#what is it with this fucking guy and his eye crinkles and his dimple and his fluffy hair and his big smiles and his little smiles

[lalunanymph]

𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔) — rin

syp — you know what they say about the correlation between a happy relationship and weight gain…

—tw. brief mentions of fat shaming, talks of weight, mentions of food, established relationship, bf!rin, dw it’s a lighthearted take on a normal occurrence in any healthy relationship <33

Rin comes back from practice grouchier than when he left home. 

You hear the door slamming, his cleats set down on the floor. You count his footsteps, hear them tracing a path from the living room into the kitchen where you’re standing, stirring a pot of soup. 

“Rinny,” you beam up into his placid expression. “Welcome home.”

He doesn’t give you a kiss or a hug like he usually does. 

Instead, his pout deepens, brows furrowing together. Sensing something wrong, you stop stirring the soup and pat your hands dry, concern suddenly eclipsing your neutral mood. 

“Baby?” 

Even though Rin was notoriously hard to read, years of dating him drew your attention to the twitch in his brow, the sullen dimple appearing in the left corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t draw out the suspense, words clip and curt.

“Coach said I gained some weight.” 

You blink. Rake your eyes up and down his defined biceps, hard abs and athletic figure. 

“Heh?” 

He unzips his jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “Yeah,” your 6 foot 4, pouting pro-player boyfriend mumbles. “Says my fat percentage jumped to 5%. Made me run a few laps.” 

“Oh,” you coo, trying hard not to smile. “Must have really sucked for you, huh?” 

His teal eyes glaze over your twin pout, and he narrows them. “Don’t make fun of me.” 

“I’m not,” you say, your smile growing wider. “Baby, I know what it’s like to be fat shamed. But, whatever your coach is seeing, I don’t. I think you’re still hot and super buff—like Spiderman.” 

Rin blows the air out from his cheeks, deflating them. You resist the urge to pinch the still lingering baby fat he carried from all those years ago in high school. “Spiderman was a twink.” 

You frown. “Bachira really needs to stop teaching you this lingo. It could be offensive to someone.” 

“Hm,” he grumbles. “S’true though. I wanna look like Superman.” 

Rin hears you walk across the hardwood floors. You take his face in your hands, pinching his cheeks to mould them into a smile. “I think you're Superman. You’re my superhero.” 

Cheekily, your grin was starting to infect his glaring expression. 

“‘Cept for when you forget to take out the trash. Then, you’re just a regular schmegular guy to me.” 

Rin’s scowl deepens. “Shut up.” 

You crinkle your nose. “That’s not what you said last night—ow!” 

He pinches your hip and you giggle as you stumble backwards. Despite himself, Rin’s moodiness breaks, your sunshine smile and bright eyes bringing him out from the darkest parts of his brain. He lunges for you, trapping you against the kitchen island. 

“Tell me I’m still sexy to you.” 

His demand was met by your soft scoff. 

“No. You just told me to fuck off.” 

“I told you to ‘shut up’.” 

“Sounded like a ‘fuck off’ to me.” 

“You’re insufferable.” His face came closer, and closer till you felt his lips brushing yours. You smile against his lips, kissing him back. 

Breaking it off for a bit, you mumble, “And you’re still sexy to me.” 

Rin sighs, stickily sweet and yearning for more of your love. 

Unfortunately, the pot bubbles over and you shriek, pushing him aside to salvage your jjigae. 

He looks at the mess you sop up, arms crossed across his chest. “I can’t eat that. Too much sodium.” 

You shoot him a glare. “Fine, then. Go and cook something for yourself.” 

Rin never expects you to refute him this fast. He dawdles, shooting you a few stares when your back turns from him. Eventually, the silence gets too loud and he sighs. 

“Isagi said something stupid.”

“When has he ever said something smart?” 

Rin fights back a smile at your sass. “Tch. He said guys who get into relationships… happy ones… tend to gain a bit of weight.” 

You stop stirring the pot. 

Rin bites on his cheek to keep a smile off his thin lips. You turn to him, pretending to be unaffected. 

“Oh? Yoichi-kun finally said something smart and true—” you emphasise. “—for the first time. I’m proud of him.” 

He looks too good in his compression shirt, biceps rippling and torso stacked with muscles that cling to the black fabric. You flush and look away, but he’s caught you. 

“So,” Rin walks towards you, arms coming to wrap around your waist. “Do you think that’s true?” 

A smile threatens to spread across your stupidly lovesick expression. “I guess so. Is this your way of saying you’re happy with me?” 

Rin’s not a man of many words, but you hear him loud and clear when he kisses your neck. 

You pretend you don’t feel your heart thrumming rapidly or the heat scorching your cheeks. “I’ll fill your bowl with konjac noodles instead. Can’t have Ego-san make you run around the field again.” 

Rin hums, and his arms remain loose around your waist. He may be a man of little words, but sometimes he would say something that made you wish you never had ears to begin with.

“So, have you gained weight throughout this relationship?” 

Quick as lightning, you turn towards him, waving the ladle in his face, soup droplets splattering onto the floor. 

“Don’t even go there, Itoshi.” 

“But—”

“Abubbubbub,” you tut. “Nope. Hard no. Keep quiet or else I’ll sabotage your diet with fried chicken.”

He gapes, wounded that you would bring up his kryptonite—one that he had discovered through late nights studying with you by his side. To think that you would be the one to bend Itoshi Rin’s unbreakable diet with greasy goodness was a power rush that could rival the world’s smuggest god complex. 

“Y/N—”

“I’m serious, Itoshi,” you say, completely serious. “Make yourself useful and get me some spring onion stalks from the chiller.”

He sighs, shuffling towards the fridge and opening it grouchily. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

Suddenly, your arms are around him, and he turns to find you cornering him into the wall, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

Rin’s heart skips a beat, and he prepares to put on a scowl that melts away into a tongue-tied, blushing mess when you murmur: 

“S’your turn—tell me I’m still sexy to you.” 

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©�� lalunanymph

[adickaboutspoons]

Read this post, and now I've got a scenario without a story stuck in my head and I'm going to make it everyone else's problem Biker Ed & his buddies are refueling at a gas station when he notices a (smokeshow) posh-looking guy walking into the attached convenience store. He gives Jack a friendly shoulder-check. "Bet I can get his number." Last night Jack got digits from 2 (crazy hot, but, accent on the crazy) ladies at the bar, & he's been insufferable ever since. "What? Fancy Britches over there?!" Jack hoots, following it with a raucous guffaw. Ed swivels his head around; surely Smokeshow heard Jack, even though he & the boys are clustered around the pumps furthest from the door, but, thankfully, Smokeshow is already inside. Jack gives him the side-eye. "You're not serious, right? Since when is that guy your type?" Since Ed laid eyes on him & he instantaneously punched every single one of Ed's buttons in a way that no one ever has before. But Ed snorts & shrugs, "Yeah, nah. That's what makes it a challenge. Like. Does that look like the kind of guy who want to give a guy like me his number?" Ed desperately hopes he's the kind of guy who will give Ed his number. And his address. And his fucking hand in marriage, maybe. "Let's make it interesting," Ed says, & that got Jack's attention. "20? No. 40 bucks says I get his number." For a long moment Jack doesn't say anything. He regards Ed, & Ed's half certain he's sussed it out - that Ed isn't after a challenging mark to prove to his friends he can pull whoever he wants; he's desperate for this to work & more than a little terrified that it won't - psyching himself up by adding stakes so the fluttery fear in his tum won't talk out of taking his shot. If he doesn't get a move on, whole thing'll be moot. He feels the enormous weight of the seconds as they tick away. Jack scoffs. "Yeah. Why not? You crash & burn & I get your cash. You get his digits, & I get a good laugh when you busts his chops for thinking he ever had a chance. Sounds like a win-win to me." Ed tries not too look too eager when he scuttles across the parking lot. Smokeshow comes out the door just as he's reaching for the handle. He gives a little startled "Oh" then hurriedly steps to the side, holding the door for Ed to go through with a soft, polite smile. Oh fuck. Up close he's gorgeous, & that smile? It teases out a dimple on one side that Ed wants very much to kiss. "Uh. No. No thanks," Ed stammers. He clears his throat. "I'm Ed." Smokeshow is still smiling, but confusion crinkles his brow. "Nice to meet you, Ed. I'm Stede," he replies. "Wanna do something weird?" Ed says, half-expecting Stede to break into a dead run. Stede isn't running. Stede is leaning closer, his eyebrows hiked with interest. "I just bet my buddies $40 I could get your number. If you do me a solid, I'll split the bounty with you. Just write a number on my hand - doesn't even have to be yours." Please please please let it be his. Stede laughs &, oh god, he's even cuter when he laughs. Ed's heart stutters in his chest. "Well... Do you have a pen?" Ed does have a pen, but with the way his palms are sweating he's pretty sure the number is going to be completely illegible in, like, 3 seconds. Stede is done writing, but he's not letting go of Ed's hand. "Um..." he says shyly, "do you thinks a little kiss on the cheek might really sell the bit?" Ed is not going to have a number written on his hand anymore because his body is going to simply vaporize, but he just nods & says "Yeah. Sure. Good thinking." Stede leans in & as his lips brush against Ed's cheekbones (fuck his lips are soft. Does he just, like, endlessly apply chapstick or), he whispers, "Number's real. Give it a ring and we'll work out a time & place to split the loot." Then he's gone. By the time Ed's brain catches up to this fact, Stede's car is turning right onto the highway. Ed's brain must have hitched a ride or something, because he has no idea how he got back to his bike, or what Jack is whinging about as he grumpily stuffs $40 into his hand.

[hwanchaesong]

Ephemeral (Second Chances) Preview

pairing: Jungwon X F!Reader

synopsis: You sat and listened to the silence, the time ticked and you watched him walk down the aisle full of strangers. What scared you though, was the fact that everyone was blurry except for his dimples that you used to kiss.

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

"Red roses are good. Also, please add some white lillies and pink carnations into the roster, she'll love it." you rambled to the florist, but she merely gave you an understanding nod and proceeded to work with your request.

A yawn was heard from the corner of the shop and you suppressed the urge to punch the suspect of the offending sound, you chose the peaceful option of ignoring the person, continuing to mind your own business not until someone broke the silence that you've been enjoying.

"What's taking so long?" he asked, boredom lacing his tone, and that's when you whipped around to give him a warning look.

"Jungwon, picking the perfect flowers takes some time. If you want to go home, then go. No one's stopping you." you sassily replied, gracing him a tight lipped smile on the process.

It irked you even more when he rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath that you're sure is a snide remark towards you.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead and pondering of some ways to de-stress later. Surely, planning a proposal with your ex-boyfriend is something that you, a sane person, wouldn't do during your free time but here you are.

What was your brother even thinking, sending you with this jerk (which is conveniently his best friend), to help and prepare for the upcoming surprise for his girlfriend. Of course you'd love to do whatever you can for your dear sibling, but this is ruthless.. and plain torture.

Just before you go deeper within your thoughts, a handsome man holding a bouquet of your chosen flowers emerged from the back room. He beamed at you, his eyes crinkling adorably and his dimples poked through his cheeks.

"Hello there!" he greeted you with joy, polite but bright and it made you naturally smile as well. Like they say, happiness is a virus that can easily infect anyone.

"Yes, hello uhm.." you trailed off, looking at his name tag, "Soobin?"

"That's me." he giggled and dear lord, were you about to burst at his charming facade, "I'm the floral designer here and I wanna ask if you're okay with this presentation?" he raised an eyebrow, showing you the beautifully arranged bunch of flowers, wrapped in an abaca and tied with a pink ribbon.

"Oh, it's gorgeous! You're great at this." you exclaimed, making the tall man blush, getting shy at your compliment.

"Ah, not really. The flowers are doing most of the work here, which I'm guessing are your favorites?" he scratched the back of his head, gazing at you with a soft smile.

Jungwon on the other hand frowned, like, what the fuck is this exchange of flirting he's seeing?

Not. Fucking. Tolerable.

He stood up from where he was seated, slamming his hand on the counter, effectively startling the two people who were conversing which gave him immense satisfaction.

"That's good enough. We'll take that." he feigned a charming smile, allowing the dent on his cheeks to show as well.

That Soobin guy can go to hell, his height and deep voice (that were a stark contrast to his own traits) do not matter, he's not the only one with dimples here.

You were shocked, surprised, disturbed, all adjectives out there are not enough to describe the bombshell that Jungwon dropped, but you weren't gonna stand there and let him be rude. Right as you were about to tell him off and apologize to Soobin, he managed to leave an impact again.

This time, it's fatal for your poor, weak heart.

"And those aren't her favorites. It's a combination of lilac, purple peonies and white tulips, actually."

You craned your neck to look at him, realizing the small proximity you two are in. He's mere inches away from you. Too close that you're able to see his sharp side profile and inhale the scent that you've tried to desperately forget during the sleepless nights where all you've wanted was to be held by him.

You have forgotten about Soobin by now, the vow that you took, the walls that you've built, everything. The only thing that you care about as of the moment is that Jungwon remembers.

Jungwon still knows the flowers that you wanted for your own wedding.

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

[loucifersbitch]

wasn't tagged by anyone, just wanted to share from the wip i've been working on 💚 affectionately called The Kink Club Fic

*editing to add, I was tagged by @loveyouanyway 💚✨

Buck’s leg hasn’t stopped bouncing, and he makes a conscious effort to relax and be still. He wants this. He knows he wants this. He’s 31 years old, has recently come to realize his jealousy of other men was actually attraction, and he wants - no, he needs a man to take him apart. Almost as if on cue, the door handle on the opposite side of the room turns. The fluttery feeling in Buck’s belly becomes a full swarm when the man walks in. He had seen the man around the club before he took his year-long break, but he’d never allowed himself to actually look.  The first thing he notices is that the man is tall. Really tall. As tall as Buck himself, if not taller. He’s also broad in a way that Buck has always admired but never tried to achieve. And he’s very attractive with bright blue eyes and a strong jaw. Buck’s eyes follow the line of that jaw until he gets to the cleft in the man’s chin. He feels himself twitch in his boxers, and the man hasn’t even walked into the room properly.  Buck’s mouth is suddenly dry, and he hears his throat click when he tries to swallow. His dom comes fully into the room, closing the door behind himself. His eyes lock with Buck’s, and a soft smile spreads across his face. Maybe he recognizes Buck, too. He can’t seem to find his voice to ask at the moment.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice deeper than Buck expected.  Buck tries to respond, but it comes out as more of a squeak. He clears his throat, and finally stutters out, “H- hi.” The dom’s smile grows, and Buck notices he scrunches up his nose and crinkles appear at the outer corners of his eyes. And he has dimples. Oh, Buck is so fucked. He sits stock still and tries to keep breathing as the dom walks toward him, eyes never leaving Buck’s. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Buck, not touching, but Buck can feel his body heat through the fabric of his jeans. The dom tilts his head, considering. Buck can hardly breathe at the intensity in his eyes. Then he’s stepping forward and settling himself between Buck’s thighs. Buck’s breath hitches as the dom places two fingers under his chin to tilt his face up. The dom leans in, stopping when his nose is nearly touching Buck’s. “Have you eaten recently?” Buck takes a few seconds to process what his dom had said. That was not what he was expecting. “Uh, wh- what?” The dom only smiles and repeats his question. “Have you eaten recently? You look a little pale.” “Oh, uh,” Buck stutters, “I - I think an hour ago? I ate before I left work.” “You ate before you left work -,” his dom repeated, leaving the end of the sentence open. “S- sorry, uh - I ate before I left work, sir.” His dom smiles softly, then says, “Good boy.” A pleasant shiver runs down Buck’s spine at the praise. “Always eat before we scene. I don’t want you coming in when you’re hungry, okay?” his dom continues on, his thumb brushing across Buck’s lower lip. “Yes, sir,” Buck says. He sounds breathless already, and he would be embarrassed, but this guy is mesmerizing. Plus he doesn’t seem the type to make fun of him for it. In fact, his eyes only seem to get warmer. His thumb finishes its trek across Buck’s lip, then slips forward to rest on his lip and pauses, eyebrows lifting as if asking for permission. Buck nods minutely, and the thumb slides into his mouth, bypassing his teeth to sit on his tongue. The dom doesn’t press down, he just lets it sit there for a minute, studying Buck’s reaction. Not one to pass up an opportunity, Buck seals his lips around his dom’s thumb, sucking gently. His dom hums in approval, his eyes darkening further. “I saw you wrote on your form that you have an oral fixation,” he says, his voice somehow dropping even further. Buck gives a quiet, “mhm,” around the digit in his mouth. He’s not going to deny it. He knows full well that it’s true. To drive the point home, he runs his tongue along the pad and then around the tip of the thumb. A small gasp escapes between his dom’s lips, and Buck smirks. Then his mouth is suddenly empty. His dom takes a purposeful step back and says, “Strip and kneel.”

[ashwhowrites]

eddie x reader where they’re best friends but the reader confesses her feelings and eddie doesn’t reciprocate. they pull apart from each other a little bit from the awkwardness and she decides to move on with someone else. eddie starts to get jealous realizing that he did feel the same way but he fucked up, but he decides to let her move on bc she deserves somebody to make her happy. but it turns out that her new boyfriend is actually really abusive and once eddie finds out he beats the shit out of him and confesses his feelings.

I changed it slightly because the more I write fics about abuse or SA, the more upset it makes me. So I'm going to change it so that the guy is just an asshole who cheats on her.

Not proofread

Happy ending

Y/N knows for a fact that she has been in love with her best friend since he picked her off the sidewalk when she fell off her bike. Freshman year, a struggle for every teen but completely eating shit outside the school building was not how she wanted to start the year.

She didn't expect a beautiful boy with brown eyes to be picking her up. His hands were covered in jewelry, his chains decorated his black jeans and his smile accompanied his dimples. He was gorgeous.

Ever since that day he likes to believe she saw him and crashed her bike. That his beauty had her falling right away. He didn't know that everything he joked about was reality. Y/N has never seen Eddie as just a friend. And being his best friend for the past four years has been a blessing but also a curse.

~~~~

Over the years that crush became something a lot deeper. And that meant it was something she needed to be honest with him about. She knew he'd never leave her behind but maybe there was room in his life to become something more.

One main reason she hasn't said anything was Eddie Munson declared he was not a relationship guy. And he's been truthful to his word. Y/N has watched countless girls walk into his life for just one night or a week at max, then they are gone. Eddie didn't like feelings and he definitely didn't like dealing with other people's feelings.

She knew him loving her or even liking her back was a long shot, but it's a shot she's fine to make. Either they'll stay best friends or become everything she's always wanted with him.

~~

Y/N could feel her whole body filled with anxiety. She felt seconds away from throwing up every step that led her to Eddie's bedroom. Knocking on his door, taking the biggest deep breath, and smiling when he came into view.

"hey gorgeous" he smiled, opening his door wider as she sat on his bed. She always got butterflies when he called her that. And the smell of his room was making her head fuzzy.

"hey Eds, can I talk to you about something? Kinda more serious?" She breathed out

Eddie nodded immediately, sitting close to her. He could sense she was nervous, playing his hand in her lap, knowing she likes to touch his rings when she grows nervous.

She immediately went for his thumb, twisting the ring as she looked at his face. His worried eyes and crinkled eyebrows.

"tell me, baby" he encouraged

"I'm just going to jump right into it" Y/N laughed nervously. Eddie smiled at her, nodding his head to show he was listening.

"I...I have very strong feelings for you. As in I love you way more than as a friend. I know relationships aren't your thing. But, I didn't want to miss a chance if there was one for us. Is there a chance at all?"

Eddie felt his body freeze. He knew deep down she was perfect for him. She loved him in ways he didn't think he deserved. She cared about him and has been by his side since they met. But he couldn't be in a relationship. He couldn't be with her. He was too scared to be vulnerable with her.

So he did what he knew best, he lied.

"I'm sorry, but there isn't a chance for us in that kind of way. I don't feel the same. I'm sorry" he meant every sorry that left his mouth. He hated the way her face dropped but a fake smile was painted on in seconds.

"it's okay, I figured it was a long shot. But thank you for letting me take it." She smiled, blinking back her tears as she let go of his hand.

"we don't have to change right? I love you, I really do even if it's not in the same way. I can't lose you. Please, I'm sorry." He begged. He couldn't love her the way she would need it, but he could love her as a friend. He knows he wouldn't disappoint her as a friend.

"you won't ever lose me. We will still be best friends" she reassured him. Giving him her best smile. He smiled back, throwing his arms around her. She breathed in his smell, allowing the comfort of the hug wash over her.

It'll hurt for a little, but he'll always be in her life and that's what she wants.

~~

It's been two months since she confessed to Eddie. And it was going well. They were still best friends, less flirting which took a bit to get used to. But they were still close, and nothing had changed.

Until she met Brandon.

Some guy that was new to town, and ended up at her work. Looking for a job at the run down restaurant. She was assigned to train him, and now they worked all their shifts together.

Eddie felt his heart drop when he walked into the restaurant, joining her on her break like he does every Saturday night, to find her in a booth giggling with this new guy.

"Eddie!" She squealed excitedly, sliding out of the booth to greet him. Eddie hugged her back, eyes not leaving the guy sitting in the booth.

"this is Brandon! He's new to town and he now works here. Brandon this is my best friend Eddie" she introduced them happily.

Eddie watched her smile grow bigger every time Brandon looked back at her.

Eddie knew this was going to happen, but he didn't prepare for it to happen so soon.

~~

Within the next month, Brandon asked her out. She knew she still had feelings for Eddie but accepted she needed to move on. Brandon made her smile and laugh, she wanted to give him a fair chance.

Eddie was forced to hear all about Brandon for weeks and weeks. He never told her to ask, he knows if he did that she would. But he couldn't be that selfish. He didn't want to be with her so he has to accept someone else gets their chance.

Watching them hurt more than hearing about him. Eddie felt tears in his eyes anytime he watched her fiddle with Brandon's thumb ring. Eddie's rings have been left untouched by her since that night. She hugged and kissed Brandon anytime they were separated. They held hands, whispered into each other's ears, and ignored the world around them.

But she looked happy and that's what she deserved.

~~

Gareth didn't give two craps about Eddie's "no dating rule". Watching his best friend slowly fall apart over losing the girl of his dreams was tearing him apart.

"Eddie seriously! You love her the same way she does you. Are you really going to let your fear of being in a relationship ruin this for you?" Gareth argued. Sitting across from Eddie at a diner. Eddie needed a break from that restaurant.

"yes man. Listen, she is picturing this perfect relationship with me. I wouldn't ever live up to her expectations. She'll be disappointed. It's easier to be her friend and disappoint her than to fall in love and fuck it up for us." Eddie explained. He truly felt like his reasoning was smart and he was keeping them safe.

"that girl is already in love with you, and you wouldn't ever disappoint her. She loves you Eddie! Not this idea of you. It's you she loves. The same guy she met years ago. She doesn't have expectations, she just wants to be with you." Gareth wanted to slap his words into Eddie's head.

"it doesn't matter, she moved on and she looks happy. I'm not ruining that. Best friends are all that we will be." And Eddie was learning to be fine with that.

"Just one last question, you are completely fine with letting this girl, that we both know you are incredibly in love with, move on from you? You are actually okay with never getting to kiss her, call her yours, and be romantically attached to her? You are okay with missing all of that and all of the opportunities that a relationship with her could actually lead to, just because you are scared?" Gareth asked, watching as his words settled into Eddie's brain.

But Eddie did what he knew best, he lied.

"I'm okay with her being happy without me."

~~

Brandon and Y/N hit three months together and Eddie was still accepting his decision. He kept reminding himself it was for the better and she was happy.

But when he caught Brandon's tongue down another girl's throat at the bowling alley, Eddie wasn't so sure anymore.

Eddie was dropping Dustin off for his "date", at least Dustin was man enough to admit his feelings. But once Dustin made it in the building, Eddie's eyes found a familiar face in the parking lot. And that familiar face was not kissing the face he was supposed to be kissing.

Eddie knew he acted irrationally, and he knew that jumping out of his van and marching to Brandon was not the best idea.

And it was not the best idea to grab Brandon's arm and yank him off the girl.

"DUDE THE FUCK!" Brandon yelled as he felt himself being harshly yanked off the girl.

"YEAH DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK!" Eddie repeated, screaming as he used his hands to gesture to the blonde standing a few feet away from him.

"you and Y/N still together? You cheating on her?" Eddie accused Brandon. Y/N has not spoken about them breaking up, and that made Eddie's stomach turn.

"dude. Man to man, just keep this between us" Brandon said, a dumb smirk on his face

"man to man? Nah this is a fucking boy to a man. Men don't cheat on their girlfriends. Especially when you are dating a woman like Y/N. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Eddie questioned.

Brandon had the most perfect girl in the world, and he was fucking it up. All Eddie wanted to do was protect her, and her heart was hours away from being shattered.

"look, she won't put out. You know what it's like, no one wants to deal with blue balls. She won't get my dick wet, so I'm looking elsewhere" Brandon explained.

Eddie couldn't believe the words coming out of this guy's mouth. He was selfish, a pig, and an asshole.

"you are cheating on her because she won't fuck you? That's fucking pathetic" Eddie growled. Now he was even more pissed off.

"I was looking for a good fuck. I didn't care to have a relationship with her. I figured if I waited she'd give in. She can't wear those skirts and not expect a guy to ask."

Eddie hated every word coming out of Brandon's mouth. Eddie adored those skirts, and not because he wanted what was under the skirts. But because he was there when she bought them. The way she twirled and smiled at her reflection. Eddie knew how to protect her heart, why was he allowing it to be out on the battlefield for anyone to break?

"and you can't say that shit and not expect to get your face smashed in" Eddie growled, not wasting a second before his right fist smashed against Brandon's face. Knocking him to the ground, blood gushing down his face.

The girl panicked and ran to get help. But Eddie didn't care. This disgusting pig had the nerve to talk about Y/N like that. He didn't deserve to have a mouth that could speak again.

Eddie relentlessly pounded against Brandon's face. Not caring that his knuckles were breaking apart and he was staining his rings in blood.

Within seconds he was getting pulled off by random strangers in the parking lot. Shoving them off of him as he raced to his van.

~~

Y/N panicked at the hard pounding at her front door. Racing to open it and seeing Eddie holding his bloody knuckles.

"Eddie! What happened?" She panicked, yanking him inside as she dragged him to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry but I beat the shit out of your boy toy" Eddie snapped, guilt in his bones when she flinched at his tone.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped" he quickly apologized.

"um, what the hell happened?" She asked, confused as to why Eddie was beating the shit out of her boyfriend, and a little guilty that she didn't care how Brandon looked.

"I'm sorry but I caught him kissing someone else. I lost it, and he said some nasty shit about you and all I saw was red. And I couldn't stop. I'm sorry. " He apologized again. Hissing as she began to clean his cuts.

"what did he say?" She asked, she knew Brandon didn't like that she didn't want to have sex. They had a huge fight hours before. She felt stupid knowing she was upset over it and he was already filling her spot.

"I am not repeating the nasty shit he said. Because it's not true and you don't deserve to have someone talk about you like that. " Eddie growled. Trying to keep himself calm.

"well thank you for standing up for me. I guess I'll talk with him tomorrow" she sighed.

"to break up, right?" Eddie questioned. Not approving of the way she refused to look at him as she shrugged.

"you are breaking up with him. You are not allowing that asshole to touch you or even look at you" Eddie argued. Why did she even want to stay?

"I know, and I know I deserve better. But I don't know, it took me years to find someone that liked me. What if I can't find someone else?" She worried out loud. She hated being alone.

"you will find someone else" Eddie argued. He let her go and it backfired. She wasn't happy and now her confidence was destroyed.

Eddie wasn't keeping her safe, he was throwing her to the wolves.

"yeah right" she scoffed. Rolling her eyes as she bandaged up his knuckle.

"stop that. You are beautiful and amazing. You will find someone" Eddie said, picking up her chin to make her look at me

"if I'm so amazing, why am I not enough for you?" She asked, voice cracking slightly. All she wanted was him.

"you're too good for me, that's why I had to lie" he confessed, trying to keep his eyes looking into hers and not dropping down to her lips.

"lie?" She squeaked out

"yeah, I lied. I'm so fucking in love with you. And it scares me. I will never be the man you want me to be, I'll never meet your expectations and I don't want to disappoint you. Saying no was the hardest thing I've ever had to do." Eddie's eyes dropped down to her lips again, and her eyes caught it.

She felt her face burn as he slowly leaned in. Her heart was racing and palms were sweating.

"I don't need you to be anyone, I want you to be the exact person I fell in love with" she confessed back. Leaning forward as she moved her hands up his chest.

"don't say no this time" she added, using all her confidence to close the gap between them. Connecting their lips in a desperate kiss.

Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist. Smashing her against him as close as he could. His heart racing as he tasted her lips. Feeling her body melting into his. Her lips were soft and warm. Fitting perfectly against his, and her body fit perfectly against his.

Eddie hated to pull away, slowly pulling himself away. Watching as her eyes slowly opened.

"definitely not saying no" Eddie smirked, laughing as she punched his arm

Eddie was terrified, but the best way to protect her heart was to take care of her heart. Loving her was easy and that's all she was asking for.

Eddie didn't need to lie.

He loved her and he'd show her how much he did.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 2: Death (words: 735)

“Honestly, I’ve had enough of suitors,” Crystal said and snuffed her fag into the stone wall of the pub. “Though you’re cute, it's a no.”

“Aw, not giving any chances, are you?” Charles grinned. He didn’t smoke, but he’d trailed after the girl when she slipped out for a break.

“All the guys I’ve dated have turned into selfish pricks,” Crystal rolled her eyes. “I’d hate it to happen to you.”

She wore black corduroy overalls with a band t-shirt underneath her long lilac jacket. Charles watched the corners of her red lips curl into a self-deprecating fake smile. Even when she tried to make herself off-putting, Charles liked her sarcastic humor and mean jabs. His smile only widened.

“Does that mean you care for me? A bit, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

For a second Crystal looked like she was going to smack him, but then her tough exterior cracked and her frown melted into a genuine smile.

“Fuck off, Charles.”

Crystal was like that, bitter but funny, flitting around town brooding and alone but kind and sweet when you got to know her. Charles had run into her in the weirdest of places multiple times now. He’d joked that it had to be Destiny’s plan for them, but Crystal’s face turned sour, just like every time Charles complimented her.

They became fast friends, spending a lot of time together. Friends that snogged sometimes, just because it was nice. Crystal made it clear she wasn’t interested in anything more serious.

Charles learnt after a few weeks that Crystal’s family was actually filthy rich. Had she told him her whole name, Surname-von Hovenkraft, it would’ve clicked immediately. A girl that rich and beautiful should’ve had tons of friends but no. There was only Charles.

Like Charles only had her. In this town the lads loitering outside pubs were the type to notice the color of the skin before the person, so Charles preferred to avoid them.

That night Crystal took him to the graveyard. She was a witchy type, so Charles thought nothing of it.

That was before he saw the temporary grave marker on top of a recently turned patch of soil. There were flowers, candles and rocks painted with pink hearts piled around the small plaque.

Niko Sasaki

1973-1991

Beloved Daughter and Friend

“Did you know her?” Charles asked, like a dunce. He cringed but Crystal wasn’t listening.

She stood in front of the grave, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, a stormy look casting over her features.

“I love her, and I didn’t even realize until she was taken from me,” Crystal muttered, then turned her flaming eyes to Charles. “I love her, and I didn’t even get the chance to date her while she was still alive!”

Charles blinked back his surprised expression. He glanced between the grave and Crystal.

“I’m sorry?” Charles tried. “I bet she was lovely.”

Crystal’s gaze focused in midair, trailing something behind Charles while her lips curled into a fond smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Anyway, this is what I wanted to show you. Meet Niko.”

Niko had been an international student at Crystal’s posh boarding school. Something happened that caused them both to drop out two years ago and move into a small flat in town. Crystal skimmed over a lot of detail, but Charles gathered that now she was back to living with her parents.

“So when did she..?” Charles tried to ask, struggling to get the full picture.

“It’s been three months now,” Crystal said. “God, it still makes me mad just thinking about it. I was right there. I should’ve protected her.”

The wind tugged at Crystal’s sleeve, distracting her. She sighed and rummaged her pockets, pulling out a small polaroid. In it, a girl with straight black hair smiled widely, her arm around Crystal. Her cheeks were dimpled and her eyes crinkled in an infectious glimmer of joy.

For the next half an hour, moisture seeped into their clothes from the grass where they sat while Crystal told Charles stories about Niko. In all of them, her character was so lively, so courageous and endlessly positive. Niko was brought to life through the words, more alive than most of the residents in this half-dead town.

When Crystal was walking away, Charles stared down at the weather-torn flowers around the name plaque. He felt like he’d lost a friend he’d never got to meet.

“Hi, Niko,” he whispered.

The wind blowing through the graveyard felt like a hand petting his arm.

First Next

[agentmarvel]

hey <3

🩷 - 👻 - don't look!

hello, dearest nonnie! thank you for sending one in!🥰

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

cw: none

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

You squeeze the excess water from your hair as you peel back the shower curtain, a healthy layer of condensation blanketing the mirror. Rivulets of water drip down the length of your back. Safehouses usually suck, but at least this one has running water.

The towel slides off the bar as you tug it gently, wrapping yourself in a threadbare cloak with little to no expectation of it absorbing anything at all. Still, you’re grateful for even this small favor. You remind yourself to ask Price to tip his cleaning lady more often, the mere thought making you laugh inwardly.

Wiping a hand across the glass, a face that doesn’t quite look like yours stares back. It’s conspicuously absent of the dirt and grime you’ve grown accustomed to while looking far more worn and tired than you recall. A sigh leaves you, and you opt to look away. You need to find a toothbrush anyway.

There’s a mild groan of complaint from the hinges as you open the door, but the house is otherwise silent. No floorboards protest as your soft footsteps pad back towards the singular bedroom.

The door is more than cracked, you notice, as a thin beam of dull yellow washes across your ankles. You think nothing of it as you push it a little further, but you should’ve.

Your lieutenant stands on the other side, face bare of his usual attire. The leisurely pace you’ve set falters at the sight of his mussed, sandy blonde hair, and your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s beautiful in every sense of the word; every dimple, crease, and scar placed perfectly by the hands of God himself. No painter or sculptor, no artist of any medium that ever has or will live could dare to dream up something so resplendent. You reserve the image before you in a mere moment, seared behind your eyelids as you squeeze them shut.

It feels wrong to see him like this. A primary rule of joining the 141: if Ghost has his mask off, don’t look. And somehow, the first mission you’re on alone - together - you manage to fuck it up.

Admittedly, you’ve always had a thing for Simon. How could you not? His jokes always make you laugh (even if the rest of the guys groan), he holds doors for you, always checks in after absolutely kicking your ass in sparring, makes sure you’re taking care of yourself after long missions. There’s nothing about him that dissuades your little crush. But that’s all it is, right? A little crush; nothing more.

To solidify your commitment to not peeking, you put your hands over your eyes, issuing a startled apology.

Simon laughs - actually laughs - and you feel a pair of warm hands close around your wrists. He tugs gently, a soft hum of your name on his lips.

“Am I really that ugly, Sergeant?” he asks, breath fanning across your cheek in a warm haze. You shake your head. “Then why don’t you wanna look at me?”

“Not supposed to, sir,” you answer, eyes still pinched shut. Simon releases your wrists, instead shifting his hold to your cheeks, cradling them in his palms like he’s carrying an injured animal.

“C’mon, little bird. Open those pretty eyes, yeah? S’okay. I want you to see me.”

Cautiously, you crack one eye open. You can feel your heart racing, pounding against your ribcage with violent glee. Simon chuckles again, mere inches away, and those stained glass eyes of his crinkle at the corners.

“Tha’s it. Good. Want you to remember what I look like, doll. May not see it in the field much, but I’d like you to see it more when we’re alone.”

“What do you mean?” You let the other eye open slowly only to arch a brow.

“You like me, right? Yeah, not too subtle about it, are ya? It’s mutual; figured we could try a date or two to see if it’s right.”

pick your prompt here! 💌

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 12

I don't have much to say about this chapter except I hope you enjoy it! We're moving further into the TLoU world and exploring it with the guys from Triple Frontier and our reader. Word count: 6.6 k

Warnings have their own post and they contain spoilers

Chapter 13

Start from the beginning: The Pilot and his girl

You count the hours, the minutes even, throughout the day. You pack and repack your own backpack, trying to squash any thoughts about leaving without Frankie.

From the window in your living room you see less and less people. You hear helicopters in the air and your heart clenches, thinking about Frankie, what if he managed to get to a helicopter? He’s on your mind every second, every sound from inside the building makes you jump and twitch, hoping to hear him stick his keys in the lock and open the door. 

A few hours after Pope leaves, someone bangs on your door, it makes you jump up from the couch and grab the gun he left you with. 

“Hey, anyone in there?” You recognize the voice of your neighbor from across the hall, a middle aged man who sometimes chatted to Frankie about the army, he’d served too. You think his name is Barry. He’s nice enough and doesn’t seem dangerous but you heed Pope’s warning and stay quiet. 

“Frankie, if you’re in there, I’m getting some of the people in the building together and heading out of the city. Someone heard on an amateur radio receiver that they’re going to evacuate the city and then fucking bomb it. You’d better shift yourself and your girlfriend before that happens.” 

You hear the man shuffle for a bit outside the door, banging on it again, before his steps retreat down the stairs. 

They’re not possibly gonna bomb the city, are they? Why would they?

You carefully go to the window and look down onto the street, trying to not be seen. After a few minutes you see a handful of people exit your building, you recognize several of your neighbors as they head down the street. All seems quiet until suddenly, just before they disappear out of view, three people run from an alley, at the group. Through the closed window you only hear a distant wail but you see all too clearly how the group breaks up as the three running people attack violently. You sink to your knees, only your eyes peering over the windowsill, as you watch in terror as the three strangers tear into two of your neighbors. The rest of the group runs flat out and disappears behind a corner, and before long, they’re followed by the three attackers too. 

You sink down against the wall under the window, breathing hard. Panic is rising in your chest as your nails dig into your palms. 

Please, please, Frankie, come home, I need you to come home, I need you, please, Frankie. 

You close your eyes and picture his face in front of you, his dark, unruly curls under that damn near permanent cap, his warm, brown eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles and the dimple you always want to fit your thumb into, his scruffy beard, the patches that never want to fill in. You let the image of him fill your brain as you slowly breathe in and out, willing yourself to calm down, to control the panic. 

Nothing is going to get better if you panic, just breathe.

You stay there, sitting on the floor under the window, until your legs go numb and you move to the kitchen. You have no appetite but you make yourself eat a couple of sandwiches. Anything non-perishable has been packed into your hiking backpack, Frankie’s is also full of necessities for staying at the cabin for a while. 

You don’t want to stop to think about what you’d do with his backpack if he doesn’t come back. Part of you isn’t sure you’d leave if Frankie doesn’t, despite what you’d promised Pope. Maybe you’d just stay here until something else happened, maybe they would bomb the city, maybe you could just die here. The very thought of going on without Frankie is too hard to phantom, you can’t see past waiting here until he comes home.  

You sink down on the couch, not bothering to wash the dishes. Pope had filled up your bathtub with water but told you to only use it for drinking. He had assumed the water would be cut off the same way electricity had and he was right, you hadn’t had running water for a few hours now.

It’s morbidly funny when you think about it; yesterday afternoon you’d been doing dishes, doing laundry, cooked some food, watched tv, like nothing was amiss. Now you were on the couch, a gun in your waistband, no water, no electricity, no phone, your neighbors’ dead in the street and society seemed to be crumbling around you. It took less than twenty-four hours for your world to collapse. 

At some point in the evening you almost doze off, the adrenaline’s wearing off and your body refuses to stay awake. With the last bit of energy you push the couch out from the wall a little and lie down with a pillow, hiding behind it. You figure, if someone breaks in while you’re sleeping, they won’t see you at a glance. 

…

The loud crack from the door startles you awake, as you blink, trying to orient yourself, you hear heavy boots on the floor, several pairs. You freeze in place behind the couch, quietly turning your head so that you can peer underneath it. Two pairs of black combat boots walk into the living room, one pair peels off to the kitchen. 

“Clear in here,” the voice of a man, “check the rest of the place.” 

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply and you hear footsteps head off down the hallway towards your bedroom. You can hear doors opening, the closets wrenched open. As you listen you wonder if you should make yourself known, maybe they are evacuating people, but something makes you stay quiet. If Frankie had been here you might’ve gone with them, but not without him. 

The two men retreat from your apartment, shutting the now broken door, and you hear them move up a flight of stairs. You remain hidden, listening to the sounds of your apartment building. The soldiers are moving around upstairs, at one point you hear the sharp snap of a gun being fired, and then nothing. Eventually you hear several people move down the staircase outside your apartment and downwards, your building goes silent. Carefully you stand up from behind the couch and cross to the window that looks down onto the street. The sun is just coming up, fires are still burning in the distance, creating a haze over the city. You can see armed military men standing around a school bus, and as you watch, a few people from your building are ushered onto it. The doors close and the bus drives away. 

You go back to the couch, go over yours and Frankie’s backpacks again and then check the time. It’s almost eight am, Sunday morning now. If you’re going to go to the cabin, you need to make a decision soon. You pace back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, you can’t make up your mind, stay or go? If you stay, you might die, your door is broken, hanging off the hinges and it won’t be safe to sleep here tonight. Or they might actually bomb the city and you die anyway. 

If you go, if by some miracle, you manage to get onto the dirt bike and get to the cabin, will you ever see Frankie again? If that’s the case…you touch upon the dark thought that’s been at the back of your mind for hours now, it burns when you glance over it. 

What if you never see Frankie again? 

The thought makes panic rise in your chest, like acid, it pushes up your throat and you grab hold of the edge of the kitchen counter, your fingers dig into the unyielding surface. No, that is not the way this is going to go, he’ll come here or to the cabin. He will find you again and you’ll see him when he does. 

Your mind is screaming at you to stay here, where it feels safest, in yours and Frankie’s home. But a small voice at the back of your head reminds you of what Pope said, If he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back.

The thought of Pope, going to get Lucía and getting her to safety, pushes you out of your stupor. You take a deep breath, your mind made up. If Pope gets to Lucía she will need you too, Frankie would want you to get to her too, keep her safe when Frankie can’t. Pope will look after you and you will look after Lucía for as long as you can. 

You need to leave him a note, hope that he finds it, and has a way to get to the cabin. You go to your small home office, the manuscript you’d been working on neatly stacked on top of your laptop, it seems like a lifetime ago. You take a large bright post-it and stick it to the middle of the kitchen table where it can’t be missed. 

P went to get L. Meet you at D’s cabin. I love you always, stay safe. 

You walk back into your bedroom and rifle through your closet. You’re still in the jeans and hoodie, Frankie’s hoodie, you were in on Friday. If you’re going to leave home you need to be smart about your clothes. Hiking pants, your thermal undershirt, the hoodie, thick socks, your hiking boots, more layers stuffed into the backpack, your waterproof windbreaker on top. You close the backpack and leave it in the hall and go pick up Frankie's bag. 

You hear the footsteps on the staircase as you turn back to the hall. 

They're slow, deliberate, and you quietly set the backpack down again and duck behind the couch, crouching down. The hard metal of the gun digs into your back, reminding you of its presence, and you pull it out, holding it as Pope showed you. 

The footsteps stop outside your front door, and through the silence of the building you hear the metallic click of a gun being cocked. Holding your breath, still crouched behind the couch, fear creeps up your spine, making your skin tingle. The quiet footsteps move into your apartment and down the hall, you hear the scuff on the floor as someone steps into the living room. They stand still for a few seconds, you try to make your heartbeat slow down, it’s so loud you’re sure they can hear it, but the unknown intruder carefully moves into the kitchen. After a beat you hear them pick up the post-it from the table, and breath out a low “Fuck.” 

But you’d know that voice anywhere, you rush to stand up, “Frankie!” 

He turns on the spot, his gun up and trained on you in a split second, before he lowers it and moves towards you. You scramble out from behind the couch and stumble over the coffee table, he catches you as you grab onto him, your gun falling to the floor. His arms go around you, pulling you tight, tight, to his chest and you bury your face into his jacket. 

“You came, you came,” you weep into his chest  as you feel his lips press against your hair, his arms are squeezing the air out of your lungs as he sobs, you can feel him shake as it rips through him. 

“Always, hermosa, always,” he whimpers into your hair as you feel his hands search up and down your back. “And you waited, you shouldn’t have waited, but, fuck, I’m so happy you did.” 

He presses himself against you, grabbing onto you, you can feel his fists close around your hoodie, pulling you into him as he all but folds himself around you. Your arms are wrapped around him, you’re inhaling his scent and you can hear his heart race under your ear. He moves a hand up and cradles it around the back of your head, pulling you away a little so that he can bend down and press his lips to yours, kissing you desperately as you sob against him. His lips are rough and chapped, but it’s the most welcome feeling in the world. His scruffy beard scratches against your chin, his breath is hot on your lips and you can feel the tug of his fingers as they tangle in your hair. 

But you can taste salt and blood on his lips and it takes a few seconds for your brain to register the iron flavor in your mouth. When it hits you, you pull back and look up at him. 

“Frankie!” you exclaim and reach up to touch his bruised and cut face and he flinches, “What happened?” 

“A bus hit the truck, it flipped over and I got cut, probably by the windscreen.” He pulls you closer again, his hand around your neck, caressing your hair as you bury your face against his jacket. “I was knocked out for a few hours, I think, when I woke up it was the middle of the night and it was fucking mayhem on the streets.” You draw a deep, trembling breath, grabbing onto him tighter. 

“I managed to get out of the truck and into a basement of a restaurant for cover, I hid in a fucking broom cupboard. I passed out again and woke up the next afternoon, been trying to get back to you all night.” 

He sighs and you feel him rub a hand across his face, pulling off his cap, still on his head, and run a hand through his hair. “I might have a concussion too, my head is fucking killing me.” 

You look up at him again, searching his eyes this time, he looks tired, wiped out, and slightly red eyed as you gently trace his face with your fingertips. He takes your hand and presses kiss to your palm before he wraps his fingers around it. 

“Let me clean your cuts and get you some painkillers,” you say, bending down to pick up your gun from the floor and he lets you lead him to the bathroom and sit him down on the toilet seat, but then he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you close again.

“Are you ok?” you hear him mumble against your chest. 

“I’m a lot better now that you’re here, Frankie,” you caress his sweaty curls, “and I’m not injured.” His hands have bunched up the back of your hoodie as he tilts his head and looks up at you. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I should’ve fucking left work the second things started going to shit, we should’ve gotten us out of the city on Friday night.”

“How could you have known? I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, it all happened so fast,” you put the gun on the counter and wrap both hands around his soft curls and kiss his forehead, you see his eyes slip closed as you press your lips to him. 

“Where did you get the gun?” he asks as you straighten up and take out the small first aid kit, the large one is packed in your backpack. 

“Pope. He rang on Friday night and when I told him you weren’t home yet he decided to come here.” You gently dab some antiseptic onto the largest cut, just over his eyebrow, carefully cleaning away the dried blood, Frankie doesn’t wince, just lets you pat the cut with a cotton swab. 

“He tried to get me to leave but I told him I couldn’t leave before you were back.” At this Frankie silently puts his hand on your cheek, stroking it gently while you continue to clean his cuts. “He’d looted two guns and a rifle and left me one. He’s gone to get Lucía to the cabin.”

Frankie gives a small nod, “I saw your post-it, were you about to leave, hermosa?” 

You stop your cleaning and look down at him, your hand still on his face, “Pope said that if you weren’t back by Sunday morning…you probably wouldn’t come.”

“He wasn’t wrong, I almost didn’t make it,” Frankie clenches his jaw, his hand balling into a fist. “But I’ll tell you later. For now, I need to get to Lucía too, if Pope doesn’t already have her at the cabin, I’m going to get her, I have to.” 

“I’m coming with you, I’m not letting you go without me,” you immediately say and Frankie nods. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again, cariño, you’re coming with me.” He stands up and looks at his face in the mirror, he’s got three deeper cuts, two on his forehead, one on his cheek, just under his eye, that was lucky. His head fucking hurts but he takes the two painkillers you hold out and downs them with water and pushes the pain to the back of his mind. He needs to focus now. 

“Ok,” he says, looking over at you, “we need to pack what we need and get out of here as fast as possible. The only problem is we have no transportation but maybe I can hot wire a car in the street.”

You dig into your pocket and pull out the keys to the dirt bike. “Pope said there were two dirt bikes in the garage, he took one and left the other for us. It’ll probably be easier to get out of the city on them.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, the traffic was getting bad when the truck got totaled.” He walks into the living room with you behind him. “I thought I saw my backpack here, you packed it?” 

“Pope did, I packed mine too,” you sit down on the couch and pull your bag over, opening it up and putting the painkillers inside. Frankie crouches down by his pack and quickly goes through it, getting up to add a few extras before closing it up again. 

“Fill your big water bottle, and drink as much as you can before we leave,” he tells you. “There’s not much water between here and the cabin and we’re not stopping if we can avoid it.” 

You do as you’re told and when you get back from the bathroom you find Frankie standing by the bookshelf, holding a photo of you, him and Lucía from a few months ago. You’d had it printed and framed for him and you know he has a copy of it in his locker at work too. 

“Are you bringing it?” you ask in a low voice. He looks over at you and sighs. 

“I’m not sure when we’ll come back here again, I thought maybe I should.” He looks back at the photo in the frame again before he flips it over and opens the back cover, sliding out the picture. 

“Pope said it’s the world is falling apart, do you think he’s right?” you ask, moving over to him as he carefully puts the photo into his pack. 

“I hope not, cariño, but…” he looks at you, he has a deep furrow in between his eyes, a worried look, “it’s not looking good, I saw some things I can’t explain out there, if you have something you don’t want to lose, you should probably bring it now. “ 

You turn and hurry back to the bedroom, quickly grabbing the picture you have on your bedside table. It’s your favorite of Frankie and you, from a BBQ at Will and Hannah’s place. Frankie’s looking at the camera with a big grin, his arm hooked around your neck, leaning into you as you press your lips to his cheek with a smile. You’d stolen his Standard Oil cap and put it backwards on your own head, Frankie’s dark curls are their usual unruly selves without the cap. You hurry back to the living room and slide it into one of the outside pockets of your bag. 

Frankie’s waiting for you while you pull the zipper closed and hoist the bag onto your back. As you step forward to him, he pulls you close, his hand grabbing onto your waist. He leans his forehead against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his warm breath skate across your skin. 

“I love you, I will always love you, no matter what happens,” he whispers.

You nod and take a deep breath, it feels like you’re savoring the last moment of calm before you step into the unknown, which you are, really. 

“I love you, Frankie, I will always love you too,” you whisper back to him and he dips his head to your mouth. His lips are soft under the cracked skin, he still tastes like himself and for a second you imagine it to be just another normal Sunday morning kiss before you head out to run some errands. 

But then he pulls back and takes your hand, moving towards the broken door. As he carefully pushes it open he drops your hand and takes out his gun and you do the same. 

Definitely not a normal Sunday morning. 

…

The apartment building seems empty as you quietly walk down the stairs with Frankie in front. He tells you to put your hand on his shoulder so that he knows you’re behind him. Your gun is in your hand, safety on, you don’t trust yourself enough to keep it off. 

Frankie motions for you to stop a few feet behind him as you reach the garage door, it’s still locked. He pulls out his flashlight and keys from the side pocket of his pack, and presses the key fob to the door. The beep seems to echo through the quiet building and Frankie's waits, listening for any movement.

“Thank god for batteries,” he whispers before he cautiously presses down the handle and pushes the door open. It squeaks on its hinges and he pauses again. You see him raise his gun as he slowly moves through the open door, quickly swinging it left and right to cover both sides, holding his flashlight in the other hand. 

When nothing stirs in the darkness of the garage, he motions you over to hold the door open as he moves further in. The dim light from the bottom of the stairwell illuminates a few cars and Frankie’s back as he cautiously makes his way over to where motorbikes are parked. He disappears out of view for a few seconds before you see him come back, he’s got an old motor oil canister in his hand. 

“I’ll prop the door open,” he says in a low voice as he gets to you, “and we have an exit if opening the garage door doesn’t work.”

The garage door is electric, opened by pushing a button on a remote that Frankie keeps in his truck. The remote, and the truck, are obviously not here, so he plans on pushing the door up by hand, hoping the lack of electricity will make it easier to move. 

You follow him through the dark garage, to the dirt bike propped up against the wall. He hangs his pack on one side, and yours on the other. “Keep your gun out, safety on, cariño,” he murmurs, before grabbing the handles of the bike and pushing it towards the garage door. You hold the bike up as he grabs the chain on the side of it and tug, sighing in relief as it glides smoothly up, only a low rattle as it opens onto the street. 

“Push it up, I’ll cover you in case someone comes,” he says in a low voice, crouching down and moving up the slope to street level as you dig your feet in and push the bike. It’s slow, the bike is heavy with your bags on it but you’d rather have Frankie cover you than the other way round. 

You get it onto the street and prop it up as Frankie grabs the handles and waits for you to settle on the bike. The street is empty of people and you can smell smoke in the air, not wood smoke, a more acrid scent of burning rubber and something else. Sun light streams through the haze, the many fires in the city starting to bleed together, as they burn unchecked. You can see a minivan on fire further down the street, next to where your neighbors were attacked. Their bodies aren’t there anymore. 

Frankie leans in and gives you a quick kiss, “Once I start up the engine, people might come running and I’m gonna need to drive fast and dodge, so hold on to me very tight, cariño.” 

Your eyes are wide and fearful as you nod, gripping tight onto his jacket as he straddles the bike in front of you. The dirt bike’s engine roars to life and you flinch, it’s horrendously loud in the silent city. You see Frankie���s eyes flick to the side view mirror and you look behind you, ice fills your veins as your heart all but stops. A stream of people are stumbling out of the alleys behind you, they’re moving with jerky movements, all focused on the noise of your bike, mouths stretched open in screams that you can’t hear over the roar of the engine. 

“Hold on!” Frankie yells and you tighten your grip on him as the bike lurches forward. As you turn forward you see people coming out onto the street in front of you too, Frankie dodges left and right in quick succession to get past them and the bike flies down the street. You squeeze the seat of the bike between your legs and bury your face in Frankie’s back as the bike tilts back and forth. The wind whips around your ears, the roar drowns out any other noise and you try to only focus on Frankie in front of you, leaning your head against his broad back as you keep your eyes shut. His jacket smells of engine grease, the outdoors, the last BBQ at Will’s place. You inhale and grab it tighter. 

The bike stops tilting back and forth and Frankie slows down a little bit. You carefully look up over his shoulder and see that you’re out on one of the big highways that cut through the city. It’s full of cars but the bike easily slips between them. With a sting Frankie realizes that his truck never would’ve made it through. Glad as he is that Pope thought to swipe the keys for the dirt bikes, he misses his truck, the safety of the cabin. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see it again. 

The highway cuts through the city, every now and then the strange people stumble out, attracted to the noise of the bike, but he speeds up and puts them behind you. The road climbs up, an overpass over another highway, and he slows down to pass between a big eighteen wheeler and a bus at the crest of the overpass, just clearing them. 

The wild looking man lurches out into the street, right in front of the bike, Frankie doesn’t even have a split second to swerves to the right, before the man’s hand flies out and grabs hold of your arm, ripping you from the bike as the bike topples over and skids over the ground. Frankie tumbles onto the asphalt, the dead man's grip stalling the engine, and the silence is deafening as he slams onto his back. 

You can’t scream, the wind has been knocked out of your lungs by the force of the impact on the asphalt, and now the man is on top of you, only your arms between him and his deranged face. You fight to get your legs up under him, to kick him off, but his flailing limbs, his shoes scraping along the ground as he fights to get to you, pin you down. Your eyes are fixed on his mouth, you’re trying to scream for Frankie, but you can only take short, shallow gasps, as you see…something…move inside his mouth. Something is moving over his tongue, past his teeth, white tendrils reaching for you. 

A gunshot echoes above you and the man is jerked backwards, slumping over to the side as you scramble back, grazing your hands on the rough surface. You kick him away from you, his mouth is still open and the white tendrils are still, flopping out onto the asphalt. 

“Get up! Run, run!” Frankie yells behind you as you hear the screech of several people from between the bus and the eighteen wheeler. You whip your head to the noise and see four of them running for you, it takes everything in you to not freeze on the spot, Frankie’s frantic yells behind you. You scramble to your feet and run as fast as you can towards Frankie, he’s crouched behind a car, gun trained at the people behind you, the dirt bike still flat on the ground. As you get to the car he grabs your arm and throws you behind it and takes aim. Lying on the ground you watch him fire six rapid shots and the screaming stops. He holds his aim for a beat, his face focused and unblinking, then he quickly grabs you and pulls you to him. His hands grab your body, scanning you for injuries, yanking back the collar of your hoodie and running rough fingers over your skin. 

“Did he bite you?” he almost yells, “Did he bite you?”  

“N..n..no, I don’t think so,” you stutter as Frankie grabs your arms and pushes the sleeves up over your elbows, twisting your arms in his hands, searching the skin for any break.

“Frankie, wh..what’s going on?” your voice almost breaks, his fear is contagious as he frantically examines you. 

“Get up, cariño, we need to keep going. More are on the way.” He pulls you to your feet and over to the bike, picking it up and quickly making sure your bags are secure. You get on and he swings himself up in front of you. The engine roars to life again, you wrap your arms around him and hang on as the bike speeds up. 

Your hands are shaking as you lock them around Frankie’s waist, the adrenaline that coursed through you after the attack is giving way to shock and as Frankie speeds through the city you start to feel the pain where your body hit the ground. Your hands are throbbing, stinging from where they scraped across the asphalt, you’re sure you have a bump on your head and on the outside of your thigh there’s a welt growing. You desperately want to be back in your apartment, curled up in bed with Frankie, on Friday morning, before all this. You bury your nose in his jacket and swallow down a sob. 

Frankie is more cautious after the crash, his heart is thumping as he swerves back and forth between obstacles, slowing down to scan for people. He sees them running towards the bike in the distance but soon loses them as he hits the main highway. He wants to stop, pull her off the bike and assess her injuries more carefully. Hold her tight and tell her he won’t fuck up like that again, that he’s trying to figure out how to combat what ever is happening to people. 

The man over her, her silent fight to keep him off her, he swallows back the groan that forces itself up his throat, he could’ve lost her right there, not even out of the city. He tightens his grip on the handlebars; keep her safe, get to cabin, get Lucía if Pope doesn’t already have her. 

Keep them safe. 

Keep them safe. 

Keep them safe.

…

As they leave the city there are less people, forty five minutes out into the open countryside, you haven’t encountered anyone since the suburbs. That’s until Frankie spots the makeshift roadblock up ahead, two nervous looking soldiers up front. As Frankie slows down they train their rifles on both of you, and he angles the bike so that his body covers yours. He turns his head and looks at you over his shoulder. 

“Keep your head down, cariño. If they shoot, throw yourself behind the car on the right.” 

You give him a quick nod and make yourself as small as possible behind him.

“Halt!” one of the soldiers yell, Frankie can see the single chevron on his arm, a private, green as can be by the look of his baby face and nervous grip on the rifle. Frankie stops the bike right by the car, about a hundred feet from the soldiers. The road block has hastily been erected, a big truck across the road, cars on either side, but they have gaps between them enough for the bike to easily slip through. 

“Get off the bike!” the other soldier yells as Frankie and you come to a full stop, “Turn off the engine and get off the bike!”. He’s a private too, and looks just as green. 

“We just wanna pass, we’re heading to our house,” Frankie yells. 

“Get off the bike!” The first soldier calls back and you see him aim down his rifle at Frankie. 

“We have orders to shoot anyone infected and you look infected,” the second soldier snarls, “get off the fucking bike and toss the keys.” 

“Infected?” Frankie says, “What do you mean infected? Is that what those crazy people are?” 

“Just get off the fucking bike,” the solider yells, raising his rifle too, “Final warning!” 

“Get off the bike,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “Get off slowly and get behind the car, crouch when I start shooting.” 

“Frankie..” you whisper and he nudges you, “Do as I say, cariño, get off.” 

You reluctantly obey and carefully swing your leg over the seat of the bike, stepping behind the car. He glances over at you, making sure you’re behind cover, before he slowly moves his hand as if he’s pulling back to get off. As he swings his leg over the bike he pulls his gun from behind his back and fires. You drop down behind the car as the soldiers' rifles rattle to life but it’s over in a few seconds, Frankie’s shots don’t miss, theirs go wide. 

“Get on, fast,” he grabs your arm and pulls you up and you swing yourself onto the bike again, behind Frankie. The two soldiers are sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around them both, as Frankie revs the engine. Suddenly you hear two men yell, and you both turn to see two more soldiers sprint out from behind the big truck. 

“Hold on!” he yells at you and gives the bike full throttle, the tires of the bike spinning as you clutch him tight. The sharp noise of gunshots zip around you as Frankie aims for between two of the cars, barreling through them and the sharp inhuman cry from the strange people, infected, goes up from somewhere behind you. 

You hear the gunfire but it’s no longer directed at you, as you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, you see a large group of the infected, launch themselves at the two soldiers. The noise of the engine drowns out the sound but you see their screams as they’re overrun. 

You turn back and press yourself against Frankie’s back, he weaves between the cars, finding a gap and leaves the highway. Crossing over a field, aiming for the mountains in the distance. 

…

You’ve left the highway far behind you, bee lining for the cabin across as much open country as you can, avoiding farms and towns. You’re almost there when smoke starts to rise from the bike. Frankie hastily stops the bike and kills the engine as you both get off. You quickly pull your backpacks away from the smoke as he inspects the bike. 

“Fuck, it got shot, a bullet through the engine block,” he points to the hole where smoke is pouring out, it’s less now that the engine is off. “Better it, than us though,” he sighs, looking over at your taut face. Your eyes are rimmed with worry and dark circles, your mouth, usually so quick to smile when he looks at you, is pulled tight with tension as you stare at him. It breaks his heart to see you so scared and he takes your hand in his, trying to give you some comfort.

“What do we do, Frankie?” you ask in a quiet voice, eyes drifting to the remains of the bike. 

“We hike, we’re about two hours on foot away,” he points up the trail you’d been on with the bike, a sparse forest around you. “This trail connects with the trail that leads up to the waterfall, we’ll come down the back way to the cabin.” He hoists his backpack up and you copy him, settling it on your back. 

“I really hope Pope is there with Lucía, and Will and Benny too,” you mumble, as he takes your hand again, his gun in the other, and starts walking up the trail. 

“Yeah, me too, cariño, I sure as fuck hope they all got out.” 

The hike is quiet, no people, no infected. The trees give you shade even though the late September sun isn’t very warm. You stop along the way to drink and fill your water bottles, the ice cold water in the stream reminding you of your trip to the waterfall on the Fourth of July. It seems surreal that the world, where a trip like that was possible, could crumble in all but twenty four hours. You have so many questions to ask of Frankie but he’s on high alert, his eyes swinging back and forth through the trees, his grip on your hand tight, you daren’t say anything until he seems to sense your mood and looks over at you. 

“We’re almost there, hermosa,” he stops and puts his hand on your cheek, “are you tired?” 

“Yeah, but probably no worse than you,” you lean into his touch, closing your eyes briefly. 

“We’ll rest and take stock at the cabin, sleep there tonight before we decide on our next move, try to figure out what the hell is happening too.” His thumb strokes across your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip and for a moment his eyes soften, his face turning into that warm, sweet smile you’ve always loved him for. It’s only for a moment, something rustles the leaves above you and his gaze snaps up, on high alert again. 

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, taking your hand again and moving down the trail. 

….

It takes another half an hour for you to reach the cabin but as you approach, you wince, there are no cars or trucks parked up front, no dirt bike either. But as you get closer you can see the tracks from one at least, a sign that Pope has been here. 

Frankie approaches slowly, telling you to hang back, hiding behind a tree. Nervously you watch him approach the porch and the front door. He slowly pushes down the handle, finding it locked. There’s a key box hidden under the porch, a code needed to open it, and Frankie quickly puts it in and finds the front door key inside. 

Quietly he unlocks the door and motions for you to come to him. You walk across the grass as silently as you can, Frankie’s finger is over his lips. Motioning for you to wait by the door, your gun out, Frankie carefully ventures inside. He moves through the familiar surroundings, checking the kitchen and the three bedrooms before coming back to you. 

“It’s empty, no one is here,” he sighs. “No sign of anyone else.”

Chapter 13

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 5 - Probably should read ch1 first

Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

You are this close. This close to having a breakdown.

Who the hell flirts and says ‘are you hungry for food or something else,’ and invites you in for actual food. 

And, you think as you consider jamming the chopsticks into your eyes, why the hell did you follow him into his home. Do you have no sense of propriety especially after what an asshole Gun has been?

Are you so overcome with horniness that you abandon all standards?

Yeah Gun Park might be hot. Maybe even the hottest thing you have ever seen. 

Too bad he is rotten. A- a… 

Douche, your brain offers and you slump at the impact of the word, like a bang that just fizzles out, missing the mark. You were hoping for the most aggressive curses known to man. But yeah. He is a douche. A douchebag. 

Who the hell has black eyes. Who wears sunglasses indoors. Who does he think he is.

You know what? Fuck it. 

You will not be intimidated by his home. All clean lines and pretentious.

Clearly lacking a personality, just like him.

If he has invited you for food. You will eat. You will eat him out of house and home and gorge yourself until your stomach bursts.

With gusto, you tuck into the food laid out before you. Just about enough for two people if they had small appetites.

Douche. You swallow down a mouthful of bibimbap.

Douchebag. And inhale the pickled radish.

Asshole. You take a swig of the sharing bottle of Coca Cola. 

.

.

By the time that Gun comes out, he’s staring at a few stray clumps of rice.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” you give him the biggest grin you can. Ha, that’ll teach him.

With a shrug, he takes out his phone, taps a few more times then tucks it away into his pocket.

“More food is on the way.”

Oh. Your grin turns into a grimace, “...Thanks.”

.

.

Waiting for the next food delivery is painful.

The minutes slog by. Seems to slow down even more when Gun takes a seat at the dining table opposite you. Observing you with those sharp black eyes.

Gun doesn’t speak.

He hardly finds that he needs to in most situations, preferring to let the silence settle and permeate. Grow uncomfortable until fools find the need to fill it. Spilling more than they intended.

“So,” you lean back into your seat and cross your arms, “Gun Park?”

“...”

“That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“Gun Park,” you repeat again, testing the way the words sound on your tongue. Huh. It’s not as repulsive as you thought it would be.

“Y/N,” he says, and you jolt at the fact he knows who you are.

“How do you know?”

“I looked up who you are,” He says casually, like everyone just looks up random people, “I was curious.”

Oh yeah. Sure, that explains it. 

“What did you find?”

Gun rattles off statements about you. Reduces your life down to a few lines and facts and dates. Punctuates it with, “That was all the PI could find.”

“Private investigator?” You hear your voice getting higher with each syllable. The ‘-tor’ is shrill.

“...”

“You said you looked me up! I thought you meant on social or something! AISH!” You flop back into your seat and click your tongue at Gun, who seems tickled at your reaction.

Seriously. Who is this guy anyway. This sounds like some rich Chaebol shit, which… tracks. 

You glance around at his clothes, his stinking rich aura, the apartment that would be described as minimalist and never sparse or empty.

“Y/N.” Gun says again, this time he’s the one that’s testing out your name. He thinks of your furious eyes, the foot jammed between the door, all the times you flipped him off and finds he can’t help accompanying it with a small smile.

Oh.

All your anger and exasperation evaporates with that smile. Not a smirk, not mocking. 

His face lights up and transforms. Eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, a ghost of a dimple on his cheeks. It takes years off him, looking more boyish.

Damn, he is handsome.

.

.

Gun finds out very little else about you. 

At least, nothing that answers what he wanted to know.

As he eats, you ramble something about college and your family and friends. Moan about your sink. Talk a little about how odd it is to have money. To buy what you want but you still can’t bring yourself too.

He finds he doesn’t mind your words. Voice pleasing and warm, seeping into his skin.

And as you grow comfortable, gesticulating and body growing easy - Gun can’t recall ever having shared a meal with someone in his home. 

Can’t recall sitting with someone else in their company like this.

.

.

Silence settles, this time amenable, almost pleasant. Any annoyance long expired.

You notice the kitchen stove is spotless to the point of unused.

“Have you even used that?”

“Never.”

“So you just order takeout all the time?”

“When I’m home, yes.”

“You can’t cook?”

“I prefer spending my time doing other things.”

“Like what?”

Gun gives you another smile, this time teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat and your stupid traitorous heart pounds.

.

.

Over the weeks, as you cook you find the portion sizes growing infinitesimally.

It gets to the point that there’s enough for another portion left over and then some.

Huh. Will you fancy that.

.

.

The most difficult thing is getting Gun to thaw.

Because once he thaws and warms to you, he himself melts into a puddle surprisingly quickly.

Getting past those walls? Worming your way under his skin and finding a heart there? Nigh on impossible.

Actually statistically impossible, never been done before.

Saying that. He's never had such a constant, harmless presence in his life before too.

Someone that doesn't want anything from him or expect anything either. Doesn't know who he is, and accepts what they see.

There is no exchange of power. Barely even any exchange of words.

Gun finds with you, there's no ulterior motive.

If there's never any danger in the first place, then the walls don't need to be built as high.

.

.

Each time you see him, he's a little less frosty. The curt nod developing into a ‘Morning’ or ‘Evening’. Or when he’s in a particular good mood - ‘Hello’.

You continue flipping him off on the odd occasion and he stills the gesture, not used to the disrespect. (Who would even dare to do that to Gun Park especially if they want to keep their finger.)

Then he huffs, a tiny and subtle exhale and the briefest quirk of the lips. But it's there.

And so. You build up your confidence.

.

.

“Here,” you hold out a tupperware to Gun that he receives with thanks and little rebuttal.

By the next morning, or a few days after that, you always get your container back. Left on your doorstep with a sticky note and a messy scrawl.

‘thanks’

‘this was good’

‘more salt’

‘i dont like cilantro’

‘you should make this again’

‘too much garlic’

Even the criticism perks on your day. 

It becomes something you look forward to each morning. You keep the notes, hiding them away in a drawer.

The handwriting that initially is almost illegible you can now read with ease.

[shelby-fangirl00]

1919-Part Eight

So this took waaaaay too long to finish! I've been crazy busy with my summer internship so I have little free time right now. Let me know what you guys think of this one!

Warnings: Language, smuuuuuut (18+, MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 3131

‘What’s it like…leaving home for the first time?’ I asked softly, nuzzling my face into his neck. Our warm bodies sank together in his bed as the sun began to rise, shining on our skin. 

His eyes found their way to mine, sharply raising a brow. My smile softened as I stroked the tips of my fingers against his tight stomach.

His chest rose high and caved in such a way that warmed my insides. Resting his head on his shoulder, his fingers grazed up and down my spine. Goosebumps cooled my warm skin. 

Every moment we spent together in the last few nights made it harder to peel away from each other. Ever since he had left, I was searching for this fulfillment through any body I could. Other men were good to me, great even. But my thirst for the person I secretly longed for, the touch of the man who knows every inch of my skin and how to make it submit to him, was far stronger. 

He knew my heart, even better than Polly did. He read me so well, but to be fair, he can read most people well. This was different though. He empathized with me. He didn’t use the weakest parts of myself against me, like he had done to so many others. He listens to me ramble on about all the things I felt in the moment and all of the things I loved, because he truly wanted to know. 

 And when he smiles, oh god. My heart aches like it’s the first time witnessing such beauty. It would be a tragedy to go on in life without being the one Thomas Shelby was smiling down on. I felt tremendously loved by him in this moment, even though he would never say it. 

I was falling in love with him again. In a way, I’ve always been in love with him. But this love is different than before. This love, I felt, is something more mature and something much more valuable than before. Our foundation had been built so long ago. Peeling back the layers of eachother after the war was something I craved. This type of love I felt for him was so fucking consuming.  

‘Leaving was dreadful mostly…but also a bit freeing.’ I tried to imagine what it felt like to leave home without knowing if you’d ever make it back. 

‘Freeing, is it? In what way?’ 

His hand fell into my hair, lightly stroking, causing me to nuzzle even closer to him. 

‘It’s hard to explain…I finally realized how small and replacable I am in this world. When you grow up in a shitty little town like Small Heath, you forget that there is so much more outside of this place and these people. It changed the way I looked at the world. We are so finite. It’s humbling.’ 

His words vibrated off his chest as he spoke so eloquently, so at ease, as if he was thinking out loud to me. I felt my entire body fill with adoration and devotion. 

 I hummed in acknowledgment, finding comfort in his words.

‘If you could snap your fingers and go anywhere in the whole world…where would’ya go?’

Seconds passed by before Tommy wraped his arm around my waist, flipping me to my back, pining me under him. I yelped before grabbing his shoulders, giggling.

‘Wherever you are, love.’ 

Goosebumps again. 

He smiled down so wide, it was contagious. His dark features glowed as the sun glistened from his skin. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes and his deep dimples made me swoon.

I blushed under his gaze, reaching up to stroke his freckled cheek.

‘Why are you asking? I’ve finally got you back in my bed. You’re not going anywhere, Jas.’ He whispere a bit playfully before leaning down to nibble at my neck. 

I couldn’t help but rub my thighs together to relieve the ache between my legs. His breath on my skin sent shudders through me. 

‘Or you could take me away from here. Just for a little while…’ I mumbled before my eyes fluttered closed. He kissed down my neck as I spoke. My arms wrapped around his back, pulling him closer to me. 

He snapped his head back up and smiled so innocently. 

‘Alright.’ He said, pecking my lips quickly before practically jumping out of bed. 

I sat up, covering myself with the light white sheets, hair falling into my face. 

‘The hell are you doing?’ I laughed as he started to get dressed in front of me, pulling on an old pair of slacks. 

‘I thought you said you wanted me to take you away for a while?’

My whole body froze with shock and excitement. I knew ‘a while’ for Tommy meant an afternoon away from work, maybe something overnight if I was lucky. I didn’t mind though, my heart swelled at his attempt to make me happy.  He never had to try though. I was happy just to be around him, witnessing his beauty and brilliance.

I stared at him with a smile, sheets still loosly hanging around my chest. He stopped to stare back, examining my body. 

‘As much as I would love to keep you in my bed like that, you should go get dressed. I want to show you something. 

                                                --------

‘Not that I’m not enjoying this, because I am, but where the hell are we going?’ I asked, seated behind Tommy ontop of Gleam. We were seemingly roaming the countryside, which I didn’t mind, but I was curious as to what he needed to show me. 

 The sun attempted to peak through the clouds and trees today. We were trutting slowly down a graveled and rocky road, green is all I saw beyond the path. Along with a small farm house every few minutes or so. It was peaceful here. The only sounds I heard in the distance were dogs barking and the crackling of bonfires. 

Without answering me, he led Gleam towards the entrance of a larger farm house, splattered along the green hills of the countryside. Its abundant surrounding lands were protected by a low stone wall that winded around the property. 

‘What are we doing here?’ I asked as he plopped off of Gleam, reaching for my hand to help me down. My gaze was fixed on all of the open land this place had. I wondered who was rich enough to afford a place like this and what in the hell were two locals like us doing here?

‘Come on, let’s go inside.’ He said after leaving Gleam untied since we were fenced into the property. He grabbed my hand playfully and pulled me towards the entrance.

It was almost as beautiful on the inside. It was quaint but elegant. Nothing too gaudy or obnoxious. It was mostly empty though. The only thing inside the kithen was a high standing island in the middle. The floors were shiny and marbled with a black trim. 

Tommy walked in behind me, shutting he door. 

‘Living room in just ahead, bedrooms extend to the right of it. Nothing in em yet.’ He said casually, like he had been here plenty of times before. I gauked at him curiously. 

‘It’s fucking beautiful, yeh? Who’s is it?’ 

‘It’ll be John and Esme’s in a few weeks. I was offered this property months ago and with how well we’ve been doing at the betting shop, we could afford it.’ He shifted his weight before continuing. 

‘Those two deserve to have a place like this. Those kids deserve something nice and big, not a tiny bedroom in the middle of fucking town. Do you think they’ll like it?’ I could see that he was searching for my approval. 

I grabbed his face, pulling him into a soft kiss, in approval of his kindness. 

‘Of course, they will! This is so so perfect, Tommy. The kids will be so much happier here. Esme will be so greatful. She’s getting too crammed up in town. She needs to live out on the countryside. You did such a good job, Thomas!’ I smiled up at him, squeezing his hands in mine and praising him for doing something so thoughtful for his brother.

He smiled and sighed loudly in relief, as if my words were fact and he no longer had to worry or question his decision. 

‘That’s what I’d hope you’d say.’ He whispered. His hands dropped to trace lines against the tops of my thighs. My dress rose up as he exposed my skin to the cool air. 

I hummed in delightment, egging him on. 

‘You’re such a good man, Thomas Shelby.’ My hands scaled the length of his stomach, trailing down to his belt buckle. 

His eyes grew darker at my words, he let out a low groan. His hands hiked my dress up over my ass, squeezing both of my cheeks in his massive hands. I squeeked under his intrusive touch. Every inch of skin he touched lit me aflame. 

I lifted up on my tippy toes to kiss him slowly and deeply as I unfastened the buckle.

My hands stopped as his tongue pushed its way inside of my mouth, fighting my tongue for dominance over my mouth. He pinched my ass cheeks with each hand harshly as he pulled me off his mouth and pushed me away from him. I stumbled backwards, catching myself from falling over my feet.

He stood plainly, catching his breath in his chest as he spoke. 

‘Take off your dress.’ His voice dripped with lust as his eyes were dark with desire. He leaned his back against the kitchen island, hands in his pockets. 

He wanted to watch me strip down. 

My breath hitched, feeling so small under his gaze. 

I reach behind my back to untie the strap around my waist. As my bright yellow dress became loose. I pushed the sleeves down my arms, wiggling the dress down and around the dips of my hips. 

His eyes devoured my body from across the room for what seemed like minutes. Finally, he reached down and palmed his obvious erection, relieving the throbbing behind his pants. 

I drew my lip into my mouth as I watched him watch me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do. 

‘All of it, off.’ He growled out as he unzipped his pants and casually released his hard cock from its imprisonment. My mouth hung open slightly as my eyes couldn’t look away. He started to stroke himself lazily, waiting for me to pull off my soaking panties and bra. 

As I untied my bra strap, I let it fall to the floor, along with my panties too. 

At some point in the process, he had stripped away his coat, exposing the holsters that wrapped around his shoulders and chest, excentuating his large and broad figure. Aside from his exposed cock and lower tummy, he was completely clothed. 

I watched him stroke up and down his long cock; I was practically drooling. He noticed and let out a light chuckle at how desperate I was. 

‘Get on your knees, Jasmine.’ My heart fluttered and my pussy clenched at his use of my name and his command. I did as I was told instantly, falling to my knees. 

He walked towards me until his cock was level to me.  I hadn’t done this with him in years. I was feeling much more confident in my abilities than I did the first time around. 

It twitched in excitement as his hand fell to my chin and lifted up my face to look at him. I batted my eyes needily, putting on a show for him.

‘Tell me what you want.’ He said, voice flat and dark. 

‘I want your cock in my mouth Tommy, please.’ I said softly, my voice shooting an octave higher. My hands rested on my thighs and I straightened my back out, sticking out my tits.

He groaned again, followed by a laugh. 

‘I like you on your knees, begging like that.’ He practically whispered, releasing his hand from my chin. 

I took this as my opportunity. I wrapped my hand around the base of him, licking my tongue slowly up the length of him before pushing my lips past the sensitive head of his cock. I swirled my tongue along the roundness of it, forcing a sharp inhale of breath from Tommy. His hands fell into my hair, wrapping the length of it around his hands and pushing my head further onto him. His cock slowly filled my mouth, pushing towards the back of my throat. He held my head in place, forcing me to adjust to his massive size. 

I gagged slightly as my throat burned at the intrusion. Tears pricked my eyes. His breathing became erratic as his head fell back. His hands still mangled into my hair. 

Finally, he pulled back. I gasped, filling my lungs with oxygen. I quickly continued to move my mouth up and down his length easily, using my hand to stroke him into my mouth. I looked up, tears running down my cheeks as he began to fuck my throat. My eyes widened as my throat relaxed and opened up for him. He felt me relax around him and hummed in acklowedgment.

I pulled back and before I could continue, he pulled me up from my knees and kissed me sloppily, pushing my body towards the large red ruh in the living room. Aside from the rug, the room was empty, to no surprise.

He lowered to the floor, taking me into his lap with him, my legs loosely wrapped around his waist. He didnt break the kiss as I positioned myself against him, grinding my wet folds over his shaft. 

‘Fucking Christ…I need to be inside you.’ He heaved out desperately. He cupped both of my tits in each of his hands, squeezing. He marveled at my hardened nipples, licking his lips. 

Slowly, I lifted myself up. As I did so, Tommy positioned his dick at my entrance. As he did so, I lowered myself down as he watched his swelling member disappear inside of me. My tight opening relaxed and stretched to accomadate his size. 

His mouth hung open and he let out a choked whimper. I lowered myself down slowly, filling myself up inch by inch, until I was at the base of him. We both held still for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes, as both of our faces contorted in pain and pleasure. 

‘You are so so perfect like this, love. I love-I love this…’ He stumbled over his words and I almost melted right there as he spoke so sincerely and so truly. He was just a man making love to his woman. I knew this was the real Tommy. 

‘Tommy, fuck you’re so big.’ I moaned out as I began to move up and down on his cock, riding him. I let my hands bear down on his strong shoulders and he wrapped his hands around my love handles, squeezing the flesh underneath his hands. 

‘That’s it…fuck yourself on my cock. You fucking filthy girl.’ He spoke lowly into my ear as my ass rose up and slammed back down onto his thighs over and over again. His words alone were enough to send shocks through my pussy. 

I did as I was told and moved up and down on his length, pressing my hands behind me and onto his thighs, sticking out my chest.

Bearing me down on him, Tommy held my hips in place as he fucked up into me hard and fast. I gasped, my breath getting caught in my chest. My head fell onto his massive shoulder. I was immobilized by his penetration. He was ripping me open in the best way. His cock was hitting the sweetest spot inside of me over and over and over again. 

Our sweaty bodies moved in sync as he flipped me onto my back and fucked me senseless. He held both of my wrists in one hand above my head and the other hand rubbed my swollen clit frantically. The room nearly started spinning as the sensations and pleasure and his beautiful face and body and heart hung over me, taunting me. 

‘Thomas, pl-please don’t s-stop! I stuttered out, closing my eyes in pleasure as he lifted my hips up with his own and fucked me even deeper on the floor of this lovely farm house.

‘Jasmine…fuck baby, I-I love you.’ 

My eyes shot open, but his were still closed in pleasure. He didn’t seem to notice the words that had just left his mind and flew out of his mouth. 

I tried to hide the beeming smile on my face. Did he really love me? Or was he just caught up in the moment? We had been fucking for the last three days and he had never said anything like this before. I knew I loved him too. 

‘Thomas look at me.’ I moaned as his eyes lifted to watch my naked figure rocking to the motion of his thrusts. He looked desperately into my eyes. They looked bewildered and almost like he was regretful. Then I realized it. 

I reached my hands up to cup his face and he slowed his thursts, watching me. 

‘I love you, Thomas.’ I smiled, hoping this wouldn’t scare him away. 

His mouth plunged into mine, kissing me so furiously. I felt the smile he let creep into the kiss which made me smile too. 

He kissed me and rubbed me and fucked me just enough to push me right off the edge. 

‘I-I’m gonna come Tommy…’ I whispered into his ear as he hung over me, thursting deeper and deeper into me. I wrapped both legs around his waist, getting as close as I possibly could to his body. The only place I ever wanted to be again was under him, protected and loved completely. 

‘Me too…come with me, Jasmine.’ He moaned out as he fucked into me relentlessy, rubbing my hungry clit as a massive wave of pleasure washed over every inch of my body. One last hard thrust and Tommy came right after me, filling me completely with his hot liquids. He whimpered softly over me. His face contorted so sweetly. I loved seeing the most intimate parts of Tommy.

As we both came down, he didn’t move from above me. He just studied my face as I studied his. I couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. I was terrified he regretted saying something like that in the heat of the moment. I didn’t though, I meant it. I always did. But did he?

Taglist below:

@lyarr24 @forgottenpeakywriter @casa-boiardi @tigernach575 @crabat-the-queen @adaydreamaway08 @trixie23 @sunset24t

[lunarchaosqueen]

She woke slowly to the sound of the shower in the distance. She rolled to the rapidly cooling side of the bed where he slept peacefully a few moments ago. Her eyes slowly adjust to the darkened room... Images of last night flooded her mind. She’d loved every moment of it.  Her skin still felt electrified by his touch. When she thought about this moment in her life she had always pictured it a bit more romantic, but She had really fallen for this man over their years of friendship. 

Her mind still felt foggy for the alcohol that she seemed to just inhale the night before. Iris’ mind slowly drifted back to the way his soft full lips pressed against hers. The way his hands explored every curve, every secret of her body. All the images came to a startling halt when she heard the shower turn off.  The room flooded with light as she watched him enter the room through hooded eyes.  At first all Iris could see was his wide shoulders. She loved the way he made her feel so small, so delicate, almost breakable. Her eyes searched for his face praying that he wouldn’t notice that she was awake.  His dark brown almost black hair clinging to his forehead just above his dark eyebrows. Those eyebrows framed his bright brown eyes that were framed by beautiful long black eyelashes. Her eyes fixated themselves on his full lips. Lips that were somehow soft and firm at the same time. She smiled to herself thinking about how his lips would slowly break into a lazy smile that would pull to one side, creating a lopsided smile that seemed to melt away any wall that she would try and build to distance her from him.

He stood in the skin searing water trying to make sense of what happened.  He scolded himself shaking his head, how could he have let this happen. How could he have let them have sex?  Damn it. Damn it he swore at himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Finn talk him into talking to Iris. He had so much to drink that he couldn’t he couldn’t really keep his distance. He tried so hard to be close to and yet keep a safe distance. He knew she had this way about her that made him want to open up. When he was sober he could shut down anything that tried to find its way out of his mind, but drunk it was like he lost all control.  He stepped out of the shower reaching in to turn it off before wrapping the towel around his hips.

He opened the door quickly trying to remain silent. He turned to the bed hoping that the light hadn’t awakened her. He stood there for a moment looking at Iris. His eyes followed the soft line of her body hidden just underneath the thin black sheet.  Even in the dark He could make out her face. Her dark hair fanned out against the pillow, a few hairs clinging to her slick forehead. His eyes dropped from her hair to her eyes.  Her dark lashes fanned out against her pale pink skin. Her eyes were closed but he could still picture her big doe eyes. They were a dark brown that seemed to burn with emotion. Then his gaze fell again this time it fell to her nose.  It was little and cute, when she laughed or smiled it crinkled at the bridge. But by far his favorite part of her was her thick full lips that always seemed to beg to be kissed. He liked making her laugh... When she laughed her smile spread across her whole face revealing dimples on either side.

Damn it… damn it... He thought again. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he set out looking for his clothes. Walking around the room he squinted at the tangled mess of their clothes that were tossed haphazardly across the floor. Sifting through the clothes he began to talk out loud to himself. “What the fuck were you thinking,’ he paused as Iris let out a low purr before shifting in her sleep. He waited, holding his breath. Before  continuing to talk to himself “This was a giant mistake… What are  Finn and guys going to say if they find out. You idiot”

Iris shifted again, her back now facing him. Finally he found his pants. Pulling them on quickly. He didn’t want to risk staying any longer. HIs entire body seemed beg him to lay back down in the soft sheets and his body around hers.  He forced himself to leave the room shirtless. Pete Walked to his car as he tried to talk himself down. Maybe she wouldn’t remember what happened, he thought to himself. She was pretty trashed.  He pulled the door shut behind him pausing one last time to look at Iris.

Iris heard the door close as he left, waiting until she heard the car start and drive away before letting the tears spill from her eyes.  She heard him say it was a mistake. Like most girls when she was in her late teens Iris used to daydream about the night she would lose her virginity. She pictured it many different ways, But by far her favorite was filled with quiet giggles filling the air. The whole fantasy filled with gentle slow kisses was like stepping into a warm bath. Every moment  getting more and more intense. Iris  had tears pouring down her face… never in all those daydreams did she think it would have played out  this way, a sloppy drunk mistake.  

She told herself it would be ok, that if he didn’t want anyone to know that he had stooped so low as to sleep with her she was not going to damage his pretty little reputation. She could feel the mixture of complete heart break and raw anger burn just beneath the surface of her skin.  She shifted to her side, wrapping her arms around herself and cried herself to sleep.   

Iris woke a few hours later, her face swollen and chapped from crying.  Iris pushed herself out of bed knowing she only had a few hours before she had to be at work. She made her way to the bathroom trying to forget what had happened a few hours earlier. She peeled her clothes off as the shower water started to heat up. Iris looked at herself in the mirror taking in the aftermath of last night. Her long hair was rumpled and hanging loosely around her shoulders.  She brought her hands to her throat in disbelief. Her hands gently trace the dark purple trail of hickies that ran from just behind her ear lobe to the midpoint of her breast on the opposite side of her chest. Iris shook in anger how dare he leave marks on her. She stepped into the shower hoping the hot water would help burn away any pain or anger that was inside her.  Iris stood in the shower until the water ran cold hoping that the hot water would ease her red puffy eyes and the ache between her legs. When Iris stepped out of the shower all she could see was the bright purple marks on her skin. Anger made her blood boil again.  Great, she thought to herself not only did it feel like her vagina was going to fall out but now she had to figure out how to cover up this monstrosity that covered her neck.  Iris took her time trying to cover the spots before leaving for work. After fussing with the clothes and the make up for about an hour Iris gave up.She knew that she was going to hear about how stupid it is to allow someone to mark you up, when you work  in the public eye.  As she walked out the door she pulled at her collar once more before locking the door behind her.  The only thing she could count on being good today was the fact that Pete had the day off.

Iris drove in silence until the memories of last night started clawing at her subconscious. She turned up the music in the car trying to drown out Pete’s  words from playing over and over in her head. Iris had this habit of replaying things over and over in her head. Each time it replayed it like the world got more viscous. It was like Iris was slowly picking at an infected cut the more she picked the more it bled. Just as she made her way to the locker room, she heard Finn’s voice, “ There you are love. A bit late , are we?” His lips curled in to his classic heart s topping smile. “What happened to you last night? I though we were riding home together?”

Iris gremiced “ I got another ride home, when home a little early.”

Finn took a seat next Iris on the couch in  their faction's locker room. “ Umm, another ride?” He laughed getting excited. “Did my sweet virginal angel take a man home last night?” 

She smiled sadly at her best friend, “ I did. But, I do not want to talk about it right now.” She stopped to wipe her face quickly, “How about we practice our match for tonight.” 

Finn stopped in his tacks, “ Wait what?” who did you taking home? What happened?” 

[otterandterrierwrites]

💫 for the song meme. han/leia because I'm in love with how you write them ALLL the time!

I wanna read your mind to know just what I've got in this new thing I've found

Brilliant disguise - Bruce Springsteen

A/N: thank you! 🥺 sorry it took me so long 😅 based on this prompt

***********

For a split second after the words, she feels out of space and time. Like she has stepped out of the life she's in, and into the life of someone whose biggest problem at the moment is the subtle rejection of the guy she's been hooking up with.

Of course, that's not who she is, and that's so far down her list of problems, it's barely one at all.

'Okay,' she says, a little too brightly because, really, it's fine. 'I understand. I'll see you around?'

She pivots on her heel without waiting for an answer and straightens her vest, doing her best not to look like she's running away but rather aiming for a dignified retreat.

'Hey no, I didn't—wait!' she hears, and his hand wraps over her shoulder before she gets one foot out of the cabin.

'Leia,' he says when she stops and turns back to look at him. There's something about her name coming out of his lips like that, not tumbling out in the so-called throes of passion but said with intent, with his eyes on hers and a look she can't quite decipher, that shakes something loose inside of her.

'I wasn't kickin' you out,' Han says, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he's trying to puzzle her out.

'You said we didn't have to have sex,' she tells him, in her least annoyed voice—and she is annoyed, because he could at least have told her before she did the trek through the glacial Echo Base corridors. 'What did you want me to hang back for, a friendly game of Dejarik?'

Han blinks. 'Well, if you want...'

She rolls her eyes and begins to turn away again because her patience isn't limitless, but he stops her once more.

'Hang on! I meant it's okay if you just wanted a warm place to sleep tonight,' he says. That was what she told him when she showed up, that she came because her room was freezing. Even for Hoth standards. Then he made a joke about how she was just using him for his body heat. Then she started kissing him and sticking her hands under his shirt. And then he stopped her.

'It ain't a... an expectation, y'know?' he adds now. 'The sex. 'S fine with me if we just, uh, hang out sometimes. If you want.'

Leia stares at him, uncomprehending. No, that's not true. She knows what he's proposing. They are, crudely put, fuck buddies, and they're also friends, and she hangs out plenty more with him than she does with any other rebel even when they're not having sex, but... But. That’s not what he means. There are lines they haven’t crossed, that she said she wouldn’t cross, because this can’t become that kind of relationship. She ought to say no. No thank you, I’m fine with the way things are, it is what it is.

What she says is, ‘Okay, hotshot.’

The smile Han gives her isn’t like the glare of a dozen suns or anything as poetic as that. It’s small and his teeth aren’t even showing. It’s barely more than a diagonal, dimpling the corner of his mouth.

And it’s everything.

'For the record,' Leia says, tamping down an emotion that is even more damning of a self-betrayal than her agreement to something she doesn’t even know yet, 'I didn’t think you expected to have sex with me. I like having sex with you. As in, I wanted to have sex tonight. Want to.'

He laughs, even as he’s puffing up his chest, and Leia lets him pull her into his arms. ‘Well, that’s a kriffin’ relief, sweetheart.’

‘Do you need that in writing?’ she teases, levelling a serious look at him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. ‘Shall I give my explicit and enthusiastic consent before you take off my clothes? Do I have to—’

Han kisses her before she can come up with anything else and, afterwards, she stays.

[bropunzeling]

how goes the wip!! i swear everyday i refresh my inbox eagerly waiting for your name to show up ahhh i am so excited for your next mattdrai! (no pressure or anything just expressing my excitement!!!)

ah thank you! well i'm about halfway through my outline, but unfortunately ive hit a bit of a lull. starting a new section of story is so hard!!! also. wedding planning is so hard especially when there is only like two months to go. lmao rip. but progress is happening though! hope i can get them to kiss at some point this calendar year!!

a snippet for you:

“Do you think it’ll be better?”

Leon turns his head, blinks blearily at Matthew. “What?”

Matthew lifts a hand and gestures into the empty air. “You know. Next year.”

“Can’t get much worse,” Leon mumbles.

That earns him another laugh. “Fuck, you’re such a grump.”

“Not really,” Leon protests faintly. 

“No?” Matthew’s grin is crinkled and crooked. “Sure seems like it to me, bud.”

“I’m not,” Leon insists. “It’s just…” Just the last six months, he wants to say, except he doesn’t know if Matthew would believe it. Not after years of Matthew only ever seeing him wound up until he’s spitting mad. Not when every time Matthew looked at him across the ice while wearing another team’s uniform, it lit a fuse inside Leon’s chest that was guaranteed to go off, to blow up in both their faces. He doesn’t know how to prove to Matthew that that’s not all there is inside him. Not the rootless frustration, not the resentment that he can’t seem to tamp down. That things used to be different.

“I want next year to be better,” Leon says finally. He picks up his wine glass and twirls it in his fingers, watching the crystal glitter. “I just… I can’t see how, yet.”

A foot nudges his own. Leon glances over to find Matthew leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, his own glass cradled in his hands. The top hat is dangerously close to slipping off his head. “How about this,” Matthew says. “New Year’s resolution. We both try our fucking hardest to make next year less shit.”

Leon’s laugh takes him by surprise, a harsh sound that catches in his throat. “Yeah?” he asks when he manages to take a breath. “And what does that mean?”

Matthew shrugs, shoving his hat more securely in place. “I mean, we could make the playoffs, for one.”

Leon scoffs. “Swinging big.”

“You know it,” Matthew says. Then his eyes narrow, go bright and focused. Same way they do on the ice, right before he tells Leon exactly where to find him. “I think we can do it. If our line is clicking, if we’re both on—I mean. We have to have a shot, right?”

Leon runs his thumbnail along the rim of his wine glass. They’re constantly trading off last in the Pacific with the Sharks and the Ducks. They still have shit defense. Last night they fell apart in record time, couldn’t even give Matthew the gift of a good showing in front of his former team. 

But Leon’s been here before. Staring down the barrel of a losing season, feeling the pressure on his shoulders, knowing it’s down to him and the guy next to him to turn things around. He's made bigger miracles happen feeling just like this.

Matthew’s nothing like how Connor was, but he’s just as good at pushing Leon’s buttons. At offering a challenge he knows Leon won’t refuse.

“Okay, fine,” Leon says, looking over and meeting Matthew’s gaze. “We make the playoffs.”

Matthew sits back in his chair, smile wide, punching dimples into his cheeks. “That’s what I’m saying.” He tips his glass towards Leon, tips his stupid, sparkly hat. “I’m holding you to that, Drai.”

“Sure. Fine.” But Leon’s smiling too, involuntary. He can feel it, the way it’s making his cheeks hurt.

[milflewis]

For fic title game: “knock on wood”

ok so. it's not like seb thought that lewis would come running to him when he retired. it's not like his first thought after good for him and a strange shaped thank you when lewis told him he was going to be announcing it was now that he can have lewis all to himself. now they can finally be something. lewis's retirement is about lewis. not — not lewis and him. except. except he did kind of maybe expect lewis to give him a call during the months after the season ended and lewis walked away from formula one. they text sure. but. but there's no calling. and there's no talk about what lewis is doing and for the first time since seb retired he doesn't know how to talk to lewis and at least then lewis was still there. lewis goes to a few fashion shows. a charity event. he swims somewhere warm and gets ice cream all over his face as his niece laughs off camera. seb is not stalking him. he's just. he's just keeping up to date for when they do call. jenson laughs himself sick down the line and has to call him back after he accidentally hangs up. he's in colardo mate. jenson says. fucking go see him if you want to so badly. seb swallows. what if he doesn't want me there. jenson's face is very serious. it's the closest seb has seen him to being angry in years. since when do you lie to yourself. and then: there is no lack of bravery in sebastian. isn't that what he said. where's that guy now.

seb counts to thirteen and back again before knocking on the smooth stained wood of lewis's front door. he has the aircode from when he stayed over a few years ago. the aftermath of that party wasn't the first time seb had sworn never to drink again but it was the first time he very nearly stuck to the promise. lewis is barefoot when he answers the door. his toenails are painted a sage green. sebastian's chest hurts. hi. lewis's eyes crinkle at the corners when he says hi back. clearly a lot confused but still delighted. face lit up at the sight of seb at his door.

we should do le mans. seb says into the side of lewis's neck. seeing where the skin goosebumps. he exhales again to watch it spread further. lewis laughs under his hands. arms loose around his shoulders. ok.

i'm hoping when you told me that you wouldn't fuck me that had more to do with me driving my car into your side a few hours earlier than you not wanting to fuck me at all. sebastian says. pulling back just a little to watch the lines around lewis's mouth deepen as he laughs. seb knows that relief. sebastian's thumb traces his dimple when he kisses him.

[patrophthia]

fallin’ for ya | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

genre: fluff, pining (kinda mutual pining), humor, crack, more fluff omg so fluffy

words count: 1.7k

original posted on wattpad

"you know [l/name], we were just talking about you before you came over."

before she could even retort about how they went back to last name basis and playfully reprimand him for it, he added, "james wanted to know if you'd like to go out with him this weekend."

“you twat!" he shouted, grabbing sirius in chokehold which only resulted in peter helping sirius fight for his life. "you dickhead, why didn't you let me ask her that myself?"

"because, you'd end up postponing it like you always do. it's been months prongs! get it over with!" screamed sirius between breaths, "honestly, you were putting gryffindor's name to shame."

it wasn't a rare occurrence for the quidditch teams to wreak havoc as they pass by the hallways. so really, it was the same old ordinary story for her to discuss her classes with her friends as a group of loud boys walked by.

now, there's one thing you should know. [name] has always prided herself to not be the type who falls for a guy who flashes her a smile (her friendship with the notorious sirius black which started from his failed attempts of trying woo her as evidence). she didn't swoon when sirius called her petnames, nothing. no matter how cool for school he may seem to be.

but there was something, something so unexplainable, a feeling that had her in a fit off smiley giggles —no matter how unlike her it was to do so— that had her scolding herself internally when james potter cruised by, grinning at her the second he spotted her.

she knew right then and there that she was in deep shit. they knew each other, of course they did, sirius would never stop talking about one to other and vice versa which meant that they're sort of acquaintances.

but merlin, something about that smile, the way his hazel eyes crinkled behind his round glasses, the slight dimples on his cheeks and the perfectly straight teeth that he had, had her in a fit. she was certain he'd still be the boy that she'd pick in a line of thirty hot guys.

"oh fuck."

"oh fuck's right," her friend, lucien retorted after having caught her staring at james, demanding a confession of sort. "i mean out of all the boys in hogwarts, you chose potter?"

"i didn't choose to!" she argued with a defensiveness that she didn't expect from herself. "i just fell for him!"

"good lord, you might as well prance around singing to him 'i've fallen for you! i know i shouldn't but i just can't stop myself' maybe he'll sing it back to you," lucien said teasingly, creating a tune as she went with her words. "perhaps you won't be lonely for the first time in -what, six years?"

"you're the worst friend ever," she groaned. the pair of them turning the corner so they could enter the transfiguration classroom. "you're supposed to help me get over him, this isn't good new for either of us-"

"good afternoon, [l/name]."

"er- good afternoon, potter," she greeted in return in a more questioning manner, he only smiled; turning back to his conversation with his friend. the feeling of blood rushing to her cheeks not missed by herself.

"er- good morning, potter," lucien said mockingly, a smirk on her thin lips. "i never pegged the great [f/name] as the type to fall for a guy just 'cause he says hi."

"it was 'good afternoon' not 'hi' and those are big words for someone who choked on pumpkin juice just 'cause they made eye contact with evans."

•••

she knew it was a mistake to introduce lucien to sirius. merlin, lucien alone was too much for one to handle when it comes to teasing, but put the two drama queens together? that was just a disaster waiting to happen. so when sirius approached her, tearing away from his herbology partner to annoy the life out of her, she was more than prepare to suffer for the next hour.

"so..." sirius drawled out, snatching her attention away from the plants she was maintaining. "a little birdie told me you fancy a certain friend of mine."

"yeah, lupin is one good looking lad," she quipped, praying that her body wouldn't betray her collapse right then and there from embarrassment. goddamn it lucien.

sirius rolled his eyes exaggeratedly; trying to get her to understand just how 'annoyed' she made him feel. "honestly [name], i'm pretty sure james fancy you too you know."

the way he spoke so nonchalantly put her on edge, but that didn't stop her from perking up to try to get more information from him. "we were talking the other day and he said you looked really pretty when he spotted you during one of his practices, that's a crush if i saw one."

"something about you catching his gaze as he was preparing to race," he muttered with a mischievous smile, "truly poetic."

"would you stop?" she grumbled, going back to attending her plants. "it's honestly not that big of a deal."

"not that big of a deal?" sirius gasp dramatically, pressing a hand on his chest for good measure. "this is the love of your life and it's not that big of a deal?"

she rolled her eyes, a remark ready at the tip of the tongue when professor sprout loudly clear her throat cutting off the pair's conversation.

"mister potter could you please focus on your partner rather than miss [l/name]?" she questioned, for the briefest moment she thought she saw a small smile on the edge of the professor's lip but she was quick to change her expression to a stern one. "or did you want to switch partners? if that's the case, you'll need to discuss it with miss [l/name]."

"no professor," he said quickly; rubbing the back of his neck as his ears flushed pink, "i-i was just a bit distracted."

the professor hummed, taking his excuse without further questions, letting him continue on his work. from her side she could feel sirius physically vibrating with excitement, slowly she turned; facing him once more to see —exactly what she expected to see when it comes to sirius— the human embodiment of an enthusiastic puppy.

"seeeeeeeee?" he dragged out, smiling from ear to ear, "sirius black is never wrong miss [l/name]."

•••

christmas was approaching, fast. and like any other rational 'high school student' sirius had the bright idea to throw a christmas party just before the break started. which led to her to where she was now; in the middle of a crowded common room trying to find her raven-haired friend yet all her effort was to no avail.

the room was packed, loud music that she could faintly recognize the track of blaring from every corner of the place, the air was humid; hot from all the bodies dancing and grinding against one another.

lucien had (for once in her life time) sat out from this party, having land herself a date with a redhead she'd been pining over since the start of this school year. so really, [name] was as alone as one could be and she was really regretting her decision to have even gotten dressed up to come in the first place.

remus was tall, she knew that, almost everyone in their year knew that, but she never stopped to think for second about how much of life safer his height was. merlin, knows the relief she felt the second she spotted his mousy head of hair bopping to the beat of the song a mere feet away from her.

it was an unspoken rule she had ingrained into her mind: wherever one marauder was, there would be the other three.

her feet moved before her mind even process it's movement, pushing pass people in pursuit of the prefect who really should be stopping the party but was instead joining in the fun.

sirius was quick to cheer her name when his eyes met her, bringing her to his side and handing her a brand new bottle of butterbeer. "i thought you'd ditched on me."

"and have you bother me about how i betrayed you for the rest of the break?" she retorted, twisting the cap open and taking a sip, "no thanks."

"and here i thought that you'd come to see me." he pouted, making sure that he was giving her his best puppy eyes so he could play victim. "turns out you just find me annoying."

"everyone does," remus snorted, joining in the conversation.

sirius tutted, annoyance playing on his features when he suddenly had a bright idea. "you know [l/name], we were just talking about you before you came over."

before she could even retort about how they went back to last name basis and playfully reprimand him for it, he added, "james wanted to know if you'd like to go out with him this weekend."

james quickly protested, hazel eyes going wide with shock as his cheeks flushed up, ears tinted red out of embarrassment. "you twat!" he shouted, grabbing sirius in chokehold which only resulted in peter helping sirius fight for his life. "you dickhead, why didn't you let me ask her that myself?"

"because, you'd end up postponing it like you always do. it's been months prongs! get it over with!" screamed sirius between breaths, "honestly, you were putting gryffindor's name to shame."

remus with enough sensibility, and a final snort, pulled the three boys apart; freeing sirius from james grip along with peter and pulled themselves away, giving james and [name] time to converse between themself.

"so.." she trailed off, looking straight at him, "would you still like to go out this weekend?" james blinked, staring at her like a deer in headlights. his mouth opening and shutting. "because, i'd like to."

fuck, she was digging herself into a deeper hole with every second that passes by, "only if you want to, of course. if not it's completely fine, i-"

"yeah." he cut her off, staring at her. "i'd love to," he added after clearing his throat, "i'll see you then?"

"yeah, i'll see you then," she agreed, feeling giddy the longer they maintain eye contact. after a second she turned; deciding that it was best to leave it as it is only to be stopped by a hand grasping her wrist. she looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes once more.

"do you want to dance?"

—from bee: i love james potter ‼️

[introloves]

Just thinking about being super Domestic with Aone! He starts thinking about what a great little wife you’d be and how sweet you are. One day you casually mention what a great father he’d be if you guys had children and it does something to him! 💓

papa! aone + housewife! reader + HEAVY BREEDING KINK + talk of pregnancy (no kids) + princess complex + pillow princess! reader + overly protective! aone + praise + mating press + squirting + size kink + overstimulation + dacryphilia + creampie + f! reader

— word count; approx 2k

you treat him so gentle- a big man like him coming home to you after a long day of work always brings out a near overwhelming need to take care of him, to be there at every beck and call, waiting for him so pretty, looking towards the door with every second coming closer to him coming how to you.

everything you do for him doesn’t go unnoticed, aone doesn’t say much, but he returns your sweet kisses with an equal amount of love and adoration for his sweet little wife.

you’re near ravenous when he finally comes home, shrugging off his coat, boots taken off at the door, handkerchief in hand to wipe any lingering dust and dirt from his hands- not wanting to dirty any surface you’d spent all day cleaning. he’s even apprehensive in giving you his coat- looking at you with pinched lips, grunting while gently placing it in your waiting hands.

he doesn’t touch you until he’s all showered, even when you insist that it’s okay, the dirt beneath his nails from working, from being outside all day makes him feel dirty, you’re his princess, his pretty baby- how could he ever think to lay a soiled finger onto your soft and well taken care of skin...

he usually relents to your whines, begrudgingly bending down to place a quick kiss to your pretty lips- puckered and waiting for his own to press onto yours. he makes a straight line to the bathroom, showering, rolling his shoulders back once he steps out- towel secured ‘round his hips, and once again walking in a practiced route to your shared room.

he doesn’t change, he can’t because as soon as he’s out, you’re sat on the bed. pillows, blankets- comforter fluffed daily in anticipation for him to fuck you.

eyes eagerly drinking in his every step, water running down rounded out muscle, not so defined- not anymore. the home cooked meals that you make for him has treated him well, form fluffed out with muscle that’s more fitted for his job, it’s dense and packed in, thick. it makes your pussy throb.

“how was work papa?” you question sweetly, legs spreading wide to receive his body, slick folds wetly (and loudly) parting for him while you pin your knees on either side of you, giggling at the way he sucks a breath in every time, eyes looking at the pussy he so adores, mouth salivating.

he loves coming home to you.

he loves how soft you are, warm- thinks there’s nothing better smelling and more comforting than sinking deep- so very deep into the tight and wet heat that is your pretty pussy.

letting the towel fall at the foot of the bed, his cock hangs in a thick curve over his heavy balls, pretty white pubes decorating his crotch, tummy clenching in anticipation, it’s a sight seeing him get hard, thick length bending with how big he is- even fully hard there’s a delicious curve, gravity not too kind to him.

“good... i missed you.” aone mumbles. huffing as his now cleaned, calloused- thick... such thick hands reach to finally touch, soothing up the expanse of your legs, wondering how someone so pretty- so beautiful is laid out beneath him, pussy drooling for a cock like his.

you purr, smiling, body twisting- pushing up as his hands press you down.

“missed you more... was thinking about you- ‘bout something in particular.” you mumble, lidded eyes wandering up to his neck. watching the pretty blooming blush roll down all the way to his chest- wanting to reach up and remark and fading hickies, fingertips ghosting along faded lines of your nails dug in the moment of overwhelming passion.

“hm.” he hums, giving you his whole attention as you speak- looking at your lips as you form every word, planting heavy hands to the apex of your legs, digging the pads of every finger into the giving flesh, encouraging you to continue with a nod, all while kneading and squishing your body.

“was just thinking what a good papa you are- was thinking if you’d give me a baby... to keep me company while you leave.” you breathe, pulse quickening at the thought- head spinning the second the last word tumbles free, all because you’re suddenly pulled down.

it’s near audible, a lowly groan spreading forth from the deepest parts of his chest while he huffs- pale chest rising and falling rapidly, cock visibly throbbing- balls clenching, there’s even a moment where he thinks he may cum.

“f-fuck- a baby?” he exhales, tipping his head back, the stutter making you look at him with a hint of curiosity.

blinking away the base need to shove his cock inside, blinking away the need to push your head into the bed and dump load after load of his cum inside you, all with the intent to make you round with his kid he pulls your legs up he comes down towards you.

all to make you fat and pretty and waddle around while he takes you hand in hand everywhere you need to go.

he doesn’t realizes his hips have instinctively rutted down into you- too caught up in the thought of holding you while fat with a baby the two of you made.

hands dimpling your soft skin- muscle memory carrying every action, already folding you down, knees nearly pressing against your chest, heavy cock slotted onto your cunt, squished between your bent legs.

“i’ll give you a baby. my princess wants a baby.” he grunts, gone dizzy. all of this taking place in mere seconds of you spilling the thought. he says it like it’s a command from you, tunnel vision suckering him in, barely able to see you in the absolute need to give his princess everything her pretty heart desires.

you don’t know where he’s gone, obviously lost in a heavy headspace- popping the head of his still throbbing cock into you, crying in suspense. this is all so exciting, he’s always so eager to bring you what you want, always willing to move the stars and moon for you and now he’s answering to the fantasy you built up all day.

“p-papa!” you squeal, sucking in a breath when he barrels into you with a near punishing thrust.

this is different, he’s different. he’s always cautious with every thrust, but there’s no regret or remorse while the second slam of his hips knock into you. kicking legs just barely able to squirm at all with the way they’re perched on his broad shoulders, you watch as they dangle, watch while he stares you down, his own body moving with intent- drilling into your sopping pussy.

“papa!” you yell this time, soft hands holding onto his arms, his large palms resting on either side of your face while he folds himself down, the creak, sway of the bed dangerously loud- sucking every breath from inside your lungs.

he’s never been this rough, never- and your lips curl with every open mouth yell.

he fucks into you like you’re not there, thick cock splitting you open- filling your cunt, bringing you so very early into a blinding orgasm.

it’s so wet- eyes wet, pussy wet while you squirt and gush, crying out tiny little whimpers of his name as every wave of orgasm takes you. it splatters all over his thighs, painting his tummy, dripping back down onto you hotly.

this is all he needs, needs you wet and messy, needs your pussy swollen and slicked with need and cum so you can take such a big cock easier- if you take it easier he can use every inch of strength he has to dig the swollen and still throbbing cockhead right up to your cervix. he can almost see the swollen ring so ready to take his cum, displacing your own weepy orgasm, making room to receive all of his own thick, milky orgasm.

“good girl- my good girl.” aone nearly chokes, unfocused eyes zoning down onto your bent form, pussy lips and folds sucked in and out in with each drag.

you’re melted, reduced to a babbling little baby under his large mass- doing so well, taking someone so strong and so big like him with nothing more than a few overstimulated tears. drool forming at the corner of your mouth, the only thing you can do is wait for his cum like the pretty princess you are.

“papa- ‘ts too much- too much.” you gasp, wandering eyes roaming up his neck, landing on hardened eyes.

“no- no it’s not. you want a baby. i’m giving you a baby.” he speaks- knowing this is hard on someone treated like a doll, soft hands digging into the veined arms of his, same hands that never work too hard for anything at all, all because he insists on treating you with any and everything.

and just like everything else, he knows he needs to cut this short- knows you’re tired and wanting to drift off onto a nap, so aone fucks you deeply.

he needs to bend further and kiss away the tears spilling down your soft and plush cheeks- heated with the exertion he’s putting your body under, gently apologizing. the high and heated coiled need to breed you slowly waning, now just needing to paint your pussy with his cum.

“it’s okay- it’s okay, papa loves you- you’re okay.”

the gentleness, lowly and grunted words truly bring you peace, trembling under him- hiccuping at the thrusts he gives you, exhaling heavy when he tips forward to an orgasm finally.

sealing hips down to your own, rutting with securely placed knees down onto the bed.

he pushes you up a good amount, crinkling the bedding around your limp body, pistoning shallow thrusts, each one stickier- messier, harder to deliver as he cums. thick cock pulsating in need, sinking into such silky gummy walls all shaped to the form of his large cock.

he huffs equally shallow breaths, tired- so tired from an intense fucking, balls squeezing up tight to his body, every contraction followed by a deep squish of him to you.

“fuck- fuck.” aone groans, his shaking form transferred down to you, slowly bringing your aching legs off the perch of his shoulders. he gathers the last bit of strength residing in his body to take care of you, once more- with a gentleness only found in someone who’s been cautious of their own strength their whole life, he places your legs onto the bed.

you’re still dizzy as he does so, unable to keep the seizing of your muscles down- body heated and sweaty with how he folded your form into his desired state, slowly blinking your eyes more and more open.

blurry gaze landing on him, watching with a slowly growing smile as he looks at you with a reserved guilt.

“it’s okay.” you whisper, only able to whisper for the time being- “i’m okay.”

but even with what you say, he brings a large palm to your tummy, holding it there- reminding himself that it was to give you what you wanted. you just look so broken now, limbs unmoving, all dead weight while he positions your body much more comfortably.

with a nod, he pushes down any worry to hold you tight- swollen muscle wrapping your precious body up. your giggles bringing forth a near exasperated smile from him- wondering how his sweet baby still can be so... sweet after being fucked like that.

sleepy face burying into the crook of his neck while he fights to keep his softened cock inside you, pulling his princess onto him, slotting the plushness of you against his body.

“pretty.” he mumbles once the two of you are relaxed, basking in the tiredness throbbing throughout two fucked out forms.

“pretty baby.” aone whispers, bringing down a large hand to your tummy.

you can’t lift your head off his chest to give him a sweet smile, instead giggling with how well your papa takes care of you, how well he loves and gives you everything your pretty pink heart wants.