#hiccup gets a fish kiss for now

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I want to shut Hiccup up with a kiss when he's upset about something.

End of the statement

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells pt 3

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,942

You need some cheering up.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel, bitter reader, bitter hiccup, cheery reader

<Previous -

You stared down into a shallow bucket, eyeing the slimy, slightly smelly body of a small fish as it bobbed with each one of your steps. It looked almost sick, nearly scraps, made slightly warm by the rising sun’s heat. It also smelt; its scales were flaking and somewhat muddy-looking, though you knew it was mostly clean- cosmetically, of course. For you, parasites were a constant worry.

  Your hands, now much more calloused than they ever had been, clutched at the thin, metal bucket’s handle. One of your sleeves had gotten stuck there as you trudged your way back from the docks and the one measly fish stand there. Getting it untangled was proving to be quite the task.

It was an old world that you’d been sent to, with untamed mountains and riled seas. It was unpredictable and dangerous, just as emotionless as every facet of it raged and roared. Each toil was made herculean, long and arduous not just by the times but by the sheer might and mystery of everything.

There was safety even in the dangers of the modern world, because at least the dangers were known, if not expected. More explored, less left up to the imagination- the untamed world was cruel, the might and anger of the ancient man even moreso.

As interesting as the loðinn-something-or-others were -or the Hairy Hooligans, as it was- they were a cagey, brutish people, even starved, or perhaps especially because they had been starved. 

The inhabitants of Berk were sparse and few in between, plagued by famine. What Vikings hadn’t been picked off by the dragons had been killed by the outcasts and thrown into the very literal fires by their very own brothers-in-arms.

Now, most of the huts were empty, some with the wood obviously burnt and rotting everything from the inside out.

You leaned over your knees, sitting on an old, unbalanced stool.

Their names were all stupid, anal- fitting, for a guy like Hiccup, but perhaps you were biased.

You heard the sound of shuffling leaves and dirt from outside right before the front door of the shack was pushed open, creaking and scraping against the dirt floor.

You knew who it was, marching inwards with semi-soft steps, muttering darkly to himself. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so stormy. It made you apprehensive, a tight grimace pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You listened as the sound of footfall migrated from soft ground to harder ground. You were even able to make out a stray ”-eta-leg-” something, which might have had something to do with fish. You almost thought to ask, but he was quite typically very apathetic towards most of your colloquialisms. 

There was a pause. “...What are you doing?”

“Making, ah, dinner.” You said, glaring up at him defiantly, your hands falling downwards.

“...Right.” he said, eyeing the sloshing water-bucket.

You grimaced. He could probably smell it- so deep in the woods, the hollowness of salt against the bark, mulch and scattered leaves was probably strong. Bringing water along was also perhaps not so good for the dead fish. Damp things rotted faster and made already smelly things that much worse.

How else were you going to boil out salt, if not with seawater? You weren’t sure if it was going to work but now was more of a time than any to try.

He grunted as he slung the heavy pack of whose-whatsit off his shoulder and dropped it heavily onto the ground, lanky shoulders flagging as he then dropped himself onto the wooden one-blanket-ed frame of his own bed.

He would sleep, maybe, until the next day. You weren’t very versed on his schedule. To you, it seemed to be odd and erratic. He didn’t do much besides slog his way to the forge and back and be an ass.

It wasn’t as if there really was a reason to go into town.

“The arena.” You announced, after a moment of hesitation, into the dark silence.

You’d been into the forge maybe once, leafing through haphazard papers like office files, parchment mostly blank and slightly scribbled over, hard to read in the darkness. Desperate. Hurried.

It wasn’t too different from the one in the woods but there were a few more stall doors and also it was surrounded by huts, which, in a way, made it all the more eerie.

 Out the forge window, briefly, you’d spotted a man, handlebar mustache, not unlike the kind you’d expect on the face of a biker with prickly cactus-looking scruff littering the round dip of his chin. 

You shifted, minding slightly dry, already wilted plants. They had been hastily shoved into your pockets. Modern seams had torn quickly, forcing you into shambled hand-me-downs. 

Hiccup grunted.

You huffed, looking up at him from downturned eyelids. You spoke, “You’re bringing me there.”

He walked past you and stopped just before his bed on the far side of the shack behind, much too long at the legs and the wooden supports at its base much too far apart. He also lacked anything to cover the holes between them, meaning that if you laid at the wrong angle, your bent elbows would dip between the boards. He grunted again, slinging one arm over his face irritatedly, “Do it yourself.”

You smothered a brief spike of irritation, forcing down a scowl. Do it yourself.

Soft highlights made up of the waning sun-glow bounced off nearly imperceptible hairs on the back of his hand. You kept quiet for a moment longer, deep in rumination. It was quite odd to notice something like that- most particularly because you wanted to pick all of them off and then punch him over the head.

Since the beginning, you’d been forced to learn how to cobble up your own dinner, your own bedding and everything else. He hadn’t helped, not really. Everything you had was your own doing, besides maybe the odd repair shack repair or so.

You really only existed under the same roof. If he tried to kick you out, well…

The only thing that had held you together was the idea that maybe, if he hadn’t been born and raised there, or if he hadn’t become so jaded and heavily disillusioned, he might have been good company, or maybe that was just pity talking. You didn’t know much about him, nor had you seen anything clever or brave and bright come from him yet. 

Optimism was a hard thing to carry, and in times like thesis, where you had nothing more than frustration to buzz at the tips of your fingers and an empty belly, you found that all your faux goodwill was crumbling. You felt it deep in your chest, nestled right where all your spine’s nerves speared into your heart.

Saying ‘it felt like a dream,’ had never carried the right connotations- it couldn’t fully encompass all of the things you felt or the way you needed what you were sure wasn’t even real; a place where hard ground was limited to the outside, where you had a soft mattress to cater to the line of your back, the way bumpy asphalt felt beneath your sneakers or the way an old, hot car bounced over ancient potholes in abandoned roads- something deep in you reached for it, and yet all of those solid things passed through your fingers like hot smoke.

Your real life now was much colder. You hadn’t known who he was at first, or even for weeks after. If you had been told about any of this beforehand, you might have expected him to look like a cartoon, but with the uneven stubble at his chin and the not nearly as aesthetic a shape to his face, he really was just a man.

You opened your mouth to speak as he turned away, showing his back to you as he faced the wall, but then you caught yourself. You were going to call a name, any name, but he didn’t like those, not really- he was quite snappish when it came to those, in fact.

Names were tricky things, of course.

You felt that you were walking a thin line, at times; balancing over a tightrope a million miles up from the ground like you’d been thrust into some stupid, old, gaudy cartoon. Which, you had been, and it was just as inane as you imagined.

Instead you listened to the sound of white noise and fabric-on-fabric as the slow rumbling of the forest faded into something that was almost silence. You heard yourself as you breathed and the bucket and the legs of your chair rattled under you. You heard your feet digging and making low noise against dirt.

You ignored a very pointed rock of the bed frame as he shifted. 

 You made a lot of noise, to say the least. You didn’t care, though you could practically feel the air grow stiffer as you struggled.

Finally, with a hard jerk, you were able to tug your sleeve out from the handle and the bucket. You could hear the sound of fabric tearing as you sat back just above the sound of shifting over the threadbare sheet behind you.

Feeling wholly satisfied with yourself, you grabbed the tail end of the fish, pulling it off the bucket with a splash. You pulled it into the air, listening to the sound of water sloshing as it settled, water sliding off bumpy skin in rivulets.

It was nasty- it felt nasty, as most fish did, and as if you could drop it at almost any moment. 

There was a small spit set up in the middle of the room like a rig, a shoddy smoke hole framed above it in the roof. As you shifted towards it, by accident, you kicked over your bucket, cursing under your breath

Your hands shot back down to the corners of your stool, calloused palms scraping against wood and scale, fish still clutched unpleasantly in one hand, wetting the edge of your sleeve as it rolled itself back down.

There was a heavy thump behind you, the sound of boot meeting ground and the loud, frustrated creaking of wood. It startled you as you stood and whipped around, your grip loosening- the fish flew out of your hand with  what was probably a lot more force than you expected, meeting Hiccup nearly lip-to-lip. 

Stubborn coughed and spat, fish slime glistening against the lower half of his face, “Can you- stop?”

You weren’t sure of any of the things that made up his voice and those rolling tones. Was it Scottish or Gaelic something, Norwegian, Danish or having something to do with the Swedes? Or was it a mix of all of the above?

All of their vowels were deep and hitting a sort of hard to reach tenor, Hiccup’s voice especially grated with all the nasal and grumpy worn-ness of all the burden of having to live in such an old time. 

Compared to the voices of everyone else, his was sort of high. It was not what you expected, watching an animated face through a gaudy screen. 

The berth of everything you lived through now made everything you’d known seem so much bigger. It made you sad… And angry. To say it lightly, you didn’t feel pity for… A lot of people. 

Seeing him choke on salt water and slime -If he’d ever made out with Astrid, whoever she was, here-  there was a joke to be made there, something about ‘macking on’ and mackerel. It made you happy.

“No.” You said, voice sounding not-very-dead or particularly serious.

[starlightxsvt]

Ruined | sibilance. 2

synopsis ➳ you are trying hard to move on from him. you thought it would be easy but you should have remembered. never underestimate jeon wonwoo.

pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x rich badboy!wonwoo

genre ➳ smut, slight angst, good girl bad boy trope ig

word count ➳ 4.7k

warnings ➳ drunk pi cheolin shenanigans, cursing, wonwoo being a toxic ex, jeonghan being a flirt, pussy eating, heavy makeouts, reader slaps wonwoo.

Chapter 1

The cold night air kisses your heated face, leaving behind a soothing feeling that you close your eyes and savour. 

From behind you, inside the restaurant, your colleagues continue chatting and laughing in loud voices, Mr. Pi's voice coming through particularly loud. As much as you enjoy having a drink or two with them after work, the noise was getting too much so currently, you are out here, getting some fresh air.

A figure moves beside you, catching your attention and you look to your left to see Jeonghan standing, a packet of cigarettes in his hand from which he pulls out one and puts it between his lips.

As he fishes into his pocket for something— a lighter you assume, his eyes meet yours and they flash with excitement as a smile kisses his lips. "Hey there. So you were here. I was wondering where you went to."

You laugh softly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your naked fingers from the cold. "Yep, had to take a break from Mr. Pi's chatter."

Jeonghan laughs, sneaking a glance at your boss through the window of the restaurant and shaking his head. "Oh my god, he is a character isn't he?" You notice him slowly putting the cigarette he took out back in its home. 

"I know right," you nod. "By the way," you jut your chin to the poison stick. "Don't stop on my account."

"Ah," he looks down at the packet in his hand and with a smile starts playing with it, moving it between his long, bony fingers. "Nah, I'm trying to quit anyway. And since I'm in the presence of a lady, I should not smoke." He flashes you a lovely grin, the usual teasing present in his voice. 

Classic Jeonghan. 

You shake your head in amusement, your eyes once again shifting to the packet in his hand. 

Wonwoo used to smoke. 

You begged him to stop, especially after seeing the harsh fit of coughs he would suffer from. 

Gosh, it has been almost a month since you last saw him. How is he doing? Has he gone back to smoking? 

Fuck, why do you still care so much?

“If you are really trying to quit, try keeping some lollipops with you,” you offer, giving him the same advice you gave Wonwoo. The man nods and hums thoughtfully but before he can reply, the conversation is interrupted by a sudden commotion. You both whip your head behind to see your three other colleagues supporting your drunk boss by holding him up as they step out of the restaurant, sighing and coaxing the intoxicated man to listen to them. He doesn’t. Instead, Mr. Pi sags lower, singing at the top of his lungs, “Chunsun-ie Chunsun-ie, my dear Chunsun-ie…” You cringe, shaking your head at him mentioning his ex for the hundredth time. 

Jeonghan rushes over, pulling the older man to his feet, “Oh dear, Mr. Pi, you are wasted, aren’t you? Let’s get you a cab.”

The man lifts him, easing the burden on your other colleagues who sigh and take a moment to catch their breath. Jeonghan, along with a few others, supports Mr. Pi to keep him standing and hails him a cab while a junior colleague walks to you to hand your purse that you left at your seat. 

As a colleague stands at the edge of the pavement, looking for a cab, your drunk boss tries to stand on his own even though his body keeps leaning from side to side. “You!” He points at you with a sudden burst of energy, making you jolt. “My most hardworking, most efficient employee!”

Oh boy.

“You get all the pretty boys, no?” He chuckles. “First the Chairman’s son and now our dear Mr. Yoon!” He hiccups, falling over to Jeoghnan’s side who catches him and flashes a rather amused smile at you.

You tuck your chin low and rub your temples out of embarrassment.

The older man continues, even louder this time, “You chose well! Our Mr. Yoon is a great man! The star of our firm! You guys would be— what do the kids call it these days?” He stops and furrows his brows, concentrating. “Oh, right, a power couple!” He chuckles some more.

“We would be,” Jeonghan humours him, throwing a wink at you. “You are so right, Mr. Pi. Oh look, your cab is here…”

You watch everyone help the boss into the cab and bid him farewell before heaving out a collective sigh of relief and saying their goodbyes. Then once again, silence settles and it is only you and Jeonghan.

His gaze locks with yours and he bursts out laughing. Soon, you follow, a pearl of laughter bubbling up from deep within your belly, so loud and free that you feel a tear form in your eye.

It has been a while since you have laughed like this. After ending things with Wonwoo, you had been feeling low, growing unsure about everything. Then, earlier this week, on Monday, showed up Yoon Jeonghan, a legend at your law firm who was at the Japan branch for the past two years. Charismatic, handsome and smart, Yoon Jeonghan is the perfect package, a natural scene stealer who brought joy to everyone in the office.

You are impressed by him, like everyone else and you consider it a blessing that you are working closely with him. His wits and tenacity were often talked about at the office and you always wondered how he would be as a person.

You were not disappointed.

“He is hilarious.” Jeonghan shakes his head, catching his breath after his laughs die down. You nod, still grinning. 

A silence settles as you two start walking side by side. Jeonghan’s warmth next to you is ever prevalent, as you two walk in tandem, the sound of your steps on the concrete in symphony. Sometimes, his arm brushes with yours and you take subtle peeks at his face to see if it was an accident. You find no answers in his visage.

“What do you think of that?” He voices after a long break of silence.

“About what?” You push up your glasses, looking at him. 

“Us, being a power couple.”

You flush, quickly averting your gaze, and pulling your muffler up to cover your chin. “Well, by power couple if you mean partners fighting crime then sure, I would love to.”

“But not romantically?” There is that familiar hint of tease in his voice.

You neither reply nor meet his gaze, focusing on the patterns of the asphalt decorating the pavement. 

Jeonghan sighs loudly. “Is it about the boy Mr. Pi mentioned? The chairman’s son?”

“Yes.” Your reply is short.

“Lucky guy,” he whistles. “Should have done better.”

You stop in your tracks to face the man next to you. “Mr. Yoon, are you flirting with me?” You raise a brow.

“Took you a while to figure that out, no?” He grins, his smile flirtier than ever. “Also, I told you not to call me that. Jeonghan is fine.”

The smile of amusement creeping up on your lips is hard to resist so you bite down on your bottom lip, searching for words to say.

You decide it is best to be frank and straightforward from the get-go. “I was in a…casual relationship with him. I’m not making that mistake again. I need someone serious.” You explain.

“And you think I’m not serious?” Jeonghan challenges, leaning closer to you.

You open your mouth to reply but shut it immediately when a familiar figure appears in your peripheral vision. Your eyes trace the figure and your heart sinks when you realise who it is.

Wonwoo.

On the other side of the road, in front of the large convenience store, stands Wonwoo. The hoodie and the long coat he is wearing cover most of his frame and you might have not noticed him if it were not for the piercing gaze trained at you. 

He stands there, still as a statue, the lights of the convenience store behind him casting weird shadows on his face that do not take away the slightest of his beauty.

What are the chances?

Your heart is galloping.

Frozen in your place, your hands clench into tight fists as the tiny, rational part in your brain screams at you to walk away right now. 

Beside you, Jeonghan notices the shift and follows your gaze, looking at Wonwoo, who has now taken notice of the man next to you. Even from a distance, you can see the look in his eyes change as they become sharper and darker, focusing intently on Jeonghan. You know that look far too well. 

The look of violence.

Suddenly, you find the strength to move your legs. Prying your gaze off of him, you look at your colleague and speak as calmly as possible. “Mr. Yoon, let’s get a cab from the next block. Come on.” 

You take brisk steps ahead, not sparing another glance at Wonwoo. Jeonghan follows you and thankfully does not ask any questions.

—

Your hands stroke the top of his head, fingers combing through his soft fluffy hair in soothing patterns. His face remains pressed at your core, comfortably fitting between your legs as you lie on your back on your bed. A particular harsh suck on your core have you throwing your head back in pleasure, a long drawn out moan escaping your lips. 

He raises his head to look at you, a lazy, lustful shine sparkling in his gaze that has your heart and pussy throbbing. Your wetness coats his lips and chin, evoking a deep depravity within you. 

“Please.” You whisper.

“What do you want, princess?” He hums, the rich velvet of his voice wrapping around you luxuriously.

“M-make me come, please.”

“As you wish.” He flashes that dashing smirk of his, making you swoon.

His index and middle fingers slide inside you again, nestled between your tight walls. He curls his fingers, hitting that sensitive spot hidden inside you while his thumb brushes over your clit gently, making your whole body shiver.

“Fuck…” You pant, eyes squeezed shut, fingers gripping the bedsheets in an unrelenting hold. 

“You like it?” He coos.

You eagerly nod your head.

Wonwoo leans closer to your face his breath fanning your ear as whispers, “Say it. Say how good I make you feel.” His thumb presses into your hard bud, making you squeal.

“I love it! I love your fingers inside me!”

“Yeah?” A harsh breath falls from his lips, his heated eyes boring into you. “You like this?” His fingers pick up pace, moving so swiftly inside your walls, that the coil in your belly is about to snap any moment. You climb and climb, body taut and awaiting the sweet orgasm you can taste until…

You wake up in a cold sweat.

Disoriented, you look around and find yourself in your bed, still dressed in your work clothes.

Fuck, you came home and slept right away only to see that man haunt your dreams too.

You swallow, hands clutching the material of your bedsheet when you realise you are drenched through your underwear. 

Fuck, Jeon Wonwoo. Why can’t you just leave me alone?

—

You are back at Jeon Industries for a meeting with the chairman. 

The entire meeting room is crowded with the members of the legal team, all gathered to be briefed about the upcoming joint venture between Jeon Industries and a foreign company so that the legal documents can be prepared. 

The people are in especially high spirits today because Jeonghan has joined the team. A member of the legal team recently quit and Mr. Pi had Jeonghan take his place immediately, saying that he is the perfect fit. 

He controls the attention of the room as everyone gathers around him to hear about his adventures overseas with rapt fascination. You watch from your seat with amusement, occasionally taking sips of your coffee and listening to his story. 

You did not have a good sleep last night and the previous two nights, for obvious reasons. Meeting Wonwoo randomly on the street while returning home from having drinks to end the week was not on your bingo card. What bothers you is how much that small meeting has affected you. Why are you still sitting here, thinking about him? Was obsessing over him the entire weekend not enough?

Ugh.

You drag your palm across your face out of frustration when the door to the room opens and the chatter dies down, followed by respectful greetings. 

Chairman Jeon enters, followed by his secretary, nodding and murmuring a greeting. As you all take your seats— Jeonghan next to you, the door opens again and this time, Wonwoo saunters in. 

A sudden jolt of anxiety flashes from your head to toe as you feel your limbs grow heavy and unresponsive. Only your eyes move, following his every movement with trepidation. 

The chairman appears surprised upon his son’s arrival and you notice the apprehension in his gaze too. “I did not know you were coming.” He says curtly.

The atmosphere is charged, everyone in the room collectively holding their breath as if waiting for something to happen, except Jeonghan, of course, who looks between the father and son with inquisitiveness.

Wonwoo, after long moments of glaring at his father, casually pulls a chair and sits down on the other side of the table, a little to the right. “Go on, continue with your meeting. I’m here to merely observe.” He says, his eyes trained on you.

The chairman’s assistant starts the presentation but you fail to process much of what he is saying. All thanks to Wonwoo’s intense glare that is fixed on you, giving you goosebumps as little beads of perspiration form on your neck. Unable to resist yourself, you sneak glances at him and each time, it steals your breath away.

He does not blink. He does not move.

His eyes are filled with emotions, appearing sharper and deeper than usual which makes your breath stutter. You imagine this is how a wolf looks like to a deer about to become prey. You always thought Wonwoo resembles a wolf, in more ways than one.

Wait, what was this meeting about, again?

Fuck, you may pass out at this point.

Thankfully, Jeonghan breaks your train of thought by asking for your attention on a note he made on his laptop, pushing the screen of the device at such an angle that it interrupts your clear vision of Wonwoo. You gladly welcome the distraction, trying your very best to divert your attention to what your colleague is saying and pushing your chair back just a tad bit so that your peripheral view of Wonwoo is completely blocked.

The meeting ends sooner than expected, much to your relief.

While Chairman Jeon talks to Jeonghan, the other members clear out of the room, except Wonwoo, of course, who stands on the other side of the table, carefully looking at your direction. You try to ignore him to the best of your ability which is futile, honestly because there is no way your body can not feel his scalding gaze.

“It is a pleasure to have you with us.” The chairman says, shaking your colleague's hand. “I have heard great things about you from your boss.”

“Trust me, the honour is mine.” Jeoghan smiles, bright and friendly, the skin around his eyes crinkling. The morning light peers into the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting beautifully on his blond hair and casting an almost angelic glow around him. 

“We also have you on our team,” The chairman nods in your direction and you stand up straighter and push your glasses over the bridge of your nose. “She is a very diligent employee of mine. With you two on board, I’m sure I won’t have much to worry about.”

“Rest assured, sir,” Jeonghan promises. 

As the chairman walks out of the room with his secretary on his tail, he stops on the way, saying something to Wonwoo that you cannot decipher. Like always, their conversation appears tense and judging from the expression on Wonwoo’s face you can tell it is nothing pleasant. Wonwoo dismissively walks past his father and towards where you and Jeonghan stand, earning a glare from the older man before he takes his leave.

As Wonwoo approaches nearer, you chew on your lower lip, rubbing your sweaty palms behind your back as you think of a way to excuse yourself.

Jeonghan initiates the conversation by extending his hand. “Mister Jeon Wonwoo, a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Yoon Jeonghan.”

Wonwoo looks at his hand and then his face before gazing at his hand again with a bored expression as he makes no move to remove his hand from his coat pocket. For one too many horrible seconds, you are terrified Wonwoo will not shake his hand as you watch with bated breath. Jeonghan keeps his arm extended, sporting a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but instead indicates a hint of challenge.

You feel like you are about to pass out when finally Wonwoo shakes his hand, making you heave a small sigh of relief.

“If you are facing any trouble or concerns, feel free to contact me anytime,” Jeonghan says, fishing out his card from his wallet and handing it to Wonwoo. He holds it between his index finger and thumb and observes it for a while before meeting your colleague’s gaze. “Hm, interesting. Are you implying something, Mr Yoon?”

Oh boy, you don’t like this tone.

Before Jeonghan can reply, you insert yourself between the two men and look at him, “Mr Yoon, we are getting late for office. Let’s go.” 

“You are too mean,” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through, his fox-like eyes trained on you with an intensity that makes every other thought in your brain slip away. “I understand that we agreed not to…see each other but you are straight up ignoring me. I am hurt.” His tone is light, almost playful, maybe even sarcastic, a complete juxtaposition to the fiery look in his eyes, his gaze ignited with accusation and some loathing.

You wrack your brain for an answer and end up futile, only getting lost in his hypnotic stare that somehow sucks you into a completely different dimension, transcending time and space where it is only you and him and the haunting memories.

A sudden, loud tune echoes through the room, jolting you back into your senses as you look behind to see Jeonghan fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to take this. You go on without me.” The man explains, walking a few feet away from you to attend the call. You take that chance, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you brush past Wonwoo, not even glancing at him and making a beeline down the hallway.

You make it to the elevator, securing yourself inside it and as the doors are about to close, a foot sticks through them, making you shriek and step back.

The doors reopen and Wonwoo casually walks in with his hands in his pockets. As he presses the button and the doors close, you move as far away from him as possible, gathering yourself to a corner and looking down, trying to make yourself as small and invisible as possible.

A pathetic attempt, honestly.

As the elevator slowly starts descending from the twentieth floor, Wonwoo's deep voice cuts through the silence. He utters your name softly, wreaking havoc both in your mind and your body as you feel your knees tremble. 

You are fucked.

Carefully, you look up to see Wonwoo standing in front of you, too close for your liking, his large build towering over your frame. He takes a step closer as you instinctively press yourself against the wall despite knowing there is no place left to go. His eyes, dark and breathtaking, pierce through you, appearing calm but turbulent at the same time.

You feel hot all over, your heart galloping stronger than a racehorse, your legs trembling, your fingertips itching to touch his face and trace the hard lines while also wanting to turn into the air and dissipate. “Wonwoo…” You whisper, a breath of a sound really, so quiet it is almost inaudible even to yourself.

The next moment, Wonwoo smashes his lips with yours. As if you calling his name was a trigger.

You are pressed flat against the elevator wall as Wonwoo’s entire body envelops yours in an addictive sense of comfort. Your tongue tangles with his, tasting the familiar and addictive taste of him after so long. His presence, his scent, his hold, his taste— everything is like a balm to your agonised soul as you feel yourself sinking deeper into his touch.

Until you remember everything that happened and the promise you made to yourself.

Until you realise…you are kissing him back.

Your hands suddenly move on their own accord and mustering all your strength, you push him hard on his chest, shoving him away from you as if you have been electrocuted. You pant, harsh, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, inhaling lungfuls of air and then, without thinking, you strike him across the face.

The slap rings through the silence which suddenly amplifies when you realise what just happened. Wonwoo slowly looks at you, his hand reaching up to touch his smarting cheek, an impassive look settling in his eyes. There is a hint of a smirk on his lips but it is unlike his usual one as he scoffs with a subtle tilt of his head. His eyes glimmer with betrayal but along with that, there is that unmissable spark of arrogance that matches the cocky twist of his lips— like he was amused by the kiss you two shared.

You almost want to smack him again but there is guilt blooming in your chest, freezing your hands.

You kissed him back, right? It was not entirely his fault.

Before you can say something— explain or apologize, the doors open and Wonwoo is gone like a swift spring breeze. 

You are still huddled in a corner, your hand over your heart, trying to calm the erratic beats as unshed tears blur your vision.

—

1 WEEK LATER

You take the private elevator down with Jeonghan after finishing the early morning meeting at Jeon Industries' head office. The contract has been successfully prepared and reviewed by the chairman so a huge burden is off your shoulders, yet you are more unnerved than ever.

You heard a rumour going around the members of the legal team this morning.

Apparently, Wonwoo has joined the company, not as the president or vice president but as a junior employee of the marketing team. Word on the street says that the Chairman has ordered him to work there for three months to prove himself before he gets a chance to take over the company.

It sounds like a bunch of nonsense to you. The Wonwoo you know would never do that. He hated the idea of working at his father's company. He always treated it as only his father’s, not something he could inherit or lead in the future. 

“Do you think the gossip is true?” You find yourself asking as you stand next to the elevator.

The blond haired man turns his head to look at you. “About the Chairman’s son working here?”

You nod your head, staring at the floor.

“Who knows,” he hums. “You are a lawyer. You should only believe in facts, you know.” He playfully shoves you with his shoulder making you smile softly.

Right.

The doors open and you walk out along with Jeonghan into the lobby. It is a little past nine and the floor is still crowded with people clocking in for work. As you navigate your way through the crowd, you are forced to stop in your tracks when you see someone approaching from the other side.

It is none other than Wonwoo. 

He is dressed formally; in a baby blue shirt covered by a navy blue suit and pants, paired with a steel framed glasses that do nothing to diffuse the sharpness of his gaze. With his hair slightly shorter than before and falling over his forehead like a curtain, he appears more boyish and approachable, a stark contrast to the image of him you are used to.

And as you dreaded, he does not miss you amidst the crowd, his eyes locking with yours as you inhale sharply.

With a sickly sweet smile, he walks closer to where you stand and you instinctively try to hide yourself behind Jeonghan in a stupid attempt to avoid him.

“The gossip turned out to be true, huh?” Jeonghan begins the conversation as Wonwoo stands in front of the two of you.

Avoiding eye contact with Wonwoo, you observe his outfit, noticing the messenger bag slinging from his shoulder and the cardboard carrier holding four coffees in the other. 

He is really playing his part, huh.

Wonwoo chuckles. “It seems so, Mr. Yoon.” Then, he tilts his head to look at you, “Guess we will be bumping into each other every now and then, Miss Lawful.”

Miss Lawful?

You look away, the vivid memories of the kiss you shared last week suddenly flooding your mind. 

Sensing the tension, Jeonghan attempts to diffuse it and looking at you, he says. “Let’s get going, shall we? We have a meeting.”

“Hold it, blondie, I am not done talking to her.” Wonwoo snaps.

What?

A shiver runs down your spine as you gape at him, your jaw slack at his brazen attitude. It is like a glimpse into the old Wonwoo masked beneath this new attire. 

He did not just call Jeonghan that.

You know your colleague and you are well aware that he isn’t someone to back down or take insults lightly, which means this could very well turn into a fight right here. So, with all your might, you grip his arm and look into his eyes, hoping he sees the helplessness in yours. “Mr. Yoon, could you please wait outside for me? Please.”

The man clearly wants to say more but instead, he just nods and pats your arm. Looking at Wonwoo, who is glaring at him, he flashes a charming smile which is undoubtedly fake before walking away.

A small sigh falls from your lips.

“What is wrong with you? What are you doing here like this? What do you want?” You hiss under your breath, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

Wonwoo smirks. “So many questions you have. I am afraid I won’t answer them.”

You grit your teeth. “That is fine. As long as you mind your own business, we are fine, Wonwoo. Besides, you never wanted to work here. I doubt you’ll be here for long.”

Wonwoo grins. “That is where you are wrong. People change, you know.”

“Right.”

“Like you did.” Wonwoo continues, leaning slightly closer to you. “Do you enjoy fucking him? Do you imagine me when you are with him?”

Absolutely stunned and slack-jawed, you blink at him, almost not believing he just said that. 

You are hurt and angry at the same time. Conflicted about what to do with the emotions rushing through you, you look up at the high ceilings and take a deep breath, tightly gripping the handle of your bag as you try to summon some strength. “Mr. Jeon Wonwoo,” you start, “We are in a professional setting. Do not cross your lines.”

The man scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

You bite your lip, hoping the pain will be a strong enough distraction. “I was going to apologize for slapping you the other day but if you keep behaving like this—”

“What will you do?” He sneers, cutting you off. “Sue me? I don’t need your apologies, ___.”

Your name on his tongue is like a forbidden word, sending shivers down your spine. It is unfair how good, how sinful it sounds and you hate how it stops your entire world, forcing you to focus only on him.

When was the last time he called you by your name?

Enough!

You sigh. “For the sake of old times, Wonwoo. Please, just stop. Let me move on.”

“Never.” It is a promise. You see it in his eyes, the way they burn, leaving a mark deep in your soul, branding you for life. “I will never let you go. Remember that.”

He walks past you, his shoulders brushing with yours.

You are ruined. 

series masterlist

A/N: so that was chapter 2! we now have jeonghan to make things interesting 👀 I'd love to hear your thoughts on toxic ex wonwoo and flirty colleague jeonghan! my asks are always open so drop by! i haven't started working on chapter 3 but hopefully it will be out within the first week of december. as always, like, reblog and leave a comment. toodles! <3 (it's my bday but this is my gift to y'all, i really hope you enjoyed tehee)

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Nat x fem!reader

𝐖����𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, dom!Nat, sub!reader, corruption, virgin!reader, oral, fingering, praise, inexperienced reader, slight manipulative Nat,

𝐀/𝐍: I don’t know about that one 😭

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Natasha watched you closely, like she always did when she was visiting your father, and each time you got prettier in her eyes. You were 19, 20 at best, and Natasha was a grown woman in her late thrusts lusting after you but she couldn’t help it. Not when you wore those short shorts which barely covered anything. Or when you were reading a book by the pool as Natasha helped your father. How she had wished to just take you there and then not caring about your father being around.

She almost choked when she saw your phone number suddenly pop up on her screen one chilly evening.  She had given you her number in case you ever needed her quickly. I smirk tugged on her lips when she heard you say, you needed her help because your father wasn’t at home. The chance she had been waiting on for months now. She speeds the way down to your fathers house, barely keeping her thoughts on the road.

She parked her car in the driveway and you already stood at the door, your lip caught under your lips as if you were nervous. “Caught something on fire?” She joked, approaching you with fast steps. “this is gonna sound really stupid but I- I took off my necklace and put it on the side of my skin and it somehow ended up down the drain” She had to laugh which made you even more embarrassed about you. “Don’t blush… I’ll get it out in a second”

“So where’s your daddy, mhm?” She asked, knowing you couldn't guess her attention, as she opened the screw nut around the trap with a pair of pliers. “Away for work for the weekend” Natasha hummed, moving on to the next nut “So she left you all alone here” It took a few seconds to answer after all you were looking at her flexing biceps which were revealed by the white wife beater she was wearing. “Mhm” you only hummed, too lost in admiring the older woman. 

She bumped the sink trap out in the bucket and could immediately spot the golden chain you had lost before. She fished it out with skilled hands. “There you go princess” She handed you the necklace, knowing fully well the nickname made your stomach feel funny. Silence took place as she reinstalled the trap under the skin until you broke it again “I really don't know how to thank you” You muttered your lips still in a pale pink color. She stilled while washing her hands clean from the dirty skin water. This was her chance 

“Well I do have an… idea” She wiped the hands on her washed out jeans. “How about a kiss?” She asked, closing the gap between the two of you. “I know how you look at me… are you shy, baby?” You had to nod, your hands shaking as you put them on her chest. “Can I kiss you?” If she was already leaning in your lips only inches away “Yes” Your lips meet, she kissed you with a passion which had you holding your breath the entire time. Her hands found your hair slightly pulling on it to get you to open your mouth. Her tongue forced itself inside your mouth making you let go of a moan you didn’t know you were holding. She bit down on your lip pugging on it. 

She was so much more experienced than you and you couldn’t help but melt under her touch. “Mhm your mouth tastes so good” She hummed licking over your neck to get more taste of you. “I bet you are a virgin right baby?” She knew she couldn’t leave any obvious marks on your neck, your father would get suspicious. “Y- Yes” You hiccup, feeling her teeth over your neck. 

She had you undressed on the bed spread as Natasha inspected your awfully wet pussy. You were embarrassed by it, trying to cover herself up. “N- Natasha” you whine trying to close your legs but she held them open. “No, no, no baby you keep them open… don’t be so embarrassed you're so pretty” She leaned down to kiss your pubic bone before she dove into your pussy, managing to salvor the most beautiful sound from your throat possible.  

“I’m gonna eat you out so good baby” She mumbled into your cunt, but you were so confused by how she made you feel. Never before had you felt that way but you didn’t want her to stop. Her tongue felt so good, so wrong. “Do you like me fucking your virgin cunt baby” She mocked her fingers held your folds open. You nodded desperately, trying to close your legs yet again, she caught them again. “Keep them open stupid slut” She spat, her words didn’t hurt they only made you wetter. 

“Feels weird” You mumbled your head in the pillows not sure if you were about to moan or cry from the overwhelming sensation. Natasha ignored you; she was too focused on feasting on you. The fact that she was your first only made it hotter for her, she took your clit in your mouth making you see stars as the first sob broke from your raw throat. She snuck one of her fingers inside and you were already full. “Fuck baby, we need to stretch that pussy out before you can take me” You looked at her confused of the pleasur lost in moans, whimpers and cries. “Natasha that feels so funny” She hushed you curling her finger “Your gonna cum baby, be a good girl cum on my fingers, just let go” She mumbled against your skin as. As you let go you felt the liquid shooting out of you making you want to bury yourself, had you just? “Damn baby your a squirter” She smiled proudly “That’s a good thing baby, that's so hot” she reassured her “Really?” “Mhm, you did so good baby” She kissed your neck, let me clean you up and then we can cuddle okay baby?”

:)

@jolyssereed

[moonstruckme]

Oh my god congrats on 7k!!! So so SO deserved in every way imaginable

Could I request apple pie prompt #28: dark lipstick smeared on a cheek with Sirius???

Thank you lovely!!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 731 words

It’s embarrassing, how much time you spend in front of the mirror before Sirius arrives. You fix and fiddle until you’re nearly unrecognizable to yourself, until your face is a word you’ve said too many times and it’s lost all meaning. You started out with more eyeshadow than you have on now, then you’d wiped that off and tried out a lip technique you’d seen in a tutorial online. You’ve used one makeup wipe already, front and back and all folded up to get to the clean corners, and you’re honestly still not sure if what you’ve ended up with is decent or if you just can’t look at it properly anymore. You hope your dress is enough to distract Sirius if it’s horrid. 

You’re seriously considering wiping it all off and starting over again when the doorbell rings. Your heels click on the floor as you hurry to answer it. 

Sirius looks surprised when you open the door, as if he hadn’t expected to find you on the other side. “Hi,” he says. 

You smile anxiously. “Hi.” 

He’s wearing a suit, which you’d been expecting but bowls you over nonetheless. Sirius manages to make it look both formal and relaxed, his dark hair tucked behind his ear on one side and his jacket unbuttoned suavely. 

Remus claims it isn’t a big deal, this banquet his university is having, but it is. It is for Remus, because he’s receiving an award, but also (privately, selfishly) for you, because this is the first thing you’ve gone to with Sirius as his date. You’ve been on dates, and you’ve already met his friends, which he says was the important thing, but part of you is savoring the privilege of this. That he’d asked you to Remus’ event as his date. 

“Hi,” Sirius says again. He blinks at you, slow and hard. 

Shit. 

“It’s too much, right?” You take a step back from the door, hand itching for a makeup wipe. “I can take it off quickly, we’ll still have time to make it. I’ll do something simpler.” 

“No,” he says, “don’t change it, it’s…it’s nice.” 

You cringe at the hesitation in his tone. You catch your reflection in the mirror by the door, panicked and overdone, as you turn back towards the bathroom. “I promise it won’t take long. I don’t know what I was thinking, the lips are way too much.” 

Sirius’ fingers wrap harshly around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t you fucking touch the lips,” he says. 

His eyes catch yours in the mirror. You’re frozen. Once it’s clear you’re not reaching for the wipe anymore, Sirius loosens his grip, fingers skimming up to your shoulder and toying absently with the strap of your dress. He looks almost caught in a daze. 

“Fuck.” He expels a breath. “I wish I could kiss you without fucking them up.” Your lips part in surprise, and Sirius closes his eyes like he can’t look at it. He compromises by dropping his lips to your shoulder. He kisses the bare skin reverently. “You look stunning.” 

Your heart hiccups. “Really?” 

You realize the second after you’ve asked that it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, but Sirius doesn’t seem to care either way. He meets your gaze in the mirror again. 

“Very,” he says. His brows bunch as if in distress. “You’re killing me, gorgeous. I can’t decide whether to go to Remus’ thing and show you off or keep you here to myself.” 

You laugh. It dislodges some of your nerves. “We’re definitely going to Remus’ thing,” you say to him. “He’s winning an award.” 

“He’ll win other awards, won’t he? He’s brainy.” 

“I also didn’t get dressed up like this to stay in.” 

“Much sounder reasoning,” Sirius admits. He sighs dramatically. “Okay, but do me a favor and give me a smacker so those pretentious shits know we’re together, yeah?” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “A smacker?” 

“A kiss, doll.” 

“I know what you mean,” you laugh. “You want me to get lipstick on your face right before this posh dinner?” 

“If it looks half as good on me as it does on you, sweetheart,” he gives a winsome crack of a smile, “no one will have a bad thing to say about it.” 

You decide it’s not worth arguing with him. Your dark lipstick looks very pretty on his cheek all evening.

[inkdrinkerworld]

for soft beefy!james... he’s so the type to cry when you cry. like you come to him in tears and immediately he’s pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his big hands, using his thumbs to brush away your tears and asking you what happened... getting teary when you sob even if it’s over something frivolous bc it hurts his heart. idk if this is anything, feel free to just ignore but i love the way you write your beefy!james <3

oh my goodness!! this is perfect!!! mention of hate from super fans of rugby but not descriptive

he's just come back from training when he hears the hiccupping breath. it's not often that james is greeted with your tears and he feels his chest constrict at the sound of them.

"angel?" he calls, toeing off his shoes as he ventures further into the living room for you.

you're laying on your side, face halfway smushed into a pillow as your body shakes with your sobs.

"angel, what's wrong?" he asks, dropping to his knees before you. james' hands are gentle where they wipe away the racing tears.

he can feel his own emotions rising, feeling the pinpricks of tears pooling behind his eyes.

you heave a breath, clearly trying to speak. james gives you time, "m'not-" you pause, inhaling deeply, "saw that stupid advert, the one with the dogs in the shelter."

james coos, picking you up easily and fitting you in his lap as he sits on the floor. you twist in his lap and say, "m'gross jamie, got tears and snot all over my face."

james manages a laugh, though it's not his usual one. "no you don't," he kisses your tear stained cheek. "you sure the advert was the only thing?"

his hand rubs your back, waiting for your answer. you deliberate while you twist at the hem of his shirt. "saw the messages under that post," james knows which one you're talking about instantly. "s'not very nice."

james feels the pinpricks again and nudges your face with his nose. "want me to do something about it?" he knows you're a big girl, that you can handle your own battles, but james hates the ideas that some of the teams' fans can be vile.

"no no," your tone is firm. james still wants to fight it though, he wants to let is be known that it isn't alright. "it'll pass right?" you ask, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at james.

"course it will," he kisses your forehead, fishing his phone from his pocket.

"jamie, what are you doing?" you yawn through the words and james knows that if he doesn't get up now, you're both going to remain on the floor during your nap.

"making sure you're okay, angel." he selects a photo of you from his camera roll- one of you in his team's hoodie as you watch the game at home.

"can i?" he asks, just to be sure. your nod is hesitant. a kiss is pressed to the column of his throat in thanks.

it's a picture that his mum had taken the last time he had an away game that you couldn't go to.

'biggest supporter, biggest love xx' is the caption, james kissing your teary face one last time before standing up.

"let's go take a nap, angel;" he holds you to his chest as he walks to the room. "i love you." you kiss him, soft and slow, and a little sticky from where your tears have met his dry cheeks.

"i love you too, jamie."

[kykyonthemoon]

rafayel and xavier with a reader that gets so stressed out she breaks down sobbing? 🥹

(and zayne if you want)

Soothing

Thank you for requesting!

🌻 Character x F!Reader

Masterlist

Part 2 - Comforting (for Sylus & Caleb)

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

When you entered the studio, Rafayel was resting on the sofa with his eyes closed.

“You're back already? How was the meeting with your old friends?"

He got to his feet just in time to witness the pearl-like tears that were cascading from your eyes. You quickly wiped it away, but Rafayel immediately came to your side and held your wrist.

"What's wrong? Did someone bully you?”

You hiccuped loudly. Rafayel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his arms. "Tell me. Who dares to make my bodyguard cry?

You leaned against Rafayel, a cheek pressed against his chest. His heart rate shot through the roof, then steadily stabilized. The sound of his heart pounding was what you loved listening to, as it soothed you.

Waiting for your sobbing to pass, then you added:

“Sometimes being around other people is so tiring.”

Rafayel took a small step back. His hands circled your neck and raised your chin just enough to make you meet his gaze.

“Are… Are you sick of me? You're about to leave me again, is that true?"

You had to giggle at the pathetic and sulky look on his face. Rafayel was drawn closer by your arms encircling his hips, and you said:

"No. I'm talking about my group of friends. As for you, Rafayel, you are not even human.”

“That's right.” Rafayel exclaimed as his face brightened. “Then you don't have to be sad. If you no longer have friends on land, you still have fish in the aquarium, and in the sea. Fishies are waaaayyyy better than humans. Especially a particular fish that knows how to draw, sing and make you laugh.”

This time you laughed out loud, cracking in the room filled with Rafayel's artwork. He was right; you always had him and the ocean for company. You did not have to try to please everyone, but just the people who were most important to you.

“Thank you, Rafayel.” With a little tiptoe, you kissed his cheek, causing his face to flush.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

As soon as you left the practice area, you caught a glimpse of Xavier waiting outside. You did your best to conceal the tears that were ready to fall, but they were still visible to him.

“What's the matter?”

"Nothing." With a forced smile, you replied. Of course, Xavier did not believe that.

“Are your test results not good?”

He had got you, so you just stared down at the ground. You were trying my best to stay calm, but all you wanted to do was cry out loud in his arms.

Seeming to know that, Xavier pulled you close. His hand gently stroked your hair, pausing now and again to pat your shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

“I… I've been practicing for months… And yet… I still couldn't pass that test…”

"It's not that bad. There haven't been many Hunters who had successfully completed that test. No need to be so harsh with yourself. You did very well, and you are always the best Hunter.”

Feeling Xavier's arms tighten, you sobbed again. It wasn't enough to simply aspire to the top; you also wanted to succeed in every test and every challenge. Given Xavier's level of expertise as a Hunter, you wanted to show that you were strong enough to accompany him and shield him without letting him worry about you everywhere, all the time.

Xavier waited for you to finish crying before gently suggesting:

“You know, getting plushies from claw machines is also a way to practice skills.”

“You just said that to cheer me up.”

However, when you thought about the cute plushies waiting to be taken home, you suddenly felt calmer. Why not, when the most adorable plushie in the world was standing in front of you, eyes wide open as if he was pleading with you to accompany him to the arcade?

“Are you sure you want to miss the special edition plushies this week?”

Xavier asked. You replied with a shake of your head.

"Of course you won't. Let's go then. The greatest Hunter in Linkon cannot be outplayed by any claw machine."

With a smile on your face, you held his hand. You might have failed this test, but you already won Xavier's heart.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You did not say anything to Zayne the whole way home. Yet Zayne remained silent, concentrating on driving without even asking you a single question, even though he knew just by looking at your face, you had had a very bad day.

The intense work made you exhausted. You had been under constant stress for around two weeks straight. The number of Wanderers appearing more and more seriously caused you to take on extra shifts, but that was nothing compared to the paperwork you had to report, or the secret meetings that lasted for hours.

Somewhere in your crazy schedule, you still hoped to receive a call, a text message from Zayne. But when you saw nothing on the phone screen, your heart sank even though you knew Zayne's work was very busy these days.

In any case, you were grateful that he took you home and agreed to cook dinner for you today. You decided not to let your stress bother him. But as soon as he put the bag of food on the kitchen counter, Zayne pulled you back and gave you a strong embrace from behind.

“Z-Zayne?” You were startled and couldn't move because he held you so tightly.

“Now, can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

His whispering voice and his warm breath made one of your ears turn red. You were confused:

“You noticed?...”

There was a sigh coming from behind you. Zayne let go of you, then turned you around to face him.

“I didn't ask, because I expected you to tell me everything only when you wanted first.”

The number of patients visiting Akso Hospital has also increased dramatically in recent days. Regular overtime work was required of Zayne. Yet he still maintained a calm attitude in all situations. Every day and every hour, he always tried to be better, to save more people. You should do the same and become stronger.

You sat up straight to look into his eyes. A smile flashed across Zayne's lips. He lifted your chin and wiped your face with a tissue.

"Do not be sad. A smile is much better on your face."

[milaisreading]

Kisses and hugs do make a difference

Warnings: Reader uses she/her, but since she is crossdressing, guys refer to her as he/him. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"(Y/n), why are you crying?" The 4 years old girl hiccups and looked up at her mom who was sending a sympathetic smile.

"I was playing with the football dad got me and fell down. Now my knee hurts." The girl started sobbing again as the older woman laughed a little and got on (Y/n) level to inspect her knee. It was red, but no scratches or anything.

"It hurts a lot?" The woman asked softly as the girl nodded her head.

"Here, I will teach you how to make all your boo-boos stop hurting." Hearing her mom's words, (Y/n) wiped the tears away and blinked up at her.

"How?"

"A kiss on the spot makes all the pain go away." The woman said soothingly and kissed the bruised knee.

"Huh...." (Y/n) looked curiously at her knee and then up at her mom.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Actually, no... Do kisses really help?!" The girl looked excitedly at her mom, who nodded her head while laughing.

"Of course. And hugs help when you feel down. Remember that, ok?"

"Ok, mom!" The woman smiled down at her while patting her head.

"Now, come inside. I made you some cookies."

Dream ends

Gasping, (Y/n) quickly sat up in her bed and looked around the room, trying to adjust to the darkness.

"Mom... dad..." She muttered as she looked around, only for her eyes to land on Kaiser and Ness, who were sound asleep. Her excitement soon diminished as she realized where she was.

'Oh...yeah, they are gone.' She bit her lower lip and looked at the digital clock next to her bed.

'It's just 2 in the morning as well.' (Y/n) let out a small sigh and laid down on her bed, trying to fall asleep again.

The next day was pretty much uneventful, with Noa and the other senior players in Bastard helping them practice, and Kaiser trying to force (Y/n) to assist him, which was something she kept ignoring. While practicing with Raichi and Kiyora, one of the staff members called out for her to stop her practicing for an emergency. With Noa's permission, the girl left the field and followed after the staff member, wondering what was going on.

"Did something happen? What is the emergency?" (Y/n) asked in worry as the man let out an exhausted sigh and rubbed his temples.

"There is something going on at the French stratum." (Y/n) felt a small spark of anxiety in her system at the mention of it. Did someone from the Blue Lock team get hurt?

"What...what happened?" She asked in worry as the man shook his head and told her to follow him.

All the anxiety she felt diminished the moment she entered the training field, and frustration taking over when she noticed Rin and Shidou yelling at each other.

'Did they seriously injure each other?!' She thought, her irritation rising as she noticed the bruises on their faces.

"Hi there, (Y/n)!" Charles cheered as he ran up to her, hugging her from behind.

"Hi." She said back and walked over to where Shidou and Rin were. Loki was the first one to notice the two, and besides the frustration he felt towards the two, he also felt frustrated at Charles' behavior.

"Charles, get off of (Y/n)!" Loki yelled at the boy, who shook his head.

"Rin,Shidou." The two stopped their arguing and their anger slowly turning into panic as they looked at (Y/n). The said girl looked eerily calm as a smile decorated her face.

"Well, they are dead." Karasu chuckled as Tokimitsu hid behind him.

Once (Y/n) had finished berating the two, both her and Loki took it upon themselves to patch up the bruises. Thankfully it was nothing too serious.

"Can't you be serious for once? Especially since Blue Lock is televised." The girl asked Shidou as she fished for a bandage in the kit. The blonde just rolled his eyes at her behavior then smirked.

"You are quite cute when you get mad. I might keep up the act." Shidou snickered as (Y/n) blushed a little, but ignored him.

"There..." She muttered, looking at the bandaged cheek. The girl looked at it for a while, her eyes softening as she remembered the dream.

'Mom...' She thought, kissing Shidou's cheek. The said boy jumped a little as he looked at (Y/n) in shock and a flustered face. Loki's mouth was agape as he held Rin back from attacking Shidou.

"Not fair! What about me?!" Karasu whined as Tokimitsu played with the hem of his shirt.

"I want a kiss as well." Tokimitsu muttered as Charles was eerily quiet.

"What the hell?" Shidou muttered as he touched the spot (Y/n) kissed, while the girl woke up from her thoughts, looking at the rest in confusion.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, don't worry- DID YOU JUST BITE ME, RIN?!" Loki yelled, struggling to hold the younger Itoshi back.

The next day was fairly normal, with Kaiser and Isagi bickering while Ness tried to get a rise put of (Y/n), in which he was failing since she didn't pay much attention to him. The dream was still haunting her.

'I wish I had more time to spend with them...' She lazily took a bite of her food when a flinch caught her attention.

"Huh? Kurona, are you alright?" Both her and Yukimiya looked at the boy as he rubbed his head, wincing while nodding his head.

"Yeah, I just wasn't paying attention and a football hit my head." (Y/n) blinked as she got up from her spot and walked over to him, inspecting his head for a moment.

"It just looks a little bruised, as far as I can tell." (Y/n) hummed as the boy nodded his head.

"Probably, I just feel a slight ache." She looked at the spot Kurona was pointing at previously, her eyes softening again.

'A kiss makes the pain go away, as mom said.' She thought, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on the boy's head. Kurona gasped a little as a red blush spread across his face while the rest stopped what they were doing to look at them. Ness had fainted from the shock as Kaiser looked at her like a kicked puppy. Isagi, Hiori,and Yukimiya pulled Kurona to the side with the fakest smiles to 'talk'. Meanwhile Kunigami and and Gagamaru each gave her a napkin to wipe jer mouth away.

"Huh?" She looked at the duo in confusion, finally getting out of her trance.

"Hmm..." a figure from behind the door mumbled while watching the chaos.

"Is everything alright, Chigiri?" (Y/n) wondered as she kicked the ball towards the sprinter, who just sighed and shook his head.

"No... I have been feeling down ever since this whole Neo-Egoist thing started." The redhead admitted.

"Really? Why? You are doing great so far." (Y/n) gave out a small praise as the boy blushed.

"It's just, the more time passes the more I am aware what my limits are."

"Still on the injury?" (Y/n) asked as the redhead nodded his head.

"It will be alright, Chigiri. You came so far thanks to your willpower and strength." The redhead felt his heart beat increase as she said that and pulled him into a short hug.

'A hug makes the sadness go away...'

Chigiri stood there frozen for a moment, until he hugged the girl back.

"Unfair! You never hugged us, (Y/n)!"

"I feel sad too!!" Came Reo and Nagi's protests.

Over the course of the week the other players finally understood what (Y/n) was doing and they tried to either get hurt, or pretend to be sad. They just wanted a hug or a kiss from the captain.

"(Y/nnnn) I fell on my knee! It hurts. A kiss and bandages might help."

"Huh? Sure, Karasu."

"(Y/n), I kind of feel sad today because someone age my breakfast. Can I get a hug?"

"Of course Gagamaru!"

"(Y/n), I cut my finger on my paper earlier. Can you kiss it to make the pain go away?"

"Uhm.. sure, Yukimiya. But we need to disinfect it as well."

"(Y/n)! I fell on my head! Kiss it better!"

"Again, Bachira?"

"Lukewarm, give me a hug. I saw my brother on TV again."

"Hmmm sure. But you should really talk to him soon."

"I really feel anxious because of our match tomorrow. Can I get a hug?"

"Of course, Tokimitsu!"

"(Y/n)! Hug me! I just saw a mosquito!"

"Sure thing, Isagi."

"Can you kiss my cheek better? Miroku kicked a ball into it by accident."

"That looks really swollen, Otoya. Sure I will, but we need to get you an ice pack."

"...."

"Do you want a hug, Kunigami? You look really down?"

"Please."

"(Y/n)... I had to talk to my parents today..."

"Do you want to talk about it, Hiori?"

"Can you hug me while we talk?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Are you sad, again?"

"I just want to sleep while hugging something."

"Then go do that, Nagi. We have today off."

"Sure!"

"..."

"Nagi, I didn't mean to hug me."

"Instructions were unclear. Mission successful."

"(Y/n), I fell on my nose. Can you kiss it better?"

"Sure thing, Niko."

"Your fabulous friend is feeling sad today. Come and cuddle with me."

"Ok, Aryu!"

"..."

"...."

"Barou, do you want a hug-"

"Yes!"

"There. Does your hand feel better now, Reo?"

"It feel a little better. Just give it a kiss and it will be good as new."

All the while a certain French player was observing the attention everyone got from Blue Lock's midfielder, and he decided that enough was enough. He deserved his hug and kiss more than anyone, so he came up with a plan.

"You want me to what?" Loki asked in disbelief as Charles forced the football into his hands.

"Please. Please. Please. I swear, I will leave (Y/n) alone for a a whole week if you do this for me! Please!" The boy begged and begged until Loki sighed and finally gave in.

"Please, just don't freak him out. He is my closest friend in this place."

"Of course I won't!" Charles grinned.

And that's what got him here. (Y/n) holding an ice pack to his forehead as the boy held back a grin.

"And you say Loki accidentally kicked the ball to your forehead?" (Y/n) asked again, finding it hard to believe a prodigy like Loki would miss this bad.

"Yeah. I wanted to try a head shot and failed. Anyway, will you give my forehead a kiss now?" Charles quickly changed the subject as (Y/n) looked at him weirdly.

"You want one?"

"Of course!"

The girl sighed in defeat and nodded her head.

"Fine." She sighed and finally removed the ice pack, giving a short kiss to Charles' forehead. The boy sighed in bliss as (Y/n( went to put the ice pack away.

'Didn't think that everyone believed in kisses making the pain go away. Maybe mom was right..."

[ashlynlovestlou]

Hey lynnie!! I was wondering if you could maybe right a fic about reader that does sh and relapses and gets comforted by abby??

hi ml!! of course i can, i hope this is okay

cw: self harm , explicit details about cuts , comfort! abby , use of pet names , reader has she/her pronouns

a/n: DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU. this is an extremely touchy subject, and i sincerely apologize if this is offensive or insensitive. if you need help or someone to talk to, my dms or inbox are always open, and there's a list of helplines tagged below.

masterlist

it was pure mistake. the urges usually weren't that strong, and you usually knew better than to give in to them. but after a rough morning, you felt helpless.

usually it wasn't that bad. they were always surface scratches, fading away quick enough so that nobody noticed them.

and of course abby knew. she noticed them one day while you were at her apartment, doing the dishes after baking with her. it was over the holidays and it was cold outside, so naturally you were wearing long sleeves. while you were doing the dishes she found it odd that you didn't roll your sleeves up. your clothes were turning dark from the dampness of the sink water, and it bothered abby.

"why don't you roll your sleeves up, baby?" she asks with a small chuckle, dropping a dirty mixing bowl into the sink.

you had laughed nervously, "cause it's cold in here."

"aw." she said as she pressed a kiss to your temple. her hands had been dangerously close to your sleeves, "want me to turn the thermostat up?"

but before you could respond, she was rolling your sleeves up for you. everything stopped when she saw the cuts on your arms. breaths were held. hearts didn't beat. eyes didn't blink.

after that she spent an hour talking to you about it, asking you questions while she tended to your wounds. you had never seen your poor girlfriend so upset and so worried about you.

she made you vow never to do it again. which you thought was going to be easy.

until today.

now your arms were so red there was blood dripping down to your elbows. your body shook and shook and shook. like you did it when you weren't thinking clearly, and now it was suddenly hitting you that you went overboard. so overboard, in fact, that the sight made you sick to your stomach.

your skin was red and swollen, and the tips of your fingers were tingling. the fresh cuts had overlapped the old ones, blood tricking all around your wrists and elbowsz

your first instinct wasn't to wash off the blood or bandage it up, but to call abby.

after three rings she answered, "hey, baby. i'm at work, can i call you back on my break?"

just the sound of her voice put tears in your eyes. you knew she was going to be upset.

"i need you." you manage to choke out, your voice breaking as a hiccup escapes your lips.

"whats wrong, sweetheart?" she asks, and you can hear the faint clicking of a keyboard on the other side of the line. she's working on her computer, typing away as she's blissfully unaware what her girlfriend had done to herself.

"i relapsed."

the words make her breath catch in her throat. all of the noises stop, a sharp inhale being heard. abby herself felt like crying, because it hurt to know her love had cut herself again.

"okay... it's okay. don't panic and don't move, alright? i'll be there as fast as i can." she says in one breath before hanging up.

within ten minutes abby was at your front door, fishing out the key you gave her a few months into dating. she let herself in, seeing you on the couch, completely still. you hadn't moved, just like she asked.

she sinks to her knees in front of you, her gaze never once leaving your eyes. you'd grown to appreciate when she would do that, as if your scars weren't the only thing that she sees. but when her gaze finally did fall to your arms, the mere sight made her heart drop to her stomach.

"oh, honey... oh, baby..." she says quietly. she didn't expect it to be this bad. maybe a few surface scratches at best. not one this significantly deep, "why didn't you call me?"

"i-i did."

"i mean when you got the urge." she says, taking your hands into her own and rubbing your palms, "call me before, not after. okay?"

you nod your head, fighting back tears as she takes out a wipe from her work bag, trying to clean up the cuts the best she can.

abby is the most tender human being youve ever met. she's gentle and knows what to do when things like this happen. often times she has to remind herself not to panic to worsen the situation, but seeing you in such a state like this makes her heart shatter in her chest.

once she's all done she cuddled up real close with you, wrapping your arms in a bandage and peppering kisses all over your face. she'll take the next few days off of work to stay with you, afraid it'll happen again if she were to leave you by yourself. once you're calmed down enough, she'll go around your apartment, confiscating anything she thinks you could hurt yourself with. but you didn't mind. even when the urges were there, so was abby.

.

.

.

SELF HARM HELPLINES:

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[olivethewriter]

Falling for Fezco (Again)

Explaining why you and Fezco had broken up was hard. You two had been arguing more and making up less. Your family hated him, and every other girl seemed to want him. In the end, it was Fezco who ended things beacuse in his words you were  “fucking crazy.”

For the past couple of weeks, you’d been in shambles. Tonight, though, was supposed to be the last time you’d sit around feeling sorry for yourself. As your best friend Maddy said, “The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one.” So, that’s how you ended up at some random party, desperately pulling down the skirt you borrowed from Maddy. You two had promised to stay close, but you lost her while taking your third shot of straight vodka.

You reached the best stage of tipsiness—where the self-conscious voices in your head quieted, but you were still aware enough to avoid doing something you would regret tomorrow. You walked out to the center of the room, swaying to the music. You stayed like that for a while until, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Maddy leaving with some guy. Without thinking, you followed her to remind her that you two were supposed to stick together.

As you approached the door, some drunk girl collided with you, her body weight sending you sprawling. Your oversized platforms tripping you up, and before you could brace yourself, you hit the floor hard. The impact jarred your teeth, and a sharp pain shot through your palms as you tried to catch yourself. 

The room seemed to freeze for a moment, and the music felt distant. You lay there, face-down, as a hush fell over the crowd. Whispers and snickers spread through the onlookers. You could feel the heat rising in your throat.

Yeah, this night was the worst.

You got up quickly and stumbled into the kitchen, taking another shot or two or three. You had lost count now. Someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around to see a guy you recognized from either your English or Geometry class,your brain was too foggy to know and to be honest you didn't care.

“Hey, do you want to dance?” he asked.

“Yeah, why not,” you slurred.

He led you to the dance floor, his hands on your waist but creeping lower. You started dancing, feeling him press against you. You turned back and giggled, but he kept his grip too low. When a slower song came on, he began grinding into you and kissing your neck. You stood there, trying to avoid making things awkward but wanting him to stop. Finally, the song ended, and he whispered in your ear, “Wanna go upstairs?”

“Oh, um, I’m good. I’m not really in the mood—”

“It’s fine, let’s just go,” he insisted, grabbing your wrist and heading for the stairs.

“No, I really don’t want to,” you said, pulling your hand back.

“Whatever, bitch,” he said, walking away.

Now you felt even worse. You stumbled to a couch, fished your phone out of your purse, and did the unthinkable:

 you called your ex.

He answered on the second ring. “Hello? Y/N?”

“Fezzy,” you slurred.

He sighed. “Are you drunk?”

“Mm-hmm,” you began to cry. “I was at this party with Maddy to get over you, but she left, and this guy kept touching me. Then he called me a bitch.”

“who?,” he asked.

“Fezzy,that doesn't matter, just please come pick me up. I’m sorry, and I still love you!” you cried, hiccups interrupting your sobs.

“I’ll be there in five.”

When Fezco arrived, you were sitting on the couch, hugging your knees. You stood up as he walked in, and his eyes widened. Despite your mascara-streaked cheeks and unruly hair, he hadn’t seen you in weeks, and somehow, you looked even prettier.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Okay,” you sniffled, heading for the door. The guy from earlier spotted you.

“Slut,” he muttered under his breath. You tried to ignore him, but Fez didn’t.

“You want to say that again, punk?” Fezco said, sizing him up.

“Yeah,” the drunk boy repeated. “That girl is a fucking whore.” Before the words had fully left his mouth a punch landed with a sickening crack, snapping the boy’s head to the side. The crowd gasped collectively, and the boy stumbled but Fezco wasn't done He followed up with a series of brutal, relentless blows

You tried to intervene, your voice broke with desperation “Fez! Fezco! Stop, he isn’t worth it! Fezco, stop!” 

Fez stood up and dusted himself off. “Let’s go,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You woke up on Fezco’s couch in yesterday’s outfit—shoes and all—with a pounding headache and a parched tongue.

“Ughhh,” you groaned, sitting up to take the aspirin Fezco had set aside for you.

“That bad, huh?” Fezco asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I feel like I just got hit by a truck.”

“You want some waffles?” Fezco asked, gesturing to a box of frozen waffles by the toaster.

“No, I should probably get going,” you said, turning for the door.

“Really, Y/N? You’re just going to leave after what you said yesterday!?”

“What did I say?” you asked, playing dumb.

“That you still fucking loved me!” he shouted, exasperated.

“Well, I don’t, Fezco. I was drunk and upset!” you yelled back.

“That’s bullshit. Just tell the truth!”

“Why the hell should I? Just so you can break my heart again!”

“No, because I was fucking wrong. Damn it, why do you make it so hard to say shit? I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have broken up with you,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Then why the hell did you?”

“Oh my god, Y/N, just stop.”

Without warning, his hands were on you, grabbing your face roughly. His lips crashed into yours with a force that stole your breath away. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was full of anger and need. He tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled you closer. His hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The contact sent a shockwave through you, and you arched into him, deepening the kiss. Your tongues clashed, each of you fighting for dominance, the taste of him mingling with the metallic hint of blood from where you’d bitten your lip.

He pushed you back against the wall, the force making a picture frame rattle. His grip tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin in a way that was almost painful but only fueled the fire inside you. You bit his lower lip, tugging at it, and he groaned into your mouth, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel more of him, to erase the distance between you. He helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and carried you to the couch. He trailed his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moaned and tilted your head back, giving him better access, your breath coming in ragged gasps. His mouth never left your skin, trailing kisses across your collarbone, down to the hollow of your throat. Each touch was electrifying, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

Your hands found their way to his back, nails digging into his skin, you heard a groan from deep within his chest. The sound vibrated through you, making your pulse race even faster. He shifted, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, against your neck.

“Wait,” you said, pulling away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing—well, um, what does this mean for us?”

“I don’t know. What do you want it to mean?” Fezco asked.

“I don't know, I just don't want to get hurt again”

“I won't hurt you again, I promise baby”

You stared at Fezco, the weight of his promise hanging in the air between you. For a moment, everything else faded—the pounding headache, the throbbing pain from the previous night. It was just the two of you, raw and exposed.

“I love you, baby,” you admitted.

“I love you more,” Fezco said, wrapping his arms around you, and everything felt right. 

You didn’t care that he was a dealer and you had never even gotten a speeding ticket. You didn’t care that he was 20 and you were in high school. All that mattered was that he loved you and you loved him. That was enough. As you lay there together, tangled up in each other, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful that things would work out this time.

Yall thank you for reading!!!

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing-Dave York x f!reader × Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He's tasked to find Frankie's, but what happens when he finds you and wants you all to himself?

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected piv, Frankie sucks at communicating, hurt/comfort

WC-4.5k

A/N- Frankie and reader have a little time to themselves this chapter. I was going to make this a monster chapter but decided to break it up because I’m not ready to let three three go just yet.

[Main Masterlist]|Series Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter VIII

You’re not ashamed to admit the last few months have been nothing short of amazing. You spent those first few nights tangled amongst them until you had to pry yourselves off each other. You had to establish some sort of routine to spend time with them, all while trying not to get fired from your job. 

Dave had basically paused all future business to focus on you and Frankie so you reluctantly understood when he said he needed to go home and take care of a few things. He had several clients backed up and you didn’t want to be selfish in delaying anyone’s happiness of finding their soulmate. That was what brought him to you after all. 

You didn’t want to admit that you already missed Dave, with him only being gone just a few days. The upcoming weekend with Frankie would be a much needed distraction for both of you. 

Frankie was secretly looking forward to having some alone time with you. The selfish but not so selfish part of him finally not having to share you. 

Dave and Frankie had made a promise to never lie to you again, but they also didn’t want to scare you away with conversation that could be had without you…about your future. 

The logistics of Dave going home was mostly kept in the dark so you wouldn’t have to worry too much. Frankie and Dave had a plan and if all went well the three of you didn’t have to keep doing this awkward song and dance of traveling back and forth between Frankie’s place and your small apartment. 

The only hiccup so far was your job. The job they both knew you loved so much. The one thing that might keep you from saying yes to the question Frankie’s been lingering on for the last several weeks. Him and Dave had more than enough money to provide for you, but they knew you and how fiercely independent you were. 

He could already tell what direction Santi and Alicia were headed in. It seemed she spent most of her time at his place now and Frankie didn’t feel right having you by yourself in that apartment. There was always that hesitation in your eyes when they’d wanted to suggest it. Almost as if you knew but you weren’t quite ready to make that leap. To make this real. 

A knock on his window pulls him from his thoughts as you stand there smiling. Tongue between your teeth as he opens the door because you already know what he’s going to say. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about bringing your bags down.” 

“I believe you said I’m a big strong woman, fully capable of carrying my own bags.” You fake ponder for a moment as he cages you against the truck. “Oh and that it’s not the 1950’s anymore.” 

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he kisses you hard, grumbling something against your mouth about being an insufferable brat. 

“You’re on thin ice, you know that.” You yelp as he slaps your ass. “Get in the truck before I call Dave and tell him you’re already being defiant.” 

You round the side of the Jeep and hop into the passenger seat. You fish around the middle console for your sunglasses as Frankie loads your bags into the back. 

“You know you can leave some things at my place, I don’t mind.” You look at him in the reflection of the rearview mirror but he’s not looking back, too busy situating your things to fit just right. 

“Already sick of carrying my bags Morales.” 

“Never that hermosa.” He ignores your avoidance of the offer, deciding he’ll broach the topic later. 

You know he loves you, he’s told you that much in many different ways. 

Your anxiety can get the best of you sometimes and you wonder if he’s growing tired of this arrangement. Having to drive, all be it an hour and a half out of his way to see you. You know they could take care of you financially but is that what you really wanted? To abandon the store and stay at home. No need for your degree, just to be a stay at home…whatever it is when you’re with two people. 

Watching Frankie in the driver's seat from Dave’s usual spot is enough of a distraction from your thoughts. 

One hand on the steering wheel and the other tracing circles on your thigh. He’s humming some tune you’re unsure of, not matching the one playing low on the radio. His aviators perched low on the bridge of his nose and a slight smile on his face. He’s let his curls grow out a little over the last few months and you can’t help yourself when he’s not donning his cap. Your hands take through them when you’re all situated on his couch watching some movie. Trying desperately to pay attention to whatever’s on the screen and not just wondering how you ended up with two gorgeous men. 

“You’re staring sweetheart.” 

You bite your lip as you look back at the road. “Sorry, you’re just too handsome. I can’t help myself.” 

An instantaneous reaction as you watch his neck turn red, his lips turn up slightly as he fights the urge to argue with you. 

He was still getting used to the idea that two people could want him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. His natural instinct to assume that you were just trying to make him feel better and not truly thinking he’s special. 

Years of rejection and heartbreak that you’ve successfully torn down over the last few months. Years of disappointment and shame that he can’t love who he wants without judgment, that Dave had decidedly squashed the first time he held his hand in public. 

There aren’t enough words to describe how he feels now. So he drives in comfortable silence, with you by his side. In the spot you are always meant to be as he heads to a place you’ll hopefully call home someday soon. 

  ****

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Frankie unload his Jeep so fast. Obviously in some not so secret hurry to get you inside. 

It still takes your breath away when you pull up to his home. The long driveway lined by sabal palms, a small pond with a weeping willow blowing in the wind. You could tell right away Frankie was big on privacy and Dave was thoroughly impressed the first time he came over. Visibly relaxing the further Frankie drove into seclusion. 

It helped that the only other homes for a few miles belonged to Santiago and his friend Will. Will and his wife and Will's brother Ben were so sweet to you when he first introduced you. You had been so nervous to meet them that first time and Dave was so worked up he made himself too sick to leave Frankie’s house. Forcing you to meet them on your own, but you’re so glad you did. With the help of Alicia who had thoroughly cemented herself in Santi’s life, it made it all worth it to be welcomed into this group. 

“You coming hermosa?” Frankie yells over his shoulder. 

Here you go daydreaming again. 

You run to catch up with him as he waits for you with your bags in the walkway. 

Frankie watches you jogging up to him and starts to feel a little feral. His hands gripping the shoulder bag tight to distract him from what he wants to do to you on the other side of that door. You’ve seemed faraway today, like something is on your mind and he wants so badly to help put you at ease. 

Little does he know as you saunter past him, grabbing his keys from his back pocket that you have something similar in mind. 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” He says as you throw a look over your shoulder. You snatch your bag from him as you scurry down the long hallway. 

“I’ll be right back!” The bedroom door closes and he’s just left standing there smiling to himself. How on earth he got so lucky to have you by his side is beyond him.

****

If you stare at your reflection for too long you’ll surely convince yourself to change. 

The barely there string bikini, green with small white dots adorned throughout. The ties lay just above your hips and the top wraps around the front into some intricate pattern. 

Sexy is an understatement of how you’re feeling right now and you know without a doubt it’s going to drive Frankie crazy. 

You rifle through your bag for your  little travel size perfume. A scent you’d worn on both of your first dates with Dave and Frankie that you made sure to keep on hand after the way they commented on how good you smelled. A small spritz behind your ears and one last look in the mirror before you traverse down the long hallway to the sound of music playing softly in the living room. 

His back is to you when you enter and he’s admiring one of the latest records he’d picked up from the store. 

He sheepishly confessed to you after your first time at his place when you saw the pile of vinyls he’d purchased from the store perched on his dining room table and no record player in sight. 

You balked the second time you came over at the vintage wrensilva console. Blonde mahogany with a natural speaker grille finish. Brushed brass legs and signature louvered doors. 

The pleased look on his face and he listened to you describe each feature with awe at how he could purchase such a thing without a care in the world. He just shrugged it off and made some offhand comment about not knowing what the standard price was but secretly being proud of himself at your reaction. 

Probably much similar to his reaction now as he sets the record down when he hears your soft footsteps approaching. 

Frankie almost forgets where he is when he turns around to face you. Somehow it feels even more scandalous than when you’ve got nothing on. The color choice being his favorite is likely not a mistake when it comes to you. 

The way you look at him, doing your best to seem confident but the innocence in your eyes and the way you fidget with the strings has him growing hard in his jeans. 

“Do you like it?” You ask hesitantly and he just laughs as he stalks towards you. 

“Like it?” His hands find your waist, his fingertips gripping any flesh he can find. “Do I like it?” He almost sounds angry at your words as he groans under his breath. 

He backs himself up against the couch and sits, keeping you standing in front of him as he digs his phone out of his pocket. “Pose for me baby.” 

You don’t overthink it as he takes a few photos. Your hands behind your head as you do your best pouty look. The way he bites his lip as you turn around feeling a little bolder and bend over.  

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” He says it more to himself than to you as he discards the phone somewhere to his right as he spins you to face him. 

Gone are the brown of his eyes, replaced with the darkness that you’ve rarely seen. This side of him that you don’t specifically ask for with words but with your actions. The demanding, sure tone in his voice when he turns into that soldier and you get a glimpse of who he is. 

“Come here.” His hands reach for you and you can’t help but obey as you slide into his lap. 

He curses under his breath as he adjusts you slightly to unbuckle his pants and relieve some of the pressure. He’s desperate as you wrap your hand around him and pump him as you look at him with those soft eyes and the heat licks up his spine as he succumbs to the feel of you for a brief moment. 

He can’t let you have that control right now. 

Under normal circumstances he’d take his time with you, have you falling apart with his fingers and his mouth just to tease you before he sinks into you. Right now he needs to be inside you. 

His fingers fiddle with the tie on your bikini but he thinks otherwise as they trail to the front of your suit and move it aside. Feeling the wetness there and he can’t help but play with you a little as his middle and forefinger drag through your slit. 

“Frankie please.” You breathe out as your forehead rests against his. 

“I know, baby.” His gaze fixated on where his hand replaces yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

The sweet sigh of relief as you sink down onto him, your nails digging into his scalp as he gives you a moment to adjust. He needs this moment too because he’s drunk off you, the heat of your body and the way it molds to him. 

You experimentally roll your hips and his grip tightens on your waist. His mouth swallows your gasp as he thrusts his hips to meet yours, wasting no time to work you up to your release. 

It’s hot and it’s fast and you have zero regrets about wearing this bikini now as he whispers pure filth in your ear. Almost drowned out by the sounds of your bodies meeting frantically. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight.” He grunts out in between thrusts. “Fucking made for me.” 

You don’t even know if he’s aware of what he’s doing to you as your hands brace the back of the couch and his mouth latches onto your breast biting down through the fabric. 

“Frankie, you’re so deep.” You pant out as you drop your head to the crook of his neck. 

The soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you struggle to breathe, the way he knows his hands will leave a bruise. He needs you to come like he needs air to breathe. 

“Come with me baby.” He nips at your jaw as you snake a hand between your bodies. His hand grabs your wrist as he pulls it behind your back. 

No 

“You’re gonna come just like this.” 

He smirks because he can’t see your face but you clench around him at his words. He slows his thrusts to punch something deep inside you and you keen as you arch into him. 

A primal sound reverberates from deep in his chest as he spills his release. Using your body to wring out every last drop. He briefly comes to and releases your wrist from behind your back, apologizing against your temple with hot open mouthed kisses. 

You manage a reassuring pat on his chest and kiss his cheek. 

“Frankie…that was.” 

“I know.” 

You finally pull back after what feels like an eternity. Softly stroking his hair as he rubs soothing circles into your damp skin. 

You chuckle as you take in your current state. Frankie fully clothed and your suit pulled in all different directions. 

You can’t help but think how perfect this is. As his lips meet yours again and the low steady hum of the record spinning in the background. The slight clicks of the imperfections as it slowly spins and fades out. 

****

Frankie decided to forgo swimsuits all together as you spent the rest of the day lounging in his pool. The urge to touch you is even stronger when you look so ethereal. Watching you float above the water, so carefree. This is what he wanted everyday. 

He needs to ask you before Dave comes back but he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. 

Whatever turn of events landed you both here is beyond him. Maybe he finally reached karmatic zero and the universe decided he’d taken enough beatings for one person. 

The old version of him would’ve done anything to sabotage this. He’s used to that feeling when everything was going right that he should ruin it before someone else has the chance to. He would drown in whatever vice he could get his hands on until it almost swallowed him whole. 

He should probably thank Santiago for giving him that push. He doesn’t really want to see the self satisfied look on his face when he admits that this was a good thing- a great thing. 

Although Santi might admit that it helped him find the thing he’d never thought he’d have either. 

His mouth goes dry at the sight of you stepping out of the water like some spectral being coming to snatch him from the depths of the underworld. The water cascading over your body, glistening with the last remnants of the sun as it sets behind you. 

“Frankie.” A laugh blooming on the tip of your tongue as you stare down at him on the lounger. You seem to have interrupted some dream or deep train of thought. You reach out to smooth the crease between his brows as he registers your voice. 

“Sorry.” He stands to cover you with the towel and pull you into his arms. “Was a little distracted.” 

“Mmmm.” You sink into his embrace as he warms you with his hands. “I was gonna turn into a prune if I stayed in there any longer.”

He kisses the top of your head. “A very cute prune.” 

****

Frankie told you to shower while he ordered pizza for the two of you. The hot water cascading over you has you in a trance and you try to push down that feeling of dread of having to go back home. You don't know why your brain won’t just let you enjoy the moment. You still have two days with him but it already doesn’t feel like enough time. 

Your mind wanders to the little bits of thoughtfulness sprinkled throughout his home. Your favorite body wash and hair products are set up in the shower so you don’t have to bring your own. More than enough space in his closet that he’s cleared for some of your things. An almost exact replica of your favorite blanket draped across the edge of his bed. 

A collection of records that seems to be getting larger by the day so you could enjoy music the way you loved too. 

Whenever you had to return to your apartment it felt like you were living two separate lives. The one you had grown so accustomed to was changing day by day. This new one intertwined with Frankie and Dave seemed like a fairytale that you were waiting to wake up from. 

****

It doesn’t take you long to get refreshed and slip into one of Frankie’s shirts and your sleep shorts. The smell of garlic and herbs greeting you as you make your way down the hall. 

It sounds like Frankie’s talking to someone, hushed tones and a little frantic.You don’t mean to eavesdrop but it has some unnerving feeling creeping up your spine at the way he’s speaking. 

“Look, Dave, I…I just don’t know how to tell her.” His voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been trying to find the right words, but I keep second guessing myself.”

Your heart is pounding as you squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to suppress the rising anxiety building in your chest. What could they possibly be talking about that was so difficult to say?

Frankie doesn’t feel the eyes on him from the dimly lit hallway. “Francisco.” Dave’s voice crackles through the phone. “You’ve had weeks to figure this out. It’s not that hard, just ask her. Why was it so easy for you to ask me?” 

To be honest he doesn’t know. He just sort of blurted it out one day and was pleasantly surprised when Dave said yes almost immediately. Maybe he thought it would be easier to have Dave’s help but he’s leaving it up to him to finish this. 

Your thoughts are racing as you watch him pace back and forth in his kitchen, feeling only a little guilty for listening in on such a private conversation. 

“I know, I know.” Frankie says, his voice almost pleading. “What if…this just isn’t the right time.” 

Okay, you think you’ve heard enough. It seems absurd to walk back down the hallway just to turn around making a little more noise so he can sense you coming, if not to just end this uncomfortable conversation. 

“Frankie, you’re overthinking this.” Dave’s exasperation coming through the receiver. “She loves us, we’ve all been waiting for this for so long. You need to do it before I come home.” 

Frankie hears you humming some tune as you traipse down the hall. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll figure it out.”

You come into view, freshly showered and dressed in his clothes and it eases some of that tension he was feeling. He hands you the phone with no prompting and a smirk on his face. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, hummingbird.” His voice and the nickname never ceases to make your heart skip a beat. “I miss you.” 

“Miss you too.” You almost feel somewhat embarrassed to say this in front of Frankie but he’s just smiling at you as he leans on the kitchen island. 

“I have to say I’m a little jealous.” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You gonna wear that bikini for me when I get back?” 

Your mouth drops open in shock, but not quite surprised that he’s already seen it. 

Frankie watches you in awe as you talk to Dave. You fidget with the hem of his shirt and nervously cross your foot over the other. It’s like you’re having a conversation with a crush or a high school boyfriend and it’s the sweetest thing. Dave was right, he can’t wait any longer and he doesn’t want to miss another opportunity to see you like this, in his home. In their home. 

“Okay baby, I’ll be home soon.” 

Home

Dave’s choice of words were intentional whether or not you noticed was another thing. 

****

You’re sitting comfortably on the couch in your usual spot while Frankie plates your food. It’s been hours since you checked your phone for any messages from Alicia or to just check in, which you find yourself doing less of now that you’re both in established relationships. It’s a peaceful feeling knowing that she’s so happy and finally found her person. You’re sure she feels the same about you. Not having to wonder if you’re home alone. 

There’s just one text message from Alicia saying how she can’t wait to see you at the barbecue tomorrow at Will’s house. She said she has a lot to talk about with a winking, smiley emoji. You can only imagine what she’s got up her sleeve now. 

There’s a missed call from the owner of the shop which is unusual. The fact that  he’d call you on the weekend is causing a slight panic as you hold the phone up to listen to the long voicemail. 

Hi hon, it's Jim. I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to let you know that after a lot of thought, I've decided to close the store. I’ve been thinking about retiring and traveling, and the store’s just become too much to handle on top of everything else.”

His voice fades in and out over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

 “It’s a tough decision, but I think it’s the right one. There’s been some interest from people wanting to buy it, but I don’t want to leave anyone hangin’. I’m going to send your final paycheck in the mail, so keep an eye out for that. I really appreciate all your hard work over the years. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. Take care."

That’s it. A voicemail. 

That store was your baby. The first thing you dove into after moving here and needing an escape from the life you left behind. You poured your everything into curating and organizing. Decorating and making it feel like a welcome place for everyone. You had regulars that you likely wouldn’t get to say goodbye to. 

Frankie sets the plate down in front of you but it looks like you’re a million miles from here. The blankness in your eyes has him more than worried when he kneels down in front of you on the couch. 

“Hermosa, what’s wrong?” He takes your hand in his but you barely register as tears spring to your eyes. 

“A voicemail.” You say cynically as you shake your head. 

His fingers pinch your chin bringing you face to face with his worried eyes. “Hey, tell me what’s wrong.” A little more forceful now that he needs to know what he’s in for. 

“He’s closing the store.” 

Oh 

“I guess I just…I don’t know.” You settle your hand on his wrist and close your eyes. “Of course I’m happy for him, but it’s over…just like that.” You brush your face with your hands trying to shake this feeling of uncertainty. 

And Frankie realizes another moment is going to pass him by because now would be the worst time to ask you what he wants. 

“What am I gonna do for work? What do I even have to go back to?” He can see you spiraling as he stands up and fits himself behind you on the couch. He has the answers to all your questions but you’re not ready to hear that right now. Your mind is on some other plain of existence and he just holds you to him as he feels the dam break. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there holding you. Whispering words into your ear to help calm your breathing. A technique he’d learned in therapy but thankfully he rarely had to use. 

He didn’t want to move from this spot so he reached for the remote, putting on some re-runs of law and order. It was odd he thought the first time you told him that this was your comfort show but he can feel you relaxing into him as you uncurl your legs and look up to face him for the first time in an hour. Your tear stained cheeks and red eyes looking back at him and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“I’m sorry I had a meltdown.” You sniffle a little, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He swipes a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “That was more of a shutdown and less of a melt down.” He kisses your cheek hoping to convey every emotion he wants to say out loud. You can cry, I’m here for you. “Are you hungry?” 

You nod your head against the cushion facing back to the show. Ice-T makes some corny quip that has a wet laugh bubbling up from your chest. 

He goes to move but you make a sound of discontent. 

“I’m just going to warm up your slice baby.” 

Baby. 

The way it rolls off his tongue as though he’s said it for a lifetime. You look at him with those sad brown eyes, grabbing his wrist and kissing the length of his arm. 

“But, I like cold pizza.” 

Of course, he thinks as he reaches for his plate, sliding his piece onto yours so he can hold it for you. Watching you contentedly eat until the next episode followed the next and you were snoring in his arms. 

Tomorrow. He’ll tell you tomorrow so he doesn’t have to waste another day not having this. 

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[izzabela]

i beg thee… more cod stuff.. specifically kyle gaz garrick hitting it from the back.. or the front.. or the side..

PLEASE WOMEAS EOKEAS ELEMA SE PLEASE

Acrobat - Gaz x f!reader

in which Gaz is quite flexible

a/n: i was so convinced lewis hamilton was his CGI face...

ship[s]: kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI- graphic descriptions of sex, mirror fucking, spanking, little dirty talk, multiple positions, semi-aerial fucking, bondage, fluff in the beginning, oh gaz...

You really wish you could shut up sometimes.

Birds chirp the loudest in the morning, but where nature seeks reprimand with apex predators and hunters, your punishment is a man named Kyle fucking Garrick.

"You've quite the bend, soldier," you teased him that morning. "Back's killin' me now..."

And when Gaz replied with a sickeningly sweet "I can help"? You should've realized you stepped in a bear trap.

It started with the yoga lessons. He brought you to the studio he frequents whenever on a day off or leave, a pretty nice studio on the busy streets of London. It wasn't all that bad either, especially with how slow Gaz was going with you.

Despite him being in the hardest difficulty of this yoga studio, he took the time to join the beginner classes with you. He made sure to push your limits when he saw you were about to master a skill, or he helped you out with some poses with kind, yet firm, pointers and demonstration.

And when you didn't have time to go out? He was your personal yoga instructor.

Back arched beyond human flexibility, Gaz kisses the tip of his head to your cervix, bruising it over and over again with how deep he's punching in. Between the perverted slapping of his thighs on the fat of your bum, to the little hiccups of your broken sobs, and the hoarse moaning from your pretty little beak... it was music to Kyle's ears.

"Aw, bird," he coos as he squeezes the supple fat of your ass, "Downward doggy shouldn't be so hard to do..."

You felt like a dumb dog, falling victim to a trappers cruel antics. You couldn't respond to him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the rhythmic pounding of his hips into your ass made you drool and moan for more.

"Got me a dumb mutt..." he spanks your ass again, and again, and again.

And you couldn't be mad at him, because the yoga lessons were really helping! If you had a pretty pence for every time you felt the aches of night time acrobatics leave, you'd be a fucking millionaire. But flexibility lessons didn't stop there.

Gaz took you to a silks studio next. A graduate from the basics of flexibility and mobility, you were moving on to the next parts of Gaz's torture.

It's hard for you to imagine a man to do silks, it's even harder when a man of Gaz's stature and history does silks. Then again, Gaz has always been somewhat lean compared to his comrades. Yes, he still has meaty and round bulbed flesh he calls "muscles", but he was rather lean, a little smaller, and moved a little quicker than the others.

When seeing Gaz lift himself effortlessly on the fabric, wrapping himself up in different patterns and movements, falling- practically floating- gracefully from the ceiling to the ground- you wanted to be that man.

Unfortunately, it would take a lot more for you to be at his level. For now, you stuck with twirls, core-stimulating moves, and full-body poses using all of the fabric. And just like the yoga studio, Gaz would always help you out.

Even at home! Gaz sets up a mirror, takes out his silks from the closet, and unhooks the hanging light from the hook in the ceiling (since when was that there?). Making sure the rope is tight up top, you begin to practice your moves learned from the studio.

Although, "practice" should've had fine print with Gaz. The minute you get into position in the silks, belly facing up, you're stuck (fucking wonderful). Spread like a flayed fish (or a Michelin-starred meal), Gaz takes this opportunity to rip your leggings off, one hand on your back while the other gripping your ass.

You're trying to wriggle out of the silks, but a quick pinch and the vibrations of his "tsk tsk tsk", you're stuck for real. Reluctantly accepting (embracing, he'd argue), Gaz lapped your juices up like a starving animal. Ravished on your folds, digging his tongue inside of you while he moves his hand from your arse to your clit. Pinching, lightly pulling, rubbing- the sensation from his talented tongue and his fingers made you cum not once... not twice...

three times before he gently caught you from the air. Carrying you to the bed to be cleaned up by him and the same hands that made you peak so many times.

And as much as you wanted to be angry with him, the knots that disappeared from your back told you to sit down.

You stopped talking back when Gaz took you to a pilates class. There's no shock anymore, just pure and unbridled confusion watching Gaz not break a damn sweat while on that whole... thingy-majigger... in the most uncomfortable positions.

You try your damn-dest too, but you haven't been in a gym proper since grade school- and since when did these gyms have these fancy workout machines?

Still, Gaz helps you out like the rotten peach he is. Holding your hands when you're visibly shaking on the platform. Hand pressed on the small of your back as his other hand is resting on your tummy.

And speaking of your tummy, Gaz is pressing on the lower part of your belly as he pistons right in your gummy walls. So tight and wet, and the fact you're squeezing with his mating press is making him go insane.

While his hand is there, the other holds your leg up and out, like one of those pilates poses. Though, you're on the bed- still, it doesn't take away from the stimulation of your cunt being abused, and your core burning from holding position.

"K-kyl- Ga-" you stutter the multiple identities this man has, and he chuckles at your indecisiveness.

"Hold fo' a bi' longer..." he grits out, hips slamming into your tight cunt as your core twists and you climax. Doesn't matter though, not when Gaz hasn't reached his limit.

"A bi' longer dove... c'mon, fo' me," he tries to hide the slight falter in his voice, but it's no use as you squeezes again (despite the overstim of your cunt).

After this, you don't whine or complain since the aches have disappeared completely. He really is an acrobat, flexible fucker.

And as all great acrobats do, they can't go without practice- and thank goodness you're up to the task now.

=====================

guys i just had the fattest meal and i'm about to clock out for the night (i live in the US)

see yall in the next fic!

[f10werfae]

Hey beautiful I was wondering how lumberjack Henry would react to shy wife getting drunk? Is she a happy giggling drunk? Or just randomly confident and not shy at all? ❤️

Lumberjack!Henry Dealing with Drunk Shy!Short!Wife

A/n: Loved this idea so much I made it into a spicy sweet drabble

Disclaimer 18+ / Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist

“Hey pretty girl, I missed ya” Henry whispered helping in his drunk wife, who was clearly having a damn good time at her best friend’s hen party; too precious for her own good. “I-I miss m-my hubby n-n my m-marly” She hiccuped hugging onto Henry’s side tightly for balance, his hand subtly running down her back to give her ass a tight squeeze.

“H-hey only m-my husband can do that Mister!”

Y/n scolded wagging her finger in the older man’s face, still not recognising that it was indeed her grumpy lumberjack husband, her Henry. “Oh sorry bunbun, my apologies” He smirked helping her onto their shared bed, which was full of anything pink, from pillows to small fluffy blankets; it was all for her. Henry’s cabin used to be the epitome of dark, if possible any piece of furniture was black, but now with this little light in his life that was changed. His lunches for work had tiny love notes in them, their toothpaste was strawberry flavoured, his couch had pink covers and his bedsheets were no longer black, but a dusty pink.

That wasn’t even all of it.

“Wait! Y-you just called- called me b-bunbun, n’ o-only my husband does t-that” She said squinting her eyes as he took off her heels, massaging her poor feet, before pulling down the stockings she was wearing to protect herself from the Winter cold. “I am your husband sugar, your one n’ only lumberjack” He chuckled hovering over her as she pulled him down on top of her, her hands tracing over his nose bridge as usual, “O-oh baby i-it is you! M-missed you s-so much, need y-you so bad. I-I got a little d-drunk so am sorry, b-but I love youuu” She sang out in a little song, throwing her arms around his neck, his lips raining kisses on her face as she giggled.

“S’okay bun, remember I told ya to enjoy yourself, as long as ya text me to pick ya up, n’ ya did” Henry replied slowly, pulling down the side zipper of her black sweater dress, her head lazily nodding along to his words. “Are ya p-proud of me? M-made sure to keep an e-eye on my drinks n-n’ I didn’t go t-to the toilet a-alone, and AND! I r-replied to y-your hourly t-texts” She hiccuped smiling proudly to herself, her arms coming up so Henry could pull the dress off her, leaving her in her favourite pair and comfortable pair of granny panties; which Henry swiftly took off because of the rule, no panties indoors.

“Mhm so proud of you bun, couldn’t make me happier, did ya enjoy yourself?” Henry smirked placing a kiss right above her pussy making her shudder, before pulling up her sleep shorts, which were actually Henry’s that shrunk in the laundry. Her giggles filling his ears as she tangled her hands in his mop of curls, his hands lifting hers up to put the shirt on, but not without unclipping her bra first. “N-no, don’t wanna shirt, s’too warm” She whined flopping around like a fish, making him sigh and just throw the shirt to the side, not like he was complaining much.

“n’ what if ya get cold baby?” He quirked helping her crawl under the soft crisp covers, his hands coming to push a headband on, keeping her hair away from her gorgeous face. Reaching for the micellar water on the nightstand, he took a few cotton pads and began wiping the light makeup she had put on that night, her mouth jokingly trying to bite onto the cotton.

“Ey, no bitin’ or else no sexy time” Henry smirked instantly watching her stop and straighten her face, but her lips filled into a pout. “I-if I get cold, then I-I have you s-silly” She smiled once he finished, her head bouncing side to side on the pillow, her energy still bouncing off the walls. “Mhm you’re right bun, i’ll keep ya warm, all night” He whispered sliding into his side of the bed, his hand patting his chest invitingly as she wiggled over, her head landing on top of his pec. “Y-you’re so fuzzy n’ warm, I-I kept tellin’ the girls, th-they were sooo j-jealous. Course I told them, y-ya were mine, LOOK AT MY FINGER!” She rambled holding up her left finger, pointing at the golden wedding band sitting snugly, a giddy smile on her face as she felt Henry’s hand rubbing up and down her side.

Henry’s chest swelled with pride at the thought of his precious little wife getting the confidence to tell people she was his, proudly showing off how they claimed each other with the rings on their fingers, the next step of putting a baby in her already cooking in his head. “Gah maybe I should let you get drunk more often sugar, you’re like a little sprout of energy, but I miss my little sugar pie who needs me” He grumbled kissing her cheek wetly, hearing her squeak in delight at the affection. “I-I do need you bear, m-more than ya know, am y-your woman af-after all”

Grinning she leant up and kissed his lips sloppily, the taste of Vodka on her tongue causing Henry to smirk and deepen the kiss, her whimpers and moans being swallowed by him readily. Her fingers trying to direct his hand to her needy clit, but she failed. “W-why not?” She whined against his lips, a string of saliva connecting their mouths, her eyes glistening like stars. “Not right now bunbun, not when ya drunk alright?”

“S-so I have ta wait till mornin’ t-to h-have sexy time?”

“Well the quicker ya sleep the quicker ya wake up my love” He chuckled softly caressing her cheek, her skin soft n’ smooth to touch, the scars from her acne only defining her beauty further. “Hm okay!” She replied closing her eyes tightly pretending to sleep, before yawning and opening her eyes, “Is it morning?”

“Not funny sugar, go ta bed” He growled nipping her nipples gently, pressing a kiss to her jaw, “fine fine i’ll go to bed, mr grumpy” She whispered nuzzling into his chest, and within seconds her small snores vibrated against her husband’s hairy chest; Henry smiling triumphantly.

——-

A/n: I found this so cute and fun to write🥹🥹

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist (not accepting, please use library)

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lots of love xoxo

lots of love xx

lots of love xo

Lots of love🫶

[klausysworld]

Can i ask if you could do a yandere!klaus one where the reader gets away but gets picked up by one of his siblings?

I adore your writing

I get scared sometimes

It was cruel really.

Kol had helped me escape.

He had come up with the plan, he had given me the money to get away and told me the train schedules. He had distracted Klaus so that I could escape.

But it was a game to him.

It was a ploy to get in his brothers favour.

Kol hand me by the hair as he dragged me kicking and screaming up the stairs

“Niiik! I found your little pet!” He yelled while holding me up as though I were a fish he had caught.

Klaus’s expression was dark as he stepped out from him room

“Drop her” he commanded and Kol released me to the ground with a chuckle. I curls into myself instantly and my hands hand the back of my head hoping that he hadn’t ripped out my hair. Choked cries left my mouth as I was pulled up from the ground and carried back to Klaus’s room.

The door slammed shut beside us and I was held up by my neck, his hand had a tight grip around my throat and forced me to look up at him. I let out a sob making his eyes flash gold and a growl to crawl up from his throat

“What on earth are you crying for?” He whispered in a dangerous tone. I hyperventilated as I tried to get out from his hold but he squeezed tighter.

“No no no, you won’t be going very far now my love.” He sneered before losing his grip and having me fall to the ground once again.

“Stop” I whispered in a sob while crawling toward the bed to hide beneath it but he was picking me straight back up and shoving me onto the mattress and getting on top of me. His knees where either side of my hips and his hands held my upper arms down as his face hovered over mine.

“Would you stop running? Stop trying to leave me!” He yelled and I hiccuped on my cries as I held them in.

It wasn’t my first attempt to run away.

It was the first time I had gotten that far though. It must’ve scared him knowing I managed to get so far out of reach, if only he knew that I hadn’t done it myself.

“I’m-Im sorry” I whispered. There were limited ways I could play this.

I could throw Kol under the bus and hope that Klaus believes me which is unlikely at this moment in time.

I could fight, kick, hit scream, and eventually be tied up and gagged to shut me up.

Or I could play manipulative and hope that he’s vulnerable enough to believe me.

I stopped any struggle against him and closed my eyes. My breathing slowly evened out, when I looked back to him his eyes were sadder than before, anger still there but that insecurity was back, and it was exactly what I needed in my position.

I moved my arm cautiously, he allowed me to lift my hand up to cup his face. He leaned into my touch and sighed. I brought my other hand to cup the other side and used my thumbs to stroke his cheek bones.

He leaned forward so our foreheads pressed together, his nose brushed mine and then our lips.

“I’m so sorry” I whispered and he sighed out again, I felt some of the weight of his body on mine as he seemingly relaxed a little

“Why do you run from me?” He asked quietly

“I don’t know” I told him “I just get scared”

“Of me?” He questioned, a crack in his voice as he asks

“Of how much you love me” I murmur “I’ve never been loved so much” I brought my hand to the back of his head “And I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you….it scares me” I tell him with a sniff “I just…I figured if I left first then you wouldn’t be able to leave me”

His body entirely relaxes against me and his lips press to mine, I kiss him back softly and my fingers curl around his hair

“I’m so sorry” I whispered as he pulled away

His hands wiped my cheeks as he sat up and pulled me with him

“It’s okay, I understand” he admits and gives a small, sad smile. “But I will never, ever leave you, so please…don’t be afraid anymore” he pleads “I would never hurt you like that”

“I don’t mean to hurt you” I tell him with tears in my eyes

“I know you don’t, you’re protecting yourself” he murmured with a nod “but I will protect you now, you don’t have to worry ever again” he promises

“I can’t help it” I whispered. He pulled me to his chest and rubbed my back

“Then I’ll help you” he mumbled “you will always be safe here, I’ll stay with you…always and forever”

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies - pt. 8

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: You return to the apartment Javier set you up in, and find him waiting for you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, mentions of violence, hitting, slapping, mean words (again we got a Capricorn reader who maybe feels bad for putting Javi in this situation) mentions of fucking others, some jealousy, Javi big time emotionally damaged, shower fingering sort of smut as a way to make it up to reader, DUBCON mentions and references

A/N: Thank you guys for being patient. Honestly, February has been one of the worst months ever for me on a personal level, and so writing has both been difficult and all I would rather do. I'm thinking about how best to write the next 2 chapters, and part of me thinks I can really just have it be 1 more...we will see! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

It’s all mostly a blur.

Driving up to the apartment and noticing Javier’s vehicle parked in the driveway. The tuft of his hair poking over the top of his seat, lolled to one side as if he was asleep. 

The sun on your face as you slide sunglasses over your eyes, warming your skin as you unlock the front door. 

The way Javier’s car door shuts behind him, calling your name and following you into the apartment. It’s like you barely hear him call your name as he trails you up to the doorway.

Staring at Javier and seeing only Frankie, wondering what he is doing in the moment is the only thing you can think about. The ghost feeling of Frankie’s lips on yours as he whispered a goodbye to you just a few hours ago. His smile as he pulled you back to him, telling you to not come back to the jungle unless it was to “ruin these assholes’ day.” The way his thumb and finger pinched gently at your chin when you rolled your eyes; the way he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth until he finally leaned in to kiss you again. 

You couldn’t get those things out of your head. Swirling, swirling, swirling around as you walked around your apartment and began sliding things into cardboard boxes. 

The way Javier asks where you have been doesn’t really register. 

No, nothing is really memorable until his fingers grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him. His eyes, not trained on your face but on your shirt, welling with tears. “What happened to you?”

It was all just noise until he says that. You blink, shaking your head and pulling your wrist out of his grip. He follows you, hesitant but determined as he speaks again. “Please, hermosa I-I’ve been so worried–”

“You blew my cover.” It spills out of your mouth, holding your hand up toward his chest to silently tell him to stop moving. 

He pauses, visibly paling and mouth agape like a fish. It was hard to surprise him–you had come to know that over the months of working with him. Right now, you have somehow done so, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer. 

He blindly is reaching for the wall behind him, his knuckles flushing white as he squeezes at the door frame his hand landed on. “What?” He hiccups, looking you over and eyes continuously going to your shirt-over and over and over. 

You set the cardboard box down in your hands-half full of the trinkets he had told you to decorate with. You have this urge to suddenly go back to your own apartment. “You called me so many times that I was cornered, and I had to say who I was to not have my neck sliced open.”

It feels like a bit of an exaggeration at this moment, especially after this morning with Frankie. But it is the truth-you do not doubt that if you hadn’t said who you were, that Frankie would have killed you in that moment. 

Javier’s eyes flash back to your shirt again, and you finally look down. You find your shirt stained with dried blood, likely from the cuts that Frankie put there. “Did…d-did you get hurt?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hands releasing the door frame to run through his hair.  

You look back down to the task at hand, placing drinking glasses into the box. This overwhelming feeling of annoyance starts to course through you, hands beginning to shake as you stack each glass. The clinking, the piercing sound of glass on glass starts to rub at your bones unpleasantly. 

You close your eyes to try and recenter yourself, Javier’s pleas fading to the background again as he asks more questions. A loud crash has you opening your eyes again, glass shattered at your feet from where you’ve missed the box. Breaths come heavy, your chest rising and falling more rapidly as your anger comes to a head. “I had a fucking knife held to my throat because of you.” 

It comes barreling out of your mouth, the same way you said your cover was blown, but more angry. You’ve whirled around to him, clenching your jaw and lifting a shaking finger. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

Javier shakes his head adamantly, sniffling and blinking rapid to hold back tears. Brokenly, he asks for you to wait, to hold on before flying completely off the handle. 

You can’t help how you’re still shaking with anger, stepping forward to give Javi a shove to step away from you. “You called me so many times that I was backed into a corner, had a knife held to my throat!”

“Please, baby you weren’t coming home–”

“I had to say I was DEA! This is your fault! You called when Frankie–”

“Frankie?” His hands have clasped around your wrists now, the sadness and worry swiped away from his face in an instant. You realize your mistake, naming Frankie out loud as the person that discovered who you were, instead of one of the security guards. “What the fuck was Frankie doing keeping you an extra day? What were you doing together?”

You scoff, attempting to pull away from him but his grip tightens. Javi’s eyes are wild with anger, searching for answers he still can’t seem to find. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is my fucking business when you’re getting threatened by some drug addict that was practically fired out of his little squad he was in with Santiago Pope.” He snarls, releasing your wrists and looking around your apartment, pacing. “Really? None of my concern? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of information from him.” You attempt to sound secure in your answer, clearing your throat to have it come out louder than before. You didn’t know that about Frankie. “He wouldn’t have known or found out if you hadn’t been calling me over and over.”

Javi has the audacity to begin laughing, scratching at the back of his neck and glaring in your direction. “What, do you keep me as ‘PENA DEA’ on that phone? Are you that fucking stupid?” He’s reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one, blowing smoke directly in your face to piss you off.

You reel back, surprise overtaking your insecurity about Frankie’s past with another slew of anger.  “Are you stupid enough to call me over and over and not think that maybe I was busy gathering information? Like that maybe they are getting raided today? Right now!”

Javi stubs out the cigarette on the counter, watching the plastic burn slightly before throwing it into the sink. “Right now?” He asks, watching your single nod in defiance. He runs his hands through his hair again, not able to hold back the groan of frustration.  “And you didn’t think to come back sooner? To call me on the way? You waited until you were here?”

“They aren’t after what we’re after–”

“Stechner has been on my ass since I’ve had you on this. He’s sniffing around for a mistake, and you’re prancing around being an actual fucking whore?” He yells, face heated and eyes wide to take you in. 

And what can you do, exactly? Lie and have it be another argument? Not say the truth and have him know that you have, in fact, been sleeping with your own informant? Instead of a shrug, or an apology, or an admittance, you pull out the only thing in your arsenal that you can think of. “How is that any different than what you did before?”

He shouts as if pained by your words, hunching over himself before standing straight to point a finger at you. “I can’t believe you!” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh, your hand rubbing at your forehead.  “What were you actually fucking expecting right now, Javi? You asked me to sleep around with men for information that wasn’t even part of an active mission. And then you blew my cover, and had the audacity to yell at me!” You screech back. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately you’re back to pushing him, wanting him out of your space. You want him to leave, to leave you alone.

To his credit, Javier takes your shoves, your slaps, and only closes his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. You wonder briefly if you are going to leave a bruise on him. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, waiting patiently for your shoves to reduce to almost nothing. When he speaks it comes out calm, ready to try again. “You could have called me. Before you stayed the extra night, after he held a knife to your throat-you should have called me if you needed me.”

If you needed me. “I don’t need you.”

The pain in his eyes is apparent, reaching for you again to hold you steady against him. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and desperate to get his point across to you. “You don’t get it.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at him. He gives you a small shake, sighing deeply.”You don’t understand how terrified I was? After we fought you haven’t spoken to me, or called me back and I’ve been barely holding it together.” You go to interrupt him, but he continues. “I thought I lost you last night. Thought you were trapped, or hurt and…I shouldn’t have called you so much that it put you in danger, but if you had just told me what was going on–”

He sighs heavily, clasping a hand around the back of your neck to hold you still as his forehead presses to yours. “I need you.” A whimper bubbles out of your chest, listening to his rough swallow. “This isn’t about the money, or the side mission. I need you; do you understand?”

You open your eyes, watering and wide as you stare him down. You’re searching, trying to see if he’s lying. “You can’t guilt trip me.”

Javier holds his breath, pulling you impossibly closer. Your chest is pressed to his, and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat through the layers of clothing, pounding. “I’m not. Please, hermosa hear me.” 

It’s quiet between you, your breath puffing over his face in humid clouds. You soften slowly, tension leaving your body until you’re leaning all your weight against him. You can’t help it; you’re trying to understand. He was concerned, worried, not thinking as a boss, but as someone that cares for you. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. “I thought I lost you, baby. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a while longer, nodding when you finally decide. “I’m sorry.” You whisper against his chest, hands grabbing at the fabric. “I should have called you back.”

Javi hums, rubbing his hand down your spine gently. You pull away from him, sniffling and looking up to his face. “There’s a whole team of them…just raiding the place for money. There won’t be any proof they were there.”

Javier nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead in acceptance. “Let them take the money.”

Javier ushered you out of the apartment quickly, packing what boxes you’ve started into the back of his car and promising to stop by at a later time to get the rest of it. 

He’s such a fuck up. 

He thought he could handle this months ago, when he first met you and got you involved in this side mission. He thought that you would give some intel, they would do a raid, and that would be the end of it. 

He was sorely mistaken. 

You’re next to him in his car as he pulls away from the apartment, and his hand slips over yours. You’re stiff for a moment before looking over at him and sighing, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “You’ll never have to do that again.” He promises, and he’s not sure if he’s promising never to do undercover again, or to being away from him. 

He doesn’t want to define it in case you don’t want the latter. 

Javi keeps quiet when you don’t respond, squeezing the meat of your palm in his and rushing to his own apartment. He hadn’t told you explicitly but he was not going to leave you alone to your own devices; the dried blood on your shirt had him spiraling enough that he wanted to watch over you tonight. 

He has so many things he wants to say, but none of them come out as he unlocks his door and takes your bag for you. He wants to ask if you’re actually okay, if this is what you expected, if you were still mad at him. Were you just appeasing him to stop arguing, or were you genuinely sorry? What happened with Frankie beyond a knife to your throat that made you not tell him what was going on?

None of it comes out as you tell him quietly that you are going to take a shower. He just nods, watching you step away from him and shut the door softly behind you. No, nothing comes out of his mouth until a few minutes later after the water has started, that he hears deep breaths and sniffles echoing off the tile. 

He didn’t want to push you, but the sound of you crying was something he couldn’t handle. It urged him forward, lightly knocking on the door and calling your name. When you don’t respond he opens the door, eyes falling to your defeated figure in the stream of water. 

“Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, watching as you step away from the water to glance at him. Your eyes are red, waterlogged and shivering as you nod at him. 

“Y-yes. Yeah.” You sniffle, shaking the water from your head and attempting to cover yourself. “I’m fine.”

Javier pauses, stepping forward to close the bathroom door behind him. It’s hot in the bathroom, humid clouds floating from the shower head to him and fogging the mirror. It makes it harder to breathe, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be closer to you. Javier observes you, not letting his eyes wander much until you face him fully. He can’t help but let his eyes fall to the neat lines across your chest and collarbone, red and angry staring back at him. “What’s that?”

You look down like you weren’t aware you had cuts on your chest, dumbfounded for a moment before you give a noncommittal shrug. “Just a few scratches.”

Javi shakes his head, stepping toward the glass shower door and popping it open. A closer look is all he tells himself, just to inspect that they are fine and that you won’t die from bleeding out in the middle of the night, or of infection at a later date.

His hand reaches out tentatively, running his finger across one of the marks and looking up to your face to watch for a reaction. When you don’t have one, he sighs and let’s his eyes settle on yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb drifting up to the skin covering your pulse, rubbing back and forth as soothingly as possible. 

“You don’t need to be.” you say just as quietly, lifting a hand and resting it on his chest. The water on your hand seeps through his shirt, leaving a hot brand on his skin.

Javi’s throat closes, emotions running high. “I should have protected you.”

You shake your head, chastising him. “There was nothing more you could have done, Javi.”

He winces, pressing himself further against you. His shirt is fully soaked now, but he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have let you go in the jungle.”

“It’s okay, Javi.” You pat at his chest, pulling your hand away as if you’re only just now realizing that you’ve gotten his clothing wet. His own covers yours, bringing it back to the imprint you’ve left–he wants to feel you against him.

“Please, forgive me.” He begs; he knows he’s begging. He doesn’t beg as far as he is concerned, but something in him is crumbling. He leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, above your brow, your cheekbone, your jaw. He breathes heavily in your ear, shutting his eyes tightly.

He feels your slight nod, a quiet “I forgive you, Javi.” and he’s choked up with tears. He’s rushing to join you in the shower, a couple buttons popping off his shirt as it slides down his arms, your fingers going for the button of his jeans. 

Once he’s fully naked and pressed against you, the water is beating down on his back, your fingers drawing gentle shapes up his spine and his face resting against your shoulder. If he opens his eyes, he can see the cuts directly in front of him, and it makes him shutter more. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” You sigh, tapping with only your index finger as you think. “We’ll raid Lorea, and it will be over.”

He nods, pressing his lips to your collarbone and feeling the mark from Frankie’s knife. He wants to punch himself for not telling you sooner about what he found out. About how Fransisco Morales was a drug addict, that he was not mentally in the right place the last time he was in the military. It feels suffocating, knowing that you had been around him, speaking to him, fucking him. 

How did it all go so wrong?

His hands drift from your shoulder blades, down to your hips and give you a squeeze. “Let me make it up to you.” He gruffs, finally making eye contact with you. He sees your confusion, your sudden realization of what he means.

“You…you don’t have to.” You say quietly, letting his fingers drift to the curve of your stomach. Watching him, carefully assessing. 

“I want to. If you want me to?” He watches your pupils blow wide, interest peaking as his thumb brushes through the patch of hair above your center, moving down, down, down. 

You sigh heavily, swallowing and nodding again. Javier is convinced that if he can make you feel good like he knows he can, then maybe you’ll actually start to forgive him. Even if it’s slowly. His fingers drift between your folds, up and down as lightly as possible. You squirm against him, spreading your legs just enough to let his knee hold one to the side. 

Javi looks down, leaning a bit away to get a better look at you while his other hand is still wrapped around the back of your neck, soothing circles into your jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Javier growls through clenched teeth, letting a finger swipe quick circles over your clit. 

You pant, reaching a hand out to his bicep and squeezing. No response, just the acknowledgement of your moan is all that he needs. 

A single finger is pressed into you, curling over and over as his eyes flick back up to yours. He’s desperate to watch you unfold, feel you pulse around a finger, anything to give him the approval, the want that he desires. 

You’re quick to finish, his thumb brushing back and forth over your clit while his finger curls inside of you, his eyes on yours as he talks you to completion. “So fucking perfect, in my place, taking what you want from me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to yours as if to seal the deal between you. 

When he pulls away, your eyes opening and half lidded in exhaustion, he reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. Javi helps you out of the shower, drying the both of you efficiently before guiding you into his bedroom where he’s already placed out clothes for you to sleep in. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need something, okay? Get some rest.”

He waits for your small smile and nod, hanging by the door for a moment to see his shirt fall over your torso before heading to the kitchen. He planned to stay up for the rest of the evening and through the night, planning this raid on Lorea and letting you finally get some rest. 

[planetharrie]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Partied a Lil’ Too Hard

Available to read on my Wattpad @PlanetHarrie

In which Harry’s possibility of holding his liquor is tested to the limits and he leaves a thoughtful gift for his fiancée the following morning.. 🍾🧺😷

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting

(not quite sure why I put Niall as character when Harry’s not famous, oops!🫣)

⭐️

"Alright big guy," Niall wheezed as an unstable Harry began drooping from his drunken grip, "lean on me—that's it, buddy."

They were both drunk; Harry more on the plastered side. Tonight was Niall’s birthday celebration and he'd been drinking like it was his 21st birthday party and not Niall's. The said birthday-boy was holding up Harry's entire body weight on his right side as they stumbled down m the plastered-man’ lamppost-lighten street.

"Here we are, H." The ex-blonde pushed Harry into his front garden when they arrived at his and Lucille's house and had him lean against the frame of the front door. Before knocking, Niall fished his phone out from his pocket; it was about to hit 2 A.M on the dot and he winced. The likelihood of Lucille being awake at this hour was far from high.

Despite his doubt, Niall rapped two of his knuckles on the oak and stepped back while biting his lip. He scanned the house for any lights or sign of life inside and breathed a sigh of relief when the hallway light beamed through the glass of the front door. Rustling of keys was heard on the other side.

Niall's drunk eyes wandered over to Harry who's body was slumped and looked like it was about to kneel over. His chest hitched with a drunk hiccup.

"Mate, brush your teeth when you get in; for Lucille's sake if not yours." Niall grimaced at the putrid stench of booze practically radiating off of his friend.

"Shu'thefuckup. ." Was what Harry slurred back and swallowed warily afterwards with a hand placed on his sloshing stomach.

Lucille eventually opened the door, revealing herself wrapped up in her short, silk dressing gown. Her hair was falling out of its plait and she was squinting with tired and confused eyes under the warm hallway light.

"Hey, Luce." Niall started. He eyed Harry's fiancé carefully as he helped Harry stand straighter. "Sorry for waking you; he's absolutely hammered."

"I. . . can see that. . ." She stepped back and allowed Niall to nudge Harry inside. "Did he forget it was your birthday party and not his?"

"Ello, m'lovie." Harry slurred. Lucille could only attempt a smile but it turned into more of a grimace as she stared up and down her fiancé; he was shirtless, sweaty and his jeans were low and showing his boxers.

"Niall, where's his top?"

She was passed Harry's t-shirt which was clearly congealed with a portion of last night's dinner and drinks down its front. She sighed and draped it over the stair banister.

"Well, thanks for bringing him back. Guess I'm on babysitting duty for tonight." Lucille folded her arms.

"Well, he's your fiancé!" Niall sarcastically saluted as he backed out of the house. Lucille shoved his chest and pushed her front door shut, leaving her and Harry alone.

Now that Niall had left, she unwrapped her dressing gown and draped it across the banister on top of Harry's soiled shirt. She was left in a see-through white tank top that was bunched up around her waist from sleep and a pair of plain black panties. Harry cheekily cupped one of her boobs and smirked.

"Y'look so pretty, Baby. . ." Harry pulled her into his chest and kissed her hair. He'd always been a real cuddly person when he'd get drunk.

Lucille rubbed his bare back with a dry laugh but quickly froze and grimaced when he suppressed a drunk burp into her hair. Her eyes widened and she pulled back, staring up at Harry, who only looked back at her innocently.

"Gross, H!" She chuckled and pulled away, "it's bed time for you.”

"M'not tired, Luce!" He whined, "jus' wanna kiss you all over, Baby. . . m’pretty girl. . .”

Lucille gently took his hands from her chest, "No chance, Mister. Sleep; now."

Harry eventually trudged up the wooden hill and stripped his jeans off and climbed into bed. He'd actually fallen twice while trying to actually clamber onto the mattress but finally got settled with Lucille's help. She too climbed in and tried tucking him under the duvet,

"No, 's too hot." He pouted and rolled over onto his side, his back facing Lucille.

"Too hot for a cuddle?"

Harry's ears seemed to perk up and he rolled back over and spooned his fiancé. She giggled softly and stroked his cheek.

"Did y'have fun tonight?" Lucille whispered softly, breathing in his cologne and alcohol-mixed scent. The answer she received was a soft snore. Her face was gobsmacked and she rolled over with a joking scoff, squirming into Harry's big spoon and drifted off to sleep.

⭐️

When Harry woke up later the same morning, he was met with a face full of sunshine barging in through the window. He groaned and squinted while shakily covering his eyes with his hands.

Lucille was already awake and sat up against the headboard on her laptop when her hungover fiancé aroused from his post-drunk slumber. She set the computer aside and stroked Harry's bed-hair out of his face.

"Hey. . . how're you feeling?" Her voice cooed quietly. The reply she got was another grumble and her fingers pinched her reading glasses to rest them on the top of her own bed-head.

"The sun? Wha'the fuck?"

"Sorry, I opened the curtains; thought it would be good for you to have some vitamin-D on your face," She shrugged slightly, "I can close them if you like?"

"Yes, please." Harry mumbled. Lucille padded over to the window and drew the curtains shut before climbing back into bed.

"Sleep well? It's nearly one in the afternoon!"

Harry slouched himself against the headboard and rubbed the sleep from his eye as he recollected his thoughts. "Not bad; was sick at one point though.."

Lucille frowned and worry crossed her features. She shifted slightly so that she could fully face Harry; she couldn't help the flow of concerned questions that rambled out her mouth.

"You were? Where? Are you still feeling sick?"

"In the bucket." Harry simply replied with a yawn tailing. Lucille's frown only deepened; what bucket?

"What bucket, Harry?" She began subtly glancing around their bedroom for a puddle of stomach contents soaked into their carpet.

"The bucket you left out for me, Luce." Harry shortly snapped, his hand flopping to from his face to his side in frustration. He looked up at his fiancé and was slightly frightened at the complete confusion written on her face. "Lucille!The bucket at the end of the bed!"

His fiancée shook her head. "Babe, I didn't—" Lucille paused and crawled a little to peer over the edge of the bed.

She had been correct; she hadn't left a bucket out for Harry that night which meant that the said 'bucket' was actually their round laundry basket with a pile of freshly-folded, clean clothes inside. "Fuck, Harry!"

Lucille rounded the bed and picked up her basket as Harry swung his legs of the edge of the mattress and sat up. She had a look of disgust and horror on her face as she shoved her clean clothes under Harry's chin. His eyes widened.

"Shi-i-it. . ." He drew out and scratched his forehead shamefully, "God, I'm so sorry."

Crusty, half-dried vomit soaked into the t-shirt on top of the folded pile and Harry had to swallow a gag from erupting while he stared at his mess.

"Luce, I'm really sorry but can you please—" He swallowed cautiously and pushed the plastic washing basket away, "—get it away; it's making me feel weird."

Lucille sighed and dropped the basket to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed next time him, running her hand through his hair. He leaned into her touch and shut his eyes momentarily. "Fancy some breakfast then?” She offered softly but she knew the answer she was going to get.

"Nah, I-I'm good. For now at least.”

"I was thinking pancakes? . ."

"No—seriously I'm good, Lucille. . .”

"With thick maple syrup drizzled on top. ."

Harry gagged (ever so slightly) at the description of Lucille's ideal breakfast, earning a laugh from her. "Alright, alright; I'll stop." She glanced at Harry's features.

His face was an uncomfortable grey colour and his hair was suddenly plastered with sweat to his forehead, making it look like he had some kind of bowl haircut. "Hey. . . You 'kay?"

Her hand slowly began rubbing up and down his bare back while Harry slowly swallowed with a weary shake of his head.

He felt her lean across him and opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a glass of foggy water being waved in front of him. She told him to take a sip. Before he could listen to his nauseous stomach and decline, Harry realised how dry and stale his mouth and throat felt and took the glass in both hands.

The water slid down his throat; it felt good and refreshing so he took another two sips before placing the glass back down on his bedside table.

"Ergh—god. . ." Harry grimaced, his green eyes blinked slowly as he stared at a spot of the carpet intensely. The water wasn't feeling good in his stomach as it did going down his throat.

"What's wrong?" Lucille questioned, tickling the back of his neck softly.

"The water. ." His throat bobbed and Lucille watched the grey fade into green in his complexion. "it's hit my stomach like a rock."

Lucille hesitated before opening her mouth to suggest laying back down. That was then Harry quickly stood up with slight panic but slowed his walking pace when he began heading for the bedroom door.

"Where're you going?!"

An incoherent reply drew quiet when Harry walked down the landing and swiftly shut the bathroom close behind him. Lucille stayed seated, twiddling her engagement ring while listening for Harry to come back from the bathroom.

It was the agonising retch from down the hall that had her standing up and bounding into the bathroom. Harry was knelt in front of the toilet with his head hanging just above the bowl; his mouth opened with a gag and his shoulders rolled forward as he heaved up his second bout.

Lucille swore under her breath and bent down at the waist to smooth back Harry's sweat-soaked hair from his face. With her own hair in her eyes, she scanned the bathroom counter for Harry's mini claw clip and briskly pinned back his fringe. She then knelt down behind him and rubbed the nape of his neck while he panted over the toilet. Harry moaned and shifted closer to his safe-haven, holding his head in one of his propped-up arms on the toilet seat.

"Shhh, you're okay. ." Lucille cooed to her fiancé. Harry barely felt her kiss and rest her forehead on his bare, sweaty back before he rocked forward with another dire retch.

"Lucille." Harry called for her between bouts of projectile vomiting and her heart broke; she'd never heard him sound so vulnerable before. She watched in pity as he reached down and held his bare stomach while profusely spitting into his mess in the water.

"I know, Lovely; just get it all up and you'll feel so much better. . ."

"'S all jus' alcohol—no food." Harry breathily hiccuped at the swirling sight of his sick in the toilet. Lucille reached up and flushed away last night's mistakes before pulling Harry into her lap and tucking his head into her chest.

"Do you feel any better?" She whispered, stroking his hairline. He gulped and nodded, his warm breath fanning her collarbone. Lucille smiled to herself and rubbed slow, firm circles along his back.

The two sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence, Lucille rocking them both side to side ever so slightly.

Harry pulled away from her touch and sat up after a while and Lucille was on high alert, thinking he was going to be sick again. Her panic settled when he cracked his cheeky smile and tucked her hair behind her ear,

"Lucille, I think I'm ready to stomach some of those pancakes of yours."

⭐️

[madhattervanessa]

Kill You To Try (Chapter 3)

-

Summary: Weeks go by and eventually, the numbness of grief forces you back to the ranch. You're caught between two chairs.

Warnings: self harm-ish things, isolation

Words: 2109

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A/N: So sorry for the late chapter guys, I'm currently struggling with a uni project that got completely dismissed by my prof and some other life stuff - I might edit this chapter a little next week but I didn't want to leave you guys without anything :)

-

You must have fallen asleep,... again. The porch chair, despite its rotten-looking wood, offers a charming comfort. That, combined with the look out towards the water providing just enough ambient sounds, has continuously proven to make you drift off. 

It's not like you could actively remember the past few weeks.

The dust you had whirled up into the air more than a week ago now has settled again, nestling into the crooks of the wood and the dried lavender you had hung above the window of the kitchen. It had been a measly attempt at smoothing out the musky scent of the settling wood beams and the peaty soil underneath. 

Now that you've grown accustomed to it... the days are flying by. 

Mainly because you keep staring into the water, dozing off, and thinking about where it had all gone wrong. How you ended up here.

The faint gurgle of the water, the occasional hiccup and splash of the gentle stream kissing the mossy, slick stones brings you back and makes you open your eyes again. There's the faint chill biting on your cheeks, a testament to how much time you'd spent on the porch already.

Maybe you should leave the blanket inside when you come out in the morning.

You twist the artfully woven fabric mindlessly in your fingers, back and forth. The loose lint gets scraggly underneath the pressure, the fine fabric strings hooking into each other and balling up.

You frown at it, thinking about the few words you had managed to string together on your laptop since you had moved into the cabin.

A splash makes you look up from your musing. A lazy drift of your eyes, more like, still without coffee and food because the food you got from Gabriel every now and then had run out by now.

Your eyes wander over the river until you spot a brown bear.

Just barely in the first few gleams of the sun, it trudges deeper into the water, uncaring of your presence on the other side of the river.

You should probably take up cooking again.

Give yourself something to do; maybe you should cook something for Gabriel, at least once, in return.

A fish from the stream, perhaps.

You squint against the bright light, the reflections on the water, and find the bear, quite unsuccessfully, snapping at fish swimming past.

It has been a week since you've been down at the ranch.

Your fingers are itching for something to do.

Then again, meeting the judging, worried look from the Senior of the Dutton family has started to lose its appeal. It makes your skin crawl to see the gruff man level such a soft, understanding look at you without much prompting.

-

"Hey, sunshine."

"Hey yourself- you busy?" You set your tote bag with the empty Tupperware down at your usual spot at the kitchen island before glancing at Gabriel. He is chopping away at something, diligently working, even as you lean against the kitchen counter next to him. You watch his arm move, the way he fills the shirt up that he had chosen for today.

"A little. Working on supper preparations." He briefly turns and flashes a charming smile before he continues chopping some zucchini. "How was your week away from the ranch?"

"Insightful. I brought you something for all that food you made me. Just... a favor in return for a favor."

Perfectly cubed pieces of vegetable join the others in the big bowl next to him and you watch as he puts down the knife. When he dries his washed hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, he finally meets your eyes again. 

"That's awfully nice."

"I would have bought you a bottle of something good to drink but I don't really know what you like."

He chuckles with a slight nod before he risks a look towards the kitchen island where you have deposited the filled box.

"What's in it?"

"Special dinner. Didn't have time to make dessert, otherwise, I would have made you some of my homemade cinnamon buns."

"Mh, I've heard good things about those."

"Oh, is that so?"

You nudge him with your elbow before looking over the kitchen countertop more closely - the bowl is a rainbow of colors and you see a box of steak, deep in the mix of paprika orange and streaks of muted greens, a marinade that already looks promising. It's like you can smell the colors.

"Well, maybe we can make those together sometime soon, then." He nudges you back and you chuckle before hopping off the counter again.

"Yeah right. Every cook I know despises baking."

"Yeah because it's like chemistry-"

"-like chemistry", you say at the same time. You grin wolfishly before knocking on the countertop wood, twice.

"Well, I better go out to the barn. Check on the horses."

"Want me to walk you over?"

"What, do you think a wolf will get me?"

"Nah. I just... I could use the fresh air."

"Uhm, sure."

He throws a towel over the cubed veggies.

You don't say much when he follows you outside.

What are you even doing?

"Hardly noticed how nice the weather is today", Gabriel mutters, scratching his beard as you approach the barn. You hum and look out towards the mountains.

"Maybe you need to get out more often."

"Hey, I do get out." He smiles, despite the admonishment. You give him an unbelieving look.

"Yeah, right, Gator", you huff and turn into the barn. He stops right at the border of the first concrete tile and leans up against the wooden door.

"Well if you don't believe me, I'll just have to prove it. You free this weekend?"

You're mute.

What?

He is still staring at you, waiting for an answer, unabashedly waiting out the awkward silence.

"I uhh- I'll have to look into my calendar, I guess."

"When you do, you know where to find me."

You're left with no further explanation, your eyes following Gabriel until he is back at the lodge.

-

You don't know if you want to answer him, today, though. 

You frown and hold your breath as you push your hand deeper into the cow - it lows as you do and you shush it as you carefully press further.

"You look beautiful today, Bones!"

You glare at the young farmhand calling out to you and manage to raise your middle finger at him.

"Aren't those boys happy about summer starting", you grumble. You finally manage to feel the organ you had been looking for. John chuckles, leveling an amused look at the guys working the herd in the other gutter.

"You know how they get."

"Wish they'd get more useful, sometimes", you mutter, still busy mapping out the reproductive system of the cow.

John hums, still leaning onto the metal cage the cow is fixated in, leaving you just enough room so you don’t feel uncomfortable but always close enough to peer over your shoulder.

“So, what’s going on?”

You draw your arm back after another minute with a short murmur to the cow.

“There’s some abnormalities around the ovaries and uterus. I’m going to suggest we keep her in while I do some tests. But most likely she’s going to be useless for breeding, John”, you sigh as you tug your plastic glove off. He notes it down in his notebook, nodding slightly.

You throw your dirty glove into your bucket and move over to the side to draw some blood from the neck of the cow where Rip is standing.

He smiles at you as you take a short moment to pat the cow’s neck.

“Rip!”

His head whips up towards John’s voice, his legs already in motion. He pats your shoulder as he passes you. As you rummage for a needle in your case, you catch him looking at you while he listens to John.

A cheeky smile briefly breaks his serious grimace before he turns away from you again.

You busy yourself withdrawing some blood from the cow's neck, carefully filling up a few more vials that you stash in the cooled box next to your case.

"Alright," you call out as you straighten up, your eyes on the boys in the back. ", send me the next one in, guys! We still have two more left!"

You straighten your head and use your bandana to wipe off some sweat that had built on your forehead and neck.

It takes a few more hours to finish your work, carefully checking over all of the cows that would be used for breeding this year before you do the actual dirty work the next week.

“Got everything?”

You look up from your cooled box of blood vials, your pen hovering over your notebook pages with the cattle numbers. Rip has your travel mug in hand, the light clinking of the metal immediately giving away the contents.

"Well, now I do. When did you have time to make me an iced coffee?”

“Who said I made it”, he just retorts, pushing the cool container into your free hand. You squint at him before taking a sip and noting the last few comments down before you shut the book.

“Well I know damn well that nobody would willingly put oat milk in coffee in this part of the country”, you murmur- you chance a look towards the Dutton house and feel your cheeks flush as you see Gabriel leaning over the sill to wave at you.

Oh. So that’s where the coffee had come from.

You wave back and take another sip before you look back at Rip.

He’s looking out towards the ranch, checking on god knows what- maybe the farmhand busy doing the dirty work of the day.

“Do you need any help moving your stuff up?”

“The blood vial case is a bit heavy but I’ll be fine. After all, that is going on Milton’s back, not mine.” 

“Just askin’. I'm going into town to get groceries. Want to come along?"

"Oh- I am-" you stop and frown. "No, actually, I could use some groceries, now that you mention it."

"I'll pick you up at the cabin, later, then."

"That would be great, thanks, Rip." You lean your head against his shoulder for a brief moment before looking up at him. He is already looking at you - it makes you squirm, that look.

"I'll come pick you up in an hour."

You don't think you've ever seen Rip without at least two pieces of clothing that identify him as a cowboy: It's always a hat, the boots, the belt, and maybe one of the Dutton logos on his shirts.

"Alright."

-

You grin to yourself as you watch a younger man glancing at Rip nervously from the produce aisle. 

You gently squeeze the tomato in your hand before grabbing a few to put in your cart. Rip is frowning at some cucumbers next to you. 

"Stop frowning like that, you're scaring every teenager in the vicinity", you mutter and nudge him before picking one of the cucumbers for yourself.

"Just thinking."

"You want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing important, doll." 

You bite your lip instead of disagreeing. Instead, you focus on picking out some more produce, the faint 2000s summer playlist playing in the background. The AC is already blasting even though summer has barely started - you're almost freezing in your thinned-out sweatshirt. It's blissfully empty around this time in the grocery store- well, as empty as these giant stores can get.

Rip eventually catches up to you in the fruit juice aisle where you swear your teeth are chattering.

"I shouldn't buy this much- I can barely get all of this up to the cabin."

"I'll drive you back, you know that, right?"

He's close. Hovering. You two haven't been this close in months.

You miss the comfort of his hugs.

It's the only thing you can think about as you stare into the overfilled shelf.

"Pick some up so we can have those fancy little cocktails you like to make. Don't play shy about it."

"So what you're saying is you want me to make some cocktails again because you have been missing having those fancy fruity little drinks with me."

He doesn't say anything, just leans so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

"If you tell on me, I'll tell the greenhorn you have a crush on him."

"Ohhh, I'm shaking in fear."

"Knew it wasn't just the cold."

Rip leans back again and you smile as you pick out a few juice bottles, despite the chill. 

He forces you to take his jacket when you get into the truck again and drives the two of you home.

You spend the next two days hugging yourself, wound up in it as you let your feet dangle into the cool water of the stream.

You do it until you feel your toes go numb. After going inside and warming them up, you do it again, your eyes steadily on the rush and splash of the water, the reflections playing with the lights.

The groceries stay untouched.

-

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