#Affordable Living Room Rug

[rugsluxe]

The living room serves as a gathering place for family and friends and a place to relax after a busy day. Making your living room look great and stylish doesn't have to cost a lot of money. If you pick the right affordable living room rug, it can really make a difference. This is how you can choose a rug that fits your budget and makes your neighbors gasp at how nice your home looks.

[malledhrim]

My roommate’s cat has found the perfect blanket to hide in

[prokopetz]

One of my favourite phenomena when doing those "some famous historical person lived here" tours is that sometimes the person in question was wealthy, but not, like, that wealthy, so they could afford the accoutrements of wealth, but not the floorspace, and you'll end up wandering through rooms that are impossibly well-appointed – carved hardwood panelling on the walls, fancy rugs on the floor, gilded chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the whole nine yards – but the room itself is only like eight feet across.

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 

“Pretty please?” 

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?” 

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed. 

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

[navybrat817]

Any chance we can see Winter and Kisa? 🥺

I owe them a proper one-shot, nonnie, but I may have a little something to hold you over.

Almost Like Home

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky told you his place would be your home one day. You see it firsthand with his closet.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Tension, longing, pet names, possessive behavior, slight obsessive behavior, conflicted reader, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Winter and Kisa. That okay, lovelies? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo . Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Arguing with Bucky to let you go back to your place was pointless today and you were too exhausted to try. Being sleepy was how you justified following him to his bedroom, your footsteps gently echoing in the hall. You took in your surroundings and tried to reason that it was out of curiosity and to stay alert, not because this would be your home one day. Even if he said it would be.

You’d take a quick nap and be on your way, right?

“You sure I can't carry you in?” Bucky offered as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall, sneaking a glance at you over your shoulder.

He trusted you enough to have his back to you.

“Don’t you dare,” you said without a hint of malice, biting your lip when he smiled and opened the door to let you go in.

“Worth a shot.”

The rays from the sunset seeped in through the window curtain before Bucky turned the light on. The bedroom was beautiful, as expected, with a king-sized bed, a chair near the balcony, and a fireplace. You imagined him sitting and reading after a long day. But the vanity didn't appear to be his style at all.

It looked like something that belonged in your room.

Bucky didn't attempt to move toward you as you met his all-consuming gaze, which somehow made the tension grow. It would’ve been easy to drag him to his bed or let him shove you down and make you his the way he claimed you were. But one taste wouldn't be enough for either of you.

“As much as I'd love to see you in my clothes,” he said to break the silence, gesturing to a door along the wall. “You might find something more to your liking in there on the right side.”

“I can't sleep in this?”

He dragged his lip along his teeth and shook his head. “The bastard who hit you may not have touched your clothes, but I’d sooner burn them before they touch my bed.”

“Possessive bastard,” you muttered, part of you liking it.

His watchful eyes followed as you crossed the room and opened the door, your mouth falling open as you looked around. The closet was larger than your apartment living room. To the left were suits, shoes, watches, and more that clearly belonged to the mobster. But to the right…

Your heart raced as you walked over and pushed through the clothes, something heavy settling in your stomach when you realized they were all your size. Not only that, they were designs and styles you wore and liked. Many of which you'd never be able to afford, let alone have the pleasure of feeling the fabric under your fingertips. You had long accepted that working for a living would never give you a life of luxury.

There weren't many times in life where you had the rug pulled out from under you, but this was something else entirely.

“What is this?” You whispered, turning toward Bucky as he strode through the door.

“Your closet. Well, our closet. You like it?” He answered, pride in his eyes as he glanced at your side. “I figured you could look at some of the shoes and jewelry after you get some rest. And you’ll love the lingerie almost as much as I will.”

You took a deep breath. And another. It did little to calm you down. “Bucky. I am not your girlfriend and I sure as hell don't live here, so why do you have half of your closet set aside for me?” You demanded.

Bucky lifted a shoulder, unbothered by the fury and touch of sadness that simmered in your eyes. “Girlfriend isn't really a title I want you to have. Wife and my queen, yes. Those will do. And you will live here, so I had to make sure you have clothes,” he said as his eyes bore into yours. “Though I don't mind if you'd rather walk around without wearing anything.”

Your face heated up as he stepped toward you and you wished you could ignore the throbbing between your legs. “You're delusional,” you stated.

He chuckled low, the sound sending more heat through your traitorous body. “No, Kisa. Not delusional. Prepared and excited, but not delusional.”

You scoffed, trying to cover up your arousal. Why did he put more into obtaining you than any other guy who crossed your path before? “Whatever you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night, Winter.”

“I'll sleep much better when you're beside me.”

The softness in his voice surprised you, like you sleeping beside him would bring him some sort of comfort as well as satisfaction. “You say that like it's a sure thing.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as he smirked, all confidence and swagger. “Oh, you and I both know I always end up getting what I want.”

But what if he stopped wanting you one day?

Your back was against the wall, nowhere to go as he took another step forward. “You can't have me.”

The words sounded empty and you both knew it. “And why is that?” He asked.

“Because I can't let you have me,” you answered, pausing as your gaze shifted away from him. You almost regretted the next words that slipped out of your mouth. “You cloud my judgment.”

The admission didn't lift the weight from your chest because it didn't change anything. At the end of the day, Bucky would continue to do terrible things and you wouldn't bring him to justice. You couldn't bring yourself to do so. Yet you brought others in.

How many times could you justify letting Bucky roam free because he had a heart beneath the surface?

You willed your knees to keep you upright when he rolled his sleeves up more and smugly smiled. “Is that so? Hmm, I like the idea that you can't think straight around me.”

You held up a hand when he moved closer, as if it would stop him. “Don't let it go to your head. My job comes first. You know that.”

He grasped your wrist and brought it to his mouth, his lips barely grazing your skin. The spark between you continued to ignite when his tongue darted out. “Well, if I had it my way you'd come first every single time.”

The breath left your lungs in a rush. “Bucky, please,” you whispered, hating how weak you sounded when his scruff touched your skin.

He hummed as he pressed his lips against your pulse. “That's one of the things I imagine you saying before you come.”

You didn't rip your hand away, enjoying the attention far more than you should have. “You're being ridiculous. You know we can't do this.”

“No, I don't know that. Though you keep saying we shouldn't,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over your head against the wall. His grip didn't hurt. You almost wished it did so you'd have more of a reason to fight. “Maybe you're the delusional one.”

“Maybe I am a little,” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “Because I've crossed the line enough by not bringing you in.”

Maybe your hands weren't as dirty as his, but they sure as hell weren't clean.

A sympathetic smile tugged at his lips. “Because you want me and want to be with me.”

His eyes traced along your face as your breathing got heavier. You didn't object or deny him. Doing so would be a lie and wasn't life clouded enough with too many of those? But to speak the truth would be to lose a part of yourself.

“It doesn't matter. When the chase ends, you’ll stop wanting me,” you said, his brows furrowing when your voice cracked.

Because the game would be over and why would he want to play again? How much of you would he take with him? What would be left in the wake of his victory?

His fingertips ran along your sore cheek and brushed away a tear that fell. “The chase will end because you’ll be by my side, but it doesn't stop there. I’m still going to court you and show you every day why I’m nothing without you.”

Tilting your head, he placed a tender kiss on your cheek. The same way he had in his den. Would it be so wrong to let him seduce you further? “But you have the world,” you whispered.

“You are my world,” he whispered back before he pulled away and released your hand, your body suddenly cold. Your breaths felt shallow as he ran a hand through his hair and he still hadn’t kissed your lips. He looked like he was restraining himself as well. “Those aren't just pretty words. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you, Kisa. Starting with the man who hurt you.”

The resolve in his eyes before he turned and walked away tugged at your heartstrings. “Don’t kill him. Please.”

He stopped in the doorway with a sigh, but didn't face you. “I told you I can't let it go,” he said, grunting as he flexed his fingers. “But I'll try not to kill him.”

You couldn't ask for more than that. “Thank you, Bucky,” you said sincerely, pushing yourself away from the wall. “But you really don't have to do anything to him in order to prove something to me.”

His blue eyes lit up with purpose when he looked back at you. “No one hurts someone I love and gets away with it,” he said, leaving you all alone with your thoughts.

Because what were you really afraid of?

That Bucky Barnes loved you or that you maybe loved him, too?

UGH. I love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lindsay00000008]

Ghost x Fem!Reader

Part 1 (Next)

CW: panty-thief, suggestive fluff

DownBad!Simon Ghost Riley who just loves handling the frustrating, mundane, mildly-anxiety-inducing issues in JustAFriend!Reader’s life.

For a man who’s been through… everything, nothing phases him. Not the phone call to pressure your old landlord into giving you back your deposit, not the broken dryer and the giant pile of wet laundry that needs to be hung in increasingly ridiculous locations, not the stray cat birthing a mewling litter on your doorstep in the middle of winter, or the neighborhood’s package thief stealing your delivery of what may be something electric and flower-shaped.

If you didn’t know any better (you don’t), you’d say he gets a kick out of it, how easily he handled these things compared to you. His take-no-bullshit demeanor, coupled with the respect afforded to those who earn it, smooths things over fairly quickly with difficult people.

He’s handy and likes taking things apart — he’s sure you won’t miss the dusty lace panties he finds slipped under the dryer’s barrel when he bullies the metal frame open (they were your favorite, where on earth did they go??)

When the kittens are a few weeks old and Simon comes to visit with more supplies, they snuggle up under his chin as he slumps on the rug, the furious blush from your earlier teasing (“Daddy’s home!”) warming him from his cheeks to his toes and making him the most cozy spot in the room. He waves off the offer of a hot drink and tells you to “Open a window or sumin’, the lil’ bastards are smotherin’ me”.

When he catches the package thief red-handed on his way up to your door — a fourty-something woman who talks at him louder and meaner than anyone has in a long while — he gives his best impression of a bull at the edge of an unmarked field, making his territory known with a wild look rather than words. When he sets the package down on the kitchen counter, along with the ingredients for tonight’s Thursday Dinner Experiment, he prompts you to open it. “Wanna see what my hard work has earned ya.”

You slice the tape and pop open the cardboard before you remember — and slam the flaps back down. That has his attention. “Whatcha got there, lovie?” He crowds in behind you, looking over your shoulder and grinning, lopsided so you can only see the smirk on the left of his mouth when you turn your head to stammer, “uhh n-nothing, just this stupid book someone recommended me. Can’t let the gang know I fuck with hockey romance, haha.”

“Hockey, huh?” He huffs and leans his elbow on the counter, half of his body still behind you somehow. You pull the box close to your chest, hands shifting to best keep it closed.

“Lemme just take this to my room and we can start making-“

“You’d deprive a man of valuable literary experience?”

“No, nuh-uh,” you dance away as he grabs for it teasingly, fast enough to make you panic but not too fast you can’t get away. A play fight. Your pulse thrums fast in your chest, like it always does when he gets that calculating glint in his eye. It’s thrilling, the way his shoulders shift and settle low, and his touch comes gentle and fast, his face a terrifying mask with that piercing glint of playfulness just barely hidden. You usually love this game. But he cannot see this.

His hand rushes towards you as you skirt backwards into the living room, his fingers tangling in the tape hanging from the box. It tears away and you shriek a laugh at his efforts, leaving him with nothing but another opening as you twist to run to your room. But you don’t count on another opponent entering the ring: the rug — trundled up the stairs by the man himself, the previous one sacrificed to the God of Foster Cats — still new and curling at the edge.

He must not expect it either. Before you’ve fully turned you’re falling into the couch, catching his arm in a bid to save yourself. He goes down too, landing atop you. Your “Oomph”s mingle together in the suddenly still air. His big body makes it impossible to breathe until he lifts up on his arms and takes stock of the situation. He eyes snag on the box where it’s fallen, the shiny inner box and red packing grass spilled out on the rug. You attempt to wriggle out before he sees. Your legs are firmly pinned between his own. You wait for him to laugh.

“Well that,” he breathes, not a giggle in sight. He settles his eyes on you with a look of hot reproach. “That is not a book.”

He hopes it’s broken. That’s a problem of yours he’d love to have a hand in solving.

(Next)

[vivwritesfics]

Hello love your writing btw. I was wondering if you could write a one shot or blurb about the reader and Daniel Ricciardo (maybe if you're willing Carlos Sainz) just relaxing swaying in the kitchen while they cook dancing and laughing to Sway by Michael Buble while it's dark cold and rainy outside.

Dancing In The Dark - DR3

Have you ever been so in love that your entire lives are intertwined? Like, shared house, shared cooking, shared cleaning, shared playlists?

That's how in love Y/N L/N was with Daniel Ricciardo.

When he wasn't travelling the world, they did everything together.

They cooked together most every night, Y/N preparing vegetables or the meat or whatever went in the dinner while Danny took care of the rice or spaghetti or whatever they might have had in the oven.

They had their music playing as they cooked, their playlist coming out of the speaker system. Danny danced as he waited by the stove or the oven and Y/N shook her body gently as she chopped and prepared.

Taylor Swift was playing, a song that Danny had added to their playlist. Danny stepped away from the oven and walked over to the girlfriend. He took her hand, putting down her knife, and turned her around. Placing her arms around his neck, Daniel swayed from side to side.

With her head on his shoulder, Y/N looked up at him as he moved them. "Danny, I need to keep on with dinner," she said and pulled away from him.

But Danny didn't let her go. He pulled her back in, spun her around and let her go again.

This was a normal occurrence, especially when they were doing any kind of chores. Danny could afford for them to have a maid or a cleaner, but Y/N wouldn't let him. She loved doing chores, music on in the background as Danny cleaned at her side.

Careless Whisper came on the speaker. Danny dropped the feather duster and turned to his girlfriend. "Something in your eyes," he sang, shaking his hips. "Calls to mind a silver screen."

"And its all sad good-byes," Y/N replied. It was pointless trying to resist him. She wasn't dancing though, she was still cleaning the surfaces in the living room.

Danny walked over and put down the surface cleaner and cloth. "I'm never gonna dance again."

"Guilty feet have got no rhythm!" They shouted together.

Careless Whisper wasn't their song, not by any means. But they loved it, it was the perfect song to scream in the middle of their living room in the late evening when they were still cleaning (because Danny had made them stop so many times to dance).

Danny span her. He sent her around once, twice.

At the saxophone, Danny let go of her and shook his hips in time with it.

Date night.

Y/N loved date night. They'd go out to a restaurant or to see a movie or to an arcade or something. Date night always ended with them in the living room, a glass of wine in hand, candles lit and music playing as they sat on the couch.

Sway, the Michael Bublé version, came on over the speakers. As soon as Danny heard it he was up and pulling Y/N up with him. She went willingly, one hand in his and the other on her on his shoulder.

Daniel took the lead, moving them around the living room. He spun her around and pulled her back in. Danny's steps were quick, messy, almost impossible to keep up with. But Y/N managed it, she had done ever since the day they met.

At the chorus, Danny blindly stepped back, pulling Y/N with him. They went stumbling, over the back of the couch. They fell down in a fit of giggles, knocking their red wine over in the process. "Shit, Danny," she said through her giggle. "The rug!"

Their once cream rug was now ruined, a huge whine stain spread across the middle. "That's never coming out."

Daniel let out a laugh and kissed the top of her head. "We'll get a new one tomorrow," Daniel answered, wrapping his arms around her.

Daniel and Y/N loved dancing together. They did it throughout their relationship, right up until they got married. At their wedding, their first dance was to Careless Whisper. They knew their family and friends were judging them, but they didn't much care.

When sway came on, Y/N's friend gave them a knowing look.

They danced through the night, until the early hours of the morning. By the time they were off to their honeymoon, their feet were hurting and they were exhausted. But they were so, so happy.

[leossmoonn]

Hope you’re having a good day! Can I request a blurb of Abby seeing your place for the first time?

yes!!! I hope you’re having a good day as well :D

————

“are we almost done yet?” abby groans as she climbs up what she hopes to be the last flight of stairs.

“one more, honey,” you say. you grab her hand and try to help her as her little legs feel like jello. you turn to mike who is trailing behind you two. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know the elevator would be broken.”

he shakes his head, smiling a little while panting. you can see some beads of sweet form on his upper lip. “i love cardio. in fact, this is right on par with what i do at the gym.”

you giggle as you know he does not have a gym membership and he’s stopped running outside since it’s become so cold. even if he did keep up with exercise, stairs are a different type of workout.

“we are here!” you exclaim at the top of the step. abby jumps up for joy, suddenly re-energized with the excitement of seeing your apartment. you open the door leading to the hallway and the pair follow you halfway down the hall. you type in your apartment’s pin number and open the door, going in and setting your purse down and slipping your shoes off.

abby runs in, skipping through the room.

“abby! behave. we are guests,” mike says. “oh, it’s okay. there’s not anything she can harm,” you say.

there’s a little meow that comes from your bedroom. your head turns and you spot your cat. “except for cornelius, maybe.” you walk over and pick him up, walking him over to abby first. she gasps, her big brown eyes seeming to fill up her whole face. she tentatively puts out her hand, letting your car sniff her. cornelius ducks his head under her hand, rubbing his cheek along her palm.

“he’s so soft!” abby gushes. “he seems to like you,” you grin.

she turns to mike with the biggest pout you think you’ve ever seen from abby. “can we get a cat?”

mike chuckles softly and shakes his head. “i don’t think we can afford one, abs. i’m sorry.”

she frowns and turns to you, scratching cornelius behind the ears. “can i live with you?”

“maybe someday soon, hm?” you take a peek at mike who’s obviously daydreaming about a building a home with you.

“yeah, maybe someday,” he smiles softly. he starts looking around your apartment, taking in everything.

it’s a cute little place that you have. the first thing you see when you come in are two walls, one with a few doors along the side. the first door leads to your bedroom and the second leads to the bathroom. the third one is a small room that contains the washer, dryer, and litter box.

further into the hallway is the living room and kitchen which are connected. the cabinets in your kitchen are all white with marble granite covering the countertops. the kitchen table you have is a little bar with three chairs all lined up seemingly perfectly. you have a few plants on top of each cabinet with a little cactus on the bar counter near the wall it’s connected to. you have family pictures all over your fridge, as well as some with mike and abby.

your living is by far your biggest room. you have a gray couch with a wood coffee table and another wooden table by the far corner of the couch. there’s a plant right in the middle of the coffee table as well with a picture of you and mike. the tv is sitting on top of a dresser that’s filled with all of cornelius’ food and toys and other necessities. there’s a window by the tv and couch, letting a great amount of light in. the wall behind your couch is a navy blue along with your rug.

by the window is a cat tree and a basket of cat toys. there are a few shelves on the wall that are ascending. on them are pictures of your cat, family, and little souvenirs you’ve managed to pick up while traveling.

mike’s been here before, but he’s always amazed at how homely it feels. it doesn’t have that stuffy feeling to it like his house does. it’s not depressing and disappointing to walk into. it’s lively even with just the three of you here standing in silence. it feels exactly like how you make him feel: calm and happy.

“i like your plants,” abby says, inspecting the calathea on your coffee table. “we should get some, mike.”

“it’s a small investment,” you say. “they will probably die in my care,” mike snorts.

“i’ll help,” you offer. he shrugs, “we’ll see.”

“are you guys hungry?” you ask, walking into your kitchen. “not really,” abby answers.

“mike?” you turn to him. “a little, but i can wait until i get home,” mike says.

“nonsense. you guys plan to stay here for a little, right? unless you want to walk down seven flights again.”

“no, please!” abby groans. “that’s what i thought,” you chuckle. “you good with eating some chinese takeout? i have leftovers that will go bad soon.”

“anything you have is fine. thank you,” mike says. “awesome,” you hold your fist up like you won a game. “oh, abs! i wasn’t sure if you wanted to watch anything while you were here, but i bought you some coloring utensils and coloring books as well.” you start to warm up the food in the microwave and go to your bedroom, coming out with a couple of boxes full of coloring supplies and a few books.

“oh, you didn’t have to,” mike sighs. “i wanted to,” you say. he watches with a smile as you sit on the ground with abby and look through the books with her. his heart warms as he knows you love abby like she’s your own blood and flesh.

you and mike are sitting on the couch while abby is laying on her stomach in front of the tv, paying most of her attention to her new coloring book. you managed to convince her to eat an egg roll, which she surprisingly liked, and some fortune cookies.

mike takes your plates once your done eating and begins to wash them. you follow him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his shoulder.

“you didn’t have to,” you say. “you fed us and let us hang out at your place. plus, you got abby some new stuff. It’s the least i could do,” mike says.

you peck his cheek. “you guys are always welcome here. even if I don’t formally invite you, you guys can just show up if you know i’m home.”

“don’t let abby know that. before you know it, she’ll be packing a suitcase and sleeping here.”

“well, there is an apartment upstairs with two bedrooms.”

mike gently sets down the plate in the drying rack. “you don’t have to move just because my little sister wants to live with you.”

“what if i want you guys to live with me?”

his heart skips and his body stiffens under your. “really?” he mumbles. you hum and nod. “whenever you’re ready, just say the word. i love you, mike. and abby. you two are my family away from home.”

mike smiles and turns to place a kiss on your lips. he cups your face, leaning into the warmth of your body. you both hear a thud continued by a small meow. mike feels something furry against his neck and shuffles away, a little startled, only to find out it’s cornelius.

“if we move in, you might have to get rid of him,” mike says.

you gasp with a smile and slap mike’s chest. “that would be like getting rid of abby.”

“yeah, but abby is a human and can talk and feed herself. and use the bathroom without me having to clean it up.”

cornelius meows once again, batting mike’s shoulder. he then lays down on the counter, showing his belly and pushing his head into mike’s arm. you can’t help but awe.

“i think he likes you.”

mike brings a hand up and scratches the side of his face. cornelius starts to purr loudly, rubbing his head further into mike’s hand.

“he’s not so bad,” mike says. “see? you’ll get along perfectly fine,” you smile.

you and mike go back to watching tv for another hour or so before mike tells abby it’s time to go home. abby whines and begs to stay, but you assure her that you’ll see her bright and early tomorrow.

“i love you.” mike hugs you, holding you close and tight like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. you close your eyes as you relax into him, feeling yourself melt against his body. “i love you, too, baby. drive home safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

mike nods, grabbing abby’s hand after you kiss her head goodbye.

“are you sure we can’t get a cat?” abby asks. “i’m sure,” mike says.

“what about a dog?”

“no.”

“a bunny?”

“no.”

“hamster?”

“abby, no.”

“what about a chicken?”

“where would we even get one of those?”

“i want a fox! josie has one in her backyard that visits sometimes.”

mike looks down at abby with a you’re crazy face. she giggles and starts to him to herself. mike sighs, knowing he’s going to have to deal with abby’s questions about pets for the rest of the week. but honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[vervainandspritz]

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warning: smut, angst, comfort

A/N: I'll get back to writing more chapters soon. For now, have this oneshot. Please Interact and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

“Oh god, Jackson!” Y/n gasped as soon as she saw him through the peephole in the door. Moving as quickly as possible, she swung the door open, pouncing forward to get a hold of him.

He stood there, his breathing shallow and rugged. White button up shirt ripped on his shoulder, revealing the bleeding wound. The material surrounding it was covered in crimson red. His hair sweaty, beads dripping down his face as he barely kept his blue, cloudy eyes open.

“Y/n” he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward as he grabbed onto her shoulders. She huffed as he put his weight on her, and with some struggle they managed to both get inside as she kicked the door shut.

Hundreds and thousands of thoughts ran through her head as she helped him to the living room where he mindlessly slumped on the couch.

“Wait here” she murmured, rushing to the bathroom for the first aid kit that was quite… advanced ever since she met him. Grabbing the necessities, Y/n quickly moved back to the living room, putting it all on the table with her shaky hands. He looked barely conscious and her heart was pounding like crazy as she took his shirt off to make sure that the visible injuries were the only ones on him.

He kept mumbling something every now and then but she didn't listen, instead she focused on stopping the bleeding from his shoulder and stitching him back up.

Breathing deeply, Y/n tried her best to get her hands more steady as she did her very best to ensure he'd be… better than whatever state she found him in.

Two hours and some tears later, Jackson was settled in her own bed, wearing only briefs and breathing heavily. She wiped her face while glancing at the clock only then realising how late it was. Jackson was completely out of it, and from the look of it, he would be for several more hours because of the medicine she gave him. The medicine he needed to ensure his wound wouldn't get infected.

Y/n was aware of his job, and it was one of the biggest factors of why she decided to never let their relationship move forward. Just sex, they said before. She couldn't afford getting her heart broken.

His lips said one thing, and his actions showed another, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she hugged his back lightly, her cheek pressing to his hot skin. Only for now, it was safe to do so. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a fuss about it. The closeness with lack of any sexual intentions. Intimacy. Comfort.

As expected, Jackson slept for a long time before eventually waking up, a little past 7 PM the next day.

She managed to clean up her bathroom and couch from his blood, getting her apartment to become squeaky clean because of the anxiety she was feeling. Y/n tried to be productive instead of impatiently waiting at him and biting her nails.

“Y/n” He said in a hoarse, husky voice before grimacing slightly because of the dryness and pain in his throat. Hearing him, she jumped a little, clearly startled as her book fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” Y/n said, with a hand on her chest as she eyed him quickly before getting up to get a glass of water for him, hearing the state of his throat. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly after handing him the glass. Her brows slightly furrowed at his unusually pale skin.

“As wonderful as I look” He replied with a scoff after drinking the water and setting the glass aside with a groan.

“You were really hurt this time.” She started quietly, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment as she kept looking at him. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours, Jackson. You—you need to tell me what happened.” She says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration grew. She knew how unhappy he was whenever she'd ask questions, and Y/n liked his presence too much to risk losing him over that. So she wouldn't ask, not usually, but this time was different. It was too big to pretend like it didn't happen.

His pale, blue eyes avoided looking directly into hers as he let out a deep breath. His frame was tense.

“Don't act stupid, you know damn well what I do for a living, sweetheart.” He replied. “It's not always all rainbows and flowers.” The sarcasm smoothly made its way down his tongue, as always, seemed like. Y/n got used to the fact Jackson was fluent in this particular thing.

Hearing his tone her body tensed in a combative manner. Squeezing her first, she pointed at him with the other, shaking hand.

“Don't you fucking dare talk to me this way after I spent my whole night stitching you up, preventing you from bleeding out, and barely closing my eyes to make sure you were bloody alive!” Her voice shook slightly every now and then as she tried to stand her ground against him. “It's YOUR work to do… all that, but is it my work to always stitch you up afterwards? Why the hell do you come here since I don't deserve even a brief explanation?” She demanded to know, looking intently at him as she wrapped her arms around herself for some, much needed at the moment, comfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly, raising his chin as he finally looked her in the eyes. His facial expression was impossible to read, as always.

But the one thing she was perfect at, was reading his eyes. Ever since day one, Jackson would always try to avoid eye contact in such situations. Even though his stare never failed before, and he was going through life thinking he mastered it.

Well, maybe he did. Y/n was the only one who saw more in his bright, storm and tempest filled eyes. So he'd purposely put a wall between the two of them. She knew him too well to believe in the theatrics he was so prone to use on people.

“Your apartment was the closest place I could think of at the moment. It's not that deep.” His voice was low and emotionless, husky from the lack of usage in the last twenty four hours but he managed to keep up the eye contact for just a few seconds before looking away.

Yet, it hurt her. Sighing deeply, she shook her head and made her way to the kitchen as Jackson slowly got up from her bed.

Looking around for his pants, he ran a hand through his hair with a groan. The one thing he could admit to himself was that seeing disappointment in her eyes wasn't… nice. It didn't feel good.

“So… when can I see you now?” He asked casually, trying to break the tension after a couple minutes, thinking that she just gave up asking him questions like always, after he'd shut her down.

The silence hung in the air for a longer moment, charged with unsaid words and buzzing emotions. Y/n was tired, visibly and mentally.

“Don't come here anymore, Jack. I can't do it.”

A quiet voice came from the kitchen, making his heart stop for a moment and his eyes to widen. Turning around he walked up to her, leaning on the counter.

“Come on, you're not mad at me, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not understanding the vulnerable expressions on her face, which she never hid. Y/n wasn't scared to be vulnerable with her feelings around him, which was always a source of conflicted emotions within himself.

With a resigned sigh, she put the knife and veggies down, looking up at him.

“No, it's… it's more than that. I just can't do what you're expecting of me.” She started, shaking her head a little. “Just—just fuck you, and then, then take care of you and never care enough to ask. I can't do that. It's—it's not me, I'm sorry.” The way her body language changed, the vulnerability and raw hurt in her voice made the annoyingly painful feeling gnaw at this one spot in his chest. He didn't know what to say for a moment before turning around and walking a couple steps through her living room. Anger and confusion grew in his head, as the only real emotions he knew so well. Hand tugging on his hair as he let out a humourless laugh.

“You don't mean it. We're just—just arguing again.” He said, trying to convince either her or himself, but the feeling of dread already settled between his ribs. His voice came out louder than intended, accusing even.

As the response didn't come, he turned around again facing her. Taking a couple fast steps he winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? We talked about it before, I— fucking can't tell you anything!” He said with sharp anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Jackson, I said I get it! I just can't do what you want me to!” She exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usually at his sudden outburst. She felt panicked with what was happening. With the idea of never seeing him again, and with what she was feeling at the moment. The feelings accompanying her were much more complex than she'd like them to be.

“Then why are you so fucking dramatic about it!” He continued pacing back and forth, not handling the situation very well, or picking up on the irony of his words.

Y/n raised her eyebrows with a scoff.

“Me? I'm just breaking it off, Jackson. You are the one yelling at me and running around my living room.” She pointed out, keeping the pain hidden away. For now.

He stopped in his tracks immediately as she called him out on the frantic behaviour.

“I wouldn't if you weren't like… this!” He spat out, his blue eyes filled with coldness and anger. The sudden motion as he swung his arm, caused the stitches to rip and blood started dripping down his arm. “Fuck!”

Y/n’s eyes widened immediately.

“Jack, calm down! Your arm!” She squealed, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her hand grasped his bigger one as she pulled him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was a fairly small room, with not much space after he'd fill it out with his wide frame, so without a second thought she slumped on his lap.

He sat here wordlessly, the combative facial expression still decorating his handsome face as she worked on the wound, cleansing it before getting to the stitching.

He didn't make a sound until the last stitch, when he suddenly let out a loud hiss at the particularly painful movement of the needle in his skin.

“Sorry” she said quietly out of habit. “You need to stop thrashing like a wild animal for the next few days.” Y/n added, concerned with his state.

Jackson scoffed, tensing as he looked in her eyes accusingly.

“Don't tell me what to do. You dumped me.” His voice was low and grumbly, still carrying some anger in it, but the way he put it made Y/n let out a giggle uncontrollably. His gaze softened slightly. He sounded like an offended child.

“As far as I know, we weren't together, Jackson.” Her voice was more playful than anything as she finished the stitching, putting the tools aside. Caressing the skin on his arm, Y/n sighed.

Jackson kept looking at her with a lump forming in his throat. After a minute he broke the silence.

“I don't know what you want me to say, but you won’t hear…” He started before clearing his throat, unsure of what words to use. Of how to explain.”—hear THAT from me, Y/n. I just can't.” He said quietly, his hands holding her hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on her soft skin. The silence settled in the air again, as she felt he wasn't finished just yet. Just needed some more time to recollect his words. “...but I don't want to not see you anymore.” He sounded weaker than ever, more… vulnerable. The trait she wanted to see in him so badly, making her heart soften in an instant.

Feeling the surge of hope rushing through her veins, she raised her hands to his face, tilting his head up so her eyes would meet his. Her eyes were– bright again, Jackson noticed subconsciously.

“You don't want to lose me.” She stated with confidence, knowing what he meant. Jackson neither denied nor confirmed, sighing deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it.” She demanded, caressing his skin and as soon as he looked again, searching his blue eyes for anything that would show her she was wrong. She didn't find anything.

He took a deep breath, his fingers digging into her skin harder.

“I don't want to lose you.” He repeated, sounding like the words almost drowned him, but he knew it was a turning point. Jack knew she was – patient and understanding. It would be enough. They stared at each other for a longer moment before she touched his cheek with a little chuckle.

Seeing her eyes so shiny and cheeks blushed, Jackson regretted he didn't say it sooner. It took a lot, but it was worth it. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What's so funny?” He scoffed playfully, looking at her lips with a deep breath.

Y/n leaned in, kissing him in a way that took his breath away for a mere moment making him forget who they were. Who he was. A way that she wouldn't dare to kiss him before.

“Stubborn man” she let out with a sigh after pulling away.

Only then did she get up, pulling him back to the bedroom deciding that she'd force him to rest if he wouldn't agree right away.

***

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/n wiped her face with a yawn before she noticed he was awake. The admirably blue eyes looked at her halfway open with a smirk, and for a second she got mad at him for never staying the whole night before. The view was wonderful.

“Hi” She said with a chuckle, making him raise his eyebrow in amusement.

“Hi,” He replied, pulling her closer. Her dishevelled state made her even more attractive than usual, in a completely different way. It was a way that Jackson never looked at other women before which was a little scary, but well. He was way too sleepy to think about it now. With his own eyes barely open and vulnerable as never before, he let out a chuckle. It felt so easy at the moment, like he wasn't a killer without any actual identity. Like he had a chance for a life with the beautiful woman by his side.

Stretching with a groan he shifted to the side, being fairly careful with his injured shoulder. Jackson's hand landed on Y/n’s bare hip as her shirt shifted up, revealing her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, glancing at him as she heard the throaty purr coming from his mouth.

“Jackson” She warned with a giggle, knowing his intentions too well. “You're–” She started, but before she'd manage to finish, he flipped her on her back, hanging over her like a thundercloud. “–injured.” Her voice was defeated with an undertone of humour at his mischievous doings.

“Still healthy enough.” He replied, leaning down and grazing his nose over her neck. After two years of seeing only her, he wasn't able to prevent associating her scent with something– familiar.

Home

Pressed so tightly against her, Jackson felt the familiar stirring in his lower stomach, making him sigh deeply. His warm breath wrapped itself around her skin, making her shiver with delight. He leaned down, biting onto her neck lightly as his hands began stripping her of the pajama pants she was wearing.

She let it happen, until she didn't. Her smaller hand getting a hold of his wrist.

“In my way.” She said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “My way or not at all. Your stitches will probably burst again if I agree to do it the usual way.” She said with a voice that allowed no opposition. That was a voice he rarely heard, but the feisty look in her eyes was clear. She wouldn't bend under his will because she cared about his health.

With a loud, dramatic sigh he slumped on the bed, giving up. Seeing it, Y/n chuckled, raising her brows. Pointing at the tent in his underwear, she asked.

“So you need help with that or not?” Her voice was full of amusement and clear lighthearted mockery. Jackson's eyes immediately shifted to her face.

“Don't push it before I change my mind” he grumbled with a hidden smirk, making her laugh out louder as she got up, pulling her underwear down all the way before she straddled his hips.

Her soft hand began travelling down his chest, tracing every inch of his skin, appreciating the masculine firmness to him. The sensation of his muscles against her delicate fingers.

The air in the room immediately shifted, and Jackson's expression changed. His brows slightly furrowed, as he watched her actions. He was clearly confused, never touched with such intention before in his life. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, almost expecting pain to come any second now.

Violence was all he knew. She understood it, but it nevertheless broke her heart a little bit.

Looking him in the eyes, she leaned forward, her lips following the path her fingers travelled. She left little kisses on each scar and imperfection she encountered.

Jackson wasn't sure what he felt. Whether he liked it or not, he was more confused than ever before. That's why when she reached the V on his lower stomach, still kissing, he rose up slightly.

“Don't” he said quietly. The atmosphere was so intimate and vulnerable, that for once in his life, he didn't feel up to being pleasured in such a way. He already let her do too much, Jackson thought.

Y/n looked up, meeting his bright eyes with her own. The tension and– fear on his face was visible for the first time since she ever met him.

Nodding lightly, she came back up, kissing him passionately as her hands worked on his underwear, pulling it down and stroking his hard length. Deep groans pushed past his lips with each move as his eyes fell shut. He looked more beautiful than ever, Y/n thought seeing him then.

Only the sensation of her warmth engulfing his manhood brought Jackson back, making him open his eyes and letting his jaw fall open.

“Fuck” he gasped, as she leaned back, supporting herself by holding onto his stomach, not forgetting about his injury.

His hands gripped onto her hips. Still sitting up, Jackson tried moving her on top of his hips to get her to move faster, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. Pushing him back, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss while she sensually moved. She was in no rush. Y/n enjoyed every sensation the connection between them was giving her. The slow pace was making him more sensitive to their surroundings than the usual frantic rhythm. The sound of her quiet sighs and whimpers filled his ears like the most beautiful melody. The way her face gave away the all-consuming bliss she experienced from how he felt inside her, but also from how… close they were. Jackson felt like he was slipping. The situation was getting out of control as his mind started spiralling into the vulnerability, which he desperately didn't want to happen.

Looking up, he noticed Y/n watching his face intently, her mouth slightly open as she moved to her own rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement before she leaned down, kissing all over his neck while her hands travelled around his collarbones, caressing his skin.

Wordlessly Jackson's bigger hand slowly grabbed hers, moving it up towards his throat, wrapping it suggestively with a certain look in his eyes. Y/n knew.

Of course she did.

With a quiet sigh, she shook her head lightly, moving upwards to his cheek, the gentle touch sending shockwaves down his spine as she watched him with care and gentleness he never experienced.

Covering her hand with his own, Jackson sat up lightly, moving her closer. He didn't fight it anymore.

“You're so beautiful” He breathed out, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her lips in a deep, sensual dance as she caressed his hair. They both seemed to get lost in the sensations, drowning in each other's presence without any will or need to seek saving.

As Y/n squeezed her eyes, her body tensing on top of his, Jackson knew she was coming. Leaning his forehead on her collarbone, he followed right after. For the first time in his life, he realised that the way she held him felt even better than the most amazing orgasm he ever experienced.

…and just like that, Jackson knew he’d stay the night, and countless more.

Because even if he couldn't name or say it, he knew the reason why he would keep coming back.

***

Taglist: @lau219 @xsweetcatastrophe

[evanpeterspeter]

AN: This is my first fic on here. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for anything. Thx!

TW: unprotected p in v, weed/smoking, self pleasuring,cuss words and all that good stuff

Wc: 3k

———————————————————————————

Warren Lipka, Spencer Reinhard and you are all roommates, living in a small beat up apartment in St. Louise Missouri.

You guys attended a university near by. You've never been fond of your roommates, but the only reason why you live together is because you and Spencer were childhood best friends, your mom and his always wanted you guys together since forever, but you always found him to be like a brother, more than a partner, and that you couldn't afford to live by yourself. Warren came into the picture because that was, Spencers friend, and that he felt pressured into housing him when his mom kicked him out for smoking too much weed, and not having a job. Warren has a small little set up of a "room" in the small compact living room, that was the size of an actual bedroom. His so called bed, was a rugged 80's couch that was a hand down from my mother.

It was a cold winter evening, you drove home from class in your beater car. It Was a cold drive home because the A/C was no longer functional. After an agonizing ride home came to an end, you park on the side of the road of where your apartment complex was at then you head out the car, grabbing your belongings with you. You arrive at the door shuffling though your messy backpack. You become frustrated looking for the keys to your apartment. You never found the time to place them in your key ring attached to your car keys. 

"Fuck!" You said while you continuously scramble through your bag. You groan and knock on the door.

You wait to hear any response. You knock again, becoming more eager to come in from the blistering cold. "Hey! Warren I know you're inside! Let me in!" You shout while knocking in between your pleas. You hear footsteps coming your way though the other side.

"What's the password." You heard a familiar annoying tone, muffled behind the door.

You groan an roll your eyes, stomping your foot. "Warren, open the fucking door! I'm freezing my ass off!" You say knocking harder. The door swings open, You jump back slightly startled with the sudden door swing.   You see, Warren with a blunt in between his soft pink lips, no shirt and just gray sweatpants on.

"That wasn't the password." He said, grabbing the roll and taking it off of his lips.

"Warren, let me in. I'm fucking freezing my tits off."

"Yeah?" He said looking down at you hugging your breasts together to warm yourself, unfortunately forming a strong cleavage line. You look down, blushing. You groan and push though him to enter your way in. "No thank you?"

"Leave me alone, Warren. You're being annoying." You said plopping your bag in the hallway, by the door. You walk to the counter and spot your house keys sitting where you usually put it. You let out a dramatic groan seeing them and then snatching them  into your cold hands.

"Oh yeah by the way, you forgot your keys." Warren said teasingly, while he sat down on the couch with a lighter in his other free hand, flicking the track to light up the blunt between his lips.

You walk over and smack the back of his head. "Thanks for telling me fuck face"

He looks at you and takes a puff of his lit roll, while rubbing the back for his now tender head.  "You're welcome, Princess."

You rolled your eyes at the comment but also feeling a slight fight of butterflies set off in your core from the name. You grunt annoyed with him and you storm into your room, slamming the door behind you. 

You throw yourself onto the bed, starring at the ceiling. You hear a knock on the door. "Come in." the door opens and a familiar face pops in. "H-hey Y/n." Spencer comes in, gently closing the door behind himself. "So how was class?" He said sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. "It was alight i guess... i forgot my keys and your piece of shit friend was basically gonna kill me by leaving me out in the cold." You said with a snicker. He smiles and lets out a small laugh. "Yeah he's the one to do that." Spencer rubs the back of his neck looking down. "Y-Y/N.. i just wanted to let you know I'm gonna leave out of town tomorrow and wont be back till a week.. So that means you're going to be stuck with Warren-.. And i know you aren't the worlds biggest fan of hi-.." you shot up from the bed. "WHAT?! No way are you leaving me here with that dipshit!"

Spencer shushes you. "Please Y/N.. i know you don't care for him, but I can't take him with me."

You groan. "Well it wouldn't even be an issue if he didn't fucking live here!" You shouted.

"Y/N I'm sorry, I really am. I honestly felt bad for him." He sighed and stood up from the bed. "Look..ill talk to him one of these days okay?.." he walks towards the door, opening it up half way and stoping i his tracks. "Good night Y/N.."

He closed the door behind him.

'I can't believe I'm spending my winter break with this dickwad.' You thought to yourself.  You kick off your shoes on the side of the bed and you curl up in a ball under the sheets, closing your eyes wanting the day just to be over with.

~

You shift in bed, hiding under the soft sheets you fell asleep with. You hear the door creak making you slightly annoyed. All of a sudden you feel the sheets immediately be ripped of you. You gasp and turned around, seeing it was your piss ass roommate, Warren. He had a cheeky grin holding the blanket tossed over his shoulder, seeing he was still shirtless, with the slight sheen of the sun peering though the jagged blinds, shedding light on his soft toned body. "Hey whore, i need to borrow the car. Spencer took the car so i need to use yours." He said.

Something in you just went off and you shot up onto your feet and stood in front of him. "Listen here you punk!" You poke his chest. "You will not boss me around or make a fool of me! You hear me?!" You said still poking him and standing on the tips of your toes. He smirks and drops your blanket on the floor, putting his hands in the air defensively. "Okay." Warren said, turning around and leaving your room, without closing the door. You stand there feeling stupid and you cross your arms and scoffed. "Fuck you too." You mumbled under your breath.

You sigh and throw your blanket back on the bed. You gather your things and head to the shower.

After your well needed shower, you head to your bedroom and rummage though your drawers to find a clean tee. You found your oversized Pink Floyd prism tee shirt. You pair it up with some small black lace up panties and some shorts to cover them.

Once you were finished with all your self care, you went to the living room to find your blockhead of a roommate smoking out of your bong. You walk up to him, shoving him off of it, sending him to a coughing fit. You sit in his warm spot he was once in, pulling the lighter from his hands, you light it up to the glass. You take a big rip off of it, letting out a big O ring of smoke to his face. He waves his hand though the blown ring, fanning its shape into just smoke, he finishes his coughing fit. "What the fuck Y/N?" He lets off another cough then to clear his throat after. "You took my fucking bong, Dipshit. So i get dibs."

You said lighting it up again. He gives a smirk. "You know if you would've been a good girl and said please, then maybe I would've let you take a hit," he said while moving the hair away from your face while you take a hit from the bong. You couldn't help but blush deeply at what he said and the act of him moving your damp hair. "After all, its my bud."  He said with a smug smirk.

You sit back and look over at him, he leans forward and scoots the bong his way about to recreate what you did. "So..why did you need my car, asshole?" You said looking over at him. He pulls away from the glass wand. He lets out some rings and leans back, staring up at the ceiling. "To pick up a girl." He said. You couldn't help but to smack him on the shoulder.  "Ow!" He said chuckling. "I'm just kidding short stuff, I wanted to get some milk for my Coco Pebbles." You roll your eyes and slide the glass your way. "Whatever, I'm not letting you touch my car, let alone my bong." You said but then realizing that your lips had been touching where his was and it gave you a jolt in your core, also giving you butterflies in your stomach.

You feel yourself become more hazy from the cannabis. You look over at Warren as he's focused on playing a game on the TV. You start to admire the way his soft brown honey hair lays perfectly on his structured face. The way he bites his lip when he's concentrating, the light stubble on his face, and oh the way he looks into your eyes..oh shit he's looking into your eyes. "Hellooooo." He said waving his hand in front of your face. You snap out of it. "You were staring at me, weirdo." Warren said with a soft chuckle. You instantly turn red all over. You stand up from the couch with a slight wobble. "I-I'm.. I'm gonna go back to my room." You said heading back to your room and slamming the door.

You felt so embarrassed, but so turned on. Smoking always made you feel full of lust and horny. You sit on the side if your bed with your knees pried together, looking down biting the inside of your cheek drawing shapes on your thighs with your fingers, contemplating if you wanted to play with yourself. It almost felt wrong but.. felt so right. You grabbed your floral pattern vibrator from the side table beside your bed. You click it on letting it buzz in the air before moving it to your core.

You shimmy out of your shorts but still left for panties on. You press the buzzing sensation against your cute bunch of nerves, tossing your head back, you let out some soft moans. One hand is on your side gripping onto the sheets, knees spread apart from each other and your mouth agape. You lightly start grinding against vibrator, letting small mewls fill the room. The thought of Warren slipped into your brain. You scrunch your face together feeling guilty, but thinking of him felt so good, It makes you core drip more for him. "F-fuck..Warren.." you whispered. Or.. at least you thought you did

"Yes?"  You heard peering out your door. You launch forward and instantly throw the blanket over your lower body, still the vibrator buzzing away. "WARREN!" You shouted in fear. "I heard some noises and my name, so i thought maybe you were in trouble or something." He said with a shit eating grin, leaning against the door frame. You scatter to turn off the vibrator, looking flustered you turn to face his way with tears welling up in your eyes. He tilts his head and walks slowly by your bedside. "Y/n... are you crying?" He sat at the side of your bed placing his big warm hand on your covered knee. You cover your face to hide away the embarrassment and the tears drowning out your face. "Hey.." Warren leans forward towards you, prying your hands away from your face, reviling you soft flushed cheeks that was dowsed in sour tears. He looked into your hopeless eyes, using the pads of this thumbs to wipe away your tears. His selfless service made your lip quiver and sniffle more, feeling the stinging sensation of heavy tears coming down. You hiccup between cries hugging your knees to your chest. "It's okay beautiful... I'm not upset." Warren said pulling you into his arms and you lay against his chest, listening to his heart thump you found your heart beating fast at the name he called you. He caresses your soft shoulder and positions you sitting sideways on his lap, with his big warm hand resting on your thigh and his other hand on your lower back. He looked into your eyes with his dark chocolate colored eyes, with a soft gleam to his face he looks you up and down. You hide your face into the crook of his neck while tossing your arms slumped over his shoulders. He rubs your lower back making his way to under your shirt, caressing mindless shapes.

"I'm s-such a fucking loser." You cried softly. "No your not, princess. You were just needy..."

You feel butterflies bubble in your stomach and your lower core. "You know i can fix that."

He moves his hand higher to my upper thigh. You let out a shuttered breath, grabbing the back of his hair and gently squeezing your hands into a light fist. You hear his breath hitch. "Would you like for me to help you?" He said rubbing his thumb against the hem of your panties. You feel your core aching and wet, you squeeze your thighs together to calm down the waves of neediness between your thighs. He moves his left hand from your thigh and moved it to your head that is still over his shoulder,he grabs your chin and guides you to face him. "Princess? Did you hear me?" He said lightly dragging his thumb on the bottom of your lip. He looks you up and down and leans into your lips with his. Your lips meet his and he gives gentle and soft kisses against your plump pink lips. You let out a soft whimper putting your hand against his chest. He pulls away with a smirk and rubs your thigh. "Well?" He said. You bite your lip, thinking about it, even though you knew you wanted him so bad. You nod your head, looking him up and down. Warren shakes his head making a clicking his tongue to a tisk sound. "You need to use your words." He said with a soft smirk curled onto his lips. "I-i need you warren.. So bad.." you said turning red in the face. "Good girl." He said in a velvety tone, with a huge grin plastered upon his face.

He flips you into the bed with your back touching the soft sheets, he hovers over your fragile body, his arms by both side of your shoulders , he leans down to nibble on your neck, leaving a soft trail of peppered kisses. You let out an airy whine, feeling your cunt dripping in ecstasy. He removes your shirt then leaving soft kisses down to your chest taking one of your perky nipples into his warm soft mouth, he licks it to a swirling motion then suckles on it gently. He looks up at you with his devious pleading eyes, letting out a vibrant moan.

He pulls of with a pop sound after it, wrapping both on his index fingers to a hook to pull down your lacey black panties. You lift your bum to help remove the soaked piece of fabric. He smirks at you holding the clump of drenched cloth in his hand. "Were you this wet for me?" He said so teasingly. You feel your cheeks tingle and turn red, like you already weren't red enough. "U-uhm.. maybe?"

He lets out a gentle chuckle and shakes his head, dropping the panties to the ground. Kneeling onto the carpeted floor, he props your legs up over his shoulders, he kisses along your thighs closer to the center. He swipes his finger from the entrance of your weeping cunt to the glorious bundle of nerves. "So wet." He leans forward and licks a stripe up with the flat of his tongue, flicking your clit. You arch your back in pleasure letting out a dirty moan. He suckled on your button and he put a finger inside of your entrance, soon entering another finger. He curls his fingers up against your silk walls. Your legs jolt and shake in sensation, craving for more than his fingers. The pace fastens, making you feel a tight knot in the core of your center. "Warren..fuck.."

He pulls his mouth away from your swollen bud, he licks him lips and smiles. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He stands up hovering over you, he leans over your ear. "You want me don't you?" You could hear the shit eating grin in his tone. He nibbles on your ear waiting for an answer. "Warren.. please.. i need you in me." You said nearly out of breath.

"Done.." he said pulling away.

He pulls his grey sweats down, pooling around his ankles, he steps over them. Then pulling off his boxers. His member springs up from the weight of his boxers being pulled off, reliving the ache of being withheld. You widened your eyes to see he was huge and Girthy. 'He has to be over 7 inches' you said to yourself in utter shock. He grabs your legs and holds them up and under his arms. He rubs his tip against your bud, you let out a whimper in eager for him. He smirks and lines his cock up with your entrance, he slowly presses into you. You winced in pain, feeling how thick and full it was filling you in, your toes curl and you ball your fists with the sheets in your grasp. "F-fuck!" You said holding your breath feeling every inch fill you. "Breath, baby." Warren said with a velvety tone. You let air out though your mouth and as you did, Warren slammed the rest into you making you gasp audibly. Once he was bottomed out he starts to gently thrust in and out. He grabs your ankles and pulls them up more, leaning against each thrust. As he thrusts he's mesmerized with how your tits bounce with each movement. He places his thumb against your clit and circles it in rotation. Your head is tossed back, mouth agape and eyes rolled back.

It all hit so quickly, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten and that friction come to a huge wave that's about to wash over you. "Warren.. i-I'm gonna cum." He picks up his pace and continues to stimulate your sensitive little bundle.

You let out a corny porn star moan while cumming hard on his cock, not long after your release you feel his white thick ropes fill you up in the inside. You see his head tossed back, making cheap and non rhythmic thrusts to ride out his high.

"F-fuck.. your pussy is so good." Warren said leaning forward, beads of sweat roll of his forehead down to his rosy red face,his long curly hair sticking to his framed face. Out of breath, he pulls out with a string of cum pulling away from inside you. You feel the cold air hit your beaten, swollen cunt. Warren crashes right next to you on the bed.

You look at each other and smile deeply. He moves your hair from your face to behind your ear. "You're so hot.." he said looking at your eyes then lips. You smile pulling him into a deep kiss. You look into each other's eyes then to turn around to your night stand, grabbing your car keys and turned back around, plopping it on his bare chest. "Go get some milk.. i want some Coco pebbles too."

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Tag list: @evansonlylove

[youunravelme]

murphy's law sneak peek

author's note: this is just a look into what i've been working on the past few months (again, my b for being the most inconsistent writer ever). please let me know your thoughts! i'm hoping to finish this up VERY soon!! so here are the first two and a half pages of this fic! :))))))

mat barzal x beau's step-sister!reader (bc i'm not white and wanted to leave the reader racially neutral.)

summary:nothing good could come from sleeping with your (step) brother's best friend.

when anthony was traded to vancouver, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from under you. he was your rock since you were twelve when your mom and his dad got married. he was there when you finished your undergrad, and offered up the spare room in his apartment when you started your master's degree at columbia.

but with his new job back in your home country, you knew there was no way you could afford to stay in his apartment. after all, you were nowhere close to making the millions of dollars he did.

"don't worry about it," he said. "i have it taken care of."

what he didn't say was that the solution was staying in mat's extra room.

it wouldn't be that big of a deal, you knew mat just from the sheer amount of time he and anthony spent together. if it wasn't seeing him at games, it was out at bars, or in your shared apartment when you got home from class.

but despite all the interactions you had, almost none of them were meaningful. everything you knew about him started and ended with your connection to tito. and neither of you cared to remedy that.

it didn't mean you two were hostile, didn't even mean that you didn't like each other. it just meant that when tito wasn't around, you two didn't talk.

until you started living together.

the t-shirt incident

it wasn't intentional, you'd swear up and down that it wasn't. you recalled mat's text that he would be out that night and not to wait up for him (not that you ever did, but the sentiment was clearly communicated: stay out of the common areas).

you weren't even doing anything special that night, your boyfriend was out of town on a work trip and you hadn't met friends outside of the islander wags just yet (all of whom were busy that night). so you treated yourself to a shower and a face mask. you'd just finished washing it off when you heard the front door close.

truthfully, you almost stayed in your room until you realized your water cup was empty, and you might've let it go if it wasn't for the past few nights where you woke up craving a sip of water. but you'd like to think you were a considerate roommate, so you waited five minutes for mat to go to his room before you planned on going into the kitchen.

you didn't realize your mistake until you walked into the living room and caught mat and a girl, both shirtless.

to be honest, you weren't sure who screamed first, if it was you or the other girl. you managed to see her lunge for her shirt right as you covered your eyes with one hand and dropped your cup on the floor.

"oh my god," was all you could say.

but the other girl clearly wasn't rendered speechless like you were because she yelled "you didn't say you had a girlfriend, asshole!" before slamming the front door behind her.

you didn't move, couldn't move, too mortified to even acknowledge what you'd just interrupted. very slowly, like he couldn't see you, you bent down and fumbled around with one hand, blindly searching for the cup.

the couch creaked, followed by a heavy sigh from mat. "you can look, you know? nothing you probably haven't seen before."

you peeked between your fingers and saw mat pulling his shirt back on. you dropped your hand and stood up straight almost as soon as he was fully clothed.

cue the apology tour.

"oh my god, mat, i am so sorry! i totally wasn't thinking, i thought you were in your room by this point and i needed water. i didn't even think about what it would look like to your lady friend, if you'd like i can try to catch her before she gets in a cab and explain the situation?"

mat blinked at you. "lady friend?" he asked.

you shrugged. "well, she's a lady, and a friend."

he let out a dry laugh, though his lips didn't curl up in a smile. maybe it was more of a scoff? "friend is a bit of an overstatement. i don't even remember her name."

the room went silent before you caught mat staring at your chest. you glanced down and the urge to dig a hole and die in it crossed your mind.

the seattle thunderbirds logo was staring you in the face.

"oh god, our laundry must've gotten mixed up i'm sorry--"

"i was wondering where that shirt went."

you grabbed the bottom of the shirt before you remembered stripping in front of your new roommate was probably not the best thing to do.

"i can rewash it for you."

he nodded, but otherwise didn't offer anymore commentary.

so you scooped up the cup from the floor and sheepishly sidestepped your way into the kitchen.

and even though it took approximately four seconds to pour yourself a glass of water, you hid in the kitchen until you heard the telltale click of mat's bedroom door.

part of you thought it was best to stay out of his way the next morning, to let mat meander throughout the apartment before he went to his morning skate.

but then you thought about your childhood, and how you pissed anthony and francis off when you were fourteen so you baked them cookies after school and magically, everything was okay between the three of you by the end of the day.

so you woke up earlier than you normally would've to make mat breakfast. you'd made anthony breakfast before, surely mat's diet was about the same?

the eggs were nearly done when you heard his door open. it was only a matter of time before he joined you in the kitchen. you had his protein shaker bottle sitting on the island next to the plate of bacon you'd made. the toast had just popped out of the toaster.

"morning," mat said when he walked into the kitchen.

you whipped your head around to smile at him before focusing on the eggs in front of you. "hope you're hungry," you said. "i made breakfast."

you pulled the pan off the burner and placed them on a potholder. "wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, anthony likes his scrambled, so i just made them scrambled, hope that's okay."

he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you before helping himself to the meal you made and fixing his protein shake. you waited until he'd helped himself to the food and took a seat at the island before you said anything, just staring at his profile until he took a bite of the toast.

"i really am sorry about last night," you started. "it wasn't on purpose, i promise." you cleared your throat and made yourself busy by fixing your plate. "next time, i'll just go stay at someone else's place."

mat snorted into his protein shake. a sly smirk was on his lips when he pulled the drink away.

"what?" you asked, looking straight at him.

mat shook his head. "if you left every time i brought a girl over, you'd never be home."

you flushed and directed your eyes back to your plate. "oh."

you couldn't see mat run a hand down his face, but you could hear him sigh. "look," he said and you picked your head up to look into his eyes. "it's just going to be an adjustment. i'll make sure to text you when i'm coming home with a girl and i'll take her to my room as quickly as possible."

"and i'll make myself scarce until the morning."

mat shrugged. "i mean, you live here too, i'm not asking you to be holed up in your room, just maybe don't make an appearance in my shirt until i've at least told the girl about you?"

you nodded almost immediately. "i can do that. i swear, after today, i won't be a problem anymore! you can have literally all the girls over and you won't even know i'm here!"

if only that were true.

[lilystyles]

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings. 

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day. 

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office. 

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work. 

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season. 

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose. 

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!” 

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily. 

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food. 

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face. 

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo. 

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think. 

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh. 

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets. 

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat. 

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm. 

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more. 

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth. 

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently. 

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in. 

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye. 

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh. 

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be? 

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out. 

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes. 

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t. 

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate. 

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.” 

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on. 

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called. 

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her. 

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face. 

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him. 

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head. 

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off. 

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend. 

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall. 

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop. 

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off. 

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car. 

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled. 

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you Make it | Part 21

Eddie wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. Yes. He lived in a trailer park. But he wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. He had money, he made bank on being weird for the women of Hawkins, he’d made an easy quick buck dealing back in his high school years, and he had many marketable skills that could get him some kind of menial labour kind of job.

Barback, auto repair, retail, manual labour, and of course, music among the few.

So he was never really poor enough to see moths fly from his wallet in place of cash, never poor enough to miss meals on purpose to save money, or to worry about where his next meal was going to come from while hunger gnawed at his gut.

But being able to just. Walk through a supermarket, without having to look at the price of things before putting them into the cart?

That was a level of financial security that he’d not yet attained, and yet there he was. After being given a second cart for himself, and being assured that he could get anything he thought he and Steve might want while John would grab things for himself and Lynda in his own cart, he was set loose with the simple instruction to meet at the checkouts, John would wait for him if he ended up there first and vice versa.

Eddie didn’t think he’d be finishing first though. There were options. He had options. He didn’t have to look at prices, he didn’t have to grab the cheapest things on the shelf, or look for things reduced in price cause they were about to expire.

He didn’t even have to do mental mathematics for taxes because it didn’t matter!

The only thing he had to worry about, the only thing that made Eddie completely certain in the fact that he’d be making John wait for him at the checkouts, was figuring out what Steve might want to eat without making it way too obvious that he didn’t actually know Steve all that well at all.

He was really starting to wish that he’d just sided with Steve about the pizza.

Okay so, contrary to popular belief given his whole. Keg King persona back in high school. Steve Harrington… couldn’t hold his drink.

At least not anymore. He couldn’t even do a hand stand anymore.

Before, he’d been a killer at it, he could drink and drink and drink, he was like a fish with it, king of the drinking games, lording it over the popular crowd as if it were something to actually be proud of, as if it were a genuine accomplishment to be able to out drink your peers.

But he didn’t drink anymore. At least not nearly as often as he used to.

Alcohol was expensive, and he worked minimum wage.

The most he could do was a six pack from the gas station that he and Robin would split out on a picnic blanket in his back yard, staring up at the sky with nothing but the glow of the pool lights to dim the stars above, laughing about their failed conquests and making plans neither of them could really afford to see through.

Back to the point, Steve, and Lynda Harrington, had found ol Mags’ stash of cheaper reds.

Not quite the big bucks bottles lining the shelves of the wine cellar which Steve, despite them being his now thank you very much grandparents and their ridiculously generous will, wouldn’t touch, but definitely heavy hitting enough to lighten any terrible lows that may have lingered after their earlier spat.

Which led them to their current predicament. Laying on the rug in the living room in front of a crackling fireplace, two glasses of wine between them, and two half empty bottles.

One each of course, they weren’t going to share just one, what were they? Poor?

Steve, feeling curious about a thing that’d come up once as a small, throwaway thought, now the only thing he could think about as he stared at the wooden beams that made up the ceiling and having zero inhibitions stopping him from asking it, so he asked, “How come you never brought up Robin?”

“Hm?” His mother turned to him, cheeks flushed a warm pink, she never could hold her alcohol, he’d gotten that skill from his dad, however fleeting his use of it had been. “Your friend?”

“Yeah, Robbie’s great, why’d you never… why’d you never try’n set me up with Robbie, wh’ts wrong with Robbie?” He didn’t think she meant to laugh quite as condescendingly as she had, but it definitely sounded like that as she burst out laughing. “Tried every girl but Robbie—s’not funny!”

“Oh, sweetheart, my little baby boy, Eddie… Eddie is lovely. You’re not… not thinking of leaving him for Robin are you?” That slight infliction on her name, what was wrong with Robin?! And then— “B’cause, cause… Jesus—baby, sweetie, you’re not— she’s not—it’s not… hm.” She looked at her almost empty glass as if it’d offended her, then placed it down to look at him again “It’s s’not my place… if you don’t know, s’not my place to tell you!”

“What do you know?” He pushed himself up onto his rear, shaking his head for a moment to clear up the spinny feeling that followed him moving “I—I know everything, Robbie tells me everythin but you… you don’t—what do you know about Robbie?”

“Pfft, sweetheart if you want a chance with Robin then, I’m sorry you’re definitely not aware of everything and that’s surprising, does she know you’re… you know… safe? To talk to I mean? You seemed so close I thought she’d have told you!” Granted, half of the words she was saying were slurred, but not slurred enough that he couldn’t make them out, and they were ringing all the alarm bells his brain could possibly conjure.

What did his mother know, and how had she found it out? “I don’t, I just—I was just wondering why you never—I thought maybe you didn’t think she cut it or something stupid, she’s told me everythin but that doesn’t explain why you know… or what you know, what do you know?”

And now his mother was up, sitting up straight doing the exact same thing as him, shaking off that little spinny spin the world decided to do as she sat up too fast. “Robin is perfect, Steven. Truly a one of a kind, kind of young woman.” The slurring had reduced the more serious she’d become, as if the alcohol couldn’t quite touch the severity of what they were now talking about “she also doodles quite obscene things on her shoes. I saw them in the rack not the last time we were home, the time before it? When she stayed the night? Those ratty old canvas things she wore covered in marker scribbles… most young ladies don't doodle breasts on their shoes, and they certainly don’t write about going 'down' on someone’s sister… I… figured it out. I also know that this isn’t something we should be talking about without her being aware of it.” Or at all, really.

She was right. As usual, his mother was right, he even knew she was right about the pizza, he always broke out a little after Tony’s, a few spots would always appear around his mouth that’d drive him insane, so he knew she was right about the groceries too, but yet…

It was so hard to admit that she was right.

“She uh… she was talking about what you guys were doin before we came out here y’know?” But if his mother knew about Robin then… maybe it wasn’t bad to talk about it. His mom regarded him with a curious expression but didn’t ask him to elaborate, didn’t stop him from elaborating either though “the matchmaking thing? I was complaining about it, cause… y’know… I had someone already” no he didn’t, but the excuse of ‘they all sucked’ probably wouldn’t go down very well. “And she said she wished you’d try setting her up with someone…” it was probably a joke but then…

Robin had been struggling.

The uncertainty in approaching queer dating in a small town like Hawkins was… scary. It was terrifying. They were only getting older, there’d only be so many more chances to experience things and trying to experience things later in life while being a big ol bundle of inexperienced anxiety?

Not fun, Steve didn’t want that for Robin. He wanted her to experience things. To be confident in herself because he loved her. He wanted nice things for her. And nice things involved kissing pretty ladies.

“Really?” Oh that little lightbulb, the devious little twinkle in her eyes, her passion reignited, aimed at a much more deserving and probably receptive target “Oh! Sweetie she should have said, second we get home, give her my personal number, okay? It’s up to her to call me but I would— I have a rolodex of names, an it’ll only the best for—for Robin.” Lynda would find that girl a hot sugar mama even if it killed her.

“You’d do that for her?” Steve put a hand to his chest, touched in a way he couldn’t really describe.

“Oh sweetheart, of course I’d do that for her, she makes you so happy, you just… you light up whenever you’re around her an I know it’s not cause you’re dating her because, unless there’s another conversation we need to be having, you’re really not her type. I know she makes you happy. And I know—I know I don’t say it very often—” her voice was wibbling, and oh boy if she was going to cry, then he’d start crying and they’d be a mess “but I’d—" her voice cracked, oh no “I’d move mountains for—for anything—anyone that makes you happy, sweetheart.”

And that was how Eddie and John found them ten minutes later after shaking the snow from their bodies, grocery bags in hand. The mother and son duo bawling together on the carpet, two bottles into the reds, wondering a very simple “what the fuck...?” voiced by a very confused Eddie.

[ponyosmom35]

first time

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter twenty seven

synopsis: reader goes out with her friends and Simon is worried about her going out without him.

warnings: smut, cursing, angst, mentions of PTSD, oral (f & m receiving)

MDNI

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

“Where were you?” 

“Oh shit, I forgot to tell you I went to brunch with the girls, then we went to world market, wanna see the cute stuff I got?” she asks excitedly 

“Uh... sure. Yeah... sure go ahead” He forces a smile 

“So this rug is gonna be for the entryway, I also found these cute candles to add to the shelf in the living room. I also got a basket for some of the blankets and this really pretty mirror that I may need help mounting later” she smiles 

“The rug's fine and the candles are great... and... the basket and mirror are good too. But the real question is... how long were you gone?”

“Few hours why?” she asks 

“Yeah... I missed you, is all” he responds, trying to avoid an argument. She notices his change in behavior and narrows her eyes, she sets down the candles and crosses her arms. 

“Why are you upset with me?”

He pauses before he speaks “I was worried about you... that's all. But you're back now... and you're fine... So forget it” 

“Why would you worry about me?” she asks in annoyance “I was just with the girls”

“Forget it alright? Lets put up this mirror” he tries to change the subject 

“No tell me” 

“I don’t like the idea of you being out on your own”

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Should I be worried?” she asks 

“No, baby... of course not. you're my girl and I worry about you”

“I can’t bring you everywhere with me Simon”

He can't help but raise his voice as he replies. I know you can't bring me everywhere... but you are my girl, aren't you? So you've gotta understand where I'm coming from” 

“No I don’t understand because you aren’t making any fucking sense! Tell me why you’re worried about me going out without you! Stop dancing around the fucking point!” He grimaces as she raises her voice. He takes a deep breath before speaking slowly and calmly. He's not doing a very good job of concealing the fact that he's angry. 

“When you're out without me there are all kinds of things that could happen to you”

“Simon if this is about Las Almas then I’m sorry but you can’t let that worry you! We’re safe here! I’ve grown up with these people, there’s nowhere safer for us in the world! I can’t put my life on hold just because you’re overprotective about possible threats that don’t exist!”

“Don't tell me that those threats don't exist! There are all kinds of people in the city who might want to harm you... what if I wasn't here to protect you? Do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve seen? I’ve seen the absolute worst form of humanity, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe” 

“ Do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve seen? I’ve seen the absolute worst form of humanity, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe” 

He sighs “I never want you to lock yourself away, or hide from the world. All I’m saying is that... that..”He searches for the right words that will get through to her. “That you shouldn’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily. You want to go for a walk? Go shopping? Go to the library? That’s fine. But going out without me is something I can’t afford to let you-”

“Let me? I’m sorry since when did I need to ask your permission?” she asks angrily 

“ Don't do that... don't twist my words like that... you know damn well that’s not what I meant”

“I can’t do this toxic shit Simon, I’ve dealt with it before I won’t do it again” she says picking up her keys and walking towards the door. “For the record I survived on my own for 26 years without you, I think I’m okay to go to lunch with my fucking friends!”

Before she can make it out of the door, he grabs her arm. “Listen to me baby.”

“What?!” she asks 

He lets go of her arm and gets close to her. He speaks softly as he tries to calm things down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I reacted like that. Things have been so good between us, I’ve never been happier. I guess I’m just waiting for the other show to drop and I can’t let anything happen to you. I love you more than anything in this world, please don’t walk out that door lets just figure this out together”

She looks up at him, all of her previous anger disappearing instantly. Her eyes filling with tears as happiness swells in her heart  “That’s the first time you’ve said you love me” 

He looks down at her realizing that she was right, he’d alluded it before, however the three words were never said. They’d been taking things slow, for both of their sakes. Simon was not used to sharing himself with another, his trauma and PTSD was very real and they dealt with it together. Having been able to read each other without needing to say the words. 

“I love you too” she cries, launching herself into his arms, he lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. He kisses her hair and moves it, placing gentle kisses on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it”

“I’m not” she responds kissing him gently. 

leaning up and kissing her softly, her hands tangle in his hair while his find her waist. After a few moments it gets heated and she tugs on the ends of his hair earning a groan of delight making her smirk against his lips. She allows her hands to fall from his hair and down his chest to the end of his shirt lifting it. He takes it off and reconnects their lips while he works on the shirt she'd stolen from him. Once he gets it over her head she blushes at the realization that it was finally happening. He carries her up to the bedroom and places her on the ground. Kissing her like she was the air he needed to breathe. 

 He backs them to the bed and she sits down scooting herself back and laying on her back before he crawls on top her and begins kissing down her neck, she gasps in pleasure. She smiles and reconnects their lips once again while getting to work on trying to get his pants off, he groans and pulls away slipping off his black pants quickly and throws them behind him carelessly. He then looks down at her breathing heavy but rather than kissing her again he just stares 

    "what?"

    "you're just so beautiful" he says moving a stray piece of hair out of her face, she giggles and hides her face against his arm

    "we should probably stop" 

    "why?" she asks in confusion, had she done something wrong? His head perks up and he looks at her in surprise

    "I mean unless you don't want to stop"

    "no I don't want to stop" she says pulling him back down to into a kiss

"I love you so much" he says against her lips, he pulls away and places a kiss on her cheek before moving down to her neck where he sucked and licked until he was satisfied with the mark he had created on her, her breath quickens as he lowers himself and moves his hands behind her back unclipping her bra before placing short kisses against her right nipple. She gasps and reaches for his hair, he smirks and moves over to the other giving her even more pleasure. Simon moves back and places more open mouthed kisses down her stomach stopping at the hem of her leggings 

"we definitely don't need these" he comments, taking the black stretchy material off of her, he discards it behind him and gets back to his previous actions. Simon places kisses on her thighs and she squeezes them together unconsciously, he smirks bringing his mouth to the hem of her panties and pulling them down with his teeth before discarding them as well. He places a hand on her thigh rubbing it while the other gently begins to massage her clit, she gasps loudly causing Simon to smirk at her from his position 

"what do you want me to do?" he asks in a low voice

"I - I want"

"what baby?"

"your mouth" she cries, Simon smirks and kisses her thighs before swiping his tongue against her, she arches her back in pleasure as he continues going faster and more aggressively. Her hands reach down and find his hair pulling at it as he brings her closer to her high, suddenly his mouth pulls away from her and she frowns in disappointment. He quickly goes back to rubbing her clit with his thumb skillfully smiling as she writhes underneath him, he switches from rubbing and inserts his finger inside of her sensitive vagina, he pumps in and out a few times before adding another. She whimpers as pleasure begins building in her stomach, Simon then moves his mouth back over her and begins to work his magic with his tongue. By now she was a moaning mess as she gripped Simon's hair desperately trying to ride out her high. The pleasure rushes over her and she sighs happily as Simon brings himself back up to her. She grabs his face and kisses him with passion, he was the only person who could make her feel this way and she wanted to make him feel the same. She then pulls away and gets off of the bed, Simon watches her with confusion but she ignores it and kisses his cheek before dropping to the ground. He instantly reaches forward and grabs her arms causing her to look up at him

"you don't have to do this"

"I want to make you feel good" she responds, he nods and she smirks reaching her hand up and placing it on his hardened penis, she looks up at him and smiles as his head tipped back and his eyes closed. She reaches up and pulls down his boxers watching as it springs out with curiosity, she'd never seen one before. she moves closer to him and takes it into her hand moving it up and down his large member slowly, she had no clue what to do but she figured she was doing ok as a string of curses left his mouth. She moves her hand faster before placing as much as she could into her mouth, Simon curses loudly and grabs onto her arm as she moves up and down making sure to work the rest of it with her hand. After a few moments she takes it out and focuses on the tip swirling her tongue around it smirking as Simon moans lowly. She then places him back in her mouth and does her best as she brings him to his edge 

"I'm close" he says, she removes her mouth and continues moving her hand up and down him until he finishes. He breathes heavily staring at her in awe before grabbing her arms and helping her up, he pushes her back on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returns his member is cleaned off and he had a happy smile on his face

    "that was incredible" he says crawling back over to her, she nods and pulls his face to hers kissing him passionately once again. His hands explore her body, after a few moments he pulls away and stares at her with a smile 

    "what?" she asks

    "I'm just so in love with you its unreal" he says softly with a smile 

    "I'm in love with you too Simon"

    "are you sure about this? we can stop" he reassures brushing hair out of her face 

    "you're my person, I want be with you in every way possible"

    "if I'm hurting you please just tell me and I'll stop ok?"

"ok" He then reconnects their mouths together once again and her stomach fills with excitement and nerves, she was ready for this. She loved Simon more than anything and she wanted to be with him. She stares at him in awe wondering how she got so lucky. He sends her one last look and she kisses him again to show him that she wanted this more than anything. Simon moves himself over her and spreads her legs giving him full access, she gasps as she feels the tip rub against her core and moans quietly. He then slowly pushes himself inside of her and she clenches around him gasping in pain, she grips onto his arms trying to lessen the pain. 

"are you ok? am I hurting you?" he asks with a panicked expression, the girl cannot bring herself to speak but shakes her head. She wanted to do this. He moves himself in fully and she moves her head against his, he kisses her neck trying to comfort her and make it better. He dips his head and kisses her cheek before moving over to her nose

"is it better now?" he asks, she nods and he begins to pull back out slowly, he sends her another look before moving back in a bit faster this time and she sighs as the pain had lessened. They continue slowly and with each passing minute the girl begins to feel better and better. She began to arch her back and move with him as he went faster, her small moans were driving Simon crazy. Simon moves her legs up and she wraps them around his waist crying out as he hits her g spot every time she moves her head to his neck and pulls at his hair. She begins to kiss his neck. She had no idea how long had passed when she began feeling that familiar build-up

"I'm close" she mumbles holding onto his hair

"me too" he responds as his strokes begin to grow sloppy and she cries out as pleasure washes over her body panting and trying to catch her breath. Simon continues going in and out before finishing himself moaning loudly in her ear, he collapses on her chest and she reaches up brushing her fingers through his slightly damp hair. He then lifts himself up and pulls out of her before rolling over, she turns to her side and he instantly pulls her into his arms gently stroking her skin. It was nice being alone, just the two of them, this was not a gift they got often as her brother still hates his guts. But right now nothing could ruin this moment for her, it was perfect, she had her first time with the man she loved and planned to spend the rest of her life with. She looks at him and admires every detail of his face and smiles as he jokingly covers it. she reaches her hand up and traces from his nose down to his lips and finishes it off with a soft kiss which makes him smile brightly.

    "so was it everything you ever dreamed of?" Simon jokes causing her to blush and hit his chest before covering her face in embarrassment, he reaches up and moves her hands from her face so he can see her. Her mind wandered back to the sex dream she had about him after they first met. 

    "did I hurt you?" 

    "no you didn't" 

    " I love you, I don't know how you did it but you made me feel whole again. I want spend the rest of eternity with you, even then It wouldn’t be enough"

    "we can have forever" Simon stares at her with sadness as he knew that his words would not ring true, their forever wouldn’t be as long as she hoped and it was his fault. Simon shakes the negative thoughts of the future out of his head and smiles wondering to himself how in the holy hell he got her. She had the purest heart and he was far from the same, they were complete opposites yet they worked. They both respected each other and never dared to change the latter, they worked well as a team.

Tag list:

@vivi123abc 

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 12

Part 12:

"Your apartment smells funny," Liana said as she entered the building and moved towards the main window. "We can buy a rug for the living room. Do you want one?" she asked after walking around the rooms in Patrick’s apartment. It was small. Living room, kitchen, bedroom, and a bathroom. It had been a month since she settled in the Oxford dorms. Patrick had arrived three days ago, and this was the first time they were meeting.

"Hey Amanda. I missed you too." Patrick leaned against the bedroom doorframe, watching her with amusement. She just couldn’t help it. She had to fix something. She would always find something that needed tidying and organizing. He had learned not to argue with this trait from a young age. He had learned that if he refused, she would withdraw into herself, and it would bother her until she could do something about it.

"Hey." She smiled genuinely and hugged him. Patrick looked almost the same as she remembered. Jet-lagged but pleased with his choices for a change. "Hey..." he refused to let go of her, inhaling her scent deeply like he always did when she allowed him.

"You're here." She took a step back and examined him, as if not believing it was really happening. As if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment. That’s how Patrick decided to interpret her facial expression, even if that’s not what reality was showing him. He would take the current smile any day over another day where she was at a certain point on the map and he was on the other side of the world. "So many possibilities, Amanda." He couldn’t stop smiling. "Let's find you a rug and some pillows for the couch, okay?" she replied, trying to solve the current problem she had found for herself; his apartment.

They wandered around London for hours. Stopped for lunch at a small Italian restaurant. Went into a small museum and did some window shopping at brand stores neither of them could afford. Liana’s laughter filled the space occasionally. A sound Patrick prayed to dream about when he would be alone without her scrutinizing gaze around.

As the sun set, they sat on the grass in a park near Liana’s dorms, each holding an ice cream cone. "I think I found a job," she said, trying to eat as much of the ice cream as she could before it melted completely. "Where?" he asked with curiosity. "There’s a cafeteria in Oxford that sells smoothies and other things that pretentious people willing to pay unreasonable amounts. I’ll probably start next week." She smiled, pleased with herself. "Will you be able to balance it with your studies?" he asked. "I have to try. My parents were barely willing to keep paying for my studies as long as I'm not at Stanford, and I don’t want to take an actual loan just to be able to pay for food. It feels unnecessary and lazy." She shrugged, as if it was self-evident.

"You're tough. You’ll make it. When do classes start?" he asked. "In a week. I’m stressed. But a friend of my roommate, Flor, is starting with me, and I met her. She seems nice." Liana chatted about people she had met in the past month. "You're nice." Patrick smiled his characteristic smile when he tried to dodge the implications of what he was saying. It was a toothy grin that included a dimple. It usually highlighted his eyes, showing something mischievous that at age 20 should have started to fade. But not with Patrick. "You're a jerk." Liana rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder, which automatically made him grab her hand.

Liana couldn’t help but think about Art. About the fact that it was the same gesture. Art had held her just like that at the Christmas party. She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat for a moment. Not wanting to change the atmosphere too much but feeling the shift anyway.

Patrick felt the change too, but it was like background noise. He understood something happened but didn’t know what. This wasn’t the first time he touched Liana. You could say he was a touchy person by nature. It wasn’t new and didn’t characterize just his relationship with her. "What just happened?" he asked with a chuckle, as if it wasn’t really important. As if it wasn’t serious. As if he could breathe properly and wasn’t trying to correct the mistake he made a moment ago. As if he wouldn’t do anything to make her laugh again and not look at him with furrowed brows.

"Nothing. It’s getting late. Shall we go?" she asked, with a smile that didn’t reach her ears. One that showed teeth but not all of them. One that hid from him what she really felt. He hated that smile.

"Patrick! You'll have ants in your house!" Liana scolded. No, she wasn’t just scolding; she was fuming. Three months had passed since Patrick moved to London. His coach, Kirk Fucking Morcich, was objectively the best coach he had ever had. He had improved tremendously. From the moment Patrick decided to take tennis seriously and not just as a way to avoid a real job, he started seeing results.

He still had to attend the annoying courses his parents signed him up for. But he had already won a tournament in Europe. Something he didn’t think would happen, and certainly not so soon.

His parents were proud of him. A strange feeling. An almost unfamiliar feeling. His mother called him and actually said those words, “Hey Pat, your dad and I read about you in the paper. Well done.” And he wanted to find something bad and start a fight because he didn’t know any other way to talk to his mother, but he said “thanks” quietly and felt himself blush. Like a little boy needing a kind word from an adult who was never really responsible. Not for what mattered.

“You can’t just leave your food out like this, Pat.” Liana interrupted his train of thought. “It’s not that bad.” He responded with an eye roll. “Patrick, it’s moldy. It’s been sitting on your table with actual mold. How am I supposed to wash this? It’s disgusting!” she fumed. Her cheeks were red, and her hand moved quickly over her nose.

“You don’t have to wash it. Did I ask you to wash it? Just throw the plate away; I have more plates.” He rolled his eyes again. “Why can’t you take anything seriously?!” Liana nearly stomped her foot. “Did we get married or something? Because this relationship doesn’t have the benefits of marriage, you just yell at me after I haven’t been home for a week.” He sighed and sat on the couch, officially tired of this argument. “No, Patrick, we didn’t get married, and sorry I don’t want you to die of dysentery while you’re living alone.” She shot back, and he heard the plate land in the sink. “So instead of throwing it away, you decided to break it?” He started getting angry too, because lately, that’s how all their conversations looked. Conversations about why he didn’t wash dishes, why he left the milk out, why he didn’t water the plant she bought him, why he didn’t show up at the bar her friend worked at, why he didn’t.

And he just wanted to tell her that if she acted like he was her boyfriend, then she should let him touch her the way he wanted to touch her. But they hadn’t had that conversation yet. He hadn’t told her that when he wasn’t thinking about tennis, he was thinking about her, and to be honest, if he wasn’t thinking about those two things, he was thinking about Art. And he knew she was thinking about Art too. And maybe they needed to have a conversation about fucking Art.

“I didn’t break it. Calm down.” She muttered. Liana had managed to somehow find herself in London. She couldn’t say that about any other period in her life. She enjoyed her studies and had met quite a few new people. People she liked being around. People she wasn’t embarrassed around and felt comfortable drinking wine with. She was a person who enjoyed wine now. Some might say Liana had grown up. She would agree with them.

One time, after drinking wine with her new friends, she called Art. She would say it didn’t happen until her dying day. She wouldn’t have anyone to say it to because he didn’t answer, and she didn’t plan on going around telling the world she drunkenly called Art Donaldson. It was embarrassing.

Patrick was always busy. Tennis. Fucking tennis. She hated tennis so much, and as someone who didn’t even know how to hold a racket properly, she couldn’t escape this terrible game.

So as close as Patrick had been during these months, he was still far away. She had hoped so much that he would be an integral part of this experience. That he would love London as much as she loved London, but he just loved playing tennis in London, and she was losing to the ball and racket again and again throughout her life. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Why are you mad at me?” Patrick stood up, moving towards the kitchen, leaning against the door in his characteristic way. “I’m not mad at you.” She rolled her eyes, her back to him, trying to wash the plate he ruined with food he didn’t clean up in time. “This is pointless.” She muttered to herself. “That passive-aggressive vibe might work with Art. It doesn’t work on me. Either tell me why you’re mad or let me go rest.” He said, not taking his piercing gaze off her back.

“Do you want me to leave?” She turned to him. Her expression made it clear she was hurt. She completely ignored the comment about Art. Patrick didn’t want to keep ignoring comments about Art. “I want you to tell me what you want from me, Liana. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.” He started moving towards her. “I don’t want anything from you, Patrick. You’re my friend. We came here together, and I care about you. That’s all.” She shrugged and looked everywhere in the room except his face.

“Liana.” He stood in front of her, demanding. Something in his tone made her look directly at him. “What?” Her voice was quiet. She hated her voice. Why did she always sound so desperate?! “Why are we fighting about dishes when you don’t live here? You understand that’s ridiculous?” He asked, not letting go and not changing his tone out of pity for her soft voice. “I’m not fighting with you. I want you to be reasonable. Do you think I enjoy playing mommy with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms beneath her chest.

Patrick stared at her chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. Fuck it. “You can’t act like we’re sleeping together while not sleeping with me. That’s absurd.” He realized he had said it only when he saw her eyes widen and her face turn red. “You think I’m hitting on you, Patrick? Is that what you think this is?” She asked, her voice unsteady. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. God. Why is this happening to her? “Eat from your disgusting plate with mold for all I care. I won’t say a word.” She said and tried to move past him. It was her cue to leave before this conversation escalated. He pulled her back with a quick but not overly forceful hand movement. She knew he had a lot more strength in him. She knew he was fire. In the pair Fire and Ice, he would always be Fire. “Patrick.” Her weak voice almost whispered. “You’re not hitting on me?” He asked, also in a low voice. He seemed relatively calm considering the storm of emotions within him.

Patrick decided he had nothing more to lose. He was improving. He was maturing. He asked his parents for help. He had moved halfway across the world to be close to her. He was becoming the best version of himself. And to be honest, Patrick knew that if Liana had settled for the mediocre and basic version of Art, there was no reason he shouldn’t at least try. So Patrick decided to try.

“No...” She bit her lip and looked at him without breaking eye contact. “Bullshit.” He laughed. He just laughed in her face and didn’t release his hold. “You’re walking around my apartment, dressed in short clothes in fucking December in London. Getting mad about plates. Liana. Even you can’t be that naive about what this does to me after a week of a tournament. A grueling week of victories without anyone to celebrate my success.” He considered kissing her neck at that moment. He thinks she would let him. Now, looking at her, he was sure she would let him do whatever he wanted with her. And he was a greedy bastard. He wanted everything.

“Liana. Look at me.” He demanded. Not letting go. She looked. “Why are we fighting?” He asked. The stern tone made her blink. “I missed you.” She said, defeated.

“It’s really hard when you’re supposedly here but not really here, and I know you’re here for tennis, but I wanted you to be here for me too, and it’s okay if we have separate lives here, I do too—” Patrick cut off her endless ramblings because he knew she wouldn’t stop talking if it was up to her. His lips found hers, and his hands held the back of her head. and somehow she actually kissed him back.

The feeling of Patrick’s lips on hers was different from the feeling of Art’s lips. Liana hated herself for comparing him to Art. She wondered if every person who will kiss her would automatically be compared to the person who hurt her the most. She wondered if that’s how she would live the rest of her life. And during these existential thoughts, she realized the bitter truth. Art Donaldson would be a part of her forever.

“Pat. Wait. We can’t. We can’t do this.” She put a small hand on his chest, and he took a step back. Because when a girl told Patrick she wanted to stop, he stopped. “Why can’t we?” He didn’t look amused. He looked angry and hungry and tired, all in the once. In the same body movements. “You know why” Liana sighed.

Silence fell in his kitchen.

"You don't owe him anything," Patrick stated. This time he felt like he's the one who could stomp his foot like a kid in the middle of a tantrum.

"I know." She bit her lip.

"I don't owe him anything," he said, this time not looking at her. Because if she saw his face, she'd know he was lying to himself. Liana always saw him. She saw him stripped of defenses. And his biggest defense right now was tied to the girl in front of him and the fact that they both missed Art. And he did owe him the love of his life.

Because Liana still didn't know what Patrick and Art both knew clearly; Patrick had won. She would be his the moment he decided so.

"Liana. Please let me kiss you." His voice was weak, and his gaze shifted to her. His eyes still screamed fire. Fire. Fire. Danger. Run. Fire. Stay away. Get closer. Fire. Danger. Fire. "Liana." He said again, closer now, breathing the same air she breathed. The air she exhaled entered his lungs. He moved his hand back to her neck. The other hand, unashamedly, grabbed her ass in a half-pinch. It was a grip that didn't retreat, didn't regret, didn't shy away. As if he was born to hold her exactly like this. Exactly how he wanted. "Patrick." She didn't recognize the sound that escaped her mouth out of surprise, but she recognized Patrick's smile just a second before his lips were on hers again. Patrick had decided.

Hey thereeee It's London and it's Patrick's time to shine. What are we feeling about everything? Talk to me. I'm dying to know what you're thinking as usual.

taglist: @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[soulc-hilde]

Money, Money

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x OFC! Caden

Synopsis: No longer about her future, Caden spirals as the rug is once again pulled from underneath her feet. Living her days in a silent shell, she forces herself into her work. Noted as the restaurant's Mute Pâtissier, the stuttering eyes of her boss always finds themselves attached to her. Studying her. Like some animal in the wild.

Divider By @strangergraphics-archive

Mindlessly stepping into the kitchen from the back door, Caden was ignorant of her surroundings as she fumbled to take the helmet from her head. Freed at last, she fans one of her gloves over her flushed face when the sound of something boiling catches her ear. She turns around, lidded eyes stare at the unconscious body of Carmen. She quietly sighs, walking over, and gently lifts his right leg onto the bench beside his left one.

It's uncomfortable to lie like that, she justifies to herself.

The baker walks over to the locker room and begins to remove her jacket, swapping the green and black bike gear for the blue apron that lays on top of her white graphic ‘Eat My Boot’ shirt. As she leaves the corner, the bell rings at least two times. Heading for the door, Carmen jumps up behind her, a frazzled reenactment of The Undertaker.

His dazed eyes take a few to focus, squinting at the blurred figure strutting for the door. He hops to his feet, walking behind as the door opens. His eyes rest on Caden as the morning light lays across her face, onyx eyes turn into a warm brown similar to the chocolates she’d melt for her desserts. Curly, blonde edges peak from underneath the green bandana. He watches as she looks down at the cooler, face blank and unimpressed, but forced to take it anyways.

He snaps out of it, stepping closer.

“What’s that?” He rhetorically asks, glaring down at the blue cooler.

She sighs, “25 pounds of meat. He says, we couldn’t even afford half of what we needed.” Carmen shakes his head, “no, no, no – Fuck!”

“That’s what I said,” she sighs, pulling the tub with her to the kitchen. “There has to be a way… a, a mistake, maybe?”

Caden shakes her head, “call Lu, see what she says. If anything, she’s probably so far in debt with Mikey, there are no more loopholes.”

With that she steps into the walk-in, begrudgingly putting away the meat onto shelves taller than her. In the meantime, Carmen rushes into the office to call Luanne in hopes she’d at least give him this one chance.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. “yeah, yeah, yeah. No, no. No, Luanne that’s, that’s… that’s really nice of you.” He pauses as she speaks, “uh-huh.”  

“Yeah. No, no, w-we’re really grateful to still be open after everything. Yeah, so listen, I, um… I’m still tryin’ to figure this place out, ya know, see how Michael was doing everything and I wanna get yer money. Yeah, yeah, no. Uh, I miss him, too. Yeah. Okay.”

“No, it’s good. Yeah, yeah. Okay. Thanks, anyway. Yeah, yeah, yeah. A’ight. Bye.” He hangs up, tossing the phone across the office.

Stewing with his thoughts and the obnoxious, old ass arcade games, he stands up. “Fuck!”

He marches for the games, “shut up!” He goes to pull at the overcrowded outlet extension. Tina charges after him, “no, no, no. Puta! Don’t unplug it.”

He stops, rubbing the center of his forehead with the back of thumb. “I know what that means, Tina.” She continues. “You unplug it, it won’t work again.”

Caden appears in the doorway behind the woman. “Guessin’ the call didn’t go good,” she sighs. He simply shakes his head in response, eyes catching the coin slots of the machines. He points, “when was the last time you emptied these?”

The women shrug, “don’t know.”

Carmen rushes to grab the key, opening each one, emptying the mounds of coins into buckets. Caden’s eyebrows raise as she watches. He turns to her, the ocean meeting the black sand.

She shrugs, “it’s not much, but it gets us goin’.”

She leaves, returning to help Marcus in the bakery. Well, more like do everything three times faster as he still has a bit to comprehend in terms of pacing. On the other hand, Carmen’s face stretches with a small corner smile, racing into the kitchen as he prepares one of the chucks of meat with his Japanese knives. Pot heated, ready for the red meat to drop within its cave.

Carmen trims the chuck of its fat with gloved hands and throws it away, he then seasons the meat before setting it to the side. He prepares the carrots, cutting them in halves before taking one and dicing it. Tina watches from over his shoulder, smirking, “you cut vegetables like a bitch.”

“Don’t wipe your hands on your apron, Chef,” he simply responds. Tina stops behind him, turning around, “Jeff?” “Chef.”

Unbeknownst to him, Caden watches from the corner of her eye, a subtle smile painting her round face. Like a tiny mad genius, she huffs.

He shakes some extra virgin olive oil across the bottom of the steel skillet before placing the meat inside, pressing down gently to start that nice brown sear as the oil hisses. Flipping the meat onto the other side after about five, ten minutes at the most, he flips it. The slightly charred meat with cooked remnants of seasoning practically sparkles against the yellow artificial light of the kitchen.

In another pan, he sautés some chopped onions, swirling them on a low-medium fire with a wooden spoon to prevent them from burning. He then adds in the diced carrots as well as celery with the onions, after a while of cooking those down, he adds in the tomatoes and beef stock, allowing it to boil. After bringing down the heat, he adds into a deep pan and coats the seared beef chuck with the sauce.

He covers the top with tinfoil, tidying up the edges and slides onto the top rack of the oven and letting it slow cook until they open for service. With his moment to breathe, he leans against the counter with a slouch, glancing at the clock.

10:25 a.m. He’s got some time to give Chi-Chi that jean jacket.

Caden was preparing another tray of honey buns and setting another on the rack to cool when Marcus glances at her. “How in the hell do you do that?”

“I’m sorry, what?” She looks back from the cooling rack, pulling down the protectant sleeve to keep them shielded from any contaminants.

“Like, how are you so fast?” He asks again, looking down at the raw down that lies flat and pathetic underneath his huge hand. “The mixer’s a piece of shit and broken, but when you do it, it’s as if you’re hands are the mixer… if that makes sense.”

She stares at him, “Marcus, kid, not a lot of shit you say, makes sense, but that’s okay.” She goes to wash her hands, speaking over the water.

“At first, I wanna say it’s all about experience. Regardless, if you went to culinary school like Car or if you’ve just worked within the food industry all your life.”

Hands wet and clean, she turns them upwards, digits facing the ceiling as she turns and grabs three paper towels with a pull and tear. She pats dries her hands before balling it between her fingers and using the material to turn off the water and tossing it into the trash bin. Rather than bouncing off the inner wall, the ball soars in a perfect arch, landing center on the empty trash bin.

“But, it’s more than that,” she continues, beginning to work on forming the next round of rolls.

“You need to find a repetition. A form of discipline that works with you. Not for, but with. Without that repetition, your skills become dull, or they become stagnant. You never progress.”

She lightly showers the cutting board with flour, covering the small ball of dough. She sets the cup beside her left and begins to roll with a circular motion, until it stopped sticking to the wooden board. Using the heels of her palms, she pushes the dough forward before picking up the top with her fingers and pulling it back down, molding it with the rest.

And the cycle repeats. Flour. Roll. Push. Pull. And finally, she places the collection on the parchment paper that lines the steel baking sheet. She covers them with another parchment paper and then two kitchen towels to let them rise.

“Once you create that rhythm, you begin to enter a flow. Whether that means you get lost within your work, you feel at ease – confident, or you learn somethin’ new along the way, you’ve made yourself a home within your space. Just like when you first came in, you were overwhelmed, felt like you were intruding, all that goes out the window.”

Marcus nods, a small smile of understanding brightens his face. She points at the shelves of dry and momentarily ingredients that were stored and labeled.

“That’s my system. Everything I do follows a system and no, it’s not like whatever fuck shit Tina and ‘em be doin’. Okay? That right there is Mikey and Richie’s mess that Car is now forced to fix. But here, in my bakery? Boy, yuh gonna learn somethin’ and yuh betta stick wit’ it cause I’on’t play.”

He laughs, nodding. “I got you, Chef. I got you.” She nods, eyes light with amusement, “ye hearin’ me?” He nods, “I hear you.”

She holds her hand out. He dabs her up and the two go back to the rolls. Marcus struggling while Caden empties the ovens and refills them with new trays.

Entering the kitchen, a woman stops, looking lost. She turns to the duo with a small smile, “uh, hi,” she waves. “I’m Sydney, I’m here to do an interview for the stagging position.”

Caden nods, shutting the oven. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. I’m Caden, the Head Baker. You’ll be speaking with the boss, Carmen. Follow me.” The two walk to the back of the dish room.

As they reach the back where Carmen’s voice echoes, conversating with someone of the phone, Caden sends a gentle knock. He hangs up, turning around. His face red and painted with lines of exhaustion lightens, his cerulean eyes meeting Caden’s dark ones. “Hey,” he breathes.

��Howdy,” she drawls. Her warm eyes softened at him, silently checking in. He nods in response, “yeah, yeah.”

She nods, gesturing to the young woman beside her. “This is Sydney Adamu, the new hire for the stagging position, I told you about.”

Carmen nods, “I remember. Yeah, thank you.” She nods, backing out, eyes staying on him, “always.”

Y'all, we got Syd the Chef in here, let's go! I'm also kind of soft for Caden and Carmen but that's a whole other discussion

Taglist: @spiderstyles04 @lostinwonderland314