#make the guy’s face ‘unrecognisable’

[vigilskeep]

I need you to go into more detail about how you think Viago must have been feeling/reacted during those weeks where Rook was stuck in the Fade please please please I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure here

i don’t think i can answer this question effectively when how viago feels about my rook de riva and the relationship he has with them may be very different to how he feels about your or anyone else’s rook de riva. and even for my own i am still cooking up the correct scenes. but i can tell you that i often forget how vicious viago’s temper can actually get and i personally, for my enrichment, would like to see what kind of thing he is willing to say to the party when devastated enough to not control it. and ideally as a special treat i would like him to stumble on his feet as soon as they’re out of view and teia to be there to catch him. that would do nicely to start with

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

[chelseeebe]

seven minutes in heaven.

a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that

18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here

‎♡‧₊˚

eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.

he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.

it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.

his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.

eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.

he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.

oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.

before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.

oh god oh god oh god.

‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.

steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.

please no. please literally anyone other than him.

if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.

‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.

it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.

it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.

‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.

he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.

with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-

‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.

‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.

‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.

eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.

‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?

‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.

‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.

okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.

he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.

your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.

adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.

your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.

deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.

your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.

‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.

he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.

‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.

his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.

he’s a goner.

grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.

‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.

there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.

‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.

‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.

he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.

‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.

you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.

‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.

you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.

the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.

‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.

sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.

it goes on and on.

robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.

then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.

steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.

and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.

it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.

eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.

‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.

eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.

‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.

‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.

he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.

‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.

‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.

‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.

‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.

‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.

instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.

the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.

when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.

‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.

hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’

your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.

‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.

‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.

‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.

he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.

tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?

just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.

‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.

‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.

‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.

‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.

using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.

your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.

‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.

his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.

‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.

‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’

his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.

‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.

‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.

even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.

your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.

that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.

but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.

this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.

you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.

he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.

your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.

‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.

his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.

‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.

was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.

it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.

‘yeah..’

you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.

‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’

‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.

‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.

he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.

and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.

you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.

a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.

eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.

‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.

‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.

that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.

he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.

lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.

his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.

‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.

your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.

he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.

you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.

there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.

‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.

his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.

eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.

a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.

‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.

‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.

‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.

‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.

his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[undisclosedproxy]

Possessive, obsessive, aggressive T.R T.N M.R

Summary: This will be a continued little series i will be writing. It’s an au on how Y/N has moved into a house with Theodore, Mattheo and Tom after they finished their schooling at hogwarts.(p.s this is kinda just an intro so give me suggestion on scenarios i should do!!) (My inspo is from this girl who made an Au called “new girl” or smth, if u see this girl ilysm) These three boys are all madly in love with her and they aren’t afraid to show it in all ways necessary, and Y/N? well she doesn’t mind being shared.

The soft wind of the morning sunrise blew through Y/N’s open window, causing her to slowly open her eyes with a soft groan at the change in temperature. One minute she had been cozy and warm, the next she was freezing. There had been a massive party last night at their usual homely manor; she could barely remember anything except dancing, sex, and drinking. Her head throbbed with pain as she slowly sat up, her body aching and her mind spinning. Her tired eyes scanned the room, feeling relieved when everything was clean, as usual. She sighed as she tried to run her fingers through her hair, only to meet large, painful knots. She couldn’t be bothered to deal with this yet; the sun hadn’t even risen, so she didn’t have to either. Y/N fell back onto her soft bed with a thump.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard loud pots and pans clattering downstairs. She knew instantly who it was—Tom. Why is this guy always so nonchalant, doing the most random things? She forced her tired body out of bed and practically dragged herself and her rats nest of hair to the kitchen, where he was currently attempting to clean the basically trashed manor.

”You’re awake.” he said dryly, his face as still and emotionless as usual.

Y/N’s brows furrowed in annoyance as she watched him clean up cups and trash from their sleek counters. He was dressed in his usual day attire—neither too casual nor too formal. Y/N always wondered how he was always so put together and organized. It was one of the reasons she adored him so much. He had been there for her when she felt like her life was falling apart, helping her piece it back together.

”You’re loud.” Y/N responded back with the same dry tone in her voice.

“Well I do sincerely apologise I have cleaning to do. You imbeciles trashed the manor.” Tom said in his monotone voice as he stood up straight to look Y/N in the eyes.

“Please just be quieter..” Y/N murmured as she flopped onto the large couch, Tom watched her from behind the counter, times like this is when he really enjoys the open concept of the manor, he can watch her do everything.

”I. am. sorry.” He said in a forced voice, Tom doesn’t apologise, he’s never apologised to anyone, expect Y/N. He has a special place for her in his heart, they all do, hence they all moved in together.

”mph” she murmured back already half asleep on the couch.

Tom walked over to the cupboard with long strides and grabbed a lancet from the top shelf and draped it over Y/N and kissed her forehead and let her rest.

2 and a half hours later

”Are you serious? you’re kicking me out?” An annoying loud female voice screeched from upstairs as her loud thumping stomps could be heard throughout the whole home.

”Not even a good morning? or making me breakfast?” she yelled angrily, obviously still pretty under the influence of the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs she did last night.

“Morni-” Mattheo started with a yawn as he came downstairs to a sleeping Y/N and a grumpy Tom.

”Shut up.” Tom huffed cutting him off.

”Why so angry dearest brother? You didn’t get any pussy last night?” Mattheo asked obviously just trying to get under Toms skin as much as he can.

”I do not indulge in those ludicrous activities you and Nott get into.” Tom said shoving a paper plate of a food that was unrecognisable into the trash bag he was holding, a grim look plastered onto his face.

”Speaking of those ludicrous activities, what is that god awful screeching emitting from Theodores quarters.” Tom said looking around in disgust as he assessed the progress of cleaning he had done.

”I have no idea what you just said.” Mattheo said standing in the middle of the open kitchen and living room awkwardly as he stared blankly at his brother.

”What? Are you-? Forget it. Go tell them to close their mouths, they’ll wake up Y/N.” Tom said glancing over Y/Ns sleeping figure that somehow hasn’t awakened from the squealing. Mattheo’s gaze softened at the sight, he was about to go upstairs but was interrupted.

“FUCK YOU THEODORE NOTT!” The girl screamed, finally shes revealed herself, she ran down the stairs wearing just a skimpy red thong as she bundled up her dark blue dress to her chest to cover her and use the last bit of decency she was holding on to.

Tom and Mattheo watched as the girl ran out of the manor angrily, still muttering rude words directed to Theodore. Theodore’s foot steps got louder as he came down the stairs quickly, he was wearing just boxers obviously he had an eventful night. He opened the door forcefully and threw her heels at her accidentally hitting her straight in the head.

”OUCH!” She screeched from outside.

Theodore sighed as he locked the door with a quick motion. He turned to everyone else, an amused and tired Mattheo, a grumpy Tom and a just woken up, confused Y/N.

”What?” Theodore asked confused as he stared blankly back at everyone.

[10underoot2]

I thought I would have so much to say about the car accident scene. And while I could go on for a while on why it's everything I've ever wanted from a scene of this nature and why it's a beautifully acted cinematic piece, I do think the beauty of the scene lies so much in silence. Their expressions are do a fantastic job to express their emotional state so I'm just gonna call attention to a few things I won't get over anytime soon.

Imagine being Haein and seeing your husband wrecking a car window in hysteria. Imagine seeing disbelief on his face when he sees you and walks towards you. Imagine watching him unable to breathe properly (sound on and high for this scene). Imagine seeing life flood into him as soon as you touch him.

Jiwon plays such an important part here. Because Haein has NEVER seen Hyunwoo like this. He's a pretty calm nice, non-violent guy. She knows him to like mostly everyone and he rarely gets angry - he's pretty composed. But then what is this look of complete shattered pain on his face? With a mix of disbelief, bearing the heaviest heart on the planet? He's unrecognisable to her. She can't make sense of any of his actions. She's in utter shock hearing how hardly any air is making it's way into his lungs.

In his eyes is a look of crazed wilderness just tamed. He's out of his sense. Completely lost in the events that have just passed. Not believing that he can breathe. That it's okay. All is well in the world for now. She's unscathed.

'What's going on? Calm down.'

The way she asks him to calm down - touching his face - cause she just doesn't know what in the world could send him in such a frenzy to forget himself. Her asking him to calm down here is everything to me. She's really just saying I'm here okay. Calm down. Calm down, you can breathe. Tell me what happened and I can fix it.

'Even still, Are you crazy? How could you break the window with your bare hands? Look at this!'

I know it probably didn't register to him at that point. But he's hearing her being worried for him again when he thought her lost forever. Wouldn't that sound like music to his ears.

And her...god she's so worried for him. She's never seen him like this. She doesn't know what happened to make him like this. One she sees his absolutely broken bloody hand. Two she's seeing her husband absolutely crushed. She's so confused.

That is until his words hit her like a truck. I think she had an idea that he did it to save her but she didn't know he did it because he thought her dead. And that makes all the difference for her.

Also I thought it was very interesting to keep showing his injured hand clenching. I think it was a way to show how the physical pain still didn't hold a candle to his emotional turmoil. He CLENCHES that broken hand multiple times. I can't even begin to think when he actively registered the pain.

The need for constant touch to reaffirm that she indeed is there. The sitting down. The head on her hand. The heavy breathing. *Chef's kiss*

I love women comforting the man they love when he's broken. Gah! That hand on his face and hug. Her embracing him. Letting him cry all he wants. Giving him the reaffirmation he needs by placing her self as close to him as possible. Trying to tame and override his sense. The hand on the nape of his neck. The hand caressing his hair lovingly. And good god, the RINGS.

Also notice his breathing on her shoulder. He's trying to calm himself. Telling himself she's here. Hearing her say it's alright. Everything will be alright.

I'm sure they stay like this until the ambulance comes and asks them if they're hurt. Only then Haein must've gently tore him apart from her (hand on his face again ofcourse) and convinced/guided him to finally get treatment. I can just Imagine Hyunwoo completely dishevelled going, 'Huh *sniffs*......oh.......Right, my hand' and that's when the pain hits him.

Special mention to the hospital conversation when Haein asks him 'Will you sob like this if I die?' and he says truthfully, bashfully, embarrassed but without missing a beat 'Ofcourse.' He's hiding behind nothing. He truly meant to give up on himself after her.

For me this is also the night Haein starts to write her diary. Hyunwoo must've been sound asleep, amped up on painkillers and she must've had so much time to sit and admire him and write.

Gif credits: @wolha and @seawherethesunsets

[bunnylovesani]

You Belong To Me

Summary: You find out about your husband Spencer’s affair with another woman. It's safe to say you don’t have the reaction either of them were expecting.

Content warnings: infidelity, voyeurism, facetime sex, humiliation, p in v sex, creampie

WC: 2.3k

“Who is she?” You shudder with disgust as you stare into the sunken eyes of your husband. He looked almost unrecognisable to you now that you’d learned of his betrayal. 

“Her name’s Maeve. She’s a geneticist who’s been helping me with those headaches.” He sighs resolutely, knowing there was no point attempting to hide this from you. He didn’t mean to let things escalate but you’d been going through a rough patch and Maeve was just so understanding- she embodied all the things you lacked.

“Did you fuck her?” Your voice trembled with anger, goosebumps piercing through your thin blouse as you braced yourself for his response. 

“No. It was a purely emotional affair.” He stated a little too coldly. 

“Ah. And I suppose that makes it alright, does it?” You scoffed, getting up from the sofa you were curled up on with Spencer mere minutes earlier before he came out with his crushing confession. 

“Of course not. There are no excuses.” He looked down, not daring to meet your appalled gaze. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” 

“Spencer Reid speechless? I never thought I’d see the day.” You chuckle darkly, fidgeting with your wedding band. You loved him with all your heart, the day you said your vows was the happiest of your life- now that he’d broken his, you weren’t sure how much any of it really meant. 

“Were you going to leave me for her?” Against your best efforts, your voice broke with a pitiful crack that left Spencer with a pained expression on his handsome face. 

“No! No, I promise. I would never leave you.” He interjected, leaving no room for doubt. “She was just a distraction. You’re it for me.”

You sunk back into the plushy couch with a defeated sigh, unwelcome tears pricking your glossy eyes. 

“I don’t know, Spence…” You sniffled, beginning to slide the ring off your finger. 

“Baby.” He took your hands into his own as he dropped to his knees before you, still in his work suit. “I messed up. I messed up in the worst way possible. I’m a fucking idiot. But if you forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, my love. I’ll do anything.” 

An unfamiliar desperation tinged his voice that made your gut twist into an iron knot. He looked pathetic right now; kneeling on the floor with furrowed eyebrows as he pleaded to save his marriage. 

“I want you to call her.” You exhaled sharply after an excruciating moment of contemplation.

“You- what?” His forehead wrinkles deepened with shock. 

“You heard me. Call the bitch.” He gulped at your request and his eyes darted around frantically as he analysed every possible outcome.

“A video call. I want to see what the little homewrecker looks like.” You spat as he remained motionless, mouth agape and eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d rather get a divorce?” 

“I’ll do it.” He shook his head clumsily, rattled by the whole ordeal. 

“Wonderful. Come sit next to me and prop your phone up on the table.” You patted the spot besides you as Spencer stumbled over, still confused by your unpredictability. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Start dialling.” You snapped snarkily as he scrolled through his phone with shaky hands. Locating her contact, his fingers hovered above the call button. 

“Dr. Donovan, huh?” You peered over. “The one you told me had been helping you with a case?” 

“Y-yeah.” He whispered ashamedly. 

“Now this I have to see.” You murmured bitterly as the line began to ring. 

“Spence, hi! Wasn’t expecting you to call at this time.” The bubbly voice of the other woman rang out through his speakers. Your eyes zeroed in on the pixelated image of a brunette woman with a choppy fringe. 

“Why, do you guys have a set time for your little calls? When I’m sleeping, perhaps?” You popped into the frame, grinning wildly. 

“Oh. H-hello. Spencer, what’s going on?” She looked to him for help but he just sat there resignedly, knowing he couldn't appease you both. 

“So you’re the one who’s been helping herself to my husband.” You chuckled disingenously. “I thought you’d be a lot prettier.” You neared the phone to get a better look. “Really, baby? Her?” 

Spencer looked away, not daring to say a word to his wife or his lover.

“And you? You don’t have anything to say?” You opened the floor to Maeve.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks reddened as she stuttered, her nauseating voice ricocheting off the walls and worming its way into your ears. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk. Just watch.” You hissed in such a searing way that it made her feel threatened and inclined to obey. 

Spencer looked up at you in confusion but his doubts were swiftly answered when you loosened his tie and ripped off his collared shirt with a murderous lust. 

“Baby, what-“

“You’re not going to say a word.” You smoothly replied, voice barely audible. 

You observed his sad eyes, entrenched with light crows feet that worsened with the weight of stress and regret. You weren’t sure how you were even going to begin to process his betrayal but right now, you had to take care of her first. What better way to drive home the point that he was yours than to show her? 

Unbuckling his heavy leather belt with an urgency you’d never felt, you glanced over to make sure Maeve was watching. Sure enough, the demure woman couldn’t peel her eyes away from the sight unfolding before her. 

As you pulled down his pleated black trousers, you unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your skirt, throwing the articles of clothing behind you in a rushed hurl. Trailing your fingers down his boxers with your engagement ring flashing in front of the camera, you settled on his waistband. 

“Now, Spence. You’re going to fuck me in front of her.” 

His breath hitched as the unholy words left your smirking mouth. 

“And you-” You turned to face Maeve, who’s hand engulfed her mouth in panic. “You are going to watch it all.“

“No! You’re insane-“

“Or I’ll tell everyone at your work that you’re a home wrecking whore.” You dropped the threat like a hammer and it instantly silenced her.

“That’s what I thought.” 

A twisted grin consumed your face as you looked back at Spencer, who licked his lips at the sight before him- his wife eagerly spread open on the couch, waiting to be filled up. You weren’t sure whether it was an anxious tick or a sign of arousal and frankly, you didn’t care. 

“Show me how sorry you are.” You breathed heavily as you hooked your black lace panties and pulled them to the side.

Needing no further initiative, Spencer lowered his boxers and let his heavy cock spring free from its confines. Despite sex being the last thing on his mind, he couldn’t help the natural reaction his body had to you- it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it in the last 5 years of your marriage, the sight of you split open for him was always enough to bring him crumbling to his knees. 

Shuffling closer, he let a long string of spit dribble down to your pussy before smearing it around with his painfully swollen tip. He was in a state of delirium and shock as his body moved as though it weren't his own- whatever the consequences, he knew he couldn't lose you.

“You see that, Maeve?” You cocked your head to the side. “That’s all mine.” 

You moaned shakily as he pushed himself in, coating his shaft in your wetness. 

“Isn’t that right, baby? Tell her.” You ordered your husband as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing against it to go even deeper. 

“That’s right.” He groaned as he plunged his cock in as deep as it could go, his skin flush against yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” You gazed up at him, running your fingers through his messy curls. 

“You, baby. I belong to you.” He whispers before turning to face the camera. “I belong to her. She owns me.” 

Maeve let out a short huff of disbelief, wanting to look away but struggling. 

“Harder.” You choked out a whisper as your body trembled under his touch, longing for more, aching to possess and to be possessed. 

His thrusts sped up in response, his hips smacking against yours fervently as you clawed at his back like a wounded animal. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whined as he took you by the face with both hands, forcing you to look clearly at him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Keep going.” You whispered frantically- the feeling of being perfectly stuffed paired with your volatile emotional state left you teetering on the edge of collapse. 

“She means nothing to me.” He grunted between thrusts and you bore a wide toothy grin at the capriciously sweet words. Real or not, you knew they had to hurt her- and that brought you a sadistic amount of pleasure. 

“What were you thinking going for her?” You tutted as he pounded into you like it was the last time, creamy arousal glistening in the dimly lit lounge. “I’m so much better than her. She’s so ugly. Isn’t she, Spence?” 

“Y-yes.” He whimpered. “She’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.” 

Satisfied enough with his taunting, you pushed him back with a bitter hand against his chest and climbed onto his lap with increasing desperation. 

“Bet you wish you could ride him like this, don’t you?” You sneered as you stroked his wet cock with a couple squelchy pumps. “But you never will. This dick is all mine.” 

You lowered yourself onto him, adjusting to his size with breathy moans as he threw his head back in deluge. Bouncing on it with more force than usual, you looked back to observe Maeve’s horrified face glowing on the screen. 

“You got that, bitch?” You jeered mockingly as you reached for his phone and flipped the camera to show Spencer’s exasperated face. “My husband, my dick.” 

With your final act of aggression, you hung up the call and threw the phone behind you. You were fairly confident she wouldn’t be inserting herself into your marriage again any time soon. 

“What the hell-” Spencer’s croaky voice rang out in intervals as you continued riding him with stomach-churning speed. “was that?”

“I was reminding you who you’re married to.” You halted for a moment to catch your breath. “You seem to have forgotten.”

His firm, calloused hands snaked their way around your hips as he dug his fingernails into your flesh, bringing you closer to him. 

“I'll never make that mistake again.” He declared solemnly, brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. “Do you forgive me, my love?”

Your limbs went numb and you felt paralysed at the thought. How could you ever forgive such an abuse of trust? 

Spencer firmly grabbed you by the jaw before trailing his hand to the nape of your neck. You wanted to wriggle out of his grasp but he guided your head to rest over his shoulder as he settled his touch on the small of your back. 

“I don’t know…” You slumped into him, feeling immobilised as you murmured mindlessly. 

He suddenly grabbed your ass and roughly spread it apart to allow easier access to your core- he thrust up into your weeping pussy with a force that had you huffing out wordless squeaks. He set a ruthless tempo, hammering into you as your gushing arousal dripped down his thighs. 

“If I’m going to let that little stunt you just pulled slide-“ He growled with a renewed ferocity. “then you’re going to suck it up and forgive me too.” 

Whining, you smacked the side of his bicep in protest but the way he was fucking your brains out left you unable to speak. 

“I don’t wanna hear it baby.” He kissed your temple sloppily as he patted your hair, smoothing it down while he massaged your insides. “You’re meant for me and I’m meant for you. We’re perfectly fucked up for each other.”

“Mmph-“ You moaned into his shoulder, drool dribbling down his skin as you bit into it. 

“I’m never letting you go.” He sped up as his force and aggression grew, leaving bruises in the shape of fingertips littered along your hips and ass. 

With one final thrust, you came undone - squeezing his cock so tight in the process that he couldn’t help but fill you up to the brim with his cum. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, creamy wetness pouring out of you as he pulled your sweaty bodies apart. 

“Okay.” You sighed. “I forgive you.” 

Spencer abruptly sat up as the precious words spilled from your swollen lips. “You mean it?” He trembled hopefully, melting expression tugging at your heartstrings. 

“Only if you swear to me it’ll never happen again.” You wagged your finger at him as he leapt onto you unexpectedly.

“Never! Never, baby, I swear.” He planted grateful kisses up and down your body as you indulged in a reluctant smile. “It’s only you. You are the only one for me. Now and for the rest of my life.” 

You could tell by his adoring gaze that he meant every word. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled into a healing embrace. He was allowed to make one mistake, you loved him enough to let it slide. And if resentment ever crept up on you, you could always fondly recall that drunken night with Agent Morgan. Who said married couples weren’t allowed a few secrets?

[luvrrszn]

mean

REMUS LUPIN x FEM READER

summary full moon turns your remus into someone unrecognisable

warnings angst probably, probably inaccurate hp facts, bad writing, not proofread, probably a piece of trash i just needed it out of my drafts lol

a/n it has been SO long since i've written for hp so it's probably full of inaccuracies 😭 take everything with a grain of salt and PLEASE send in more requests ily

masterlist

james has a shit-eating grin on his face when you walk in.

“oh, bloody hell. what is it now?” you groan as you flop onto your boyfriend's, remus's, bed.

"wait till you see what pads did to snape's robes." james reveals, unable to contain his grin.

"oh c'mon, jamie. when are you guys gonna get tired of picking on him? you guys are gonna get in serious trouble one day, i'm tellin ya." you sigh as you try to find a comfortable position to sit in.

just then, the door swings open to reveal sirius and your beloved boyfriend, remus. sirius has his usual smirk, while remus looks a little more down than usual. you check the date on the calendar next to his bed and realises it's almost full moon.

he takes off his shoes and slides into his bed next to you. you snuggle up next to him, and he rests an arm around your shoulder.

"should we go to hogsmeade this weekend?" james suggests, and you nod, saying animatedly, "yes please. i need new quills, and i'd like to pop by honeydukes."

usually, remus chides you for the sheer amount of sugar you consume. this time, he remains silent. this is your first clue that something's wrong.

while james and sirius argue over nothing, you turn to face remus, eye full of concern. you ask, "remmy, are you okay? you've barely said a word all day."

"i'm fine," he replies. you're left puzzled, by the lack of endearment. but you decide not to push any further, turning your attention back to the book you had just picked off his nightstand.

"is that my book? why are you always touching my things?" remus snatches the book out of your hands, only to receive perplexed glances from james and sirius.

"oi, loosen up, moony. it's just a book, don't be mean." james stands up for you. so does sirius, saying, "yeah moony, don't be an arse."

remus just ignores them.

an hour passes, and so does about four different conversation between james, sirius and you. remus has barely spoken a word, and you're getting more and more concerned by the second.

"remmy, are you sure you're okay? are you feeling unwell?" you ask, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

"i'm fine, stop worrying," he says, curt. you're a bit shocked, by the tone he's taken with you and the way he barely looks at you.

"oh, merlin. do you ever shut up? all you do is talk and talk and talk. will you leave me alone for one bloody second?" remus snaps at you.

james and sirius immediately stop talking, and stare at remus in shock. remus worships the ground you walk on, never in a million years would they imagine him talking to you like this.

you're equally shocked yourself. you knew remus had a short temper around full moon, but his anger was never, never, directed towards you.

you get up from the bed and it takes everything for you to not cry in front of your friends. you say softly, "i think i'm going to go back to my room. goodnight, guys."

"dove, wait," remus calls out, his voice apologetic.

you pretend you don't hear him and walk out of the door, not looking back once.

—

when you push open the door to your dorm room, with tears streaming down your face, lily immediately beckons you over to her bed.

"oh, dear. what happened now?" she asks gently, holding you in her arms as she strokes your hair.

"boys are assholes." you grumble.

"tell me something i don't know." lily chuckles.

she holds you as you cry. she silently vows to not let remus near you any time in the next few weeks.

—

and just as she promised herself she would, lily had you surrounded with friends for the next few weeks, making it impossible for remus to reach you, or for you to reach him.

full moon had come and gone, and it killed you to know that you weren't there for remus while he went through it.

you weren't left to dwell on it for long, with all your friends always surrounding you, keeping you occupied.

remus, however, was left to stress over the fact that he hadn't been able to make it up to you, and not for a lack of trying. with lily and your friends around you round the clock, he never had an opportunity to approach you without death glares from four different girls.

his opportunity arises when you fall off your broom while playing quidditch.

—

"madam pomfrey, i'm fine, please, let me go back o—" you plead, only to be cut off.

"nonsense, dear. you need to be kept for observation. i won't have you go back out to play." she shakes her head, and disappears to tend to another student.

the door creaks open, and you see a familiar face poke in.

your boyfriend, whom you haven't spoken to in three weeks.

he has a sheepish look on his face as he sits down on the chair next to the bed you're lying on.

"dove, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have snapped at you like that, especially not in front of our friends. i was stressed, but it's still no excuse for the way i treated you. i hope you can forgive me." he says, gently taking your hand in his.

you let out a sigh, saying, "it was really mean, remmy."

"i know, i know, dove. and i'm so, so sorry. i should have never spoken to you that way. I'll never speak to you like that ever again, swear. else you can chop my balls off, i swear." he replies, giving you a small smile.

"fine, remmy. but you're an absolute arse, i hope you know that."

"i promise you i do." he replies as he presses a kiss into your hair.

[princessbrunette]

https://www.tumblr.com/princessbrunette/766588545290928128/alrigjt-quick-before-i-lose-motivation-request-s4

Ok first of all, I hope kitty!reader is ok!!!

well!!!!!! spoilers below the cut real quick

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

guys this is a safe space ok. in the princessbrunette universe, jj was stabbed but he survived. he falls back, holding his wound and essentially bleeding out after kitty grabs the knife — jumping on top of groff and stabbing him repeatedly until he’s unrecognisable. she’s never killed anyone, let alone like this — but after everything he’d done, and now the threat of him taking her jj away — she just snapped. think that one scene of ellie in tlou1 when she only stops stabbing that creep when she gets pulled off by joel.

in this case, jj — coughing and spluttering pulls her off, taking her bloody face in his hands.

“hey,” he coughs. “you got him. you got ‘im. take a breather i’m,” he coughs once more. “i’m okay.” he promises, but sounds far from it.

she can only stare at his growing wound, eyes wide and filled with traumatised tears when the rest of the group arrive, immediately acting and yanking the two of them apart to get to jj. kitty stares down at the body she disfigured, looking up to see rafe staring at the same thing as the group frantically patch up the blonde to the best of their abilities, yelling over eachother to make plans of an escape.

“you do that?” rafe drawls, unreadable.

she shudders, mouth opening to speak but nothing coming out. he softens slightly, reluctantly.

“did what you had to do, alright?” he eyes her, before busying himself with the team as they hoist jj onto his feet to carry him away.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

because of brock

brock boeser x f!reader

summary: a breakup because of brock

warnings: swearing, hints of a slightly toxic relationship/lack of trust between two people, hints of unrecognised emotional infidelity, fluff, awkwardness

word count: 8.7k

Petey was first to knock – twenty minutes early as per usual. Usually you’d invite him in, sit him down, pour him and drink and carry on setting things up for everyone else; he’d offer a hand, maybe help lay the table. Not this time.

This time you threw the door open on your way to the kitchen, not even sparing a second to greet him, before rushing into the kitchen, the beeping of the oven signalling something was ready, but you couldn’t of the life of you remember what. You hadn’t wiped the table, put the tablecloth on, tidied the living room (or moved the mess from the living room into your room to at least make it look more presentable), got the drinks out, or even finished cooking everything.

And Petey took all of that in from where he’d stepped into your apartment, a bottle of wine securely in his hands, and sporting a slight wince upon hearing the swearing and clanging from the kitchen area. He quickly placed the wine on the table, shrugging his coat off – and for the first time ever, he found you accepting his offer for help, a rather frazzled look about you.

It was only after he’d got the drinks out of the fridge, wiped the table, put the tablecloth down, and double-counted the placemats that he knew that slightly frazzled look was for a reason. You hadn’t really uttered a word since he’d walked in, just a simple greeting and multiple thank you’s for his help. You hadn’t really smiled once, and you’d not even attempted small talk like you usually would.

You’d just kept quiet, throwing things in and out of the oven, eyes anxiously darting to the clock above the door.

Elias was a little hesitant at asking. There was something tingling in the back of his head, like he knew what you were about to say, and he wasn’t so sure if it would be okay to bring it up so close to everyone arriving if you got upset. He was also less-prepped on how to look after you. That had always fallen to Brock, or at least, it used to be.

He eyed you in the kitchen where you’d taken to stacking up the right number of plates, hair falling out of a braid, before carefully stepping closer, “Where’s Noah tonight?” He asked tentatively.

Elias almost winced at the cut-up glance you wore, swallowing hard and immediately avoiding looking at him. He could tell you were trying not to act too hurt, or maybe it was simply practice before you had to perform this facade in front of everyone else. Your hands were still busy, and he heard you sigh a little, “We broke up.” Was all you said, shooting a curious glance in his direction, probably to gauge his reaction.

And because Elias had suspected that answer, his face didn’t really tell a tale of shock. His brows were raised a little, but he was clearly sympathetic, offering a nod of understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, more hair falling out of your braid. 

Elias nodded again, brain itching. You were good at acting like you were fine, but this was a new level of nonchalance – even for you.You’d clearly been a little flustered in the time he’d spent helping you set up, and nearly every year you stressed a little playing host, he’d beared witness to it time and time again; there was no other real evidence you were too affected by it – not like how he’d initially predicted.

There were no teary eyes, achy throats or raspy voices that suggested you were holding back tears. Your body language didn’t give anything away.

“When did you guys break up?” He found himself asking, more out of his own curiosity.

He knew you well, which was why he found there was something a little irksome about the entire thing.

You didn’t seem to care that he’d pried after you’d said you didn’t want to talk about it, because there was barely a second’s hesitation before you were answering him, “About two months ago, I think.”

Elias blinked. Two months? You think? He could have sworn last week you’d made a comment about Noah playing golf, which must have meant…

“Does Brock know?” He frowned, trying to work out the mental maths of the tangled timelines.

Brock hadn’t said anything about it if he knew. In fact, he’d been pretty miserable for a while, now that Elias was thinking about it, which meant–

“No.” 

Oh. Oh.

“You’re the only person that knows.” You admitted shyly, rubbing a hand against the back of your neck as you pressed your lips into a tight line, “I’m just trying to sort some things out, first. But please don’t mention anything, I want to be the one to tell people.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

You offered him a rather relieved smile, “Thanks.” You could tell Elias had about a hundred other questions he was dying to get the answers to, but his reserved smile let you know he respected your wishes. 

That, and the insinuation behind your words had been pretty clear – at least it would have been to Elias. To anyone else, maybe not so much.

***

Elias wasn’t an idiot, and he knew you didn’t take him as one, but it didn’t exactly take a genius to realise that you’d been avoiding Brock all night. The poor guy had been on edge since he walked into the apartment, probably expecting Noah to jump out from behind the door and send him glares all night, because that’s what had happened almost every time the two of them entered the same room within the last two years. 

You got quiet and kept a careful eye on Noah, yet remained ready to jump to Brock’s defence if Noah did end up being provoked in some way; Brock tried to stay out of it all, but it was kind of difficult when Noah kept making the issue about Brock, even if he hadn’t done anything worthy of the attention. And in all honesty, it had Elias wondering why you ever put up with Noah in the first place; even when it was you and Noah, it had always been you and Brock.

Yet, even after having broken up with Noah, you maintained that ten-feet-apart-unspoken-notion, and Elias had to applaud your dedication to keeping up appearances.

And he, ever the observer, could feel the tension get a little thicker with every minute that went by when some brave soul chickened out of bringing up the elephant in the room. He thought it was bad when everyone seemed to stall after greeting you at the door, having got used to Noah being at your hip, but things had gone from bad to worse after the food, and now it felt like the room was stifling with all the tension.

He supposed he should stay out of it, but he kept catching you and Brock share glances out of the corner of his eye, and each time you broke eye contact, he could practically feel Brock deflate next to him – and that was about as much as he could take before he turned to Quinn on his other side, the Captain quietly sipping on his drink and content to listen to others conversations.

He nudged him, and Quinn shot him a befuddled look before leaning closer, “Ask about Noah.” Elias whispered subtly, purposefully looking straight across the room to avoid arousing your suspicion.

Quinn seemed to think about it for a second, and Elias glanced back, only to be faced with raised eyebrows, and an ‘is this really what i think it is?’ look written on his face. Elias nodded, and Quinn sat up a little straighter, shooting a pointed stare at Brock’s side profile.

It took Elias' meaningful shake of his head for Quinn to instantly clear his throat and lean closer to you, “Hey, where’s Noah tonight?” 

His voice was quiet, a hushed murmur, but because of the close proximity Quinn had with Brock, the latter heard it perfectly. And Elias feigned composure, choosing to glue his eyes to Brock like he had no part in Quinn’s question – but even without actually looking at you, he could feel the temporary heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He just scratched his nose.

Brock on the other hand, seemed to still, his knuckles going a little white against the glass he’d clutched in his hand. And like Elias, he was subtle about his interest in the conversation, but he might have held his breath, and he might have tuned out everything else in a bid to make out your response.

If Noah wasn’t here, from Brock’s perspective, that meant he could actually talk to you. 

“Um…” He could sense you cringe at the question, and his brows furrowed a little. It wasn’t like you to hesitate, “In Atlanta.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his neck snapped to look at you. You were still giving Quinn your full attention, but almost like you could sense his piercing stare, your concentration wavered, slipping to him. And, for the life of him, Brock could not get a read on you. It was like your eyes were trying to tell him something, but the rest of your face seemed to remain neutral – completely unbothered by the fact that your boyfriend (who refused to travel for work) was not only in another country, but on the opposite side of the continent, almost.

Then, in the blink of an eye, you turned back to Quinn.

Brock didn’t move an inch, anticipation curling up his spine uncomfortably. 

Quinn seemed to follow his train of thought, though, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was an automatic, “How come?”

Brock could have sworn the corners of your mouth turned up fractionally. He could have sworn you just didn’t give a shit. 

“We broke up.” You shrugged simply.

If he’d had a mouthful of his drink, he would’ve spat it out. If he’d been standing, he’d have had to sit down, and he could have sworn his heart dropped to his feet all within a second. He felt warm, maybe a little too hot for comfort, and he had to take a swig of his drink to ease his dry mouth.

Quinn carried on, “Why?” Almost tumbled out of his mouth, perhaps in a manner that might have been viewed as a little insensitive, something he seemed to catch onto, but before he could even splutter an apology, you were already talking.

And Brock wanted to turn up the volume of your voice so he wouldn’t risk missing a single breath, pause or word of what you were about to say. He wanted to record it, so he could listen to it later and know he wasn’t making it all up in his head.

But when your eyes slid over to him for a mere millisecond, he almost fell on Elias. When someone asks why you broke up with your partner, you don’t look at the person who seemed to accidentally cause more arguments and tensions than ever recorded in your personal history. You don’t look at the person that probably understood you better than anyone else you’d ever met.

Because if you did, that meant something.

It meant it hadn’t been in Brock’s head: the soft looks when no one was looking; the gentle touches. It started out as a way to compensate for the way Noah seemed to zero in on your friendship and forbid either of you talking to each other in front of him. The hours you used to spend in each other’s company was reduced to almost nothing, and Brock had had to live through two years of that. Well…there were a few exceptions to that in regards to personal things – you’d actually moved in with him for a bit then.

But Brock had been missing you for two whole years, it didn’t matter that you had the same friends or saw each other every couple of weeks. He’d taken a step back, for your sake, but it had only made things worse.

And now you’d thrown him a glance.

“Just wanted different things.” 

Brock took a sip of his drink in an attempt to stop himself from scoffing at your blatant lie. It was written all over your face plain as day. Your shoulders were a little tense, and you could no longer look at Quinn for more than three seconds at a time before the uncomfortable-ness seemed to prick you in the temples.

And Brock knew that without you even saying anything.

Quinn nodded out of the corner of Brock’s eye, accepting the answer and clearly not wanting to pry for fear of making the entire situation more awkward.

And through the pounding heart and racing thoughts, Brock took a deep breath, turning to Elias only to see the blonde smirking at him from over the top of his glass. He didn’t have it in him to roll his eyes or pull a face at his friend, so he pushed himself out of his chair and made for the kitchen, glass empty.

Only, when he pulled open the door to the fridge, there was nothing left of what he had been drinking. For some reason, as he looked around at everything else on offer, he couldn’t pick. He was reading labels – familiar ones, too, ones that he liked – and he couldn’t decide which one he should settle for because he couldn’t have what he’d been drinking the entire night. He only wanted his drink, and all the other options were just becoming even less desirable by the second.

He stared at the contents a little while longer, the cold from the open door beginning to set a chill in his bones, before swallowing and shutting it without another thought. He could settle for lemonade or water or something. He turned to the sink, rinsing out his glass and picking the tea towel off the oven door like it was second nature, and it wasn’t until a glass was placed down on the kitchen island behind him that he was made aware he wasn’t alone.

His chest seemed to swell at seeing you awkwardly standing on the other side of the counter, looking rather as if you were about to say something. Your palm came down to rest against the cold granite, and you swung your eyes to the fridge, sighing and wandering over to it.

Brock turned back to the sink, keeping an eye on you in his peripheral vision. He almost smiled at the fact that you seemed to hesitate choosing something too, before shutting the door and turning to the bottle of wine already on the counter, hastily filling up a clean glass.

There was a strange tension between the two of you; not knowing what to say to each other because there was so much to say, but there were people in the other room, and it was all rather exhausting. You inhaled, trying to ease the familiar tightness in your chest that always seemed to appear when you looked at Brock.

He was wearing a pale blue button down with dark jeans, blonde hair swept back using his hands. He had his back to you, and you took a swig of wine to ease your nerves. 

It was as you placed the glass back on the counter, unconsciously twiddling your necklace that he turned around, leaning against the sink, towel thrown over his shoulder with a clean and dry glass in his hand.

He was looking at you, and you felt your lips twitch into a smile – awkward, but real – that disappeared almost as quickly as you’d done it. He didn’t echo the same sentiment, instead choosing to furrow his brows, clenching his jaw and zipping his eyes into the living room.

“Why did you break up with Noah?” He asked after a quiet moment, intently fixing his gaze on you as you inhaled, slightly caught off guard with the upfront question.

You’d expected him to ask it eventually, but this was the first time you’d had real privacy in ages. A little icebreaker wouldn’t have hurt. But now wasn’t really a time to joke or dance around it, either.

You just sighed, “Wanted different things.” It was the answer you’d given earlier – not a lie, exactly, but not the entire truth. And judging from the way Brock seemed to immediately leave after you’d told that to Quinn, he must have seen through it.

He blinked, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it, “Like what?” He challenged, folding the tea towel and putting it on the side, glass quickly following as he took a seat at the island, facing you.

The close proximity almost instinctively had you wanting to look over your shoulder to check if Noah was watching from somewhere, but then that feeling of paranoia seemed to dissolve. The knot in your chest loosened, and you felt your shoulders drop slightly. 

Part of the reason you’d held off telling people – Brock specifically – was that the truth would just invite even more questions. Maybe even arguments: you dated Noah for two years and when a couple has been together for a certain period of time, certain things are expected, and when that opportunity presents itself, sometimes the wrong questions are answered.

But you held your nerve, looking straight into Brock’s eyes as you hesitated a little. You’d never uttered the words to anyone other than your best friend and your parents.

“He proposed, actually.” You muttered, immediately biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Brock carefully.

It felt like a relief to admit it out loud, a load off your shoulders. Speaking about it made it true, and you felt less trapped because of it. Noah made you feel trapped, and a lack of Noah meant a lack of that claustrophobia. 

Brock seemed to freeze, his mouth parting in shock and any previous scepticism completely erased; his brows were furrowed, and he looked away from you, processing. One hand ran through his hair, and then, almost as if to check, his attention went straight to your left hand. At the noticeable blank space on your finger, he seemed to gain the courage to look at you again.

There was confusion there, but he seemed incapable of speaking.

“It’s kind of weird because I never actually knew what I was going to say when I thought about it as a hypothetical situation, but then he put the box on the restaurant table and people were watching, and it was the easiest and hardest ‘no’ I’ve ever had to say.” You breathed, clenching your jaw and trying to block out the look of betrayal on Noah’s face that had etched itself in your head – you couldn’t quite escape it yet. “And now he’s in Atlanta because he thought that it would make sense to propose and then make me move to another country because he got a promotion. Guess he hadn’t considered me not wanting to marry him.” You laughed, despite yourself, it quickly dying when the guilt came flooding in again.

You’d loved Noah, but it had changed towards the end – you both seemed to change, and a part of you was still mourning the future you thought you’d have had when you started dating.

It was funny how things changed, because you were pretty certain you were more in love with the blonde in your kitchen than you ever were with Noah, and it was just a shame that it took the threat of moving to Atlanta and marrying someone very much not him that made you realise it.

A man proposes, and the first thing you think about is leaving Brock, and suddenly the answer is just as clear as day. It had crept upon you slowly, harmlessly at first (a simple crush), until it had evolved into this loud, obnoxious thing that you couldn’t ignore.

You’d planned on breaking up with Noah anyway, it was starting to fizzle out for the both of you, only Noah’s reaction had been to propose. That had always been the difference.

“He proposed in public?” Brock asked, tone a little firmer, and when you quickly glanced at him there was some quiet rage on the planes of his face.

That had been the difference between Brock and Noah. Noah thought he knew you, but Brock was the one who actually did.

You nodded.

Brock scoffed, shaking his head, “He always was a dick.”

And you didn’t have the heart to disagree. You kept quiet, focusing on a spot on the granite work surface and absentmindedly taking a sip of your wine.

Brock seemed to take in your silence, looking at you closely. He hadn’t been able to get a read on you in front of everyone – you were always a little too good at keeping up appearances for the sake of not worrying others – the only difference was you seemed to unconsciously zone out of it when you were with him. Your eyes got softer, more vulnerable, and you seemed to unwind – like you knew you didn’t have to worry about being judged, or watched, or anything else.

It was always just you and Brock.

And that’s what was happening now: your hair fell in front of your face as you followed the wine glass with your eyes, and you didn’t make a move to tuck it behind your ear. Your eyes were glossy, not with unshed tears, but emotion, and you had bags under your eyes, probably from a lack of proper sleep. Brock supposed this dinner wasn’t helping matters either, especially not if he walked in through the front door to see Elias watching you with concern as you avoided everyone. It wasn’t just him. 

You lifted your head, eyes flitting to him briefly. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, feeling himself lean towards you. 

He wanted you to be okay, but it was a big ask given the circumstances. You nodded, but it did nothing to quell the rising urge to wrap you in his arms, have you touch him without having to worry about that shitty ex of yours. 

Selfishly, he didn’t want to let go if he gave into that urge, but, as usual, when it came to you, you were more important than his own silly little aches and yearns. He’d mastered patience at the expense of his own happiness when it came to you, and he could wait longer – that was a no-brainer.

But the nodding wasn’t comforting: you’d nodded when he’d asked you that before and been crying. It was like an automatic ‘I’m fine’ was just programmed into you, and he didn’t even think you were sure why you did it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, wanting, needing you to give him something else other than a nod.

“Yeah.” You breathed, hands a little clammy at the way he seemed to stare right into your soul, “It’s just…I thought I’d be more affected by it, but I-I’d already detached myself because I was going to break up with him anyway.” You trailed off, voice getting quieter as though your admission was taboo. 

Both of Brock’s hands seemed to lose sense as they fell to the counter, his arms crossing and then uncrossing.

It was instantaneous, the way he seemed to flush, his heart hammering at his ribcage at the insinuation of what you were saying. 

“You were?” He echoed, not quite believing it. Between the past few months, and everything you’d told and done this evening, he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t just imagining things – everything that had happened was for a reason, “How long had you been thinking about breaking up with him?”

“A while.” Then, “It hadn’t felt right since the summer, and I’ve had, like, two months to think about it so–”

“You broke up two months ago?” 

The look on Brock’s face almost floored you. Somehow it had you regretting ever not telling him in the first place, even despite knowing it was for the better. There were so many emotions swimming in his eyes, but the only one you could pick out was upset.

It felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Apart from family, only Lauren knows.” You immediately began to backpedal, wanting to wipe the expression off his face as soon as you could: you had to make him realise. You weren’t quite ready to act on it, but you needed him to know, “I had to figure some stuff out before I told you. Noah had to move out and I changed the lease, and I needed to think things over.”

His face relaxed, before he raised a brow, something akin to an apprehensive understanding melting on his face, as though he was hesitant to take it for what you meant, “What things?”

You swallowed, nerves tingling in your chest. You inhaled, trying to build up your courage, “You things.”

He opened his mouth, leaning back as though the deliverance of your words knocked him backwards, but no words came out. And you didn’t quite have the bravery to keep looking at him when he didn’t know what to say, so you turned your back, reaching to fill up your wine glass again. 

You spun back around, only to face a still-dumbfounded Brock, and a hesitant Elias hovering by the doorway. You could tell from the way he still had a hand on the door and his frantic eyes as they hovered between you and Brock, that he instantly sensed he’d just walked in on something.

But you refused to look at Brock, mostly just because you didn’t know what you’d do if it turned out he was looking at you with distaste. In fact, you tried to avoid his eyes, though you could feel them piercing you with some desperation – but he didn’t say or indicate anything as you made your way back around the island, closer to the door and to Elias.

You tried a smile, though from the way the Swede seemed to switch his gaze from you to Brock behind you, with a little hardness, you figured it didn’t perform as you wanted. But you were glad for the interruption, “You coming in for a refill?” You asked, meeting him at the door.

He shook his head, dragging his attention back to you with a sorry smile, “No, I just came to say goodnight. Me, Quinn…and Brock are gonna go now. It’s getting pretty late.”

Brock shook his head from behind you, trying to catch Elias’s attention. He knew his friend was only making an excuse for him because you had looked a little shaken when he walked in, but you both had, and the last thing he wanted was to leave after that faint admission of some kind of non-platonic feelings. It had taken a lot in you, he could tell.

Not just the admission, but breaking up with Noah. And all Brock wanted was to sit you down and talk about it, not just for his own clarification, but because you needed to hear it from him, too.

Yet, with the stern glare Elias was pinning him over your head as the two of you hugged briefly in parting, he knew he didn’t have a choice. 

He stood next to Elias, who kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt like a parent and their kid with a tendency to go wandering off, but it was for different reasons. It seemed once Elias and Quinn had announced that the three of them were leaving, almost everyone else had taken inspiration, so now there was a queue to the door and you, and Brock was seemingly at the back.

He wanted to say goodbye, but he had a gut feeling that he was about to be dragged out of the door before he could cause any more damage, though all he’d ever done was just show his face in these kinds of situations (he would willingly admit that sometimes he had to ask around to actually see if you were going in the first place; if you were, it was a no-brainer, but he had on occasion turned an invite down purely because you were busy).

The entire situation was frustrating him, and the irony in that wasn’t lost on him, especially because when he walked through the door earlier, this wasn’t the outcome he’d ever anticipated. 

Elias moved his hand from his shirt to Brock’s bicep, squeezing to get his attention, “What happened in there?”

Brock blinked, his eyes briefly flickering to Elias’s, purely just to gauge his reaction, before flipping back to you – he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you since you said The Thing that just about took his breath away and simultaneously gave him oxygen to cure the breathlessness – certain Elias wasn’t too pissed at him, “Noah proposed.” He breathed, able to catch the way Elias’s mouth fell in shock out of the corner of his eye, “And she said no, but it turns out she was gonna end it with him before that.” His mind seemed to run through everything you said, as it had been, your voice playing on loop like a scratchy record player in the back of his mind, and he huffed a conflicted breath. 

It was something to know you returned a fraction of what he felt for you, but it was another thing to know that he was part of the reason you said no. 

Did it make him a homewrecker? A third party? 

Is this the price of his own happiness? The guilt?

“‘Cause of me.” He finished, finally turning back to Elias with knitted brows.

The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Elias clearly digesting everything. Quinn was oblivious, yawning off to the side.

“You two never…” Elias trailed off, widening his eyes pointedly, and Brock scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fuck no. You really think either of us would–”

“It’s not your fault, then.” Elias shrugged, ignoring Brock’s words, “It’s neither of your faults, you know that, right?”

Brock breathed. Elias was a pretty cheeky guy, his comments were ruthless but they never had a single ounce of malice, yet there was something about the way he so effortlessly forewent that kind of reaction and chose to reassure Brock that had him nodding, “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Could tell. Thought you were going to shit yoursel–Hi.” Elias coughed and spluttered, his attention no longer on Brock as he fought to change his words before you caught onto what they’d been talking about.

He turned to look at you, accidentally misjudging the distance, because as he turned, his shoulder bumped yours gently, and you instinctively looked up at the contact, both of you just caught for a split second. 

Brock clenched his jaw at your thinly veiled apprehension at having to face him again: you were twisting the rings on your fingers, and you inhaled sharply – awkwardly – when he turned to you.

You’d never done that before with him. 

And Brock was stunned, not because you were literally stealing the air out of his lungs every time he looked at you (you were breathtaking – always were, always had been), but because that was the first time you’d touched and he felt the tingle from where you’d brushed him. The skin under his shirt seemed to burn at it.

You were so magnetic sometimes that it rendered him speechless.

And that was all happening inside him when you were almost instantly turning to Elias, brushing off the contact like nothing had just occurred. Brock felt his hand go to touch the area you’d bumped into, holding onto his bicep with wonder.

When had Elias dropped his hand?

He sucked in a breath, needing the oxygen in his head before he lost it completely. Before he could overthink it, he tilted his head in your direction, the action drawing you from where you’d been lightly conversing with Elias again (since when were you two such good friends?), “I…” He started, suddenly faltering when Elias sent him a sharp look – one so severe that Brock felt Quinn tune back in, “I had a really good time tonight.”

It wasn’t really the time or the place. Not with all the people and not with so little time.

Something seemed to fall on your face, and Brock hated that it was because of him. He hated himself because of it. The way you immediately fixed it – a small falter in character for the sake of everyone else, and you went back to pretending.

“Good, I’m glad.” You nodded, forcing a smile, and he echoed the sentiment.

He felt it drop, though, his face almost morphing into a sorry frown, if that was even a thing. 

“I’ll talk to you later.” He winced at himself, feeling Quinn begin to pull him towards the door this time, Elias quickly jumping in to save the situation and what little confidence Brock had in his social skills. 

It was only when all three of them had made it outside, drowned in complete silence the entire way down the steps to the door of the building, that Quinn bit the bullet, “What was that car crash I just witnessed back there?” He laughed in disbelief, looking between Brock and Elias for an answer.

Brock’s chest was aching too much to reply, so Elias took the liberty of explaining it, a small smile on his face, “That was the beginning of Brock and—”

Quinn’s brows shot up his forehead, almost going missing under his hair, “Shut the front door.” His jaw dropped, turning to Brock for confirmation.

All he got was a tight-lipped line that resembled more of a grimace.

“I mean, I’m happy for you, man, and because I’m your friend, I feel like it’s my responsibility to also point out the fact that she just broke up with her boyfriend of two years.” Quinn seemed rather uncomfortable at throwing the reminder out there into the open, cringing when Brock seemed to glance at the floor, eyes glazed over, “Is she ready for that?”

Brock swallowed, looking to Elias for guidance. Every word Quinn said was true. And when the words were spoken out loud, the entire thing suddenly seemed futile. 

What was he thinking? A person didn’t just get over something like that immediately–Except…

“Actually she broke up with Noah two months ago.” Elias muttered, “Because of Brock.”

Quinn stopped walking, causing the blondes to halt, the three of them crowing the pavement, “Oh.” He breathed, “Shit.”

Elias threw a concerned glance towards Brock at his silence. It never did him good if he was living in his own head, “Noah also proposed and she said no.”

“Double-shit.” 

“Yeah.” Brock answered numbly, head twisting back to your apartment building.

They hadn’t walked far, barely one block, but he could see the window to your apartment, your shadowy figure walking past the window. He inhaled, the exhale fogging up the air around him.

He didn’t have to be looking at Elias and Quinn to know they were sharing similar glances, and he turned back to them, catching their sombre looks red-handed. He shook his head, sighing. He took a step forward, intending to continue their walk to the Uber spot, but something hit him in the chest. It was a gloved hand, and he followed the owner to Elias.

“Yeah?” He asked cautiously.

“You forgot your scarf.” Elias said.

Brock frowned. He didn’t think he’d come wearing a sca–Oh.

He looked to Quinn, who was smiling secretively, and upon noticing his eyes on him nodded his head in the direction of your building.

Brock nodded, turning to Elias once more, “Yeah, I did. You guys don’t have to wait for me, I can get back by myself.”

“Yeah, we know.” Quinn smirked, before gasping as Elias delivered a swift, calculated blow to his diaphragm, knocking the air out of his lungs, and muttering a quiet ‘shut the fuck up’ under his breath as he did so.

Brock ignored them both, already starting the quick walk back up to you, though when he knew he was out of sight from his friends, his brisk walk turned to a hurried run, using the railing on the stairs to launch him up further. By the time reached your door he was breathing heavily, hands a little clammy. 

He took a couple of breaths, running his hands through his hair before knocking on your door.

You were mid-way through clearing the glasses from the coffee table when there was a knock at your door. You stopped where you were, quickly reaching to pause the episode of Gilmore Girls – you weren’t expecting anyone else, and no one had left anything behind.

It could be a neighbour, but they knew to announce themselves–

“It’s Brock.” 

His voice filtered through the door, and the glasses in your hand momentarily slipped, your heart pounding. You threw a cautious glance to the clock above the door: it had barely been five minutes since he left, and honestly, you weren’t even expecting him to ‘talk to you later’. You’d told yourself not to get your hopes up, but either way he’d changed his mind.

This was sooner rather than later – and you were far from prepared. In fact, you were pretty exhausted.

But it was Brock.

You walked over to the door, peering through the peephole to see Brock with pink cheeks and a slightly heaving chest; coat unbuttoned as he put his hands on his hips. His face was tilted away from the door, giving you a full view of his side-profile as his teeth grazed his bottom lip anxiously. 

You stifled a smile, not wasting a second before opening the door, one hand still clutching a  few glasses by their stems. His head snapped to you as you opened the door, a relieved smile automatically making its way onto his face. 

“Sorry, um, I just needed to talk to you.” Brock started, looking at you but clearly struggling with his words. His eyes were bouncing from you to things behind you, nerves eating at him, and you smiled – to ease his mind.

“Sooner rather than later?” You stepped to the side, allowing him to step over the threshold and into your toasty apartment, though with the way he immediately shedded his coat again, he was clearly a little too hot.

But he nodded anyway, draping his coat across the back of the sofa, “I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, “I’m just gonna put these in the kitchen first, do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks, not right now.” He muttered, and you nodded, moving into the kitchen and placing the glasses by the sink, before turning around only to see Brock walk into the kitchen carrying bowls and even more glasses and placing them by the sink.

He rolled his sleeves up his forearms, and you could only stare in disbelief as he made himself at home, wandering back into the font room and rearranging the cushions around him, twisting back to you with an impatient look on his face.

“Sorry.” You muttered, making your way back to the sofa and sitting an appropriate distance away from  him. 

The TV was still on, and a few of the candles you’d set up earlier were beginning to fade and flicker, the lighting somewhat romantic. But it was cosy, and you pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa across your lap, offering the other half to Brock, who shook his head.

“I ran up the stairs, so I’m warm enough.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “But thanks.”

You nodded, not sure what else to say.

It was very rare that either of you didn’t know what to say; awkwardness was never really a term you used to describe your relationship with Brock – it was always pretty natural. There were silences, but only the kind where nothing had to be said. So this was uncharted territory in more ways than one.

You inhaled, biting the bullet, “So, where should I start?”

Brock looked at his lap briefly, picking off a scrap of lint, “’Why didn’t you tell me you guys broke up?”

You tilted your head at him, “Noah was still hanging around for a while, and he said some stuff about you, us, that, had you been there, would have just made the situation worse. If I told you, you’d have probably come over–”

“Yeah.” He pulled a face, “‘Course I would. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be by yourself.”

“I wasn’t. I had Lauren.”

“You could have had me.” He muttered, eyes devastated – not for him, but for you. He didn’t want you to have had to go through it alone, and it killed him that you refused yourself of that extra support, “I would never have tried anything–”

“I know that.”

“I wouldn’t have provoked Noah – I never did, by the way, he just had a random need to…” he stuttered, “The guy had it out for me and I never even did anything.” He sighed, jaw clenching in frustration.

You nodded.

Noah had had it out for Brock; he hadn’t initially, it was something that had developed the longer you’d been together, and it had slowly ended up getting worse. Worse in that you felt like you couldn’t even look at Brock if he was in the room without causing an argument between you and Noah, and that was draining.

But not entirely Noah’s fault, either.

“It wasn’t random.” You confessed, closing your eyes and briefly touching your temple to ease the brewing headache at the conversation. It was the dredging up of little issues that you’d caused, intentionally or not, that it all accumulated to. They weren’t the sole reason for the end, though. 

Brock went quiet, gaze locked on you, chest steadily rising and falling with each breath. You were finding it hard to actually look at him, the pressure of the entire situation beginning to creep upon you.

“What?” He breathed delicately, as though he was afraid he’d misheard you.

You felt like rolling your eyes, but you kept it to yourself, “I told you Noah said some stuff, right?” He nodded, rather breathless, “He said that I’d been leading him on for a while because in the end, it wasn’t him that I wanted to see when I walked through the door. I think it was partly my fault; when we first started going out, he asked about you – something about the way you looked at me – and I told him that we always seemed to miss each other, that you were my ‘what if’, or whatever, but that it didn’t matter because it was him I was dating. That’s why he seemed to have it out for you, because you didn’t have your own girlfriend to ‘distract you’ as he so kindly put it. He thought that if you were single, and still hanging around, that somehow I’d just end up losing interest in him because I really just wanted you.”

He seemed to digest your words a little, and with each second that passed, you felt yourself become more restless, eager for him to say something to kill the little voice in your head telling you that you’d just got it all wrong.

“I mean, in a way, he was right.” You huffed, eyes a little watery but not threatening to turn into tears.

Still silence.

“Okay, so he was right about me, then.” You pulled the blanket further up your lap, refusing to look at him. If you did, you were scared that the watery eyes would turn into the full waterworks, because, as much as you’d initially tried to deny it when you were with Noah, you had always wondered about what would have happened with you and Brock, if anything at all.

He was an easy person to love, and he made you feel important. You’d just started to have a more serious soft spot for him as the years had gone on, but you’d kept out of even stepping there because when you seemed to be single, he’d be in a relationship, and he always seemed happy. 

Who were you to ruin that for him?

“He was right about me too.” 

You swore if you’d have moved even a little faster that you’d have ended up with whiplash with the speed you turned to look at him. You’d imagined this, but it had never seemed realistic.

He seemed unfazed by the way you maintained a neutral disposition, wanting to keep your guard up just in case he said something else.

“Do you remember when we met?” He asked, hesitant, a little timid, but soft nonetheless.

You found yourself nodding, “Elias’s party three years ago.”

“We talked for about an hour, until I got a call from my manager, and when I came back in, you were talking to someone else.” He sniffed, red colouring the tips of his ears as he started to tap the cushion rhythmically, “You looked so happy I didn’t dare to interrupt. What I’m trying to say is that since I got to know you, I’ve been trying to find someone who makes me feel half the things that you make me feel all day, everyday, and even on the days I don’t see you, and I haven’t come close.” He took a breath, the look he fixed you with next stealing the air from your lungs, “I’ve tried telling myself that she was perfect, that I really must be happy…but it doesn’t change anything when the root of the problem is that she’s just not you.”

You shut your mouth, not quite remembering when you jaw dropped, and just looked at him. The way that, even after all you’d said, he still looked a little worried about it all; the way a few strands of his hair had flopped in front of his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, because you were his centre of attention. The way he was trying to smile at you, but his chin seemed to wobble with doubt. “There’s no one like you, not for me. I haven’t been able to even stomach anyone else since I broke up with her, and you were why I broke up with her. And I swear to God, when I left for New York and you came to say goodbye, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I was.” You admitted, unable to help the way your bottom lip wobbled.

He nodded sadly.

“But you’d just broken up with her and I hated the idea of being a rebound.” It was your turn to sniffle, “And then when you came back, you never even brought it up. I took it as you not wanting that with me, and then…” You trailed off.

The story finished itself, really. Then Noah came around. Shook some shit up.

“I didn’t bring it up because it felt wrong talking about it over the phone. I tried texting you, but nothing felt right, and then when we did see each other, someone always interrupted. Then Noah showed up and stuck around.” 

“I don’t regret Noah,” you murmured, Brock catching your eye as he shook his head in agreement, “I really did love him, I just don’t think it was enough for me in the end, and I’m so pissed at myself that it took two years to realise it.”

Brock’s fingers itched to touch you, to release the bottom lip you’d caught between your teeth, to smooth the crease on your forehead. But now wasn’t the time.

His head rang with Elias’s earlier words, “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” He sighed, still fighting to repress the urge to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew what he wanted to say, but the last thing he wanted was to either rub it in your face or have you thinking the wrong thing, “Some people are meant for each other at different points in their life, depending on circumstances or who they are at that time. People change, no one can help that.”

“What about the other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“The other people that change but don’t break up?”

“I think you just answered your own question.”

You sighed, frustrated, “What decides that, though?”

Brock was quiet, mind ticking, “I think if you love someone enough, that even if they do change, it won’t matter. I like to think you adapt to love the changed parts of them, otherwise what would be the point of loving someone?” 

“That’s nice.” You admitted, feeling mildly comforted by his words. They felt sort of like a promise of sorts.

“Can I ask you a question?” Brock asked after a moment's silence. 

You nodded, taking in the timid expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, combing back the loose strands. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was a bracelet on his wrist, almost like a knotted piece of tape.

You swallowed, heart pounding. It looked very familiar — almost exactly like the same piece of tape you’d given him ages ago because he felt like he was missing out on a good luck charm.

“If I hadn’t been in the picture, would you still be with Noah?” 

If Brock hadn’t been in the picture…that thought wasn’t a particularly comforting one. In fact, a life without Brock, even in the outskirts, sounded pretty miserable in your opinion. 

However, in regards to his question, the answer was pretty obvious.

“Probably. Maybe, it’s hard to say.” 

His face seemed to fall at that admission, “Sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling softly, “Don’t be, I prefer it. If anything, I think it says that I’d have settled for someone that makes me feel less than what I feel for you, and the idea of that is pretty dull.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, “Pretty dull?”

You shrugged, “At least pretty dull.”

“What now, then?” 

You swallowed, heart hammering wildly against your sternum at the suggestion in his words. You hadn’t ever really expected you’d get this far with Brock – ever. The endless missed opportunities or bad timings felt like an accumulation of signs not to give into your feelings for him, not a ‘bide your time’ kind of thing.

“I need some time before…”

Brock nodded, smiling like he’d expected your answer. In fact, knowing the kind of person he was, it wouldn’t have been a shock at all if he’d even anticipated it.

“That’s fine by me. I’ve waited three years, I can wait a little longer.” He joked, and this time you noticed the way his hand seemed to jump towards you, before he clenched his fist, folding it under his arm to quell the urge, “I do mean it, though. Take all the time you want, I’ll keep my distance–”

The overwhelming surge of panic that seemed to just crash over you at his promise of distance seemed to come over you quickly. You’d just got him in arm’s distance, and now he was about to leave you alone?

“Hopefully not too far.” You interjected, “I mean, I broke up with Noah two months ago, I’ve already had a lot of thinking time.” And at the insensitive bluntness of your hurried words, you added, “I just need to…close that chapter.”

He nodded, jaw clenching as he fought an excited smile. And, almost to distract you both, he turned to point at the TV, “Do you want to press play?”

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 3 ~ PAINKILLERS & PLEAS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5| ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: lil update for yall before i start getting busy

chapter warnings: somewhat vividly described gore, possible lazy editing on my part

chapter word count: 3.2k

Over the next week with them, you find that the boys’ unwarranted kindness makes it easier to fit yourself into the rhythm that all their hearts beat too, despite the odds.

Each morning you wake up to heat radiating either side of you, indicators of Minho’s back inches behind you and the length of Chan’s thigh pressed against yours through the double layer of your blankets. Jeongin is always the first to wake, and Hyunjin the last - no more late night tears occur with him. You wonder if Minho or Seungmin or even Chan have told him not to be alone with you, just in case.

Changbin, you find, is a little more serious on the exterior than he was when he was a child, though you’re not sure if it’s from being forced to survive or general maturing or even the time he’s spent serving in the army - he was lucky to be on leave when the Pestilence came. One thing you deem as odd is that he seems a little less vigilant of you than you’d expect him to be, but then again, nothing is exactly as you expect it to be. His eyes still hold no recognition for you. Somehow it makes the kindness in them harder to stomach.

You manage to avoid inciting Minho’s protective wrath, garner a few spare smiles from the still wary Jeongin, and crack Jisung’s shell enough to talk briefly about his music production. Best of all, you earn Felix’s friendship. His smiles feel like a trail of crumbs leading you closer and closer to a place where you might have the chance of belonging.

You’re eager to earn their trust, not only because it would give you someone to trust in return, but also because you’re beginning to realise just how close you were to driving yourself crazy when you were on your own. You want to prove you’re useful, if not to them, to yourself.

You want to know that there’s a reason, other than luck, for you to have survived thus far.

So when the opportunity presents itself, you seize it. Changbin is surveying his neat arrangement of cans and bottles in the corner, his lips moving silently as he calculates how much longer they’ll last, when he announces it: you need to go on a supply run. Chan offers to come first, you next, causing Felix to perk up and volunteer too, which leads to Seungmin saying he’ll join as well before a narrow eyed Minho can.

Now, you stand just outside the lab, all your masks pulled up over your faces. You’ve got an empty rucksack over your shoulder and the knife that Minho handed to you, along with a threatening look, stowed safely in your pocket. Absently, you fiddle with the rucksack’s straps, craning your neck to look up at the disturbing, crimson sky.

“We could clear out the convenience store I met you guys at,” you suggest when Changbin doesn’t immediately lead you in a particular direction. “Unless you had anywhere else in mind,” you add hastily.

“The petrol that leaked will all be used up,” Chan points out. “We won’t have that safety measure.”

“It’s close, though,” Seungmin replies, agreeing with you, to your surprise. “We won’t be long.”

“Changbin?” Felix asks.

He shrugs. “I’m the only one who hasn’t been there. You tell me.”

All four of you look over at Chan, who makes a face and gestures for you to lead the way. It doesn’t take long for you to get to the petrol station, just like the first time. You still have to skirt your way around the dead body twenty metres from the lab, you still have to turn the corner round the Korean BBQ shop.

As you do, your eyes widen, because the place looks almost unrecognisable. The electronic sign that would have displayed the petrol prices has been almost fully melted from the fire, which must have caught one of the other pumps so suddenly it exploded - the whole shop front is blackened, the glass blown in. Ironically, it looks like something from a zombie movie.

“Guess I need to be sent to jail for arson,” you mutter.

“Wait, you did this?” Changbin asks.

Felix huffs. “I told you I wasn’t exaggerating.”

You feel heat rising up your neck and shove open the door, careful as you step over the shards of glass littered all over the scorched linoleum floor. There’s several small scuff marks on the floor, too small to be human footprints. Idly, you wonder if any of the feral dogs have learnt to open tin cans as well as survive without their owners.

Cold wind gusts in through the broken door, whistling between the high shelves and ruffling Chan’s hair. Involuntarily, you shiver. It’s strange to see a place that you’d visited so many times reduced to this state: food on the lower shelves has been knocked down, plastic bags ripped open, the contents half eaten and rotting, no doubt the doing of wild animals. A crow flaps by and settles on one of the registers, eyeing you and snapping a beak stained with a type of red you don’t want to think about.

“Grab whatever you can,” Chan instructs once he’s stepped in after Seungmin. “Changbin and I will get the water.”

You nod, wincing as glass crunches beneath your shoes and following Felix and Seungmin deeper into the store, the latter peeling off after a while to pile some tinned vegetables into his bag, the former turning to talk to you.

“Shall we try in the back?” He asks. “When I came through here to look for an exit, it looked like they had a lot of food in storage.”

“Sure,” you answer, pushing open the already ajar door, squinting against the darkness within.

You make it several steps in before the stench hits you. There’s no doubt that something or someone has died in here; the smell of rotting flesh hits you like a punch in the face, and you clap a hand over your face while beside you, Felix retches. The next thing you notice is the trail of blood, as if a body was dragged in here from somewhere else in the store, and your heart plunges.

How could you be so stupid? How could you be so distracted by the burns and glass on the floor and gathering food that you didn’t see the streaks of dried blood, rusty on the ground beneath your feet?

Then comes a jingle, and you catch a quick flash of silver: light, reflected off something fixed to a shadow on the floor, and as your eyes begin to adjust, you realise with a jolt what it is. A metal tag, dangling from what must have once been a lovely blue collar that is now stained almost black with dirt and what you’re beginning to realise is blood. A lot of fucking blood.

The shadow attached to the collar growls.

Felix makes a choked sound, and the wind howls in and pushes the door open more, further illuminating the room and revealing what exactly the dog was feeding on - one of the store workers, long dead from what must have been the illness. The blood staining its muzzle is nothing like the old smears on the floor, not brown but the startling red of the sky.

You curse under your breath as several more growls sound, more dogs appearing from behind the storeroom shelves. The two of you won’t stand a chance fighting against them. These are the dogs that survived without their owners, who probably weren’t even trained properly, who would definitely prefer fresh, still warm meat to the rotting human they dragged into their new home.

Backing away, you fumble for the knife in your pocket. The first dog growls, and you can see the muscles in its haunches bunching, as it prepares to launch itself at you. You are completely and utterly screwed.

Adrenaline rockets through you. A stupid, entirely unhelpful thought shoots through your head: this is what your ancestors felt like before they tamed the wolf. Though not exactly - the one difference is that these dogs are not wild and they don’t have the instincts of a wolf to capably hunt for themselves, which means they’re hungry and you’re food.

Lurching to the side, you scrabble for anything on the shelf to your right, knocking over half the cans with a huge clatter, and launch the first thing your fingers come in contact with at the dog, just the second before it leaps.

The can of cat food glances off its shoulder but hits hard enough that your throat thankfully doesn’t get torn out.

Whirling around, as fast as you can in the seconds remaining before the dog recovers and attacks again, you grab Felix by the arm and shunt him as hard as you can towards the door. He stumbles, cursing, but makes it through and you sprint for the door too.

Felix’s eyes widen. You turn just in time, almost overbalancing in your haste, blindly stabbing out with your knife.

Fortunately, your blade hits home, and you narrowly miss probably losing a leg.

Less fortunately, your calf gets shredded into ribbons.

Agony tears through you, almost brings you to your knees, but your momentum sends you forward, out of the storeroom. Swearing colourfully, Felix catches you and kicks the door shut behind you, and it shakes with the impact of what must be the other dogs hurling themselves against it.

Seungmin hurtles around the corner, closely followed by Changbin and Chan. You grit your teeth, your eyes watery, fighting back the scream that builds in your throat, knowing your nails are biting into Felix’s arms and hurting him but unable to stop yourself. Changbin takes one look at the blood streaming down your leg and strides over, easing you out of Felix’s hold and hooking an arm around your waist so he can keep you upright.

“We need to get out of here,” you gasp. “I don’t know if the door will hold.”

“What happened?” Seungmin demands.

“She saved my life,” Felix replies. “I’ll explain later. Let’s go.”

You attempt to take a step forward, still clutching Changbin’s arm for support, and realise that it’s not such a great idea at all when spots fizzle to life right before your eyes, pain shooting through your leg as if someone’s replaced your shin bone with a hot poker. A stifled sound rips itself from you as you straighten, trying to fight back the wave of nausea that fills you when you glance down.

Blood runs down your legs and collects in your shoe, soaking your sock. The wound is messy, all torn flesh mixed in with shredded cloth, and you can see the puncture marks from the dog’s teeth, neat circles that tear away in long gashes. You sag against Changbin.

“I’ll carry you.” He phrases it like a suggestion, but you get the feeling he’d do it even if you refused.

Mutely, you nod. You’re half certain you’ve gone into shock.

He picks you up with ease, careful not to jostle you as he holds you with one arm under your legs and the other at your back. You tip your head to rest against his shoulder, trying to focus on the firm feel of his chest against your side in a failing attempt to ignore the blaring, insistent pain in your leg.

The brisk pace that Seungmin sets as he walks ahead with Chan while Felix explains means that to keep up, Changbin can’t hold you steady enough to completely avoid jarring your leg; you can’t remember when, but he’s tied a tourniquet for you from his shirt sleeve, tight enough that pulses rather than an onslaught of pain come throbbing down your leg with each step he takes. The distance from the store to the lab stretches far longer than it was on the way there.

“I’ve decided to become a cat person,” Changbin mutters. “Even though I’m allergic.”

You manage a strained laugh, knowing he’s trying to distract you. You already know he’s allergic. When he came over to your house after school, he’d always insist on petting your cat, even when his eyes and nose streamed.

Changbin laughs too, but it’s nothing like his real laugh, just a hollow sound that might have somewhat put you at ease if you didn’t know he was faking it. He twists sideways so he doesn’t bash your feet against the door frame into the lab. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead.

Looking worried, Felix’s face appears beside you, and he pulls off his mask, grabbing your hand tightly and squeezing it, unable to hide the concern roiling in his eyes despite the wavering smile he gives you. His face has paled a little, making his freckles stand out starkly, like brown constellations across a honey sky. They fade as your eyes go blurry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t move sooner,” he says, gnawing at his lip. “If you hadn’t had to push me out the door, you might have gotten out before the dog jumped.”

You force your eyes to focus on him. Over his shoulder, there’s a commotion as Seungmin and Chan enter the lab, no doubt relaying the story. “It’s okay, Felix. I froze up too. Seeing the body… it was awful.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was,” he nods. “Thank you.”

Hyunjin rushes over, his face draining of colour when he sees you. “Oh, shit.”

The others crowd around too, before Changbin orders them away and helps you sit down. Wordless, Minho kneels beside you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he cuts away the rest of your ruined trouser leg, peeling off the scraps of blood soaked fabric from where they stick to your skin with laser focus. You think you glimpse a hint of concern in his eyes, but the pain has made you dizzy.

Everyone else steers clear, though Felix and Hyunjin send you worried looks, and Chan talks in a low voice with Seungmin and Jeongin. You get the impression that an injury as serious as yours has happened before, and they know to leave Minho alone as he works to clean your leg and bandage it, keeping Changbin’s tourniquet in place.

He doesn’t speak, either to put you at ease or to tell you how bad it is, so you take it as a good sign. Hiding your face in the crook of your elbow, you lie back and grit your teeth. You don’t want to look at your calf. You don’t want to know the damage.

Eventually, he sits back on his heels and cleans his hands on one of the less soiled wet wipes he must have been using to sanitise your calf. Getting up without a word, he turns and searches the rucksacks until he finds what he’s looking for, taking out a few pill packets and popping out two from each before returning to your side and holding them out to you with a freshly opened bottle of water.

“Painkillers,” he informs you. “Probably enough to knock you out for a bit, once they kick in. And antibiotics, since dog bites get infected a lot. Hopefully they’ll work if it transmitted the Pestilence, too.”

He watches you choke them down.

You don’t point out that if antibiotics worked on Pestilence, a lot more people would be alive right now.

Minho bundles up a spare blanket and eases it under your leg, his voice curt. “Keep it elevated. Try not to move too much.”

You blink as he walks off. He doesn’t really have anywhere to walk off to, so he just inserts himself between Jisung and Jeongin, who are sorting through the supplies he, Chan and Changbin managed to grab before you all left, his jaw still clenched.

Chan sits down beside you, a dark expression on his face as he takes in Minho’s handiwork, fiddling with his masks before he stills his hands, shoves the masks into his pocket, and gives you a hard look. You get the feeling that you’re about to be reprimanded, and you don’t really like the idea, but you can’t exactly get up and evade him.

“What you did was stupid.”

Yup, there it is.

“But it was also brave,” he adds, surprising you.

“There’s a fine line between brave and stupid,” you reply dryly.

He huffs a laugh. “That’s true, but I just wanted to thank you. It’s a pretty big deal to get bitten by a dog for some guys you didn’t know a week ago.”

You look at him. Belatedly, you realised that this - Chan saying that he values what you did - is him extending the olive branch. Before, you could tell he was still unsure about you, but there’s a certainty that sparkles in his eyes now, a confidence that fills you with a burst of hope that catches you off guard with its suddenness. There’s a chance that you might have caught the disease and that you might spread it to the others if you have, but he’s willing to take that risk because you are someone he wants to keep around, someone he knows he can trust with his life and with his friends’ lives.

You can feel the painkillers beginning to work, your eyelids drooping and the acute pain of the dog bite being washed away by numbness, but they don’t hold back the startling rush of clarity that clears your head: you didn’t hesitate this time, and you won’t hesitate the next.

“I’d do it again,” you tell Chan, so softly he has to lean forward to hear.

A strange look passes over his face. He gets up but pauses for a moment. “Let’s hope you won’t have to.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see him walk away. Your head is fuzzy, and you can no longer feel the sharpness in your calf - it’s turned into a dull ache, weak enough that you could forget it’s there. You don’t want to forget it’s there.

There’s a shuffling sound beside you and you crack your eyes open again. Felix is there, looking like an angel with his blonde hair and freckles and sweet, worried face. Reaching forward, he takes your hand again but says nothing, and you cling to him, suddenly irrationally afraid that they’re going to leave you while you’re sleeping. You try to focus on his face in an attempt to fend off the tidal waves of fatigue crashing over you.

“Felix,” you whisper. “What if I get the disease?”

He squeezes your hand, hard enough for you to wince, but you don’t let go, needing to hear what he says before you give in to sleep.

“You won’t,” he says.

It sounds more like a plea than a promise.

taglist: @estella-novella@0bticeo@lixies-favorite-cookie@smashleywow@realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 (let me know if you want to be added)

[owlservice]

During one of these [opthamology] clinics, I was asked to see a gentleman in his early sixties, accompanied by his wife. As I sat down with him in a corner of the huge communal clinic room, the lack of privacy astonishing, he began to tell me how his vision had been deteriorating for the past two or three years. [...] Despite several procedures to his eyes, his vision had not improved. If anything, it was worsening, which was why he had been referred to this clinic. When I examined him, it was clear that his near and far vision were entirely normal, as were his eyes. But when I asked him to read some text, he found it almost impossible. Becoming suspicious that this was indicative of a brain rather than eye problem, I pulled out a small green book, a tool we use for cognitive testing. Among its pages are pictures of faces to test facial recognition, line drawings of various animals and tools to recognise visual meanings, like pictures of boys playing with sandcastles on a beach. And as we worked our way through these tests, it became clear that while the gentleman’s eyes were normal, the visual cortex – the part of the brain drawing meaning from visual inputs – was far from working normally. He could not make out broken letters and had difficulties recognising simple visual objects – a teapot, a shoe, a padlock. Putting together the time course of the progression of his complaints, a previously normal CT scan of the head, and the nature of his cognitive problems, I was fairly convinced that this was an unusual presentation of Alzheimer’s disease, a diagnosis subsequently proven correct. I asked him what he thought might be going on, but it was obvious that neither he nor his wife had any inkling of this – they were convinced it was some as-yet unrecognised eye complaint. The time came for me to present my findings to my boss, and as I began, other doctors, ophthalmologists, gathered round. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the patient and his wife listening carefully, hanging on every word; I have always been uneasy with this aspect of clinical life, as it is sometimes deeply unhelpful to discuss a patient’s case in front of them. I got to the end of the findings and paused, fearful of outlining my conclusion, knowing that the man and his wife did not expect the diagnosis I had made. After a few seconds, I was asked what I thought was going on, and I responded, ‘I think he has beta-amyloid deposition,’ using a highly technical phrasing implying Alzheimer’s disease but allowing me to shield the poor couple from having the diagnosis broken in such a public and brutal manner. There was another brief pause, before one of the ophthalmologists blurted out, ‘What? You think he has Alzheimer’s disease?’ The look of horror and dismay on that man’s and his wife’s faces has never left me, the cruelty of that moment carved deep. Every time I think about that awfulness, I feel a rising tide of nausea.

The Man Who Tasted Words, Guy Leschziner

[lonelystarrs]

Tugs & Texts

Barou Shouei x FemReader

With how you’d both met at twelve and how you promised to make his life hell in school no one would have guessed you’d be dating at sixteen. At eighteen Barou left for Blue Lock and you both started learning it wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought. But there you were, always support him in every sense with your quirky ass ways. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, it also makes tension rise in the best fucking way. You’d be the death of him he was sure of it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • Blue Lock timeline • both virgins • phone sex • smut • fluff • Barou is smitten • size kink •

If people knew how you met Barou then they’d never have guessed he’d eventually be the one to start dating you. Kicking a ball into his face at the age of twelve because he was apparently bullying another kid. Barou called it ‘saying it how it was to save them making a fool of themselves in the future’, you called it mean, egotistical and bullying. It wasn’t the most romantic story to tell on how you both met, sure, but you still laughed telling it. 

But that was how it happened.

He said some mean shit to your friend about his uselessness at soccer and you went absolutely fucking not. 

He was impressed by the power and accuracy of the strike, none the less from a girl and the fact you’d caught him off guard. 

Barou Shouei was a ripe asshole of a person long before his age made double digits and you simply didn’t stand for it.

You promised you’d make his life hell since that day and you left little twelve year old him stood dumb founded with a nose bleed and his heart kicking in his ribs. 

It developed over the years, the constant bickering —god the teachers hated you both in the same class, apart from that one art teacher that seemed to know something no one else did, but that part will come in a sec. 

It pissed him off at the start with how you never backed down to him and never got upset with his ways —as he got older it got weirdly fucking endearing. 

So endearing in fact that his teenage mind and hormones started to act up changing his view on you. He tried to remain stubborn, truly he did, acting like you were a pain in his ass and nothing more. 

But he wasn’t the only teenage boy with boiling hormones and a mind quickly adapting to it… So when other guys also started taking notice of how much prettier you were getting, how your body started to change that’s when it became an issue for Barou. 

He absolutely wasn’t developing feelings for you —it was purely hormones and he was human much to others denial of it. 

But that’s where the art teacher stepped in, the only one brave enough to pair you and Barou together for a project. It caused silence in the class when she announced it, even the students stunned she’d make such a foolish choice. That evil glint in her eyes, her quiet evil cackle as she drummed her fingers together in her corner watching you together. 

That was also the day he started to really changed his mind on you, he still remembers it clearly. 

He fucking hated arts, it was messy and shit got everywhere. He didn’t have an artistic bone in his body either and he wasn’t about to try. 

You stepped in for him surprising him with how good you actually were at drawing, you picked up the charcoal and went for it. He just sat and watched you, red eyes softening as he really took a look at you. Your tongue poking out as you concentrated, your hair tucked behind your ear to keep from your eyes even though loose strands were falling from your messy bun. 

Your skirt riding higher than it should be, those thigh high socks causing a little dip in your thighs at the rim. He felt heat crawl up his neck and he cleared his throat looking back up to what the hell you were drawing. 

When you signed it off with a title and slid it over to him he realised what it was, his hairstyle was hardly unrecognisable so he knew it was him. 

You’d draw him in charcoal, striking a goal. 

‘The Kings Strike.’ 

That’s what you called it, you waved him off saying it was nothing and it was from his game last weekend. He found out you had photographic memory and he also found out you’d been attending his games. 

Just cause your girl friends wanted to go and cheer on the boys, but you only went to be social —apparently. Not interested in the sweaty men running around with egos over balls and nets. 

Your blabbering fell on deaf ears because it was difficult for him to ignore how black your fingers had gotten whilst smudging the charcoal. So he reached for his back pack and pulled out his trusty cleaning wipes, ignoring you laughing about his supply of them. The bell ringing was deaf on you as you watched Barou Shouei cleaning your hands of charcoal, his hands were so soft and warm, despite his rough personality he was gentle, thumbs massaging over your fingers to rub out the black stains. His eyes fixed on the task, then telling you to be at his game this coming weekend and to sit on the front row. 

He took the drawing, he still has it at home but it’s framed —you had no idea he’d done that.

Interactions started changing from then; he sat near you in most classes willing to pair up, his reaction to your taunting was less aggressive and you eventually turned into flirting with him covering it with humour. He always cleaned your hands after arts, he always corrected your uniform if it went out of line.

Then he started handing you water after PE telling your dumbass to keep hydrated and he glared at guys who tried coming up to you, never saying a word but Barou never had to. It was subtle to start with until it got so noticeable that rumours flying around that you were Barou’s girl and it didn’t take him long to let everyone know it was true. 

At sixteen Barou made his decision and told you to date him because he could tolerate you, hardly romantic but Barou wasn’t.

You left him alone for his soccer and respected his passion towards it, after all you never knew Barou any differently. It came first for him and you never asked for anything otherwise.

Everything was fine, surprisingly good actually and he was a great boyfriend. You swiftly both turning eighteen and that’s when lives started to take different paths. 

Him leaving for blue lock was a hard adjustment, you didn’t think it would be until he was gone with no contact, practically disappearing from your life without much notice which you really didn’t appreciate and let him know about it. 

It wasn’t nice, but not an adjustment you hated because he was doing him and you kept yourself busy for your studies. You’d never tell him how shitty the nights could be sometimes, how it did actually affect you more than you’d like to admit because he was chasing his dreams. Not like how you felt would ever stop him but you just didn’t think it would help anything. 

So you coped, you adjusted, you suffered in a way that he’d never know about because you didn’t think he needed to. Besides that was your problem to deal with, not his, you couldn’t rely on him all the time. It was unhealthy. 

Your phone was drier than his dry ass texts, because he wasn’t allowed access to it in Blue Lock. 

Until the day your phone did ring, Barou’s ID as clear as day on the lit up screen, gracing your eyes with him working out shirtless days before he left for Blue Lock. Your heart leaped into your throat and you answered it a little too keenly, almost dropping it as you slid the bar to answer.

Barou however wasn’t himself, he sat in the empty canteen alone, Isagi had left him after eating. Throughout his entire time here he had succeeded and even though him being stolen for Isagi and Nagi’s team wasn’t a bad move he still felt the affects of that match replaying in his mind days later. That shitty feeling of defeat was resurfacing, clawing at the back of his skull and churning something foreign in his stomach.

Truthfully, it shook him seeing Isagi and Nagi push him aside, a lesson learnt and a new drive for the king, sure. How you grow is from crap happening and he was fine with it. 

He learned from pain, he wasn’t wallowing but for some reason it niggled something in him that made him want to reach for you, for the first time in two years of dating you and five of knowing you. It made him think about you more, finding his mind drifted whilst training, like you not being around as much suddenly hit him at once.

So he cashed in his points and got his phone so he could close that gap that had formed. 

He barely spoke, letting you just talk because all he wanted was your voice, your weirdly cheerful personality and your annoying ass ability to make him feel better to work its magic. 

“So you cashed in points to get your phone back?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” 

“But I am flattered and I’m gonna remind you forever that you do actually miss me~! How could you not? It is me.” 

“An ego doesn’t suit you, lose it.” He grumbled, letting the smirk twitch at his lips and luckily for him you couldn’t see it. 

“You’re smirking right now.” 

Well that took it off his face. 

“Pahaha! Aw Barou~! I miss you too, seriously it’s shit but I know you gotta do this, so I’m here for you when you have a shit day.” 

“Tch, who said I’m having a shit day? Just callin’ cause I have to, this boyfriend crap is exhausting it’s been peaceful without you.”

“Well, m’phones been drier than a camels ass in a sandstorm so-“ 

“You’re disgusting, go get some fucking friends then loser.” 

“Pftttt says you, Mr I go to the bowling alley by myself.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Hmm, I wish, still waiting for that y’know, kinda glad we didn’t do it before you left though, that woulda been real cruel.”

Barou fell silent down the line and it was your turn to smirk, twirling your hair around your finger you shifted on your bed. 

Got him. 

“Guessing you didn’t check your messages from me?” 

“No.” 

“Cute, you called me straight away~ missing your little virgin girlfriend waiting for you at home to be devoured by her king~” 

Barou inhaled sharply through his nose, he was glad he had his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. One hand holding the phone to his ear the other rose to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop his mind wondering. His cock rising to a semi regardless, these joggers weren’t going to hide much either and he was still in the canteen.

“Suggest you look through the messages, it’ll help you whilst away.” 

“I can’t do shit, there’s no fucking privacy so stop being a damn tease.”

“Barou, you still in here?” 

Despite the male addressing him Barou heard your snicker down the phone, his jaw clenched, eye twitching and vein popping all signs his lack of patience was biting. Can’t these guys just fuck off? Seriously everywhere he looks they aren’t far away. 

“Well, I’ll let you go king~ keep devouring, keep pushing yourself and keep learning Barou. You’re gonna eat them alive and when you’re back, you can eat me alive again~! Turns out that unholy mouth of yours really does show me heaven~!”

“Woman-” 

Barou realised his mistake when he growled it out down the phone, red eyes instantly turning to Isagi and Chigiri who both rose an eyebrow at him, a smirk spreading over Isagi’s face. 

Sadly your loud laughter down the phone was heard by the eavesdroppers only confirming you were a female. 

“You called a girl?” 

“I find it hard to believe someone would actually be attracted to him.” 

The line went dead leaving Barou to look at the boring ass screen of his blank wallpaper. 

Frowning at it he suddenly realised despite knowing you since he was 12 and dating you for two years he had no photos of you. 

Isagi leaned over his shoulder and addressed the exact same thing going through the kings head. 

“No photos of her? C’mon show her off! She pretty?”

Chigiri also leaned over mildly curious as well. 

“I’m intrigued also, hard to believe someone like you has a girlfriend.”

“Fuck off you peasants!”

Barou stood abruptly and pushed the boys out the way, isagi sniggered and elbowed Chigiri. 

“I think he’s a little flustered.” 

Barou half turned, his form a shadow and red eyes glowing giving him some eerie ass look that wiped the smile from Isagi.

“What was that, donkey?”

“Nothing! I said I bet she’s real pretty.” 

“Damn fucking right she is, mention her again or to anyone else and I’ll kill you got it?” 

Isagi nodded trying to hide the smirk twitching on his mouth, Chigiri with his usual cool expression. 

“Reckon he’s a house husband? He definitely wears the maid outfit.” 

“Yeah, I can kinda see that.” Chigiri agreed, both their heads running through the images of him running the home like a maid “-I’d rather not though.”

Hands in pockets, slouched back he grumpily made his way down the hallway towards the bathing rooms, shutting himself in there and locking the door behind him. 

Unlocking his phone he went straight to your messages, ignoring anything else popping up on his notifications from having it off so long. He’d check your socials later, maybe, he’d prefer not seeing you carry on in life without him but he was also curious as to what you’d been up to. He’d been distracted and focused for weeks in here, it helped not thinking about you on the outside.

“Tch, fucking girl is gonna be the death of me.” 

He grumbled, scrolling through the texts you’d been sending him over the last few weeks, thankfully not everyday texts -every Friday you’d message him about your week, he’d skipped them for now as the picture messages were what caught his eyes. 

His cock was already semi hard from the phone conversation, mind running with the shit you’d put in there and how easily you got into his head about it. Cock hardening completely it bulged in his joggers as he seen what you’d sent. 

His heart raced in his chest, thumping so loudly he heard it in his ears, hot flushes running through his body as he watched the videos.

Your index and forefinger running over your clit before separating your lips to give him a full view, watching your drooling hole clenching around nothing. 

God your pussy was so fucking pretty, his mouth watered at the sight. Thumb frozen as it hovered over the screen watching you collect slick to run over your clit in circles, he dared turned the volume up slightly only to hear you moaning for him, hearing the squelch of your fingers pressing into your hole and he watched it stretch to accommodate them. 

You hadn’t slept together yet, but he knew how good you felt on his tongue and fingers like you did him. 

“Shit, this damn girl-“ 

Barou reached for the bottom of his sweater, lifting it to bite the end of it holding the material out of the way, exposing his six pack. Reaching down for the waist band of his joggers lifting hips to bring them down enough to release his cock, it slapped his stomach and he groaned, he was rock solid -weeks of refraining from any release due to the lack of privacy offered here. 

His hand wrapped around his thick head, thumb rubbing over the tip smearing his precum, he released a breathy moan as his thighs tensed. 

Barou wasn’t wasting any time in fucking into his fist —hard, horny and feeling feral about the idea of being the one to take you for himself. His pace matching your fingers as you fucked yourself for him on video. He didn’t last two damn minutes and he wasn’t trying to hold back, he tapped his cock against his stomach, getting more turned on by how hard his dick was.

“Cummin’ Barou!” 

He watched your hips lift from the bed, how you got the camera skills you had he didn’t want to know -but you didn’t miss anything, your hips rolled in the air as he watched your pussy clench around your fingers. 

His cock throbbed as he felt that build up reach its tipping point, he panted through his teeth and the material in his mouth, drooling into it. 

What really helped him finish was you pulling your fingers out, watching that clear cum cover your fingers and link to your dripping hole. The camera followed them as they travelled to your mouth, only your tits and mouth in shot as you smirked, cleaning off your own fingers tongue sliding between them making sure you didn’t miss anything. 

“Shit, fuckkk-“ Barou grunted, his legs straightened and his head rolled back to hit the wall behind him, heels digging into the floor to brace himself as he came, releasing into his hand and stomach as his body shook. 

His chest heaving as the release waved through his body leaving him lax, his cock resting on his stomach and he looked down at the damn mess. 

Tch. Looked good though. 

Accessing his camera he flipped it to selfie mode, he angled it down so you could just see his jawline, teeth biting into his shirt holding it out the way, cum covered his cock and hard stomach. His hand holding his dick which dripped cum still leaking from the slit, he could see his dick flexing as cum drooled from it.  His load was thick and almost too much -balls finally emptying from ignoring his needs. Cock softening but still looking thick and heavy even in his large hands. 

He’d been around enough guys in the baths here to know he was fucking big, even soft he was packing a dick. It only aided his smug ego when he thought about how you were going to struggle taking him, perhaps a little concerned he was going to actually hurt you. 

Barou > 1 image attachment

sent. 

Queen > ;) Good boy Barou. Knew it, you missed me~! 

Received 

Barou > See how cocky you are when you struggle with it. 

Sent

Queen > Yeah, it’ll be kinda hot though. 👀 

Received 

Barou > oi, send me that photo.

Sent 

Queen > I’ve just sent you loads! 

Recieved

Barou > One in the dress. 

Sent 

Queen > seriously? You’ve got all those lingerie photos and you want that summer one? It’s not even wank bank material. 

Received

Barou > that’s the fucking point dumbass, just send it!! 

Sent 

Barou locked his phone and cleaned up the mess he’d made, deciding he much preferred it when you were around to deal with it, instead he took another quick shower before heading back to the room. 

Checking his phone one last time to see your messages. Opening the attachment to find he got what he wanted. 

One of your friends had shot a photo of you during the summer, wearing a yellow sundress that hugged your waist, the skirt dancing around your thighs from the breeze, your hand holding it down and the other holding your straw hat to your head. 

The laugh on your face, your hair dancing around you. One spaghetti strap had slipped off your shoulder, tits pushed up from your arms pressing into them holding onto your dress to save your dignity from the breeze. Tanned summer skin standing out beautifully against the yellow dress, the gold necklace with a small dainty B sitting high on your neck. 

Long toned legs, thigh showing from the height of the skirt blowing up. Pretty short acrylic nails painted white like your toes for summer, hands just missing that ring he knew he’d put on you one day. 

It was the kind of photo that made him realise he was fucking smitten with you. 

He locked his phone again and shoved it under his pillow, arms crossing behind his head as he glared at the ceiling. The room was dark and others asleep to which he was grateful for because he knew his damn face was burning. 

God this was fucking pathetic. 

Your words of encouragement over the phone earlier repeated in his mind now he could think more clearly, the relief in hearing your voice again, seeing photos of you. His heart swelled in his chest, it took away that feeling he was unable to shake. 

His ego lowered for a split second and it allowed that voice to tell him what he’d been ignoring for weeks…

Yup, he missed your annoying ass. 

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[leonkennedygvrl]

The Beauty of Embalmment.

re2r neighbour leon kennedy x vampire fem reader

💋 warning — 18+, biting, blood kink, stalking, cannibalistic thoughts, necrophilia, gore, weird stuff, dick biting, just lots of biting, marking, p in v, forced orgasm, mentions of self harm, virginity loss, leon’s 27 but re2, reader is 30, reader is really weird and icky, dead fucking dove guys seriously it’s gross and all of that so mind what you read!

Cold and dark. This was your type of night, surrounded in the stench of decay in a room where only a faint buzz would emerge and abolish the silence. You’d open a fridge, stare quite blankly at the feet of someone with a tag hooked to their toe. This was a man, you’d only gotten him yesterday. He could do with a little bit of… corrupting, as they’d say.

Pulling his tray you guided him to the middle of the room, washing your hands in the sink, nails razor sharp before covering them with blue gloves. You had thought about filing them down, after all scratches leave DNA, DNA leads to evidence and that leads to jail time. Oh well, as long as you got your fill there as well.

See, the life long dream you had was to become a surgeon. Cut into bodies and remove abscesses and all those types of bits and bobs but luck was never on your side because you were a little different or a lot and who would ever trust a leech near a body? So instead, you became a mortician. There’s no point in trying to feast on a corpse, there’s a word for it but what’s it called… rigor mortis? No, not that one. You had studied it in forensics so long ago. Livor mortis, that’s the one. Blood didn’t taste good post-lividity, just bland and bitter and you were picky.

Being a vampire meant nobody in the world was attracted to you, that’s why you undressed corpses and touched their cold bodies. You covered their face for their diginity (?) more like to satiate your delusions that you were a better person.

This guy, you’d looked at his name on the tag, Edward with a long surname that you couldn’t be bothered reading. Hm, he was a little green settling into bacteria, scrawny and lifeless. His body stiff but to your dismay his dick was flaccid, and small. And ugly. It looked like a worm, but you’d have to make do. You stroked it, feeling no sense of arousal because he wasn’t packing many inches! You liked a big dick, or even average. Edward was perhaps… four inches?

“Edward, you must’ve had little women on your dick.” You mumbled dazed, you were kind of angry at him. Why was he so small? You hated it. You retracted your hand and pulled the cover off of his face, he was cute. Must’ve been Balkan, his nose was big. Maybe the saying was false, because his dick wasn’t much. “You need to be punished, Edward.”

You’d reached into your coat, pulling out a pretty pocket knife the blade rusted slightly. You’d used this a few times as a teenager, mutiliating your wrists because it looked nice and you liked the taste of your own blood. Then on some corpses, just like right now. You moved back towards the phallus, pressing the sharp edge of the knife against his foreskin and digging deep, sliding down. His blood flow was halted so it oozed out in a way you didn’t enjoy.

But his dick opened like a lotus flower blooming the more you cut into it, you observed the muscles and how limp they looked. This man was a mistake, he deserved to die. Half an hour in, you’d searched every nook and cranny until you were bored and he was unrecognisable — his organs hanging out, your pocket knife gripped in your hands as you slid down against the wall and brought it to your lips.

Just taste good, for once. You were hungry. Starving. Your tongue darted out and swiped across the blade, eyebrows frowning at the bitterness. The blood was clotting and thick, you much preferred the smooth silky texture of an alive person’s one. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. You packed everything up and went back to your gloomy apartment where you wallowed in self-pity.

You needed wanted blood. And dick. Good dick.

Oh, hail to the universe. The guy you were looking at, he was just… delectable. Could you say that? Boyish, strong-looking and alive. He wasn’t too pale, he looked warm. Mm. Warm blood. His thick forearms were straining as he held boxes, he was your new neighbour. You just stared at him while standing in the doorway of your apartment. Thick veins, more blood. Pulse, pulse, pulse. Your pussy was screaming in her panties, she wanted that boy.

You couldn’t describe how you felt, he was tall but not too tall, his hair was soft-looking and a pretty colour of dirty blonde with eyes resembling an azure sky. But what got you the most, apart from how warm he looked, was his sharp features. A bump on the bridge of his upturned nose and brows bushy yet groomed, his jawline chiseled. Perfect. God, you wanted to po—

“Hey there, mind opening the door for me please? My hands are in a bunch.” He said to you. He spoke to you. The fucking psycho who got off to dead bodies because she was so miserable in her own despondency. You watched his face contort intoperplexion, waiting for you to respond instead of standing there like a shunned fish. “Or… not.”

“No I can.” You rasped, scurrying in front of him and twisting the knob open. He smiled, a lively look in his pretty eyes. Life. Not dead. Not empty and dull. Not smelly. He smelt good. Oh, so good. Heightened senses meant you could smell the sweet coppery scent of his blood mixed with his odor of… maybe pine? Cherry? Nah, it was like citrus. Like Mountain Dew. He walked into his apartment and dropped the boxes, wiping his glistening forehead.

“Hey, thanks. You’re my neighbour right?” Leon asked with a tilt of his head, he could tell you were a bit weird and initially he took the hint that maybe you were austistic with the way you lacked social skills. Oh, that’s mean and downright disrespectful. He took it back. You were pretty though, something about you. He didn’t know what though.

Nod. Nod. Nod. Almost too eagerly, you cursed yourself but you didn’t fucking care! You wanted his blood, his body, all of him. And if he didn’t want you, then it’s alright. Straight to the morgue. Unless…

Unless say, he magically died and ended up in your care? Though you hoped he wouldn’t be as small as Edward. You know what they say about white guys. You heard him speak again but you honestly weren’t paying much attention.

Eon. Your expression became bashful, your brain was fried. You needed blood. Eon? Oh. Leon.

“Leon? Nice. I like that.” You blurted out and gave him a once-over, and he flushed. He wasn’t good with women. Especially forward ones. It’s the way you stared at him. “I like your name. Do you want help?”

“I mean, with unpacking? Yes, please.” He replied, watching as you moved to inspect his boxes. He followed after you, doing the same. It was a little awkward if he was being perfectly honest because whenever he looked at you, you weren’t looking. You were thinking. But what were you thinking about? Who were you? Why were you so surreal?

“So… have you lived here a while?” Leon asked, grabbing numerous glass cups and shoving them into a cupboard. He wasn’t a neat freak, he just wanted things out of the way. He noticed you took more time observing his items then actually putting them away. Weird…

“Born and raised. It’s a bad town, too subfusc. Did you notice it lacks bars everywhere? It’s industrial, cold and depressing.” You replied with a shrug, the next item you held was a frame. Of Leon. Must’ve been his graduate photo, with the outfit and all as you ran your index finger down the line of his face. Sharp nail grazing the glass. So pretty. So handsome. He had the type of head you’d hang on your wall.

Leon listened to you, yeah, you were weird. But he chuckled. It was kind of endearing. He hoped you’d put the photo away though, that’s when he had acne and his eyebrows were hairy. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t look at that, shouldn’t see the bad phases. “Really? And here I was thinking it was the perfect vacation spot.”

No laugh. As expected, he sucked at jokes. But you were just so focused on the photo, only the slightest little hint of a crooked smile appearing. He watched you shake your head, finally meeting his gaze.

“No, it’s horrible. Even this apartment, my pet bunny got dismembered by teenagers three years ago. On Halloween. So I don’t celebrate it anymore in honour of Mrs. Tinkel.” Oh, there it was. You watched the discomfort creep onto his expression. Maybe, if you were a little smarter, you would of kept that to yourself but hunger meant stupidity. Blood kept you sane. Sort of. If you could even keep an insane person sane.

“That’s… um, wow.” Leon breathed, clearing his throat. Maybe it was best to end the topic because you’d turned away and eventually most of the house was done. He thanked you for your help and closed the door once you exited. You still wanted his attention though, you debated cutting open your wrist like old times just so he could pamper you. But you didn’t. You figured he was creeped out enough.

That day plagued your mind for the following week, you worked night shifts only — hey, how else can you make it through as a nocturnal? So every evening, you rugged up, left your apartment but with the new addition, you’d stand right outside Leon’s door for a minute or two and stare. Just stare. Then you’d walk away and take several trains to the morgue. Do your deed, go home, sleep and repeat.

But during the day? Apart from a short nap, you started to watch over Leon. It was compulsive, you weren’t bored at all like normal. Your heart didn’t feel so cold, unless of course you weren’t watching him. Everything he did, you were writing it down in your brain, at the beginning it was just watching him through the window.

Although recently you started walking behind him in public spaces, taking photos with your flip phone. Yeah, they were grainy and kinda shit but you couldn’t be bothered upgrading it’s not like you cared about the media at all. If your eyes had good vision, why would you need a camera?

What bothered you was how Leon hardly spoke to you apart from the occasional greeting, was he really that pressed when you’d told him about your bunny? It’s not like you dismembered the poor thing. Some sicko did. See, you weren’t a sicko even if you harassed dead bodies. You were just… curious? Hungry? Dahdahdah, who cares. You needed to find a way to get him to speak to you again, and a rather silly idea popped into your head.

When the sun went down you journeyed off to the morgue and moved into the cold room, flicking through the fridges. You had so many goddamn females and with what you were planning, that simply would not work. The only male you had in stock was no other than fucking… small-dicked Edward. You shoved door open and pulled the trolley out, washing and gloving your hands before grabbing your trusty best friend.

The squelches that resonated from the corpse when you sliced into his chest accompanied that buzzing noise, the laceration splitting open wide until you saw his ribcage. You brought your fist down onto the fairly weakened bone and punched, again and again and again. The crunching was so… comforting. You severed the aorta carelessly and then shoved your hand into his chest, ripping the heart out.

You’d box it up, make it all nice and pretty and write a HEART warming letter. If Leon would, mind the smell, that is. You were eager, desperate at this point, you squeezed the organ a bit in your hands before moving to properly wash it. Hey, at least you were considerate.

And the very next day you knocked on Leon’s door, to your surprise he answered quickly. Yeah, you could have orgasmed right then and there. He had sweats on with a small towel draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly damp and he smelled as good as he always did. You quite literally resisted the urge to pounce on him.

“I got you a present. A gift.”

Leon’s eyebrow raised, looking down at the box in your hands. You’d need a lesson or two on learning how to wrap ribbons, but he was no expert himself. Props to you. He smiled. “You didn’t have to.”

You did. You did. You absolutely did.

He opened the door a little wider, ushering you inside with a wave of his hand. Large, calloused. You wanted to sink your fangs into his fingers. Nibble on his flesh, you imagined how good he’d taste. Fresh meat. But he was too perfect to die.

When you’d made yourself comfortable on his couch you handed him the gift with a smile that didn’t quite your eyes, you avoided toothy grins so that you didn’t need to deal with the inevitable consequence of people freaking out at the sight of your canines.

“Read the card first.” You muttered quickly, he needed to understand that you weren’t were insane. Just loving. And caring. And thoughtful. Leon nodded, pressing his lips together as he fingered the card and opened it up.

I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing, my darling. Only a fool would give up such a vital organ.

You every reaction he made, which was mostly a sense of mystification. But hey, no negatives so far. Your noticed a pain in your palm from how hard your nails were digging into the skin. Were you really this anxious?

“Wow, that’s uh…” Leon began with a dry chuckle, looking at you briefly before putting the note down and opening the box.

His eyes went wide. Not in the best way. You frowned, no; he has to like it. You did it all so he could like it. But he was frozen. Why was he frozen? After all the effort you put into it? Was he ungrateful? Did you read the signs wrong? It’s just an organ. Just an organ. A vital one.

“What… the hell?”

“It’s a heart.”

“I can see that.”

You tilted your head, you loved him. This wasn’t just some obsession. You felt a warmth around him.

“It’s clean. I didn’t murder someone,” You figured it’d be important to mention that. Though, would mutiliating a dead body be considered unlawful killing? Whatever. You moved to him, pushing the box to the ground. Baring your teeth, he gasped lightly at the sight of your fangs. Razor sharp, like your claws. “Nobody could ever love you like I can, Leon. You’re all I think about, all I know. I’m not dangerous, I just want a taste.”

“A taste? You’re—“ He tried, but was quickly interrupted when he felt your hot breath ghosting across his neck. He internally slapped himself, every woman he met was a bit cuckoo in some sort of way but why did he feel a pulse in his pants? It had to be some natural reaction because A: you happened to be attractive. B: You smelt nice. C: You were close to him. “God, you’re not going to kill me are you?”

“Taste.” You whispered, hand pressing onto his knee to keep him grounded. “It’ll hurt.” You sunk your fangs beside the two bite-shaped moles near his adam’s apple, his body convulsed as he groaned and attempted to push you off for a moment. No, you really were glued like a leech as you retracted your teeth and licked the blood.

Oh, it had to be the sweetest you’ve ever had. Your pupils dilated, blowing out your iris as Leon panted. He didn’t know why he was letting you do this, you were clearly a bit mental but at the same time… maybe he liked it, just a little bit. Old virgin boy like him was quite the pervert behind closed doors, so he let you mark him. His shoulders, chest, thick biceps, fingers, anywhere you could name.

“You’re draining me.” He whispered, blue eyes narrowed as he watched you crawl down his body. His dick was so hard it hurt and you gazed at it like you were starstruck.

“You taste too good.” You mumbled, fingers hooking into his sweatpants and underwear and shoving them down to his knees. He jolted, feeling the cold air hit his cock like a miasma. You were convinced you’d won the lottery at this point, he wasn’t small. His girth really got you going, so much flesh to play with that you weren’t feeling so tedious anymore.

Your lips were a little red from the blood as you lapped at the head of his cock, his thighs visibly tensing. He’d never felt something like that and mark him the biggest liar if he claimed to hate it, the way you swirled around his frenulum like you knew what you were doing. Although, thoughts might beg to differ if he discovered you’re a necrophilic.

“Fuck, it’s—“ Leon breathed with a rasp, his fingers tapping the couch in sensitivity. The sensations were so strong and when you finally wrapped those soft lips around his dick, he’d melted into a puddle of goo. Just like his brain. Absolutely mush as strings of whines left his lips and he trembled and twitched.

You loved it. But you wanted to take him by surprise and finally listen to that intrusive thought as you pulled him out, took him way back to the base and then out again. You licked the side of his dick, extracted your fangs and dug them into the meat.

“N–no! Fuck, fuck!” Leon cried out, quickly entangling his fingers into your hair as pain overrode his pleasure and he clenched his eyes shut. The stinging was almost too much to bare on such a sensitive area, it was like plucking hair on his balls. He pulled at your hair in return but you were latched on, moaning against his flesh. You were just addicted to the taste, it was indescribable. But at the same time, you felt ws though you genuinely liked him and you didn’t to cause him too much pain you did.

Unhooking your mouth, you lapped at the blood as his grip relaxed a little bit but tears were imbedded into his lashline as he shuddered. You cooed softly, moving back up and situating yourself onto his lap.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you… you just taste so good,” You whispered, lacking sincerity as you kissed away his tears and he sniffled, cock semi-hard but throbbing at your touch. “I’ll make you feel so good now, you get that? C’mon, talk to me.”

“…Okay… alright just… no more biting, please.”

You laughed, licking any residue off your lips. He’s crazy if he thought you’d ever stop, you’d gotten a taste and you were hooked. He should stop feeling sorry for himself because you’re the victim here! You haven’t had a meal in ages, yet he feeds himself every nighr. You scoffed at the mere thought of humans.

“Mm, maybe. I’ll think about it.” You murmured, kissing along his jawline. “Are you a virgin, Leon?”

He flushed, pinkness coating the bridge of his nose as he turned his gaze downcast. How embarrassing to have to admit himself. He nodded, but you loved that. He was pure, untouched. Waiting for the right one, for you.

“Knew you were just perfect.” You sighed, shimmying your pants off until you were in your underwear. Basic nanny jammies, you don’t go shopping often. You’re a wacko, your routine is just sleep and work. Leon glanced at them, it was a little funny but so was the fact that he was nearing his thirties and still a virgin. His breath hitched when you sandwiched his thick cock between your folds through the cotton material, so soaked your pussy pressed straight through.

“Oh, God. You’re soaked.” Leon murmured in awe, his big hands moving to grasp your hips and pull you into that front and backwards movement at a faster pace. Your clit constantly being stimulated made your eyebrows arch inwards as a series of moans joined upon his. You nodded along, he had that effect on you. “Fuck, please. I need to feel you.”

He was begging? That’s cute. Your eyes were half-lidded, pleasure had a tendency to making you a bit dozy. So did good blood. You’ve had a fucking feast and the bite marks all over his body and his dick were satisfying, like an artist painting a blank canvas. You slipped your panties to the side, grinding the tip against your entrance until he was writhing.

Then slowly, you sank down. The stretch took you a little by surprise, eliciting a small gasp as your gummy walls clenched around his cock the further you went. He threw his head back, panting hard as you officially took his virginity. You didn’t give yourself time to adjust, grinding and bouncing on his lap as he squirmed and sobbed hoarsely, you didn’t think he could look so pathetic.

“Feels good, hm?” You asked, kissing down the column of his neck and sinking your fangs into it again. At the same time, you had tightened up when his blood oozed into your mouth making him groan and buck his hips, the pain mixing with pleasure God he was feeling too much at once. The base of his dick felt immediate pressure that just wanted to burst.

He nodded, and nodded. You were such a crazy bitch but your pussy was good, though he was dizzy. You were gonna kill him if you took anymore blood, but you were selfish and he felt like he was too. Then you took him away completely when you moved your hips in a circular motion, your ass rubbing against his balls making him twitch uncontrollably.

“Fuck… I—I’m cumming—“ Leon whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as you forced an orgasm out of him — it was all too much for him to bare and you sighed in satisfaction, his cum squirting inside you until you convulsed and reached your high. Milky droplets of orgasm slipping down his cock as he passed out and you sniffed along him, the musk of his sweat was nice.

“Mm, I’m keeping you.”

lord, that was long. thank you to anyone who reads and anyone who reblogs/comments ❤️

[jamiefartt]

run the world; part one.

masterlist, part 2.

pairings: Jamie Tartt x reader, a bit of Sam Obisanya x reader.

summary: as the striker for AFC Richmond's very first women's team, the pressure is on. you're desperate to bond with the men's team, especially their number 9. so when your captains make you two train together, you find special ways to make it fun for both of you.

words: 10.6k

warnings: mean Jamie obvi, no smut but def some sexual jokes and tension, alcohol and chugging but nothing gross.

———

metal studs click against the ground as you bounce on the balls of your feet. stretching your neck, you look down at your blue boots before craning your neck back up, eyes gliding over the number 8 in front of you and moving towards the ceiling. the dugout is hot and tense, shoulders grazing those of the opposing team. Manchester United's red and yellow kit starkly contrasts the pink and purple of yours, and while their socks are black, yours are a bright white. you bring your right hand up to your chest, rubbing small circles as you try soothing your heart. sliding it down, you trace the large letters printed on the front of your shirt; KBPR. loud music plays over the speakers of Nelson Road Stadium, and you try make out the words over the screams of the crowds. you take a few more deep breaths before suddenly, you're feet are carrying you on to the pitch as if on autopilot. 

facing forward, you almost get lost in the swing of the ponytail in front of you, shaking your head and clapping your hands together, forcing your mind into focus. the crowd's cheers tenfold the more players appear from the tunnel, and you look around at the sea of colours in the crowd. you spot a lot of Richmond's bantr branded jerseys in the sea of people, appreciating their effort to support your team despite repping the wrong colours. 

"let's go ladies!" you hear someone roar beside you as you approach the middle of the pitch. your head snaps to your left, finding the source of the encouragement. Isaac McAdoo, Richmond men's captain, is leaning over the side screen next to the pitch, borderline folding his torso over it with two fists in the air. next to him, all the Richmond boys line the sideline, all dressed in the women's kit. they clap, cheer, and holler for you all as you make your way to the center circle, stopping right before it to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. 

as much as you want to wave to the guys, you're too in your zone, having gotten into game mode in the dugout. you take a few more deep breaths, looking straight ahead of you with a stone cold expression on your face. you look directly at Roy, your team's manager, who matches your demeanor. the teams are introduced, and you take in the crowd's encouragement when Richmond is called out. once dismissed from the line up, you drop to your position in the centre of the pitch. you roll your right sock midway down your shin before pulling the left one up and over your knee, ready to use your right foot to carry your team to victory. 

your head goes quiet as you take deep breaths, ignoring the players in front of you, faces and sounds blurring in your mind as you become completely calm. looking around, everyone's faces become unrecognisable as your brain stops registering them, full focus on the ball currently being carried towards you. your team captain, Gia, holds the ball towards you, clearly having won the coin toss. her face is the only one you can decipher, and she smiles at you despite your inability to return the gesture with the cold expression that comes from your focus.

"fucking kill 'em." she mutters to you, pushing the ball into your hands. you give her a curt nod as you watch her features merge together into an indistinguishable blur. the only thing you can see is the ball, which you place firmly at your feet, and the goal miles away from you. twisting the football into the grass, you take one last deep breath, anxiously awaiting the referee's whistle to signal your cue to kick off the match. in your mind, the stadium goes quiet, even though you know the noise is still deafening. to you, all that matters is the football, your feet, and your role in the team. it's one of your biggest matches of the season, and in order to keep your position as striker you need to impress. Roy trusts you, and knows you can do it, but more often than not your nerves get the best of you, and that way you find it hard to trust yourself.

the first whistle blows, then the halftime whistle, and eventually the final whistle rings through your ears as the crowd roars. you sprint to the side of the pitch, heading straight for Roy as you scream. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and his hand smacks your back. you let go and turn around, Gia running straight into you and holding you tight. as she hugs you, you feel more and more arms press around your frame as your teammates come in for a group hug. the supporters chant and shout for your team, celebrating your 3-2 win. it was tight, and the result was set to be a tie until you scored on a whim in injury time. 

you and the girls jump up and down, studs tapping the ground rhythmically as they chant your name. cackling with a loud grin on your face, you're well aware of how hard you're blushing at the praise and attention. you've redeemed your position on the team, knowing you'll be safe as number nine for the rest of the season. 

when the pressure around your shoulders loosens, you let go of Gia and lean forward, hands on your knees as you take a few deep breaths. you feel hands slap your back and shoulders in celebration, and the odd hand on your ass as a joke from your friends. your eyes are glued to the grass, noticing how each blade points in a different direction. you notice where they've been flattened by studded boots, how they move in the wind, and even the angle at which they've been cut. 

a firm hand on your shoulder interrupts your thinking, and your attention returns to the actual matters at hand. lifting your head, you blink a few times to bring your mind back to the pitch. it's Roy, who silently nods towards the dugout, signaling you to head to the locker room. standing up straight, you huff a sigh before letting an ecstatic smile return to your face. jogging to catch up with your team, you place your hands on Gia's shoulders and hop into the air. the two of you laugh together as the team continues their celebratory shouting all the way to your changing room. 

the noise echoes through the stairway as you all flood upstairs, clapping each other on the back and hugging. once you're all in the dressing room, it doesn't stop. you all huddle in the middle of the room and jump up and down as you chant: "we're Richmond till we die! we're Richmond till we die! we know we are, we're sure we are, we're Richmond till we die!" 

you're the first to notice the new presence in the room as you stop singing and tap the shoulders of the teammates around you. "guys, guys," you say, trying to get them to turn their attention to Rebecca and Keeley who have just walked in behind Roy. with a satisfied smile on her face, Rebecca winks at you, and you swear your heart almost stops beating in your chest. 

"oi!" Roy shouts, finally gaining the attention of the team. he says nothing else, simply cocking his head towards the two women next to him.

"hello ladies," Rebecca says, contentment evident in her voice as well as her expression.

"girls!" Keeley squeals, "you were fucking phenomenal!" she screams as she claps her hands, and everyone immediately matches her energy, clapping and cheering with her.

"yes, indeed," Rebecca interrupts the celebration, "you were all absolutely amazing!" 

Keeley continues, smiling up at Rebecca; "which is why we've brought you guys a present... boys, come on in!" 

one by one, the Richmond men's team file into the room; Isaac at the front, carrying a bucket of beer bottles, and the rest of the team behind him. they all crowd into the room, and suddenly the spacious changing room starts to feel cramped. you're even a tad embarrassed; you've just come off the pitch so you're sweaty and tired, and your hair is barely even tied up in its elastic anymore. brushing down your shirt, you quickly tighten your ponytail and flatten the top, hoping you look even slightly presentable for the guys. it's not that you want to impress them, but you can't say they're particularly unattractive, so you do your best to smile nicely and stand up straight. 

looking down at your feet, you quickly adjust your socks, pushing them both down to the edge of your boots. when you flick your head back up, your eyes meet those of one of the men in front of you. you recognise him immediately; he's Jamie Tartt, Richmond's star striker. of course, you wouldn't dare keep your eyes on him, so you look away quickly. you share a number with him, but you're nowhere near his level at the game.

"girls, I feel like I can confidently say that you all made AFC Richmond incredibly proud today," Isaac begins, booming voice commanding the room, "and we thought that should be celebrated our way!" he drops the bucket of drink at his feet before taking a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. Gia runs towards him, standing in front of the bucket and holding her hands out to stop the girls from approaching.

"wait!" she shouts, "first, a drink for the woman of the match..." a few people's heads turn towards you as you stand with a cheeky grin on your face, knowing it's you. you wouldn't say you're necessarily a cocky person, but you're pretty sure your goal today will go down as one of your best. your captain continues; "y/n! come up here, bitch!" 

you stride towards her and Isaac hands you a bottle. easily twisting off the cap with your hand, the girls ooh and aah as you wink at them. they all clap and yell as you chug as much as you can. with a grimace on your face, you shake your head, struggling to swallow the cheap beer. one of the guys smacks your shoulder and you hear him laugh, but your eyes are screwed shut tight as you drink even more, so you can't see who it is. when the last drop of the bottle is drained, you turn it upside down in front of you, nothing spilling out. Gia is the first to go crazy, jumping onto your back and cheering. the whole room erupts in shouts and whoops, and you can feel the beer fizz in your stomach as you laugh. you carry Gia away from the bucket, and everyone rushes forward, reaching for a bottle and cracking them open for each other. you pass on a second beer for now, craving nothing but water after all the excitement. 

as much as you share a building, you don't often cross paths with Richmond's men's team. you've been to a few of their games, though, Gia insisting all of you go to show your support, but you've never met them face to face. as you stand off to the side of the crowd, you drag your eyes across them, noticing the height disparities, the flashing smiles, and some of the most beautiful hair you've ever seen. interrupting your thoughts, Isaac lifts his bottle into the air, and shouting: "to Richmond!" everyone repeats him, lifting their drinks in the air before cheering.

as everyone turns to each other and dive into their own conversations, the divide between your team and the men's shrinks as they all start to mingle. smiling at the sight, you move to the left of the room towards your assigned cabinet. bringing your right foot onto the bench, you lean forward to untie your laces. as you swap legs and pull the laces on your right foot, you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

"y/l/n?" the voice is gruff and deep, their hand still holding your shoulder as you stand up straight. you turn your head, immediately smiling at the sight of Isaac.

"Isaac!" you laugh, lifting an arm as you beckon for a hug. he wraps an arm over your shoulder, clapping your back as you embrace.

"congratulations, bruv. you fucking smashed it," he says with an uncharacteristically wide grin. you smile back at him, a humble expression on your face at his kind words. you fold your hands over the navy Richmond crest on your shirt; "all thanks to Keeley and Rebecca," 

"they've done a good job with you lot," he nods, crossing his arms over his chest, "I want you to meet someone." 

he nods his head to the side, and your eyes follow the direction before landing on Sam Obisanya. standing behind his captain with his arms folded politely behind his back, his wide grin is infectious. he bows slightly forward and says: "it's so lovely to meet you, y/n. I'm Sam," 

your smile grows at his sweet tone as you wave a hand in greeting; "hi Sam! I'm y/n, but I guess you already know that," he laughs at your words, and you feel compelled to do the same. 

"I'll leave you two to chat." Isaac interjects, slapping a hand on Sam's back and pushing him closer to you. Sam winces through a smile, chuckling nervously at the set-up. with his captain at a fair distance from the two of you, he relaxes a bit more.

"you were so good out there," he says genuinely, eyes locked firmly on yours.

"thank you so much, that means a lot coming from you." 

"really?" his grin morphs into a smirk, "how come?"

you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks; "I mean, I've seen you play -- you're such a key player for Richmond. you're assist against Chelsea last month was fucking incredible! you make it look so fun and effortless..." you stop talking mid-ramble, noticing how you're supposed to be pretending you've just met him, not like you've been to every match he's ever played.

"thank you, y/n, I really appreciate it. when you play, it's hard to watch anybody else on that pitch."

his words stun you, and all you can do is blink up at him in disbelief. the genuine smile on his face accompanies his sentiment, warming your heart. you're not sure what to say, so you glance down at the ground as you try to subdue the blush on your cheeks with a few deep breaths. "how come you guys came to this match?" you ask, desperate to change the topic.

"Ted said it would be good to bond the two teams a bit more, and I agree! you know, I always wanted to come to one of the women's matches but couldn't find anybody to come with me. that's why tonight, to celebration for your win, I'm hosting everyone at my restaurant with an open bar!" 

"Oh woah, Sam that's so generous. you really don't have to do that," you smile at him again, and his bright smile is fixed as he waves his hand and tsks; "don't worry about it. I love having people at Ola's, especially my team, so why not include you guys- or girls, whatever." 

the two of you share a laugh again, and you find your heart skipping a beat every time you hear the sound escape Sam's lips. your gaze drops from his as you flick your eyes past him, only to see Jamie staring at you from across the room. you don't linger, just look back at Sam to continue talking, but you find it hard to fully listen to him when you can now feel the other man's eyes burning into your face. subconsciously, your hands come back up to your ponytail, making sure the hairs are as tidy as you can get them in your post-game state. why is Jamie Tartt looking at you? 

once everyone's finished their beers, you say goodbye to Sam and the other players before all heading for the showers. you let cold water cascade down your back, goosebumps covering your whole body at the feeling. the shower room is steamy and scorching hot, and the contrast between the air and your water temperature brings a certain peace to your mind. you and your teammates laugh and chatter around you, making fun of the opposition and talking about the guys who came to celebrate with you. with your eyes closed, you let the water hit your face, and it cools the nerves talking to Sam gave you. 

his smile could light up an entire stadium, and he's so kind and chivalrous. he's the only Richmond men's player you've actually ever noticed around the building since he always smiles at everyone. you've seen him laughing and talking with the most random people in the hallway, from the secretary to physiotherapist. you try to do the same, saying hello and goodbye to everyone you pass everyday, and you're pretty sure people appreciate you for it. but Sam seems to genuinely have a place in his heart for everyone, especially the fans. you've seen him interact with them before and after matches, and it's not that you always keep to yourself, you just know there's a zone you need to be in to be able to play football the best you can, and that zone doesn't include other people. 

after your shower, you get changed into a simple pair of blue jeans and a white blouse, some mascara highlighting your eyelashes. if it was up to you, you would be leaving Nelson Road the same way you arrived; in your Richmond branded tracksuit. but when Gia saw you reach for the purple joggers her eyes shot you daggers, so you grabbed the extra outfit she instructs you all bring to every match. "you never know where you'll end up." she always says, and you all oblige. you can't complain though, Gia is your best friend, both at Richmond and in your daily life. you share a place in town, a cozy but spacious attached home, and you wouldn't have it any other way. you all voted her as captain because of her open mind and her free-spirited approach to football. she doesn't see it as a job, she still sees it as a hobby, and it's how she succeeds. having fun is the key to everything in her life, and as much as you wish you were like that, you put way too much pressure on yourself. it used to be fun for you, a hobby you get to do professionally, but you feel more and more disconnected from that with every game.

you drop into her passenger seat, throwing your bag on the backseat behind you. without asking, you connect your phone to her car's bluetooth and turn on your shared playlist. Gia gets comfortable in the driver's seat as you press shuffle, and the two of you squeal when your favourite Justin Bieber song starts playing. the bass pumps through the car as she pulls out of the Richmond gates, heading to Sam's restaurant. both of you sing along loudly to the music, and you direct the lyrics towards her in a dramatic lip sync. it's easy to laugh with Gia, and you're grateful for the friendship you built with her before coming to Richmond. having grown up together, she got you into football, and eventually you both climbed up the same ladders to get to the same premier league team. if you hadn't had Gia in the beginning stages of the development of Richmond's women's team, you're not too sure you would have made it past the first qualification rounds. but thankfully, she's always been there to cheer you up and lift your spirit, reminding you constantly to try to enjoy football, not fear it.

she turns down the next song, and you groan in frustration; "I like this song!" you whine. 

"I saw you talking to Sam in the dressing room," she teases, ignoring your annoyance. 

"yeah... Isaac introduced us. have you ever spoken to him? he's so unbelievably friendly, I genuinely can't imagine him ever getting angry."

Gia huffs, shaking her head with a chuckle before responding: "you haven't seen him with Mister Jamie Tartt. he can seriously get on his nerves. Isaac tells me about it sometimes and Sam doesn't let Jamie off easily," 

"well I think your boyfriend was trying to set us up, and I didn't appreciate it."

"yup! he definitely was..." Gia laughs as you roll your eyes. Isaac and Gia have been together since last season, before you had even played any matches. when she was elected captain, Roy thought it would be good to have the two meet and get close, just in case they needed any advice from each other down the line. at first, they would meet for weekly coffees, and soon enough he would be sitting on your sofa when you and Gia came home from late night trainings. 

"Sam is lovely, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if we mesh romantically, you know?" you say, looking out the window at setting sun over the brick buildings of Richmond.

"why not? Isaac told me Sam's had a bit of a crush on you for quite a while, so..."

you snap your head around to look at Gia; "he what?"

"yeah... I mean, from what Isaac tells me, he loves watching you train. he often comes to watch us with Isaac when they're on break or whatever," Gia shrugs casually, and you look at her with wide eyes. 

"why didn't you tell me this earlier? I had no idea he was watching! I didn't even think he knew me before today! God, that's so embarrassing, Gia..." you groan, rubbing your hands down your cheeks dramatically.

"what?! it's fine, y/n, look- I just wanted you to meet him first. if you didn't click I wouldn't be telling this," 

"how do you know if we clicked?"

"babe," she states curtly, "I saw you blushing and rambling. it was so cute! he walked away with such a big smile," 

"oh my God! shut up!" you exclaim, turning towards the window to hide how red you're going. with a deep sigh, you shake your head, and Gia leaves you alone with your thoughts as she keeps the music low. Sam is amazing -- he's a genuinely lovely guy, and a great footballer. admittedly, he made you blush, and smile, and feel all fuzzy inside. but your mind can't help but drift to the dark blue eyes you kept meeting across the room.

pulling into a parking spot one street down from the restaurant, the music stops suddenly as Gia stops the car, and you're pulled from your thinking. "come on," Gia says, "it's gonna be so much fun! you need to talk to Sam some more." rolling your eyes, you push your door open. you hop out of the car with an excited smile, looking forward to celebrate with your team. 

as you start walking up the street towards Ola's, you ask Gia: "do you reckon Jamie will be there?"

Gia's head snaps up to look at you, and her brow furrows in confusion as she scans your face for any ounce of humour. your face stays neutral, however, as you try your hardest to look inconspicuous. "uh- I'm not sure... why?" Gia asks you hesitantly. 

"just wondering," you shrug, avoiding her gaze.

"y/n," she stops walking, grabbing your elbow to hold you back, "do you have a thing for Jamie? oh my god, is that why you don't wanna pursue things with Sam?" 

shaking your head, you shrug again; "I'm not planning anything with him, Gia, chill." you try your best at a reassuring tone, and hope it goes unnoticed. her eyes are skeptical as she squints at you, her hand still holding your elbow. "I just think I should meet him since we play the same position! he's kind of a legend in the making, you have to admit," you continue.

"fine," Gia sighs and drops her hand, "just don't break Sam's heart, okay?" 

"relax, Gia, I promise I can keep it in my pants," you crack a smile as she chuckles, and soon enough you're both laughing out loud. Jamie is attractive, sure, but his whatever he was wearing today took away some of his points. an orange top with a black puffer bodywarmer, paired with a cap with 'ICON' written across it? please.

the red corner building comes into view as your laughter dies down, and the warm light from inside illuminates the footpath. faint music and chatter hum through an open window, and suddenly your chest feels warm before you've even entered the restaurant. the reason you're here tonight is your team, and your win, and you. tonight is a celebration of your team's win, and it's a chance for you and the girls to accept praise and compliments galore. contextualising the reason you're here makes you comfortable in the fact that this isn't work, this isn't football, and there's no pressure on you whilst you're here. pushing open the door and moving past the curtain in front of it, the air isn't heavy, instead it's warm and full of admiration. 

the bell above the door dings as you enter, attracting the attention of the people closest to the entrance. when their eyes fall on you and Gia, they smile, clap, and even cheer. a blush appears across your cheeks instantly, but you're able to play it off as you hide your face in your teammates' shoulders when they hug you. you laugh with them, the stress you were putting on yourself quickly dissipating with every kind smile someone gives you. you move further into the restaurant, waving at Roy and your coaches. you move over to Keeley, Rebecca, and Barbara as you say hi to each of them with a kiss on the cheek; "very European," Keeley comments. with a laugh, you walk to the back of the room, eager for a celebratory drink. 

"just a gin and tonic please," you say to the waiter with a smile. leaning an elbow on the bar, you turn to the side, facing the kitchen. between the shelves, you spot Sam talking to one of his employees. you smile as you watch him, now noticing how smart he looks in his dark purple shirt. feeling your eyes on him, he turns to face you, a wide grin growing on his face at the sight of you. interrupting his own conversation, he appears from the kitchen, folding his hands together as he approaches you.

"y/n! long time, no see!" he jokes, and you share a laugh. you thank the waitress as she places your drink on the bar, and Sam's grin softens to a content smile. 

"I like your shirt," you say.

"oh, thank you! I wore it to match your kit." his statement is simple, but feels big. the effort doesn't go unnoticed by you as your lips part slightly, looking at him through your lashes as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "you pay very good attention," you note, patting a hand on his chest, instantly feeling how hard it is. it's too late to hide your surprised expression at the feeling of his taut muscles, and you look at Sam with slight panic in your eyes at your reaction. to save you the embarrassment, he throws his head back with a cackle; "did you forget I'm also a footballer, y/n?"

you shake your head and laugh along with him; "whatever, let's go grab a seat."

Sam nods at you, still chuckling to himself when you start walking towards Isaac and Gia at a table towards the far-side of the restaurant. with Sam following behind you, you wave at a few more of your teammates as you pass them. Gia smiles brightly as you approach, as she raises her eyebrows suggestively, you widen your eyes at her with a shy expression, silently telling her to shut up. you sit down next to her and Sam beside Isaac across from you. as you're taking a nervous sip of your drink, you feel a hand tap your thigh, glancing at Gia with a knowing smile before pushing her hand away. chuckling to yourself, you place an elbow on the table and rest your chin in your palm. 

"did you enjoy the match, Isaac?" you ask, making sure you bare your sweetest smile, knowing Sam is watching you.

"of course, bruv. it's great watching you two do your thing on the pitch. I'm just glad I got to bring the lads to this one," slapping a hand to Sam's shoulder, he shakes him a bit. Sam laughs, and your eyes find his again. as outgoing as he is, when he looks at you, he goes so shy and nervous. it's endearing, but it feels like something is missing between you. there's a few butterflies, but there's no tension, no chase. if you're going to dive back into the dating pool after your shitty ex, you want something exciting and electric to start with. maybe Sam can still surprise you, it's still early in your night together. 

"y/n, I was just telling Isaac about that one bitchy player who tackled you during the game. she was so nice to us before!" Gia starts, and then the conversation takes off. the combination of alcohol and Sam's kind smile warms your chest, and you finally start to relax into the space as the chat flows between the four of you. the restaurant is cozy, dim lighting hiding the permanent blush on your cheeks, and when glancing over at Sam every now and then, you realise just how attractive he is. when his smile is replaced by a listening look, his other features catch your eye. his dark eyes are so focused on Gia as she speaks, respect pouring out of them as he hangs on to her every which word. despite his almost constant smiling, he doesn't have a smile line or wrinkle set in his perfect skin. his cheeks look soft, not too chiseled or sharp, and you imagine placing a soft kiss on them when he drops you off at your door after a hypothetical date. letting your eyes drop to his lips, you notice the hint of pink between them, and continue your daydream to imagine kissing his soft lips after this made-up date. 

your thoughts are interrupted when his lips open to a big smile again as he laughs at something Isaac says, and you quickly smile and chuckle, hoping you weren't caught staring. glancing around nervously, you look out the window to the street, before looking around the restaurant. you recognise basically everyone, but haven't spoken to many of the other Richmond players yet. as much as you're enjoying getting to know Sam, you're intrigued by some of the other men's team members. you look towards the busier side of the restaurant, watching as the Richmond guys all laugh and talk to each other, clearly having a bond worth many years of playing together. during the training rounds for your team, you idolised these men, trying to find out what exactly Richmond was looking for. you studied their matches and plays, and had to try very hard not to freak out when you first met Roy Kent. spotting him sitting at a round table behind Isaac, you notice him speaking to someone next to him. when you look at who that is, your eyes meet Jamie Tartt's. 

despite Roy clearly speaking to him, Jamie's focused on you. you want to tear your eyes away, but something keeps them locked on his. he's slumped back in his chair, one hand on the table and the other resting on his thigh. you drag your eyes down his frame; he's still wearing that stupid orange outfit, but you can now make out the deep line across his bicep beneath the tight fabric of his shirt. when your eyes drop down to where his hand rests on his leg, you notice how his jeans hug his bulging thighs. lips parted, you blink yourself back to the conversation going on at your table, quickly looking away from Jamie and clearing your throat subtly. you adjust in your seat, flattening nonexistent creases in your blouse before going to take another sip of your drink, only to realise your glass is completely empty.

"be right back," you whisper to Sam, careful not to interrupt Gia's story as you stand up from your seat. brushing past Sam, you touch your hand to his shoulder. he smiles up at you and when you walk away, you make sure your hips sway that little bit more than usual, hoping he's watching. you beeline for the bar, not stopping to speak to anybody as you pass them, despite the many smiles and waves from friends and familiar faces. placing your glass on the bar, you wait for the waitress to appear. instinctively, you pull your phone from your pocket, checking its notifications. 

"well done today," someone speaks next to you.

"thank you-" you begin, looking up from your phone and slowing your sentence halfway. the Jamie Tartt leans forward on the bar, resting on his elbows as he looks you directly in the eye. the small smile that had appeared at the compliment immediately drops, and you blink slowly as you process his sudden presence. 

"should I be worried about my reputation as Richmond's best striker?"

"what?" you furrow your eyebrows at him, immediately hearing his mocking tone. 

"as much as I love the whole girl-power thing you've got goin' on, I hope it don't fuck with my status." 

you gawk at him, jaw slack at his obnoxious statement; "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I mean-" 

"what can I get you two?" the waitress returns to the bar. interrupting Jamie.

"I'll have another gin and tonic, please, and you can be generous with the gin." you say, smiling sweetly. when she turns to Jamie, he shakes his head silently, before standing up straight and facing you. 

"I mean..." he tries again, "if the press start calling you Richmond's star striker, I'm gonna have to have a serious chat with coach Kent," 

it's impossible to wipe the unimpressed look off your face, staring at him with raised eyebrows and a grimace. you can't believe what he just said to you, and his behaviour is seriously unexpected. sure, you'd seen his cocky press junkets and shitty attitude in the media a year or two ago, but you were under the impression he'd changed since then. you'd spent the last few months studying his football, his plays and techniques burnt into your brain from how often you'd watched his highlights on repeat. the mixed messages confuse you, and your urge to bond with players you admired so much suddenly vanishes. 

"never meet your heroes, I guess," you mutter to yourself, taking a sip of your drink as you move to return to Sam. 

"Tartt," a deep voice huffs, and suddenly a wall of black appears in front of you, stopping you from leaving. tilting your head up, you see Roy, chest puffed and arms crossed as he stares at Jamie.

"ah, speak of the devil," Jamie says with a fake smile. rolling your eyes at him, you want nothing but to go back to the lovely man waiting for you at your table. instead, Roy puts his hand on your shoulder and guides you back in front of Jamie. 

"were you bothering my striker, Tartt?" Roy grumbles, keeping his hand on you. Jamie huffs before pouting, throwing in an eye roll to piss you off just that little bit more. you feel like a child on the playground, your teacher making you stand in front of the mean girl as he waits for you to make up. 

"you're striker?" Jamie spits, "I was here first, ya'know." his belittling tone makes your drink taste the bad kind of sour, and all you can do is sigh, waiting for the moment Roy dismisses you and you can go back to Sam. 

"it's not about who was here first, it's about who's more respectful, and that will never be you." Roy states, confidently putting Jamie in his place. he holds his fist up towards you, and you bump your knuckles with his before pushing past him, finally walking back to your seat.

"what the fuck, Roy-" you hear Jamie start to sputter at him, but you quickly tune it out when your eyes fall on Sam's again. with your eyebrows still raised in shock, you slide back into your seat. 

"are you alright, y/n?" Sam asks, concern painting over his face when you don't return his smile. 

"what's that about?" Gia says as she stares at Roy and Jamie bickering by the bar.

with a deep sigh, you shake your head; "fuck knows... has Jamie always been such a dick?" you ask the table. Sam nods at the same time as Isaac shakes his head, and you and Gia look at each other completely confused. 

"nah bruv, he's gotten so much better," Isaac says to Sam before chugging some of his beer.

"eh, I don't know about that," Sam replies as he raises his eyebrows, "he's learnt how to play as a team, but outside of football he still doesn't talk much."

"he's different with Isaac, though, right?" Gia asks, her boyfriend blinking at her a few times before turning to you. "he's a good guy..." he takes a deep breath before continuing, "when he wants to be," Isaac smacks Sam on the back, laughing loudly. Sam glances up at you with a shy grin, but your face screams unimpressed at the joking about his shitty behaviour. 

the night continues smoothly, with no more Jamie staining your celebrations. after your conversation at the bar, Roy kept him well away from you. you get to know Sam some more, before chatting with your teammates and meeting some of the men's team. Roy even apologises for Jamie's behaviour, but you shrug it off; "footballers, innit," you say, and Roy laughs and nods in agreement. your whole interaction with Jamie was so confusing, and completely unexpected. you'd hoped him being a dick on the pitch didn't translate to outside of the stadium, and to others it didn't, but he didn't seem to hold back when it came to you. the restaurant starts clearing out around 10pm, people needing their rest after the big match. you and Gia wait around until you're the last ones there, and your nerves suddenly set in as you realise there may be some implications between you and Sam. 

"Isaac's coming home with me, by the way," Gia says, locking her arm with Isaac's. she looks at you with her eyes widened, jaw clenched as she darts her eyes towards Sam. you sigh and drop your lids for effect; "Sam, this was amazing, and thank you so much for hosting the team. I would stay for another drink with you but," you force a yawn as you wave your hand in front of your face, "I'm just so exhausted after the game, you know how it is..." 

"ah, okay," Sam starts, rubbing his palms together as his disappointment gets concealed under a kind smile, "get your rest, y/n- and you too, Gia, of course." 

when you're finally back in Gia's car -- squished into the backseat with Isaac in front of you in the passenger seat -- she refuses to start the car. 

"what do you mean you're tired?!" she yells at you, the small car making the noise ten times louder. you smack her arm; "shut up! what's your problem?!" you shout back.

"I think he wanted to get to know you a bit more..." Isaac urges.

"ugh! I have nothing more to say! we've basically gotten to know everything about each other already," you complain, and Gia looks at you with one eyebrow raised. "you're so annoying. why don't you ever let me wingman you?" she finally turns the key in the ignition, pulling out of her parking spot and starting down the road. 

"just leave me alone," you mutter, fishing your headphones out of your gym bag and putting them over your ears. like a grumpy teenager, you play your music loud to shut out the sound of Gia and Isaac talking, leaning on the window beside you as you look out at the passing cars. your mind can't help but drift to Jamie again, still upset by his mean tone towards you. according to Isaac, he's apparently 'gotten better', whatever that's supposed to mean. because to you, he just seems like the same old egotistical prick like when he first came to Richmond on loan from Man City. even when he played in blue you respected him as a footballer, and were actually quite excited to see him come to help an underdog team. 

when Gia finally turns into your road, the recognisable row of houses coming into your view, you pull your headphones off. "I don't think that's a good idea," Gia sighs, but Isaac protests; "no, I swear, I think it'll work." 

"what will work?" you ask, unclicking your seatbelt and leaning between the two of them as Gia pulls into your driveway.

"jesus, y/n, you're gonna give me a heart attack," Isaac groans, holding a hand to his chest. 

they ignore your question, and you let it go, eager to get inside to your big warm bed. the second the car stops, you jump out, speeding to your front door. you unlock it, slipping inside and quickly taking off your shoes at the doormat. almost slipping on the hardwood floors, you run to the stairs, sprinting up to the next floor and straight into your big bedroom. luckily enough, your house has one bedroom downstairs and another upstairs, both with bathrooms on each floor, allowing you to have your own space. you wouldn't mind sharing with Gia, and you actually both slept downstairs for the first week of you living here. you would never admit it to anyone else, but you were a bit scared of how high the ceilings of the upstairs bedroom reached, especially considering the attic above it to which you didn't have any access. 

you close the door and press your back into it, tipping your head back and sighing, eyes closed. dropping your bag at your feet, you dig your phone out of your pocket, seeing texts in your family group chat congratulating you on your win. you thank them in reply before getting ready for bed. finally nestled in the duvet, you scroll through your phone, mindlessly switching between tiktok and instagram as you only half-absorb everything you see. that is, until a press junket with Roy, Jamie, and Sam, pops up on your for you page. Sam's smiling face makes your cheeks warm, his smile absolutely contagious. Jamie, however, looks fucking miserable. 

Roy is between them, calling on interviewers. "Jamie, on the heels of making your England debut, how does it feel to be named Premiere League Player of the Month?" one of them asks him off-camera. the Jamie you spoke to today would have been absolutely gassed by that question, but the Jamie on your screen doesn't seem as thrilled. Roy rolls his eyes, obviously expecting him to be a prick about the question, but instead, he gives a half-assed shrug. "uh-, ehm, yeah, yeah, it feels good, I guess. but it's really the team making me look good. so, I should be doing a better job of making them look good, really." your expression matches that of Roy and Sam on your screen, the shock evident on your face as you sit up in bed. he goes on to object his award, despite how much the other two big him up. 

the timid look on his face breaks your heart a little bit, and seeing the way his eyes seem to glaze over when he's not speaking makes you question whether he's the same man you met today. is this what Sam and Isaac were talking about? switching apps, you type his name into instagram, quickly finding his verified account. you scroll through his pictures, seeing mostly promo pictures for Richmond, or random brand deals he's done. there's nothing personal about his page, and his cocky pout in all of his pictures gives you the ick immediately. any vulnerability he had in that interview completely slips your mind as you sigh deeply, locking your phone and placing it next to your bed. you lay down again, closing your eyes and breathing deep, and right before you drift off, those dark blue eyes challenging you at the bar are the last thing you see before slipping into sleep.

you, Gia, and Isaac all pile into her car on monday morning, heading to Richmond for another day of training. "just to give you a heads up, y/n," Gia says as she starts the car, "we're trying something different at training today." you perk up, leaning forward to feel less like a third wheel between the couple. 

"oooh, what are you planning for us captain?"

"over the weekend, Isaac and I were discussing maybe combining our morning trainings with the guys? just to spice things up a little, you know?"

"yeah, because it's the middle of the season and everything, Gia and I thought we could use a little switch up just to make things more fun." Isaac adds.

"oh yeah! that's a great idea," you say, genuine excitement in your voice. Isaac stares at you with a furrowed brow, trying to sense any sarcasm in your tone, and Gia's silence proves she's thinking the same thing. "whatever you do, don't make me train with Tartt. if you can promise me that, then I'll try to have fun." your emphasis on the last word is only half-mocking -- you really do want to try to make football fun for you again. 

"y/n..." Gia trails off before taking a deep breath, "it's gonna be quite hard to train you both as strikers if you don't train together..."

"that's not true!" you protest, shaking your head with a confused face, "just make me striker for one half of the training team, and make him striker for the other, that way we won't have to interact." 

"right, until you play a game against each other," Isaac adds, "what then?" 

"then I'll just have to fucking destroy him." you huff, leaning back in your seat and peering out the window. maybe kicking Jamie's ass in training is what will make all of it a lot more fun. the grumpy expression on your face contradicts your thoughts, the image of an anxious Jamie replaying in your head. you can't seem to get his big, sad eyes out of your mind, his eyebrows knitted together in worry and discomfort. Roy and Sam seemed equally as surprised in the moment as you were watching the reupload last night, and seeing that different side of him makes you think that maybe today he'll be different than at your match on saturday. maybe he was just having a bad day.

"good mornin' dickhead. ready to get your arse kicked?" Jamie's smug face winks at you as you meet him in the hallway on your way to the training pitch. "hi Jamie," you respond with a flat, unamused tone; he wasn't just having a bad day then. both dressed in different colour training kits, the men's and women's team flood onto the grass, crowding in front of the coaches as they await an explanation for their joint training. Gia and Isaac step out of the large group of players and stand in front of them, ready to give their announcement. 

"so, here's the plan." Isaac's booming voice quiets the chattering players. you're already listening, of course, refusing to talk to Jamie who is still standing next to you. "psst," he leans closer to you, and you reflexively lean the other way, "do you think they're gonna make us tie a string from our dicks to your tits and make us play." with a disgusted grimace on your face, you side-eye him, catching a glimpse of his cocky grin. you roll your eyes, redirecting your attention to your captain. 

"Isaac and I have decided that we're all going to train together this morning, and in the afternoon, we split off again." Gia announces.

"the point of today is to get you guys to have fun with football. just for this morning, you can all forget about the upcoming men's match this friday, and the girls can recover after their amazing win last saturday!" the group all clap and cheer at Isaac's words, both in excitement for the next match, as well as in celebration of the last match. clapping and smiling along with the group, you nudge your shoulder to one of your teammate's next to you, temporarily forgetting about the annoying presence beside you. 

once everyone calms down again, Gia continues the pair's speech; "we're gonna start by having you all group up with everyone who plays your position. wingers with wingers, strikers with strikers, defenders with defenders, that kinda thing,"

your mouth drops, and you gawk at Gia who tries desperately to avoid your gaze, but eventually gives in. "I'm sorry," she mouths with a shrug, and your shocked expression turns into a bored one as you turn to face Jamie. with a smug smile on his face, he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek as you both cross your arms across your chest. 

"you've got to be fucking kidding me," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to calm yourself with a few deep breaths. when you look up again, Jamie is staring down at his feet, digging his studs into the grass. rolling your eyes, you turn to face Gia and Isaac again. everyone has grouped up, and you and Jamie seem to be the only pair. your brows furrow as you look around; "is there not even a second teamer than can join us? please, Gia," 

"nope," she pops her lips together as she says it, "you two are they only strikers." her voice is stern, and you narrow your eyes at her with a curt nod. "right..." you drawl as you stare at her, challenging her. her simple smile is unwavering, and she's clearly not giving this up. she cocks her head towards Jamie, who is still distracted by his own boots. sighing loudly, you untangle your arms to slap a hand to his, feeling his hard muscles through his long sleeve. the feeling surprises you, and you let yourself glance at his biceps, the taut fabric stretching over them. keeping the disgusted look on your face, you hope he doesn't notice you checking him out. when you lift your eyes, however, he's looking you straight in the eye. you jump at the sudden eye contact, frowning at his forwardness. 

"is there something on my arm?" he asks you, not taking his eyes off yours.

"no," you snap, and you hope the blush creeping up your cheeks is just because of the cold autumn air. 

"are you blushing?" 

"no, fuck off," you mutter, slapping his arm again as you turn your attention away from him. Gia and Isaac take turns explaining how today's training is organised, assigning different coaches to different groups. thankfully, Isaac gives Roy the responsibility of making sure you don't murder Jamie during your session. "alright, let's go!" Isaac shouts, Beard blowing his whistle. you stay rooted in place, trying your hardest to find it in you to actually go interact with Jamie. him and Roy are already making their way to the goal to the left of the pitch, footballs in hand. 

"good luck, y/n." Sam's voice appears, alongside a hand on your shoulder. you place your hand on his, smiling up at him meekly. "thank you, Sam... have fun!" his smile is warm and sympathetic, and you kind of appreciate the pity, it's more than Gia gave you. Sam's words give you the courage to finally move, slowly falling into a jog as you head towards the far side of the pitch. if the whole point of today was to have fun, why the fuck would they lump you and Jamie together with Roy as your peacekeeper?

"alright you two..." Roy says as you approach. you stand next to Jamie, leaving an obnoxious amount of distance between the two of you. Roy tosses you a bright orange football before continuing; "I've been told you need to be friends. I wouldn't have a fucking clue why since you're not even on the same team, but whatever. we're gonna keep it simple, you each take turns kicking the ball against the goalpost, whenever one of you fucks up and kicks it into the goal, you both get down and do fifteen push-ups. understood?" 

"so scoring a goal is bad? what is that supposed to teach us?" you ask.

"and if she fucks it, which she probably will, I have to do push-ups?" Jamie groans.

"yes." Roy says, a simple answer to two apparently-simple questions. 

"jesus christ," you and Jamie both mutter at the same time, making you both look at each other and roll your eyes, also at the exact same time.

you move toward the penalty spot to go first, ignoring how in sync you two seem to be, and the ball firmly at your feet. you push down you right sock before pulling the left as high up your leg as possible. taking a few steps back, you blow out a sharp breath before charging forward and kicking the ball, perfectly hitting the middle of the top goal post. Roy claps with a small smile on his face, and you look at him proudly. without a word, Jamie bumps into you as he places his ball down, quickly taking a shot, the ball smacking in exactly the same spot as yours had. you both jog to collect your footballs, and you decide to up the stakes. aiming for the top goal post again, you now kick the ball so it curves up high into the air before slowly dropping and bouncing off the right spot. Jamie wastes no time to copy you, even turning his back to the goal in a cocky manner, knowing he aimed it perfectly. he holds his hands up in the air as he slowly spins around, proud smile on his face. you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time, turning your head away from him to hide the way the corners of your mouth lift slightly at his bragging. pressing a hand into his chest, you push him out of the way for you to take your next kick, and you finally let the smile through. 

with a loud laugh, Jamie claps and whoops, pushing his fists into the air; "I did it! I made it laugh!" 

"it?!" you shout back, obviously offended.

"go on then, try something harder." he cocks his head towards the goal, biting down on his bottom lip as he grins at you. you run towards the ball and thrust your hip forward with as much might as you can muster, swinging your leg. the ball shoots at the goal, knocking off the top one before bouncing against the left post. "ha!" you shout as you turn to Jamie, pointing a finger at him, "watch out Tartt, I might be coming for your reputation," you mock his words from saturday evening, and he struggles to wipe the shock from his face. his lips are pouted with is eyebrows raised, head tipped forward as he looks between the ball, to the goal post, back to you. his jaw clenches, and you can see his sharp jawline jutting out before his adam's apple bobs up and down with a gulp. although it's mid-october, the skin of his neck is still sun kissed from summer, and you let your eyes drift down to the collar of his navy training top. even through the fabric, the muscles in his shoulders are defined, and the lines on his biceps are still showing without him needing to flex.

"what?" his voice snaps you out of your daze, dragging you back to the cold pitch. your cheeks feel hot again, and you do your best to look pissed off at him; "what?" you snarl back.

"you're staring at me." 

"no I'm not," you mutter, turning away from him and abruptly jogging toward the side of the pitch. as you run away from Jamie, you squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at yourself. what possessed you to just run away? grabbing your water bottle, you chug as much as you can in one go, taking a few deep breaths. "come on, y/n... focus," you mumble to yourself before walking back to the goal as casually as possible. 

neither Roy nor Jamie bring up your little trance, and you count yourself lucky since it would be pretty good ammo for Jamie to annoy you with. the two of you continue your competition, the smack of the ball against the goal becoming almost rhythmic as you don't waste any time to outdo each other with each turn. Jamie even takes it to the next level, moving to the middle between the penalty and the halfway line. from there, he attempts to hit to goal post, and you hold your breath as you watch the ball soar through the air. Jamie locks his hands behind his head, and you have to tear your eyes away from his arms yet again. the ball skims past the top post, missing it by mere centimetres, and you flinch as Jamie screams at the top of his lungs. you stare at him with wide eyes as he falls to his knees, keeping his hands behind his head as he plants his forehead into the grass. he groans and whines to himself dramatically, and you look to Roy. when you see him look equally as confused as you are, you find your feet carrying yourself towards a floored Jamie. 

"Jamie?" you ask with a soft voice, reaching a finger out and poking him in the back, "you okay?" 

"did I lose?" he asks, voice high pitched and cracking.

"Jamie, what the fuck? get up!" your tone is no longer gentle as you poke him harder and tapping your foot to his ass. he lets himself topple over, lying on the ground in fetal position, faking loud racking sobs. looking around you, you notice a few other footballers staring at you two, clearly concerned and confused. you crouch down, looking at him with your mouth drawn in a tight line, rubbing your hand over his arm. 

"Jamie, baby, should I get the medic?" you pout as you coo at him condescendingly, and the petname snaps him out of his dramatics. his face morphs from a cry to a disgusted look as he stares at you. you tilt your head to the side; "if you do these push-ups with me I'll let your mistake pass as a bit of fun." 

he jumps up almost immediately, jogging towards Roy before you can even stand up straight. getting down on his knees, he looks up at your coach and asks; "fifteen? why not twenty?" 

"fine." Roy grumbles and you look at him with a defeated look. "are you serious?" he shrugs at you as you whine, getting down on all fours in front of Jamie.

he smirks down at you, chuckling to himself as he contemplates his words for a few seconds; "you know, y/n, whenever I've imagined you in this position I'm usually behind you." 

his words knock the wind out of you, and you cough a few times as you sit up on your knees. you slap your hand on your chest as you clear your throat, completely shocked by the nerve of Jamie Tartt. throwing his head back, he laughs at your reaction, hand clutching his stomach as he struggles for air. Roy doesn't say a word, doesn't even laugh, just looks around waiting for you two to stop your antics. as Jamie recovers from his laughing fit, and you finally stop coughing, he keeps his eyes on you as he drops forward, planting his hands in the grass. "you know I'm just joking, yeah?" his words may be kind, but the brazen smirk on his face says otherwise. with a wink, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip before dropping his eyes to your lips briefly. your mouth opens slightly, his behaviour giving you absolute whiplash. he's teasing you, winding you up, but also flirting? you give your head a shake before putting your hands down again, keeping your eyes glued to the ground as you try to hide the blush inevitably making its way up your face. 

"okay, stop fucking around," Roy interrupts the flustered silence, watching as you and Jamie push up onto your feet, holding your body weight with your arms. he starts counting out loud, going painfully slow so you have to continue holding yourself up as you wait for him to say the next number. still facing the ground, you huff breaths out through your mouth, still persevering. glancing at Jamie, you look up through your eyelashes to see his strong arms flexing as he pumps up and down. his fingers clench, digging into the ground as he brings his chest all the way down, brushing the blades of grass without letting go of the push-up. the lines in his arms are impossibly deeper now, and you can see his shoulders bulging through his top. your jaw slack, you drag your eyes up to his neck, seeing the muscles strain in its sides. 

"y/n!" Roy shouts, making you jump and sag through your elbows a little before picking your weight back up. your head snaps up to look at Jamie, who's staring at you with an amused grin, eyes dark with his pupils blown wide; "you missed a count, love," he drawls, "too busy starin'?"

embarrassment takes over as you roll your lips and put your head down, arms starting to shake as your holding plank becomes almost unbearable. you just got caught staring at Jamie's muscles, again, by both him and Roy. all you want is to run inside, lock yourself in the bathroom, and never show your face. instead, you mumble a "sorry" and continue your push-ups in front of Jamie. as Roy starts counting again, you screw your eyes shut, swearing not to let them drift across Jamie's body ever again. you squeeze your eyes so hard you start seeing red specks float across your vision. Roy gets to eighteen, and your ears throb as your blood pumps quickly. your arms shiver under your weight as he counts excruciatingly slowly. but on number nineteen, your body suddenly tenses, feeling warmth on your right hand. you allow one eye to open, squinting down at your hand, only to see Jamie's fingers laying between yours.

———

NEW SERIES!! thank you so much for all the love on my last series! if you haven't read it yet, please check it out if you'd like to!

sorry for the big build up with Sam and everything, but I had to give you a reason to hate Jamie, didn't I? I'm really excited to write this, I'm all for longwinded tension ;p

[sunkiss3dlily]

to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1298

Summary: Joel would die for you and Ellie; that much was evident, but you only come to realise your true feelings for the man when you realise just how much you need him to live for you both, too.

Note(s): ANGST central for my first ever Joel fic!! I'm so excited to share this, and I hope it is just as exciting to read as it was to write! Any feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

His blood seeps into the creases of your palms as you desperately apply pressure to his stab wound, the coarse fabric of the cloth you found in your bag doing little to stem the flow. Joel writhes beneath you on the worn mattress, his pain evident in the way he clenches his teeth.

Tears blur your vision as you stumble through apologies, aware of Ellie's tearful gaze on your side profile. She hovers nearby, torn between worry and terror, fearing the loss of yet another person, especially someone as crucial as Joel.

Or, in Henry's words, the type of guy you'd follow anywhere.

His trembling hands find their place on your coat sleeve, tugging with only the desperation of a dying man as you will to keep your blood-soaked hands pressed over his injury.

"Leave...Leave..." His voice is hoarse and shaky, and that terrifies you. "Take my gun."

"Shut up, Joel," Ellie pleads weakly, standing helplessly behind you. "We aren't leaving you."

"Leave." Joel's voice is cold, angry, and scared. But underneath it all, the thing that scared you most was that there is a twinge in his tone that seems too relenting, too assured in letting the battle against him win, much like how Tess had appeared in the state house way back at the beginning of this fucked-up journey, and that was most certainly not him.

You were not losing him, not today.

You choke down the sob rising in your throat, feeling it pulsing in the column of your throat as you look up at Ellie and do your best to ignore the way her face falls at the sight of big tears sliding down your cheeks. "Go upstairs, Ellie. Look for a first-aid kit or something. Be quick."

She doesn't even hesitate, barely nodding before following your instructions, ignoring Joel as he protests weakly against your words on the mattress below.

You finally allow yourself to look down at Joel's face once Ellie is out of sight.

His eyes are wild with an unrecognised emotion; pain and exhaustion are also evident inside his brown irises. It's the first time you have found yourself properly gazing into his eyes, allowing you to see him for who he truly was for the first time—the self that he had resisted letting show for the entirety of the journey until this very moment.

The fearful man beneath.

"Joel..." You trail off, unsure what to say. Ellie is gone for the moment; should you say goodbye, just in case? Even the notion of doing so has hot tears dribbling down your cheeks, and you're shaking your head at yourself as you try to think of what to do, feeling completely and utterly hopeless.

You're the only capable adult left in this situation, and Ellie is looking to you for guidance on what to do. You couldn't imagine if she were left on her own in this situation. All you know is that if Joel dies and Ellie becomes your sole responsibility, the two of you will barely make it a day.

"Go...go North." He tries, his voice weak, and you ignore him, shaking your head.

Joel achieves a tight grip on you all of a sudden, breaking you from your internal breakdown as he uses seemingly his final bout of strength to tug you closer, startling you as your face looms over his, the closest you have ever been, as one of your hands flies to catch his wrists to stop him from loosening your pressure on his wound. He grits his teeth, speaking through his fear, his voice trembling. "I said, Fucking go! Take Ellie, and get back to Tommy. It's not far. He'll get you to the fireflies... Get you both there."

"Stop, stop.." You shake your head, your voice cracking, but he persists through your protests until you finally snap. "Just shut the fuck up, Joel! We aren't leaving! I...I can't. I can't do this on my own. I can't do... I can't do this without you."

His grip on you loosens, and for a moment, through your tears, you can see his pained and angry expression soften. It is momentary as his eyes flitter between both of yours as he takes in your words, but you feel your heart ache at the glimpse of the real man beneath his cold exterior.

Then, his hands, his bruised knuckles burning white on the fabric of your coat bunched in his grip, pull you closer, and for a moment, your breath hitches. And then he is shoving you away, shattering your delusion in a second.

"Fucking go." He grits out once more, watching as you fall to the floor, using your hands to catch yourself, and letting go of his wound.

You take a moment, out of pure shock, to watch as he cranes his head back to look at the ceiling, as if he can't bear to look at you.

As if he can't bear to see you leave.

"I'm not giving up on you, you asshole." You sniffle, pushing yourself up and glancing up towards the ceiling as you hear Ellie crashing about on the floor above, letting out angry yells to herself. "And neither is she. So don't you fucking give up on us, alright? We've come too far for you to fucking bail on us now."

He groans in pain as you place your hands back on top of the cloth over his wound, pressing down and feeling the warm liquid coat your already-soaked hands once more. You feel and hear him writhing discomfortably beneath you, drowning out your murmured apologies, until he suddenly begins to stop, his movements beginning to slow.

You can't bear to witness what is most likely the face of his dead corpse, and so you find yourself sobbing over your bloodied hands, your eyes squeezed closed as the metallic scent of his blood infiltrates your nostrils due to the close proximity.

"Please...please...you asshole. Please don't do this to me. Please." You cry softly, hearing the ceiling above you continue to squeak as Ellie's boots pound against the floorboards, still tirelessly searching, it seems, even as your own hope begins to dwindle. "I can't do this, Joel. I can't do this on my own. I can't keep her safe. She needs you. I need you. I fucking need you here. I need you to help me do this."

Your hysterical rambles trail off as Ellie's footsteps overhead speed up as they approach the basement door, and soon she is practically ripping the door of the hinges, her boots slamming against each wooden step as she announces, "Here, I found this."

She is on her knees beside you in less than a second, holding up a sewing needle and thread that you can barely find the strength to glance at. You notice she is out of breath and eyeing you with fear that she's too late.

"Ellie...I'm... I'm sorry, but—"

A weak cough interrupts you, and against your gut feeling, you turn your head to check on Joel immediately. His eyes are watery and half-lidded, but he is looking at you with such intensity that you can't bear to look away.

His hands, which had previously been clasped together over his stomach after pushing you away, twitch, a few of his fingers raising upwards, towards you. You reach out your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and you feel him squeeze weakly, his twitching thumb gliding slowly across the side of your hand, savouring the feeling of your soft skin as a small tear slips down his cheek.

You smile weakly at him, nodding with nothing but gratefulness. He was holding on, and whether he would make it to see the next sunrise with you both or not, he was fighting.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 11th

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1. Hi guys! This will probably I think goes in the fic finder.

So all I remember is wangxian had gotten together, it was post cannon I think? And they go on a hunt together along with Jiang Cheng or maybe they meet Jiang cheng on the way but either ways, things go wrong and the demon slashes wwx's neck and somehow they all fall down a cliff where lwj and jc try to keep wwx alive.

Thank you!

FOUND? The Warmest Hands by AvoOwO (M, 46k, wangxian, JC & WWX, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character injury, hurt WWX, blood & gore, heavy angst w/ happy ending, blindness, PTSD, alcoholism, fights, JC & WWX reconciliation, non-sexual intimacy, tenderness, WIP)

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2. Hi! I hope you are doing well. Please help me find this fic. Wwx erased himself and travel back in time. Wwx saw his parent and they have a little bit conversation, such why the couple never had a child or something. I remember there is a scene where wwx ask ‘how do you know I’m your son?’ then I think csr said ‘I always recognized my husband face everywhere’.

Please help me. Thank you!!!

FOUND? This unrolled threadfic by cerbykerby (WIP)

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3. For a fic finder:

It was during an AU version of the sunshot campaign where people thought that WWX and YLLZ were separate people and LWJ had fallen for both. LWJ decides to gently let down YLLZ but realizes that the two are the same person because he played/recognized wangxian. Thank you for all the help you provide

Number three on the current finder “The Scarlet Lotus” is wrong, the fic im looking for was a one shot. Thank you for the suggestion, may read the suggested fic later to try it out

NOT FOUND The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

FOUND! Found the fic, it’s Lan Wangji and the Love(s) of his Life by baobeibaobae (T, 4k, WangXian, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Kissing, First Kiss, Marriage Proposal, Love Confessions, Happy Ending, Oblivious WWX, Flirty WWX, Jealous LWJ, Courting Rituals, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, JC is a Good Bro). Thank you anyway and have a nice day

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4. Hello! I'm trying to find this fic where WWX was transported into the body of a female Mo Xuanyu and promptly feels dysphoric about it. When LWJ finds him and takes him back to the Cloud Recesses, he helps WWX feel more comfortable and even allows him to change Mo Xuanyu's name into something else. Somewhere by the end of the fic, it's revealed that the reason why LWJ knows so much about "gender cultivation" is because he himself is trans and found ways to help himself transition.

I can't find it anywhere and I don't wanna lose hope in case it's deleted. Thank you for your help!

FOUND! In Reflection, Truth by Shadaras (T, 55k, WangXian, WWX is summoned into a woman's body, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Gore, this is a story about being transgender, Dysphoria, Misogynistic Slurs, Ableist Language, it's not slow burn if it's going to be faster than canon, Trans Male Character, Trans wish fulfillment, Canon Divergence - Yunmeng Brothers Have A Real Conversation)

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5. Hii hope you're having a good day!! I was wondering if you could find a fic where wei ying gets his original body back, completely unrecognisable, and decides to stroll around gusu in lan zhans clothing. People see lan zhan and wei ying together and assume that wei ying is a new consort. They later go together to a conference meeting where everyone gets mad because they think lan zhan is cheating

FOUND? Is Your Old Body Considered a Halloween Costume? by The_peregrine_falcon (G, 3k, WangXian, WWX's original body, Junior quartet makes an appearance, LQR's blood pressure is going up, LWJ is chief cultivator, Fluff, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon)

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6. Hello! I sent in this ff a couple months ago with no luck. Hoping to try again to find it! The fic was set during the Cloud Recesses Lectures era and WWX was cursed to lie. Everyone else mistakenly thought he was cursed to only tell the truth, so when he says things like “I hate you” they believe it. WWX gets really depressed that everyone believes that he doesn’t care about them. The curse is eventually broken when LWJ realizes it is a lie curse not a truth curse. If this sounds familiar at all please let me know!

FOUND! A Kiss of True Love to break a Curse by Wangxian101 (T, 5k, WangXian, Teenage Wangxian, Not Canon Compliant, kiss of true love, curse of lies, truth curse, Angst, Fluff, When the only way to break the curse is to kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Teen Angst, They are in love your honour, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, there is only one brain cell in this group and it belongs to JC, LXC is the biggest wangxian shipper, jc is a good bro, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Gremlin WWX, Happily Every After, LXC will gut anyone who hurts his precious little brother, True Love’s Kiss, JC is an awkward bean, LWJ POV, WWX POV, WWX is a closet romantic, WWX loves his romance novels, Protective JC, JC loves his gremlin brother, Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, it all works out in the end)

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7. About 4-5 years ago I read a fic where WW awoke as a god of luck/fortune/fate after the siege. He ends up saving a-qing and she ends up following him after "fixing" XXC's soul, as well as XY's soul being stuck in a sword. God!WWX also ended up saving MXY too. The fic is also very long. the first couple of chapters are average length, but the last few are between 30-70k each. @annacakes2

FOUND? despite it all by novalotypo (T, 292k, wangxian, canon divergence, god of luck WWX, memory loss, non-linear narrative, WIP)

FOUND? Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 80k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, god WWX, Chinese mythology & folklore, pining, temporary character death, WIP)

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8. looking for a fic where jin zixuan is a demonic cultivator? it's an au or canon divergence fic where it was him who got the sword in xuanwu. appreciate all the help you give us <3

FOUND! no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence) most likely not this one, as JZX doesn't go full modao (or even guidao) in it, but he does certainly pick up the sword and is influenced by it; just in case this IS the right one, tho, JZX's bit comes up in chapter 3

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9. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much because i read that around 3 years ago. I hope this is not a mix between wo fic. I think its an arranged marriage story between Wangxian. Every month WWX leaves CRRS to visit the wen without anyone knowing but LWJ (i think he noticed) because LWJ make some arrangement that allows WWX leaves anytime he likes. 1 month and WWX still come back. Just like the following months until LWJ noticed WWX is not coming back. I think before that the two of them has a fight (? Not sure about this). LWJ search for WWX and found him. Instead of make his presence known, LWJ follows WWX in secret. WWX noticed of course and ignore LWJ. A few days like that and WWX relenta and calls LWJ to follow him without hiding. Thats all i can remember. I dont know if its an ao3 fic or thread fic. Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

9 is right. For the first half is right (wwx leave every few months) but not the second half (LWJ followed wwx while hiding). I think i mixed two different fic. But the "Light of Stars (and the Destroyer)" Is the one i meant. Thanks

FOUND! 🔒 Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple)

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10. hello! i was hoping you can help me find this fic where jiang cheng finds wwx’s journal in the burial mounds and he ends up experiencing(?) the events there. i read it ages ago and can’t find it. thank you!

FOUND? Waiting On You by SmellsLikeDeanSpirit (M, 26k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depicitions of Violence, Major Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memories, Time Travel, Sort Of, the characters watching the show trope but different, WWX has magical diaries that force the reader to experience his memories, JC finds them and reads them, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, YZY Bashing, Canonical Character Death, he comes back tho, JC regrets, JC Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug)

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11. Thank you for all the work you do!! I've been driving myself crazy trying to find this fic. All I remember is one scene. At the Jin banquet, Jiang Cheng allows (sends?) WWX to dual Jin What's His Face. WWX obviously trounces him, but nearly has a flashback, prompting JC to pull him back when he realizes that maybe sending his traumatized brother into that situation wasn't the best plan.

It was either a canon diversion or a JC goes back in time fic, but I can't remember which. It was relatively long and it isn't recent.

Ring any bells for anyone? Thanks!! @kirk-spock-in-the-impala

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It) JC went back in time and he realized his mistake about the skirmish like right after it happened. The part that they are looking for is in chapter 2.

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12. Hiii thank you so much for the hardwork you do and I enjoy the fics here. I haven't seen this in fic finder yet. I remember lwj leaving gusu for yiling he brought his own money and it was used to buy food and stuff I think. By the end they sell at the market with kids styling lwj hair and gusu saw this the elders was mad mad with the vanity. Lxc asked for bunnies cause the ones in gusu dissapeared(. Thank so much be well.I wrote this today and there was error if there is two pls ignore 🙏) @ladyxyraine

FOUND? 🔒 Share Your Silence series by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (E, 138k, WangXian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WangXian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies, Explicit Sexual Content, Burial Mounds, OCs, Drama, NMJ Qi Deviation, Awesome WQ, The Wen Twins, Wen JunZhu | MinYue (OMC), Wen YanJeng | MinYi (OMC), Fluff and Humor, WWX Has Feelings, Lotus Pier, mention of non-con roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, NMJ Needs a Hug, Nie clan sabers, baxia, Unclean Realm, Protective NHS)

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13. Hi im looking for a specific fic. The fic was on ao3 and was a modern au where Wei Ying realizes he might be a bit gay and kisses lan zhan but then freaks out, and they get a bit awkward. He then goes on to forums to see what others might think of his situation, he tries watching gay porn etc. and finds that he's dreaming of lan zhan. He ends up being jumped by homophobes goes on a drinking binge for the next few days as a result and hears that lan zhan has been staying in his room and hasn't been doing well, wei ying thinks it's because he kissed him but later finds out he sent lan zhan a homophobic message when drunk. Any help would be appreciated!!! @livesformitski

FOUND? it's always open by ScarlettStorm (E, 60k, WangXian, Modern, vague north american setting, First Time, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Some angst, Happy Ending, not straight boy WWX but not NOT straight boy WWX, not practice kissing but not NOT practice kissing, that feeling when you know you're making bad decisions but keep making them anyway, LWJ FUCKS, Sexual exploration, demi WWX, not that he knows that yet, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, confused but enthusiastic consent, WWX's not sure about all his options but he's got the spirit, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, truly absurd amounts of naked pillow talk, switch rights)

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14. Hi!! Thank you for all you do 🫶

I’m looking for a fic that was on ao3. It was one where I think WWX was brothers with Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe and I believe he was a god or something of higher power and as a trial he was born as the WWX we knew and he went through everything he did in canon. When he died he ended up back with Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe but LWJ couldn’t move on and he tried to find him there?

Thank you for your help!! @bigmeatycl0ws

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15. Hi! Kindly help me finding this fic. Wwx teaches the lan juniors to solve arrays. He makes it diffucult to solve so that he can have time with his husband. I think I remember they was a scene where JL ask the Lans how they can easily solves the arrays and then got jealous when he learn it was wwx who taught them.

FOUND? 🔒 A More Practical Approach by Elhana (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Teacher WWX, Humour, POV Multiple, Implied Sexual Content, when you just want to get frisky with your hot husband but your in-laws crave their peace and quiet, huge conflict of interest right there, WWX is resourceful, wuxia magic shenanigans, Post-Canon)

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16. Hey, this is for the fic finder!

I'm trying to look for this specific Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue fic where NMJ gets reincarnated as NHS' cousin's son and promptly falls in love with LXC all over again. I can't remember the title and I've been trying to look for it so I can reread it ;w; I think Age Difference was tagged and there's scenes where LXC tries to dissuade NMJ from getting together but in the end they get married and NMJ recovers his memories from his past life.

Thank you in advance ;w;

FOUND? Song of us by Ziane (E, 142k, LXC/NMJ, JC/NHS, Post-Canon Fix-It, Explicit Sexual Content, Reincarnation, Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Soulmates References, Pining, Canon-Typical Gore, Novel Spoilers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Implied LSZ/LJY, Porn with Feelings)

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17. Hi!! I’m back with another request!

It was an ao3 fic where WWX had left the cultivation world behind because he/she (there was a male and female version I believe) was pregnant with A-Yuan and Jingyi and he/she wanted to give them a better life. LWJ does find them eventually (he’s the father) and he gets to meet the kids. They end up staying together and raising the kids there after LWJ fakes his death @bigmeatycl0ws

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18. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ and WWX have a sex and a love confession during the sunshot campaign. LWJ visits WWX during one night and asks to let him help WWX with his health after using demonic cultivation. WWX , in a fit of rage and a desperate act to drive away LWJ, behaves crudely and proposition him.... I think the name of the fic was "fool for you"? I'm not sure.

Thanks in advance! @grrumpywoof

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19. Hey! Thank you so much for your hardwork 😊😊

Im searching for a fanfic which is completed

Yu ziyuan is present in the sunshot campaign and wwx invents turtle shields. Yzy tries to show wwx as a traitor but fails.

Can you please help me in finding this fic?

FOUND? Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

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20. Hello! Could you help me find a fic where pre sunshot campaign ends up in a room to watch the future and 4 juniors from the future join them. The main pairings I remember are Wangxian where Sizhui is there biological child. XiCheng Jingyi is their biological child and of course XuanLi with Jin Ling. No one believes them until they pull their parents swords from their sheaths and explain because Wangxian and XiCheng have high cultivation Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng got pregnant. @megdbrew

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