#how much would i feel it’s absence if i set it down and left it behind

[albinokittens300]

!Spoilers Under The Cut!

Last critical leaning post, but warning I am gonna boarderline vent here. Hopefully after this I can take up enjoying the vagueness the ending left us with but. Still gotta get this out.

Gonna say it: I swear they just were to scared to give Jinx a positive ending. Like they had such a perfect set up for it and plain and simple the writers were not brave enough to give her the ending she should have gotten.

I wholeheartedly disagree with this idea of her running away is a good ending. It's a terrible one, because it doesn't allow her to heal anything. It allows her to run away from what she needs to heal. It's avoidance not growth. Guess I can be happy she wasn't really dead but that's kinda the most positive thing I can say about her exiling herself by leaving. And this being what is probably a sacrifice for Vi's happyness when it also takes her away from whatever is very clearly being built between her and Ekko? Again. That's not good in my opinion. It's going backwards for her. Chooseing things based on what someone else wants, not herself.

And let me be clear: leaving behind the two people she loves and has a connection with? Is completely out of character for her.

So unless it is intentionally meant to be a short lived absence, which we have nothing inplying that to be the case, I think her leaving is only a few points better than her actually dieing.

It would have made so much more sense to show her coming back and joinning the Firelights and the others who were fighting with them. Her sacrifice, than her walking in amongst a group of Zaunites and Ekko noticing her and a laugh as she plays with him for a minute. It's an open ended thing- we don't know if she really is fully joinning them, how she feels about the new situation between the cities, or Vi- but she is there and faceing the new.

THAT would be so many worlds better than her just being assumed dead and leaving her life completely behind. Because doing that doesn't break the cycle of killing the way Silco was encourageing her to do- it just prevents her from having to make any changes.

Whew. Okay. There, off my chest.

I do have a whole post like this about Episode 7 that I might get the heart up to actually post. Though, I almost refuse just on grounds so many Timebomb fans are loving and enjoying it. The last thing I want to do is tear it down, even if I haveing a harder time of it.

But hopefully with this out I can play with some of the freedom this ending did bless us with. If nothing else, I can have any ending I want because they just let Jinx fly off.

[deep-peach]

i think the best long term takeaway i had from konmari is “discernment”

i used to keep everything i liked bc i liked it so why not

but now, for ex. with perfumes, if i find a nice rain scent, it’s compared to the best rain scent i have, and if it’s not better than that why would i spend $$$ on a bottle? i have enough nice rose smells, i’m not really looking for more. the best plumeria scent i’ve ever smelled outside of a fresh blossom exists, why do i need more tiare or frangipani in my collection? sometimes similar scents fulfill different purposes or needs but i must say that i’ve kept my wishlist insanely pared down compared to what it would’ve been 5 or especially 10 years ago.

feels nice (*´꒳`*)

[smokesandsonatas]

I just want to see the Octavinelle trio get surprised, tongue-tied and amused because the reader is cunning.

Characters: Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

Warnings: None, just the old contract signing the Octavinelle way. First person pov. Mostly in Azul's pov. Tension (?).

Not beta read.

Shrimp Cocktail.

Apparently, it does not take a lot to amuse the Octavinelle trio. Or the story where you took a deal with Azul and it went unexpectedly.

They should learn not to underestimate Shrimpy.

Azul had always underestimated you. In his eyes, you were a mere human—a dimwitted fish floundering in the waters of Night Raven College. You lacked the cunning and intelligence of Jade, who could manipulate any situation with a few well-placed words, and you weren’t a lazy smartass like Floyd, who could memorize an entire book but discard it just as easily if he found it dull and boring. With your easy-going nature, you seemed like the perfect prey.

Well, you are the perfect prey.

Here you are, sitting in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the twins flanking you in chairs beside you. Floyd lounged with a lazy grin, manspreading on the sofa, while Jade sat, poised like a gentleman, a smirk barely concealed behind his gloved hand. Grim had been left behind at the ramshackle dorm, leaving you alone in the scammer's den. Azul could barely contain his amusement—you had just fallen into his trap, one he fully intended to exploit. You sat quietly in front of him, your face poised with a neutral expression. To Azul and the twins, you looked kind, naive—perhaps even a little stupid. They think you are an airhead. Their excitement was barely contained. They got you right where they wanted you to be. Here in Mostro Lounge, with no one but them watching over you like predators waiting to pounce and choke their prey.

"You're here for the favor of us providing Grim with food three times a day, seven days a week, for the duration of your absence with Professor Trein as the school's official photographer at an event outside Night Raven College," Azul began, his voice dripping with the saccharine politeness he used to mask his true intentions. "In exchange, you agreed that you will work for fourteen days, regular shifts, without any compensation for Mostro Lounge. I expect you to fully commit to your duties."

You nodded, hands neatly placed on your lap, a small smile on your lips. "Yes, that’s exactly it."

Jade’s grin widened slightly. You were so naive, so predictable. Pathetic, really—but there was something endearing about your earnestness. Everyone in Octavinelle liked this about you—how you walked into traps with your eyes wide open, never realizing until it was too late. You really are a shrimp, through and through. No sense of survival, no sense of fear.

Jade could feel his twin looking earnestly in you, their expression one of amusement.

You will never survive in the ocean.

"Very well then, Prefect," Azul continued, practically trembling with excitement as he handed you a golden scroll, a quill magically appearing in his gloved hand. "Sign this contract, and the favor you ask shall be yours."

You took the pen, hovering it just above the dotted line. Azul’s eyes gleamed with anticipation—just a few more minutes—seconds, and you’d be bound by his terms, forced into two weeks of unpaid labor. The satisfaction was almost too much to bear. You would be working without compensation, and Azul could even charge you for any drinks or food you will consume during your shifts!

Azul had also noticed that whenever you work, customers come flocking in! Is it because you're the famed Ramshackle dormleader? He can only suspect so. He might also have you gather more customers—all for free, technically, you are working free to him anyway.

Azul raised an eyebrow when he saw you set the pen down and lean back, that small smile on your lips widening into something sharper, more calculating.

Azul frowned.

"Azul," you began, your voice light and casual, but with an edge that made the room’s atmosphere shift. The twins noticed it too. Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly yet the smirk remains in his lips, and Floyd’s grin widened a little more as they both watched you closely—their eyes glued to you as a clear sign of their newfound interest.

Azul blinked, thrown off by your sudden change in demeanor. "Is something wrong, Prefect?"

"Not at all," you replied smoothly. "I’ve just been thinking about our arrangement. Fourteen days of unpaid work for three meals a day for Grim. It sounds like a fair trade, but then I realized something interesting."

Azul’s hand twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. The contract is perfect in his eyes, all will favour him, how could it not be perfect? "And what might that be?"

You leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Well, the contract is almost perfect. Almost. But there’s one tiny detail that caught my attention—the meals for Grim. You’ve agreed to provide them three times a day, seven days a week, but the contract doesn’t specify the quality of those meals, does it?"

Azul’s smirk faltered, it is common sense that Grim will be given tuna in cans, isn't it? "The meals will be adequate, and his favourite tuna—"

"Ah, ‘adequate,’" you interrupted, your tone almost playful. "That could mean anything, really. Some stale bread, leftover scraps—technically, that would fulfill the contract, wouldn’t it?" You giggle, a sound so sweet it almost had the twins—in their fascination, to stand up and hover behind you. You heard a thud, no doubt it was the twins. Jade’s eyes narrowed, yet his smirk remains, replaced by a look of intrigued and amusement. Floyd sat up straight, fully intending to be by your side yet his uniform was immediately yanked down by Jade, stopping him from interfering. Floyd almost let out a hiss at his twin, though eventually he relents.

"But here’s where things get interesting," you continued, voice dropping to a near sweet tone that Azul use. "If Grim receives such ‘adequate’ meals, he might not be satisfied. A can of tuna alone won't cut it, he needs meat. A properly cooked, healthy meat seeing as he is a carnivore. He could get hungry, irritated—perhaps even cause trouble." You pout—a gesture which distracted Azul for a second as his eyes fell on your lips—appearing as meek as possible, "And as his caretaker, his henchman, I’d be worried. Distracted. And a distracted worker is an inefficient worker."

You locked your eyes against Azul's blue ones.

Azul’s eyes widened as he began to see where you were leading him. He blinked in intrigued and a mix of irritation and amusement.

"And," you pressed on, now leaning on the table, merely inches away from Azul's face. "if Grim were to get sick or cause problems because of poor nutrition, it wouldn’t just be a problem for me." You roll the scroll and use it to poke Azul's chest. "It would be a problem for Mostro Lounge. After all, you’re responsible for providing his meals, for almost a week at that. Any disruption he causes would reflect poorly on your business, wouldn’t it?"

Azul’s mind raced as he tried to find a loophole, but you had him cornered. Refusing your amendment meant sticking to a contract that could end up causing more trouble than it was worth. Agreeing to it, however, would mean committing to a higher standard of care for Grim, cutting into his profits. Twenty-one cans of tuna is not a big expense for him, but if you're to insist on nutritious meals... Well, that would cost him much more than what he intended to provide for your gremlin of a cat.

A simple overlooked in his part really, perhaps it is his fault for thinking you're one of those anemones that will blindly agree to anything without reading the fine print.

Finally, Azul forced a smile. "What do you propose, Prefect?"

You smiled sweetly, as if this were all a friendly discussion. "I propose that the meals provided for Grim meet a specific standard. Balanced, nutritious, and satisfying. A mix of tuna and properly cooked meat. A steak even. That way, Grim stays in good condition, I stay focused on my task outside of Night Raven College, and Mostro Lounge continues to run smoothly." You smiled at Azul as you lean at the table—mere inches away from his face, the octomerman can practically inhale your scent, have you always smelled this good?

"I also propose that I won't do overtime during my shifts for fourteen days, though I will not get paid, I would love it if my meals and drinks are free of charge—all within the time of my shift, of course."

You smiled sweetly at Azul—the way you don't break eye contact. It's exhilarating. It's making him sweat under his dorm uniform. "It’s in everyone’s best interest, don’t you think?"

Azul hesitated. This was not the agreement he had envisioned. His meticulously designed scheme had been dismantled by your shrewd maneuvering. We're you secretly a trickster? Appearing naive and helpless yet you are the one who catches people in your trap of being a false prey.

With a begrudging sigh, he conceded, "Very well, I’ll agree to the contract your propose. The meals provided for Grim will meet the specified standards, and you shall have the favours you asked during the course of your shift at Mostro Lounge."

You picked up the pen again, a triumphant glint in your eyes as you prepared to finalize the deal. A sweet, sweet, smile on your lips. "Thank you, Azul. I’m so glad we could come to an agreement."

As you signed the contract, Azul's sense of triumph morphed into a tumult of frustration and begrudging admiration. It's disgusting, your body language appeals to him—he knows it appeals to the twins too, given how Floyd is laughing right now, with Jade snickering beside him. You're one of the first—if not the first who had successfully turned the tables on him. It is not even a heavy contract, just an agreement for food and yet, Azul concedes to your demands. Though he suppose it is not bad, since he will see you everyday for almost two weeks. What had seemed like a one-sided victory for him had morphed into a more balanced exchange. You had come into his office alone, seemingly naive, and yet you had outmaneuvered him with words that unsettled him deeply, yet amused him greatly—jellyfishes swimming on his stomach. Perhaps during that time for your compensation he will invite you to his office so he can give you a proper assessment.

Heh, not bad at all.

Jade and Floyd had their mismatched eyes glued on your form, as you stand. Admiring the sway of your hips as you walk outside the room where nobody ever comes out as victorious as you are. You, a small shrimp, had greatly amused the twins. Unfortunately for you, Floyd hates being bored and Jade loves unpredictability—both qualities you tickled the moment you succesfully negotiated a deal with none-other-than Azul Ashengrotto.

As you left the room, Floyd let out a low, almost purring chuckle—how dare you Shrimpy? His blood is now pumping in excitement because of you. "Hehe, Shrimpy’s got some real bite, huh? This is gonna be interesting."

Jade’s gaze followed you with a newfound intensity. "Indeed. The prefect is far more dangerous than they appear. Heh, perhaps they relish the game, much like we do."

Azul was left staring at the contract, his frustration intertwined with a growing, unsettling admiration. You weren’t the dimwitted fish he had thought you were. No, you were a tempest—a captivating, unpredictable force in the waters of Octavinelle. The way you had twisted the terms of the agreement had left him both disturbed and intrigued. Your brilliance was both unsettling and exhilarating, making him realize that you were a much more dangerous fish than he had ever anticipated.

A shiver of something dark and obsessive crept into his thoughts. You had managed to turn a simple negotiation into a display of strategic dominance, leaving him with a dangerous mix of respect and a growing, unsettling fascination. The twins are no better, Jade glues you into his memory, the way you answer casually—it is attractive. Floyd is well, Floyd. He might visit you later and compliment you for outsmarting Azul!

Hehe, who would've thought you are a predator in your own right? Perhaps the shrimp cocktail is a dish best served cold after all.

[mariasont]

GOOD LUCK CHARM - A.H

a/n: this came to me yesterday and i sat my ass down and WROTE

that should be me fr

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

warnings: just my babies being so infatuated with each other it literally hurts, hotch is a pining fool, i love him, i need him, i want to kidnap him to my basement

wc: 0.8k

Hotch was having a rough day. He had never put much stock in the idea of luck, favoring the belief that a path was carved from the choices made. However, if he were to entertain the notion of luck, he would concede that today, he seemed to be rather out of it.

A lot had gone wrong. For starters, he had stained his favorite white dress shirt with coffee this morning. This undoubtedly set the precedent for the day, he was sure.

As soon as he arrived at his office, he was greeted not by the familiar click of the lock but by a stubborn door that refused to budge, his key sitting on the side table in his apartment. This then led to him reaching out to the custodian for a spare, only to be intercepted by Chief Strauss, who, in her usual fashion, had a litany of critiques ready for the BAU.

The day had been steadily unraveling, and the realization that you wouldn't be in until lunch because of a doctor's appointment was the tipping point. Normally, all these minor irritations could be overlooked, but in your absence, he could truly grasp just how much he relied on you.

You handled a lot on his plate, if not everything. You planned out his schedule, answered his phone calls, you double-checked his paperwork. You consistently shouldered more than he ever asked, despite his repeated warnings about overloading yourself--warnings that he, admittedly, never listened to.

Time seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. He found himself unwittingly watching the door, anticipating the bright burst of pink and the shimmer that accompanied you, but unfortunately that did not happen. Lunch couldn't come quick enough.

His vision began to waver, the words on the page melting into an indecipherable stew as he pressed a long finger into his temples. The lamp at the edge of the desk flickered capriciously. A mental note to replace it was quickly overshadowed by the more pressing need for an aspirin, prompting him to reach for the left drawer.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, fingers reaching into the space as he pulled the flimsy object from the drawer. It was a hot pink sticky note, its surface alive with glittery ink, smiley faces, and hearts. The corners of his mouth lifted, the tension in his back easing just a hair.

Aspirin isn't in this drawer silly! First one to your right! And don't take more than 2, okay? Between that and your scotch drinking habits your liver is screaming!!!!

He couldn't suppress the laughter that rumbled through him as he pressed the note to his desk. He turned to the drawer on his right, pulling it open to find, much to his satisfaction, the aspirin. Attached to it was yet another sticky note.

You found it!! So proud!! Hope your day is going amazingly! Don't miss me too much! :)

His heart thumped louder in his chest, a wave of heat blossoming across his neck as he carefully folded the sticky notes, tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket.

When you finally came ambling into the office--your ponytail swaying, a pink ribbon securing it in place--he felt an instant lift in his mood. His jaw relaxed, fingers instinctively straightening his tie--a needless act but one that gave him a moment to admire you. You looked beautiful. You always did, but as he fingered the note in his pocket, he could feel his chest constrict just looking at you.

"Hi there, Mr. Boss Man," you sang out, voice as sweet as syrup as you glided towards him with an ease that defied that height of your heels. "The office didn't burn down without me, did it?"

"It came close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you giggled, the bracelets on your arms tinkling like wind chimes as you wrapped them around your notebook. "You look stressed. Are you stressed?"

"I'm fine, just a headache." He paused, his hand absentmindedly reaching again for the sticky note. "How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Squeaky clean bill of health." You beamed at him, shifting your weight to your toes. "Did you see my note?"

"I did. Thank you." A grin was vying for control of his features while his hand found its way to his neck, pressing lightly in a vain effort to steady his racing pulse.

"You're so very welcome," you chimed, sending him a smile that nearly made the air evaporate from his lungs. "Also, I fixed a couple issues in your calendar, and I ordered you a new lamp, I noticed yours was broken. I hope that's okay."

More than okay. You were perfect. If he were a man who believed in luck, he would be inclined to think you might be his good luck charm.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[hearts4hughes]

tied up - rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: master manipulator!rafe ; mentions of violence ; sexual innuendos towards the end

a/n: the second i saw rafe tied up and sweaty in this episode, i KNEW i had to write about it. this is probably the first of many writings relating to this scene.

the ship rocks gently beneath you, creaking in time with the water lapping against its sides. you step carefully, feeling the weight of the metal plate in your hands, warm against your fingertips. the scent of food mixes with the salt air, thick and lingering, though you’re sure he won’t touch it. rafe sits a few feet away, hands bound to a pipe in front of him, his head drooped forward. he doesn’t look up as you approach, but you can feel his awareness.

you pause, just out of reach, and the light catches his profile—a bruise blooming darkly his eye, his lip split and red, dried blood marking his mouth like some careless stain from when jj knocked him out. he lifts his head slowly, almost deliberately, and his gaze finds yours. his eyes are sharp, narrowed, an intense blue like broken glass in sunlight, calculating and unreadable.

the plate feels heavier in your hands, like it’s suddenly full of something fragile. you set it down, the scrape of metal on wood cutting through the silence like a match. he doesn’t move, just watches you with that unblinking look, like he’s trying to measure how much of you he could break if his hands were free. the thought chills you, but you don’t step back.

“eat,” you say, trying to sound calm, detached, but your voice feels too loud in the confined space. his mouth twitches, a hint of something that might be a smile, but it’s too cold, too hollow. you can see the strain in his shoulders, the pure anger in the way he holds himself, but underneath it—something else. a flicker of vulnerability he’s trying hard to hide.

“so, they send you down to try to convince me to eat? think it would soften me up or something?” his voice is rough as it echos through the confined room. “i already told sarah that i’m not eating until they untie me.” he says with pure defiance. his eyes bore into you as if he’s trying to study you.

you turn your head, your gaze diverting to the dusty floor. “actually, no one sent me down here. they could give a shit if you starved or not. it would be doing everyone a favor.” you avoid his eyes, afraid that your confidence would melt if you met them.

for a second, you wonder if he’s about to say something, something meant only for you, and the realization tightens in your chest like a warning.

“then, why are you here?” he asks harshly. you look up to meet his haunted eyes, a chill runs down your spine and butterflies settle in your stomach. “what happened to never wanting to see me again, huh? what happened to ‘i love you forever’ ?”

his words command a flood of memories to rush through your head. your breathing becomes heavier as you remember it all; the lingering gazes, the sweet nothings, and finally, the way the absence in his eyes as he shot sherif peterkin.

“you know what happened, rafe,” you warn, your voice cracking slightly. he smirked, almost as if he could sense your anxiety. “you know why i left you.”

rafe’s smirk deepens, twisted and bitter, and he leans forward as much as the bindings allow him. “left me?” his voice is low, mocking, but there’s something raw in it too. “come on. we both know you didn’t leave me—you never really left me.”

the words cut through you, sharper than you expect, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. he watches you, waiting for a reaction, relishing it, and maybe even needing it. his gaze is relentless, pining you there like you were the one in restraints.

you force yourself to meet his eyes, even as every instinct screams to look away, to leave the room, and to escape. “i did, though. i left you because you weren’t the man i started dating. you were this,” you gesture to his bruises, his dried blood, and his hostility shimmering in his expression; the man who seems like a stranger and yet is all too familiar.

“you’ve always been mine.” he mutters more to himself than to you. “and i’m- i’m trying to change, y/n. i’ve been trying to change.” he says sternly, almost as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. “y-you people don’t understand that i can change. i can change just as easily as you and sarah did when you started hanging around those goddamn pogues!” he raises his voice, jolting forward, and causing you to jump back.

when he notices you flinch, his gaze softens. he take a deep breath and sits back. you swallow harshly as he shifts from 0 to 100 in mere seconds.

“i’m just trying to change for the better; for you.” his voice is soft, not like what it was before. you can hear the sadness and the desperation dripping from his mouth.

it’s a trap. it’s all a trap. you’ve known rafe long enough to sense when he’s being manipulative, and he’s at his peak right now. you don’t respond, shaking your head, and going to grab the plate of food. as you grab the mental dish, his hands clasp around your wrist. the plate drops to the floor with a clatter.

“don’t- don’t go.” he whispers softly. his eyes search your face for even an ounce of reciprocated feelings. you bite the inside of your cheek as you ponder the possibilities. “stay here with me… please.” he isn’t speaking anymore, no, he’s begging.

your guard completely falls, leaving yourself vulnerable, and raw to his manipulations. when he senses the sudden shift, it’s as if he latches onto you, stringing his webs tighter around you.

you relax your shoulders with a sigh, not saying yes, but not leaving. he smiles and his eyes fall to your plump lips. his grip tightens around your wrist, fingers wrapping around your pulse. his breath is shallow and ragged, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.

your pulse quickens, a silent thrum that feels too loud, too obvious. his thumb moves softly, tracing small circles against your skin, a touch that’s barely there but enough to send a rush of warmth up your arm. you could pull away, break the moment before it goes any further, but you stay still.

rafe’s eyes drop to your lips, his jaw clenching as he takes a steadying breath. he’s drawing you closer, erasing the distance you swore to keep. “you don’t have to stay,” he murmurs, but his fingers tighten, betraying his words. “but… I don’t want you to leave.”

he inches closer, his face barely a breath away as his scent fills your senses. you can feel him hesitating, struggling against something, something that holds him back as much as it pulls him forward.

thousands of thoughts, warnings, and memories flash through your mind like blinding headlights, but they quiet under the intensity of his stare. then, he leans forward, closing the final sliver of space between you. his lips press softly against yours, and as if surrendering, you begin to kiss him back. the kiss begins gentle and sweet, but quickly turns into something desperate and fiery.

his tongue teases your mouth, slipping against your bottom lip. he’s frantic, raw, almost as if he’s afraid of losing you again, like he’s trying to make up for everything that happened. your lips slot against his like a puzzle piece.

you pull away breathlessly and stare at him. he lifts his arms that are bound by rope just enough for you to slip under them, now straddling his lap. you settle on his lap, something hard presses against your ass.

he smirks, “feel what you do to me, baby? i’ve missed you so much.”

the way he stares at you then and there tells you that you’ll be his forever. that there is no escape from him, even if you allow yourself to believe so. you’ll eternally be stuck in his web as he dances around you, only adding more silk to restrain you.

“calm down and untie me.” he says with a twisted grin. “let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

[66stitches]

abby anderson request !! :)

i wanted something where abby is starting to doubt her sexuality and trusts reader to ask questions and just talk about it (reader is a lesbian and they're close friends, it can end up with them kissing — or more, if you're comfortable)

cw: sfw, kissing (a lot of it), descriptions of masturbation (abby), talk of sexuality and questioning sexuality, no physical description of reader

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

a/n: thank you for the req !! I don’t write full on smut unfortunately (though I might write some short stuff in the future), but I tried to write a few kinda sexual scenes here and there

wc: idk prob like 1k

divider creds

Abby loved Owen, truly. She was attracted to him: that is what she kept convincing herself of everyday.

Every moment with Owen was a new lie she fed herself.

He was the man she loved. There was nothing she doubted in her relationship with him. The absence of love’s warmth meant to fill her body was her own fault; her inability to reach climax when they had sex was a problem for which only she was to blame.

It doesn’t mean she never tried, though. Abby had spent nights attempting to pleasure herself to the thought of Owen: the only person she should be thinking of; the only person supposed to be capable of reaching her to her climax.

And yet, all she felt was nothing. She laid in her bed, carnal and romantical dissatisfaction utterly consuming her. She was convinced that she was simply incapable of experiencing any sort of attraction exceeding platonicity.

But it only grew more confusing from there.

In another one of her inevitably futile attempts of bringing herself to climax to the thought of Owen, she felt her mind begin to drift to another thought that would hopefully bring her to that much desired release.

She didn’t intend for it to, but the man was just not doing it for her.

That night, she thought of a woman.

That night, she came so hard she swore she could see stars.

A specific woman she thought of in particular, but she would never admit who it was that finally relieved that ache. Not even in the confines of her own thoughts.

And so here she found herself, seated on the soft cushion of your worn-out couch.

You were Abby’s sole friend who was openly lesbian. Abby had seen you bring women over numerous times before. She had listened to your rants about your sexual and romantic encounters with women.

She even helped set you up with one, which harbored a slight odd feeling in the pit of her stomach for a reason she couldn’t quite decipher.

She had thought of it many times: what it was like being with a woman. She didn’t really know what to make of those thoughts. Whether it was mere curiosity, or perhaps something more.

And now here she sat next to you, trying to find the confidence to speak.

She never found it hard to confide in you. Of course not, you were her dearest friend. But this dilemma of hers was difficult to merely utter aloud, even if it is only to herself.

You were on your phone when Abby spoke.

“So�� you’re gay,” she started, and she wanted to strike herself as soon as the words left her mouth, because of course you were gay. What kind of opening is that?

“Good observation?” You chuckled, bemused. You placed your phone down, curious as to where she was going with this.

“What’s it like? You know, being with a woman,” she asked, already regretting bringing it up, but she just needed some certainty.

Your eyebrows twisted in confusion at the inquiry. You and Abby were comfortable enough to share anything with each other. Nothing was considered too much information or too uncomfortable to talk about.

It was just an odd question coming from Abby, who you thought was so sure of her sexuality.

“I guess it’s like how it feels for you being with a man.”

God, she hoped not.

“Why?” You asked.

“Just curious, that’s all. Wanna understand your sexuality more, educate myself,” she spoke rather timidly.

You laughed softly. “Oh, because you’re so woke, right?”

Abby could tell you didn’t believe her. In all fairness, she didn’t really put much effort into trying to sound the least bit credible.

She didn’t even know why she was lying to you right now. She trusted you, she always has. This was just a difficult truth to face.

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little confused, I guess,” she confessed, shrugging.

“About your sexuality?” Your voice was slow, but your heart beat quicker than ever before.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find Abby attractive. You’ve always had a little childish crush on the blonde, but you constantly found yourself trying to shove your feelings aside, somewhere far away so it could no longer reach to gnaw at your heart.

But now this — this made it all different. You might be getting slightly ahead of yourself, but you can’t help but think that now you might have the smallest chance with her.

“I don’t know— I mean, yeah, I guess,” she said as she fiddled with the seams of her shirt. “Owen’s just never really made me feel… well, anything. Anything you’re supposed to feel with a partner, I don’t feel it. I thought maybe the problem was Owen specifically, but I’ve come to realize that it’s not.”

“But women get you going?”

“I think so,” she admitted, finally. “I tried to think about a woman last night, while, you know…” she trailed off, her skin suddenly feeling very hot at the confession.

“And?” You whispered, feeling just as hot at her confession. “Was it just what you were missing?”

Abby went quiet for a moment, then she answered. “Yeah, it was.”

It was silent. Abby still looked like she had something to say, so you offered no response for a moment.

“But how could I know? I’ve never tried anything romantic or sexual with another woman, so how would I be able to tell? I could just be confused,” she said.

You were quiet, contemplating your next words. What you were about to do could either ruin your friendship, or elevate it to something more. You were relying on the latter.

“You wanna try?” You asked. Your voice sounded bold, but everything within you was shaking with apprehension.

She offered naught but an incredulous look. Her eyes were blown wide, disbelieving.

“What?”

Well, shit.

“I mean, solely for experimental purposes, of course. A kiss shared with another woman, just to be certain,” you explained.

The tension was thick, almost palpable. You were nervous at Abby’s silence and you realized that this is where your boldness gets you.

You were ready for her harsh rejection and the revulsion that would surely be evident in her voice, but then she spoke.

“Okay,” she said. Not a hint of revulsion in her tone. You didn’t know it, but her heart beat just as quick as yours.

“Really?” You asked, surprised as if you hadn’t been the one to offer.

“Well, yeah,” she leaned in slightly, bringing her face closer to yours. “Just for experimental purposes, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathed. You brought your face to hers, and in a split second you closed the gap between you, meeting each other in a slow kiss, your eyes fluttering shut.

Her lips were soft. Her kiss felt nervous, lacking confidence, yet it still exceeded every expectation.

You pulled away once you felt it was enough. You looked at her and waited for what she had to say.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely gay,” she said and pushed your face right back into hers, meeting your lips in a much more heated kiss.

This kiss, however, held the confidence the previous one lacked, her lips moving skillfully against yours. You waited for the shock to wear off before kissing her back, clearly not expecting her to want more.

You disconnected your lips once again, pulling her face away from yours. “Abby—”

“Just need-” she interrupted her own words to press another swift peck to your lips. “A little more-” another kiss. “Just to make sure,” she said, finally and pulled you in for another kiss. She cupped your burning cheeks with her palms and slipped her tongue into your mouth.

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss, solely for the sake of experiment (how the thought made you laugh now), turned into her exploring your mouth with her tongue and pushing her body against yours. This kiss held no place for innocence now.

She softly moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

She used her thumb to lightly caress your cheek as she kissed you like her life depended on it. She slightly pulled apart then, nibbling on your bottom lip with her teeth.

As the kiss came to an end, you sat staring at each other, breathless, and oh so blissful.

“You wanna know something?” Abby asked with a dumb smile on her face which brought another smile upon your own. You hummed.

“It was you,” she started, still faintly breathless. “You were who I thought of.”

Your eyebrows rose at the confession. It was unexpected, but certainly not disliked.

What you were more surprised at, though, was how casually she said it, seemingly too blissed out at the moment for any feeling of embarrassment.

“You telling me I was your gay awakening?” You asked, grinning.

“You could say that.” She shrugged and scratched at the back of her neck.

You laughed and scooted closer to her. “Well, I guess I’m honored then,” you said.

“Alright,” she rolled her eyes and laughed. She leaned in then, craving more of your taste.

You giggled into the kiss and pulled away, licking your lips to savor her intoxicating taste.

“I think we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re gay. You still want more?”

She brought her face closer again and caressed your cheeks. She was close enough that you could feel her breath against your lips.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

[vvampirelust]

just thinking about ellie and shane being obsessed with actress!reader

warnings: smut, filmindustryAU, actress!reader x shane x ellie, weird crossover i know, oral (r receiving), not proof read

it all started when you moved to LA for for a part in an upcoming sci-fi role. a huge change, uprooting your life suddenly…but this could be your big break. you were diving in having no previous interaction to anyone on the movie, therefore you had expected to make connections, friends, opportunities. what you weren’t expecting, was to meet them.

first is your hairstylist, who had the socks charmed right off you minutes after sitting in her chair. Shane, she carries herself with such confidence, knowing exactly how hot she is. big on eye contact as she kneels to level with you, explaining what she’s gonna be doing with you each day. she’s just doing her job, you have to tell yourself when she mutters things like “mhm, that’s hot,” as she admires her work. or “you’ll look beautiful if we just…yeah, that’s it,” nimble fingers pinning the front of your hair back. other hand gently pulling messy strands out to fit the scene you were doing, fingertips always lingering a little longer as she skims the skin of your face.

and then there’s Ellie, assistant director, working her way into SFX, getting at much experience as she may need. when you first saw her on set you were convinced the two of you would not get along. after witnessing her grumpy attitude, scowling and sighing, snapping into the mic of her headset. yet when ellie is sent to tell you, you were needed back on set, she was wide eyed and blushing. you found her adorable, the way she stumbled over her words, attempting weakly to rephrase herself, “i mean, shit. would you mind coming back to set with me? big man’s asking for ya’ but you know, if you’re busy it’s cool. i’ll uhm-yeah i mean i can talk to him?” she’s awkward and unsure of herself but returns your grin with a shy smile of her own. since then, she loves fetching you for your scenes, always ensuring she’s not busy, jumping at the opportunity to spend even just 5 minutes a day getting to know you.

the two girls soon became aware of their mutual interest, neither exactly hiding their attraction. ellie would huff every morning she came to pick you up from hair and makeup. not so silently grumbling when shane would lean down to whisper some inside joke you shared. hating the way you would laugh, flashing that pretty smile of yours. the hairstylist would flick her gaze to ellie in the mirror, smirking as always. now ellie would never admit it, but she too was made flustered by shane’s charm.

~

one night, the three of you were together in the hotel room you were staying in. a little drunk, celebrating being halfway through filming. other friends you had made along the way had been and gone, empty glasses and beer bottles left in their absence.

thighs touching as you now sat comfortably between shane and ellie, staring intently out of the floor to ceiling windows. city lights shining in the night, tiny little dots from how high up you were. how the hell did you get here? shane cut the silence, and the bullshit, pulling you out of your thoughts with one question. “if you had to choose one of us, me or ellie?” what shane doesn’t know is you’ve been trying to figure that out since your first week on set. so you shrug, “i really don’t know.” neither of them enjoy that answer. “i like the both of you,” you say with a sigh, but it is the truth.

turning to shane first, your lips meet in a slow, tentative kiss, breaking the barrier. her hand slides around your waist, you gasp, and shane kisses you harder. heating by the second, tongue sweeping in to taste. shane’s showing off, pulling you into her lap, knowing ellie is sat frozen on the other side of you, feeling a mix of jealousy and guilt for watching but she’s never been more turned on. your hand finds shane’s throat, softly pushing her head back against the sofa. she’s smug, eyes daring as she looks up to watch what’s next. you’re beckoning ellie to come closer, practically gulping as she does. your free hand cups the back of her neck, pulling her in, lips shyly slotting against yours. ellie gains confidence in her kisses, eagerness in each swirl of her tongue. her plump, bitten lips feel so soft against your own, each satisfied hum from ellie vibrates over your mouth. it takes all your strength to break the kiss, especially as ellie stays there, panting through parted lips, cheeks flushed, eyes blinking open in confusion. she follows your gaze, your eyes innocently cheekily flicking between the two. shane straightens her posture, the three of you closer than ever. each can feel the others breath, each knowing there’s no going back now. shane leans in, capturing ellie’s mouth, who’s moaning instantly. tongues clash, eager for more.

shane breaks away to kiss along your cheek to the corner of your mouth, her hand joining yours behind ellie’s neck, urging her to follow. ellie’s tongue swipes your lips, and shane’s. your own seeks to taste them both, the three of you releasing whimpered sounds as your tongues messily dance with each other, pushing past your lips to try and get more of you.

which is why they now have you laid back on the couch, shane and ellie kneeling on the floor between your legs. stripped bare, pushed back and spread wide. ellie’s freckle splattered cheek is smushed against shane’s, sticky and wet from the mess made between your thighs. their mouths are latched onto your swollen cunt, simultaneously eating you out as if you were the last food source on earth. tongues clash, sliding up and down your pussy, curling around the other as they dip into your folds. the slurping sounds are inescapable, making you whimper and squirm, cunt pounding harder. they trap your clit between their tongue, massaging with enough pressure to make you mewl. “oh my god,” your hands land on each other their heads, trying to push them down, to ease up the overstimulation making your stomach tense up so much, it hurt. “fuck, it’s so good,” you’re moaning, hips bucking, “feels so good.” shane slides her tongue to your sloppy hole, slipping inside, she fucks you with her tongue while ellie keeps your clit trapped between her pursed lips.

your first orgasm of the night felt different than any other you had experienced before, so intense, so filthy and intimate. you couldn’t warn them, unable to find the strength to sleep as the euphoria paralysed your mind. ellie swears she can feel your heartbeat through your clit, trembling thighs giving away your release. in the back of your head, you can hear shane moaning, or maybe it’s the vibrations against your cunt you can feel. shane can feel your soft walls clamping around her tongue and she suddenly needs her fingers inside of you. “tight fucking pussy, babe,” shane grunts, two fingers thrusting into you with ease, earning a loud moan from you, back arching as she reaches so deep inside you, “fuck, you’re so pretty,” she near whimpers, a third finger squishing inside your clenching hole.

“shane, ellie, i- fuck,” you trail off into a pathetic sob, another climax approaching so soon. ellie hasn’t let up on your poor clit, her sensational tongue playing with the sensitive little bud as if it were her favourite toy. paired with shane’s long fingers knuckle deep, rutting into your pussy at such a fast pace you’re seeing stars in the back of your head, curling up just right, battering your g-spot with each thrust. it’s too much all at once. but you like that, you squirm in pleasure at the torture you endure. the heat in your belly getting hotter and hotter, tightening, threatening to explode. shane rests against the inside of your thigh, a tired smile on her wet lips, admiring the state you were in. whimpering, shaking, on the verge of cumming. “let us have it baby, come on,” shane moans softly, feeling you tightening around her fingers, “cum for us, please baby.” she begs as if you could resist how good they make you feel.

and this is just the beginning.

if it isn’t obvious, i watched challengers the other day

[dixons-sunshine]

Needs To Be Perfect | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Thank you @lazyneonrabbitt for the idea!

“M’tellin’ ya, Dog, it has to be perfect. I can’t screw it up. She ain’t gon’say yes if it ain’t a hundred percent perfect.”

You stopped your descend down the stairs, hiding your body behind the wall as you heard your partner’s voice fill the air. You had temporarily left just to go grab something from your room, and it appeared to you that Daryl had decided to have a heart-to-heart with his furry companion in your absence. And apparently, the aforementioned heart-to-heart included something he was planning for you. Saying that your interest was peaked would be an understatement.

You could hear Dog let out a small bark, as if trying to communicate with his owner. “Yeah, s’what m’thinkin’. She’s perfect, so she deserves the damn best proposal ever. Ain’t gon’ give her no damn sloppy one.”

You could feel your heart stop, yet speed up at the same time. Proposal? Daryl was planning on proposing? How long had he been wanting to do that? And why did he ever believe you’d say no? He could propose to you with one of his bike’s wheel nuts in a sewer and you’d say yes with zero hesitation. That’s how much you loved your partner.

“M’thinkin’a takin’ her out on my bike to that lake we found way back when. S’one’a her favourite spots. Maybe I can set up a picnic or somethin’.” Daryl stopped and let out a deep sigh. “Nah, that’s too cliche. She ain't any ordinary person. She deserves better than that. Bein’ proposed to while on a picnic... S’been done way too many times already.”

You smiled to yourself as your grip on the book—the thing you had left to go grab from your room—tightened. Your heart was attempting to pound out of your ribcage. So you hadn’t misheard him. Your partner and love of your whole life was planning on making it official. He was planning on putting a ring on your finger. He wanted you to be his wife. You felt like crying from happiness, but you knew that if you did, Daryl would be alerted to your knowledge of his plans. No, you wouldn’t spoil this for him by letting him know that you knew.

“What ‘bout takin’ her huntin’ and proposin’ to her like that?” As if disliking the idea, Dog let out a growl. “Well, what do ya suggest I do, then?!” Daryl exclaimed in frustration, before stopping and letting out another sigh. “What have I come to? Talkin’ to a dog ‘bout things it ain’t never gon’ be able to help me with. M’slippin’ badly,” Daryl mumbled to himself. “I jus’... M’terrified, Dog. I dun’ wanna screw it up. I dun’ know what I’ll do if she says no.”

Your heart broke at the sound of the evident fear in the archer’s voice. You knew that this fear stemmed from years of mistreatment. Daryl didn’t believe that he deserved you, and he was scared of the day you’d walk out on him—a day that would never come. So, you vowed to yourself you’d ensure that he wouldn’t doubt himself. You’d subtly ensure him that whatever he decided to do as his proposal, you’d say yes regardless. He deserved to have that clarity.

You stomped your foot on the stair once, loud enough so that Daryl could hear and think that you were just bounding down the stairs. You walked down the remaining few steps and walked into the living room, book in hand. Daryl looked up at you with raised eyebrows and widened eyes, clearly being afraid of being caught planning something big. You knew, of course, but you wouldn’t tell him about your knowledge of his plans.

“Sorry it took forever to come back,” you apologized, raising the book for him to see. “This took me a while to find. Did I miss anything?”

Daryl let out a small sigh of relief, and you had to refrain from chuckling. “Nah, nothin’ important. Jus’ havin’ a lil’ chat with Dog,” he told you, falling back on the couch and patting his bare chest as a way to tell you he expected more cuddles—cuddles that had been interrupted earlier due to your need to find the book.

You smiled and climbed onto the couch, settling snuggly against him and opening the book. “He say anything interesting?”

Daryl snorted as his eyes drifted to the animal that rested on the floor near the couch. “Nah.” He wrapped his arms around you and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head. “Ya gon’ read to me now or not?”

“In a minute.” You looked at Daryl and gave him a small smile. You admired his features, from the dip of his nose to the curve of his lips, his beautiful ocean coloured eyes, everything. Everything about this man was beautiful to you. “You’re stunning, Daryl.” Daryl scoffed and shook his head, but you cut him off before he could say anything. “It’s true. Don’t even try to fight me on this. You’re stunning. You’re kind, you’re smart, you’re brave, and you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met. I’m so lucky I get to tell everyone that you’re the love of my life. I’m so lucky that I get to spend my life with you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Daryl hesitated for a moment, before sending you a small smile. “Yeah? Ya dun’ mind spendin’ yer life with me?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.” You leaned down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips before pulling back. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

“And I love ya. So fuckin’ much.”

And with that, some of Daryl’s worries got soothed. He was still freaking out over what he would do for a proposal, but he felt a little better knowing that you didn’t intend on leaving him anytime soon. You were the light of Daryl's existence.

And he planned on keeping you in his life for the rest of his days.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning. 

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction. 

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office. 

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you. 

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

[mockerycrow]

Lately I've been dying with stress induced migraines and was wondering if I could request the 141 or any character of your choosing to take care of the reader suffering from them??

MIGRAINES (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist

[WARNINGS; medicine/drugs, inaccuracy of medicine stuff, inaccuracy of military, fluff, physical hurt/comfort, mention of overdosing, it’s implied you do not have regular sleeping problems.]

You know a migraine is about to come on when you’re looking down at the paper in front of you—something about a past mission—and you can’t see the lower right corner of the paper. You blink harshly and rub your eyes, the blotch not leaving which leads you to believe it’s a migraine aura. A heavy feeling forms in the bottom of your stomach, a weird sensation blooming in the nape of your neck. You put the paper down for a moment and rub your eyes—it’s only Tuesday and this will be your second migraine. 

You feel frustration ebb at your nerves as tears threaten to spill, causing you to let out a shuddery breath. You stand up from the office chair you’re sitting in, near your desk in your barracks. You decided that you should warn the Captain about your aura and that you would need some rest for the incoming day and maybe even tomorrow.

You can already feel the light sensitivity setting in. It doesn’t hurt just yet as you open your door and you’re forced to be under fluorescent lights, but you can tell your tolerance is lower than usual. You offer quiet greetings to those who you pass in the hall, making your way across base to the offices. You squint a bit more, the muscles surrounding your eyes tensing. You can’t help but wonder why they use such shitty lighting in an office space.

You stop in front of a door with a name plate labeled “CPT. JOHN PRICE”, and you knock on the door a couple of times. You hear his gruff voice, saying something along the lines of come in. You open the door and close it behind yourself, looking at Price who is looking up from his paperwork; probably surrounding the last mission like yours is, too. “I feel another migraine coming on, Captain. I came to ask for the day off.” 

Price’s eyes narrow for just a moment in concern. He knows your history with migraines, and how they’re usually induced by stress. “Alright, but you make sure to go see medical if it persists, yeah?” Price says with a lifting tone, but it’s not a question, it’s an order. You go to open your mouth, but Price beats you to it. “I know they can’t do much for you, but those painkiller cocktails are very much worth it.”

You close your eyes as a wave of nausea passes over you, causing you to freeze for a moment. The man in front of you utters your name which prompts your eyes to open back up. His eyes are scanning your face. eyebrows lifting ever so slightly to prompt an answer. You press your lips together and give him a nod; those cocktails are lifesavers, but they don’t last as long as you need them to. You’re thankful for his suggestion anyway. Price gives you a firm nod. “Hope to see you tomorrow feeling better, sergeant.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You reply before leaving his office, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off that beginning twinge of pain beginning in the base of your skull.

Something was off—Ghost could feel it in his bones. When you don’t show up for morning PT, he knows something is off, especially when for the second time in a few days, Price hands him a signed off medical emergency paper from you. It contained no details, nothing other than “1 day medical absence” signed by Price himself. It left Ghost feeling uneasy; you are not the type to do this type of thing, even when you had the seasonal flu, it was like the entire 141 had to lecture you to slow down, or maybe even rest a bit.

Ghost half expects you to show up anyway, but just like a few days ago, you are nowhere to be found. Ghost finds some free time a bit after 1500, so he makes his way towards medical. Perhaps you were physically injured? He steps into the infirmary and is met with a few pairs of eyes, a couple of them shocked to see him. “Lieutenant! How can we help you?” A medic at a cart parked against the wall asks, quickly packing up something he was doing. Ghost utters your name, glancing around. “Are they here?” He grunts.

“No, sir,” The medic replies. “They did stop by for some treatment, though.” Ghost’s eyebrows furrow for a moment; treatment? Treatment for what? Ghost doesn’t bother to ask, knowing the medics wouldn’t likely tell him anyway, so he murmurs a shirt thank you before leaving the infirmary. He racked his brain—what possibly could keep you out of commission willingly when not even a GSW would? Ghost then decides right then that he will head for your barracks.

He makes his way across base, going from the infirmary unit all the way across to the on-base barracks. Gears are turning in his head as he tries to not jump to conclusions—is there a physical injury he’s not being told about?—and Ghost is failing. You’re one of the couple of folks who don’t have a roommate, so he knocks with a purpose as there isn’t anyone else to worry about bothering. He waits for a few moments and is greeted with silence, so he knocks again with a loud and deep, “Sergeant?”

Ghost is met with silence again, which doesn’t soothe his nerves. He tries the doorknob and to his surprise—and concern—it works. Ghost slowly opens the door to find your room in complete darkness, the only light being the one from the hall which is illuminating your bed. He sees you hunched over in your bed, wrapped in your blankets with your face half buried into your pillow. Near your bed is a TV tray stand with two plastic bowls with separate washcloths hanging off of the side of the bowls. There’s an orange medicine bottle and a small white medicine bottle next to a half empty water bottle and another full unopened bottle.

Ghost closes the door behind himself as he walks over to you, narrowly avoiding the TV tray stand. He peels back the velcro of one of his gloves before removing it, pressing the back of his hand to the part of your forehead that is exposed. Your temperature feels fine at first so he turns his hand over and presses his wrist to the small part of your forehead and he receives the same result. Ghost blinks for a moment, noting that you have no fever. Immense relief floods over him; he’s not exactly sure why.

He calls your name and puts a hand on your arm, shaking you ever so slightly. You don’t move a muscle, but you’re breathing just fine. Ghost looks over at the bottles of medicine and leans over, grabbing both of them. He reads “Zaleplon” and “Rizatriptan”. With a quick google search on his phone, he finds out they are both prescribed medications, which makes his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You have prescribed medications? For sleeping and migraines? You’ve never mentioned this before.

Ghost puts them back down on the TV tray stand and he shakes your shoulder a bit more forcefully as it seems you’re really asleep. He feels bad, knowing he should just let you rest, but he doesn’t know if you’ve eaten. He has no idea if you have only drunk that one bottle of water all day, if you have left to go to the bathroom—nothing. He calls your name louder which still does not harbor a response from you, making his gut tighten once again.

He knows it’s the anxiety talking, that you would be careful with medicine, careful enough to not take too much—but he can’t help but still worry. Ghost doesn’t know that maybe you forgot you took a sleeping pill before popping another, putting you in a deeper sleep. Your breathing seems fine, so you’re definitely not struggling in that department. Maybe you’re just sleeping heavier than usual?

But what if you did take more than needed? What if this is you in the middle of an overdose? You are indeed turned over, your face halfway smushed into the pillow. That’s enough to strike anxiety into Ghost’s soul so he grabs your shoulder and forcefully rolls you onto your back, a heavy relieved sigh leaving him when he doesn’t see any vomit or excess saliva on your pillow or hoodie. Your skin is its usual color, as well as your lips. Ghost’s fingers grab your wrist to feel your pulse, counting the beats. Your heart rate is fine.

So why are you not waking up? And why is he so anxious about it?

Ghost calls your name even louder and his shoulders relax when he hears a quiet groan leave your lips. Your closed eyelids squeeze together for a moment before an expression of pain floods your face, causing Ghost to press his lips together underneath his balaclava. “There ya are,” Ghost murmurs, putting a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flutter open and they land on Ghost after a moment. “Ghost,” You breathe out, pain lacing your tone.

The room is dark so you’re both struggling to see each other, but Ghost doesn’t mind. If it helps your head, he will gladly squint. “Have ya eaten?” He grunts out, his voice rumbling and low in his chest. You let out a tired breath and rub your eyes, taking a moment to answer. “What time is it?” You croak, your hands moving from your eyes to your temples. Ghost pulls out his phone, it being too dark to look at his watch. “1321.” He replies, making you inhale sharply and let out a groan. “Shit, didn’t mean to sleep that long.” You slur ever so slightly.

“Did’ja miss a dose?” Ghost questions, and you let out a quiet “mhm”. You hear Ghost reach over to the TV tray stand, but you can’t tell what he’s doing. You hear one of the medicine bottles pop open. His hand finds yours and gives you a pill, and then you hear the water bottle crinkle. “Up.” He orders, and you comply, sitting up just enough to take the medicine. You wince at the change in angle so easily irritates your pounding skull, but you appreciate the soothing water running down your throat. Ghost caps the water bottle and puts it back. You hear water sloshing around and one of the washcloths being wrung out, and you flinch ever so slightly when you feel a cold washcloth being tucked underneath your head and against the nape of your neck.

“When did you start ‘aving migraines?” Ghost asks. His tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s clear he’s confused on why he was never let known. He’s also your superior next to Price, looked over the necessary files. You let your eyes shut, focusing on the cold feeling seeping underneath your skin. You appreciate the man keeping his voice down. “Always had ‘em, but they’re stress induced. They aren't constant.” You reply, your voice also remaining low, barely disturbing the silence of your room. “Had one a day or two ago, guess that shit never left.” You joke, earning a huff from Ghost. “Y’didn’t answer my question. When’s the last time you have eaten?” Ghost inquires, making you let out a sigh. “Mm, maybe 4 or 5 hours ago,” You hum. “I should go grab something soon, helps the medicine kick in faster.”

Ghost shakes his head even though you can barely tell. “No need, I’ll grab it. Are you experiencing nausea?” Ghost stands up from the bed, the mattress leveling out. “A bit, yeah. Could you grab something light on the stomach?” You request, your fingers grabbing your blanket as a warm fuzzy feeling in your gut begins to distract you from the pounding in your temples. “‘Course.” And with that, Ghost leaves you with your thoughts for the time being. You don’t understand why he’s being so nice and generous—it’s not like Ghost is not nice, but he’s usually more teasing and serious about getting shit done. 

To be fair, the last time you got injured, he also took care of you. You had earned a nasty brush with death after being too close to a large explosion. You had been thrown back into a wall, crashing through the other side, earning you a broken shoulder and a piece of wood through the major artery in your thigh—as well as the classic severe concussion, of course. This happened about a year ago and when your shoulder aches, Ghost somehow knows and offers to rub cream into it. It’s similar to Soap’s knee pain, so he knows what to do. Countless nights over a year of rubbing cream into the part of your shoulder that you can’t reach, the words left unspoken between you two? 

Ghost returns with a light meal for you as well as a cup of ice water, knowing it’ll help you more than your room temperature water bottles. Something about Ghost being so domestic over this past year up to now, taking care of you and bringing you food, rubbing cream into your shoulder when needed, when he took you to those temporary physical therapy appointments for your shoulder? Something snapped inside of you and you could never look at him in the same friendly way and by the way he looks and speaks to you, it seems to be the same for him.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Finger Prints[*]

Eris x reader

a/n: been working on this for a while but finished it while I’m ill so there might be some mistakes here and there—sorry!

warnings: pleasure dom Eris; fingering; oral (both receiving); very slight overstim, smut

word count: 2,453

Thumb Prints

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“Eris, wait…” 

You squirm as his long fingers splay across your belly, dipping below the waistband of your silky trousers while the other hand skims beneath your breasts. “Whenever, wherever,” he reminds, nipping at a spot just below your jaw, “isn’t that what you told me?” 

“Yes but- ah- not now…” 

“What’s wrong with now, fawn?” 

“We’re supposed to- be going to bed…” His lips curve into a vulpine smile against your throat. “Isn’t that the perfect time?” 

A humiliating whimper slips from your mouth, knuckles pressing lightly to your lips as his fingers dance lower over your abdomen. Your thighs squeeze together when he dips beneath the band of your underwear, locating your clit. Eris hums and you can perfectly picture the smug look on his face, “you’re already wet.” 

“You were teasing me all throughout supper,” you defend, hands searching for a place to land. Eris presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat, “Not this much though.” 

“Liar,” you grumble, digits skating over his forearms. “Your fingers were practically inside me.” 

Eris spins you around so you’re chest to chest, your neck craning back to look at him. “Don’t give me ideas.” 

Teeth subtly prod at the interior of your lower lip, feeling the cool absence of him between your legs and the arousal he so cruelly left behind. The arousal that’s strengthening after that last comment. 

“What if I want to give you ideas?”

Eris’ lips curve with suggestive interest, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he gives you a look that’s telling you to carry on. You flush, shying away. The embarrassed heat creeps high when he laughs—rich and sonorous and dragging its fingertips teasingly up the length of your spine. “So bashful, all of a sudden?” His digits slide beneath your chin, inclining your jaw so you’re peering into simmering amber eyes, “Why don’t you indulge me, fawn. Tell me about your ideas.” 

You’re half dazed as he guides you over to the bedside, settling down and clambering after him as his palms direct your hips to settle atop one of his thighs. Heated fingers again slide beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and underwear—underwear you’d put on so you wouldn’t ruin your pyjama bottoms—but thoughts slide out of your head when two long, deft digits push at your entrance. It’s embarrassingly easy for his fingers to glide up and down your centre, slicking themselves up so he can slide in with near no resistance. And yet he pauses before he’s even in to his first knuckle. “Would you have liked me to do this with you before my court?” 

Wild heat bursts across your cheeks as you freeze, staring at him. 

Eris smirks, and slides his fingers in a little further, beckoning you forward. “Should I have gotten you up on the banquet table and splayed you apart like—”

“Eris!” Your palms overlap over his mouth, sealing his lips closed to prevent him from finishing that sentence. Your throat rolls, arms trembling as he slides his fingers in so his second set of knuckles are just inside your heat. His tongue flicks out to lick the inside of your palm and you pull your hands back to your chest. 

He looks at you, “Would you have liked that?” 

His fingers are frustratingly still inside of you but your skin feels like he’s touching all over it. Caressing your thighs, cupping your breasts, trailing down your spine. It’s impossible. 

“Fawn?” He’s smirking, gloating that you’re already so far gone. You mindlessly circle your hips, seeking his kind of stimulation. How good it might feel to have his hot tongue licking between your legs, swiping over your clit. You release another humiliating sound—something between a moan and a whimper—and he curls his fingers. “Should I have taken you up on that table?” 

Right, the banquet table.

You shake your head, palms moving to settle on the sturdy muscles of his stomach, heat radiating up into your fingers through the thin veil of silk. “No,” you breathe in answer, lips grazing his own. You want to keep him all to yourself. You hate the idea of anyone else getting even a glimpse of how he is with you. Caring, kind, attentive. It’s all for you. You’re mine.

Eris’ smile turns pleasured, full of male satisfaction and you realise you spoke aloud. The edges of your own lips tug upwards in reply—you don’t feel ashamed to have told him. 

“And you’re mine.” His fingers curl and you find yourself melting across his lap. Pleasure bubbles and simmers in the pit of your belly, your back arching as you roll your hips, relishing in the sweet press of his digits. 

Your spine sinks into the mattress and you realise he’s rolled you over, fingers still tucked deep inside of your heat. “Eris…?” You mumble, then whimper when he retracts his hand, slick gleaming on his digits. It’s swiftly remedied when you realise he’s removing your pyjamas and underwear, and you moan a breathy sigh of contentment as he slides back in. 

“Lay back, fawn.” A hot palm pushes your thighs further apart, letting him settle on the bed. “I don’t want you moving a muscle.” 

His tongue flattens over your clit and the heat that ripples up through your body is pure heaven. 

Your thighs tense, hips shifting as he licks up your centre, pushing his fingers in up to their knuckles and you squeeze him tight. The idea of being anything other that soft and sweet and hot is distant and unfamiliar—you’re liquid candle wax, pooling and swirling around his flame, content to bathe in his warm fire. 

Eris’ lips wrap around your clit, applying a suction as his tongue flickers over its tip, drawing light circles into you while keeping your thighs open. His fingers slide in and out, soft and wet squishing noises sounding with each motion and it’s so peaceful. His touch on your body; his flame against your skin; his mouth latching over you. 

An amused laugh rumbles in his chest as you moan his name, your fingers curving into the sheets as you allow your legs to open wider, to lean into the tingling pleasure that’s calling you closer. His thumb strokes back and forth against the underside of your thigh and you want to give him your orgasm—want him to feel it as you flutter around his fingers and incline your hips to push your clit nearer his lips and teeth and tongue. 

Your lips part as heaven blossoms upward and outward from your thighs, a thrumming pleasure that numbs your skin into ecstasy. You’re frothing butter melting over him, liquid candle wax splashing against the beckoning curve of his fingers, heated syrup and honey as it simmers and warms over an open flame. 

Eris groans as you reach your high, pushing his tongue over your clit, digits rubbing up into that part that makes your thighs tremble. He needs you to feel the pleasure, the physical manifestation of adoration that is barely contained beneath his skin at any given moment. Needs you to make senseless noises and warm with heat, fluttering and moaning beneath his touch, squirming lightly as the pleasure begins to sink into you, filling up until you can’t take anymore and he’s reached your limit. 

He doesn’t want to leave you yet. If he had his way he’d make your body sustain the peak of pleasure so it’s a constant shimmer in your blood, a constant weakness in your muscles, a delicate sweat making your skin dewy with the high. 

You squirm when it becomes too much, trying to wriggle away from his skilled mouth and long fingers but he keeps up for a little longer, swirling his tongue and curling his digits. 

Trembling fingers find purchase in his hair, managing to shakily guide him away from your dripping, sticky cunt, a thread of arousal connecting his mouth to your heat. 

Amber eyes hold you down as he returns once to drag the flat of his tongue up through your centre once more, taking his time as he licks a stripe through you before finally allowing you reprieve. His mouth is soft and wet atop your own, arousal making your lips slippery and his hand cups your throat, thumb swiping against the hinge of your jaw. He’s pressing between your legs, the hard length of his cock grinding against you as you rock into one another, holding carefully. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, squeezing at his waist. “…Go in…” But Eris presses his lips against your own again, tongue swiping across your lower lip before flicking against the roof of your mouth, sliding along the backing of your teeth. When he pulls away his cheeks have fresh colour in them, dark pupils expanding with the proximity. “I want you to ride me,” he murmurs atop your mouth. 

Heat fluttering and bubbles in your abdomen, then you’re nodding your head in a daze, smoothly moving with him as he rolls onto his back taking you with him. Your fingers touch and trail over his stomach, smiling happily to yourself as the middle digit on your right hand circles a small, flat mole inset into his waist. 

He’s so pretty. 

So beautiful without his clothes on. 

“Fawn…” Your eyes find his as he calls you by the sweet nickname, having dazed off while taking him in. You suck your lower lip into your mouth as you glide over him, already having rid himself of the clothing that would have been in the way. You lift from his hips, hand wrapping around him and offering him a few teasing strokes that have his breathing pattern changing. Shortening. Forcefully deepening. 

Your eyes find amber. “Can I take you in my mouth for a bit?” 

Eris’ eyes almost roll back but he gives you a nod. For some reason he believes himself less worthy of direct pleasure than you. You try not to push him, but he’s so irresistible. 

You lick your lips then shift down his body, fingertips ghosting over his abdomen as you descend, letting your lips skim across the muscles of his stomach, pressing kisses down along his happy trail. You lick once at the skin of his abdomen then seal your lips over the area, teeth scraping as you pull reddish colour to his surface, placing marks around his hips and waist—as many as he’ll allow before you slink between his legs. 

Precum is nestled in his tip, a bead having already overspilled and drizzled down his underside that you eagerly lick up, swirling your tongue over his head. Wrapping your hand around his base you take him into your mouth, moaning at the weight of him on your tongue, how he pushes your jaws apart as you take him into your throat. 

Eris’ breathing is shallow, chest rising and falling lightly as you apply your mouth to him. His hand soon finds purchase in your hair, stroking to deliver comfort rather than instructions and you can’t help the sweet flutter of your heart. How you lean into his touch, emulating the assurance he’d afforded you by stroking your free hand over the marked skin of his abdomen and waist. But before long he’s gently tugging on your hair, asking you to pull away so you can join together. 

“You didn’t come…” you mumble, lifting your mouth from his cock but not quite following up his body. His palms cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks lightly. “I want to be inside of you,” he answers, an edge of roughness in his voice, “I need to feel you.” 

It’s enough to have you mindlessly chasing his touch, crawling up his powerful body to straddle his hips, the touch of his cock wetting your inner thigh where your saliva dampens skin. With one hand, you guide him to your entrance, lining yourself up before sliding down far enough his head is inside of you but no further. 

Eris raises a brow but but your palms splay across his stomach. “I want you to do it…” you whisper, “…push me down.” 

His throat rolls, but the rough inside of his palms settle over your hips and your lips part as breath is pushed from your lungs, heart jumping in your chest as he pulls you down into his lap, down onto his cock until the backs of your thighs are flush with the very tops of his. 

Once you’re there and caught up you tangle your fingers with his, digits interleaving as you clutch onto him. Slowly, steadily, you rise from his hips only to slide back down, completing light circles as you tilt your body weigh to swirl over him. Eris’ head sinks into the cushioning of the pillow, the molten burn of his usually neat hair made messy and curled from sweat and the raking of fingers through it. 

“Keep moving,” he urges, hands helping with your movements but not commanding, the two of you working in tandem to deliver pleasure on both ends, “Don’t stop.” 

“I’m not going to.” You assure, eyes sliding shut as your clit rubs over the bone of his abdomen, sensitivity tingling between your thighs, a coil tightening far too quickly. You want to ride out your pleasure, to let it slowly gather between you—not to suddenly spring free but it doesn’t look like you’re getting a choice. 

He just feels so good. 

The orgasm rises before you even have a chance to push against it, releasing throughout your body with swift, crushing pleasure that has your hips fervently bucking back and forth, dragging over him to have his cock pushing and rubbing against that spot that’s the cause of all this pleasure. Eris groans roughly when you clamp down on him, cock twitching before releasing deep inside of you, your name repeating on his tongue like a prayer. 

Panting breaths echo throughout your bedchambers, heat exchanging between sweat-slicked bodies as palms grasp and grope, touching and trailing over skin as the aftershocks begin to die away. 

Eris’ hand finds your nape and you’re being pulled downward, a muffled kiss me flurrying from his mouth before your lips are together and his tongue is pushing against your own. You moan, keeping still on top of him, not yet ready to disconnect. 

He’s so warm. So warm and so tender, when it’s just the two of you. Sweet kisses and hot touches, flame licking up your spine and softening muscle. 

If only it could be like this permanently, without the stress of court life and ruling.

Maybe one day.

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

[moonydustx]

Could you write a short fic on the reader spoiling law. Like they just wake up next to him and decide that it’s Law day 💗💗 pleaseee and thank you😭🫶

Hi hi dear anonymous! It took me a while to respond, I know, but time has been flying here. I loved your idea, I don't think Law would know how to deal with being pampered, but he would love the feeling. Like “do I really deserve this?” Maybe it ended up being longer than expected. Well, I tried my best, I really hope you like it!

Feeling loved

Trafalgar Law X F!Reader Warnings: Just a cute, adorable couple, Law being spoiled all day. F!Reader is the cook of the bunch. Summary: The tranquility on Law's face as he slept was your favorite sight. You wished, at least one day in this pirate life that you led, that he could have that expression on his face all day.

requests | one piece masterlist

Locks of dark hair tickled your skin, while the perfume that naturally emanated from Law invaded your sense of smell. You didn't know how you managed to sleep like that, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you pressed against his body, your face buried in the back of his head. For anyone looking from the outside, it would be difficult to know where one began and the other ended, but it was your favorite place in the whole world.

You stood up a little, gently trying to untangle yourself from your boyfriend. Despite his grumbling and Law trying to pull you back to bed a few times, you managed to sit down delicately. He was still sleeping - and even a light snore came from his lips. Even with his mouth half-open and his arms in disarray, Law seemed serene, immersed in a tranquility that was not common in the days of Polar Tang, much less for the submarine captain.

He deserved a whole life with this tranquility, but you knew that the life they led prevented that. At least today you would try your best to do that for him.

Taking slow steps knowing that any louder noise would wake him up, you walked out towards the kitchen. It was still early for the others to be up and even so, you knew it wouldn't take long to gain the company of the person you most wanted to spoil that day. By hurrying and avoiding dropping pans in the process, you started to design the first step towards the perfect day. Setting aside a large tray, it didn't take long for it to be filled with small portions of Law's favorite foods: onigiri, omelettes, coffee, and even some sweet jelly. Already moving forward with the lunch menu, you left his favorite fish ready to be grilled later.

Trying to balance the tray in your hands and fearing that you would be late, you used as much speed as you could until you reached the room, taking advantage of the fact that you bumped into Ikkaku to inform her of the short absence that you and the captain would have in the morning. When you open the bedroom door, you find Law already standing, looking for a t-shirt to wear.

"Good morning Captain." you practically hummed, closing the door behind you.

"Good morning my love." He passed the collar of his t-shirt over his face, finally being able to see you. "Wow, what's all this?"

"Just a treat." you walked closer and your hand gently guided him back to bed. "Although someone decided to wake up before I arrived."

"You don't have to worry about that, I can continue here." he adjusted himself on the pillows, a mischievous smile appeared on his lips. "As long as you stay too."

"You're in charge, captain."

Adjusting yourself on the bed, you sat next to him and let the tray remain divided between your legs and his. Your lips quickly found his cheeks and when he turned to return the gesture, you took a piece of the rice ball to him, which he readily accepted with a hum.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"I believe my captain deserves special treatment every now and then." You shrugged and he returned the gesture by putting a piece of food in your mouth. "Hey, this food is for you!"

"And that's exactly why we're going to split."

Part of the morning passed like this, the two of you entangled again, this time lost between stolen kisses and pieces of the banquet given to each other, as if completing each gesture. Placing the tray aside, Law snuggled you against his body, wasting a good few minutes there, stealing the taste of your lip, letting his hands spread across your skin. There was no malice in the contact, it was just as if your skin were a magnet that was difficult to resist. It didn't take long for you to end up the same way you had woken up, but this time it was Law who was stuck in the back of your neck.

"Babe…" he called, the  low and almost hoarse voice sent goose bumps across your skin. "We need to get out of bed."

"Not today."

"Not today?" he repeated, in a provocative tone. "It's an irresistible proposition."

"Then don't resist." you gently pulled his face away, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "I promise it will be worth it."

"I know it will, but unfortunately I have some things to sort out."

"What do you think about a shower first?" you proposed and saw his face light up. You knew your boyfriend well and knew what he was about to suggest. "No, not that kind of shower. Let's go."

You pulled him out of bed and even though he mumbled that he would rather turn the shower into something else, you asked him to leave that idea for later. Preferably when the entire sub was quieter and couldn't disturb them. Law entered the bathtub first and you had to contain the light laugh that insisted on leaving your lips when you caught his eyes following your movements. Law didn't hide when he saw your clothes hit the ground, not even when you approached him. He adjusted himself in the tub, ready to make room for you to fit in front of him and was surprised to see you swing your legs behind him and sit behind his body.

"What are you doing?" he turned his face over his shoulder, smiling when he felt your lips kiss his back.

"Just let me take care of you." your nails slid down Law's back lightly, you knew every part of his body and knew the shivers that gave him.

That gesture was the most mischievous thing about your little shower. Your hands preferred to be busy massaging his tense shoulders and even though you had much less strength than the man, you could almost hear him purring when you squeezed harder. The moan of satisfaction escaped his lips as he practically melted into your hands as he felt your fingers massage through the dark strands of his hair, washing the short locks.

The shower took longer than usual, just because you couldn't detach your body from him. Your hands were already wrinkled from contact with the water when you left the bathtub behind. Seeing Law finish getting dressed, you knew there was no way to stop him from working that day, at least you had managed to hijack part of his morning.

"Did you know you make it even harder for me to leave this room?" he grumbled when he saw you pout. "That's a low blow, you look really cute like that."

"Polar Tang won't sink if it's away from your supervision for a day." you retorted and found him irreducible. The only way out at the moment was to accept. You stood on your toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Until later."

"See you later…" he walked to the door and turned around before leaving. "My door will be open if you want to visit."

"You're getting spoiled Trafalgar."

"Blame my girlfriend." he replied, leaving you alone with your laughter.

Returning to the kitchen, you took advantage of the presence of the others to make small talk, thinking about what would be your next move for Law's perfect day. Preparing lunch, you remembered the small gift you had bought for his birthday and with date is still far away, you could find a replacement and take advantage of today to surprise him.

"Guys, what did the captain do to her?" Penguin commented when he saw you again arranging a tray with some salads, grilled fish and a glass of juice. You knew that having missed part of the morning, Law was unlikely to stop work for lunch and this was the perfect opportunity to meet him again.

"I know. They definitely had a quickie early on." Shachi patted your back and you raised the knife that was arranging the food toward him. "Ouch, I'm kidding."

"Tell us, what was the tea?" Ikkaku said in a suggestive tone.

"I'm going to pretend I don't hear any of you three." you replied, adjusting the tray.

"But what's happening today with the captain, I barely saw him." Bepo butted in.

"You four."

Hearing your friends' complaints, you went to the room where Law was. All it took was a few knocks on the door and you heard a "come in" coming from inside. The smile that crossed Law's lips was reward enough for the day's efforts. Instead of standing up, Law gave you space to sit on his lap, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"This dish is so beautiful, send my thanks to the kitchen." He placed a few kisses on your shoulder. "I don't think I've ever eaten as well as I did today."

"That offends this crew's cook." he laughed, stealing a piece of fish from the plate. "After you eat, I left a surprise on your bed."

"Does this involve dessert?" his voice dropped a few decibels, making you laugh. You didn't know that your boyfriend - when relaxed - could be a potential pervert.

"No, that's only later." you moved your hips against his body, just to tease him. "Now I'm the one who needs to get back to work." You placed a quick kiss on him and left him alone.

Before returning to your tasks - which had been piling up since the morning - you went to his room to take the gift out of hiding. A rare and limited edition Sora collectible sticker album, along with most of the stickers. You had spent a good part of your monetary reserve on that, but it would be worth it.

The afternoon passed quickly as you finished all your pending tasks, it wasn't because you maintained a relationship with the captain that he and the other crew members would take it easy on you, this included fulfilling your responsibilities. When you returned to Law's little hideout - aka his room - you wished you'd had the chance to frame the scene that was playing out. Law was sitting on the floor, the album open and several stickers spread out along with some action-figures. He seemed to compare one of the ninjas whose names you couldn't remember with one of the shiny stickers.

"Looks like someone liked the gift." Your voice broke him out of his trance and before you continued, Law stood up and took your feet off the ground by hugging you tightly.

"This is the best gift I've ever gotten. Where did you get all this?" He pulled you onto the bed. "That one is super rare, I remember when me, Shachi and Penguin saw it the first time and tried to steal it from the boy…" he realized through your laughter that he had let his nerdy side escape. "You are incredible."

"Don't overdo it my babe."

"Today I felt so good." he pulled you so that your legs circled his waist, his hands automatically attaching themselves to your waist. "You make me feel so comfortable. I-I felt… You know what, never mind." He pushed the thoughts away with a smile on his lips and you noticed for the first time that that gesture was almost uncontrollable at the moment. Genuine happiness crossed Law's face.

"My beautiful boy, you know you can tell me."

"I felt loved." he confessed, warning you against his arms and stealing a quick kiss from you. "I feel loved every day by your side, but today was worth even for the bad days."

"I hope more days of your life are like this." You said, stroking the small hairs that littered his face.

"Of our lives."

"You'll end up spoiled." a small scream escaped your lips as he turned you over on the bed.

"Spoiled by you? Doesn't seem like a bad thing to me." he fit between your legs and you could feel him press down on you. "And if I remember correctly, I still have something more to gain."

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

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[capseycartwright]

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me."

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

ao3 link

November 1. The date is not one Eddie is likely to ever forget. Even before Shannon died, Dia de los Muertos wasn’t a holiday he ever missed - as a child, he would help his abuelo make their altar every year, a picture of his abuelo front-and-centre, Edmundo Diaz Senior, the man he’d been named for, looking sharp in his suit as he looked out from the glass picture frame where he’d lived all of Eddie’s life. He’d never met his grandfather - only carried his name. 

Over the years, more faces found a home on the altar - friends, and family, time a fickle thing and the only certainty about life that it ended. Death was familiar, a constant in a world Eddie felt like he could never quite figure out.

After Shannon died -

The first November 1 after she died, Eddie built his own altar for the first time, explaining the tradition to Christopher. They had done it every year since, Christopher’s face in a set line as he made sure everything was absolutely perfect. No less than his mother deserved, Eddie knew. 

Shannon hadn’t grown up with the traditions of All Saints and All Souls, but she’d embraced them wholly when she and Eddie had gotten married, making the altar herself when Eddie wasn’t there. It felt right to honour her with the traditions she had loved herself. That was why Eddie had taken to adding a picture of Shannon’s mother to the altar too, when she died the year after Shannon did. Breast cancer, they’d said, but Eddie knew heartbreak had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge.

Every year, Eddie celebrated Shannon, and her mother, his grandfather, the people he’d served with who had died - 

Except this year.

Eddie felt bad. Really, he did - he was going to build the altar himself, but when his dad had texted a picture of the Diaz family altar, Shannon front and centre, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to make his own. Shannon was being remembered - that was what mattered. He’d gone to her grave instead, only half listening as the priest had said mass over the graveyard, praying for the salvation of the souls who were buried there.

Grief was a funny old beast, Eddie knew. Grief had made him do crazy things - grief had driven his son to Texas, for crying out loud. The grief didn’t hit standing by her grave, but it did when dusk descended over Eddie’s house, and the absence of an altar began to feel like one of the worst things he’d done amongst a year of terrible decision-making.

Maybe he should have taken Buck up on his offer of coming over to make an altar with him, but Eddie had asked enough of his best friend in the last four months. Eddie knew Tommy had bought them tickets for some movie Buck was dying to see, and as much as Eddie was a near-professional third wheel now, he didn’t think he’d make a good addition to the back row of their local movie theatre.

Eddie winced as he looked at the candle he’d swiped from the dining table. “It’s cedarwood,” he said, apologetic as he lit it, setting the candle down in front of the framed picture of Shannon that lived on their fireplace. “I know you hated cedarwood, but I’m working with what I’ve got here, Shan.”

Eddie pressed his cheek against his folded arms, taking one, two, three shaky breaths. “I really struggled after you left, Shannon. I don’t think I really even realised how much until now - and it’s not just because you were gone, but you were gone and you wanted a divorce, and I - suddenly, I was never going to get answers.”

He’d been talking about Shannon a lot in therapy, lately, unpacking all his complicated feelings during his excruciating weekly hour with Frank. 

“I don’t know if I even wanted to stay married to you,” Eddie admitted, the candle flickering in the growing dark of his living room. That was terrifying to admit out loud - that even if she had stayed alive, he and Shannon wouldn’t have made it work. There were a thousand reasons why, and Eddie could sit, and list them all, but one was more important than the others. 

“I think I’m gay, Shannon,” Eddie had never said it out loud before, despite the thought never quite leaving his mind, Pandora’s box open, now. “If you were here, I bet you’d have such a laugh with that - not like, in a bad way. Just - I think you’d find it funny, that your mom’s gaydar was right after all.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought himself. Shannon’s mom had been the bitchiest woman he’d ever met, and Eddie loved her for it. 

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” Eddie paused. “But with you, most of all. I’m sorry - for my part in it all. I thought I was doing the right thing, joining the army. I just wanted to take care of you and Chris, and I didn’t see any other way out. I know it was the wrong choice - but I really thought it was the right one. You know?”

Shannon’s picture stayed silent. 

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. For the life she might have had, if not for the car crash - Eddie sometimes liked to indulge himself and think of an alternative life where Shannon had survived, where they got divorced, and learned how to co-parent, and maybe they found their way back to being friends. It was a nice thought.

Eddie wiped roughly at his eyes. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.” 

With a shaky hand, Eddie pressed a kiss to the framed picture, setting Shannon back down with the candle. It was a half-assed altar, and somehow, that made Eddie feel worse. He scrambled to his feet, heading for his bedroom, and the box of Shannon’s belongings he knew was stashed at the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t kept much for himself - most of it was for Christopher - but he had a few things. There was a necklace in there, he knew that Eddie had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. It was a cheap thing, because they were always broke, but it was something of hers - it would make it a more acceptable offering.

Eddie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as he spotted what was in his bedroom. A butterfly, resting on his pillowcase, on the side he always slept on. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered softly, not wanting to startle the tiny creature. His abuela loved butterflies - they were spirits of the people you loved, who had left, coming back to visit. Eddie felt slightly ridiculous, but he said it anyway. “Shannon?”

The butterfly didn’t move. 

“I’m so glad Christopher isn’t here, because he would really think I’ve lost it,” Eddie crouched by the side of his bed, holding out a finger. “Hey. Is this your way of telling me it’s okay to let you go? Did you hear all of that?” 

The butterfly moved, tiny wings fluttering as it came to land on Eddie’s outstretched finger. 

“I hope that’s a yes,” Eddie knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, but he didn’t want to freak the butterfly out by wiping them away. “How did you get in here, eh? None of the windows are open.”

If Eddie Diaz believed in a higher power, still, he’d blame God - or the universe. 

“Let’s get you outside,” Eddie said, and the butterfly flapped, a little, coming to land on the windowsill instead. “Yeah? You’re ready to go?”

The butterfly flapped in response again.

“I think I’m ready to let you go, this time,” Eddie admitted, carefully unlatching the window. “We’re going to be okay, me and Christopher. I promise. You can go. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

The butterfly seemed to pause, for a second, before it flew out the open window, disappearing into the beginnings of the evening. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, rolling off the curve of his chin and onto his shirt, but the next thing he knew, he could hear - 

“Buck?”

“Eddie! You’re a firefighter - how long have you left that candle unattended, huh? Eddie - Eddie, where are you, man?”

Buck appeared in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, a family-sized bag of sour patch kids tucked under one arm. “Do I need to teach you the basics of fire safety all over again?” he huffed, pausing as he noticed Eddie’s tears. “Eddie - you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie offered his best friend a teary smile. For the first time, Eddie might actually mean that yes. “I’m okay. There - there was a butterfly,” he explained, gesturing at the window vaguely. “I had to let it out.”

“A butterfly?” Buck looked confused. 

“My abuela always said butterflies were the spirits of people who’ve died,” Eddie explained. “I lit a candle for Shannon, and there was a butterfly just sitting on my pillow, when I came in here. It’s…” he paused. “It’s stupid.”  

Buck’s face softened. ‘It’s not stupid,” he shook his head. “You think it was Shannon?”

Eddie glanced at the window again. “I hope it was,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he closed the window. That in itself felt like symbolism, Eddie decided - a closing of a chapter he should have let go a long time ago. That’s what he needed it to be, at least. “Wait - aren’t you meant to be on a date?”

Bcuk shrugged. “We changed the tickets to tomorrow,” he explained, holding up the bag of candy. “You said you weren’t going to make an altar, and I didn’t want to let you skip out on it. These were her favourite, right?” 

Eddie could cry all over again. Buck, like Shannon, hadn’t grown up with Dia de los Muertos, but here he was, with a bag of Eddie’s dead wife’s favourite candy, ready to sit in Eddie’s grief with him. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d done in a previous life to deserve a friend like Evan Buckley, but he thanked whatever God or universe was listening for giving him Buck anyway.

“She’d eat so many she’d give herself a stomach-ache,” Eddie grinned, and the memory didn’t hurt, the way it used to, the grief a dull ache that he could grow around, now. He leaned into the embrace Buck offered, breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent of Buck’s favourite cologne. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck hummed, pressing a ridiculous, loud, smacking kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie loved him. “But I’m buying you one of those electric candle warmers if you’re going to keep leaving candles unattended, Eddie.” 

Eddie was mostly listening as he let Buck guide him back to the living room, the candle still flickering golden in front of Shannon’s picture. It was the same one he’d put on her memorial programme - bright, and beautiful, just like she’d always been when she was alive. 

Buck grinned, as he set a piece of candy in front of her picture. “Berry,” he explained. “My favourite,” he added, tossing a handful of the sour sweets into his own mouth. 

They sat, the television playing reruns of a procedural in the background, eating candy until their stomachs hurt, the candle burning all the way to the end. 

The butterfly didn’t come back.

Buck stayed.

Eddie was ready to move on.

(Buck stayed.)

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Serendipity*

Summary-Harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. It all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. As panic sets in, Harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. From that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both.

Words: 5k

Warnings: LOVE! SO MUCH LOVE AND SWEETNESS AND SOFTNESS IN THIS ONE! BUT ALSO-kissing, bathing together, p in v sex, a bit of cursing, loads of fluff.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

You stood in the bridal suite, your best friend Amelia bustling around in her stunning wedding gown. The room was a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, joy, and a hint of nervousness. It was her big day, and you couldn't have been happier for her.

Months of planning had led to this moment, and you had been Ame’s right-hand woman every step of the way. The dress, the flowers, the decorations—you had been there for it all. Today was the culmination of her dreams, and you were thrilled to witness her marry the love of her life.

As the time for the ceremony approached, you could feel your heart beating faster. You had the honor of being her maid of honor, and you couldn't wait to stand by her side as she walked down the aisle. But there was one small hiccup—the absence of your escort.

Panic set in as you looked around the room, realizing that you were missing the crucial piece of the bridal party puzzle. "Where's my escort?" you asked, your voice betraying the tension building inside you.

Ames looked at you with concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your partner? He was supposed to be here long ago–"

Your mind raced, trying to figure out a solution. The best man was missing. Great. Now, you were left without a partner, the groom was left without the best man, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone made your stomach churn.

You fiddled with your fingers, heart throbbing in your chest as your mind reeled. This was a disaster. So many people couldn’t make it–most of them were supposed to be there for backup if anything bad happened and now, along with them,–your escort was missing too. You were beginning to think if you were the bad luck here.

“I’ll see if someone else is willing, the guests are already out there and I’ll look like a moron but I will–” you rambled, sweat forming on your forehead. This was a bad habit of yours. Panicking so much that you wore yourself down, and if you didn’t breathe and relax, your makeup and hair would be ruined and–

Just as you were about to leave the room in a haste, the door knocked. You all looked at each other with curious gazes, oblivious to who it was.

“Who is that? All of us are here and maybe it’s your dad–” 

You stood by the door, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself to explain it all in case they ask what is taking so long.

But, as you opened the door, you opened it slightly, just in case it was the groom, Eddie.

To your surprise, it was someone else–someone you haven't met before. He was sharply dressed, suit and all, piercing green eyes looking straight into yours.

“I’m sorry-I don’t know you” you asked, and he smiled.

“I’m Harry. I’m a friend of Amelia’s brother. Your escort wasn’t here and Eddie was freaking out, so he sent me here”

You searched his eyes, and they were so calm, so soft. Your heartbeat began to steady, and you walked out of the door, closing it shut, even though it was time.

“You’re sure you won’t mind? Or you're not taken by someone else?”

He chuckled, a sound that you know you will be longing to hear once again. 

“No-I’m not taken by someone else. That’s why I came here. To help you in case you need it. What’s your good name?”

You were lost in the way his lips moved as he talked, completely phasing out and not listening to a word he said. God, he was so pretty.

“Hello?” he asked once again, completely aware of how your gaze was fixated on him. He couldn’t lie, he knew he looked irresistible. But the way you were ogling him in the time of crisis–it was something he hadn’t seen before.

“Hello” he said again, waving his hand over your face to obstruct your view, and that’s what broke your gaze. You blinked rapidly, mumbling “Sorry” before asking him what he said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n. But–what about the best man?”

“I am the best man. It was supposed to be Archie, I know. But this wedding was a last minute plan and he’s drunk as hell right now in Vegas.”

“Oh God. I told them not to get married one week after the proposal. But who would listen to me? I’m just the maid of honor after all. I swear if anything, anything happens, I will–” You were stopped by him, as he said,  “Y/n. The wedding”

“Yeah. sorry”

You pulled the door back open, Ames coming out, and Harry fawned over how perfect she looked. He was like a brother to her, and you never met this gorgeous, gorgeous man till now. How?

Her father came soon, ready to walk her down the aisle.

You look at her one last time, her face glowing and so, so pretty. Her hair, the dress, the veil–it’s all so perfect.

“Let’s walk you down the aisle.”

>>>

As you made your way down the aisle, all eyes were on you and Harry. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but Harry's hand on your arm gave you the confidence to keep walking with your head held high.

You could see Amelia and her soon-to-be husband at the end of the aisle, both looking nervous and excited. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, knowing how much they loved each other. The priest stood behind them , ready to commence the wedding.

As you reached the altar, Harry stepped aside and you took your place next to Amelia. The ceremony began and you couldn't help but feel emotional as you watched your best friend exchange vows with the love of her life. The rings were exchanged, and kisses and promises were made. It was the perfect wedding that she had planned, and you were so glad you would make it happen for her in such short notice.

During the reception, Harry proved to be the perfect replacement for the missing best man. He made everyone laugh with his witty jokes and kept the party going with his dance moves. After the dance of the bride and groom, everyone was slow dancing–even your father and mother, and they looked so cute together.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping water and looking at them all.

Harry appeared beside you, letting you finish up your water, before looking down at you, offering you his hand, “Can I have a dance?” he asked.

You smiled, wiping some of the drops from your lips carefully, and nodding happily.

“I would love to dance with you, Harry”

You held his hand and got up, letting him lead you to the dance floor. Once you stood in front of each other, you instinctively placed your arm on his shoulder, his coming to rest on your waist. You both held each other’s hands then–intertwining your fingers, and they fit so perfectly.

As the music started to play, you could feel Harry’s body moving in sync with yours. He led you gracefully around the dance floor, his steps confident and smooth. 

You couldn’t help but admire his movements, the way he effortlessly glided across the floor.

“You’re a fantastic dancer, Y/N” Harry whispered in your ear, making you blush at the praise.

 “Thank you, but I think you’re the one making me look good,” you replied, teasingly. He chuckled, spinning you around before pulling you back into his arms. Your chests collided, and you looked up at him, getting lost in his piercing green eyes. 

“You know, I could get used to dancing with you like this” Harry said, his voice low and husky, his words meant for your ears only. You couldn’t resist the urge to press your body closer to his, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you. 

“I could too” you breathed out, feeling your heart flutter at the intense gaze he was giving you. The two of you continued to dance, your bodies moving fluidly together as if you were one. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, heightening every touch and every movement. 

As the song came to an end, Harry pulled you into a gentle embrace, his hand caressing your back soothingly. 

“That was amazing, Y/N” he said, his voice full of admiration. 

“I couldn’t agree more, '' you replied, a smile spreading across your face, and a blush spread across your cheeks. 

As the night went on, you and Harry found ourselves lost in each other's company. You talked about everything and anything, laughing and sharing stories. You found yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night went on. He was charming, funny, and easy to talk to. You couldn't believe you had just met him today.

But as the night came to an end, it was time for the bride and groom to leave. You both rushed back to the reception, saying your goodbyes to them before they left.

But before, it was time for her to toss the bouquet.

Everyone cheered as she came into view, holding the bouquet as all the single girls gathered behind her, ready to catch it and be the next to marry. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but you wanted to be there for her.

"Alright, here goes nothing!" Amelia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

As the bouquet soared through the air, you watched in amazement, hardly daring to believe her luck. In a surreal moment, the bouquet seemed to be heading directly towards you, almost as if guided by fate itself. Without even consciously trying, your hands instinctively reached out, and to your astonishment, you felt the soft petals and stems of the bouquet in your grasp.

Gasps of surprise echoed around the room as you stood there, stunned, clutching the bouquet tightly to your chest. You quickly glanced around, wide-eyed, as the other girls congratulated you with genuine smiles, though perhaps tinged with a hint of envy.

Amelia, the radiant bride, beamed at you, her eyes shining with joy. "Looks like someone's next in line for love!" she teased, her voice filled with excitement.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of happiness and disbelief wash over you. "I-I can't believe it! And I don’t even have a boyfriend" you stammered, voice shaky and still in shock from the unexpected turn of events.

Soon, it was time for them to leave, and as Ames and Eddie said their goodbyes, kissing and laughing as they sat in the car, ready to leave.

You hugged her for one last time, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Pulling back, he pulled her back, and they both got in the car, driving away.

It was all like a dream. A perfect dream that had come true.

You were happy, smiling as you watched their car disappear into the darkness, and it was after a while that you realized you had lost harry.

Panic started to set in as you searched every corner of the reception hall, but Harry was nowhere to be found. You asked around, but no one had seen him. Just as you were about to give up and accept that you had lost him, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw Harry standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I got lost in the crowd, and then some girl came to talk to me, and I think she was trying to get my number, but I shrugged her off. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.

Relief flooded through you as he pulled you into a tight hug. “I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you either,” you replied, hugging him back just as tightly. It was instinct, and none of you cared that you had hugged.

Pulling back, you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment too long. You wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was taken, but you were scared.

He definitely was taken. A charming British man who looked so good, made you laugh and was so perfect.

So, you decided to shrug it off, the feeling of wanting to hold him once again, pulling at the strings of your heart. He was perfect, so perfect. And so dreamy.

“So–you shrugged off a girl?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood, and to dissipate the thick tension in the air between you two.

“Oh–yeah” he chuckled, one which you were maybe hearing for the last time.

“Yeah, so was being a bit touchy, and I was uncomfortable, so I told her. And–then she asked for my number, so-”

“So?”

“I said no”

“Because–you’re seeing someone? Because if you’re not, that was kinda stupid–I think. Weddings are real meet-cutes.” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“No–uh, um, I’m not seeing someone, it’s just–I didn’t want her number. I–I wanted yours.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. You were not expecting him to say that. The girl who approached him was probably pretty, and definitely prettier than you. Then why did he say no to her, and yes to you?

“Me–cool cool cool cool cool” you stammered, and looked down, blushing and having no idea what to say next.

He sensed your dilemma, and held your hand in his.

“Y/n–please, look at me”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to. He was so pretty and so perfect and here he was, standing in front of you, asking for your number after rejecting someone else.

And you knew, if you looked up, you would definitely fall in love with him.

Harry waited for you to look up at him, and when you didn’t, he lifted his right hand, holding your chin softly and lifting your face up, making you look into his eyes.

And it was over for you. You fell for him.

“Y/n–I really like you. And what we shared today–the dance, the talks, the laughs–it was so perfect. You’re so perfect. And I didn’t talk to that girl or dance or laugh with her. I did all that with you. And–I think I’ve fallen for you”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you choked out a laugh. It was so unexpected, but it felt like it was meant to be. His hand was in yours, and he was holding it with so much promise. And on your other hand, was the bouquet. A promise. 

“Y/n–will you go on a date with me?” he asked, and you nodded immediately, wiping a stray tear that had fallen on your cheeks. You immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding him close tightly, never wanting to let go.

>>>

Your first date was a week later.

Harry called you to his house, and he had texted you his address. He didn’t say what he had planned for tonight. He wanted it to be a surprise, and you knew it would be beautiful.

As you arrived at Harry's house, your heart fluttered with anticipation. You had no idea what he had planned for tonight, but you knew it would be something special, just like him. Stepping out of your car, you made your way to his front door, excitement bubbling inside you.

Harry greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he led you inside. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, taking your hand in his. "I've got something amazing planned for us tonight."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with," you replied, your heart pounding with anticipation.

After a quick drive, you arrived at a secluded spot far from the city lights, where the stars shone brightly overhead. The air was crisp and cool, and the sound of laughter and music filled the night.

"What is this place?" you asked, gazing around in wonder at the vibrant scene before you.

Harry grinned, his eyes dancing with excitement. "It's a lantern festival," he explained, looking so happy. "I thought it would be the perfect setting for our first date."

You felt a surge of delight at the sight of the colorful lanterns lighting up the night sky. "It's incredible," you exclaimed, taking in the festive atmosphere around you.

As you wandered through the festival, hand in hand with Harry, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. Everywhere you looked, couples and families were gathered together, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"We should release a lantern," Harry suggested, his eyes shining with excitement. "But what should we write on it?"

You paused for a moment, pondering the question. And then, a smile spreads across your face as an idea forms in your mind. "How about our initials?" you suggested, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

He smiled back at you, his eyes soft with affection. "I love that idea," he replied, pulling you close for a hug.

Together, you made your way to the lantern station, where a kind elderly man handed you a lantern and a marker. 

“This is so beautiful, Harry. Thank you for this” you thanked him, as he, with trembling hands, wrote your initials on the surface of the lantern. He smiled at you, finishing it up, and taking your hand once again, ready to light it up and set it afloat.

You reached the top of the hill, heart pounding in your chest as you stopped. He held the lantern, and you carefully lit the matchstick, lighting the tiny wick under it on fire.

With Harry by your side, you watched as the lantern soared gracefully into the air, its soft glow illuminating the darkness around you.

After that, there was a second date. And then a third, after which, you both started dating.

It was at dinner at a restaurant, and he had specifically naked you to dress up for it. You knew he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t help calm your nerves.

You had worn a red dress, one that you had bought a long time ago. It still fits you well, and you couldn’t wait for Harry to see you in this. 

As you stepped into the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the elegant dining room, casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw you, dressed in the red dress you had carefully chosen for this occasion. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze lingering on you, for a moment too long. That was exactly what you had wished when you put it on.

 "You look absolutely stunning." he complimented, finally lifting his gaze from the dress and bringing it to your face.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you took in his handsome appearance as well, dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his strong features. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly. "You don't look too bad yourself."

As you settled into your seats, the air crackled with anticipation. Harry reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I wanted tonight to be special," he began, his voice soft and earnest. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, sensing the gravity of his words. "What is it?" you asked, barely able to contain your excitement.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shining with emotion. "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together, and ‘m really happy when I’m with you," he confessed. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying. The world fell away as you melted into each other, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

After dinner, you made your way back to Harry's place, the anticipation building with each step. As you entered his apartment, the air hummed with electricity, charged with the promise of what was to come.

You kissed each other, hands pulling at each other’s clothes and pulling them off. You reached the bedroom, laughing and giggling,and locking the door.

You stood in front of Harry, your hands running down his chest, you couldn't help but admire the muscles that rippled beneath his skin. His hands traced the curves of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a shy smile forming on your lips. “And you're so handsome,” you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving in perfect sync as your tongues danced together. You could feel the heat building between your bodies, the need for each other growing with each passing moment.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Harry's hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your own need for him evident in the way your body pressed against his. He led you to the bedroom, your hands never leaving each other's bodies. As you entered the room, the soft glow of candles greeted you, casting a warm light on the bed.

Harry gently pushed you down onto the soft sheets, his lips trailing down your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. “You're so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his hands caressing every inch of your body.

You moaned at his touch, the sensations overwhelming you. His lips moved down to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it gently into his mouth. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let out a soft moan.

He moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your stomach. Your breath hitched as he reached your core, his tongue tracing circles around your clit. You let out a low moan, your hips moving in rhythm with his mouth.

“Harry,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as he continued to pleasure you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he added a finger inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. His finger was moving so well, hitting all the right spots. 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need. “I'm going to come,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair.

As you reached your peak, Harry's lips never leaving your body, you let out a cry of pleasure, your body shaking with ecstasy. He crawled back up to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to pleasure you once again.

As he entered you, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your moans filled the room, mixing with Harry's as your bodies moved as one.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his own climax.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion as you reached your peak together, your bodies trembling with pleasure.

You lay in each other’s arms, breathing ragged, but bodies satisfied and contented. He pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheeks, making you feel so pretty.

“We should clean up. Have a bath with me?” he asked after a moment or so, and you nodded. He pulled you close, but your legs were like jello, so he lifted you up like a koala, and carried you to the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet seat in case you wanted to pee, and went to get the shower ready.

You both cleaned each other. Blowing bubbles and suds, throwing water at each other, gigging, and so happy. 

You threw some water at him, and a bit of soap got in his eyes. You panicked, immediately running the tap again and helping him wash it.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry, Harry–I dodn’t mean to, I was just playing, are you alright?”

He started giggling, throwing his arms at his chest and laughing at you like you were a clown.

“Ahhh” you yelled, throwing water at him again, and yelling at him for making you scared. He pulled you close once again, kissing your mouth as you lay in there for what felt like hours.

>>>

The next few months of your relationship were a blur, each moment with Harry feeling like a dream come true. You both were incredibly compatible, sharing laughter, adventures, and countless memories together. But just as your love was blossoming, a job opportunity arose for Harry – one that would take him to another state for a year.

At first, the news felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of being apart from Harry filled you with an overwhelming sense of sadness and uncertainty. But as you talked it over with him, you realized that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. It was a chance for him to advance in his career, to chase his dreams, and you couldn't be prouder of him.

So, you made a promise to each other – to make the most of the time you had left together, to cherish every moment, and to stay connected no matter the distance. As the days passed, you cherished each date, each kiss, and each shared laugh as if it were your last.

And when the day finally came for Harry to leave, it was bittersweet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held him tight, unwilling to let go. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but love and determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I'll call you every chance I get, I promise."

With a heavy heart, you watched him drive away, the distance between you growing with each passing mile. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you stayed connected through phone calls, texts, and video chats.

And despite the distance, your love only grew stronger. You supported each other through the challenges, celebrated each other's successes, and counted down the days until you could be together again.

>>>

The days apart seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one filled with a longing that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of your being. You counted down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until you would once again be reunited with Harry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence.

But even in the midst of the pain, you held onto the memories of your time together, each one a beacon of light in the darkness of your separation. You replayed the moments you had shared in your mind, savoring the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the depth of his love.

And then, at long last, the day arrived. You stood at the airport, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd for any sign of Harry. And then, there he was, striding towards you with that familiar smile that melted your heart.

You ran into his arms, tears of joy streaming down your face as you held him close, unable to believe that he was finally here, with you, where he belonged.

And then, in a moment that felt like something out of a fairytale, Harry got down on one knee, his eyes shining with love as he held out a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never want to spend another day apart from you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Your heart swelled with love as you nodded, tears of happiness blurring your vision. Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, just like the two of you.

And as you embraced, you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. This was the moment that made all the distance and all the struggles worth it. You were here, in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

"I promise to always love you," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "To support you, to stand by your side no matter what."

"I promise to make every day with you an adventure," he continued, his eyes locked on yours. "To cherish and adore you for all eternity."

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your magical love story. A story that had been tested by distance and time, but had only grown stronger because of it.

And as you held each other close, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had found your serendipity – a love that was unexpected, yet destined, a love that would guide you through every twist and turn of life's journey, forever and always. You never knew that you had found the love of your life at that wedding, the person who was your last-minute escort would be the one you would marry one day, and love and cherish forever.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

i love you all 💌tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[ambrozjas]

Could u do Johnny cuddling hcs? Or all of the gang separately

Anyways I love your writing sm 😭🫶🏼

the gang with cuddling ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry this took so long to come out !! i’ve been absolutely swamped with homework, thank you for this request 🫶 i hope you all enjoy !!

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

let me know if there’s any warnings i need to add !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

you shifted away from DARRY a little bit to gather some of the coldness from the untouched part of the bed.

you hummed in delight as the foreign coldness of the sheets enveloped your body and you were met with a refreshing scent of lavender detergent, probably due to the fact that darry washed his sheets a few hours ago.

your eyes fell shut once again, falling into the euphoric feeling of sleep, before you heard shuffling behind you and felt a strong arm sling itself over your midriff.

you turn your head at an angle to see darry behind you, eyes still closed as he pulls you flush against him.

“y’awake, dare?” you whisper, turning your head as far as it could go so you could look at him.

all he does is nuzzle his face into the back of your hair, and gives you a small noise, signaling that he’s dozing off again.

you shake your head and softly chuckle, turning your head back to a comfortable position as you lay there in darry’s arms, content with just his presence. you know that one of you would get hot and would pull away in the night, but knowing that you’re still next to each is enough comfort on its own, so you didn’t mind all that much. no matter how hot darry was, he’d still have your pinkies locked or a hand against your back, just so he knows you’re there.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you woke up abruptly with a hand landing on your face, looking over to see SODAPOP, mouth partially open as soft snores left his pink lips. he looked so peaceful, unaware of how he just assaulted your face in his slumber.

soda always slept wild. he moved a whole lot, and not always in a good way. ponyboy told you how once, he found sodapop upside down with his foot in pony’s face.

when you turned your head to look at soda some more, you couldn’t help but admire how serene he looked in his sleep. his hair a disheveled mess when it wasn’t greased, flattened against his white pillow, his jawline soft as his chin tucked itself in. you narrowed your eyes at him as you recall how he woke you up once his leg twitches.

you wonder what he’s dreaming about as you flinch away once he jolts in his sleep. his lashes flutter open at the absence of you next to him as his hand comes up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “what’s wrong, darlin’?” his voice is altered from the thick layer of sleep coating it, giving it a gravely tone rather than his usual voice.

you knew that if you told him of how he woke you up, he’d probably feel a tad bit guilty. so instead of saying anything, you just shake your head and lean back down, resting your head on soda’s chest, your head rising with every breath he took.

“i love you.”

“love ya, too.” he says, closing his eyes once again as he shuffled to get comfortable, his arm wrapping around you as he pulls you closer.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“from her french mother, whose parents had felt haiti in the revolution of 1791, had come her slanting eyes, shadowed by inky lashes..” you listened as PONYBOY read his copy of ‘gone with the wind’ to you. resting your head on pony’s shoulders, you tucked yourself into his side. you felt the vibrations of pony’s voice in your position, the feeling almost soothed you as he read.

“y’still awake?” he confirmed, taking a moment to stop reading and look down at you. you met his eyes, finding yourself in a sea of grey hazel, before looking back at the book and giving him a small, ‘mhm’.

“you liar.” he shakes his head, careful to place a bookmark in his book before setting it down on the desk beside his bed.

“i was awake, pony!—“

“you was almost drooling on my shoulder.” he said, shuffling down under the covers to get comfortable. once pony actually lays down, you immediately wriggle your way into the taut comforter next to pony, burrowing into his side.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, pony awkwardly stiff as he feels you nuzzle into him. he opened his mouth to speak, it gaping open and closed like a fish as he considered whether or not to interrupt the quiet.

“why do you like me reading to you? couldn’t you read yourself?” he muttered with caution, trying hard so as to not make you think he didn’t like reading to you because trust me, pony really did like reading to you.

“like your voice.” you croaked, voice muffled in the pillows. you stayed there for a moment, feeling pony’s body heat up with just one comment.

you held back a giggle as you threw an arm around his waist and nuzzled into him until there was no space left, no gap to differentiate the two bodies, instead just one heap of love on pony’s bed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you watched JOHNNY look both ways before stealthily running out of his house, coming through the window as to not interrupt the commotion in the living room. you frowned as you saw the two figures yelling and thrashing about in the window, hearing a multitude of slams and glass breaking inside.

you beckoned johnny over as you perched yourself behind a tree, just in case anybody came out. you caught glimpses of his face when he ran, the moonlight dripping through the worn branches of the trees surrounding the pathway to his house. in those few gaps where you saw his face, although altered with the color of blue from the moon, you didn’t miss the faint tear streaks on his face and the reddening of his eyes and lips.

a curt, “lot?” was all that left your lips before johnny nodded vigorously. you thought, anything was better than, you looked back to the house and even through the curtains you could still see the two figures fighting and shouting so angrily it was almost unintelligible, that.

you held out your hand to johnny, offering at least some form of comfort on the way to the empty lot. he took it, his hand felt cold and calloused. you frowned as you felt some scarring from trying to protect his head when he got jumped by the socs that one time. nonetheless, you both bolted away into the darkness and headed to the lot in a desperate attempt to get away from this place.

“i hate it.” johnny had finally blurted out once you two had reached the lot and caught your breaths. you cradled his head as your heart broke when you felt his shoulders heave, probably trying to put a tough front as he muffled his sobs.

that whole night was spent with endless whispers of promises and assurance. countless mumbles of promising that you two would get enough money to move away from tulsa, to a place where there wasn’t any of this. where you two could be free.

johnny had cried himself out and fallen asleep with his head on your lap. you twirled and played with his hair, rubbing your fingers together at the texture of grease. you were comforted by the sounds of nature around you, owls hooting and crickets chirping filled the silence as your eyes stayed on johnny.

even though you knew your neck would be killing you, you leaned your head on an empty crate and didn’t move a single inch so johnny wouldn’t wake up.

it’s okay, you thought to yourself, one day i’ll take you out of this place.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“stop—!” you whined, swatting DALLAS’ hand away as he kept poking at your cheeks. your eyes were still shut closed as you were trying to doze off, before dally had so rudely interrupted you.

you had gotten used to the stench of cigarettes, it was practically everywhere. in dallas’ room at bucks house, on dal’s clothes, his hair no matter how well he washed it. of course, there were some other undertones to it too. the deodorant dal always wore was musky as it seeped into your nostrils whenever you got close to his chest. it was just like him, strong and overwhelming.

you pouted, hiding your face into his chest so he couldn’t bother your face anymore. but he always had a way around it, so instead of poking your face he settled on flicking your ears with his index finger.

he scoffed in amusement when he realized you had really ignored him and fallen asleep.

dallas looked around the room and sighed, his nostrils blowing out smoke once his chest dropped with the breath.

it was a few thick moments of quiet, the only noise coming from the chirping of the ceiling fan that you would always complain about hoping it would never fall on you due to how worn down it was, before the door swung open only to reveal no other than buck merrill.

he opened his mouth to speak, wide and ready to talk, before he laid eyes on the sight before him.

you, asleep with your head on dally’s chest. and dallas? arm hanging off the side of the bed and his body not moving an inch so as to not disturb you, cigarette dangling out of his mouth as per usual.

“shit.” buck mumbles, watching dally wave his hand, careful not to add motion to the rest of his arm, to tell buck to go scratch. buck simply raised a hand in a surrender type motion and exited in the room. dally tsked as he heard buck walk backwards into something, it creating a loud enough sound to where he looked at you, watching you stir. he tapped out his cigarette and threw it on the desk next to him, bringing a hand to the small of your back as he lolled his head to the side, taking deep breaths in an effort to fall asleep, too.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“geronimo!” yelled TWO-BIT as he jumped onto you, limbs spread out so he could successfully cage you in although careful to put his knees below him so he didn’t bodyslam you entirely.

“no—!” you only had a quick moment to react, tucking your legs in as you braced for impact. you had to admit though, seeing two-bit take the form of a sugar glider above you was hilarious.

his body diving onto yours wasn’t so hilarious, though.

your breath was knocked out of your lungs as you scrambled to escape under your boyfriends body, elbowing him as he doubled over with laughter.

you huffed as you realized he wasn’t budging any soon, dropping your shoulders with nothing else to do. two looked up at you, the corners of his cold blue eyes crinkling as he gave you a cheeky grin. his arms snaked themselves around your waist and squeezed, mumbling nonsense before he pressed his face into your stomach. his voice was muffled in the fabric of your shirt as he muttered quick things, you could’ve sworn you heard a, “beautiful” in there.

“‘s that all you broke my ribs for, mathews? a quick cuddle?” you teased him, your voice quick with your restriction of air support.

there’s a quick pause before two-bit mumbles a quick ‘no’ and turns his face over to the side so you can hear his words.

you twirled the curl that he always greases with your fingers, absentmindedly playing with his hair as he hummed, giving you a small groan when you scratched at his scalp.

two-bit was annoying sometimes, but domestic moments like this always made you forget about it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“imagine how the boys would react to seein’ you now, STEVE.” that teasing was also meant seriously, because you did wonder. how would the gang react to finding steve on your lap as his head stayed glued to the crook of your neck? it was almost comical.

“ah, shut up.” he grumbled, yet he took no action to move away from you, his words contained lack of any threats.

you hummed in response, patting his back as you listened to his breathing. he started to doze off again, his head getting heavier by the minute as his body relaxed.

you suddenly jolted up, hoping to scare steve out of his slumber, but he was dead asleep. the only noise that was heard were his soft snores leaving his parted mouth.

you pouted. you wish you would’ve moved before having him sit there, only because you couldn’t see his face though.

you rolled your eyes as you heard steve’s snores getting louder as he entered into a deeper sleep, his weight almost unbearable. so instead of just sitting through that torture, you gently leaned back and laid steve down beside you.

just as you were about to shuffle away to give him his space, you heard an arm slap and shift at the couch’s cushion. you turned around, your eyes trailing up the arm, on the tattoo his shoulder adorned, and finally at his face. his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes closed, eyelashes perfectly on display as he attempted to find you.

so you stayed there, having steve cling onto you while he slept. because really, who could deny steve when he was as serene as he was?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ some of them were kinda sleeping related? but it still kinda counts guys trust 🙏

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱