the kitchen as you placed the last pie in the oven to bake.

“You don’t have to chew with your mouth open. It’s disgusting.” you tell Jared, trying to fight a smile.

“Maybe you should disappear more often. If this is an apology, I will accept every time.” he says.

Paul walks past, thumping him at the back of his head before sitting next to you. This brings out a snort that you tried to hide.

“What was that for?” Jared asks, rubbing his head.

“For opening your mouth.” Paul says and drinks his drink.

Leah then comes and pull you up and away from your spot from Paul. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and ask you in an intimate matter as you both move to where people weren’t hovering around.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I think I will be.” you say.

“Just don’t beat yourself up over it. You still have to live your own life too.”

You nod.

“We can’t kill them because of the treaty. You know this.”

You nod again.

“Plus, what did you realistically think was going to happen once she fell in love with one. She would want to fall into their lifestyle.”

“You don’t see me asking to be a shapeshifter.” you say, looking at Leah’s beautiful face. She displays her teeth as she laughs.

“It’s not possible.”

“Yeah, but if it was, I wouldn’t ask Paul to make me into one.”

This is Leah’s turn to nod. “We can’t really say unless we're really in that type of predicament.”

Embry walks past the corner you and Leah were occupying.

“Wow, cheating on Paul? That’s rich of you.” he says jokingly as he sees you two hugging each other tight.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Leah barks at him, making you bubble out a laugh.

Leah goes to shoo him away and you stay back and lean your back against the wall. You cross your arms and think. Hoping that your little sister will be happy, you couldn’t help but think about how you would grow old and would have to look at her youthful face for the rest of your limited life. Limited. There was no point in fighting or falling out with the only sister you had just because you disapproved her lifestyle choice.

Sighing, you realized that you still love your sister deeply. With your mind made up, you decided to make the most spending time with her before her human life comes to a halt. Just like you found your family, she found hers.

[chronically-ghosted]

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed 

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled. 

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder. 

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.” 

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.” 

Partner. 

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. 

And then he met you and the definition changed again. 

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why. 

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days. 

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions. 

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts. 

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed. 

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here. 

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all. 

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.” 

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime. 

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath. 

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee. 

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold. 

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.” 

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee. 

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets. 

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night. 

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids. 

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it. 

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since. 

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks. 

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair. 

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation. 

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay. 

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold. 

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love. 

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants. 

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare. 

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him. 

“Baby–,” 

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this 

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall. 

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer. 

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in. 

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut. 

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars. 

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day. 

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is. 

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head. 

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful. 

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you. 

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you. 

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees. 

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now. 

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it. 

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch. 

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart. 

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips. 

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs. 

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes. 

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it. 

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford. 

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair. 

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.” 

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole. 

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh. 

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty. 

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible. 

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean. 

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face. 

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine. 

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point. 

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now. 

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level. 

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls. 

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest. 

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table. 

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock. 

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?” 

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich. 

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.” 

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” 

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork. 

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist. 

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.  

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain. 

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.  

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.” 

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.” 

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it. 

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done. 

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.” 

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow. 

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy. 

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire. 

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust. 

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again. 

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm. 

“B-baby, please–,” 

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer. 

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.” 

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.” 

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. 

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name. 

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep. 

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again. 

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more. 

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst. 

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs. 

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet. 

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor. 

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull. 

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face. 

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.” 

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest. 

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.” 

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips. 

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all. 

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed. 

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you. 

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.” 

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach. 

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.” 

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?