#send help I still have almost the entire work day before I can go home and do things

[iguessitsjustme]

I literally have nothing to do at work today. Someone send me asks or talk to me, or send me pictures of plants and animals. I can do this or that (make me choose between two things…anything), I’ll give my honest opinion on things, I’ll even write you a haiku I am SO BORED.

[keferon]

On the topic of Drift driving his little human around, the entire Mecha Program are slowly loosing their collective shits trying to figure what’s going on with Ratchet.

First, he goes semi-awol. He comes to meetings (to yell) and to help the pilots (while yelling) but before the huggers ups can corner him Ratchet always manages to slip away.

Nobody knows where the fuck he’s currently living. The pilots almost certainly know sure. Most even still have him as an emergency contact. But not a single one has any plans to out their saving grace so Swindle can just suck it.

Attempts to follow him home? Yeah small problem. See, Ratchets got a new sports car. Correction: someone has very nice, very fast sports car and has been giving Ratchets rides.

Whoever the hell it is, no one the higher ups have sent have been able to successfully tail them for long. Fucker drives like he’s barely resisting the urge to pull over and kill them.

Which. . . might carry some weight.

Everyone the higher ups have sent after Ratchet either give up or disappear.

One time, a car was dropped off that had been folded in half like a napkin.

They stopped sending drivers after that.

While the higher ups quietly lose their shit, the workers are turning that gossip wheel. The number one theory, between the fancy car, secret location and the disappearances, is that Ratchet has gotten into bed with the mob.

Certainly holds water. But one day after the usual drop off, the car came back and hour later, aggressively honking and refusing to speak with anyone other than Ratchet.

In a huff and in front of an audience, Ratchet finally confronted the mystery driver.

Eyewitnesses claim there was a brief exchange of words before the backseat opened up,

“You forgot your lunch!”

“Hmf, thanks kid.”

Followed Ratchet threatening to brain everyone gathered with a metal lunch box if they didn’t clear out and mind their damn business.

From then on, the number one theory went from “Ratchet now works with the mob” to “Ah, Ratchets boyfriend works with the mob.”

LMAO

OH I LOVE THAT

Bonus points - the driver must be from another half of the world because he keeps swearing in different (weird as fuck) language. Also. He has an accent but what kind of accent?? No one can tell.

I just. Ahahah. I just realized that Cybertronian accent should be a thing in this universe lol

[grimsonandclover]

Write write write

filthier the better

Sending all the love 🫶🍑

What He's Made For

Sub!Patrick Zweig x Dom!Fem!Reader

Eeuuuhhhhhh I'm sorry, just been thinking a LOT about just having enough of Patrick's shit and taking it out on him. Turns out, it's exactly what he was aiming for.

I'm writing this in a horny, ovulation-fueled daze so it's not going to be great or even good but its what I need. not proofread at alllll

consider this a foreplay part one since it ends abruptly because i need to post this before i pass out (im so tired). i need the horny freaks of this fandom to let me know if a part two is desired because I WILL write it

MDNI

1.1k words

This is entirely self serving and I'm opening up to you guys. This is me sharing. No more 600 word angst and fluff it's time for PERSONAL FANTASIES. kind of a 180 after i JUST posted that little la chimera fic lmao

You're fighting, you don't even know what for. Patrick's been pushing your buttons, getting on your nerves, and testing your limits all night. God, fuck, he won't stop. Every little word from him, all day and now night, is spoken with the pure intention of pissing you off.

"Did you really ask him about the weather?" He'd scoff on the drive home from a party. "You're miserable at small talk. Really, it's embarrassing."

The walk to the apartment elevator: "And those shoes. You've been whining all night like a fucking baby. I told you not to wear them, but you'd rather be a prissy little princess than listen to me." You're silent, breaths quickening as your fist clench around your apartment keys in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick up. "They're ugly, anyway. I don't really get why you insist on wearing them."

Unlocking the front door, fumbling and struggling because it's hard to see through the boiling water behind your eyes. "Do you need help with that? You had, like, what- one shot of tequila the entire party? Didn't think you were such a lightweight, can't even open a door. God, you're a mess."

Once the door is open, and a sickly smug smirk is plastered on that stupid face of his, you shove him in. The action is abrupt and unexpected, Patrick stumbling back and catching himself on the entryway wall. You almost miss the smirk returning to his lips. Who cares, it's time to speak your peace.

His back is on the wall and he stays where you threw him as you rip off your coat. "What the fuck is your problem, huh?" The coat is thrown to the floor and he blinks as you fist the collar of his stupid button up. Since when does he wear these, anyway? "All fucking night, you're in my ear like a bitch. Do you need a leash?"

He's been playing with fire so far. "Woof." Patrick grins.

The taunt makes your eyes narrow and glare harden. "You think it's funny? I've got a migrain because of it. I'd be in the middle of talking to someone and you'd start your shit again. That's what's embarrassing, not my small talk."

"You're like a child, how you beg for my attention. A dog. Is that what you are, Patrick?" You tug his collar and his breath catches. Drool pools in his mouth and he swallows, eyes zeroed in on his mouth while he still smirks. "Are you a misbehaving dog?"

He doesn't answer you, just giggles. In a sudden move, your hands are on his shoulders and you're pushing him forcefully to his knees. It's only because he doesn't anticipate it that it works. In a flash, your hand is gripping a fistful of curls at the back of Patrick's head, yanking it to make him look up at you. His mouth falls open, a soft gasp escaping from it. Yes. Finally.

"Are you," The words are spoken through your teeth, and this time he really is on the brink of drooling. "A fucking dog? Or are you going to start behaving like a man?"

His grin spreads again from ear to ear as Patrick slowly shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

Oh, that does it.

Your fingers tug his head further back and he gasps again at the slight sting of his scalp. Your other hand comes up, and before he can blink, a crack is heard through the entryway.

Patrick's cheek is red and stings so badly he can't feel the pain on his scalp anymore. It's so delicious he moans. He never knew until this exact moment that he liked to be slapped, lucky you.

"Wrong answer." He shivers at your tone, the blood in his body rushing to his cheek and to his dick. "Are you going to behave?"

"No." He whispers, eyes fluttering as he anticipates the next stri-

Oh, fuck. Patrick can feel a wet patch form in his boxers when you do it again-- he hasn't cum in five days, and Patrick's hyper aware of it now. The sound that comes from his mouth is almost pornographic and anyone else listening would swear that he must be at least getting his dick sucked and not just slapped around. The hand that slaps him moves to his mouth, index and middle finger shoved forcefully until you hit the back of his tongue. He wants to suck them, so he does, but then you shove them even further back until he gags a little. This isn't for him to enjoy (though he is anyway).

"Shut the fuck up." You sneer, fingers in his throat and hair, taking back the power he's had over you all night. They way he looks on his knees, peering up at you like you're his god with tears in his waterline and-- shit, that smile is still there. "I'll make you behave, then."

The hand in his hair lets go, pushing him back by the forehead till he hits the wall with a thunk. "Look at me."

He already was, but Patrick angles his head again, this time on his own, to better suit your needs-- especially when you tell him to open his mouth and you have a grip on his cheeks. You lean down the tiniest bit for better aim before collecting spit in your mouth, then spitting it into his. "My fucking mouth. Don't ruin it with all that cheap talk, acting like you don't know who owns it.

"Who owns it."

Patrick's got stars in his eyes as he swallows, so lost in you he forgets to answer-

A smack across his cheek again, another filthy moan. "You- you own it."

"Own what?"

"Me-- my mouth, my body, fucking all of it. It's yours."

"It's mine." You nod, gripping his cheeks again until his lips pucker. Patrick's drooling. "Mine. Don't use it against me, or I won't be so nice."

If this is you being nice, Patrick doesn't know what he'd be willing to do for mean. Every word you say, every tug, your spit in his mouth-- it all sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and through to his dick, aching and tenting in the shorts he wore to practice and then to a party. He truly is as filthy as you make him out to be.

You grab his hair again just to shove him in between your thighs, the material of your jeans rubbing harshly against his face and the irritated skin of his cheek. Patrick can smell you through it. He feels punch-drunk. This is what he was made for. This is his true purpose, not tennis.

His large palms slide up and down your thighs, hungry fingers begging at the button of your jeans. Off. He needs them off.

You let him peel them off you, not for him but for yourself. You need him to show you what he's actually good for. Why you keep him around.

[ditzyredrobin]

Tim Drake (The Spleen-Less Wonder)

My second Bad Things Happen square in as many days because I can’t control myself. ���

Prompt: Bundled Up in Blankets

-

“Jason, put me down, now!” Tim snaps, trying to wrestle his way out of the blanket burrito he is currently rolled into. He’s currently slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and pissed.

Well, beyond pissed.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the raging fury he’s currently feeling, being carried around like an oversized toddler. He kicks hard at Jason’s chest with his slippered feet, trying to gain some leverage to escape.

Jason isn’t even phased at his wriggling and kicking, he just keeps walking up the driveway. “What did I tell you, kid? Fuck around and find out.”

“It’s not that big a deal, seriously. It’s just a cold.”

It was. He hadn’t even broken 101 degrees yet which was barely even a fever and a total win in his book. If he was careful and took his antibiotics (which he had been, there was a timer set in his phone and everything) it would go away in no time.

“Like I said, you fucked around and now you’re going to find out. You could have stayed home but nooo. Tim Drake, the spleen-less fucking wonder, decided tonight was as good a night as any to hit the streets, never mind the sleet and windchill.” Jason mocks deadpan, renewing his grip. “Suck it up, buttercup. You did this to yourself. Deal with it.”

Tim rolls his eyes, “It’s Wayne.”

Jason pushes right through the front door to the manor without knocking. “What is?”

“My name. It’s not Drake, it’s Wayne.”

When he had been adopted, he’d officially become a Wayne. When he had taken over as CEO of Wayne enterprises after Batman had been lost in time, it only renewed that belief. He was a Wayne through and through and if the tabloids caught wind of his being carted around by strange men, he was going to have to send his publicist an apology bouquet again. And maybe a bottle of wine.

As much as Damian may have been opposed to it, he was a Wayne.

“Always a dramatic little shit,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Drake or a Wayne or something else entirely. What I do give a fuck about is someone ruining the lead I’ve been working for over a month because he decided not to stay in bed like he was supposed to.”

“And I’m the one being dramatic?”

“Yeah, you are. You know, I’m really glad you’re finally taking the time to self reflect. You should try journaling or some shit when you’re feeling big feelings instead of passing out and nearly braining yourself.”

Really, it hadn’t been that bad. He just needed a minute to sit and then he would have been fine. If Jason hadn’t overreacted, he would not have almost lost his lead.

“I did not. I’m fine. Now can you put me down?”

“You passed right the fuck out, Replacement. That sounds pretty bad to me.” Jason says but doesn’t budge.

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

Tim groans, giving one last weak kick. This was getting him nowhere fast other than wanting his bed. The DayQuil and Red Bull were starting to wear off and the drowsiness was setting in again to bone deep exhaustion. The kind that makes him want to curl up for the next 24 hours and just sleep.

Not an option, unfortunately. He had a board meeting in just over six hours. If he manages to go to bed right now, he should still have time to get in a couple of hours of sleep before he needs to get ready.

“Bruce! Get out here and take care of your belongings.” Jason calls into the otherwise silent manor. It was just after six am meaning Bruce wouldn’t have been in bed for very long.

Tim grimaced at the way Jason’s voice echoed through the halls. If Jason’s complete disregard for the alarm didn’t wake him up, his shouting definitely did. “You really don’t have to do this.” He beds quietly, like that would help matters at all.

One could hope.

“Like hell I don’t.” Jason’s snaps back and opens his mouth like he’s going to yell again when Bruce comes running around the corner.

His eyes are panicked and he’s dressed in a robe, the tie is caddywhampus, and honest to god fuzzy bunny slippers. “Jay, what's wrong?” It takes him a long moment to process what he’s holding. “Is that-?”

“Yours.” Jason finishes, meeting Bruce half way. Without warning, he dumps Tim unceremoniously off his shoulders, earning him an indignant squawk.

If it had been anyone other than Bruce, Tim would have worried, bundled up so tight, he couldn’t stop himself before he hit the ground. But this was Bruce after all.

He caught Tim swiftly before he hit the ground, cradling to his chest. “Tim? What’s going on?”

Jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Next time, take care of your little birds, or I’m not giving them back. We don’t have any more mishaps do we?”

Bruce grimaces, tightening his grip on Tim, pulling him in just a little closer. “What happened? I thought he was supposed to be in bed last night.”

“He’s here too, you know.” Tim uttered but neither Bruce or Jason didn’t acknowledge him.

“Apparently someone failed to tell him that because one minute he was being an annoying little shit and the next he tried to pass the fuck out in the middle of an op. One I’ve been working for months, mind you.” Jason says. “All I know is if he fucks up like that again, it’ll be on your head. Capeesh?”

Bruce nods solemnly, looking pained. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Jason says, trying to sound annoyed but there was a fondness in his voice. “Seriously, don’t mention it. Just do better. The kid is an idiot with the self preservation skills of a wet paper bag.”

Bruce sighs, “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” And in a small voice adds, “You know you can stay too. You’re welcome home anytime, Jaylad. Alfred misses you, I miss you.”

“You know this isn’t my home, Bruce. I only came back for the kid.” Jason turns back to the door.

“Maybe so but Alfred is making pot roast on Sunday.”

Jason freezes for a moment. “I’ll…think about it.”

Bruce smiles softly, “I look forward to it. Goodnight, son.”

Jason waves him off and leaves, closing the front door behind him, muttering under his breath. Something about Tim and Bruce not being his dad and roast beef sandwiches.

With Jason gone, the entirety of Bruce’s attention is turned to Tim, examining him with big, blue eyes and a kicked-puppy look. “Did you really almost faint? Be honest with me.”

Tim looks away, feeling his cheeks flush. “Maybe? It really wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired.”

Bruce sighs again (because his sons will be the death of him) and starts towards the cave. “You could have gotten seriously injured if Jason wasn’t there.”

“I know.”

He did. There was just so much to do, he didn’t have time to sit down and rest like a civilian. Crime was an ever present entity—if he didn’t help, people were injured and bodies of the innocent filled the morgues. The bodies of good people with lives and hopes and families and dreams.

What use was he if he couldn’t help?

“Do you, Tim? What would’ve happened if you were by yourself? What if your cold gets worse or turns into pneumonia again?”

“I know,” he says again in a small voice.

He really, truly did, but crime stopped for no one.

Bruce’s sighs exasperated, “You’re benched and staying here until you’re better where Alfred and I can monitor you.”

No, no, no, no, no! He can’t—he won’t.

“You can’t, please, I can’t.” Tim begs.

“You can and you will. I will also be handling the board meeting that mysteriously disappeared from my calendar.” Bruce says, giving him a knowing look.

Tim grimaces, “You noticed?”

“I noticed.” Bruce confirms.

He’s Batman. Of course he noticed.

“And there’s no way I can convince you to change your mind?”

Bruce shakes his head, carrying him not back up the stairs to his room, but the clock and the cave. “Not a chance, bud.”

There was no escaping now, not when Bruce’s mind was made up. If they were heading to the cave, where Alfred must have already been waiting, no doubt with an endless supply of warm blankets and IV fluids. He was sure there would be chicken soup later when it was closer to any normal person's time of day.

Tim leans his head back against Bruce—his father’s—shoulder, letting his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” It’s a small thing but Bruce hears him and hugs him a little closer.

“I know you are. Let’s get you to bed and later we’ll have a long conversation about self care and boundaries, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, already half asleep. He didn’t want to but it was unavoidable. Now he would focus on the gentle sway as he walked, the thrum of his heart in his chest. “Hey dad?”

“Hm? What's up, champ?”

“I love you.”

Bruce chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his hair. “I love you, too.”

[ohbo-ohno]

Prompt requests: 1) Price x Reader - abandoned farm / waking up in a random room with no idea who/where/why/how you got there 2) Soap x Reader - forest / dealing with strange natural (or not-so-natural) phenomena 3) Ghost x Reader - the only other car in the abandoned parking lot / being followed

1k game here

i went ahead and just did one of these! i've got several requests in my inbox still, but i might come back and add another one you had later :)

1.7k of your ex-boyfriend ghost catching up with you. no smut!

The car's been tailing you since you left work.

It's a discreet car, and you probably wouldn't have even noticed it if you hadn't run several errands before starting to head home. The driver isn't even trying to be subtle - he never parks more than a spot away from you and he never lets another car get between you and him on the road.

You already know who he is. You hate to admit it to yourself, but you know.

Ghost always was possessive. It's not a leap to think he'd be pissed at the idea of anyone getting close to even your car.

Plus, he probably wants you to know he's following you. He always was a sadistic bastard, always liked the see the pain he was causing.

There's no one you can call for help. You didn't rat him out the first time you ran, and you're not going to now. There's no way you could get the police to keep you safe without telling them all about Ghost and his secrets, and you'd be better of just surrendering to Ghost's wrath at that point.

You take a deep breath and tighten your hands around the wheel.

You can't get help.

You can't run - he's tailing you too closely for that.

You can't fight - you don't keep your gun in your car, and you've never been a match for Simon hand-to-hand.

You pull into a dark parking lot, one that's almost entirely empty save for a few people waiting at the bus stop. You take a few deep breaths as you pull to a stop as far away from the bus stop as you can, trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

The car parks a spot away. Just seconds later, he's climbing out of the driver's side and striding towards you.

You knew it was him. He'd never send a henchman after you, even all these months later with so much distance between the two of you.

He's clothed entirely in black - like he always is on the job, apparently black hides bloodstains best - and comes to a stop right in front of your window, so your just staring into a wall of darkness.

You roll the window down, the awkward silence heavy.

The first thing you notice when he ducks down is that he's wearing the mask. Not the one sewn onto a balaclava, but one with the skull pattern printed onto the balaclava itself.

"Get out," he grunts. His first words to you in nearly a year and they're a command.

You scowl. This is exactly why you ran in the first place.

"No." You try to infuse as much confidence into your voice as possible, but you know you fail.

He huffs. "Love, c'mon, I'm not playing games. Get out of the car."

You shake your head, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white.

"No! I don't have to listen to you - especially when you've been stalking me all day-"

He sighs loudly, and before you can complain he's reaching through the window and opening the door for himself, quickly ducking into your car.

"Hey, stop!" You try, batting away his hands when he unbuckles your seatbelt, pulling you up by the waist until your standing unsteadily against him. "You have no right-!"

"Baby. Shut up." He growls, reaching around you to tug the key out of the ignition, the hand around your waist affording you no wiggle room.

"Don't you tell me to shut up!" You complain, pushing against his chest as he starts to nudge you in front of him. "I haven't had to deal with you in nearly a year and the first things you think to say to me are an order and shut up? Fuck you, asshole!"

There's a low chuckle at your back, and he turns you around to pin you to the car. Your breath hitches as he presses your chests together, ducking low enough that you can't look anywhere but his eyes.

"I missed you," he says, low and secretive.

God, you wish you could hate him. Everything would be so much easier if you hated him.

"Let me go," you say, forcing sternness into your voice.

"No."

"I'm serious," you try, pushing at the center of his chest. He only uses the pressure as an excuse to lean closer, draping himself over you.

"I'm serious too, love. You're never leaving my line of sight again."

You shut your eyes against the wave of longing that brings. He used to talk like that all the time, back before you realized how deep he was in his life of crime.

Gonna keep you forever, love.

Might chain you to the bed. Keep you safe at home, make sure I always know where you are. Little fuckdoll waiting at home for me, hm?

Never letting you leave me. Never.

I can't stand to be apart from you, love. It feels like I'm missing a limb.

You can't leave - you know that, don't you? I'll hunt you down, baby. This isn't a relationship you can get away from.

Simon was always a little possessive, a little controlling. Sometimes it got you off, and sometimes it scared you. In the weeks leading up to your escape, it did a lot more of the latter.

"We're broken up," you say on an exhale, looking back up at him. He's tugged the mask up to his nose, and his warm breath ghosts over your face. "I left you. We're not together anymore, Ghost."

He nearly flinches at that name, stiffening against you. "Don't call me that."

You don't correct yourself, and one of his hands comes up to collar your throat.

"I'm not joking. You don't call me that, understood?"

He applies just the slightest bit of pressure on either side of your neck and you fold like wet cardboard. Nodding quickly and taking a big deep breath in when he stop squeezing.

"What do you call me?" He bites, leaning closer until you're almost brushing noses. You try to flinch back but can't make it very far. "Say it. What do you call me?"

"Simon," you blurt out, nearly a plea. You haven't been near his intensity in so long, it's hard to handle now. You drop your eyes shamefully, unable to look at him.

"Good girl," he purrs, hand moving upwards to cup your chin and tilt it up. You can't help but meet his eyes, and the softness there nearly breaks your heart. "I'm never Ghost for you, only Simon. You got that?"

"You hunted me down like a dog."

He smiles at that, leans close enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. "I got you back. You're the one who ran away, love. It's a scary world out there, I can't leave you all alone."

"I don't need you to help me."

"You will. You'll need me again. Everything will go back to just how it was, and you'll see how good it is again. I'll take care of you."

That makes your heart beat a little faster, makes your breath quicken.

The first few months with Simon were... well, not heavenly but certainly good. Things were at their best when you first moved in - when he was still eager to dodge work for you, and when you didn't realize how violent "work" really was. Things only started getting bad when you started putting the pieces together.

"You can't protect me from your world, Simon," you whisper, tilting your head towards him just enough to bump your foreheads together. That's the whole reason you had run in the first place - nearly getting kidnapped and having a gun held to your head had been more than enough to scare you out of his world.

"I can," he growls, pressing closer to you. "You just have to let me. You didn't know before, but now you do. Now I can make sure you know how to keep yourself safe when I'm not there."

"But I shouldn't have to!" You exclaim, tears welling in your eyes. Why can't he just understand? "I don't want to always be looking over my shoulder, always waiting for someone to hurt me, or to hurt you-"

"That's not going to happen."

"You don't know that!" You explode, shoving at his chest as he tears slip past your waterline.

"I do," he snarls, the first hints of anger painting his words. "I can keep my woman safe. I can keep what's mine safe."

You sniffle as you look up at him, bottom lip quivering.

You're not even sure what to say at this point. What else is there?

He seems to realize you've run out of words and deflates against you, curling both of his arms around your waist and holding you as close as he can while resting his chin on top of your head.

"It'll be okay, love," he comforts, swaying side to side. "I get why you ran, alright? I know you were scared, and that's my fault. It won't happen again. But it's time to stop running and to come home. You know that's where you're meant to be."

You sniffle against him, blinking into the dark fabric of his shirt.

"You scare me," you confess quietly, safe without his eyes boring into yours.

He only stiffens for a moment, then goes soft against you again. "I know."

One hand moves up to pet over your hair, stroking across your head in the exact way that always makes you feel a little loose limbed. It works now, and you give him a bit more of your weight.

"You're scared because you're smart. I'd be worried if you weren't scared. I shoulda known before that I couldn't keep my job from you, and that's on me. If I had told you, you might not have run."

"I would have."

He snorts, tugs a lock of your hair. "Shush. I promise, things will be different this time. Better. All cards on the table."

Your hands tentatively wrap around him, linking at the small of his back. You've always loved how big he is compared to you, how protected you feel in his shadow.

Even now, knowing what you know, you still feel that way.

It's that thought that has you finally breaking down, leaning into his hold and squeezing him tight to you.

"Oh, love," he sighs, squeezing you as tightly as he can without hurting you. "It's alright, you're okay. Just get it all out. Everything's going to be alright."

As much as you hate it, you think he might be right.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 4

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: not edited, angst, mentions of alcohol, pregnancy, food word count: 1.3k authors note: sorry it's late & short but i was sick and then had writers block. i hope u guys like it!! if u like it let me know but if you hate it also let me know. also HUGE thanks to @barzysbaby for the help with this chapter!! it probably wouldn't have been finished without your help! if anyone wants to be added or taken off the tag list, let me know! you can shoot me a dm, send an ask or fill out my tag list form.

requests are open 🫶🏻 masterlist masterpost ask box taglist form

After your unexpected heart-to-heart with Mat, you begin to realize that you’re starting to tread on some thin ice with your relationship with him. Letting those feelings you’d tucked away start to come back was a recipe for disaster because you had Nora to think about. If he really wanted to be a part of her life, the two of you couldn’t start a relationship because if it went wrong, it would ruin the opportunity for him to be in her life comfortably. 

However, the problem is how perceptive Nora can be. 

Letting yourself have ‘just one moment’ with Mat last night was a bad idea because you wake up on the couch the next morning, Mat holding you close, and a grumpy six-year-old demanding breakfast. 

“Eggs please,” Nora demands, curious eyes watching you and Mat. When you make no move to get up off the couch and get her breakfast, she stomps a foot and crosses her arms.

“Grandma said I could have eggs for breakfast,” she says and then pauses before adding: “and she said I could have pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes.”

“You’re not at grandma’s, are you?” you reply, watching her frown. 

“Well then can you bring me to grandma’s?” she replies without missing a beat.

You open your mouth to tell her no, you won’t be bringing her to grandmas with that attitude when Mat interrupts. 

“I’ll make some pancakes,” he mumbles sleepily, sitting up and pulling you with him. You turn to tell him no but your mouth goes dry because you forgot how good he looks in the morning. You’re staring long enough that he notices and a smirk tugs at his mouth but he doesn’t say anything, instead standing up and offering a hand to Nora. 

“Let’s go make mom some pancakes,” he says and she smiles up at him and it’s just so damn domestic that you want to cry.  

You watch them walk over to the kitchen and start preparing the ingredients while you sit there, trying to pull yourself together. He’s falling so seamlessly into being a parent that you can’t decide how to feel. His attentiveness and patience with her could be temporary and then when he realizes how hard being a parent really is, you’ll be left to clean up the mess he leaves behind. On the other hand, he might be serious about the entire thing and everything could work out.

Nora's giggles catch your attention and you look to see Mat cracking an egg on her forehead like the video he had sent you a few days ago, claiming that he would try it on Nora. Almost as if he can sense that you’re watching them, he looks up and catches your eye and grins, tilting his head slightly.

“You wanna help or just sit there all morning?” he teases so you stand up and make your way to the kitchen to stand next to Nora, kissing the forehead when she grins up at you. 

“How can I help?”

. . .

It was inevitable that the hockey world would catch wind that Mathew Barzal had a child. Whether it was his now ex-girlfriend, or just someone from home that spilled the beans, suddenly all the sports sites had articles up about it. They can't legally say Nora’s name or show photos of her because she’s still a minor, but they can definitely dig up old high school pictures and find your instagram.

It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together for people to realize that you were his baby mama. You had to turn your social media accounts private because you were suddenly having people comment on your photos, and sending DM’s. Most of them weren’t the nicest, accusing you of kid-trapping Mat and while you knew that it was useless to be upset over it, it was hard. They didn’t and would never know the details but it bothered you to no end, and unfortunately, you took your frustration out on Mat, who took whatever you threw at him. You said things you regretted the next morning and he would just smile and tell you it was fine. 

But it wasn’t, and everything crashed down about two weeks after the first article was posted. You woke up to your phone buzzing, calls and texts from your mom, Jax, some other friends and even Liana. 

And a single text from Mat that had just two words, and a link attached.  

baby daddy: I'm sorry. instagram.com/matbarzal 

It was a statement, clearly written by a PR Manager from the Islanders organization. The statement basically said that Mathew Barzal did not in fact have a child. It was just a rumor floating around that a disgruntled fan spread. A lot of people called it bullshit, saying that it was PR cleaning up a mess, which technically they were doing. Then, there were the fans and journalists who did believe the statement and tried to take back whatever they may have said that was mean. 

It wasn’t the things other people were saying about it though, it was what Mat wasn’t saying. After the post, he ghosted you for four days, ignoring all the texts and calls even when they were about Nora. Liana and Nadia still asked to see Nora on the weekend that she normally does so you dropped her off Friday evening, noticing that Mat’s car was nowhere to be seen. Nadia and Liana didn’t say anything about the situation, just thanking you for letting Nora stay over for the night and promising to call if anything came up. You didn’t have anything planned so you went back to your apartment, hoping to catch up on some overdue work you’d been letting pile up.

Halfway through writing a draft for a chapter, there’s a knock on your door. You’re once again suspecting it to be Nadia or Liana with Nora but you come face to face with Mat.

Again.

His eyes are trained on the ground, refusing to meet yours. There are a thousand things you want to say, most of them not nice at all but what comes out is: “beer?” 

His head shoots up, clearly not expecting that response from you but he nods his head and walks in when you step to the side. He toes off his shoes and walks straight towards the kitchen. By instinct, he opens the fridge to get himself a drink and then pauses, looking at you sheepishly.

“Beer?”

“Water,” you reply and he nods, passing you a bottle of water. You both sit at the kitchen island, drinking your respectable drinks in silence until he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know that they were going to write that. Our public relations manager wrote it and just told me to post it. My agent asked her to clean things up a little because it was getting out of hand. I didn’t want to hurt you or Nora, I swear.” 

“It’s too late for that,” you say sharply. “You said you want to be in Nora’s life but she can’t be a secret, Mat! You can’t say you want to try, and then turn around and tell the world that she’s not yours. If you’re not going to be in this one-hundred percent, then you shouldn’t be here at all.” 

He must take your last statement as a dismissal because he stands up, slips his shoes on and leaves, closing the door a little harder than necessary. 

You sit in silence far too long, part of you foolishly hoping that Mat will come back but you know he won’t. Not today at least. So, you go back to working on your draft but you can’t focus. Part of you wants to try and put yourself in his shoes, to try and understand why he didn’t fight harder against what public relations wanted but you can’t. You can’t imagine not being Nora’s mom and you wonder if maybe this is the way out he was hoping for. Maybe he decided that being a parent was fun for a little while, but when he understood the real consequences and struggles that come along with it, he realized he didn’t want it. That he didn’t want Nora.

Maybe this is his out.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @teapartydreams @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @topguncultleader @shadowsndaisies @lovinbarzal

[tojigasm]

Sheep and Wolf

Authors note: omgg, it's been almost an entire year since I've posted a Toji fic, but here he is!! Back in the flesh, he returneth! I hope you all enjoy it!! <33

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, fluff, creampie, kissing, pet names, angst, Christopher Nolan, blood, guns, mentions of bandaging a wound, Toji being old

Toji, who calls you while you're at school, chuckling into the phone when you complain about your professors and the schoolwork you've got to finish by the end of the week.

"I'm still havin' you watch that Christopher Nolan film tonight," he teases, and you can hear his smirk on the end of the line.

"Noooo," you whine, "you're gonna torture me with your film bro shit on top of my homework?" You sigh, and you can hear him laugh, "doesn't mean the film is gonna be any better just because I'm being forced to watch it."

"Yeah, yeah, kid," tojis voice deepens some, and you find yourself smiling at the rasp of it, "now go learn something."

He can hear you giggle on the other end before the line clicks off, and he turns back to looking over folders for his next mission.

—

Toji, who rolls his eyes when you get amped up at night time. Too excited and too happy to fall asleep.

You're wiggling around under the covers until a firm hand grounds your thigh to the mattress.

"M'kay, I think that's enough." Toji warns gently, scrolling through his phone with his other hand. "It's bedtime."

Your idea of "bed time" lasts momentarily before you're shuffling yourself under the covers and wiggling about as you giggle.

You've come to learn that Toji is a very patient boyfriend, but his limits still exist in full, and they become very apparent when interfering with his usual bedtime schedule.

"Y/n," he puts his phone down to watch your hump of sheets and pillows stop at his voice, "what did i just say."

You sheepishly crawl back up to the top of the bed and go to sleep.

—

Toji, who comes back home, stumbling up the wooden stairs, scraped, torn, and bloodied.

The sound of stairs weaning under his unsteady steps pulls you from your sleep to find him slumped against the railing of the wall, pressing his hand to his side.

"Oh my god, toji!" You make your way to him, kneeling on the step above him to look him over. "What did you do, oh my god," You pull his arm over your shoulder to help him stand, and he hisses through his teeth.

"I didn't do shit, not my fault i didn't know the asshole had a fuckin' gun."

Once to the master bathroom, you sit him on the edge of the tub, peeling his shirt up to assess the bloody wound.

"Is it..?"

Toji shakes his head tiredly, waving you off to grab the rubbing alcohol from beside you.

"Nah, I fished the bullet out on the way here." He pulls the collar of his shirt into his mouth in preparation.

You scoot yourself back some to watch him pour the isopropyl over his bloody skin. This was his field anyways, you'd decided.

"Fuck!" Toji groans, throwing his head back.

Working quickly, you move back to help clean the wound with water from the tub before wrapping his stomach with guaze.

He passes out on the edge of the tub, and you stay with him until morning. It'd become a semi-regular routine in his area of work, though the first couple of times you'd been so terrified and he'd felt so bad that the next day after the event you'd have a newly wrapped present on the kitchen counter.

The presents now are that he even makes it back at all.

—

Toji, who fills you so well, you sob.

His cock stretches you open and runs along your gummy walls, thick and girth length sends a pulse of pleasure through your cunt.

"So fuckin' tight. Shit m'gettin' close." Toji groans, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Wanna have your baby," you sob, pulling at his thick raven hair.

Toji chuckles at that, pulling back some to gently cup your cheeks in his hands.

"No, y'dont." He kisses the soft of both cheeks and then your nose and then your lips. "Don't wanna be stuck with his old man forever, do you?"

You giggle through heavy tears, and he holds you tighter to him. A large hand strokes over your head as he pumps into you.

"You're doin' so good." He kisses you, pulling back to rest his forehead to your own, "you're such a good girl."

His thumb strokes your clit and the other presses your knee to the bed, holding you open.

"Sweet angel."

And when his heat fills you, you bite into his shoulder and cum. Gummy walls squeezing around his girth and pulling him in.

—

Toji, who lies with you on your balcony, whispering how much he loves you under the stars after a long week.

"No, that one is big dipper." You laugh, falling back to his chest.

"Sorry I'm not a fuckin' nerd and spend my free time drawin' magical pictures in the fuckin stars." Toji sighs.

"Hey!" You hit his chest, "they're not magical. They're literally right there." You look back up at the sky again.

"Mhm, sure."

The cool breeze of the night blankets the two of you from your shared apartment balcony. It sings and howls through the trees.

Toji's hoodie is soft and envelopes you in its warmth against him. The material thin enough for you to hear his heartbeat through his own shirt.

There's a gentle beat of silence where Toji strokes his knuckles over your cheek back and forth.

"Know I love you, right, kid?" He asks.

You nod against his chest, and you can feel him nod back.

"You're a good girl."

—

Toji, who's age, catches up to him in cruel and unkind ways.

It starts small, him squinting to read the menu print when the two of you go out. At first, you had teased him about it, and he had pushed you with a heavy eye roll.

Then it turned to squinting while watching TV and reading books and driving, so he got readers and contacts.

Sometimes, his age is ridden in late night returns to home. He hardly makes it up the stairs, and there's evidence of his hardship written into grooves in the railings and the light stripes of wood that've been bleached time and time again from his blood.

At others, it's in far more relaxed ways.

When his hair turns a salt and pepper mix that he's no longer able to trim away to ensure his youth. Rather, the white and greys start at the roots now, speckling throughout his thick raven tufts.

And sometimes, it's in the way he rolls the two of you over. Forcing you on top of him as he fills you to the brim. He holds you by the hips, helping to guide you along the length of him at your own pace.

—

Toji, who calls you, choked up on the other line, and you know he won't be coming home.

"I want you to–"

"Toji, please tell me what's going on," you sob, the sound of rain and his shaky pants fill the line.

"Goddamnit, y/n! Listen to me!" He scolds you, and you hang on the tip of every word. Relishing in the realization that it might be the last time you speak to him. The last time he speaks to you. The last time he'd ever have to calm you down, get frustrated with you.

"Toji," you weep, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Honey, I need you to listen to me." He groans on the other end. "You remember the key to the safe?"

You nod, sniffling into your arm, stifling a wale.

"Y/n?"

"Yes!" You cry.

"Good girl, good."

And it almost feels as though he's there with you. Holding you to him and whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you cry in his arms.

Almost as if you'd wake up, and everything would go back to the way it was that morning.

"I want you to take everything and call Nanami." He waits a beat, "you hear me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, yes," you cry through a shaken nod, "I'll call Nanami. I promise."

"He'll help you." He hisses, "you're gonna be okay, baby." He tries to soothe you.

"When will I see you? Are you coming with me?" You ask pitifully. As though you don't know. As though he won't lie to protect you. As though asking the question might tear the fabric of your reality and pull you back to last night when he pulled you into his arms to sleep.

There's a soft moment before he stumbles over his words, "i– you don't need to worry about me, kid." He sighs.

He lets you cry for a moment, soothing you from his end.

"M'sorry I couldn't give you that kid you wanted or half the things you deserve. You're a good girl, far too good fr'me."

"Toji, please," you sob.

"Be good fr'me, okay?"

Your hand strokes over your cheek, mimicking his late touch.

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, kid."

The line clicks.

[princessmaybank]

Good Girl

Pairings: Boyf!Rafe x Gf!Fem!Reader x JJ

Warnings: Cheating, nudes, spanking, degradation, spanking, 3some, p in v, oral (both), fingering, voyeurism, creampie, etc.

Summary: Reader accidentally sends a nude to the wrong guy.

Authors Note: This is my first time writing something like this! Please be kind! I hope you enjoy!

Moodboard

Fuck. Rafe had me so fucking horny all day. It's not even his fault..I have been thinking about him dicking me down since lunchtime. The ache between my legs was almost too much at this point. My core was begging to be touched, but unfortunately Rafe isn't home. He went on a business trip with Ward, leaving it to me to pleasure myself. He did tell me to message him any time I feel horny and he would try his best to help, so I might just have to do that.

I was home alone because my parents were making some deals over dinner with some new clients.

But before I do anything, I really want to take a shower, I feel disgusting after work every time. I work at a little restaurant called The Wreck with my friend Kie. She got me the job when I told her I didn't want to work for my parents, at least not yet. Since I started working with her, I've met her friends and they seem to like me, well for the most part. JJ is still warming up to me, and he hates Rafe for some reason. All of them do. I understand he can be an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't go as far as to say I hate him.

After I took my shower I didn't bother putting clothes on. I wanted to send Rafe a little surprise while he was gone.

Y/N: I took this for you baby

Y/N: Photo

I quickly hit send because I was nervous about his reaction but deep down I know he'll love it. I heard a ding from my phone, letting me know I got a message.

???: All for me? Damn Y/L/N...maybe I was wrong about you

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as my heart was beating against my chest. Then I heard another ding come from my phone.

???: Photo

Only a second later and another message came through.

???: That one's all for you.

I sent my fucking nude pic to JJ?? And he sent me one back? How the hell did that happen??? I started freaking out, knowing that Rafe would fucking kill him..and me, but mainly him.

JJ: What made ya come to your senses?

I had no idea how to respond to him. This has never happened before. Maybe I should just be honest.

Y/N: oh hey..can you just delete that and pretend you never saw it...? that wasn't meant for you JJ...

JJ: if it was sent to me, I was meant to see it, the universe just works that way ;)

He saw that I opened the text and that I wasn't responding. Those three dots popped up as he was typing.

JJ: okay, hey I'm sorry. where u at rn? I'll come meet ya n we can talk bout this

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest when I read that message. I'm nervous and I don't know what to do. Fuck. I should clear the air with him.

Y/N: my house..

JJ: drop your pin

I hesitate before sending this man my address. This could go horribly wrong, and I don't have Rafe here to protect me. Whatever, I'm already in this deep and it's just JJ what's the worst he could do?

Y/N: 📍

JJ: omw

I stood from my bed and started looking for an outfit to wear. I don't know why I cared what I looked like for JJ..I shouldn't, but I did. I ended up choosing a little white skirt with a cute blue crop top to go with it.

It took maybe 10 minutes before I heard a knock at my door. I still wasn't entirely sure if I should answer it, knowing who was on the other side, and knowing what he just saw...

I decided that I should just open the door and hopefully he'll understand the mistake.

My heart started pounding again as my hand reached for the knob. Suddenly I was greeted by a familiar face...but it wasn't JJ...

"Rafe?? " I question sounding more shocked than happy. "What are you doing here?" My anxiety was through the roof at this point, knowing JJ is probably just around the corner. Rafe let himself into my house by grabbing my face and pulling me into a heated kiss. He used his foot to kick the door closed, then pinned me against the wall next to it.

"Wanted to surprise my princess. The job got done early. I landed 30 mins ago, rushed over to see you." He says all while rubbing me up and down. "Look at this fuckin outfit, almost like you knew I was coming over princess.." He reached hand up my skirt and soon realized I wasn't wearing any panties. "Naughty girl.." Rafe smirked before attacking my neck.

About a minute later there was a knock on the door. He waved it off and said to just ignore them and they'll go away. Another knock pounded from the other side of the door. "Y/N?? Are you home?" You recognized his voice. Rafe pulled away looking slightly confused before looking through the peephole.

"What the fuck is JJ doing here?" He said gritting his teeth. I toyed with my fingers and bit my lip not knowing how to tell him the truth. Next thing I know he swings the door open.

"Hey ba- Rafe?? ...Was this a fuckin set up?" JJ questioned. I shook my head no as both men stared at me.

JJ came inside and closed the door behind him before joining Rafe and I in the living room. I was told to sit on the couch so I obeyed. The guys stood in front of me towering over me with their arms crossed, trying not to kill me or each other.

"What is he doing here?!" They both asked angrily at the same time. "Can you two sit down before I continue?" I ask shyly. The guys responded with a harsh 'No' timed almost as perfectly as before.

"Okay so here's what happened..." I trail off and explained the entire situation before Rafe turns to face JJ, looking like he is about to murder him.

At some point Rafe lunged at JJ and I had to get in the middle. Rafe grabbed my shoulders trying to move me out of the way. JJ had his hands on my hips trying to keep me in between them. It felt like they were going to split me in half.

It took a while but I eventually got them to go talk it out in my room. I can't speak guy, so maybe they would have an easier time hearing it from each other.

After a while I didn't hear them talking anymore, which was concerning, Rafe may have actually killed JJ..

I went to my room and knocked before entering. I was greeted with a naked Rafe picking me up before laying me on my bed. He placed his lips on mine, giving me one of the most intense kisses I've ever had. "Rafe- whe-wheres J-" I tried to question. "Don't worry about it. He's fine. Enjoy this." He kissed down my jaw and to my sweet spot, sucking on it for as long as he could, in order to mark me.

Rafe doesn't usually give me hickies unless he is angry-fucking me. He must have sent JJ home after their talk so we could have this moment. At least he's not mad at me anymore.

"So you wore this slutty outfit for Maybank huh?" He asked and flipped me onto my stomach, hiking my skirt up above my ass. "And no fuckin panties. You really are a fuckin slut." Rafe huffed before giving me a hard slap across my ass, causing me to yelp as a tear prickled in my eye.

"I'm gonna make you choke on my fuckin cock.." He smirks before flipping me back over. He comes over and hovers my face, his knees on either side of my head. Rafe dipped his cock into my mouth slowly before full on fucking my mouth. "Mmm yeah, suck that fucking cock you whore!" He somewhat gently slaps my face, still pushing in and out of my throat.

As I was gagging on Rafe's dick I felt something down between my legs. A cold, wet, tongue met the heat between my legs and I couldn't see it. "Wait till you see her face Maybank, she makes a pretty face when you fuck her." Rafe announced which resulted in a hum from the mouth attached to my clit.

JJ was eating me out...while Rafe was fucking my face...

Fuck.

I moaned onto Rafe's dick as he continued to fuck my throat. In turn, my moans made Rafe moan. "How'd you say she liked it Rafe..." JJ questioned before shoving his cock inside of me. A loud moan escaped the best it could when he filled me up. "...by surprise, right?" He chuckled as Rafe nodded.

JJ's thrusts caused Rafe's thrusts to go faster and harder. But they both stopped suddenly. Pulling out of both of my holes and they stood next to the bed, hovering me. "What was that??" I questioned, now blushing from seeing JJ's dick for the first time.

Of course he noticed and had to be an ass. JJ smirked at me while stroking himself. "Don't pretend you didn't like it princess.." He slows his motions down before he eventually stops. "Not saying I didn't like it- just confused. You two were literally just about to kill each other, and now you're fucking me." I say confused.

"We came to a conclusion baby. You lead JJ on..and you cheated on me. But we are ready to forgive you, if you let us have some fun with you babydoll.." Rafe simply stated, making me feel like shit because that was not my intention. I tried to counter what he said, but he just shushed me.

"Whaddya say princess?" JJ asked with a smirk. "Yea I mean...it's the least I could do.." I smile sheepishly to them. Rafe stepped between my legs and gave me a long kiss. "I love you, but I want you to understand that this is a one time thing so JJ doesn't have to keep pining after you. So whatever you want from him, make sure you get it from him now, you're still mine." Rafe explained. I'm surprised he's acting this way. He never lets anyone touch his things, especially me.

"What's first?" I asked the guys. "Just let us make you feel good baby, you won't have to do any work, unless you wanna." JJ said settling on the bed next to me. "You said anything I want?" I looked up to Rafe with glossy eyes. He nods with his arms crossed.

"JJ can I suck your dick while Rafe fucks me?" I started to blush because never in a million years did I think this would be happening. "I'd love that princess." He smiled at me.

I got off the bed and got to my knees in front of JJ. My hands sat on his thighs as my mouth lowered onto his cock. "Hmmm fuck.." He moaned out, placing his hand on my head. I felt Rafe come over and line himself up with me. "I love this fuckin skirt baby.." He says before slipping into my wet pussy, which caused me to moan on JJ's dick, which caused JJ to let out a moan of his own.

The guys were trying to set a steady pace between the both of them. JJ was bobbing my head up and down in time with Rafe's thrusts, and boy did it feel, so fucking good.

At one point they made me feel so good and I let out a long moan.

"Good Girl "

I heard them both say at the same time. A string of moans were escaping us all as they continued. Rafe was pounding into me as fast as he could. JJ was now standing with a fistful of my hair, fucking my face. I popped my mouth off of JJ and replaced it with my hand. "If you two don't stop going full force- I'm gonna cum right now.." I whine out.

They both groaned as they pulled away. I got back on the bed and sat in between them, one hand each, shooting to their hair, and massaging. They both started feeling me up, placing kisses wherever they could reach. The moment was over as fast as it came. JJ sat with his back against my headboard and pulled me to sit between his legs.

Rafe crawled onto the bed after JJ put his legs between mine to keep them spread open. I couldn't close them even if I wanted to. Rafe laid between my legs and started lightly sprinkling kisses on my lower lips.

JJ attached his lips to my neck, giving me a hickey, opposite to the one Rafe had made earlier.

Rafe moved to my clit with his mouth and inserted a few fingers into my hole. I gasped and JJ put his hands under my shirt in response.

"Why ya still wearin' this baby? Shoulda been gone a long time ago.." He says before taking my crop top off. Leaving me in my bra and my skirt. He groped my tits as Rafe sucked and fingered me. I was a moaning mess. Everything felt too good. "Guys- l-like I said before..." I say but it's too late and I cum all over Rafe's fingers.

Rafe sat up before placing his fingers in his mouth, sucking off every little drop that was left of me. "Good girl.." He smirked at me. "But, you gotta cum for JJ too princess.." Rafe stated.

I was still coming down from my high. "Cum again..?" He only nodded before sitting in the chair in front of my vanity. He turned it so he could see us sitting on the bed.

"Go ahead Maybank..." He smirked. Just as he was given the green light, JJ flipped us over so he was hovering me. "Hey there princess..." He smirked before planting a kiss on my lips. This felt so wrong to do so I looked to Rafe for some guidance.

He just sat there slowly rubbing his dick, watching us. He nodded for me to continue.

Suddenly this felt so right. I was supposed to have fun with JJ, for Rafe. JJ leaned down to my ear to whisper. "You looked so fucking good in that picture you sent me." He started kissing my neck. "I know you sent it on purpose, don't worry I won't tell him." He whispered.

His hands lifted me off the bed to take my bra off. JJ threw the garment to the side, landing in front of Rafe. He kissed me so hungrily and so passionately it almost hurt. "Jayj..." I whimpered into the kiss. He started grinding his hips against me, his dick touching my clit every time. "I know princess.." He whispered. "C'mere, I wanna make you cum in doggy." He says then plants another kiss to my lips.

I got up on my hands and knees before JJ could move me. "Wrong way baby...I wanna see your face when he fucks you..." I heard Rafe say from the chair. I turned around just like he asked. JJ got behind me when I was settled. I heard a spitting sound and a second later I felt his hand lathering my hole. "Mmmm" I moaned while I grinded back onto his fingers.

"Patience baby.." JJ said before slapping my hole which resulted in me letting out another moan. He grabbed his cock and started teasing my slut with his tip. I moved to lay on my forearms with my ass in the air. My eyes wandered over to Rafe, he was still stroking himself slowly while watching us. His lips curled up into a smirk when he saw the face I made when JJ pushed his length into pussy.

I let out a loud moan and looked Rafe in the eyes as JJ slowly rocked his hips. As JJ quickened his pace, Rafe did too. Almost like he wasn't to cum with us, but didn't want...involved..?

The room was filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping against each other as JJ fucked me senseless. Rafe had rolled his head back but his eyes stayed on us.

I felt JJ reach for my hair and pull it back, making me arch. The slightly new angle was enough to push me over the edge. "You're such a a good fucking girl for me..." JJ says as I moan out. "JJ harder.." I couldn't say anything else. It was odd moaning another mans name but they both loved it, which made me feel dirty.

JJ gladly fucked me harder. I was going between watching Rafe fuck his hand and watching JJ in the mirror. "Fuck you're so tight princess..." He dragged out. "I'm so close Jayj..." I announce with a whine. Rafe caught my attention with a low groan. I looked over and saw his cum shooting up onto his stomach.

He was still yanking himself, riding out his high, when he said "JJ I want you to cum in her fucking pussy". I couldn't help but moan, feeling JJ's thick cock in my pussy, watching Rafe cum, and him saying THAT.

JJ let go of my hair and held my hips, bringing them backwards to meet his. We were both a moaning mess and Rafe was just watching, sitting there in his mess. He looked afraid to blink, like he was going to miss something. I pushed back onto JJ's dick, wanting more, he was making me feel so good and I didn't want it to end.

"Fuck Jayj- i-im gon-gonnaaa cum" I squeal out. "Me too princess. Are you ready?" I nod after he asked. He counted us down before with both released together, screaming each other's names. I fucked myself with his dick, riding out my high.

"Good girl.." He said biting his lip, helping guide my ass. He slipped out when we were done and gave me a long sloppy kiss, trying to savor the moment, knowing it would never happen again.

Rafe walked away at some point to clean himself up, JJ and I just continued to make out to fill the silence and need. When Rafe returned we all sat on the bed talking about what just happened. "How did it feel?" Rafe asked me. "He's really good.." I say panting, getting butterflies from the recent memory. He smiled at me and JJ before speaking.

"Y/N, I loved the way your face looked when JJ was taking you from behind..." He said while rubbing my back. "I suggest we make this a regular thing." I nearly choked when I heard him say that.

Rafe Cameron...never...shares.

"I 1000% agree" JJ said almost too enthusiastically which made me giggle. "That was both the craziest and sexiest shit I've ever been a part of. Of course I'd love to." I say smiling.

He smiled and I could tell he had a mischievous thought. "Next time I wanna try something new." He smirked to me and JJ.

"I will do whatever you two want if it feels that good.." I blush, looking between both of them.

"Good girl " They are so creepy with that shit...but it's so sexyyyy.

[nadinefromwhere]

Watching you 

summary: After having an argument, he watches you word count: 570

hi em back- cutely runs away to uluru again

PLUS NOT ME WRITING THIS DURING TEST WEEK Ao3 link

wattpad link ALSO JOIN MY UPDATE LIST IF U WANNA STAY UPDATED YALL 🗣️💥Updates form 🩰

After having a fight with your boyfriend, let's just say it was a really heated one. For almost an entire week you ignored him, not even sending him a message or a call….

Wondering what the argument was about last week? Well, the thing is you were craving some tacos for dinner but instead of tacos it was steak… and the fact it was the time of the month too….

During a hot sunny day after buying groceries, the outside was kinda hot like an oven. You just wanted to go home as soon as possible and hit the pool to escape this never ending heat. Even though the grocery was indoors sadly the air conditioning wasn't helping at all as it was broken. 

You sighed feeling sweaty as you were finally at the check out, until something caught your eye.

It's just a bird. No, that's not a bird. 

Wait….

IS THAT MEPHISTO-

Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar bird outside the grocery store who was just watching in a nearby tree

“Really Sylus….. Having to send your bird all the way here…” You sighed feeling defeated as you left the store. 

Staring at the bird, you mutter under your breath until you feel a vibration in your pocket. “Who is it now” you pout as you checked your phone and find out it was Sylus who messaged Messages Sylus: seems like your pouting sweetie

“This guy….” You sighed as you started putting the grocery bags on the back of your car until you got another message on your phone. 

Messages Sylus: stop ignoring me Kitten, I know you miss me so bad right now

Deciding to reply to him back, you start typing on the phone before he sended another message Sylus: look in front of you 

You, being curious, looked forward and saw a 6 '1 man with white hair and red eyes. It was him. It was no other than Sylus, looking at you with a smirk on his face as he started walking where you were at. 

Meanwhile you on the other side were annoyed seeing him. He better not pick you up bridal style to his car….

So about the last part it went true cause as soon as he was facing you, he immediately picked you up to his car

“Hey! Why did you just pick me up like that :(“ you pout while looking at your boyfriend who had no care in the world right now 

“Someone didn’t want to reply back or either call me, that's why i picked you up” He says as he opened the car to his door, putting you down on the passenger seat

“You know you didn't had to send mephisto all the way here in the grocery” You say as you look at Sylus

“Is it because of what happened last week?” he asks

“Yes” you said still pouting as if you were a kid who had gotten there ipad taken away

“I’ll treat you to whatever you like tonight, and then after we can go to the arcade to get the new plushie you have been talking about for weeks” he says bribing you, which always works

“.....fine were also getting ice cream after and i probably have to put the groceries at my place first” you say accepting the bribe 

“And dinner is on me tonight anything for you” he says smiling 

[velvetures]

*Peeks from a corner*

Merry Christmas!

Hi um...can I just say your comfort fluff fics have made me realize just how touche-starved I personally am. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So, if I could be so bold as to ask for a fic with Soap or Gaz or Keegan with that same theme? Making sure they're taken care of, or make them feel safe enough to let their guard down for a bit?

Again, totally fine if you have other things to do, but it would really male my day if you did. Thank you and have a nice day!

- 💀

Fall Back

a/n: thank you for the request babes... I'm sorry Christmas is just now here in mid-fucking May :( I'm ashamed. Additionally, this is my first time writing for Keegan... and I'm still working out the specifics for my interpretation of his character and behavior. So this is a bit different from what I've written before. Hopefully you enjoy it. summary: Keegan's worn down to the bone. And you're there to help him. t/w's: none.

his eyes are almost identical to my husband's... why didn't I notice until now...

He only comes to you when things get too heavy to bear.

And not in the way a refrigerator empty of food, or a late rent payment would weigh on your mind. You’ve not seen the same things he has… and fuck, he’ll do anything to make sure you never do. The mere thought that any of the nightmares and constant PTSD triggers that make him jumpy could touch your conscious would send him into an entirely new mental warfare, impossible to win. No, he shows up when he needs it most. No matter what you might be doing, or how it could appear, he’s crawling on his belly with a broken look in his eyes. Pride bruised, strength dissolved, and voice rough with more pain than you thought he could ever survive.

You tried keeping the back door unlocked for him. Thinking he’d take it as a sign that your home is always welcome. It resulted in him forcing you to lock the doors and make him a key. That lasted a couple of months, and then he lost the key somewhere in Cuba. Something about a guy ripping his chain off his neck and subsequently the key to your door that he wore alongside his dog tags. He’d been quick to change all of your locks after that. And since then, he’s decided that crawling in through your bedroom window is the only way he’ll enter your house unless you’re formally inviting him in.

Maybe it’s the anti-social part of him that believes he can’t come and go as he pleases. Spending precious time sneaking into your little house instead of doing what he came for in the first place. Getting close to you. Sometimes he won’t wake you up. Just taking off his bloody-soaked gear and taking a quick wash in the shower before curling up to you in bed. Tucking you under him, and breathing in the soft smell of your soap and fresh sheets. Other times, you’ll stir away when you hear boots scuffing heavily against the floor. Hearing heavy breaths and his tac vest thumping to the floor. Witnessing what it’s like when a ghost finally runs out of hatred and cold-blooded determination.

“Are you hurt?” It’s almost always your first question. After so many missions, he’s almost always got something that needs looked at. And while you never thought that tying stitches or cleaning shallow stab wounds would be a common occurrence in your life, Keegan has made it so that your medical kit under your bathroom sink is always stocked and ready for emergency-room worthy injuries.

He’s not going to talk much, even if he’s in good shape. It’s not in his disposition. More like a shelter dog sent back too many times for growling or bearing his teeth. Wary of everything, yet so desperate for touch that he’s willing to show you exactly where a bullet grazed his thigh. About eight hours old and weeping blood, staining a pair of pants that you’ll spend time scrubbing out in the morning while doing laundry. But if you’re worried, he’s going to hide just how badly he’s hurting… if for nothing than your sake.

He’s already broken into your house again… and now bleeding all over the bathroom rug with pretty flowers you bought after the last time he made a mess in there. Constantly reminding himself it’s selfish to demand you care for him. To show up with a shitty fucking attitude and guilt you into licking his wounds when he can’t bear to do it himself, or admit to the medical staff on base that he needs it. You’re too kind for this kind of bullshit. Too sweet to run him off though. And it’s why he keeps crawling back. Greedy… hungry… insatiable… he’s always admonishing himself for just how little control he possesses when there’s an opportunity to leave you alone, or place himself right in the middle of your life again.

“Everyone come back alive?”

Keegan has a love hate relationship with that particular question. Debating on whether or not he likes that you worry for his teammates in such an honest way; or if he’s so jealous of your mind wandering to them, and what fucked-up things they do during missions that it’s almost unbearable to hear you ask it.

“Alive.” He breathes out steadily as you thread your stitching through his skin for an eighth time, tying another knot over his twitching and aching muscles.

You’re always asking questions about the missions. About what he had to do, if he got hurt, where they went… it’s innocent enough. You mean well. But he never can tell you much. Protective instinct and top secret red tape make much of the details not worth the risk of divulging. But he’s patient with you. Giving away small hints maybe by saying a few words in a native language, or talking about a particular landmark that might’ve been close enough that you can make a guess from there. At this point, you’ve learned at least a few words in: German, Russian, Thai, and multiple hispanic dialects. A smart woman, of course, but he’s always surprised when you connect his work to something you’ve seen on the news.

It’s like you’re always watching for him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Maybe you do look out for him in more ways than one. Not bothering with the fact that you’d already completed your nightly routine, just to strip down and get a shower running. Rubbing out strained shoulders with soft hands, and gently thumbing out the thick knots in his lower back. It’s the only pressure he’s willing to accept in this state. Merely breathing just to live for more of your touch. Keegan can’t even bother with soap, and had it not been for you, he wouldn’t have at all. Feeling you scrub down every inch of him. Much more like a maid than… well… he still didn’t know what kind of label to put on this relationship.

There were too many variables and more questions than he could answer. Sure it was… transactional at times, but he’d be remiss to ignore all of the ways you occupied his thoughts when it wasn’t appropriate to. And you always do more than you’re supposed to. Just like now. Wrapping your arms around him for behind and kissing over his shoulder blades. Humming a soft tune and letting your fingertips trace over his stomach. Any man should be able to admit that he’s weak for it… but Keegan can’t readily do that.

Fighting his own heart pounding in his chest as you sway him back and forth. Wishing he could let this feeling go. Be a stronger man. Be a better ghost and lock himself away behind the gear and guns. Fuck. You’re so good at it though. Stripping him down to nothing, even when he thought there wasn’t anything else left. Soothing aches and kissing away pains he blocked out for so long that he felt like had disappeared. You are smarter than that. You know how his mind works whether he likes it or not. How willing he is to go from hell and back so many times that he’s unsure of what kind of being he truly is. Caught between worlds of warfare and the softer one where you always welcome him back, knowing that within a few days the gore will call him back for service.

“Sleep on the couch…” He mutters, standing with a towel slung around his hips and a bleary look in satin light-blue eyes. “Don’t wanna stain your sheets.”

He’d seen them upon arrival; crisp white and hundred-dollar softness he didn’t want to touch. Between the blood and feeling of getting spoiled to them, it wasn’t worth it to him. He’d done it before without much thought, but this time something was making him attempt responsibility.

“Then I’m coming with you, Russ.”

You’re smiling that damned smile he dreams about. That one where the gap between your front teeth shows and the dimpled skin on your cheeks shadows just enough to make him forget that you’re human. Angelic. Teasing… Gracefully not leaving him room for an argument. Simply turning around and headed towards the bedroom without another word as to if he’d be choosing to lay cramped on your couch. Hell, it’s four in the morning, and your mind is sharp enough to play with him just enough that he’s stalking back into the dark room and watching you crawl into the bed with an expectant, innocent look directed at him.

Keegan can’t help it.

He’s under the sheets and unceremoniously reaching for you without hesitation. Feeling his callouses catch on your skin and wincing when he hears his rough palms scratch at you. No matter how rough it feels, you’re still sliding closer. Careful of bruises and cuts, tucking yourself against him and using one arm to guide his head against your chest. Laying just above him. Incentivizing him to hug tightly to you and tuck his head under your chin. Allowing this unfeeling soldier to hide in the temporary shelter of your heartbeat.

You rub his head, and feel short, clipped, hair tickle your fingertips. Soft from a shampoo and condition after weeks away in sand that made the bathroom floor feel gritty. You’re almost always pressing kisses to his forehead and using your other hand to rub over his brow bone and bridge of his nose. Seeing in the nighttime shadow where his face paint has settled into wrinkles that you didn’t manage to wash off in the shower. Looking at long, black eyelashes that flutter a bit when you scratch up and down the back of his neck.

“You’re so pretty…” You always talk to him like this. Unable to keep from spouting praise that wells up after long periods of not knowing if he’s alive, let alone safe.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s dangerous. Maybe even a monster in some people’s eyes. But it’s a necessary evil, and it’s something you came to terms with easily. Because you didn’t just see him for the guns and direct orders. You got to witness moments like this where he’s nothing but a man in desperate need of humanity. Hungry for connection. Soft touches… and whether he liked it or not, the praises that you whisper against his pink-tipped ears.

“You’re the pretty one, dollie.” He grumbles back, squeezing your hip in a big hand.

It makes your face heat up just ask quickly when he pulls that one out. Almost always with a nickname up his sleeve that just makes it all that much more worth it. But being anything other than your own name to him… it’s a different kind of reward. One that has you smiling like a fool as you get sleepier. Nearly petting him to sleep, and hoping to god you can stay awake longer than he does just to prove you’re willing to. Maybe willing isn’t even strong enough…

Any way you think about it, there’s a sense of duty you hold much like his to a career as a ghost. Yours stemming from love so deep for this man that it’s painful watching him crawl to you as a last resort. Despising what or whoever made him feel like wanting a warm bed, and someone to look after him when he’s weak, is wrong. God it’s enough to make you angry. Looking down at a man who could make anyone tremble, and seeing him curled up against your chest like he’s clinging to a shred of comfort. If you thought picking up a gun alongside him would change things, you’re certain you’d have done it years ago. Right when all of this started and Keegan was much more proud. Unwilling to relent as easily as he does now.

But it took that long because there wasn’t another option.

He wouldn’t have allowed it if you were any different of a person, or hadn’t possessed the patience for him to let go like this. You’re positive no one knows that this is where he runs to when things get too hard. None of his team, and with no family to speak of, you’re left as his final resort, but the only one he trusts. Unlike Keegan who avoids his medal pinnings with sheer hatred, you wear your designation proudly. You’re always shining it… polishing it… looking for the first opportunity to show just how willing you are. Just for the chance to hold him. Anything to feel his breathing even out after weeks of holding it. Anything to clean him up. Put him back together.

All while silently praying that it’ll be the last time. Wishing he’d see that you aren’t a last resort, and that he can lay here as long as he wants without losing the worth he assigned to himself after becoming a ghost. Wondering when it’ll come to an end where he can come back and hang up the guns laying on your bedroom floor, forever. Patiently anticipating the day you can not have to wait until he’s asleep to say exactly how you feel.

“I love you, Keegan…”

comments & reblogs are always appreciated 🤎

[gogobootz1]

Paperback Writer

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finds a stray journal at the Hard Deck, he makes it his personal mission to return it to its owner. But not before reading what's inside.

Word Count: 2.4k

Top Gun Masterlist

You've spent the last four hours at this bar and still haven't come up with a thing. The newest page in your notebook stares back at you, entirely blank. Well, blank, save for the water ring your mojito has left on it. Only the ice cubes have been left for a while now, and you sip sadly at them as you stare off at the water. Maybe a beach day will inspire you.

Sighing, you close your notebook and push it toward the wall. You don't want to think about the deadline that is slowly closing in on you. A new book, and only about two months left to complete it. It had been three, but you've spent the last month at a complete loss.

This whole night, going to dinner, going to a bar, has been with the intention of finding inspiration. You still haven't found it, so now it's time to find your way home. Pushing yourself away from the table, you peel yourself from your chair and settle up with the nice lady at the bar.

You look out at the ocean again on your walk home. It's extremely nice of your agent to let you stay at her and her wife's beach home. Pam had granted you this accommodation in the hopes it would kickstart your writing. To the extent of her knowledge, it has. She's been worried about you after you argued with the publishing company over a sequel. You fought tooth and nail for the opportunity to work on something totally new. After the commercial success of your debut novel, however, they were reluctant to pass up their chance at a sequel.

Your publishing company clearly hadn't been expecting such an exorbitant amount of copies to sell. Frankly, neither had you. By some stroke of luck or divine intervention, Taylor Swift picked up your book, read it, and posted it on her Instagram story. Stores could hardly keep it on shelves after that.

Now your publishers are simply hoping to milk the cash cow. You can't really blame them, but soon, when you don't have a second novel to give them, they're going to blame you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Thanks for cleaning up, you two," Penny calls from behind the bar. Maverick had practically begged Bradley to stay and help so that he and Penny could start their date early. After some negotiating, he happily acquiesced.

"No problem, Penny," Rooster calls back, sending a smug look at Pete, who narrows his eyes at him. They're just about finished wiping tables, and he can tell Mav is more than ready to leave.

Bradley turns to wipe the last table but stops when he sees a leather-bound journal sitting near the window. He picks it up, turning it over in his hands.

"Done. Let's go, Pen," Mav says, rushing his girlfriend. Penny finally drops the rag she'd been wiping the bar with.

"I've still gotta lock up," she says, lightly mocking.

"I can do it, Penny," Rooster says, not taking his eyes off the journal.

"Thanks, kid," Mav smiles, whisking his girlfriend away. "Keys are on the bar. I owe you one!"

Bradley just barely hears Penny's protests as Pete rushes her out. He figures he'd better get home, himself. Giving the table a cursory wipe, he heads toward the bar to grab the keys.

Suddenly his eyes land on the lost and found bucket. Most of the Hard Deck's patrons are locals and regulars. The bin is almost always empty, and when it isn't, people always come back for whatever's inside.

Bradley looks at the journal again. Surely no one would be coming back for this tonight, though. And would they really notice if it had been flicked through? Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Bradley takes a stool at the bar and starts reading.

After a few pages, he starts to realize just what the journal is. It's no diary, none of the juicy details of someone's personal life that he had nosily been hoping for. No. It's a book, or some sort of story, at least. It's a good one, too. Bradley takes a sidelong glance at the clock and finds he's stayed for an hour longer than he intended.

He grabs the keys and locks everything up for Penny, not bothering to put his find in the lost and found.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bradley can’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but he's certain that it wasn’t before he’d read the vast majority of the journal. His neck is stiff from crashing on his couch, but he has a new interest in finding whoever wrote this. 

He hasn't been that interested in a book in a while, and he'd be remiss if the author doesn't get their work back. Especially when the work is so incredible. Bradley's never considered himself the most avid reader. He only reads when he's got the time and wouldn't rather be watching the game. This book, however, has him hooked. He thinks it should be on shelves, selling out all over the world. He only needs to find this person to tell them that.

Where do people write their names in their journals?

He makes a face, confronted by his own stupidity, and flips to the front page. Sure enough, on the back of the cover is a woman's name and address. Bradley's not quite sure if people knock on each other's doors nowadays, or if that's entirely creepy, but he's willing to find out.

Once his fist is inches away from her door, Bradley hesitates before knocking. Is it creepy that he's here? Is it creepy that he read the journal? He's willing to admit that one. Should he tell the author he read it at all? Maybe he should pretend he didn't. Can he fake being a Good Samaritan when he really wants to ask this woman about her writing? He doesn't have time to answer these questions for himself before the door swings open on its own.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You recoil when you realize someone's standing on the front porch. "Hello?" You're certain you don't know this man. He's too pretty for you to know him, and you'd at least remember him if you did.

"Hi," he responds stiltedly.

You look at him questioningly, "can I help you?"

"Yes! Actually," he holds up your journal, "is this yours?"

"Oh my god," you snatch your notebook out of his hands, "Where'd you find it?"

"You must've left it at the bar last night," he shrugged.

"Well, thanks," you smile, putting it in your tote bag.

"No problem, yeah. Wouldn't want to lose all that work," he nods. You look up suddenly.

"You read it?"

The man grimaces when he realizes he's outed himself. "Sorry," he cringes, "I'm too nosy for my own good. But can I just say that this is incredible? Really! This could be a book!"

Your face falls, and you look at him blankly, "it is." 

"No!" He shakes his head. "I mean- well, yes, it is. And that's a great attitude to have, but what I'm trying to say is that you need to find a publisher. This is-"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. Reaching into your giant beach bag, you grab your sunglasses and shove them onto your face. Stepping out onto the porch, you grab a real copy of your book from your bag and plop it in his hands. "That’s really not my problem right now, hot stuff. Have a good one,” you lock up your house and start walking towards the beach.

He doesn't follow you until a few seconds later.

"You mean you're already a published author?" You hear from behind you. You roll your eyes and keep walking, but he easily catches up. "What I read was just-"

"The prototype to what seven million American women have already consumed? Yeah," you nod.

"Holy shit!" He says, and you just hum in agreement. "So wait, what is your problem then?" You stop in the middle of the path. You haven't even said it out loud yet.

"They want another one," you admit quietly.

"That's great!" He says excitedly. You slowly turn and remove your sunglasses to level him with a glare, "...or not?"

"No, stranger, it's not great."

"I'm Bradley," he interrupts.

You barrel on, "You know when they want the sequel by?" Bradley shakes his head. "The end of next month!" You practically shout, and he cringes.

"And how much do you have done?"

Your face falls. "One," you say reluctantly, holding up a solitary finger.

"Chapter?" He asks hopefully.

"Word!"

Bradley grimaces, "What's the word?" You huff.

"'The' and the thing is, I don't even like it. I'm gonna go back and delete it." You give an exaggerated shrug, seemingly distraught.

"That's probably a bad idea," he says gently.

"Oh? And what do you know about writing novels?" Your tone is biting.

"Not a damn thing, but I know a thing or two about speed. At a certain point, you just have to keep going," he offers.

"Thank you for that wisdom, speed racer," you snap, sauntering away.

He stands there stunned. 

“Wait!" Bradley jogs to catch up to where you're still marching onto the beach.

As soon as he's next to you, you barrel on. “How am I supposed to give them a sequel to a story I thought was over?” 

“Huh?” He feels like he's still playing catch-up as he matches your pace.

“And I told them - I swore to God that if they made me write a sequel, I'd probably end up accidentally plagiarizing any given Remington Steele episode. But, nooooooo they insisted,” you vent.

“Remington Steele?” Bradley raises a brow.

“Okay, you don’t get to judge my 80s preferences when you look like that!” You gesture to his general appearance, Hawaiian shirt, porn stache, and all. Not that it's not working for you.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

"I've done everything. Really. Everything to try and inspire some writing. I go outside," you gesture to the outdoors around you. "I've switched the font on my computer to comic sans," Bradley visibly grimaces in response to this, and you nod at him. "Hell, yesterday I went on a run."

"I don't feel like that's all that abnormal," he ventures.

You look at him, stricken, "I've never been on a run."

"Never?"

"Not in my life," you confirm. "It didn't even help, and now my legs hurt."

"It does kind of seem like you're hobbling," he nods.

Your eyes widen, "Gee, thanks," you bite out.

"You can probably chalk it up to poor form," Bradley tries to console you. "You're supposed to land on the front of your foot when you're running."

You shake your head. "They always want to teach you something," you mumble.

"What was that?" He looks over innocently. The two of you stand at the entryway to the beach. You decide it's time to make your goodbyes to the near stranger you've confessed half your current life problems to.

"Look, that's very nice of you," your words lack some sincerity. "You seem like a nice guy, and you're very attractive, but I don't really want to get better at running. What I want is to get better at writing, which is my job, and usually, I can do it. But right now, I'm broken, so what I will do is lay in the sun and crisp like a piece of fried chicken. Bye, now!" You say cheerily, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and bounding away towards an appealing-looking plot of sand.

All Bradley can do is watch as his new favorite author walks off. He drives home and finishes the official, hand-gifted copy of your book in one sitting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A week later, Bradley is once again at the Hard Deck. This time it's Mav's birthday, and the whole squad is celebrating before they all go their separate ways. The Navy gave everyone a month off after the Uranium mission, so this is simultaneously a celebration and a goodbye.

He steps out onto the deck to enjoy the ocean view. Bradley is pleased to find a familiar figure that lies a few meters away from the bar.

"Let me guess, you're crisping like a piece of chicken again?" You hear a voice call from above you. Suspicious of the intrusion on your private beach sulking session, you look up to find the handsome man who'd tried to return your journal the other day.

"Actually, I'm boiling like a lobster," you correct.

"Ah, my mistake," Bradley nods sagely. "Mind if I sit?"

"Okay..." you agree, silently questioning his motives.

"I had an idea," he starts. "The main character in the first book," you nod, encouraging him to continue. "You mentioned her younger sister."

"I did," you agree, not understanding where he's going with this.

"Write the new book about her," Bradley says simply, shrugging.

You stare at him for a moment, processing this thought. After a bit, your jaw drops. How did you not think of this yourself? A slew of ideas pop into your brain, and you lunge for your bag, hoping to grab your journal and write them all down.

"Are you okay?" He asks. You hold up a finger, silently asking for him to give you a second. In a hurry, you scribble down a giant bulleted list. You can't help but wish your hand moved as fast as your brain. Bradley gives a weak call of your name, concerned by the new burst of hyperactivity. It pulls your attention away from the final bullet point you've just made.

"I think you're a genius," you breathe out, looking at him in awe.

He seems shocked, "it was just an idea."

"No, no," you remain firm, "you're brilliant, and you've just saved my life." A grin pulls across his face at your words. "Pam is gonna be so stoked," you say, standing and starting to pack your things. You pause all of a sudden and reach for your notebook again. You scribble something else and tear out a sliver of paper.

You hand it over to him, and his gaze flicks over a series of hastily written numbers. Your phone number. Bradley slowly stands up.

"Breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, dessert, movie, ice cream, drinks- whatever you want, on me," you say in a rush. You take about two steps toward your car, hoping to call Pam and confirm that you can go in this creative direction before his voice stops you.

"How about a date?" He asks, looking after you.

You turn over your shoulder and smirk, "That was the idea."

____________________________________________________

Rooster taglist (open): @tallyovie

I hope everyone is having another very Top Gun summer <3

[blue-jisungs]

infinity

summary. by a rather unpleasant string of events you find out who… or what your boyfriend really is

warnings. swearing, blood, violence (?) but nothing extreme, (a pinch of angst if u will)

au. vampire!wonwoo

a/n. first of all i’d like to thank zanna ( @slytherinshua ) , ola ( @l3visbby ) and kermit (@humongousbiscuitvoidtree ) for helping me out with certain aspects of this work!! tbh without you i wouldn’t write it <\3 so thank you sm, love you and check their blogs if you haven’t already >:T

second of all, i don’t want to spoil everything but as you can see from the au its a vampire thingy teehee but! i based the creations of vampires on the witcher (mostly the books/part 3 of the game (esp blood and wine))! i’m such a sucker for the witcher (without the tv series lol) so you know i had to teehee!! it’s pretty much briefly explained later in the work but if someone is interested i definitely recommend diving into the witcher or even checking it out on wiki!

word count. 4.7k 😟 the longest work of mine on tumblr 😟😟😟

wonwoo loves you. he’s sure that he never loved anyone like this before. if it was possible, he’d spend his entire life; infinity with you. if only.

you feel the same way, obviously. you can always feel the presence of his love, even if he himself may not be around. you love him so much that you sometimes feel as if your heart was about to jump out of your chest. he must feel it too because his pupils grow wider a bit (and he thinks you don’t see it). even his friends, including mingyu who knew him for like forever, told you he’s head over heels for you which made you melt on the spot.

you’ve been together for 6 years now and life with him is anything and more than you could have ever wanted. wonwoo is patient, funny and above all, caring. sometimes it makes you wonder what you did in your past life to deserve this; him.

“i’m home!” you call out, putting the groceries on the countertop. there was not only his shoes next to the doorstep but also someone else’s… if you were to take a guess, you’d bet it was mingyu.

you let out a deep sigh, reaching for a iced tea you bought for yourself.

your classes today were… harsh, to say at least. all you needed today was wonwoo’s arms around you. and a good nap.

overall your days were horrible lately. the ridiculous amount of uni work, your part time job and social life in general. there’s a new guy at your job and you can’t figure out what’s his problem with you. he’s always staring, throwing mean comments at you… the other day he almost got you fired.

you still haven’t talked about this with wonwoo. and you didn’t really want to because lately he seemed busy with something else. but if his - junwoo’s - behaviour is going to go on, you’ll reach out.

you closed your eyes, trying to forget it. you’re home now, it’s all good. just take a shower and go to bed.

you finished your ice tea and grabbed two that were left in your shopping bag. you passed by wonwoo’s office and knocked at the door gently. and before you could even move your hand away, your boyfriend called you in.

as you opened the door, as predicted, saw mingyu. he smiled at you. they were sitting at the desk, looking over at some papers.

“hi guys. hi baby” you hummed, trying to keep a positive tone. you walked up to wonwoo, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

you put down the two bottles and smiled at them.

“i’ll go to sleep, i’m exhausted” you announced quietly and wonwoo nodded, sending you a warm smile.

“of course… i didn’t even realise it got so late. good night, dear” he hummed. you walked away, sending them a small wave and closed the door behind you. with a deep sigh you started mentally questioning if you have enough strength to do your skin care.

nowadays there is something important going on since wonwoo isn’t home a lot. he’s asleep when you wake up in the morning to attend your classes, sometimes you manage to share a quick cup of coffee. and when you’re back home from work late evening, he’s absent. you always text him once you’re home and when you check the other day, the read hour says something around 1am. it’s exhausting, it really is.

“nonu…” you mumbled quietly, entering your living room at some lazy sunday. weekends were the only days you could catch up, even a bit. he turned his head immediately, eyes landing on you.

“is something wrong?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“well… no. actually, yeah” you huffed and sat down next to him on the couch. he closed his book and a playful smile spread on your lips when you see it’s twilight, again.

“what’s wrong, darling?” wonwoo asked, shifting his full attention to you. he can sense you’re nervous so he grabs your hand. it feels like eternity since he did that, let alone kiss you properly or–

“i miss you” you pouted, avoiding eye contact.

“but i’m here” wonwoo teases you but let’s go when you don’t even snicker “‘m sorry. i know, work has been stressful lately. seungcheol got into some trouble and you know how it is…”

“i really don’t. we don’t even talk that much anymore. i know that it’s your work but it’s just….” you babbled, finally gaining courage to look up at him. your heart clenched at the sight of his sad frown “but i know how you can make it up for me…”

“oh?” the corner of wonwoo’s mouth shifts up, his smirk making you dizzy. asshole. with a tilt of his head, his gaze pierces you but at the same time, it’s soft. and loving. “tell me then”

“well, first of all a kiss. seco–“ you were interrupted by his plush lips on yours. as you melted into the kiss, wonwoo effortlessly grabbed your hips and put you on his lap. with a small bite of your bottom lip, he made you gasp. you felt him smile playfully into the kiss before he continued to knock the air out of your lungs. your hands travelled to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair.

when you finally pulled away, cheeks glowing red, wonwoo put a stray strand of your hair back behind your ear.

“done. and the second part?” he breathed out, admiring your flustered face.

“a date” you giggled, hands shifting to cup his face.

“a date?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows.

“we can even go and dig garbage out, i don’t care. just take me on a date, mr jeon” you squished his cheeks, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.

“okay, ms l/n, next friday then. we’re going to dig through garbage” wonwoo sent you a boyish smile and you smacked his arm. finally, your place was filled with your laughters again.

you were waiting impatiently, the minutes on the clock passing painfully slow. wonwoo was supposed to pick you up at 6pm and then you were supposed to go… somewhere. he said it’s a surprise, so you weren’t fully sure what was is.

you decided to wear a cute dress and a cardigan that he gifted you on your birthday. it was your favourite piece of clothing and it went perfectly with the dress.

you played a goofy game that was on your phone, trying to kill some time.

you figured it will be the perfect opportunity to tell wonwoo about junwoo, your co-worker. days passed and his behaviour got even worse. you were uncomfortable around him, your job draining you mentally. and you hated that because to be frank, you loved your job. you loved making baked goods, displaying them and serving customers. and now your, somehow, safe place is making you sick even when you’re just thinking about it.

suddenly your phone dinged.

nonu<3: darling i’m so sorry

nonu<3: i won’t be able to make it

nonu<3: let’s postpone it to next friday, okay?

nonu<3: seungcheol said he’ll pay

your heart dropped. putting down your phone gently you felt tears gathering at your water line.

nonu<3: love you

“love you too” you mumbled and went straight to bed, not bothering to take your makeup off.

when wonwoo came back around 3am, he wasn’t surprised to see you’re fast asleep. there was a little hope in him that you’d wait; that’d you won’t be mad. but who was he gonna fool? when he noticed you fell asleep without changing into your pyjamas, wiping off your makeup and clutching his pillow tight to your chest his heart stung painfully. then he went to grab makeup wipes to remove your mascara stains.

you haven’t talked to wonwoo since then. a week passed by, making you wonder if he’s truly going to take you on a date.

you were just ending your shift, unfortunately with junwoo. you were wiping the tables while he was counting up today’s profit.

“so, that boyfriend of yours…”

the question felt like a bomb, echoing in the empty room. you looked up at junwoo annoyed, his gaze piercing your soul.

“he’s very lovely” you scoffed, looking outside the window. it was already dark outside, not to mention that you still have to go through the park to arrive at your bus stop. normally wonwoo would pick you up…

“is he?”

you ignored the question, moving to the last table. last table and you’re gone. you just need to grab your bag. to do that you have to… shit. you have to pass him by. maybe you don’t need your stuff? you could leave it and– what are you thinking, your id and everything is in it.

“wonwoo is hiding something from you, isn’t he?” junwoo’s voice send shivers down your spine and when you gulped, you could hear his scoff. wait.

“how do you know his name?” you asked, hands trembling.

“i’m friend of a friend you see. but wonwoo once betrayed me…”

your grip on the cloth you were holding tightened, heart speeding up. why this feels like a scene from a crime show…?

“would you like to know something about your lovely boyfriend?” junwoo asked, done with his task.

“uh sure, hit me. we don’t have secrets though!” you laughed nervously and looked at the table. squeaky clean.

you heard footsteps.

looking up you noticed junwoo holding your bag with a playful smile.

“he’s a vampire”

you looked at him in disbelief. then you let out a laugh, shaking your head.

“that’s funny. you’re a funny guy junwoo, wow! a vampire, huh? good one, really–“ your voice died out in your throat when he stepped closer, his hand reaching out.

you snatched your bag from it, dropping the cloth on the floor.

“he’s a vampire. like me” junwoo hummed. normally you’d throw a joke about edward cullen but your coworker canines suddenly made sense.

“oh. cool. i’ll get going though, bye!” you yelled out panicked and rushed to the door. with a slam you ran out of the café, the fresh evening air making you realise how much you were suffering there.

you’re safe. just straight to the park and then bus stop and then home and then… your - apparently vampire - boyfriend.

you took out your phone with shaky and sweaty hands, the speed of your walk faster than ever before in your life.

you started bombarding him with texts - not even caring about the typos - and called him a couple of times but he wasn’t responding.

just when you were about to call him again, you felt… strange. mentally cursing at the city council for not putting lamps in the park you started running. your gut told you to. your gut also told you not to look around.

but you did.

you let out a shocked scream when you saw junwoo. in a blink of an eye he was suddenly one step behind you, grabbing you by your baby pink cardigan. the one wonwoo gifted you.

“leave me alone!” you screamed but the force of the pull was so powerful that you tripped back. luckily, you landed on your back first.

your phone fell out from your hand. you wanted to grab it, but junwoo stepped on your hand. you whined in pain, crunching up.

“see, i’m having a struggle right now. should i already kill you or wait for wonwoo to arrive. because… you think he’s coming, right?” junwoo’s voice echoed in your head.

to be honest, you weren’t sure.

your heart was beating at an inhuman speed right now, trying to figure out what to do.

“but we can have a small compromise” junwoo took off his foot from your hand, causing you to instinctively bring it closer. the tears in your eyes blurred your vision but you managed to suddenly roll over away. “i’ll scratch you up just a tiny bit. if he makes it in time, he might be able to save you”

“fuck off” you grunted and tried to stand up. as you wanted to run away, he kicked the back of your knees. you were helpless to prevent from falling, only to put the weight on your hands. if that hurt, you weren’t ready for the upcoming pain in your thigh, just in your femoral artery.

wonwoo came back home and from the moment he opened the door, he knew something was off.

your shoes weren’t messily thrown on the ground. you didn’t bring leftovers from the café. the apartment was quiet and dark. no smell of baked goods and your perfume, no sound of your calm breathing. or of your heartbeat. you weren’t home.

while nervously scratching his neck wonwoo tried to recall if he forgot about something. maybe you went out with your friends? but no, you’d leave a message… right? maybe you decided to leave him? or… oh. the date.

he pulled out his phone but didn’t see any notifications from you.

his - usually slow - heartbeat sped up, breath stuck in his throat. did you really leave him? he knew it was bad, he felt like he was neglecting you; duh, he knew it. he felt so helpless because seungcheol just needed help with that one guy who appeared in town lately but…

he couldn’t believe you didn’t even text him.

that’s when he noticed something on his phone.

a small moon icon next to the hour.

he frowned, swiping down. do not disturb. oh. how did he even put do not disturb on? after a five hundred years he’s still getting used to all of that technology but– whatever.

his eyes widened upon seeing like a thousand notifications from you and almost the same amount of missed calls.

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: wonwoo jelp

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: theres a guy ar mw work he creeped me our roday

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: he said youre a vampire lol

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: imomw home but im so fucking scared my hands arw shakinr so much

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: i love you sobmicj but please pick ip

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: km enywrinf the park roghr niw but i feel so strange

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: do i turn aeousn????

the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: wonwoo please answer im so sxared

wonwoo slammed the door, almost tripping down the stairs. a guy at your work? why haven’t you told him? okay, you’ll talk later. right now he has to get to the park. you’re fine. you’re gonna be safe, he’ll get there quickly. even if you managed to get on the bus–

he entered his car, calling you. you’ll surely pick up, right? you’ll pick up and tell him you’re fine, you’re on the bus now, you’re safe.

suddenly his car door opened and someone sat at the passenger’s seat. wonwoo turned his head and looked at mingyu flabbergasted.

“what are you–” wonwoo breathed out, his hands shaking. you aren’t picking up.

“what’s the name of the café y/n works at?” mingyu asked. wonwoo threw away his phone, starting the car.

“moon made… something like that. why? i literally do not care right now, she’s–“

“junwoo works there”

wonwoo choked on air, taking a sharp turn. mingyu, who haven’t put his seatbelt on, slammed onto the door.

“fuck”

his friend quickly fastened his seatbelts and gulped upon seeing seeing how the numbers on the counter rose threateningly.

“y/n is in danger, she messaged me… and– what if– do you think he…?” wonwoo breathed out. mingyu, his friend of almost four hundred years, have never seen him so emotional. even when in 1722 wonwoo was about to literally die - because of a fight he got with a higher vampire, seungcheol - he was stoic. calm. normal.

“i don’t know. seungcheol is on his way, he told me he’ll rip his head apart if he hurts you or y/n but…” mingyu sighed, grabbing wonwoo’s phone. he put the password (the date of the day when you two started dating) and looked at the texts. it doesn’t look good.

“it doesn’t… look good, does it? fuck i’m so pissed at myself. somehow i put the do not disturb thing on and i missed all the notifications” wonwoo grunted and looked around “we’re nearby. please hold on…”

“wonwoo…” mingyu started slowly “i know you’re emotional right now but please… please don’t do anything stupid. you’re both higher vampires, this can end tragically”

“i don’t care. as long as y/n is safe and fucking alive. you know what that psychopath did in 1800!” wonwoo hissed, taking another sharp turn.

“i know! that’s the reason why we took seungcheol’s side!” just as he said that, mingyu was prepared for the turn and held onto his dear life to the door grip. wonwoo pulled over and left the car, slamming the door.

it didn’t take long before they located you. wonwoo’s heart clenched painfully upon hearing your cries and hard pants without seeing you.

“i smell blood” he grumbled, looking at mingyu. the thing was that mingyu stopped drinking blood like hundred years ago, he was fine. wonwoo, on the other hand, restricted his drinking but fully stopped when he met you. comparing 6 years to almost 500…

the smell was getting stronger and your heartbeat slower. then he saw you. on the ground, sobbing harshly. a growing puddle of crimson liquid was pooling under your right leg.

“y/n look, your boyfriend!” junwoo’s voice made him sick, not to mention that he nudged your leg with his. like you were nothing.

“nonu?” you whispered, fighting to keep your eyes open. it was barely a whisper to be honest but due to his hearing he was able to catch it.

he started walking towards you but junwoo clicked his tongue.

“stay there, traitor” he growled, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants “move an inch and she’ll be a lifeless body. same goes to you, mingyu”

“what do you want?” wonwoo asked, afraid that if he’s gonna look away for a second, you’ll…

“honestly? seungcheol. but i figured i’d be more fun to watch him suffer… and that human girlfriend of yours seems to matter a lot for you. and you mean a lot to him. well, her too. simple as that. the things in the way aren’t a big deal either. if i have to kill her or you to get to him… it’ll be at least endearing” he explained.

“listen i know i… betrayed you. but you killed innocent people, junwoo. just as you’re about to do with my girlfriend. leave her out of this and no one will get hurt” wonwoo talked slowly, your breathing getting slower.

“you didn’t hear a thing i just said, huh? i don’t care. or maybe i’ll give her to the werewolves? they’re not friends of mine but i’m sure they’ll like her” junwoo said and kneeled. he cupped your face, fingers digging into your jaw with force.

you felt like life was escaping from you, like air from a popped balloon. with the rest of the strength you had, you gathered your saliva and spat at him.

both mingyu and wonwoo were speechless.

junwoo slowly wiped his face and your boyfriend realised something. if junwoo wanted to bare his claws - and he just might to that - they’d go straight through your skin.

but something or rather, someone stops him from doing that. or doing anything in general.

seungcheol’s silhouette would go unnoticed by humans or even some lower vampires.

he yanks junwoo backwards by his shirt.

“if you wanted to talk to me, you’re more than welcome. but leave the fuck wonwoo and y/n alone” he hissed, immediately attacking him “and i made a promise to myself that if you hurt them, you’ll–“

“be dead, i assume. you’re worse than the werewolves” junwoo hissed.

wonwoo rushed to you, not caring about them. seungcheol will manage. he’s a higher vampire, probably older than all of you gathered here. he’s strong.

and you’re not.

he’s falling onto his knees, taking you in his arms immediately. wonwoo scans your face quickly, nothing than the marks from the grip, and moves to check the rest of your body.

then, he sees the wound. a deep cut on your thigh, precisely aimed at your main artery. other than that your hand was probably twisted. but the literal bleeding made him panic. because who knows how many time you have left considering the fact that junwoo cut open one of the critical parts of the blood system.

“wonwoo?” you mutter, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“it’s me, darling. it’s me, please– forgive me. i’m so sorry i should’ve-“ he started mumbling apologies like a broken record, tears gathering at his waterline.

“it’s fine, you’re here now” you mumbled, grabbing his hand with both of yours “i love you so much…”

“hey, hey. i know. i know, y/n, i love you to. but you’ll be fine. i promise” he breathed out, pressing his forehead against yours. his mind was racing with thoughts. he won’t manage to get you to the hospital. it’s way too far. he could stop the bleeding but assuming from the amount of blood you already lost— would it help? he feels helpless while you’re dying in his hands. it’s just a matter of seconds.

“nonu… you’re a vampire?” you gasp suddenly, one of your hands going to clutch his shirt. he nodded, still deep in his thought “then you can– turn me…?”

“bite her, wonwoo” mingyu suddenly appeared behind his back

“but i never– not on purpose–“ wonwoo grunted and stiffened once he saw your eyelids dropping “i don’t–“

“do it” a barely audible plea left your mouth, your hands slipping from his chest; your face scrunched up in pain. everything was going dark, your eyelids more and more heavy.

“it might hurt…” wonwoo warned before baring his fangs; he dived into the left side of your neck, a sharp sting bringing you back to reality for a brief moment. you sobbed harshly before a sudden blackout hit you.

your blood was sweet; the sweetest he has ever tried. wonwoo felt you losing consciousness, your body in his arms like a puppet. your heartbeat halted.

suddenly seungcheol came back, blood splattered on his face.

“that asshole is dead. what’s with y/n…?” he asked quietly. wonwoo pulled away, taking a deep breath. a trickle of crimson blood went down your neck. wonwoo looked at his friends; the tears in his eyes making seungcheol… sad.

“she’ll be fine” seungcheol mumbled. wonwoo grabbed your stiff body in a bridal style; he felt the warmth escaping from you “i can feel it”

“take her home” mingyu hummed, noticing the way wonwoo looked at you “let us know once she wakes up. because she will”

he nodded, for the first time in a long time not sure about the rightness of his decision.

you opened your eyes slowly, your body overtaken by pain. you felt weird; somehow cold.

the first thing you saw was wonwoo on the edge of the bed. his head was leaning downwards, eyes closed. he must have been thinking about something because his brows were furrowed, a deep crease between them. he looked like he haven’t slept for days.

you shifted carefully, noticing the bandage on your hand. the memories suddenly flooded you back; causing you to wince.

wonwoo suddenly felt your arms around his waist, his body jerking in surprise.

“y/n?” he asked, voice cracking.

“tell me it was a bad dream, please. or that you’re real” you whispered, shaking.

wonwoo hugged you back, placing a hand at the back of your head.

“i’m here, i’m real. it’s all good now i promise” he mumbled into your hair, afraid to let you go.

you sobbed into his chest, his embrace feeling like a dream after all of the events.

when you pulled away, he looked at you with so much care in his eyes in almost hurt. you tried to gather your thoughts, trying to think of the best way how to ask him about everything. as you did so, your hand traveled to your neck and you were surprised to feel a bandage there. right.

“i’m sorry if that hurt” he mumbled shyly

“it’s fine. but… what… what am i now? can you tell me everything…?” you asked quietly, your hand finding his. wonwoo intertwined your fingers, taking a deep sigh.

“i don’t know how much he told you but… i’m a vampire. and by biting you i turned you into one as well. you died but the venom from my fangs caused you to kind of… come back” he explained slowly “mingyu is a vampire too. well, all of my friends are”

“that would explain why you know each other so well” you chuckled, instantly regretting that. a wave of pain came through your body, causing you to wince. wonwoo’s eyes widened, sudden realisation hitting him.

“do you need anything? medicine? i can bring some pain killers” he said, pulling the duvet up. your thigh was professionally bandaged.

“it’s alright but… you could give me a kiss” you pouted.

“god, you don’t even know how scared was i…” he whispered before gently cupping your face and planting a tender kiss on your lips.

you wanted more, of course you did, but he leaned away. he wanted to look at you like this forever, without thinking about the possibility of losing you again.

“do you… want to talk? about what happened before?” your boyfriend asked. you sighed, nodding. even though you were glad you’re alive - and able to kiss him again - you had so many questions.

“just… explain everything to me. i’ll listen” you hummed, patting the spot next to you.

and he did. he explained to you that seungcheol is the oldest and that he was born as a vampire, that making him a higher vampire. due to that he can kill other vampires - because the regular ones like you aren’t able. you might hurt another vampires but won’t kill them if you’re not a higher one. wonwoo explained that junwoo and him were friends but his slaughtering of innocent people made wonwoo leave him and tell his location to seungcheol. they had some private fights going on hence the will of revenge. that’s what he was so busy with lately – seungcheol found out junwoo is in the city and wanted to find him. he explained that you’re not going to be a vampire that’s described in books. you won’t have shiny skin, you won’t have allergic reaction to garlic or sunlight, you’ll be able to see your reflection in a mirror. you’ll just feel cold at times and after some time and training you’ll get some supernatural traits.

“did you plan on telling me? that you’re a vampire?” you asked, gently grabbing his arms and pushing yourself onto his lap

“i… i did. maybe on our anniversary. i was scared but i promised myself i’d do it. i… i wanted to ask you if you want to be turned into one to” wonwoo smiled softly, looking at you “because the thought of you dying and me living without you… it made my heart shatter into pieces everytime i thought about this”

your heart swelled. it must’ve been so hard for him. this made you think if he was in a situation like that because but–

“and i messed up. i know work is work but i neglected you. it won’t happen again, i promise. and also… you need to show me how not to accidentally put do not disturb on” he huffed and then threateningly put his finger up, his ebony irises sending you a serious look “and next time tell me right away when there’s a creep at your work”

“do not disturb…?” you scoffed, putting his hand down.

the sun peeked through the window, framing his face in golden light.

“well then, mr jeon” you hummed, placing your hands on his arms for support “can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?”

you didn’t have to tell him twice; he finally had an infinity to spend with you. when wonwoo pulled you closer, his teeth grazing against your lips you realised that it all would explain his thing for biting.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @gyudiarys

[sc0tters]

Out of It | Mat Barzal

summary: as your relationship with Tito finally hits a breaking point, what happens when Mat is there to pick up your pieces?

request: yes/no

warnings: cheating, failed relationship, drinking, allusions to sex, swearing.

word count: 3.2k

authors note: Kei said I could use the chaotic ending so I did, probably means we’re gonna have to have a part 2 (let me know if you want it). Request said something sad for Tito but happy for Mat and this is what my mind came up with. I actually enjoyed writing this one a lot so I hope you all enjoy reading it! But also don’t cheat on your partners, that’s very fucked up!

part two | part three

Things hadn’t been good for months.

When Anthony was first traded to the Canucks your boyfriend of three years always just assumed that you would join him. But you didn’t, your entire working career was spent in New York building up the your name and you weren’t ready to leave it for some city in Vancouver without the guarantee of a job waiting for you.

That seemed to be the first sign that things were changing as the boy took it as you not loving him.

Tito slammed his hands against your kitchen counter “do you ever support me in this move?” The man groaned in frustration making you taken aback by his outburst.

The accusation hurt you “of course I do.” You yelled back making his irritated tone “the fact that you think I’m gonna pack my life up at the drop of a hat makes me question how you feel about me though.” You crossed your arms sending him a glare.

This argument had gone on for the last fifteen minutes and there was still no clear sign of the end of this argument “look I can’t live in Vancouver but I can split my time between the two cities.” You offered growing tired of the way this was continuing to drag on.

But Anthony didn’t like that offer, in fact that almost felt worse than you just staying in New York “don’t bother.” He sighed pushing past you.

The hockey player moved towards the door “where are you going?” You croaked feeling your throat grow tight “I’ll spend the night with Mat.” Anthony sighed grabbing his shoes from the rack.

Your feet pulled you to the door “we don’t go to bed angry,” you reminded him “you promise.” Tears began rolling down your cheeks as you felt like you were loosing the love of your life “I’ll be back in the morning.” The boy mumbled kissing your forehead.

His lips left their print on your skin before he walked out of the apartment leaving you alone.

You two never actually spoke about that argument again, instead just choosing to ignore the fact that for the first time since you two moved in together Anthony didn’t sleep at home when he was in New York.

It felt like it was meant to be the one anomaly in your relationship or at least until February hit. Valentine’s Day you were meant to be in Vancouver with flights booked and everything but when a last minute meeting came up you had to pull out. Much to the annoyance of Anthony though.

Thinking you were doing the right thing you told him to go enjoy the dinner reservations he made. But after your long day of work when you came home the last thing you expected to see was the rumour mill that twitter made talking about how Anthony had a new girlfriend.

She was taller than you and looked like a blonde supermodel. Through frustration you grumbled something to yourself before you dialled in your boyfriends number “hey y/n!” Anthony was always good about picking up on the first or second ring “yeah I’ll be done in a sec,” he added clearly talking to someone on his side of the call.

You never liked admitting that you felt insecure in your relationship, but how could you not when you were with some hotshot hockey player? It also wasn’t helped by the fact that he lived 3 hours behind you and in a different country “don’t tell me she’s there,” you choked on the words as tears formed in your eyes.

Anthony clicked his tongue hearing the soft whimper you let out “who baby?” His nickname always had you melting into his hand but now you felt repulsed by it “that girl-“ your eyebrows knitted together as you thought the boy was playing tricks on you acting all oblivious.

The hockey player cut you off “told you that Twitter isn’t good for you.” His reminder felt condescending as you sat down feeing like you were having his lecture in person “why are they all talking about it?” Your voice was soft as you wiped your cheek with the back of your hand to clean the tears away from you.

He almost forgot he was on the phone to you as he stared at the girl who was on his couch pointing at her watch to signal that they were late “when she realised that we both had no plans tonight I said she should come with me.” Tito explained leaving you silent as he wasn’t denying that he spent the night with this bombshell of a girl “she’s just a friend though baby you got nothing to worry about.” Somehow his attempt to comfort you only made your nerves stick out more.

You tried to formulate a coherent sentence as you felt stupid for getting all upset “look I’ve got a few days off next week, why don’t I come see you?” He proposed causing that stupid love drunk smile to form on your face “I’d like that a lot.” You nodded missing your boyfriend now more than ever.

From the moment he arrived in New York you two could feel that something was different. As you invited some of his favourite old teammates over for dinner you felt relieved that you weren’t having to spend the night alone with him.

But of course that sense of peace had to be disturbed “baby why don’t you leave those for the morning?” You asked seeing Anthony’s back towards you as you entered the kitchen.

If there was one thing that usually fixed your problems it was sex. Sure that sounded stupid and like you were both teenagers, but as a couple your favourite way to end even the smallest of fights as with sex.

Which is why you thought it was the fix this problem needed “I want to wake up to a clean kitchen.” The Canadian always felt this rewarding feeling whenever he got to see an empty set of sinks in the morning.

You decided to try a little harder as you walked over to him “think I’ve got something a little more fun for you to do before that though.” You mumbled letting your hands slide up the front of his shirt.

That only seemed to piss him off “Jesus y/n let me finish the fucking-” the moment he began lashing out you stepped back keeping your lips shut until he spun around to look at you.

It didn’t take his eyes long to make their way down your body as you tied the string around your robe up clearly deciding that it wasn’t right for tonight “oh,” Anthony’s voice was soft as he realised that you were wearing his favourite lingerie.

The set was something you bought when he was on a long road trip once and you sent him pictures of each set you tried on in the store and when he picked the blue set you went to the airport to pick him up in a coat with nothing on underneath besides for that new set “forget it.” You rolled your eyes now feeling embarrassed as you turned around heading back to your bedroom where you sat on your bed for fifteen minutes waiting for him to come after you.

But he never did and you felt like an idiot.

April came around and you were now onto month four of feeling like something was wrong but you never felt confident enough to talk to Anthony about it so instead you let your relationship get to the worst it had ever been. Excuses were made each time one of you was meant to see the other and as the time between phone calls grew, the amount of fight you put up to see the other person decreased.

Tonight you were going out with some of the guys from the Islanders team. Mat invited you along as they were celebrating their place in the playoff “I know they are your friends.” You rolled your eyes at the phone call as Anthony couldn’t understand how his best friend invited you along.

It was somewhat amusing because Mat was the one who introduced you to your boyfriend “I’m going to support the boys okay?” You heard a knock at the door making you open it.

A smile formed on your face seeing older Canadian as you ushered him inside motioning to him to keep quiet as you were on the phone “yes I’ll let you know when I’m home.” It sounded like you were talking to a parent rather than your boyfriend.

Mat made himself comfortable on your couch as his spread his legs leaning into the soft fabric “I’m going to go now.” And with that you hung up. It irritated you how the first time he called you in over a month was because one of his old teammates mentioned that he was seeing you tonight “you okay kid?” Mat asked furrowing his eyebrows.

Despite the fact that there was only a two year age gap between you both when he met you, you were a freshman in college in your Maple Leafs jersey as you willingly spent your morning in a cafe arguing with the Islander player about how the Canadian team was better. Mat would never admit this to you or Anthony but he thought you were hot, that’s why he invited you to the game when the Maple Leafs came to visit. Why he scored a goal and pointed right up to the box where you sat, but even more so why he scored three goals. But no matter how hard Mat tried to impress you, it was no match against Anthony’s soft smile that he sent you making you weak in the knees.

You sighed sitting next to him “Tito is mad at me again.” You mumbled fiddling with the bracelet that the older boy gave you for your twenty first, the piece of jewellery that you now never take off.

Mat slipped his hand onto your knee giving it a squeeze “don’t worry about him.” The Canadian wanted to act like his crush on you had diminished over the years but when you called him in tears because you realised that you were drowning your sorrows in too much Chinese food for one person to ear during Anthony’s first night in Vancouver. The speed Mat drove across the city going through each red light told him otherwise.

Having him around always comforted you “think I just need to let loose tonight.” You mumbled running your hand through your hair pushing it back unintentionally revealing your collar bones that were highlighted by the low cut of your dress “finally give you a reason to keep up with me.” Mat always drank faster than you as you wrote it down to his lack of a college career where he never got the chance to grow out of it.

You rolled your eyes letting out a laugh “think you’ll be keeping up with me tonight.” You mumbled looking down at your phone to see the time “we’re late,” you groaned quickly getting up. Mat followed your actions with a smile “only means we have to make up for the lost time.” He pointed out making you laugh.

Oh how pretty that sound was.

The bar was packed full of players and their partners with you being the only plus one without a romantic connection to the team. You had practically drunk your way through the bar as the wags believed that you were making up for lost time after you turned down each of their offers to join them on girls night since Anthony left. It was stupid sure, but you always felt out of place when you were with them, so you thought that you’d feel worse without your boyfriend there.

But instead you surprisingly felt like you fitted in as Mat’s arm snaked around your waist “you want another one?” He asked motioning to your empty glass.

The girls had smirks on their faces as they watched your cheeks turn pink feeling his breath on your neck “I’ll come!” You blurted out making them bite the inside of their cheeks to hold in the giggles.

Whilst everyone thought you would marry Anthony, it made all of the girls happy to see you smile and until you or Mat did anything that crossed a line. They didn’t see the point in telling Anthony that his friend was taking care of his girlfriend.

Because to them everything that Mat and you did was friendly, the touches, the smiles, the looks. But what none of them knew was how each of your heart rates increased at the mere thought of the other. Mat locked his hand into yours as he pulled you through the crowd “two refills please.” He asked the bartender with his signature smile.

When the hockey player turned to you he realised you had been staring “what are you thinking about kid?” Mat’s voice was soft as he sat you in the barstool in front of him “how bad would it be if we left?” You cocked your head staring at his Hazel orbs that seemed to be locked into your soul.

Your question made Mat laugh “you had enough?” He frowned wanting to have more of your company for longer. You were quick to shake your head “no of course not,” your cheeks turned pink as you panicked “I just want ice cream and some vodka right now.” The pairing was weird but it seemed to be the only thing going through your mind “well it’s a good thing that I have both of those in my apartment then isn’t it?” His comment made your eyes light up with excitement.

Without thinking he held his hand out to you “they’re all so drunk I don’t think they’ll notice us leave.” Mat mumbled causing you to nod as he pulled you out of the bar somehow without anyone noticing.

During the drive back to his you remained fairly quiet as the Uber driver continued to talk to Mat about what it was like being a hockey player “I’m telling you I think he loves you.” You got the words out between your fit of giggles.

Mat groaned shaking his head “was nervous to have such a pretty girl in his car.” The boy shot back shoving his spoon back into the Häagen-Dazs ice cream container as he ignored the workout he was going to have to do tomorrow.

His compliment made your stomach do flips “think he’d be more affected by you,” you shook your head taking a sip of the expensive vodka that he had given you to drink “if he was gay-“ before you could swallow you let out a laugh resulting in a cough from you.

The hockey player grew alarmed watching your face turn red “you okay?” All you could do was nod until your throat calmed down “you care about me.” You teased rubbing your elbow with his as you smiled.

As much as Mat tried to ignore how he felt about you it was no longer working “of course I do.” The Canadian wanted to scoff that you would ever even consider to think that he didn’t.

But what he didn’t expect as your eyes locked with his was that you would lean forward to kiss him. At first Mat melted into the kiss as this was something he always wanted but as you moved to his lap he was reminded of the fact that you weren’t his “what about Tito?” Mat gasped forcing himself to feel guilty about the situation. Your lips formed a frown “he doesn’t love me anymore Mat,” you shook your head as tears formed in your eyes “and I don’t love him.” It was the first time you had ever actually said that out loud.

Yet it was all true, the fire that was once burning underneath your relationship turned to an occasional spark that had gone into hiding for the last few months. Mat stared at your soft facial expression “why don’t you leave him?” He asked furrowing his brows “don’t want to be alone.” Your confession made you seem week.

Truthfully though you had grown used to Anthony’s company and you were scared to see if you could survive without a boyfriend in your life “you aren’t alone.” Mat sighed tracing his finger along your jaw letting his thumb settle on your lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but if he showed you that he was here for you then maybe you’d leave Anthony for good “prove it to me then baby.” You pushed your lips back into his as the boy walked the two of you to his room letting your body hit his mattress.

Mat was finally going to have his way with you.

The next morning.

You let out a groan as you heard a loud knock at the door “baby go get it,” you grumbled wanting to go back to sleep “fine.” Hearing Mats voice from beside you had the events of last night quickly falling back into your head.

Somehow though the boy seemed calmer about it all as he sent you a smile “could get used to this.” You were wearing one of his old Islanders shirts, the first time you were wearing a piece of merch from the team that wasn’t from Anthony.

It reminded you of the fact that you still had a boyfriend but here you were in his best friends bed covered in hickies whilst he was covered in scratches “you should answer the door.” You pushed your hair out of your face as you began to feel sick. You weren’t upset about last night, you loved the reminder of feeling what it was like to be loved.

To put it simply you felt bad that you had done it to a guy like Anthony, your mother raised you better than that “I’ll send them on their way and then we can talk about last night.” Mat wasn’t an idiot, he could see that you weren’t thinking about Anthony by the way you stared at the promise ring on your finger that he gave you when he came back in February.

It only took you two months to go ahead and fuck that one up “okay,” you nodded biting the inside of your cheek as you struggled to comprehend how you would talk to Anthony after this.

Your stomach did flips as you stared at yourself in Mats bedroom mirror. In that moment you felt like a horrible person and there was honestly no denying that you were one. Your precious Anthony would never cross a line like the one that you had and you only hoped that you had enough time to fix it before everything was thrown back in your face “what took you so long dude?”

That voice sent a chill down your spine as your eyes went wide with any desire of wanting extra sleep quickly being thrown out of the window.

What the fuck was Anthony doing at Mat’s door?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 11

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

Despite your strange surroundings and the unexpected relocation, you sleep deeply. You’re more tired than you know. Battered and bruised after nights of uncertainty, it’s not entirely unexpected. Yet, you are entirely disoriented as you wake from the sludgy sleep that leaves your head aching. 

Time has passed without recollection. You have no phone to check the time but the light between the curtains assures you of the hours gone. You close your eyes again as your skull throbs. Your body hurts worse than before. This is why you didn’t want to rest, because then it would all catch up to you. 

You groan and shift onto your side. One thing at a time. You lay on your shoulder for a few minutes before you can sit up. You grunt as you do and fold over your lap. You hang over your knees and steel yourself for the inevitable. You turn to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Almost there. 

You take a breath and let it out. Then another and another. Finally, you slide forward so your feet meet the floor. Your ribs rent as you stand, gripping your thighs to push yourself straight. You hug your middle and look around groggily. 

Your eyes threaten to roll back and you sway. You're worn to the bone. You could sleep all day but you can’t. You have to go home, figure everything out. You still need to get a new phone, somehow. 

You limp to the door and twist the handle. When it doesn’t turn all the way, you lean your weight into it. Still, it catches and you shake the door. You pull until your muscles burn, using your entire body as leverage. It won’t budge. 

You shake your head as the cloud dissipates entirely. You’re awake. Very much so. 

You press your shoulder to the door and hit it with your fist, “hey, let me out.” 

You wait and listen. The house is silent. You can only hear the vents blowing with the cool air of the AC and the gentle stir of nature outside the window. 

The window. You turn to face the room and shuffle, half-bent, across the space. You pull back the curtains and look out onto the neighbourhood. You try to lift the pane and when it doesn’t rise, you twist the lock, this way and that, but neither way gives. How... what? 

You go back to the door, tripping against it. You hit it with your open hand, “Thor!” You call as loudly as you can, “Thor! What’s going on?” 

No answer. Nothing. You don’t understand. You back up, once more returning to the window. You could break it but then what? The roof is too steep, you’d roll right off, and below, only tarmac. You could call for help. 

You turn and search the space for something to break the glass. You grab the lamp, knocking the piece of paper to the floor. You examine the heavy base and grip the body tightly. You can do this. One good hit and it will shatter. 

You pause. What if you’re overreacting? What if this isn’t something messed up? You’re not used to these windows or these doors, if you just wait... No, you’ve tried to wait out a man before. You’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. That never works. 

You swing the lamp. It hits the glass so hard, you brace for the shatter. Instead, the impact sends you flying back as the lamp bounces back violently. You nearly fall over at the force of the reverberation. You fix your grasp on the lamp and near the window again.  

You look closer at the glass. It’s thick. You spread your hand across it and drop the lamp. You’re too weak. You couldn’t break it if you tried. 

You look down at the thunk of the lamp. The piece of paper lays just beside it. You bend and your body buckles at the strain. You take the sheet and turn to lean on the side of the bed as you read. 

‘Fawn. 

Do not trouble yourself much. There is some food on the desk. Should you need to relieve yourself, look to the corner. You must rest. 

I will return.’ 

You stare at the paper. You don’t understand. You lower it and slowly lift your chin. 

You stand and let the page slip free, the flutter deafening in the silence. You look at the narrow desk against the wall. You inch closer. There’s a tall glass of water, a protein bar, an apple, some nuts in a tin, and some naan rounds. The thought of eating turns your stomach. 

The corner? You peer around and in the opposite corner, nestled beside a stool, is a bucket. On the stool’s seat is a roll of toilet paper. You falter and catch yourself on the desk. 

No. This can’t be real. It’s a trap. You try to tell yourself he’ll let you go when he comes back but this is just too strange. Why would he lock you in this room? Why can’t you go out and use the bathroom? Why can’t you eat in the kitchen? 

What’s more terrifying is too think he was in this room while you were asleep. That you had no idea he was even in there. More questions flurry in your head. Ones that make you shiver.

What else don’t you know about Thor? What else are you about to find out? 

[eternalfae]

When You're Gone (pt 2/??)

When you finally got back to your flat your heart was pounding. You practically ran inside, part of you still not believing he would really be there. You tried to not show your excitement as you opened the door, still in your uniform from work. You heard the TV on and Andrew was humming along with the opening theme song of some show. You could already see him laid out across your couch, so perfectly relaxed as if nothing had happened. You stepped in and closed the door behind you a little too hard, startling him. 

“Well, don’t you look excited to see me?” He had to crane his neck to see you, a small smile resting on his face. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes while you tossed your bag on the table near the front door. A catch-all table littered with anything someone could ever need. “A strange man broke into my home while I was at work, why wouldn’t I be delighted?”

He cocked a brow at that, face going serious. “That sounds like a big deal. You know who did it?”

You sat next to him on the small couch. “The cops are already on their way.” A moment of silence passed between both of you before you crossed your arms and turned to face him. “Why are you here, Andrew?”

“I finished, obviously.” He looked a little proud of himself, like a cat bringing you a mouse. 

You couldn’t help your attitude. While you were happy to see him, you were mad that he’d leave you alone long enough to miss him. “When?”

He frowned. “About three days ago. Quite frankly, I thought you’d be more happy to see me.” You felt trapped by the almost sad look in his eyes. You took him in for a moment, beard unkempt, hair a bit longer than what it was when he left. He definitely needed a trim… and a shower. He smelled strongly of cologne, probably to cover up the smell of the long train ride back home. You loved his cologne. 

“I’m very happy to see you. I just wish you would have told me you were coming back. I could have planned something!” You threw your hands up dramatically for effect. 

“We can still do something fun; go out to the pub,” he offered. You shook your head in response and he frowned again. 

“I don’t want to go to the pub immediately after getting home from work. Order some delivery while I shower and we can watch a movie or something. I want to relax.” His smile returned and he nodded, quickly taking his phone out to order from his favorite local place. Fifteen minutes later you were dressed in your comfiest pajamas, towel-drying your hair quickly before you made your way back out to the living room. “Do you want anything to drink? I pretty much have the entire pub in my kitchen.” You leaned over the back of the couch, resting your arms on it as you watched him.

He looked up from his phone and nodded. “Please,” he answered simply, “But surprise me.” 

You nodded and wandered back towards the kitchen, slightly distracted by the ad currently playing on your TV. You managed to peel your eyes away as you stepped into the kitchen. You contemplated your liquor cabinet for a moment before you pulled down a bottle of Midleton whiskey, something you always saved for special occasions. Warm light shone through the glass, and you filled it up with maybe a bit more than you should’ve, but you didn’t care. After dropping some ice in, you brought the drinks back to the living room. He took the offered glass silently and you sat next to him, relaxing into the plush cushions. 

You sipped your drink and let your brain go empty, desperately trying to just forget about everything and relax here with your best friend. You couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the warmth radiating off of the man next to you, a direct opposite of the chill your damp hair was sending down your spine. He wordlessly took the remote and switched it from the show to one of his favorite movies, Grand Budapest Hotel. You took a swig of your drink, craving the warmth that was teasing you from your right, and grabbed a blanket that sat on your couch to bundle up in. 

The alcohol seemed to do barely anything to warm the chill in your bones. You were utterly exhausted from work, though, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You felt yourself dozing off within the first ten minutes of the movie. You were rudely awoken, however, by the sound of the doorbell. Oh, yeah, your food. You mumbled to yourself as you went to get up, but a hand on your leg stopped you. A warmth spread immediately from that spot that rivaled that of the alcohol in your veins.

“I’ve got it.” Andrew stood up and waved at you dismissively to stay sitting as he walked toward the door, stealing your warmth. You craned your neck a bit to watch him, but couldn’t hear their voices over the movie on the TV. You ended up relaxing and stretching out on the couch while you waited for him to return. Not long after, you smelled your food approaching. You hummed happily and sat up once again. “Your favorite.” He set the box down in front of you and opened it up, the smell causing you to practically drool.

“You’re a saint. Thank you,” you smiled up at him and he simply nodded and returned to his spot on the couch. He scooted closer to you as he reached for a slice and you were painfully aware of his knee touching yours. You willed yourself to ignore the thoughts racing through your head as you grabbed a piece for yourself. Your thoughts finally faded to the back of your mind as you ate, more or less watching the TV.

Once you had your fair share of food and liquor you could feel the exhaustion of your workday catching up with you. You pulled your legs up onto the couch and got cozy while the two of you sat in a comfortable silence watching the TV. You started to doze off again and was vaguely aware of the man next to you getting up from the couch. 

Right when you were about to open your eyes to see where he went, though, the couch sunk again and a blanket was placed over you both. One of his arms went around the back of the couch and, totally only because the couch was making you go that way, you found yourself leaning against the tall man with your head on his shoulder. As sleep took over your body now that you were adequately warm, you felt his arm come off the couch and move to around you. With one hand resting on your shoulder, you barely even heard his words. 

“I missed you so much.”

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Hi, hi. It's been a while since I have posted my Idiots since I have been (and still am working on more Emmrich brainrot.) However, I thought it would be nice to get back to my roots and share with you what Ulfric and Dahlia are up to.

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn, @dirty-bosmer, @hircines-hunter, @skyrim-forever @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@pocket-vvardvark @firefly-factory @illumiera @hannah-heartstrings @vivifriend

@theoneandonlysemla @sylvienerevarine @umbracirrus and anyone else who wishes to share. <3

23rd of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 203

Dearest Dahlia,

It has been so strange and too quiet with you not in the castle to fill the empty space between my thoughts. When I wake up every morning, I almost expect to find you next to me to tell me to, “stop thinking so hard” as you can “almost hear my worrying”. I promise you that this much has not changed, but that I am also trying to take care of myself.

Sylvi is doing just fine. Lydia and Narile have both taken it upon themselves to look after her most of the time. At least when I don’t have her. Normally, in the mornings I take her into my offic,e and she helps me with the endless mountains of paperwork there. (Don’t scowl at me. I’m teaching her young as she is the only heir we have.)

As for our “friend” downstairs, as promised he has been released, but under the tightest surveillance, and true to his word he has told us of other “problems” we might encounter here in Skyrim. I have dispatched some of the guards left here to help deal with them discreetly. I’ll be sending our friend out to Hammerfell with you and Galmar once this business is done. Lord Corolius currently rots in a cell in the Bloodworks as he waits for his execution date.

I pray to Talos every night to keep you safe.

Yours,

Ulfric

2nd of Evening Star, 4E 203

My bear,

Truly, it is good to hear from you as being so far from home has been rather difficult for me as well. Ralof was not joking when he said that Hammerfell is entirely unlike Skyrim. Not long upon crossing the border, we found ourselves in seas of sand and sun, endless heat following us everywhere we go. There is no escape from it. I miss the snow. I miss Windhelm. And more than anything, I miss you and Sylvi.

As for myself, I am holding together the best that I can…and trying to keep Galmar sane as well. Did you know he frets in his sleep just about as much as you do? Before you get any ideas, his tent is pitched right next to mine, so I can hear him very clearly. I’ve offered to have one of the mages make him a tonic, but the stubborn man refuses—much like you would were you here.

It is likely in the next few days that we will find a spot to make a more permanent camp. According to our sources, Queen Riyah’s sand riders are only a couple of days ride from where we currently are. I’ll be sure to keep you updated as much as I can.

…if I don’t melt first.

All my love,

Dahlia

17th of Evening Star, 4E 203

My heart,

I cannot begin to describe the feeling of complete and utter uselessness I hold when I think of you and our armies out in the field while I sit here and slog through meaningless paperwork. None of this matters in the grander scale of things. With each hour passing, my fingers itch more for the hilt of my waraxe than for that of the quill which I currently hold. 

Or perhaps it is that they yearn for the softness of your skin.

Forgive me for being an old fool, but your presence has been sorely missed in my bed. And before you go getting ideas, it is not only the intimacy I miss, it is your warmth more than anything that I long for. In these trying times, comfort is more valuable than gold, and you are my treasure.

Sylvi is doing well, so you need nor worry for her—even if I know you will still do so despite my reassurances. Recently, she has started crawling around the bear rugs we lay down for her in the Palace. She babbles as she tries to find more troubles to get into. Just like her mother, or at least that is what Lydia says as she chases her around the room. I’m inclined to agree with her, although I would say neither one of us are good at sitting still, so perhaps that comes from both of us.

Yours,

Ulfric