#fucked up drawing ideas brewing up

[cosmicdenro]

getting a lot of evil-ish character arc ideas while valentines close wtf

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[fingerbiterfreak]

Oh my god I haven’t posted anything in over a year, let’s fix that

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Cursed Hours: You know what your boyfriend is? That’s right – horny. And, you know what, you are too. Jeon Jungkook is super mega ultra hot. (Facts.) But. Even you don’t fuck doing cursed hours. You try to delicately explain to your love that there are, in fact, suboptimal times to be asking for banging. (This conversation ends exactly in the way that everyone is predicting.) https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/727237944196333568/cursed-hours-m-jjk Touchin': Jeon Jungkook has got ten minutes and a hard dick. So he says. You learn you can’t trust everything he says though. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/721978268910272512/touchin-m-jjk Last Christmas: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/704515975314391040/last-christmas-m-jjk Not Allowed: The date of Jeon Jungkook’s mandatory military service is drawing close. There’s a heart-to-heart… following by fucking all three holes. What? That harsh training is easier to endure when Jungkook has nice memories of his girlfriend’s sweet, sweet ass. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/738121282845032448/not-allowed-xvii-m-jjk Sink: You left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why... https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/731946585290883072/sink-m-jjk Prisoners Of The Moon: Jungkook is the third and youngest prince to werewolf royalty. He is also a white wolf – the rarest of his kind – and a beacon of hope to his people when tensions are high in the forestlands. After decades of tyrannical werewolf reign, the forest spirits are desperate for change and his presence threatens the prospects of a new world order. So, as part of an age-old tradition, they gift you as a tribute of the fairies to the young prince in the hopes that you’ll be the key to a brewing revolution. Unbeknownst to you, you hold the key to so much more. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33945859 Devil In A New Suit: Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do. That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on. https://yeojaa.tumblr.com/post/632978831885598720/masterlist-devil-in Lost Stars: Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn't expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. https://www.tumblr.com/yoongiofmine/679078722079424512/lost-stars-series-masterlist?source=share Rebound: After being dumped by your boyfriend of three years, your best friends decide the best way to get over someone is getting under someone else. A dingy dive bar in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place to find a rebound. But what happens when you end up on the bed of a punk-rock lead singer who can’t seem to get enough of you? https://yoongiofmine.tumblr.com/post/687877308271443968/rebound-jjk-mini-series-masterlist

[railingsofsorrow]

I hate you, until I don't

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: three times you annoyed Spencer and three times Spencer annoyed you, proving the two of you cannot stand each other. . . until the one time that there was less annoyance and more sexual tension. 

pairing: s.reid x reader 

w.c: 3.6K

warnings/content: inaccurate medical procedures (don't come for me); language; flirting; enemies to lovers; case-related violence; suggestive content (no smut but I'm classifying this as +16).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Coffee] 

Smoke should be coming out of his ears by now, from the way his neck is pink and you're sure he's also got his jaw clenched by how his furiously he's writing on the board, connecting the leads.  

You've been fifteen minutes out of the room and Spencer has figure out the whole case.  

“Why are you so angry?” 

“I'm not angry.” 

You do not need to be a profiler to know he had that answer on the tip of his tongue, ready to give the excuse to someone who asked the inevitable question. Right, you're not gonna fall for that.  

“Um. Okay.” 

Spencer clicks the pen twice before you settle beside him, perching your hip against the table. His tongue travels across his lips slowly, he's trying to focus but can't.  

You don't know the reason. It could be a thousand things given that the local police you were working with have not been exactly welcoming to the FBI butting in on their case. Some cops acted hostile towards the team, but it was nothing you couldn't handle.  

By handling it you meant switching your focus to something better: Reid. You both draw limits to be around each other. It's nothing personal (maybe?) but you just don't get along as you do with the rest of the team. That doesn't mean you don't work well together in the field, no. In 80% of field work, you have Spencer by your side exchanging ideas to come up with good conclusions. The other 20% is the time apart you require to breathe away from each other.  

You don't hate him. If anyone hates Spencer Reid, they just might have to do a CT scan, that man doesn't have a single bad bone in his skinny body.  

You, however, have a field day while annoying him. Though you're not particularly close, you throw harmless jabs at one another once in a while.  

You are bored and Spencer is here, therefore... 

“I'm not angry.” His tone is final as he lets his eyes fall on you to look back to the board. The crease between his brows deepens. You tilt your head curiously. You don't really care about what got him mad, though it is an interesting fact to see him actually pissed about something. It's a rare image. “Not angry at all.” 

You kick his converse playfully, standing up fully. “I said okay, honey. You don't need to jump on my neck for it.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes, clicking the pen three times this time. You watch his fingers clenching and unclenching around the pen.  

“Don't call me honey.”  

Blinking up at him innocently, you turn around and say, “sure, honey. I'm gonna go and grab some coffee.” You raise your index finger before leaving the room, interrupting him mid-speech. “For me only, of course.” 

His mug was empty, you had seen as you walked into the room. He had dawned three of those already so of course you said that because you care about his health. Obviously. His scoff as you leave is the icing on the cake. 

By the time he finishes the geographic profile, he finds his mug magically refilled with freshly brewed coffee. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Ambulance]��

“If you had listened to me—” 

“Don't you even fucking start. I have a gash on my forehead. My arm is numb and my knee is throbbing. You really think is wise to come in here and tell me I told you so? Disappear from my sight, now.” 

Those words seem to go on deaf ears because he proceeds to crouch down to survey the damage on your face the paramedic is already assessing. His gaze barely falling on yours until it fixates on your head injury, amber eyes narrowing slightly as they usually did while he is concentrated and is about to sputter out some incredibly intelligent fact.  

He does exactly that.  

“She should have an X-ray of her neck. She's been flinching every time you're turning her head. And a CT scan, she was also hit in the head with a—” 

You groan, not sure if it is because of the stitches or just deep-rooted anger towards your coworker.  

“God— can you please...” You give a begging look to the paramedic, who seems to be having too much fun by the lifted corners of her mouth. 

“— blunt object. Actually, you should be kept for observation for the entire night. Two days if possible.” He glances up at you, who presses your eyes shut instead of glaring, uncomfortable with the way the paramedic touches the sensitive spot on your neck. When you open them again, he's offering her a look of victory. 

“Shut up, Reid.” 

“It's a good idea.” The woman says for your distaste. Of course it is. Of course you agree with him. 

“No, it isn't. I have a flight to catch to get back home and sleep on my comfortable bed, I do not need hospitals or needles or blood.” You intervene, mentally dreading to spend the night alone at a hospital in a city you have never visited. 

“Do you have space for one more?” He questions suddenly, eyeing the inside of the ambulance. Your eyes widen at the implications of his actions. Before you have the chance to smash his head against the floor, he has already climbed into the ambulance, sitting comfortably in a corner.  

You stare in disbelief. The paramedic isn't hiding her amusement anymore. she's outright laughing. 

“Him? Not coming,” you say with finality, aggressively climbing into the ambulance, limping, to lie down on the stretcher.  

However, he does come, rubbing in your face the whole way to the hospital about how right he was about the situation and that you shouldn't throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.  

Hypocrite, as if he didn't do the same thing. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Book] 

“Did you just skip to the end?” Spencer's voice laces with disbelief as he stares holes into the book between your fingers as if you have committed a heinous crime.  

You glance up from him and back to the book briefly. “No?” 

“You're an FBI Agent, you should know by now not to answer a question with a question.” 

“You're an FBI Agent with three PhDs, you should know by now how rude it is to interrupt one's reading.” You send the jab as quick as he had thrown his, rolling your eyes. 

“That doesn't apply if you're skipping to the end of the book—” 

You sigh, tired. “I have to see if the process is worth it.” 

“What?” Spencer shrieks out, switching his gaze from the book to you repeatedly. You press your lips shut, trying to suppress a smile. “What is that supposed to mean? You're supposed to enjoy and get surprised, not know everything—” 

“I'll forget about the end if I start reading it.” Which is true, if you read one part of the story without the context from the previous pages, then your mind just wipes it out as you come back to where you were. You had a bad memory of story plots. 

Spencer proceeds to get more offended by each word that comes out of your mouth. 

“No.” 

You let yourself chuckle this time. “What do you mean—hey!” You hiss as he yanks the book out of your hands, shutting it and hiding it behind him as some kid that's trying to hide his favorite toy so others won't find it. “Give it back, Spencer!” 

“You have to promise me to not read the end.” 

“I don't have to promise you anything.” 

“You want this back?” He waves the book in his hands. Your book. He threatens you with your book. 

You gape at him, then huff petulantly, crossing your arms like a toddler. To anyone who was watching, the both of you looked a lot like children bickering in the park. “Fine.” He offers you a skeptical gaze, narrowing his eyes with a slight scrunch of his nose and you can't help your reaction, really. Your lips twitch in a smile and you bite your cheek so hard it draws blood so you stop being stupid.  

He gives you your book back and pointedly studies your figure as you read, making sure you do not, in fact, skip to the end of the book. 

Spencer Reid is absolutely infuriating. No matter how cute he is. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Drunk Confession] 

“I would've gotten a divorce if you were my secret lover.” You tell Emily with a slurred speech caused by the seven shots and two margaritas — maybe three, you stopped counting at the fourth shot. The table erupts in laughter at your claim. “No doubt.” 

Emily smirks at you, leaning as close as she can across from you, Luke is watching the exchange as if on a tennis match. Garcia slaps his shoulder.  

“Every. Time.” JJ mumbles with a roll of her eyes, turning to Spencer who looks bored out of his mind. “Don't you get tired of seeing them flirting every time they get drunk? It's getting old.” 

Spencer shrugs, a scowl setting on his face as he glances at you and Emily. He looks away.  

“Just ask her out, for god's sake.”  

JJ almost spits her drink. “What?”  

Spencer rolls his eyes, “you. Emily. Date. Do it.” He doesn't really feel like repeating himself again. Spencer doesn't know why he's so annoyed all of a sudden. 

“Well, why don't you do it?” JJ snaps, narrowing her eyes at him, who blinks at her. “Yeah, ask her out instead of judging me like that.” 

“No offense, but I don't see Emily that way.” 

“Of course you don't and I'm not talking about Emily, Spencer,” JJ says pointedly. “You know I'm not.” 

It doesn't take long for all of you to call it a night. The sober ones, at least, because the rest could stay until the morning without complaining, driving themselves to an alcoholic coma. That would have been your case. Fortunately, it isn't.  

And now, Spencer is in charge of driving you home against his will because you live close by.  

Great.  

“I can put on my own seatbelt, thanks.” You frown as he lifts his hand to help you put the seatbelt on. He retracts it with a roll of eyes.  

“Be my guest.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as you feel the car being turned on. “Don't worry, m' not gonna puke in your car or whatever.” 

Spencer freezes on his way to changing gears. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“I just told you—” 

He rolls his eyes, “I just meant that driving may make it worse, so if you want, we can wait and then I'll take you home.”  

You open one eye to narrow him down suspiciously. It wasn't that bad. You just had drink a lot, and your body is having a completely normal reaction, though it was a bit annoying. But you don't think you're about to throw up.  

“Careful, you almost sound like you care about my well-being.” 

Spencer drove off the parking lot with a huff, “sure. If you do puke in my car I'll leave you alone in the middle of the avenue.” 

A hiccup came out at the same time as your laugh and it ended up turning into a snort, which was not that graceful and you quickly covered your mouth.  

He gave you a sideways glance and you told him to keep driving, ignoring the twitch on his lips you thought you saw. No, that was definitely not there. 

“You would never do that to me.” 

“Try me.” 

“I can't believe I had a thing for you.” 

“What?” 

He almost had the urge to hit on the brakes but controlled himself. You hummed, watching the trees move as the car drove past them in the avenue. You rolled your window down, leaning your face outside a little, scrunching your nose when droplets of rain poked your nose. 

"Oh, it's gonna rain." 

"It's already raining- what do you mean you had a thing for me? What does that mean?" 

"Are you nervous?" 

"What- No!" He shifted his attention between the road and you quickly. 

You nodded, pretending you believed him and folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back on the seat, closing the car window so you wouldn't get wet.  

“You're kinda my type, Spencer.” 

“I'm- I'm your type— what does that mean?” He insisted and you rolled your eyes with a groan, you wished you were drunker than this. 

“... pretty boy with pretty brown eyes ... smart as hell and has a questionable sense of style. C'mon. It's like you're begging me to fall in love with you." You cleared your throat. "I had a crush on you, as in the past sense." 

Spencer squinted. "You just spoke in the present tense-" 

"Yeah, I knew you were going to focus on that, leave me alone, I'm drunk." 

He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at your expense.  

"Right." 

How come he never noticed it? He couldn't stop thinking about it.  

“Are you still thinking about it?” 

Spencer turned on your street, biting his cheek. “No.” 

“Why not?”  

He spun his neck to look at you and almost drove into the sidewalk, which made you huff out a laugh.  

“Careful, genius. You might crash us because you figure out somebody has a crush on you.” 

Spencer scoffed, turning the engine off to glance at you in disbelief. “Are you serious? You just spoke in the present tense again.” 

Shrugging, you leaned back on the seat, sideways to stare at him, a little smile playing on your lips because you were enjoying the banter too much.  

“Did I?” 

“Yes.” he frowned and his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible you just felt like biting it.  

“It started when I saw you in glasses.” You admitted, nails scratching against your jeans distractedly. “You were like a knock-off Peter Parker, just cuter and way more attractive.” 

He scowled at you but you were able to see the clear pink cheeks he had acquired upon being called attractive. You weren't lying. The biggest lie and cruelty of this world was that Spencer Reid wasn't looked at twice by girls or boys. You would've been fanning over him at high school. 

“You're mocking me,” he concluded. 

You denied with a hum from deep within your throat. “Nu-huh. I'm not.” 

His eyes analyse every micro expression of your face and you stare as he does so. His lips twitch before he speaks and your eyes fall on them. 

“We're here.” 

He chose to say instead, his brain on slow thinking mode as you stared at him like you were contemplating something in your head. 

“You want me to go?” 

Spencer blinks up at you, big brown eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights, the corner of your mouth lifts upwards slightly. 

“What do you mean? I gave you a ride.” He replied, confusedly. “Do you need help to go up to your apartment? Are you dizzy?” 

“Not dizzy.” You shifted, pulling your knees up to hold them. Shoes off ever since you entered his car. “It was just a question.” 

“Are you testing me?” 

You tilted your head, causing a few strands of your hair to be released from behind your ear as you rummaged through his glove box. A book — of course there was a book in there —, a lens cleaner spray — you wondered if he still used his glasses, just not on the field —, two hair ties — you lift a brow at that — and lastly, his license and vehicle registration — you smile at the picture. He snatched it out of your hand to pull it back on the glove box and close it.  

“Why would I be testing you?” 

“To make fun of me.” 

Your eyes narrowed in slits.  

“I don't like making fun of people, less alone you.” 

Spencer held your stare for a hot second before he leaned back on his seat with a sigh.  

You poked his hip, laughing when he jumped in surprise.  

“You're so cute.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Calling you cute or tickling you?” 

“Both!” He shrieked out, holding your hand as you attempted to tickle him again. You adjusted yourself on the seat, studying the way he seemed intrigued by your hand. Or the fact he hadn't let go of it. “I can help you up to your apartment, ” he said after a moment of silence, something stirring in his stomach at the way you were looking at him.  

"You want to help me up to my apartment?" Now you are just riling him up for the sake of it. You hold his hand before he can let go of yours, a smirk dancing around your lips. "Sorry, I'll stop." 

"You're so annoying,"  

"You think so?" Your voice is low, careful. You lean forward slightly. 

"Yes," he says with uncertainty. He lifts his other hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear because it kept falling on your cheek.  

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you swallow hard, shivering as his fingers trail down your cheek. "Spencer." 

"Mhm?" He's not paying attention to what you're saying, too busy entranced by your lips to do anything else. You just wish he'd pull both of you out of your misery. Since he doesn't move, you take matters into your own hands and break the gap between the two of you. His breath halts and he takes one or two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, lips parting in surprise. You bask in the effect that you have on him before he pulls you in by the back of your neck and it's your turn to react surprised by his actions. Your back arches and a sound of contentment escapes your throat when his fingers press against your thigh.  

You're straddling his lap in no time, his hands all over your body. You lower your lips to his neck, nibbling at his skin, satisfied with the moan he lets out in response to your touch.  

Spencer says your name once. Twice. It's the third time that you actually hear him.  

"What?" 

"You're drunk," he breathes out, chest going up and down unsteadily. "We should- we should stop." 

"I'm not drunk." You tilt your head, tracing his swollen lower lip with your thumb.  

He chuckles nervously, grabbing your hands to pull it away from his neck and his neck so he could think straight for five minutes. "You are. You taste like tequila." 

"Mhm, is that so?" 

He groans, eyes dropping shut. "Don't do that." 

Your smile widens into a menacing grin.  

"Do what, genius?" 

"This. You. You know what you're doing." Spencer insists half-heartedly, eyes fluttering open to stare at you. He can't help but stare down at your lips again, letting out a sigh.  

Finally, your shoulders slump in dissatisfaction as you realize he wouldn't want to go forward as long as you have an ounce of alcohol in your blood.  

"Who's annoying now?" You mumble, burying your head on his shoulders. His fingers trail up and down your bare arms, his hands then settle on your hip, drawing invisible circles there. You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. "You're gonna be the death of me," you whine, wrapping both arms around his middle. Spencer shakes with a chuckle and you smile into his skin.  

There is no going back from this. You either screwed up your professional relationship or just initiated something really good.  

You don't know which one is worse. 

He goes up to your floor with you and you expect him to say goodbye as you step out of the elevator. He follows you to your door and finds the key in your purse that you had spent more than a minute trying to find it.  

"You want to stay over?" You eye him, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality, you are expecting a yes.  

It's not what you get. 

"No." You conclude you screwed up your whole dynamic. He holds your wrist before you walk in and leave him in the hallway, pulling you back and cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours in a rather gentle and less frantic kiss than the ones you had just shared in the car. "Ask me when you're not drunk," he mumbles into your lips and you frown when he withdraws himself from you.  

You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't mean you enjoy the thought of spending the night without him, finishing what you started.  

"Will you want to stay over then?" 

Spencer knows what you mean. You're asking if he will want to stay over after tonight, after the moment has passed and it's another day, or if he wants to forget and pretend it never happened.  

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate, kissing your forehead before he takes a step back, ready to leave but not wanting to with the image of you leaning against your doorway, face slightly flushed after your make-out session. "Goodnight." 

You munch on your lower lip, opening the door to go inside. He waits for you to close it but you walk out again, his eyes widening as you pull him into another kiss. Just as he's about to place his hands on your waist, you pull back, patting his chest.  

"You're still annoying." You say, stepping back to enter your apartment, leaving him completely unresponsive in the middle of your hallway for a few minutes.  

God, he hates you.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgarden 

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

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[savicals]

New neighbour König x afab reader part 2

*König is your new neighbour that you thought mildly disliked you.

This ones for you @konigsandghostsslvt LMFAO ENJOY !!

PART ONE🫶

You managed a choked out “Thank you,” before he offered to take the both of you home.

You were pleasantly surprised to find out that he drives a Mercedes S-class, but you did expect an executive car. He dropped off your friend first for convenience, since he and you were neighbours.

He got out of the car and opened the door to let her out and even told her goodnight. What a gentleman.

Just as he was about to close the door, you called his name.

“König.”

He crouched down to see you inside the car and looked at you with curiosity.

“Why have you been so kind to us tonight?” You asked, returning his eye contact. “You don’t… You don’t talk to us. You don’t know us. You have no idea the kinds of people we are.”

But oh, how wrong you were. He knew exactly the kinds of people you were. Especially you. He knew what you were capable of, and it was you drawing a knot so tight in his stomach he has to fuck something. Whether it be a hand, a pillow, a sock, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

He stayed silent for a few moments. Then, he climbed into the seat next to you and shut the car door, never breaking eye contact.

Your heart started beating what you could only imagine as inhumanly fast when he leaned in closer to your face. You were inches apart and you were convinced he could smell the alcohol on your breath, so you tried to direct it away from him.

“I know your type.” He said, his accent prevalent. “You… are the innocent type who acts like she isn’t. You pretend you know what you are doing when you do not.”

He was so right, but why did he know that?

You didn’t actually have anything to say to that. So you looked at him and let him continue.

“You are a tease. What makes you such a tease is that you do it by accident. You don’t intend the nature of yourself that you put out. It’s like… an expensive treat that you want to get your hands on, but is behind an armoured window.”

Did he just imply he wants to get his hands on you?

“You…What? Sorry, are you telling me you want to put your hands… all over me?” You asked, swallowing the brewing heat that grew in your stomach, along with the nervousness you felt too.

“Would you let me?” He asked, holding eye contact still.

You sat for a second and thought. Obviously, the answer is yes. What idiot would say no to him? You let your head fall down in thought and kept it there, so it didn’t feel like König was analysing your thought pattern. It must have been a few minutes, because he lifted your chin up with his rough hands and forced you to look at him.

“Would you?” He asked, again.

This time you felt no inclination to think about your answer. You were already drunk anyway. Being drunk over König didn’t seem worse.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at him with your pretty eyes.

It made his dick throb.

He started by unbuckling your seatbelt and sitting you in a position facing him. He put his hands on your waist and revelled in how tiny you look in his hands.

You looked at him in such a way that drove him crazy. God, how he wanted to ruin you.

He moved your body closer to his and your breath hitched.

You decided to wrap your arms around König’s neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. You kissed him hard, and you kissed him desperately.

He wasn’t expecting it at all, not from you. The huge calloused hands wrapped around your waist clenched into a bruising grip, resulting in you moaning further into the kiss. He picked you up in what little room he had and sat you on his lap in the backseat of the car.

Just about the two of you could fit, and as if you knew what he wanted, you instinctively started grinding your hips down onto König’s lap, earning yourself a low grunt from the man. Finally, you broke the kiss with a gasp and leant back onto the back of the front-seat, still rolling your hips into your chauffeur.

“Mmmh…” you whined, making it known you wanted König even more than you were displaying. It was definitely reciprocated. König bucked his hips up into you as you were grinding into him, both of you still fully clothed, thickening the sexual tension between you two.

“Your place?…Or mine, meine liebe?” He asked, keeping his hands attached to your waist.

“Mm… mine? I don’t care…” you responded, your eyes screwed shut.

You whined in dissatisfaction when König moved you back to your original seat, making sure it was heard and exaggerated.

“I know, schatz.” He cooed, patting you on the leg. “10 minutes…and you’re all mine…”

He stepped out of the backseat and into the front. He turned the ignition on, and sped off back in the direction of home.

[part 3 is already in the making!! Sorry this one is short ily guys]

[redrose10]

Part 2 of three… Thank you for all the comments and messages!

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun, drug references, gang activity, murder, overdose

Word Count: 3,824

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up confused and alone in a room you didn’t recognize. Your throat hurt, but your head hurt worse. You looked around trying to make out your surroundings to get some idea of where you were. The room was empty except for an armchair in the corner with a small side table next to it. The only light in the room came from a small space between the curtains of what you assumed was a window. It seemed like you had been out for quite some time judging by the amount of sunlight.

You tried to stand up, but you felt too weak immediately falling to the ground. You tried once again, but froze when you heard the door handle begin to jiggle. The door swung open and a light was turned on making you squint from the change in brightness.

“Good morning Y/N, good to see you’re finally awake. Can I get you something to eat or maybe a coffee?”, a deep unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Who are you and how the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat not in the mood for pleasantries.

The man walked in and took a seat in the chair across the room. You took noticed of his expensive looking suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back. A strong cologne followed after him. He reminded you a lot of Yoongi.

“Is that anyway to speak to the man that saved your life and took you away from that monster?”, he said while lighting a cigar.

You scoffed, “You saved my life? My life was just fine until you kidnapped me and threw me in this room.”

“Oh dear Y/N. You really are too good and naive for Yoongi.”, the man chuckled.

The mention of Yoongi made your breath hitch.

“How do you know Yoongi?”

“Well Y/N…I am glad you asked. You see me and Yoongi go way back. We met when we were just children. We used to be very good friends, actually like brothers. We ran a little side business together. The largest drug manufacturing and distribution organization since the 80’s, you know… nothing too extreme. Then one day Yoongi’s parents decided to finally give him the reigns to control the business and suddenly he didn’t need me or our organization any more. I agreed to let him walk away because he was my brother and I loved him as such. I wanted him to have a good life either way.”

The man paused to take a long draw of his cigar before continuing, “But it turns out that wasn’t good enough for Yoongi. He was selfish. He wanted to take everything we had worked for while also making sure his past life would never get out to the public. He lied to me. He deceived me because he knew I trusted him. He took all of our assets, every cent. He destroyed any evidence that could be linked to him. And then to top it all off he went to the police to get the whole operation shut down to make sure this could never come back on him. But..unfortunately for him I’ve been able to build back most of what we had even though it’s nowhere near what we once had. It took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money and many of my men all while I’ve had to watch him live the life of luxury in his comfy office, going to galas, being praised and awed by strangers around the world that don’t know how evil he really is behind the facade of expensive suits and sultry looks. I vowed that I would get my revenge against him and make him pay for what he did to me…to us. I was starting to loose hope that I would ever get my chance.”

The man suddenly stood up and took a few long strides to kneel down in front of you. You pushed yourself back against the wall as far as you could while trying to conceal your whimpers.

The man poked his finger against your forehead, “And then I saw the photos of your little date. I could see it in his eyes…just how in love with you he is. I knew this wasn’t some random hookup like the others. And I knew that my time had finally come. Min Yoongi took everything from me and now I will take everything from him.”

“So what are you going to do? Just kill me to get back at him?”, you scoffed.

“Oh no no no Y/N. Not yet at least. I’m going to have some fun first. I want him to suffer for a while. I want him to worry about you until he’s sick to his stomach. For him to know your pain is all his fault. Then I want to kill him.”

You watched as the man walked over to the door before he turned to look back at you, “At the end of the day Yoongi doesn’t care about anyone or anything except himself, his image, and his money. You’re going to learn real soon about the real Min Yoongi.” The man stood up and left you speechless as you watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, Yoongi chanted as he drove around trying to figure out his next move. He knew he never should’ve asked you out. He scolded himself for being weak for you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you and how he developed an immediate crush on you. Something he’d never experienced before. He saw you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You were definitely new. You kept eyeing him before quickly turning away every time he’d try and make eye contact with you. He knew you liked him. He wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately he liked you too. Your cheeks flushed from nervousness and the heat of running around in behind the counter. Your hair wet from sweat and plastered to your forehead. You bit your lip in concentration as you poured the coffee. You looked so cute to him and he wanted to get to know you. To date you and make you his.

Then you shakily handed him his coffee only to knock it down on the counter spilling all over his favorite custom made shoes. Sure he had three other pairs so it really wasn’t a big deal, but he took it as the opportunity to scold you hoping to make you hate him. Selfishly hoping it would keep you away from him so he wouldn’t fall for you even more.

But it didn’t work as he had hoped and he quickly fell more madly in love with you every time he saw you. Then his parents made him get a job at Jin’s Java House. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He tried to argue with them, pleaded for another option but to no avail. He thought he was strong enough. He started off trying to be rude while working together to make you hate him even more then he already knew you did, but it only made him feel guilty and left him wanting to make it up to you any way he could.

Then he tried distracting himself with other women, sometimes as close even ten minutes before he came down for his shift at the coffee shop with you. But even when his secretary was topless and moaning underneath him as he thrusted into her on his office couch all he could think about was you and your beautiful smile and how he wished it was you below him instead. As he was burrowed deep inside someone else he fantasized about how he would take his time and do everything possible to pleasure you until it was you screaming his name over and over. He knew it was a lost cause at that point because he was a man in love. And now here he was driving around the city while you were God knows where because of him and his weaknesses.

Yoongi regretted his past life. He wasn’t proud of what he did. He had gotten in a little trouble at school so his parents had told him he was a failure and they would sell the company before allowing him to take control. He felt hurt and useless and desperate to prove them wrong.

So as a teenager he turned to crime. Him and his best friend started dealing drugs. It started small with just some weed or pills here and there to other friends and their acquaintances. Then it got bigger and bigger until next the thing he knew they were moving thousands of kilos of various drugs every year worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They had bases in Seoul, LA, New York, Tijuana, London, Rio, Moscow, and Beijing as well as dozens of smaller ones he couldn’t even remember any more. Money was rolling in like he’d never seen even though he already grew up wealthy. He had a new woman every night and said goodbye to them before the morning with no strings attached. He was on top of the world and the best part was he was doing it all with his best friend.

Then he got a call. His dads health was deteriorating. The generational family company was falling apart. His mom was coping by drinking and popping pills, probably from his own supply unbeknownst to her. They were proud of him for becoming so successful in his “pharmaceutical business”, a lie he told when people started questioning his job or where his money came from. His parents had changed their minds and wanted him to take over the company. Become the ceo and bring profitability and success back to the family name and business.

At first Yoongi told them to fuck off. He wasn’t going to give up what he had worked hard for after they tossed him aside like he wasn’t their own flesh and blood.

Then days later he got another call from one of the few people in the world that he respected, his grandmother. She asked Yoongi to take over the company that her and his grandfather had fought so hard to build and turn into an empire. She didn’t want to see it given to someone outside of the family or worse have it shut down completely.

Yoongi tried to politely decline, but then solemnly she begged him. She begged him to take over not only to save the company, but so that he could escape his life of crime before he ended up in prison or worse. She cried reminiscing about how many times she stayed up all night worried about him and what he was doing out in the world. How every phone call made her heart skip a beat fearing the worst. How she saw families being torn apart thanks to him and his business’s product. She begged him, even referring to him as her little dumpling, a nickname she had often used for him growing up that he hadn’t heard in years.

Yoongi didn’t ask how she knew about his secret life. He didn’t want to know to be honest, but he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears any longer. So he called his parents the next day to accept the position.

His friend had been kind and understanding, offering to let Yoongi just walk away from everything and leave him in charge.

At first that was fine. Then one night on his way home he found out that his neighbors daughter overdosed. She was just sixteen. A star student and respected ballerina already being scouted by some of the biggest dance companies from all over the world. Yoongi knew the drugs were from his prior organization. There were no others around at the time.

He watched the girls parents standing in the pouring rain until their knees gave out and they hit the concrete and sobbed as the stretcher carrying their daughter was wheeled into the back of a waiting van. After that night his grandmothers voice started playing over and over in his head often keeping him up along with the screams of the parents he heard that night.

Yoongi decided he wanted to erase that part of his life like it never happened.

Because he was still trusted by his friend he had access to the bank accounts which he wiped clean. He destroyed every document he could find that would tie him to the organization. Anonymously he contacted police in every city he could think of and helped them to track down all of their operations getting them all shut down. Multiple people were arrested and a few even killed. He did his best to convince himself that their blood was not on his hands.

And when the few that were arrested tried to snitch and implicate Yoongi there was no significant evidence and the little the police could find was quickly swept under the rug thanks to a little cash swung their way.

Yoongi was able to walk away without anyone knowing of his past life. His friend left to pick up the pieces of a once great empire. And now here Yoongi was paying the price for something he thought was long behind him and could no longer keep him from happiness.

You walked around the room as you looked for an escape. The window had bars around it. Of course the door was securely locked. There was nowhere to go. You didn’t have your phone any longer. You resigned to taking a seat back on the floor trying to come up with a plan.

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by but at some point later in the day a woman appeared with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and some toast as well as an apple and a bottle of water. You thanked her even though you had no appetite at all.

As you sat under the window staring up at the little bit of the sky you could see you wondered what was happening in the outside world. What happened at the coffee shop when you didn’t show up for work? Did they call looking for you? You were going to fall behind in your classes if that even mattered any more. Was Yoongi even looking for you or was he worried this would get out in the public and ruin his image? It was all becoming too much and you began to cry fearing the future and the unknown.

After a while of crying and dozing off you decided you were getting a little hungry. Remembering the tray from earlier you decided against the soup which was now cold and gelatinous, but the toast still seemed okay so you picked it up taking a bite.

It was slightly stale but passable. As you mindlessly chewed you noticed a small piece of paper on the plate where the bread had been.

With your brows furrowed you unfolded the paper finding a hand written note. The writing was barely legible as it appeared quickly scratched down and was written in some kind of lipstick.

“I’ll come back tonight. When you hear three knocks at the door be prepared to run.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart began to race. Quickly you chugged down the bottle of water as you contemplated if running was worth the risk. Surely if they caught you then you would be killed. And who is this woman and why is she helping you? What if it was a test?

You had a million different thoughts going through your mind, but they were cut short.

*Knock…Knock…Knock*

Slowly the door creaked open and the same woman from earlier peaked in the room. She motioned for you to follow her. What did you have to loose you thought so you did.

The two of you tiptoed down the hall and some stairs before you heard shouting after you.

“Run!”, the woman shouted so you sprinted not far behind her. You ran down hallways and and stairs. Looking for any exit door.

Just when you saw your hope, a door with a large window facing the outside world just down the hall from you, you were grabbed and harshly thrown down on the ground. You looked up seeing Yoongi’s friend breathing heavily.

“This is what I get huh? I tried to let you stay upstairs in a warm room. I gave you food. Yoongi always said I was the soft one out of the two of us. I guess he was right, but not any more.”, he spat dragging you down the hall by your arm.

Frantically you searched for the woman from earlier who tried to help you. You hoped she got out or was at least safe, but you quickly realized that was not true. A blood curdling scream rang through the air followed by a single gunshot. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. Not before you’ve gone on a final date with your Yoongi.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the man threw you in a cell, the iron gates loudly clanking shut. It looked like you were in a dungeon. It was cold and there was zero light coming through.

Without speaking the man tossed you an old dirty towel to use as a blanket before heading back upstairs leaving you down there alone.

Days went by. You were barely fed and barely slept. You had accepted your fate at that point. Unsure if it was the delirium setting in or what but you often found yourself chuckling at your situation.

You missed the days of going to college. You missed your friends. You missed the smell of coffee and the warmth it brought. You couldn’t believe how your life had turned around in the matter of hours all thanks to you falling in love with a lier, con artist, the devil? You weren’t really sure how to view Yoongi right now. He was probably leading a meeting right now without a care in the world. He’s probably going out to dinner later with some woman he met on his way to work with the sole intention to get in her pants by the end of the night. A small part of you hoped he was worried about you. Looking for you. Doing anything to help. Because a small part of you still loved him.

You hadn’t heard anyone walk in until you heard the iron gate slide open ending in a loud clank.

“Put this on. And use these wipes to clean yourself up.”, an unfamiliar voice said.

You sat staring at the items in front of you not moving.

“Bosses orders”, the man growled.

Slowly you grabbed the wipes and began wiping down your face and arms. It actually felt kind of nice.

You reached for the other items, a black cocktail dress and hair brush. You took the brush and ran through your hair a few times until the knots were out.

You looked at the dress and then at the man in front of you. He rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around and facing the wall. Quickly you removed your clothes and put the dress on before the man could turn around.

Just as you finished, the familiar smell of cigars entered the air and not long after Yoongi’s friend appeared.

“Wow don’t you look nice. I can see why Yoongi likes you. I think he’ll appreciate that you dressed up just for him.”, he said before blowing a cloud smoke through your cell.

“Now go ahead and stand up against that wall.”, he pointed towards the other side of the cell.

You crossed your arms in defiance refusing to move.

He chuckled, “I like you Y/N. I really do. Too bad I’m only giving you twenty four hours to live.” Your face dropped in realization at his statement.

A bright flash lit up the cell for just a moment before you realized your photo had been taken.

“Thanks sweetheart. I’m sure Yoongi will love it.”, he laughed before leaving you alone once again.

Yoongi was back at his place pacing back and forth. He’d ignored call after call from Hobi. He’s sure he’s wondering where he and/or you are and he doesn’t have the brain power right now to come up with a believable lie.

As he stared out at the river below his apartment he heard a new notification on his phone. A text message from an unknown number came through showing the preview of a photo.

Clicking on the message he instantly dry heaved sure he would’ve fully vomited had he consumed anything today.

A photo of you in a black dress. Your hair frazzled. Immediately Yoongi noticed the bruising on your body. The cut on your lip and welt on your forehead. What killed him the most was the look on your face. The look of fear, of despair. He could see you were holding back tears and it was all thanks to him.

Seconds later another message came through, “Y/N’s a beauty Yoongi. I always did think you had good taste when it came to women and it seems like even after all these years nothing has changed. You have 24 hours to find us. If you involve the police I’ll kill her instantly. If you even care…”

You had changed back into your old clothes giving yourself a little more coverage from the cold. The floor was made of stone but you were so exhausted you were able to drift off to sleep quite quickly.

You fell into dreamland. Dreaming that you were on a beach. The warm sun shone down on you as a breeze rippled through the air. The ocean waves crashed gently against the sand next to you as you walked along the edge. Looking up you saw Yoongi just down the beach waiting for you. He flashed you a gummy smile showing you the two drinks he had in his hands. Just as you began to walk towards him the sky turned dark and a giant wave came crashing down on you dragging you out to sea. You screamed for help unable to get yourself out of the current as the waves kept you down. Running out of fight you felt yourself slowly drifting under water father and rather. The last thing you remembered was hearing Yoongi screaming your name.

You jerked awake sweaty and out of breath with your hand clutching to your chest.

Sitting up you did your best to try and calm yourself down taking deep slow breaths.

Faintly from a distance you swore you heard your name shouted. You brushed it off thinking it was just a residual memory from your dream.

Then you heard it again, a little clearer this time and you were a little more certain.

“Yoongi?”, you whispered to yourself hearing a familiar sound as the door slammed open.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays. 

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know. 

You know too well. 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away. 

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath. 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head. 

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together. 

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again. 

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth. 

Too smooth.

 It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success. 

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark. 

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing. 

And then you burst into tears. 

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight. 

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial. 

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest. 

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue. 

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert. 

 “Until someone called me a liar.” 

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full. 

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe. 

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you. 

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back. 

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies. 

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it. 

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose. 

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting. 

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand. 

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling. 

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours. 

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.” 

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight. 

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes. 

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble. 

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole. 

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.” 

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed. 

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt. 

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.” 

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them. 

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear. 

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you. 

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath. 

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

“Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck. 

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers. 

“How was work?” 

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this- 

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face. 

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak. 

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood. 

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh. 

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts? 

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern. 

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch. 

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind. 

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment. 

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing? 

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair. 

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”  

[neiptune]

aot boys x reacting to a dream where you die

a/n: inspired by @meowzfordayz and her wonderful hcs! got a bit carried away lol these are too long but i hope you enjoy anyway :)

eren secretly freaks tf out but is too embarrassed to admit it. you wake up to the pressure of his hands not so subtly traveling across different parts of your belly and hips, the coolness of his fingertips on your bare skin making you shiver. “eren? what're you doing?” you ask, confused, your own hands closing around his wrists to delicately move them away. but he resists your push, his fingers stubbornly finding their way to the familiar albeit faded scar residing right above your hip bone. “sorry. didn't mean to wake you” his voice cracks, which is enough to prompt you to sit up. “tell me what's wrong” you take one of his hands and squeeze twice, your secret way to communicate that everything's fine. eren's big eyes search for signs of distress or pain in yours but all he finds is genuine concern and grogginess. he relaxes and weakly squeezes your hand right back. “bad dream. it's stupid, let's just go back to sleep” but of course you see right through his fake composure and pull him in for a hug, gently hushing the trembling exhale that tickles your neck as his arms close around you. “you're okay” he whispers to himself and you hum in confirmation, nodding against his shoulder. “i am. the only thing truly hurting me is your snoring”. he huffs at that, covertly thankful you're still there to give him a reason to roll his eyes

lol armin will not be there when you wake up in the middle of the night, senses alert bc of the unusually cold, empty spot next to you. he doesn't reply when you call him so you're forced to get up and explore the whole floor, bathroom to study, until you hear some muffled sniffling coming from downstairs and you rush to the living room, heart in your throat. “armin??? are you okay? what happened??” he's curled into himself on the couch but as he hears your voice he lifts his head, heavy groan crawling up from his throat because what the fuck, why are you awake? he hates hates hates the idea of you seeing him like this for the nth time, always so stupid and helpless now with tear stained cheeks too for something that's not even real. “nothing” his defensive tone startles you and he regrets it immediately, sigh heavy as he tiredly rubs his temples, a sign of surrender and vulnerability that draws you in until you're sitting next to him, warm hand closing on his knee. “what if i brew some tea? we still have some cookies left” you speak gently and his gaze softens, guilt already bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “it's 2am” “and?” “you have to work tomorrow” “and??”. so he ends up brewing the tea instead and you simply won't talk about what happened until the next morning, after a fair amount of the night before was spent sharing homemade peanut butter cookies with armin taking your hand to press gentle kisses to your wrist from time to time <3

oh my god jean 100% feels too stupid to mention it or letting a dumb dream upset him once he's awake and can physically see you and touch you as you're making breakfast together, he's also too proud to admit how horrible it felt to see your body get so rigid, your skin too cold, eyes void of their usual light. so he doesn't mention it. but you can tell something is off: he's more attentive than usual (when has he ever pushed you away from the toaster bc you might bet burned?) he's extremely touchy-feely (more than usual lol it's fine for him to have his arms wrapped around you as you're rinsing a fork but not letting go? not even allowing you to turn off the stove, at the expense of his precious eggs, now at risk of charring??) so of course your spider senses detect that something isn't quite right and you interrogate him over breakfast, just as he casually plays with your fingers and quite uncomfortably tries to eat with his left hand. “what d'you mean i'm being weird? that how you accept my unconditional love?” he has you rolling your eyes a number of times before he shrugs with a “had a nightmare last night, no biggie” “did something happen to me?” “yeah, no need to take the piss, i know it's dumb”. a fond smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shrug as well. “wasn't gonna take the piss. if something happened to you in one of my dreams, i'd probably freak out” “oh thank god” jean forces you up from your chair in a split second and pulls you in the tightest hug in recorded history lol

well connie will definitely blurt it out and attempt to downplay it at the same time lmao don't even get me started you'll wake up and he'd be in the kitchen making coffee greeting you with something like “g'morning! btw i dreamed you died last night hahaha isn't that so stupid??? you were dead dead, like R.I.P you, right in my arms” and you're standing there like 🤨🤨🤨 “i'm glad you thought that was funny?” “so funny, i even cried a little when i woke up haha you were sleeping right next to me and i was tearing up like a dumbass omg did i mention how still you were???” his emotional responses are all sorts of fucked up tbh. connie doesn't always know how to react to things and unexpected situations and complicated feelings bc he's so used to being the cheerful comic relief but somewhere underneath all the sunshine he carries around there's actual fear. connie is actually scared, all the time. of the ocean, of loneliness, of losing those who are dear to him, of being too much and not nearly enough at the same time. he has his own ways of dealing with fear and they're not always ideal. so you delicately take the clutched phone from his hands and peck his lips once, twice, each kiss lasting longer than the former until he takes your face in his hands and just keeps it there, forehead resting on yours. “i'm here. and you're a stupid idiot for calling yourself a dumbass”. he chuckles at that, which makes you smile. “promise you'll stay alive long enough to call me a stupid idiot a million more times?” “yes, if you wash the dishes”

i mean of course levi is mad. lol. at himself, bc he was not able to protect you in his dream and at you bc where tf are you??? he's petrified sitting up in (a very much empty) bed, mentally gives himself 3 seconds before he allows irrational panic to kick in but thank fuck you flush the toilet 1,5 seconds later, wash your hands and come back to your shared bedroom to find the grumpy man you're in love with glaring daggers your way, scowl so deep you hesitate by the door, silently wondering what you did wrong. were you being so tossy and turny you woke him up? did you take more than your share of blankets? did you accidentally punch him in the face? (it has happened and he was surprisingly nice about it lol). “i'm sorry” you blurt out, cautious as you climb onto your bed again, slipping your legs underneath the covers. “what are you apologizing for?” his voice sounds weird, which freaks you out even more. “not sure” you tilt your head “but you look mad”. levi huffs, features softening. “was it sleep kicking? or did i fart? you know edamame gives me real bad gas—” “you did not fart” he runs a hand through his hair, simultaneously exhausted and biting back an incredulous smile. “you died” he blurts it out but saying it out loud sucks so badly that he clenches his fists and you don't really know how to react. “i couldn't do shit about it. you just died. t'was horrible and i know it's not your fault and it was just a dream but...” “i'm sorry i died” your soft reply interrupts his babbling and prompts another snort. “stop apologizing” “what can i do, then?”. levi inspects your features attentively and takes your hand underneath the covers, intertwining his fingers with yours. “promise you won't do it again” he goes along with your silliness and you smile, nose rubbing against his, barely audible whisper of a “promise” before kissing him

porco will never and i mean never tell you what's up lmao his dumbass would rather die than admit a dream has had the power to affect him at all. he's a grown up™ and rational™ enough to discern reality from fantasy and guess what?? his current reality = you roaming around the house to cook, do the laundry, jokingly mock his housework skills as he vacuums rooms missing entire spots and breaks yet another glass in the sink (“stfu the sponge was too damn soapy it slipped” ) but honestly? porco doesn't even notice how much he stares the day after his nightmare. not just in the morning, he literally can't cast his eyes away from you for the entire day. he's 12 so as soon as you mention it he gets defensive lol like you'll be on the couch with your legs on his lap as he watches something on his laptop, you're reading a book and you'll say something along the lines of “ya know you've been staring a lot today” and he'll automatically reply “yeah?? cuz you're ugly” which only confirms your hunch. “don't be an ass, why were you staring??” “just told you?” “porco” “that's my name, don't wear it out” he's so infuriating honestly but eventually your persistence does wear him down enough to elicit one true response: “because i wanted to make sure you're actually here”. you tilt your head, confused frown that makes him bite back a smile. “what does that even mean?? where else would i be? are you high?” “high on you, babe” lmao yeah he won't tell you how horrible and scary and wrong it was to see your body get so still and your eyes suddenly unwilling to open and your hands not squeezing his back no matter how much he screamed and called for you and cursed and cried. why would he? porco can discern reality from fantasy. as you jokingly poke his side with your sock-clad foot and laugh as he grabs it to nibble at your ankle, he's grateful af for his reality :)

reiner instantly wakes you up lol he's too shaken to think straight and can't handle the pounding of his heart nor the cold sweat coating his forehead tbh. you freak out as well bc he looks like shit so you think he's not feeling well -> it's 30 entire seconds of back and forth (“are you okay?” “are you okay??” “why are you shaking???” “why are you sweating????”) until you can sense his stress is about to grow into a full on anxiety attack and you take his giant, cold, clammy hands in yours, squeezing hard enough to ground him. “baby, breathe with me. i'm right here, okay? just like that. deep and slow”. it doesn't matter that he squeezes back hard enough to hurt you. “you're doing great! wanna count with me?”. he closes his eyes and you both count to ten out loud, three times before he looks at you again and the crude fear that was in his gaze is long gone, leaving space to relief and slight embarrassment. “don't apologize” you cut him off right as his lips part “are you okay? can you wait for me? i'll go grab some water and—” he interrupts you right back by slotting his mouth to yours, with a kiss so feverish your brain shortcircuits. deaf to your protests, he will keep murmuring nonsense against your lips, an endless progression of i'm sorry, you're fine, i'm sorry, i love you, thank god, i love you so much. when you're allowed to catch your breath at last he presses one last kiss to your forehead and you're finally able to connect the dots. much like armin, he doesn't enjoy being so weak and emotional so often around you, but he also knows you feel strongly about him being so hard on himself. you won't have it. so reiner silently accepts and is oh so grateful for each sweet reassuring word you whisper to the shell of his ear, knowing all too well that nightmares have nothing on your i'm here and i'm never leaving and i know i'm safe with you

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟗: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂.𝐉𝐇 ♡

Pure Relaxation

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Jongho kept losing over and over again. Becoming increasingly more frustrated as time passes, it's a good thing you are here to help him cool off.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  703

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive, Fluff. Gamer Au.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Boyfriend!Jongho x Girlfriend!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Edging. Swearing. Such sweet intimacy. Sleepy sex. Jongho lowkey takes his frustration out on the reader in the form on cock warming hehe.

Thank you, @deathbyyeekies , for requesting Jongho for this day ♡♡♡.

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This was a terrible idea… Actually, scratch that, it was a sinisterly great idea, and holy shit were you internally screaming at Jongho for suggesting such an idea. He had always said that he wanted to try to be more physically intimate since he is not the one to normally show physical affection. And you being a touch-starved person, how could you ever deny the touch of your lover? He was sitting in his room on his gaming chair. He and the others were all playing a new game for game night, and Jongho suggested you come cuddle him while he plays.

At first, it seemed innocent. You were koala hugging him, with your legs sitting bent either side of him. Every now and again, you felt him wrap his arms around you to give you a hug or draw shapes along your spine. You were in complete bliss, even tempting to fall asleep. But when it was like a switch went off and Jongho. He kept losing the stupid game, huffing out every time he saw the red killed banner. He was getting frustrated as the moments passed and needed something to help him cool down…

Or someone.

“Come on baby, before they start complaining I’m not back yet.” Jongho had told the others that he was just going to the bathroom for a moment so he could mute and help you prepare for him. His fingers were deep inside you as he whispered nothing but sweet things in your ear. You were a whining mess, wanting so badly to come undone all over his fingers. “Such a god girl.”

“J-Jong.” Your grinding hips start to stutter, getting yourself tip over the edge. You came hard, feeling your liquids pool around your lover's fingers. He wasted no time in pulling them out and placing them in his mouth. He hummed at the taste wanting nothing more than to sit here for hours and fuck you, but instead, he promised to play this stupid game he doesn’t even want to play.

“Now for the fun part, Honey.” he gripped his cock, stroking himself painfully slow before using his other hand to help you sit up so his tip was pushing against your dripping wet entrance. “Come on baby, take a seat.”

You sank down onto his thick dick, feeling him fill you up deliciously. Your hips automatically start to grind, but his hands suddenly grip your hips tightly, stopping you. Your eyes snap open to look at him, seeing his features were painted with a frustrated but sternness You sighed, silently apologizing, leaning down to press your body against his, laying your head on his board chest. His fingers rake up your naked form, calming you down before he groans “Don’t worry I’ll fuck up later.”

And so the hour begins, trying to sit still, and not grind against him and every time he lost you felt your cock twitch inside you, making you feel like you were going to combust. He wasn’t any better, every time he got angry he’d trust upwards into you so he could calm himself and it partially worked, but now all he wanted to do was fuck you into next week.

But once the next hour passed and then another a different form of desire began to brew. A need for intimacy. You were falling asleep, feeling a wave of comfort and peacefulness being so close to Jongho. You felt safe from him being nestled deep inside you. It was like your heart was opened to him and his, for you. Even after you fell deep asleep and he was done with his game. Neither of you wanted to move.

But to save yourselves from aching muscles later, Jongho picked you up, slipping out of you for only a moment before laying you down on the bed where he could let you cuddle up next to him while he sank back into you. No words were spoken, no eye contact was present. Your bodies did all the talking, and as your limbs tangled around one another, you both knew this would become one of your favourite things to do

- ♥︎

[sillyrabbit81]

Fuse

Prompt: Sleepy & Lazy, Daddy Kink from @myaimlessuniverse (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 600

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, praise kink, probably some dd/lg vibes (I don't know! maybe!), p in v sex, Sy POV

Authors Note: Hi... Been a while... Probably not what you expected, but I swear I'm working on the Brotherhood, but I also have quite a few of these left so I thought I'd knock one out as a warm up for the smut I'm trying to write in the Brotherhood (the Brotherhood won't have daddy kink in it fyi) I'm not feeling Daddy kink like I used to and so I tried to write this a little different from what I had done before. Fingers crossed! As always I need to thank my amazing mate and reader @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated. I also need to thank @augustsprincess for her reading and suggestions.

It was edited by me, on the fly, there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

Sy tightens his jaw and he breathes out a ragged curse through his teeth as he slips past your slick, velvet folds and into your silken heat. He watches, enthralled by the utterly carnal vision of himself disappearing inside your impossibly tight core.

“Stop,” you gasp and he peers up at you perched precariously above him. 

Your thighs tremble beneath his hands and it takes everything he has to stop himself from grabbing your hips and sliding your blossoming core all the way down his cock.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl,” he says, dropping his gaze back to the explicit view between your legs. 

You’ve only taken the tip of him inside yourself and already he feels that tingle brewing in the base of his spine. He’s waited so long for you, longer than he ever thought he’d wait for anyone and he could barely stand it.

“Just a little more, I know you can do it.”

“Daddy,” you whimper. “You’re too big.”

He groans as sweat breaks out over his forehead. “Fuck, baby. You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, in a voice that quivers as much as your pouty bottom lip.

Sy’s heart breaks and he sits up drawing you to his chest. “Hush. You did so good for me baby. Daddy’s proud of you for tryin’.” 

With the tip of his cock still trapped within your snug pussy, he rocks you slowly, murmuring his sweet praise in your ear as he strokes your hair. His thumb caresses your cheek and he smiles when he feels your soft lips against his pad. His cock pulses inside of you as your plush tongue curls around him and you begin to suck. It doesn’t take long for him to feel your quivering body relax against him. He closes his eyes, content as he feels you hum happily within his arms.

He doesn’t really notice at first, he thinks the soft warmth enveloping his cock must be his imagination. Then he hears you moan.

“Babygirl?” he murmurs, softly.

“Hmm?”

He looks at your pretty head resting on his shoulder. You look almost asleep, your eyes seem to have trouble focussing and you’re still sucking hard on his thumb. But then you sigh and nuzzle into his neck while you roll your hips and there’s no doubt about it, you’re slowly sinking lower onto his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he growls into your ear. “That my good fuckin’ girl.”

Sy clenches his jaw to keep himself in check, each moment you rock your hips and take more of him into you is the most exquisite torture he’s ever had. 

“Am I doing good, Daddy?” you ask, hesitantly, dropping his thumb from your mouth.

He’s trembling as much as you were earlier. He has no idea how you can’t see how much you’re affecting him, that you can’t see that in this moment he’d give you everything, anything, just for a little bit more of your sweet pussy.

“So good baby,” he groans. “But don’t stop, Daddy needs more.”

He has to lay down, he has to see his thickness stretch you open. He holds your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he falls back to the bed. His mouth falls open as he watches the last of his cock vanish and your bodies completely fuse. 

He can’t hold it back, that orgasm that threatened from the start tore through his spine and his hips bucked up from the mattress. His eyes force themselves shut as hot pulses surge through him and even though he can’t see anymore, the image of your bodies finally together is burned into his psyche.

[navia3000]

hello! I'd like to request a Tom Riddle oneshot, maybe a part 2 to Amortentia? But if you don't want that, I have an idea where Tom sees y/n as an academic rival but they get partnered yet realize that they enjoy each other's company.I only request that it's a ravenclaw reader hehe and it's up to you to make it more fluffy hehe, advance thank you!!

Potions Class - T. Riddle

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Pairing : Tom Riddle x Ravenclaw! Reader

Warnings : Cursing

Genre : Fluff, or, where Tom and reader are forced to work together after years of rivalry

A/N : I saw this request and got to work immediately! I hope I did your vision justice! And, I am working on Amortentia part two so I will let you know when that’s out <3

Masterlist

Requests are Open

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“Y/N, you’re with Riddle for this one.”

Her professor’s words made her heart stop. No, she thought, it can’t be. It’s no secret that Tom Riddle is her biggest rival. The Slytherin has been a thorn on her side ever since first year, the two competing for the highest grades possible.

Of course, if you asked her, she’d say she’s the best of the two, and that Tom Riddle is nothing but a stuck up piece of sh-

“Well, I knew the day would come when we would have to work together at some point.” Tom Riddle’s aggravatingly smooth voice jolted her from her thoughts.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she spoke with reluctance. She watched as the boy sat next to her, and she galked at his nonchalance. “Does this not bother you?”

“Very much so, but nothing I can do about it. Well, other than show you how to correctly brew a potion.” He struck a nerve and he knew it.

“I know how to brew a potion, thank you very much. My excellent grade in this class proves it.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” The nickname brought a heat to her cheeks, her mind overrun with thoughts of how devastatingly irritating Tom Riddle was.

The pair got to work in silence, only speaking when reciting the recipe from memory, or asking for an ingredient from the other. As they worked, Y/N found herself oddly at ease. She had to admit, they worked well together.

As they waited for the cauldron to boil, he broke the silence. “What are your thoughts on the Astronomy project?”

She was surprised at first, but answered honestly. “I thought it easy. Not exactly necessary seeing as it was information we both already knew, but I found it enjoyable.” He huffed out a small laugh at her words, an action which took her completely off-guard.

“Yes, I thought it enjoyable as well. Although, I am quite positive I got a better grade than you,” he spoke with a teasing smirk.

“You did not!” She exclaimed with a laugh.

“Did too. Denial is not a good look on you, dear raven.” Once again, she was surprised at seeing this side of Tom, the two so busy competing and never actually getting to know each other. Yet she was enjoying their easy banter, her affection for him certainly growing as the minutes ticked by.

“Alright, just add the basil and stir, and we should be fine.” He spoke as she did what he instructed. However, they were both startled when the potion began bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron.

“What did you do?” Tom exclaimed.

“I did what you said!”

“No, this clearly is not what I said.” At his words, she turned to stare at him in disbelief. How dare he accuse her of messing up the potion? Yet, as the pair made eye contact, they couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, drawing the attention from their classmates.

“Well,” he spoke after three minutes of uncontrollable laughter, “it seems we have managed to fuck this up royally.”

“It seems we have,” the smile was glued on her face.

“What do you say we get together to study, we clearly need the work.” She paused at his words, searching his eyes to decipher a hidden motive to his offer.

“I’d like that,” she spoke after she couldn’t find one.

“Great.” He began cleaning up their workspace.

“Great,” she whispered back.

Tom Riddle is definitely not what she thought.

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[tainted-liquor]

'Hot Wheels! ...🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ft. 1610Miles

...⋆｡° ✮

Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of lemon zest!

TWs: A lil suggestive, but nth serious? Miles js runs a hot wheels car across yo ass like a ramp😭

A/N: Inspired by my man lol

It was dark outside. Wayyy too dark, the kind of dark where your main priority would be to go straight home, regardless of what temptations of bright colors pushed themselves into your face. But right now, you were In Miles' house while his parents were out on their little 15-year anniversary date. You spent the whole day dancing in his room, trying on some of his shorts for the sheer fun of it, and watching TV together so close that it would've sent Mrs. Morales into a coma. It was around 9 o'clock, and the two lovebirds still weren't back from their date.

So, you decided to do something to pass the time. You hopped on on the plushy material of the Morales' couch, doodling in Miles' sketchbook while you waited for him to finish taking his shower. Did you nearly lose your shit when you saw his many many Gwen drawings? Yeah. But you were instantly relieved to see most of them crossed out, painted over, or replaced with drawings of you entirely.

You scribbled down a rough sketch of Miles, groaning in frustration when it didn't turn out how you imagined. He looked French instead of Puerto Rican, and everything decided it wanted to go wrong. You put down the pencil, letting it fall between the concave of its pages before scrolling on your phone. It wasn't very long until Miles emerged from the bathroom, internally panicking as his toned muscles stared at your from his short-sleeved white tee. "Eugh, you stink. Get back in the shower" You joked, sporting a wicked grin and a quiet laugh.

He side-eyed you, looking you up and down before sucking his teeth. "I will throw you off that couch, don't play with me" he chuckled, shifting closer so you could see the tiny blue box in his right hand. "Oooh, what's that?" You asked, turning your head as he loomed over you. He opened the box, revealing 3 toy cars stacked on each other. "My cars!" He beamed, flopping comfortably on the living room floor as he took out every toy car oh so gently. "Cars? Like, Hot Wheels cars?" You inquired, watching as he pretended to rev up the engine.

It was no surprise that he owned toy cars, you had already seen his massive collection of rare toys and posters around his room. You thought it was cute, silently admiring as he explained why he even has the cars, and breaking down their value. "I mean, I can put them away if you want?" He asked, sounding slightly more embarrassed by the second. "Oh, no no no! I love that you have interests!" You reassured. You watched him stay in his own little world, before continuing to scroll on your phone.

It wasn't long before Miles looked back up at you, suddenly brewing an idea. He slowed his actions, analyzing your posture and looking down at his cars. He fought back a smirk that crept on his face, slowly advancing towards you like he was trying to see what you were looking at on your phone. You didn't really notice he was getting closer, finding yourself lost in the world of TikTok as you watched a guy dance to Kung Fu Fighting. And you didn't notice until you felt cold metal hit the fabric of your shorts.

"AH-! FUCK-MILES WH-..." You began, turning around to see Miles using the curve of your spine and the silhouette of your behind as a ramp. Miles burst out in laughter, shivering as he ran each car across your backside. "Are you fuckin' serious right now?" You deadpanned. He nodded, a smug but clearly overjoyed grin plastered on his face. "What? It's-...pffFFHAHAA...It's the perfect ramp!"

"Make me smack you miles"

Taglist: @ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @Fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x

taglist form <3 https://forms.gle/iZbuc8PAAo5k5xXG6

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making breakfast for them before they leave w/harvey specter pleaaaaaaaaaase

Send me a comfort prompt

Warnings: Mentioned sexytimes, but not shown; fluff

"What do you wanna eat?"

"Eat?" Harvey scoffs, picking his shirt up off of where it's hanging on your bed frame. "I thought you didn't do one night stands."

"And I thought you didn't do sleeping over, but you're here, so. Your point?"

"My point is this is all seeming a little too cozy."

"I'm not sending you out of here running on empty. And after last night, I know that you're running on empty." You smirk smugly, resting your hand on your hip as a slow smile curls Harvey's lips. "It can be toast, or coffee, something. But it has to be something. So?"

"...Toast."

"Butter?"

"Yes."

"Jelly? Jam?"

"Honey."

"Yes, dear?"

"For the toast," He chuckles. Your brows raise and fall as you take up your robe and draw it on, tying it as you head into the kitchen. Honey on toast, that's a new one.

You're trying not to overthink the last twelve hours—going home with a stranger that you met at a mixer, having what was quite possibly, the best sex of your life, and waking up to find him still there. He'd looked so deliciously disheveled and sleepy, and had smiled gently at you as you'd opened your eyes.

You shake your head a touch to try and rid yourself of the thought as you get the bread and butter from the fridge. The honey's already on the counter, so that's that squared away. You pop a couple of slices into the toaster and grab a plate for it before you turn to the coffee maker.

You don't have to overthink anything. You know that, logically. That doesn't stop your mind from racing. Are you ever going to see him again? Did he have a good time? He must've, right? He wasn't drunk when he came home with you, and he spent the night. He had at least a bit of a good time, right?

C'mon, don't be so hard on yourself. You know what, he had a fucking great time. More importantly, you both did.

"Coffee smells good."

You jolt a little as he comes into the kitchen. You glance back, nodding and waving toward the toaster.

"Toast is toasting."

"Thank you."

"Sure."

You pour the freshly brewed coffee into a mug, sliding it over.

"Milk's in the fridge if you want it."

"No thanks."

"Sugar?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

You snort a laugh, shaking your head as your face goes hot.

"You know what I fricking mean."

"No thank you." He settles against the counter beside you, taking the mug up and drawing in a sip.

"You always insist on feeding your one night stands?" He asks once he's swallowed.

"No."

"So I'm special?"

"I wouldn't say that. I just don't usually...Have one night stands."

"Well that makes me even more special."

"If you say so."

Harvey reaches out, gripping the tie of your robe and using it to tug you closer. You let him, watching him as his eyes skim your face.

"Remind me where you work?" He asks.

"McHenry, Sigmund, and Lowell."

"Good firm."

"Yes, it is."

"Not the best, though."

"Is that so?"

"Nope. If you were working for the best, you'd be working with me."

You reach out, prodding the toaster as the bread pops up.

"Honey," You nod toward the jar on the counter, beside the butter. Harvey lets go of your robe, turning to the toaster and plucking the slices out of the toaster. You take another mug down, taking your damn time about pouring your own cup of coffee. You take a few sips, giving him a guarded glance as you hear him take a bite of his toast. Harvey hums softly at the taste.

"Alright—" He speaks up through his bite, "I was knocking you about making me toast, but this was a better idea than I thought."

You smile smugly, giving a little shrug as you take a sip of your coffee.

"I'm very smart, Mr. Specter."

"Clearly."

You look over, smiling curiously as he dusts his fingers off and reaches into his jacket pocket. You raise a brow as he draws a card out of his pocket, holding it out.

"What's this for?"

"We ought to have a conversation."

"Because we slept together?" You ask, taking the card.

"No, god no," Harvey chuckles. "I mean, it was great, but that's not why we should hire you."

"Nice save."

"I mean it. You made some damn good points last night—though you made an even better one when you brought me home with you. " He pops the last of the toast into his mouth before he turns away from the counter, chewing still as he says, "Alright. Now I have to go."

You nod, pushing off of the counter and drifting after him as he heads for your front door.

"You've overlooked one critical thing, Mr. Specter."

"What's that?"

"I'm not in the market for a new job."

"That's a mistake." He turns to face you, smiling. "But that number's also good for...Other things."

"Such as?"

"Drinks, dinner...Anything else that may follow."

"And if I choose not to use it?"

"Well," He glances away, shrugging a shoulder. "That's up to you. But it's another mistake." He takes a step closer, cupping your cheek and drawing you in for a kiss. You expect it to be a quick peck, but you sway into him as his lips slip tenderly across yours, his tongue gently prodding between your lips. Before you can really give into it, he leans away, giving you a bright smile as he gently pats your cheek.

"Have a good day—and thanks for the toast."

"Yeah...Yeah, you, too," You smile.

--

You can't stop thinking about him. It's not overthinking, not this time, but he's just...On your mind, all week. His card is burning a hole in your pocket. You've been carrying it around with you,m switching it between bags and purses and jackets, and just...considering.

Now, you've decided to do a little more than consider. It's Friday night, you've got no plans, and you're sure he does, but...You make a call. He picks up on the first ring, and chuckles when he hears your voice.

"I was hoping to hear from you."

"Oh?" You grin, flattered as you sink back in your desk chair. "Why's that?"

"I owe you some toast."

[bowieandqueen11]

Not Just A Trinket / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: hi! ur writing is EVERYTHING btw. ur an amazing writer. you mentioned you wanted to write for izzy hands again and i have a request– feel free to ignore if it's not what ur looking for :) maybe izzy hands x reader where the reader has a small gift for him (a little trinket, a beaded crystal bracelet– something they made for him) but they're WAY too anxious to give it to him because they're scared he won't like it so they end up just carrying it around, trying to build up the courage to give it to him pfft

AHHH thank you so much my lovely, that's so sweet of you, and so is this idea!!! :3 Also I know I'm a little early in the timeline mentioning Davy Jones but I like to think of Izzy as a trendsetter ;)

Warning: mentions of fighting/ injury and strong language, some sexual innuendo!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nadsdraws.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was beginning to detest feeling like this.

He would rather charge sword first at a horde of raging Englishmen: would prefer to scrabble and scrape and scratch through the eye sockets of thousands of the Spanish with naught but his bloodied fingernails. Hell, even grovelling under the sole of the snivelling wreck that now possessed his former boss like a twisted nightmare, a horrid regret, would be preferable. If his hand wasn't too firmly attached to tangled rope of one of the shrouds in a death grip, if his glove wasn't close to bursting at the seams with how tightly he was gripping, he had half a mind to draw his dagger out of its scabbard and gouge his heart out right there and then.

He looked furious. So much so, that Roach was quick to side step him as he hopped down the steps with fresh sewing materials in his hand, giving a final look back at the intent man who only bared his teeth at the cook in response. Valuing his life, or at least the ability to keep all his fingers, if the sight of the keen blade being twisted between Izzy's free fingers told him anything, Roach is quick to recoil back and raise a concerned eyebrow in Wee John's direction. He in turn just rolls his eyes and lowers his head back to his sewing, but the rest of Stede's crew are astute enough, from where they're lingering around the deck, to notice the thick tension brewing like cold shivers of electricity in the air. Even Jim and Oluwande were giving each other side eyes, pausing their hammering at the helm to dart their eyes to their side and trace the path of Izzy's line of sight.

It never wavered. Every time they looked, it never changed. He had spent the last two hours gaping sourly towards the edge of the quarter deck. Gawking solely at you, without a single movement, without a single flicker outside the bubble where you hunched.

You thought he was angry at you for arranging a special outing for Ed and Stede at Datura Grotto, finally indulging in finding a way for them to spend some time alone after your Captain had begged and hounded you for days; he had become so accustomed to bursting through doors trying to find you and ask for your help, that the poor daunted man nearly burst into tears when he smashed your bedroom door into your nose and nearly broke it. The rest of the crew believed he was plotting something: trying to pick out the quieter members of their friends first, as payback for being stuck on this so called 'straight out of Davy Jones' arsehole' of a ship for so long.

Izzy, though. Izzy knew he was smitten. And he fucking hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable.

Out of all the crew members still pretending to mill about, only Lucius was daring enough to purse his lips and look brazenly back at Blackbeard's first mate. Only Lucius, in fact, was feeling equally brave, and equally vexatious that fine afternoon to muster up the courage to slide up beside him. 'Someone in a bad mood today, are we?'. He taps the ships railing with the point of his nail, the broom he had been pretending to sweep splintered pieces off the floor a moment ago soon forgotten about as he leans it against the side of the ship. He replaces the loss by dropping his hand to his hip, cocking his head and smiling at an increasingly agitated looking Izzy. 'Would it have anything to do with that fine young sea farer over there by any chance? How romantic, Dizzy Izzy. Oh, I do love a good fix-me-up-'

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Izzy's quick to snap, not even bothering to look in Lucius' direction. 'Fuck off, before I do you a favour and cut that little seducing tongue out of your mouth for you.' Lucius watches Izzy's fingers tighten into leather clad black balls on the rope ladder, and doesn't need a second warning to trot off back towards his friends again. With a final wide eyed look of shock, he turns back to Black Pete and shrugs, holding his hands up as if to say that he tried his best.

All the while, you just keep your gaze steady out and onto the brewing horizon of the sea, watching as foam shook out like reaching hands around your ankles as they across cut through the wave crests, only the salty sting of thrumming silence keeping you company underneath his watchful gaze. The beaded necklace you had spent the last week or so threading together, carefully crafted by trembling fingers and a bit tongue during long evenings spent in your hammock, was beginning to feel like an anchor weight in your pocket. You tried to distract yourself with mundane, idle chit chat with a very thankful Lucius, who had swung over to your side after Pete convinced him to go scouting out for some more gossip. Swinging his legs between the latches of the port quarter, he merrily took the hammer you were idly holding from your hand and began to 'fix up the ship', his wrist barely moving as he turned to you with a scheming smile.

'So, do you know what's going on then? Why Izzy's acting like this? I swear, that man. If he doesn't bend over right now and try to get that stick out of his arse, he's going to be a miserable sad sack of repressed irritation forever. He's like a jack in the box. I swear to god, I'm just waiting for him to burst.' The tone of his voice sounds almost worried, but Lucius is smiling and waggling his eyebrows the whole while. 'That would be kind of funny, actually. I've always imagined him as a stamper. Or maybe a screamer-'

You have no idea what to say, not understanding Lucius' oh so unsubtle hints, so you just run your fingers over the bulge in your pocket once more and chime in to his rant from time to time with a disinterested 'hmm' or distracted 'oh, yeah. Definitely.' It really didn't help that you were beginning to blush the same champagne hue as the bubbles between your toes with how gravely Izzy was staring at the side of your face. It was growing increasingly harder not to give into the temptation: to not just swing your head around and meet his hard-set eyes head on.

Once he realises you're dead set on staying right there, away from him, hiding in the corner all day, he sighs and let's go of the sails, marching off to do another impromptu inspection of the boarded vessel. It's an easy distraction: yelling orders at Wee John, spitting insults at Roach as he scurries out of Izzy's way, stealing the Swede's cup out of his hand and spraying beads of coffee around Buttons' feet. All of it was a Grade A fantastic distraction, and Izzy was hell bent on forgetting just how quickly time had gone by that day: Ed and the moronic, sappy, massive twat of an arse Stede would be back from their foliage constitutional any minute now, and Izzy was acutely aware that he was running out of both minutes, and chances to ask you to take a walk with him on the island himself. He had spent far too much of the morning wasting away, leaning his back on Stede's antique armoire and watching you with crossed arms: like a weathered statue, the growing umbra he cast somehow seeming to reach its tendrils out and blanch the fringes of the doorway. Even Fang and Ivan had been too terrified to come near him, and so he had been left alone. A silent sentinel, trying to figure out why the fuck his heart was cracking against the cage of his ribs and tearing their ligaments to shreds.

You hadn't exactly made things any easier for the man: feeling so intimated, you had spent the whole morning begging your friends to whisk you away from him at the first sign of danger. Whether that meant ducking behind Frenchie's lute like a crab, or hiding like a bulky turtle under the large bit of crimson cloth Oluwande was fiddling with the tassels of, you had used any form of escape to save you from the embarrassment of having to be near him. To let him see how flustered you became just at the overwhelmingly intense pressure you felt in the air any time he swaggered over to your side: to hide the fact that your eyes would widen in abject horror, your breath hitching any time the back of his gloved hand would 'accidentally' brush against your wrist as he went on his merry way, pretending it was all by accident. That it was all just a little game to him.

Little did you know, that he was feeling exactly the same way. The one time he had dared to come over to you that day had been an unmitigated disaster. He thought he was being... well, as kind as he possibly could be by slapping you on the shoulder and saying 'how good of a job you're doing.' He was nodding his head between every word, that jilted, simpering smile on his face as he supplemented his sentiment with an incredibly heartfelt 'at least Y/n knows how to do a fucking thing on this ship, not like you lot of useless fucking fuckers they have to work with. The rest of you are embarrassing, really.' He went to walk away, the side of his wrist glancing against the back of your hand as he finished with a breathless 'you lot could learn a thing or two from Y/n.'

He had staggered away from you as if mortally wounded, tongue bitten between his teeth as he tried as nonchalantly as possible to make his way back to the stern of the ship. While you were busy trying to bury your head down into your chest and avoid the smirking faces of Lucius and Pete, you happened to notice from the side of your eye that with each step Izzy was ringing out his hand. To your surprise, he used his teeth to rip his glove off, tucking it under his armpit as he wrangled with his fingers; he couldn't stop every cell burning as if it had just been reeled under the bottom of the ship. Couldn't understand why his fingertips wouldn't stop shaking as he flexed them.

Lucius was right. He was about to erupt, and he wondered if he'd ever be alright again.

It took until the sun nearly bowing over the jaded unicorn surmounting the anterior of the Revenge for you to find the courage to finally slink away from your convenient hiding spot to go over to Izzy. Well, that and the feel of Lucius literally dragging you up by the wrist and giving you a well meaning shove in the back towards the helm.

'Oh, fuck me', Izzy hisses as he watches you approach, turning his back to you to hide how flustered he was becoming with each tugging step at his heart you take towards him. He nearly jumps high enough to fall face first off the side of the boat when he feels your hand tentatively tap his shoulder, but he manages to inhale sharply and compose himself as best as he can before he flicks his eyes to look at you.

'I-uh-', you swallow thickly, shakily drawing your hand away from him and tucking it behind your back. 'I-, uh. I, I mean, I-'. The two of you, a far change of pace from usual, can barely keep your eyes on each other.

You feel like throwing your shoe at Lucius when you register the all too familiar sing song-y chime of his voice murmuring 'say something!' from behind your back. 'Or I swear to god, I'll kiss the man for you!'

'Well, I-', you start again, shooting the most vicious glare you could strangle out of you back at your friend. With a final sigh, you continue: 'I saw your necklace, and I don't mean to pry- but since you're always wearing black, which of course is incredibly cool, I just- well, I thought it needed a burst of colour.' Without a second thought, you scramble to pull your makeshift necklace out of your trousers, and shove the glistening glass emeralds and burnished pearls into his fist.

'It's just a silly thing, really. I saw Stede fixing Ed's red fabric and I just thought... well, you don't have to wear it. It's just a trinket, it's stupid. Really, you don't have to wear it. I'm sorry-'. After a pause, the burning sensation is enough to make you turn on your heel and bashfully start to make a break for the Rec Centre, just to get as far away from him as possible.

'It's not just a trinket.' The softness of his tone, despite how harshly he sounds out the letters makes you swivel back in surprise. He takes the opportunity to take a step forward and grab onto your wrist. He tugs you closer, until you're standing dangerously close to him: if he were to inhale deeply now, to puff his chest out just a tenth of an inch, your belly buttons would be tightly pressed upon each other. You can already feel his buttons strain against your shirt as he whistles out through bunched teeth, the breath sharp and warm against the side of your jaw. 'Don't say that. Never say that. It came from you, so it's not-... just, don't say that.'

He blinks, slowly releasing his viper grip.

'I like it. I really do. Thank you.' He motions awkwardly with a flick of his fingers to the side of his neck. 'Would you mind? With the gloves, I'm... not very good with clasps. Haven't, haven't used one in a long time.'

You can't stop your head from nodding, feeling like a wound up spring toy as you unfurled his fingers again and took the gift back. With a final swallow, you try not to turn cerise as you gently roll down the collar of his shirt. It folds easily down over his vest, until your bare fingers are dragging over the naked line of skin on his neck, just teasingly hiding the tense muscles of his upper back.

'You really didn't have to do this for me, you know.'

'Yeah... but I wanted to. You're not as much of an arsehole as Stede tries to make out.' You manage out a giggle, before you're back to biting your bottom lip in concentration, brushing a few strands away from the back of his head.

He wants to say more, but his voice chokes in the back of his throat like rifting water, his mouth trembling as your fingers brush over the coiled grey hairs bristling at the nape of his neck. It feels like a red hot poker is being dragged across his skin; he shivers at the feeling, a tight coil rolling across his limbs before settling uncomfortably heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He looks like he's about to weep when you take a step back, reaching up with a final pat to make sure the little metal swallow that adorns the centre of your necklace is lying perfectly against his breast. You may have lingered there a little longer than necessary... long enough for your palm to begin burning against the firm muscle of his pec, and for Lucius to draw out an enunciated wolf whistle, but it was definitely worth it. Even the sound of Frenchie snickering from the barrel he was perched on down on the deck was drowned out by the thrumming toll in your ears: by the sound of Izzy's sharp breath piercing your ear as he wavered uneasily on the spot. He didn't want to move away from you, not yet. He could barely even hear them. For the first time in his life, he didn't even fucking care. All he could focus on, over the bridge of his nose - through the gentle curls of his tired eyelashes, was you.

He was intoxicated - but even worse, he was finally beginning to understand. By god, he wondered. What the fuck had you done to him? Could this really be what Edward feels? Could anyone, really, feel this much?

'I hear swallows are meant to bring good luck', you state with bated breath, fingering the charm you had picked up from a market stall at the Republic of Pirates for a final time. It had reminded you almost immediately of Izzy: a hidden treasure, glistening white-gold, like fresh sunlight flitting across the glitter combs littered across the sea beds. It had been well buried within piles of muck: old straw, rotten bits of moulding fruit, bloodied bones twisted into odd shapes that you could barely recognise, but it had been lying there. Waiting just for you. A needle in the haystack. The final piece of the puzzle.

Izzy's breath draws in sharply as you absentmindedly begin to brush your pointer finger up and up: tracing the edge of his jaw line before rolling over the same bird tattoo lacing his neck, your eyes still drawn to the gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

'Yes. Very good luck', he states, amazed he even found his voice. Surprisingly, he doesn't even try to pull away. He lets you trace your finger over the beak, gliding across the round belly until they're dancing teasingly over its tail. In fact, without his wonderous, dipped eyes looking away from you, he seems to be tilting his head in time, allowing you easier access to brush against his skin and steal his soul with every movement.

Before he has time to think of the repercussions of what he was about to do, the leather of his gloves flex around your cheeks and Izzy Hands has bowed his back down over you, lips knocking against yours. It's terse, and rather urgent in its forcefulness; it was both a slip of outrageous passion, and a terse reminder of his years out of practice feeling any sort of physical affection, and yet you couldn't help but brush up even closer to the man. He welcomes you eagerly, even though this eternity lasted only a moment: with his thumb, he tilts the jut of your chin up so he can lick his tongue against your bottom lip all the more easily. His knee slides forward until it knocks against your own, lurching you forward and saving him the embarrassment of having to voluntarily admit to his weakness and slide his other hand around the pulse point of your neck, until he was cradling the bone of your shoulder.

He finally draws back, his tongue darting out to lick along the edge of his top lip. 'Yeah, very lucky indeed.' He seems sorrowful to be letting go of you, but the loud whistling and snorting that begins to bounce back and forth between Stede's crew snaps Izzy back to himself. With a final glance back down to your lips, he struts off to pick up Lucius' long abandoned broom and starts chasing him across the ship with it.