#a lot of what happened to me happened in my own fucking backyard

[embergalaxy]

i hate that i live in an unsafe area and cant go on walks by myself, not even during the day

[seat-safety-switch]

Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of the American Horticultural Society? If you answered in the affirmative to this question, there are several detectives down at the station who would like to talk with you about your activities over the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm no snitch: I just want my shitboxes back.

Gardeners are nothing if not resourceful. If you go into a good-sized suburban backyard garden, you'll see trash cans getting used to protect plants. Old lawnmower-struck hose irrigating tender veggies. And CD-ROMs dangling everywhere, to alternatingly antagonize and beguile the crows into not eating all the cucumbers this year. I admire this kind of waste-not-have-not mentality, but sometimes it goes a little bit too far.

A couple months ago, there were some rumblings about "guerrilla gardeners." These rogue seedsfolx would roam the countryside, eyes peeled for opportunity to plant a garden on land they don't own. Upon finding old abandoned lots, sun-bleached traffic islands, and unattended flower beds, they would strike, stuffing innocent lands with their ovules. Soon, a gorgeous garden of hardy plants would be in that place. Pissed off the bylaw officers, who now had to deal with the beauteous, chaotic bounty of nature, rather than dead, brown grass when it came time to mow. I thought this was pretty funny, until it happened to me.

Do you know why they tell you not to leave your dog inside a car? Because it gets really hot inside a car. Sun goes into the windows, but the heat can't escape. We call this a "greenhouse effect." Do you know what else has a greenhouse effect? Fucking greenhouses do. One morning, I came out to my yard full of several dozen non-operable, shit-box automobiles to find that someone had jimmied the locks on each and every one of them. On the seats? Plants. Some were exotic hothouse varieties. Some were simply pretty flowers. And they were all growing strong, fed by the sunlight through the greasy windows, the controlled drip of rainwater through the rust holes in the roof, the iron-rich powder on the seats, and the humid rainforest atmosphere of my cars' interior. What was this town coming to?

I cleared this out, of course, placing the plants gently outside, where they belonged. Soon, even more exotic varietals of botanist-lust found their way into the cars to replace them. If I turned my back for a weekend, I'd be chopping a strange kind of vine that even Wikipedia says "I dunno" about. The local bylaw officer noticed, too, while trying to do one of her routine sweeps to see if she could get me on a technicality. Seeing the work of the guerrilla gardeners enraged her so much that I don't think she even noticed I started parking the Viscount in the neighbour's swimming pool to keep the interior safe from all but water lilies.

[spicyspiders]

old man logan part 3

1.6k words

ft scott summers. logan has noticed scott has been angry at work and knows a way to help him relax. old man logan is his own warning, of course, but also a warning for rough oral sex, choking, and boot humping.

Part 1 and Part 2.

“My friend-”

“You have friends?” You ask, playing up your joke with a shocked expression. 

Logan sends you a glare after cutting him off, a scowl darkening his handsome face. You bite your lip, trying not to let out the laugh that bubbles up, but when you see the man’s face beside him slit into a grin, you can’t help but let it out. 

“My friend,” Logan starts again as he wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, “I thought Scott could use a little downtime. He’s been a little stressed at work,” he says, sending Scott a knowing look, “I was thinking we could all hang out.”

“I didn’t know people over 45 still used the word hang out,” you responded to Logan. 

“What word did you think we used?” Scott asked with a confused smile. Even inside Logan’s house he still wore the sunglasses he showed up in. It kinda weirded you out, but everyone had their quirks, you guessed. 

“I don’t know,” you said, giving yourself a few seconds to think, “I thought you just had meetings,” you answered. Scott looked even more confused with your response, which meant maybe Logan was right. It looked like the man needed to spend a little bit of time not thinking so hard, some time where he could turn his brain off and relax.

“After all,” Logan said, turning to look at you, “I always feel much more relaxed after our– what’d you call them?” he asks, now sending you a knowing look. 

“Meetings,” you answered with an eye roll. You weren’t a fucking prostitute, but it looked like Logan thought of you as one. Or perhaps this was Logan turning a new leaf like he did when he gave all of the toys back that littered his backyard and he was just trying to help someone else. 

Or maybe there was just something weird, sick, and twisted in him that made him want to watch you suck another man’s cock. You had a lot of questions to ask afterwards, but now, you had more pressing matters to handle. 

It was easy getting Scott to Logan’s couch, but he was mouthy when it finally came time to get his pants and underwear down, “this isn’t what I thought was going to happen when you invited me over,” he said to Logan, his already hardening cock twitching in your face. 

“What?” You think I invited you over for a game of chess,” Logan said with a laugh, “you’ve been so hot-headed lately I thought this would help you cool off,” he said, one of his knees knocking Scott’s. 

It was kind of sweet, in a weird, sexual way. It also answered a question you pondered on if Logan was as rude to his friends as he could be to you. 

“I’m sorry about him,” you said to Scott, placing a kiss to his thigh, though you were sure he was already familiar with how Logan acted from working with him. “You could stand to be a little nicer,” you said up to Logan.

Ignoring what you said, Logan wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulder again, “he’ll finally shut up when your dick is in his mouth,” he said to the man beside him.

“You’re sure?” Scott asked. You had forgotten how many times he had asked that since he was able to pick up on why you were really here, but it was sweet of him to ask, even if it started to annoy you after the last few times he asked. 

You responded by taking the head of Scott’s cock into your mouth, the man above you gasping. You teased the head with your tongue, swirling the wet muscle around the sensitive glands on the crown. Once his cock was fully hard, you were rewarded with the salty taste of his precum from the slit. 

Seemingly in another fucked up way to help him, Logan placed a hand on the back of your neck, “he likes it rough,” he said, his voice an octave lower, “he can take it,” he finished, showing Scott just how well you could by pushing your head down so his cock went deeper. 

Scott wasn’t as large as Logan, but that didn’t mean he was anything to scoff at. His cock still brought tears to your eyes as it touched the back of your throat, your nose just a few centimeters away from the thatch of dark hair at the base. 

Logan’s hand moved away as he let Scott take control, the man moving much slower than the other as he fed you his cock. Scott groaned when you swallowed and the wet heat of your throat contracted around his cock, his hips jumping off the couch. 

The motion made you gag as he went even deeper, your tears spilling over, “attaboy,” Logan said as you heard the clink of his belt buckle unfastening. Though you weren’t sure who he was talking to, if the praise was meant for you for taking Scott’s cock, or if it was for Scott as he took the reins with his hand on your neck, the words still had your cock twitching in your pants.

“You okay?” Scott asked softly, his voice, like Logan’s, deeper than before. He pulled his cock free from your mouth with a hand wrapped around the base and used the other one to wipe at the tears that had fallen. 

You nodded, looking up at Scott with a watery smile, one that Scott returned as he placed his hand back around the back of your neck. You glanced over at Logan, your cock jerking in your pants once more at the expression on the man’s face. It was difficult to tell what it was, probably due to the lack of oxygen to your brain from sucking Scott’s cock, but he didn’t exactly look happy.  

Logan always looked like that though. The closest emotion your brain could come up with was jealousy. You didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the possibility of Logan being jealous watching you suck another man’s cock. It looked like your cock would think about it though, especially as it grew fully hard in your pants. 

Logan’s legs were spread wide, giving you full view of the bulge in his jeans. What you last watched before you closed your eyes and took Scott back into your mouth was his fingers moving past the top of his underwear.

Scott didn’t push with his hand, just laid it there as he let you go at your own pace. It proved to be satisfactory as he moaned above you as you bobbed your head up and down along his cock. It was easier than moments ago to take him deeper, aided by the spit that slicked your way. 

You heard a shifting noise on the couch, but with your eyes closed missed the soft, wet noise of Logan spitting into his palm. The slick noise of Logan’s hand along his cock lit a fire in your belly, and the sound of Scott’s moans only made it burn brighter. 

Scott came when Logan’s boot made its way between your spread legs and the contact to your cock made you moan. The vibrations went straight up Scott’s cock, right to the tip where cum pulsed from his cock. 

You swallowed his salty spend once it hit your tongue, warming your throat as it went down. Scott’s hand tightened around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he came, his hips spasming as his cock throbbed along your tongue. You ran your tongue along the thick vein along the underside, drawing all you could from his cock until it started to soften. 

His cock fell from your lips with a pop as Scott’s hand was once again replaced by Logan’s, “ah!” You said in pain as Logan pulled you toward his cock. His hand moved to the front of your neck in a tight grip, locking you in place. 

The pace Logan’s hand moved along his cock was impressively fast as he stroked his cock. His boot moved back between your legs, placing the toe of his boot in the perfect position for you to hump your way to completion as Logan fucked his fist. 

“You’re like a bitch in heat,” Logan said around a cruel laugh, his words sending you right over the edge. 

Your mouth fell open as you moaned, your head still held in face by Logan’s fist. You wheezed your way through your orgasm, Logan’s fingers tightening as he hit his own. Your vision went spotty and darkened along the edges as Logan’s fingers cut off your air supply. Mouth open, you tried to gasp in breaths, another taste hit your tongue as Logan spurted ropes of cum onto your face and a select few landed in your mouth. 

“Logan!” Scott said loudly before Logan’s hand fell away from your throat. You fell forward onto Logan’s leg as you sucked in breath after breath into your aching lungs. You knew there would probably be a hand-shaped bruise there tomorrow, but right now all you could focus on was the quickly cooling mess in your pants. 

“Quit yer bitchin’,” Logan responded, pulling you up with his hands under your armpits, “he’s fine,” he said as you fell forward into his lap, his softening cock rubbing messily into your shirt. 

“M’fine, Scott,” you said to him, your voice rough and nearly unrecognizable, even to your own ears. “Will you get me a paper towel?” You asked as you let your head fall to Logan’s shoulder.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

"Dude, I took over your dad's body.."

"...and goddamn is there a lot of him to work with! I've been a ghost for years now, but I've never been inside a 6' 3" ex-linebacker! I've been checking him out all afternoon, and let me tell you that this man is big and hairy all over," he punctuates his comment with a wink.

Your dad, the man you've looked up to your entire life, is saying things you don't want to think about while casually laying on the couch in nothing but a robe and booty shorts. The urge to puke is suppressed, but you know that Jimmy has crossed a line here. Your deceased friend has possessed bullies, professors, and more, but he's never had the balls to take over your own family. What was he thinking?

"I jumped into him while he was at work. I think his coworkers probably found it strange when I picked up his briefcase and waddled his ass out the door," Jimmy chuckles at the memory, "But don't worry. Your old man had plenty of sick days he wasn't gonna use."

It doesn't take long for you to burst out in anger at the spirit controlling your father. Your face is hot, and you can't stand to watch your dad get puppetted around like a fool!

"Calm the fuck down!" he swears uncharacteristically, "Give this big guy a hug. Come here. Daddy needs some love..."

The thought of hugging your father while he's being forced to act like this feels wrong, but you relent. A part of you is glad for the embrace. It might not actually be your dad, but paternal comfort is exactly what you need right now, and your real dad isn't the type to give his child a hug.

"That's it, son," Jimmy pets your head with your father's thick hands, "Let daddy take care of you. Let your dumb old fart-of-a-father give you some much-needed attention."

You can't help but chuckle at the self-deprecating joke. Your real dad was too proud to laugh at himself, and he'd never made an effort to be anything other than distant and formal with you. In fact, there was a lot your real dad would never do; he'd never leave the office in the middle of the day, he'd never lay around the house like a lazy bum, and he'd certainly never let his hairy chest and thick legs be on full display in front of his disappointing gay son.

Suddenly, while still embraced, you realize there's something poking into your waist.

"Sorry, dude," your father whispers in your ear, "I guess your dad is just happy to see you."

You push him away, insisting that Jimmy needs to stay out of family members' bodies because this just feels so wrong! You search the pair of unnaturally blank eyes for any sign that Jimmy might be listening to you.

"You need to relax, bro," your dad (Jimmy) groans in annoyance. He looks disappointed, but then he sparks up and gives you a new look of excitement. "Son," he says with exaggerated machismo, "Take a page from my book and learn to chill out. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about you or me. I'll prove it to you..."

With a placid grin and blank gaze, your father lumbers past and marches straight out the front door of the house. You're almost too stunned to follow. Was Jimmy really going to parade your dad's body around the neighborhood in nothing but his robe?

"Afternoon, neighbor," your father's rumbling tone bellows across the street, "Lovely weather, today. My son thought I should take my fat hairy gut for a little stroll in the sun. You know us dads have got to keep our boys happy. Am I right?"

Mr. Jones stares at your father from his porch, just as shocked as you are. He often drank beers with this man and every other neighborhood dad at backyard barbecues and living room game watches. This was not how he normally interacted with the man, and it obviously struck him as weird.

"You alright, Bob?" he asks hesitantly.

"Right as rain, neighbor!" Jimmy answers with a tone that's too goofy to pass as my dad's, "If that's how you're staring at me now, I wonder what'll happen if I take this robe off..."

Before Mr. Jones can process the flirtation in your father's voice, you shuffle your dad further down the street and away from the whole interaction. That may have been hilarious, but Jimmy was going to destroy any reputation and respect your father had around here!

You demand to know where Jimmy is going with this body. It's not like you have any ability to even slow the ghost down when he's got the weight and strength of your 200 lb father.

"I'm thinking the park. Your dad could use some cardio," he smirks, an unfamiliar expression on the grown man's face, "Or maybe the public bathroom on the north end. You know, it has that hole in the stall..."

No amount of reasoning or arguments can change Jimmy's mind. Apparently he's set on wearing your father to the city's most notorious gay hookup spot.

"Don't look at me like that," his gravelly voice sounds amused by your frustration, "With me in charge, your dad will be the dirtiest slut that bathroom's ever seen. Don't you think it'll be funny to see such a massive, manly bear serving man after man in there?"

You sigh in disbelief.

"Or...maybe I don't have to rent out your dad's body to a bunch of strangers..."

You wonder where he's going with this. It sounds like an ultimatum is coming, and you don't like the idea of your crazy dead friend giving you an ultimatum.

"...your dad could hold off on bottoming for strangers...if...you let him be your submissive little bitch."

The choice is an annoying one, but you're pretty sure you can't let your dad have unprotected sex with strangers in a public place. This is what he'd want right?

"That's what I thought," the grin on your father's face twists maniacally. He tussles your hair like he's the proudest dad in the world, "Let's head on back home, buddy. Daddy's gonna lick every inch of sweat off that body of yours. He's got years of emotional absence to make up for."

One of his beefy arms cradles your back and turns you around. You're relieved to no longer be headed towards the public bathroom, but you're still a little nervous about what awaits you at home. How does Jimmy expect you to enjoy any of this when it's your dad doing all these things to you?

"Daddy's gonna treat you to a night that's all about you," he goes on, "Cooking you dinner, rubbing your feet, cuddling on the couch, and so much more. I want you to think of some humiliating things daddy can do for you while we walk back. Make sure they're extra degrading or your dad will just have to step out of the house and degrade himself where the entire city can see..."

The last comment gives you butterflies in your stomach, but it also gives you a bit of a hard-on. Maybe Jimmy playing with your dad wasn't so scary of an idea after all. With him possessed, anything was on the table: personal affirmations, some much needed bonding, roleplay, revenge, humiliation. Heck, you could even give your father a golden shower and Jimmy would have him smiling through it!

Walking home, you steal glances at your dad, towering over you as his rotund gut leads the way. Home can't come fast enough!

[jaemlonfz]

can u make a whole one shot with the scenario of riding seungkwan while the sunsets ?

ps: i did not review it sorry wc: 0,6k tw: sex obviously, riding, I didn't write until they came, s/o is wearing seungkwan's clothes, do they fuck on the grass?, i think that's it let me know if I forgot something this is so simple and i'm so sorry, i'm def not having the best week writing, it's really not my best work but I did it with a lot of love and i hope you like it, requests are open and you can send what you want

When Seungkwan invited you to spend a few days in the city where he grew up, you never imagined yourself being on top of him. Even though it was to be expected, a couple alone for a few days, all you could think about was Seungkwan showing you the place where he grew up and guiding you around the island.

On the first day you went to small restaurants to eat local food and visit a beach, and in the afternoon when your eyes met the setting sun and Seungkwan noticed your passion for the view he quickly suggested that you wake up early the next morning and enjoy the view from the sun rising together.

At 5 am you were awake, too early for Seungkwan's opinion, but even with you completely drowsy you could see the sparkle in your eye looking forward to see the sky.

With just an old shirt of Seungkwan and his company you went to the backyard. The house was super private, there were tall fences around the yard, soft grass where you lay, and some handmade wooden chairs.

As it was still early, both of them hadn't said much, just mumbling and scratching their sleepy eyes.

Seungkwan wore loose sweatpants and a shirt like yours, he tried to keep his eyes only on the sky, after all the sun was going to come up at any moment, but seeing you in your hometown made his heart flutter in a new way.

Seungkwan didn't have the exact words to explain, but you really fit in with the island air. After several minutes of being watched you finally realized that you were the only one looking at the sky.

"What happened, love?" You mumbled, getting straight, sitting next to your boyfriend looking straight into his eyes.

“You looked great in Jeju, it suits you a lot” He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, then laughed at your rosy cheek. “Sit here” He pointed to his own lap.

“You got dirty in Jeju” You laughed at your own joke placing a leg on either side of Seungkwan.

Soon you leaned into his chest and started kissing and marking his neck. He had you right in his hand. Seungkwan sighed softly while you could feel a volume pressing you between your legs.

“Come on baby, warm me up while the sun rises” He whispered between the messy kiss he was giving you.

Slightly dragging yourself back, you lowered the hem of his sweatpants, without underwear you massaged Seungkwan while dragging your panties to the side. After a few seconds you moaned as you came into contact with your boyfriend completely.

Seungkwan pulsed in you as you tried to simply warm him up and nothing else, but honestly it was really impossible. “Kwannie, let me ride you, please”

You started to move after an affirming kiss from Seungkwan. Even after so many years together, so many nights spent, you still squirmed like it was the first time when Seungkwan was inside you.

Your hips moving back and forth, your chest starting to rise and fall faster and faster, your eyes closed and their cheeks red, your hips rubbing together and their minds grateful for the friction.

“Kwannie…” Even still sleepy you had mindblowing sex with him.

“You are so good to me. so beautiful at sunrise” You would sneak up to kiss his swollen lips

The sun began to rise. The blue of the night began to disapear in the sky while orange began to replace it. The early morning air became a beautiful morning and soon you would hear families starting their day.

You were already distracted approaching the peak, but you still managed to see Seungkwan panting, taking out his cell phone.

Starting to feel dizzy, you heard the sound of a photo being taken and saw Seungkwan's smile reigning across his face.

“My view is so goddamn beautiful, the most precious thing to see”

[cleolinda]

I grew up in a haunted house and I didn’t notice

This is not a story about boo ghosts or shadow people. If it were, I would have figured it out, at least.

When I say "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice," you have to understand that there was a lot going on with this house. It's not the house that I've written about currently living in, the one with newspaper and soda cans stuffed where insulation should have been, the one with constant home-repair calamities. No, my childhood home was a crumbling pile of red brick built in the 1920s. Narnia was in the backyard, and the back deck was my ship on the high seas. The house was surrounded by banks of flowers, lilies and irises and roses, and it was full of creepy shit I didn’t even blink at. I loved it.

It didn't look haunted, or even particularly historical. It was almost disappointingly normal—I lived on a street with a house that had a turret, for God's sake. No, it was just old and small. There's a lot of pre-Depression houses getting torn down in these suburbs; my town has been awash in construction for the last 20-30 years as people buy up cheap old houses, raze them, and squeeze mini-mansions onto their tiny lots, all to get their kids into a good school system. It gives me a chill to think of it, but yeah, that might happen to my childhood home someday, small and plain and unassuming as it is. My pirate ship has already been renovated into an extra bedroom, the new owners told us.

When we moved into the house in 1983, though—it had clearly been renovated in the '60s or '70s; the wallpaper was hideous, and the upstairs bathroom was carpeted. Shag-carpeted. The house had closets the size of shoeboxes; my bedroom, the one with the peach wallpaper, didn't even have one. The room down the hall had four, including one cut into the wall, under a slanted ceiling tucked beneath the roof, that looked like you'd stash a witch there when the Salem HOA came by. There was a fan in the attic—well, first of all, the attic was just one more room on that upstairs floor. It was directly across from the (carpeted) bathroom, and that room (lit by one ominous, hanging bulb) was just a short corridor with storage spaces on either side, hidden behind big sliding doors. And the fan at the very end was built into the brick outer wall of the house. Like our house was functionally open to the elements, between the blades of that fan. I have no idea what the fuck anyone was thinking when they built that, and how the fuck anyone kept the wildlife out.

We certainly couldn't. Squirrels lived in the roof and bowled with acorns. It was like listening to a pinball machine at night. I have an abject horror of cockroaches because sometimes an adventurous one would fall off the ceiling in the middle night, onto me, while I was trying to sleep. (Like, try to imagine that—you’re awakened from a dead sleep by a vague, paper-light skittering sensation up and down your arm. When Pennywise comes to me, he will show up as a cockroach.) But wait! There was more! We had herds of crickets in the basement that felt compelled to jump at people. Sometimes there were centipedes! Those were polite enough to only come out at night. In the dark.

By the way, that basement was totally unfinished. I don't mean that it just had exposed beams or concrete walls. I mean that the basement had uneven, mostly shoulder-high masonry walls, and then it was just open on three sides, extending under the rest of the house. Like just dry red Alabama earth and rocks and grainy dust tumbling around in this vast, dark—it wasn't even a crawl space, a child could have stood upright in it. This child? Oh fuck no. And the washer and dryer were down there. I had to creep down there, down a rickety plank staircase, past the staring dark caverns of my own basement, through a low-lying fog of aggressive crickets, go BEHIND THE STAIRCASE, and then do my laundry there. There was also a firewood pile by an old fridge, and only God knew what was under that.

None of this was haunted. All of this was completely normal to me. This isn't even the haunted part.

So let's go back upstairs. The ground floor was lovely, homey, fine except for the time the living room ceiling fell out due to water damage. Upstairs was where it got weird. I've talked about being mildly bullied as an unknowingly autistic child; home was where I felt safe. In my bedroom upstairs, I had all those My Little Ponies and my easel with all my crayon-drawn fantasy maps and all the stories I wrote. It didn't matter if roaches fell on me in the deeps of the night; home, that's where I was happy. So when I was a young kid and I felt like a vampire was following me down the hall at night, I assumed I was just being silly.

I was aware of vampires in the 1980s as, like, the Count on Sesame Street (ah ah aaah), and Count Chocula, and Count Duckula on Nickelodeon, and the Bunnicula books that I loved. As a kid, I wasn't aware of movies like The Lost Boys or Near Dark, or any vampires that weren't broad caricatures of the Bela Lugosi look. I loved Spooky Stuff—I'm from the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark generation—but vampires didn't scare me.

But when I had to get up in the middle of the night to go down the hall to the (carpeted) bathroom, I always had the sensation that something was following me as I was going back to my room. Something Dark. Not terribly tall, maybe not even much taller than me. And somehow, I visualized this deep in my mind as a vampire. Kind of a silly one, you know, the white-tie formal wear and the ribbon medal and the cape. I wasn't desperately scared that a Chocula was behind me, but I knew that I needed to get back to my room quick, and, at all costs, I must never look back. I must never look over my shoulder or else I would See It, something silly massing in the dark—and, brother, Eurydice would have been safe with me. Never stop running, never look back.

And I'm sure all kinds of kids develop little superstitions like this. It's probably a developmental thing, like having an imaginary friend (which I also had at some point). Even as a seven year old, I was thinking, This is silly, I'm just making it up (but not looking back costs nothing. Not looking at monsters is free). And I continued to think this, until I laughingly told my younger sister this at Sunday Family Dinner one night. We were both in our thirties at that point. And my sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears. And she told me that when she had a bedroom upstairs, there was Something in there.

I won't belabor the exact setup, but at one point, we got it into our heads that we'd like to switch bedrooms, just for a change. I was 14, and I moved to her ground floor bedroom with the flowered white wallpaper and the big bright windows, and she went upstairs and took my room with the peach wallpaper and the cool slanted roof-ceiling (and no closet).

There were three other rooms on that upper floor (and I promise you this is important):

1) One was a small, windowless room that we used as a playroom, with weird cerulean blue carpet and sky blue wallpaper, one dim light fixture, and a little door in the wall that led to dark nothing. Like, you opened it, and you were confronted by a mass of pipes and machinery and just enough space to edge leftwards in the dark. Towards what? Fuck if I know, I sure as hell wasn't going in there. I think it was supposed to be for access to the HVAC system. I don't know. It was fucked. But when I was a young child, I had cooked for my baby dolls at our plastic play kitchen right next to that door, nbd, because apparently you put me in a creepy situation and I just go, yeah, we live like this now.

(I had not ever felt alone in that playroom, but I had also been too young to articulate that. Of course I wasn’t alone! I was with my dolls!)

2) The next room was the (shag-carpeted) bathroom. It had a big mirror over the sink counter, very typical, facing a vertical mirror that was behind the bathroom door. I've heard two mirrors facing each other can create a portal for the spirits, if you believe in that kind of thing. I once did the "Bloody Mary" thing there and nothing happened, idk.

3) The next room was the bedroom with four closets, where an older family member lived with us, and when she moved out, my sister moved to that room.

?) The fourth room, not really a room, was the dark, narrow attic.

So, Grownup Family Dinner at my current house, a few years ago: my sister told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her. I'm not sure if she actually said it lived in the little Hide A Witch closet or if it was just kind of... ambient. I don't know what it looked like, or if we're talking about ghosts or Something... Darker, or what. I don't think she's entirely sure herself. She doesn't like to talk about it in detail a whole lot. What I know is that she felt it was there, and she had chosen that room to sleep in as a young teenager, and not a lot of sleep was to be had.

"I never really sensed anything, like… demonic," I said, puzzled. "Just the Chocula that followed me." And my sister was like, ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF??

"What about Rebecca??" she sputtered.

Oh, yeah: Rebecca. (A name I've changed at my sister's request.) I had a friend as a teenager who liked to mess around with ouija boards (AM I LISTENING TO MYSELF?), and we did a session at her house one time wherein we discovered that the ghost of a girl? young woman? named Rebecca lived (so to speak) at my house, and she had been murdered by her boyfriend. How we arrived at these specifics, I don’t remember, but I had told my sister about it because I thought it was interesting, and also, I was kind of a shit. My friend also decided she had her own ghost named Dusty. It was all one big [citation needed, footage not found], but it was also part of our family lore.

So, many years later, my sister told me that she had long felt—without knowing about the Chocula—that there were two spirits on the upper floor of our childhood home: the dark one, and a younger, lighter one. I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about it.

"You know, I did kind of feel like there was someone up there, when I was a kid," I said. "Sometimes I would go into the attic, and it felt scary, but like there was something there watching that was okay? Like having a lamp on in a dark room, kind of. It’s weird, because it’s just a feeling, I remember it very clearly, but I didn’t really question it or wonder."

I thought a bit more.

"Oh yeah—there was also the time I just really felt compelled to go color in the playroom by myself at midnight, and it kind of felt like someone was there."

My sister stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone "go white" until that moment.

"Yeah, I just woke up and had this idea—I was maybe nine years old? That it would be super cool to do stuff at night when I was supposed to be asleep, so I got a flashlight and went into the playroom—"

"IN THE DARK??"

"Well, yeah. If I had turned on the light, someone would have seen it and told me to go back to bed. So I set this flashlight on the floor and got out the crayons and colored in one of my coloring books a while. Maybe the She-Ra one?"

Thinking back on it now—of course I was sitting right by the scary door. I think we all, you and I, saw that coming.

"And I had the same feeling I had in the attic. Like someone was sitting on the floor across from me, friendly, I guess I would say female, and it was cool. Like, it was chill."

My sister looked like she was about to pass out.

"I don’t really know how I could sense this then but not really say anything about it, or even think about it, until now," I said, shrugging. "I’m probably imagining it."

I’ll throw in here that one of the dolls I had in that room was a Raggedy Ann. Like, just for extra hilarity, Wee Cleo is hanging out, coloring, at midnight, with a ghost and a fuckin’ Annabelle.

So: My sister is adamant that our childhood home was haunted. And apparently I was entirely blasé about it (maybe possessed?), but then, I was dealing with a lot of suburban wildlife. My problems with that house were far more immediate. And crawly. Nor can we prove that the house was haunted—I certainly haven’t looked up any homicide records—and I don’t think that Vibes, In Retrospect, are valid evidence on my part. But I find it interesting that I knew what she was talking about. I find it interesting that I was like, "Yeah, that was chill." And I find it interesting that when I went away to college, and I lived in a dorm suite where sometimes I’d be the only person there while my roommates were out,

I remember noticing that it was the first time I’d ever felt alone in a room.

Who was that imaginary friend I'd had?

--

I asked my sister to read over this, partly because I wanted to see if she’d be willing to describe the Something Dark.

"Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want," she texted back, "but that’s not how it happened."

[blue-aconite]

fields of dandelions || prologue

Summary: Jake's life falls apart in less than an hour and he's left trying his best to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x OC

Authors Note: And we're back with a new series! This has been sitting in my drafts forever and I finally found the motivation to finish off the prologue. I just think the world needs more single dad!Jake, don't y'all agree?

Thank you to my betas @a-reader-and-a-writer & @green-socks and for letting me ramble on about this!

Jake spent a good twenty minutes staring at his own house through the windscreen. He remembered when he and Sarah first bought it. A lot had happened since. And now it looked like it was all coming to an end. 

Sarah was on the phone as he entered the kitchen, talking quietly as she flipped through a magazine. He shoved his hand into the pockets of his jeans, leaning against the doorframe and waiting for her to notice him. When she didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat.

“Sarah.”

She looked up, eyes widening as she saw him. “Jake. I didn’t realise you were going to be home yet.” She ended the call without saying goodbye and Jake noticed how she chose to put the phone with the screen down. 

He gave her a tight smile before sitting down across from her. “Half day. They’re running drills with the kids so Mav sent us home.”

“That’s nice. Did you pick up the boys?”

Jake shook his head. “Javy picked them up. They’re trying out his new pool.” The boys had been on their case since they found out their uncle Coyote was installing a pool in his backyard. 

She hummed but offered no other answer. An uncomfortable silence filled the space, neither of them speaking. Sarah shifted in her seat, eyes darting back and forth between him and her phone. 

Jake felt his stomach turn but decided to jump the gun. “I think we need to talk.”

He had expected some sort of fight, some sort of protest, so when Sarah only sighed and twisted her face in what resembled a smile, it was like a punch to the gut. 

“How did you find out?” she asked, completely unbothered as she inspected her nails. She didn’t bother denying it, even though Jake hadn’t asked about it directly. But it was enough to confirm what Jake already knew but hoped he was wrong about. 

Jake dragged a hand through his hair, baffled at her lack of reaction. “How did I find out? Is that all you have to say?” 

“What do you want me to say?” Sarah shook her head, manicured nails tapping the table. Jake dragged a hand down his face. 

“I want you to say that you didn’t fuck him. That you didn’t invite him into our house while our boys were home. I mean, what the fuck?!” 

If his words affected her, Sarah didn’t show it. She twisted her wedding band round and round, her silence telling him everything Jake needed to know. 

“If you’ve been unhappy -”

“It’s not about that. It’s complicated, Jake.” Sarah sighed. 

Jake scoffed, clearing his throat. “Uncomplicate it for me then. Tell me why I had to find out from our son that you’ve been inviting another man into my house. How many times, huh?”

“How many times what?” she countered, staring at him. Jake could barely recognise his own wife. She didn’t seem to care that their five-year-old had seen her with another man. 

“You know what I’m asking, don’t play dumb. How many times did you bring him here?” Jake pushed away from the table, unable to sit still anymore. Sarah’s disinterest only served to make him more agitated. 

As if his question finally affected her, Sarah looked up at him but her face showed nothing. “Just one time. And the kids were supposed to be asleep.”

“How long?” It hurt to ask but he needed to know. How long had she been cheating on him? He could piece it together, track back to when she started to become distant but he wanted her to admit it. As if it would feel better. 

Sarah pressed her lips together, hands clasped on top of the table. “Couple of months. I don’t know.”

He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Of all the possible scenarios he had of the future when he asked Sarah to marry him after high school, this one had never crossed his mind. How had they ended up here?

“Why? Tell me why.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, Jake gripped the back of the chair he vacated earlier. “Stop saying that. Tell me the truth. If the last 18 years have meant anything to you, you’ll be honest with me,” he paused, drawing a shaky breath. “You owe me that much.”

“I don’t know what to say, Jake! It’s done, okay? I can’t pinpoint the exact fucking moment, alright? One moment everything was alright and then it wasn’t. And he was there for me. Stop questioning me, this isn’t an interrogation.” Sarah spat, anger seeping into her voice.

“No. You don’t get to be angry. You’re the one that fucked up. You do not get to tell me I don’t get to ask questions.” Jake spat back, his own anger surfacing. She had no right to play the victim. 

Sarah rolled her eyes, a humourless laugh leaving her. “Alright, fine. Do you want the truth? I’m so fucking tired of this life. I’m tired of staying home all the fucking time whenever you get deployed, putting my own career on hold for you. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of you. For once, I want to do something for me, have something for myself.” 

“And to achieve that you decided that cheating on me was the best course of action? Why haven’t you talked to me about this?” Jake demands all the anger and hurt clashing together. 

Sarah shakes her head. “Like talking would do any good.”

He thought it would hurt more, to hear that his own wife was tired of him but all he could feel was a numbness spreading through his body. 

The woman sitting in front of him wasn’t his wife, wasn’t the mother of his children. She sounded cold, detached, almost like Jake felt. 

Jake scoffed. “Well, you could have said something, instead of fucking someone else. We could have tried couples therapy -” 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. And now it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.” Sarah interrupted. 

He stared at her, trying hard to remember the girl he once had fallen in love with. But she was nowhere to be found. Instead he saw someone he didn’t even recognised anymore. Sarah stared back, neither of them breaking eye contact. He knew it was the end. She knew it too. 

“Are you leaving?” 

Sarah lowered her gaze back to her hands. “Yes.”

“What about the boys?”

Sarah didn’t say anything. She stayed quiet, once again twisting her wedding band round and round. Jake sat down again, exhaustion seeping into his bones. “Sarah. What about the boys?”

“What about them?” She kept her eyes on her hands, refusing to meet his eye. 

Jake threw his hands up in frustration. “What do we tell them?”

Sarah pulls the wedding band off along with the engagement ring he’d given her all those years ago. He could do nothing but watch as she ended twelve years of marriage right in front of his eyes. Eighteen years together, right down the drain. 

She leaves them laying on the long abandoned magazine and Jake couldn’t make himself pick them up. He didn’t want to touch them. “We need to tell them.”

“They won’t understand,” Sarah argues. 

“So we shouldn’t say anything? They’re old enough to understand that something is wrong. We need to sit down together and talk to them,” he reasons but Sarah seems disinterested in continuing their conversation.

“No. You can tell them whatever you want. I’m not doing this,” Sarah snaps, blindsiding him. What the fuck is she saying?

When he asks her as much, Sarah simply shrugs her shoulders, that cold, hard exterior back in place. “I’m leaving. You can tell them whatever you see fit. It’s honestly not my problem.”

Jake explodes. “You’re not even going to say goodbye? How am I supposed to go pick up our children and explain to them why their mother isn’t home? How is that fair? To me? To them?!” He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. 

The chair scrapes on the floor as Sarah stands and Jake follows suit, anger coursing through his veins. “You can’t just leave.”

Sarah simply levels him with a glare, challenging him to make another move. After a tense minute Sarah folds, shoulders slumping. “Fine. Pick up the boys and we’ll talk.”

“I swear to God, if you’re not here when I get back -”

“I’ll be here,” Sarah promises, sitting back down and flipping the magazine open again. The rings clatter onto the table and down onto the floor but neither of them makes an effort to get them.

As he pulls out of the driveway, Jake prays that she’ll still be there when they get back. He doesn’t believe her but at this point, he doesn’t have a choice. He chooses to believe that she wouldn’t abandon their sons. She might be tired of him, their marriage, but Jake knows Sarah loves Josh and Levi. She wouldn’t just leave. She couldn’t.

After exchanging a few words with Javy and making sure the boys are safely strapped in their seats, Jake rushes back home. He drives slower than he’d like to but with the boys in the car, he’s not willing to risk it. 

Dread fills him when he pulls into the driveway. The garage is open and Sarah’s convertible is gone. After bribing the boys with ice cream if they promise to stay in the car just a little while longer, Jake jogs up the porch, heart sinking in his chest. 

The house is eerily quiet when he steps inside and he berates himself for trusting Sarah to stay true to her word. Because all that is left of the woman he’s loved for eighteen years, the mother of his children, is a note on the fridge.

“Tell the boys I love them.”

Taglist: @wildbornsiren​ @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @top-hhun @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch​ @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster​@notroosterbradshaw​ @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void@bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics​ @septemberrie​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @seresinsweetie​​ @crescentwolf​ @seresinhangmanjake​ @waklman​ @roosterforme​ @rosiahills22​ @dempy​ @i0veless​ @ilovewriting06​ @kmc1989​ @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming

[rzyraffek]

Platonic yandere yautja x child reader if u seen my pride um I recommend it the scene where cub nothing attacks a full grown lion but for this child reader was attacked while with a group of pups and was able to kill a xenomorph with a spear through the head

King i love you but please use punctuation😭

If I understood you correctly, you want dad yautja with kid who managed to kill xenomorph with other yautja pups? I hope I understand that right👽😊

I used y/n for kid cuz its easier to write that way, plus i used they/them!

Yautja dad with human kid (they whooped xenomorph)

First of all "WHERE WERE YOU, WITH WHO, WHY YOU BEEN OUTSIDE FOR SO LONG, I TOLD YOU NOT TO HANG OUT WITH OTHER PUPS SO MUCH, WHY DIDINT YOU TELL ME, I WAS SO WORRIED OMG" typical controlling/overprotective perent questions🥱

Dude litteraly banned them from going outside for good month or two

I mean yeah cool cool you- YOU WHAT??? YOU KILLED WHO? W- WHAT

Dude needs proof

But if he saw y/n with yautja pups acually killing that thing? Hes proud and dead at the same time. Like omg yay my baby killed something yay⭐but at the same time OH MY STARS YOU COULD DIE SO MANY TIMES

Hangs xeno head in middle of livingroom so everyone that walks in sees it😊 he is a proud dad

But it doesnt change the fact that you litteraly can't go outside without him around

He also kinda dislikes y/n friends??? Like "ugh really kid? You are hanging out with those bab troublesome pups? You know you can do better? Just stay with me"

Hes jelous and upset that first hunt kid had was with their friends, not him😭

Everytime you guys hang out with other yautjas he gives y/n's friends a death stare

Of course hes proud that his lil baby menaged to hunt down A FUCKING XENOMORPH, he will purr. The issue is that he cant help but imagine what could happen.

Heres little extra, i never write this type of stuff but im bored atm. Tw toxic behaviour?:

Y/n wanted to show off what they hunted with their friends, but the corpse too heavy to carry, so kid just goes to their home, walks up to their dad and tells him that they have gift for him but its outside. They grab his hand and lead him outside, he didnt expect few young yautjas poking dead xenomorph in his backyard for sure. He yells that they should stay away and he pulls put his weapon. He has so many questions all starting with "why", "how" and "when"???

After making sure that the thing is dead and his child didnt suffer any wounds he turns to other pups and starts scolding them, how dumb they are to bring a human pup on a hunt?? Dont they know how dangerous it is.

He would probably yell at them forever if not y/n stepping in and trying to explain that y/n was acually attacked and pups helped, yautjas wanted only good. He kinda didn't expect that, you? His own kid? Stepping in and protecting other people from him? He should be the one viewed as the one whos right and the one you always go for advice! So yeah he didnt take that well. Of course he tried to keep cool around those young hunters but o my god after they went away? Omg expect a lot of offended and angry dad behaviour, he gives them silent treatment for few days or is just simply passive agressive

After all y/n just wanted to feel like rest of their friends. And ironically enough the only one treating y/n like human is her own dad

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 12,165

Rating: NSFW, plain and simple. (the version of Frankie in this comes with his own warning but I don't wanna spoil anything yet so... you'll see.)

Summary: After suggesting that Frankie take you back to his place, the two of you change the terms of your still very new friendship.

But it's fine, you're both adults and can handle a one-off, right?

Author’s note:

This isn't my typical slow burn, and you're all welcome for that. There's a lot of smut, a lot of plot, and maybe even some foreshadowing in here. Hope you like it.

If you ever want to talk about this - or any of my work - my inbox is always open. Enjoy.

Side note: there will be a slight delay with chapter 4 since I'm planning on finishing some Oberyn and Joel before I jump back into this one full force. I hope you understand.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

Frankie led you up a single step and onto an expansive covered porch complete with furniture and a swing, a string of lights that criss-crossed the underside of the roof bathing you in light. “I hung those.” He pointed up with his free hand. “Pope helped, but …” 

“It’s nice.” You squeezed his hand, nodding. “I saw some in the backyard, too. Did you guys put those up?”

“Mmmhmm.” He typed a code into the door and the lock popped open, Frankie releasing your hand and then settling his on your shoulder. “We can go and sit out there if you want.” 

He’s asking me if I want to sit outside right now? Really? “Maybe some other time.” He pushed gently on your back, urging you into the house. “Right now I’ve got something else in mind.” 

“Me too.” He murmured the words as you both stepped into the living room, soft light spilling down the hallway from in the kitchen to partially illuminate the space. A fireplace? In Florida? “A couple things, actually.” Turning to face him, you tilted your head, waiting. “‘Scuse me.” Frankie reached past you and pushed the door shut, the lock clicking into place - though the position meant that he was much closer to you than he had been at any point that night. “What are your rules?” 

“What?” The question took you by surprise - even though you appreciated him asking. “Rules? What do you mean?” 

“Well I brought you here which means that you don’t have a car. So I’d rather know what your boundaries are now and not … in the middle of things or after when it might get weird.” He’s considerate. He looks like that and he’s … fuck. 

“I don’t know.” Biting the inside of your lip, you eyed him. “What are yours?” 

“No visible marks on my face or body.” He stepped slightly closer, reaching up to run his fingertips along your cheek. “I don’t really mind, but it’s not good for work.” You nodded, because it made sense, but you were still intrigued at the fact that he didn’t mind. “I don’t care what kind of birth control you’re on, I always use a condom.” Lips parting in surprise, you nodded again. Ok, I like that. “If you don’t like something that’s happening, tell me. Don’t wait.” 

“Frankie, I -” You shook your head. How many one night stands does he have if he’s got this many rules? For the first time, you began to doubt your decision, mouth opening to tell him - and then you decided to ask instead. “Do you do this often? You seem prepared?”

“Not often, no.” He was watching you closely, very little space between you. “But this is a special case.” You didn’t understand, your open mouth turning into a frown that Frankie correctly interpreted almost right away. “I don’t usually hook up with … potential clients.” He laughed quietly, taking a long breath. “And I don’t want to scare you away.” He rubbed his thumb gently over your lips, the pad of it pressing against the center of your bottom one. “But I really want to fucking kiss you right now, so -”

You moved first, hands reaching out to grip the material of his shirt to pull him as close as you could. “Then why don’t you?” 

He used his hands to brace his weight - palms flat on the door just above your shoulders - and then Frankie’s mouth met yours with a low growl, the sound vibrating from his throat and against your lips. You gasped when he made contact, fingers tightening against his shirt - but then you stopped thinking. 

Frankie kissed you hard, lips pressed firmly against your mouth, the back of your head hitting the door with a quiet thunk. You sighed, eyes closed, and then slid your hands around to his back, pressing them against his spine and urging him even closer. 

He let you, his hips rocking forward - and when they did, you felt that he was stiffening beneath the jeans he wore, the man not shy about letting you know it. 

Instead of backing away, Frankie’s tongue licked at the seam of your lips, and you didn’t hesitate to part them for him. The kiss turned hungry, and even though you had no desire to break it and ask, it seemed like he’d wanted to do it for a while - the movement of his mouth against yours certain, one hand sliding between the back of your head and the door to cradle it. Fuck. How is he … this is … 

You couldn’t form a coherent thought, and even when he pulled back to take a breath, that remained true. “Wanted to do that since I saw you sitting at that bar.” He spoke quietly, voice husky, the man’s breath fanning over your cheek. “Didn’t think I’d get to though.” 

“Makes two of us.” Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes, saying his name. “I think I have a rule.” 

“Yeah?” He straightened up, hand still in place and both of yours dropping to settle against his narrow hips. “What?” 

“You need to do that as often as you want.” The smile on his face was radiant, Frankie’s eyes widening as you met his gaze. “Because you’re fucking good at it.” 

“I’m good at other things, too.” He blinked slowly, never looking away from you. “You interested in finding out what they are?” 

“I am.” Nodding, you smiled at him. “But first…” Trailing off, you pulled him closer again, tipping your head so that you could press a kiss to the man’s bearded jawline. “C’mere.” He turned his head enough to kiss you again and that one was slower and more reserved, Frankie letting you take the lead and set the pace. 

You bit gently on the man’s lower lip and then followed it with suction, drawing it between your lips - and Frankie rewarded you with a quiet moan, fingers curling against the back of your head as he chased the kiss. You took that as an invitation, one of your hands rising from his hip to the side of his face, fingertips trailing up and over his sideburn and then moving into his hair, following the curls as they curved over his ear. 

It was just as soft as you’d expected it to be, the strands slipping through your fingers. And when you tugged on them, changing the angle of your kiss and causing his lips to part and give you an opening, Frankie sighed, the man nodding twice without pulling away. He likes it. The kiss deepend again, slow strokes of your tongue against his, Frankie returning the gesture and drawing your lip between his teeth before he released it, his mouth sliding over to the corner of yours and pressing a kiss there, too. 

It was surprisingly intimate, especially for two people that didn’t know each other, and when he backed away and gave you a few seconds to collect your thoughts, you were breathing hard. “You alright?” He met your eyes, brow furrowed. “I -” 

“I am. Are you?” Scratching your nails along his scalp, you wet your lips. “You gave me the option to stop earlier… you know you have the same option too, right?”

“Not happening.” He smiled briefly and then swallowed, exhaling. “No way in hell.” You laughed, closing your eyes, and while they were shut, Frankie leaned in and spoke directly into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “You’re gonna have to let me go so I can get your clothes off.” I am, aren’t I. 

Blinking rapidly, you used both hands to push him away from you and then reached for your shirt’s hem, fingers closing around the material. There was space between you - but not much, and all he had to do was raise his hands and he was touching you again. His fingers closed around your wrists and squeezed. “Wait.” Voice low, Frankie cleared his throat. “Let me.” 

You had no problem with that, letting go of the material and mouthing the word ok, Frankie’s hands releasing your wrists and replacing yours on your shirt. He eased it up your body, revealing your skin inch by inch, and when you had to, you lifted your arms over your head eyes on him. “You’re going so slow, Frankie. Wh-”

“I only get to do this once, and I’m gonna enjoy it.” Glancing up, he winked. “Patience.” You closed your eyes and bit down on your lip, fighting back a whimper. He knows what he’s doing. He’s so fucking good at this, how is he single? When he rid you of your shirt, instead of tossing it across the room like you expected, he reached over and set it on a small side table you hadn’t noticed earlier.  “Oh, shit.” 

He spoke so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, the man’s hands returning to your body and roaming over your newly exposed skin. He started with your sides, large palms settled against your ribs before one hand slid around to your back, easing you away from the door and further into the room. “Hmm?” You questioned with a quiet hum and a raised brow. “Frankie?” 

He didn’t say anything, instead continuing to explore you with both hands, the man’s touch much lighter than you expected. He wasn’t shy, though, holding you close and ducking his head down to kiss the top of your shoulder at the same time his hand slid beneath the band of your bra, fingers splayed wide. 

Frankie’s teeth grazed your shoulder and then you gasped in surprise when he took your bra strap between them and pulled, letting it snap back, the sting shocking you enough that your hold on him tightened. He laughed at that, turning his head so that he could nose at your neck, the man inhaling deeply before he kissed you there. He worked his way up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake before moving across your cheek and back to your mouth. You gasped when you felt your bra loosen, Frankie’s hand deftly undoing it while he was otherwise occupied, and when you backed away in shock, he was grinning. “I told you I’m good with my hands.” 

“You did.” Pulling out of his hold entirely, you reached up and removed the material, letting it drop to the floor. “Now there’s nothing in your way.” You kept your eyes on him as he took the sight of you in - his gaze dropping from your face to your chest and lingering, the man’s fingers flexing at his sides. “Are you going to touch me, Francisco?” Flexing your shoulders, you waited. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Where?” He put a hand on his hip and grinned, gesturing at you with his other hand. “Because I still see plenty in the way.” 

“You’re fully dressed.” Leaning back against the door, you crossed your arms over your chest. “So -” 

“I know.” He scratched the side of his head, still staring at you. “But that doesn’t change anything. You’ve still got those jeans on, and …” He arched a brow, pressing his lips together. “And I’d like to change that.” 

You didn’t know what you’d expected - with all of your other hookups, it had been quick and simple; fumbling in the dark, just enough foreplay to get both of you involved and ready, a few kisses here and there to make things less awkward. But with Frankie, a hookup was more - more involved, more thought out, more interesting, and you had no desire for it to be over quickly. Even if the sex isn’t good, because this is … this is great. 

“No one’s stopping you.” You looked past him, eyes moving toward the hallway. “Where’s the bedroom, though? Shouldn’t we -” 

“If you want to get into a bed, we can.” He stepped closer again, his hands going back to your waist and resting just above the top of your jeans. “But we need to go now, because …” He unbuttoned them, both hands working to pull the sides apart and lower the zipper. “Because I want you, and I -” 

You made the decision for him, stepping out of his hold and then around the man, heading for the space in front of the fireplace. There was a couch and a loveseat, along with a recliner tucked into the corner, but you didn’t choose any of those. Instead, you kicked off your shoes and then stepped onto the rug that covered part of the hardwood floor, turning back to face Frankie. “How’s here?” 

He crossed the room without speaking, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again. I guess that means this is alright. Bodies pressed together, you and Frankie stood there - his hands dropping, fingers dipping between your jeans and skin and then tugging, the man easing the last clothing you wore down your legs. He’s going to need help. He’s going to need me to… 

But your thoughts stopped when Frankie broke the kiss, sliding his hands back to your sides and kissing your chin before he moved down further, to your collarbone. He didn’t stop there, though, bending forward and mouthing at the top of one breast, the short hair of his beard tickling your skin. You laughed at the feeling, both hands reaching for Frankie’s head and massaging your fingers through his curls - and he seemed to like it. 

He bit you at the first touch of your fingers, the man’s teeth latching onto you for a few seconds before he released your skin, his mouth moving even lower and to your nipple. “Fuck, Frankie.” Your voice was low - almost a whisper - and when he sucked, you whimpered, your back arching to press yourself further into his mouth, Frankie’s fingers digging into your skin as he held you in place. 

He didn’t stay there long, either, releasing you with a pop and then glancing up, a smirk on his lips when he met your eyes. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” Are you? What are … 

Frankie lowered himself to his knees in front of you without breaking eye contact, both hands gliding down your body until he got to your jeans - and pushed them the rest of the way down. 

He finally looked away when he dropped his gaze to your lower legs, the man working quickly to rid you of the denim you wore, but your eyes were locked on him - on the crown of his head, the silver strands in his hair visible even in the dim light, on the slope of his shoulders, on the way his fingers deftly wrapped around one ankle and then the next to steady you  - and you realized that your heart was pounding against your ribcage in anticipation. 

“Frankie, you don’t have to -” 

“I know.” He looked up again, the man’s breaths slow and deep. “I want to.” You felt his fingertips running up the backs of your legs before he squeezed your thighs, nodding. “That alright?” 

“Yes.” You didn’t recognize your voice when you gave your answer because it was breathy and full of need - Frankie’s eyes flashing at your permission. But I can’t let this get too serious because it’s supposed to be … fun. “Are …” Clearing your throat to steady yourself, you slid your thumb over his cheek. “Are your knees as bad as Pope’s? Because if they are, that can’t be a comfortable position for you and -” 

Frankie’s laugh caught you by surprise. 

It was a full sound, the man closing his eyes and tipping his head back, fingers tightening further against you. “They’re fine.” He licked his lips again, locking eyes with you. “I’ll prove it right now.” 

You had few doubts about that, even after only knowing him for a few hours. But when Frankie returned his attention to your body, they all but disappeared. He leaned in, tilting his head to the side and settling his mouth just below the cut of your underwear on one thigh and let his lips linger there, both thumbs circling slowly on your legs. 

That motion continued even as he moved his mouth, lips occasionally replaced by a gentle drag of his teeth as they grazed your skin. “You’re teasing, Frankie.” Carding through his hair, you tugged on it to get his attention. “Please, just…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for; it was clear that he had a plan and was just taking his time getting there. “Fuck, I don’t even…” 

Trailing off, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, the strands of his hair still slipping through your fingers as he kissed his way over your skin. 

Moving his hands up a few inches, Frankie spread his fingers wide, taking you in hand - and then he squeezed again at the same time as he finally pressed a kiss to your covered mound, the pressure of his lips firm. At the contact, your hips jerked forward, toes curling against the carpeted floor. He kissed you again, hands moving a little higher, and when his fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear and started to pull it down, you spread your legs a few inches, making it easier for him to lower them. 

He backed off while he finished undressing you, easing the damp material down your legs until it dropped to the floor and you kicked them off to one side. “Look at you.” He groaned, replacing his hands on the outside of your thighs. “Fuck.” It made you smile, but that expression left your lips the moment he kissed your skin again - the man’s lips soft and warm, his mustache tickling you just enough to make you sigh. 

Frankie didn’t go straight for it, though, continuing to tease you with quick kisses and short licks, his tongue dragging over your skin in a maddening pattern. He glanced up at you once, too, making eye contact - and though you didn’t know him well you could see amusement in his eyes and feel the way he grinned against your skin at whatever expression he’d found on your face. 

You fought to keep your composure, but when he touched you for the first time, you had to admit that it was a losing battle. Using both thumbs, he spread you open, the roughened pads pressed to your damp skin - giving him unrestricgted access. And Frankie wasted no time then, mouth landing exactly where he meant it to only moments later. 

The first contact was a kiss, but that moved almost immediately into a series of slow licks, the man’s tongue flat as he probed at your skin. He was unhurried, though, focused on what he was doing and taking his time, each pass of the muscle moving a little lower. You widened the spread of your feet without him asking, rising onto your toes briefly when Frankie’s tongue breached your entrance for the first time, but that was short lived, the man squeezing your leg and backing away. 

“You’re gonna lose your balance that way.” He grinned up at you as he licked his lips clean, thoughtfully drawing his lower one between his teeth. “Relax.” 

“You’re telling me to relax when you’ve got that mouth all over me, Frankie.” Rolling your eyes, you glanced down at where he was still touching you. “I don’t think you understand what -”

“No, I do.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue out and against you twice. “I really do.” The angle was off - you weren’t quite tall enough to give him the best angle, but that didn’t stop Frankie from continuing what he was doing, both eyes closing as he savored the taste of you through long, thorough licking and more focused suction, the tip of his tongue flicking against you over and over. 

But what you weren’t prepared for was the removal of one hand from your leg followed by the drag of his knuckles against the space below his mouth. You moaned at that - the sound loud, but it only encouraged him, Frankie rotating his wrist and then circling his fingertips against your opening before pushing two of them slowly in. 

It was a lot - his fingers were thick, but he didn’t rush anything and his mouth had done a lot of work to get you ready. Holy fuck, he … he’s … You didn’t know how to complete the thought, because as he continued to work you over with his mouth, he sunk both fingers in, pausing before withdrawing them. You spoke his name again - just a whisper - but it was all he needed, Frankie repeating the upward thrust of his fingers and changing the position of his mouth on you. 

You were gripping his hair with both hands, urging him to stay in place, but when he paused and backed off before he’d taken you too far, you didn’t stop him, instead using the break to take a long, shuddering breath. “You’re good at that.” Biting your lip, you nodded. “Really good. Like -”

“Glad you enjoyed.” He smiled up at you, the expression lazy, even as he continued to pump his fingers into your body, though his pace slowed. “You’ll enjoy it more when you’re layin’ down, though.” Does that mean he wants me to lay down? Does that mean he wants to do this again? I …. “Come ‘ere.” Slowly, the pulled his fingers from you, curling them as he withdrew and then settled back, taking a long breath and patting his thigh. 

On slightly shaky legs, you did as he asked - lowering yourself down to straddle his thighs, both arms winding around his neck as his looped around your waist. “How are you going to fuck me if you’re still fully dressed, Frankie?” Resting your forehead against his, you wrinkled your nose. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t -” 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered the reply, the certainty in his voice settling you down as he kissed your cheek and then turned his attention to your ear. “Lay down.” You wanted him to kiss you but didn’t press it, instead climbing off of him and slowly reclining onto the rug, though you rolled onto one side and propped yourself on one elbow, watching him. 

He stood moments later, undoing his belt buckle and then the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down his thighs to remove them. That left him only in his underwear, an impressive bulge visible in the front and equally impressive thighs testing the elasticity of the leg openings below. Frankie pulled his wallet out before dropping the jeans, flipping it open and pulling out a condom package and then letting the leather bundle fall to the floor. He held it out to you and you took it, fingers brushing his as yours curled around the foil square, but your eyes were on Frankie and the way he used his other hand - the one he’d touched you with - to adjust himself through the material, squeezing through the cotton. 

You wanted to taste him, too - to know what the weight of him felt like against your tongue, to run your tongue over his head and tease him the way he’d teased you. Maybe later. Right now he looks like he just … Frankie eyed you with a hunger you hadn’t ever seen in someone so soon after meeting them before. But instead of worrying you, it made your stomach flip, desire surging through your body. Because if he’s looking at me that way, then he’s going to do something about it, and … 

He tugged once more on himself and then with a quick shake of his head, pulled his underwear off, tossing it to the side. He was still wearing his shirt, the thin material hanging down to his lower belly, but you only considered that for a few seconds. Because he … damn. 

Frankie’s fingers wrapped around his length again almost right away, but instead of using his clean hand to stroke himself, he used the other one, your slick easing the glide of his fingers. Fuck it. Fuck it, I … “Get down here.” You didn’t mean to make it sound like such an order, but he did as you asked immediately, lowering himself back onto his knees and then crawling toward you, eyes locked on your face. 

He covered your body with his, easing you onto your back and letting his weight rest atop yours, the man’s arousal hot where it pressed against your thigh. “How do you want me?” You’d assumed that he would just want basic sex - that you’d end up on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked you, and you told him as much. “I can do that.” He reached for your hand, taking the condom and tearing it open. “But I had something else in mind.” 

Frankie rolled onto his back and then deftly put the condom on, your attention on the way his fingers looked rolling the thin material down and over his length before he squeezed the base, hissing in pleasure. “What’s that?” 

He turned his head and looked at you, saying your name. “Get on top … just for a second.” It shocked you - Frankie willingly giving you the power - but you didn’t question it, scrambling onto your knees and then into position, straddling him again with your hands on his abdomen. “Go slow.” 

Nodding, you did as he said - rising to your full height and scooting down so that you were hovering over where he held himself, the man’s eyes focused on the place where your bodies would join. “I will.” You looked down, biting your lip. “Not for long though, because fuck, Frankie, you keep telling me you’re going to enjoy this, but -” Stop talking. 

You let out a slow breath when you lowered your body, feeling the broad tip of him as it touched you and then slipped inside. Letting out a gasp, you tipped your head back and stared at the ceiling, mouth hanging open with each little bit of him that you accepted into yourself. 

He was murmuring words of praise as you moved; telling you that you were doing great, that you looked fucking incredible on top of him, that you felt good around him… but all you were focused on was the way that Frankie filled you up, inch by inch. You took him slowly, finally bottoming out and letting yourself relax for a few seconds. Neither of you moved, though you did look down at the man again, noticing that his fingers were curled into fists, the Frankie’s mouth hanging open slightly as he watched you. 

“That slow enough?” You couldn’t resist teasing him, and when all you got out of him was a tight nod, the man’s jaw ticking as he stared up at you, you decided it was your turn to tease him. Rocking your hips back and forth, you sighed and then closed your eyes, fingers curling against the material of his shirt. “Need to feel you, Frankie. I need to move. I -”

“Do it.” That was little more than a low growl, his hands flying up from the floor to grip your hips, the man guiding you into a slow rhythm that moved you up and down, your body’s accommodation of him easing by the second. And then it was your turn to praise him - eyes squeezed shut as you rode him, the muscles in your thighs tensing with each bounce. You told him that he felt good, that he filled you perfectly, that you’d never felt anything like him - and with each phrase, Frankie’s hold on you tightened, his hips rising just enough to meet yours on every downstroke and change the way he felt inside you. 

You wouldn’t come that way - there was no real friction or pressure where you needed it most, but to your surprise, the thought that you’d ride him all night even if it meant you’d never finish crossed your mind, the fact that it was the truth registering only moments later. Uh oh. Eyes flying open, you looked down and met his gaze, the man staring directly at you. 

There was a half smile on his face at first, but at the expression on yours, that look changed, Frankie blinking twice and murmuring your name. “What’s wrong?” 

“Too much.” The words slipped out, but as he heard them, he stopped moving entirely, his grip on you loosening. “I need you to fuck me, Frankie. Not like this. Not like it’s -” Familiar. Not like it means anything. 

“Alright.” He nodded then, jerking his chin and taking a deep breath. “Ok.” You climbed off of him, biting back a sigh at the loss of him as he slipped out, and moved to kneel next to him on the carpet, your lips pressed together.  He moved quickly, opening up more space for you and then gesturing with the hand that wasn’t slowly stroking himself.  “However you -”

You made the decision as he spoke, getting onto your hands and knees and then glancing back over your shoulder at him. “How’s this?” You had no doubt that it would be a good position for him, and almost knew that he wouldn’t oppose it, but part of you wondered why you felt that it was necessary. Because it’s less intimate this way. “Frankie?” Speaking softly, you shifted on your knees, watching his gaze drop and then rise back to meet yours. “Yeah?” 

“Y…yeah.” He swallowed, nodding and then moved into place behind you. “Spread your legs a little more for me, though.” You widened the set of your knees and then turned your head forward, closing your eyes and blowing out a breath as he put both hands on you, palms flat and fingers spread wide, the tips of them curling over your thighs. Alright. Alright this is - 

But you were unprepared for the feeling of his mouth on you from behind - first the press of his lips and then the drag of his tongue, slow and steady. Oh, shit. You whimpered, the sound escaping before you could stop it, but even more telling was the way your back arched, hips jerking toward the man’s mouth as you sought out more. 

He backed off, his exhale warming your slick skin, and then you felt him steady your hip with one hand, followed by the nudge of him against you. “Oh, fuck.” He spoke so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but when Frankie pushed back inside, the glide of him eased through you by your body’s response to his, you heard that reaction, the man swearing loudly and then using both hands to hold your hips in place as he began to thrust. 

It was better from that angle - the power behind each movement of his hips apparent, Frankie setting a pace that felt amazing and allowed you to feel every inch of him with every snap of his hips. And his hold on you never wavered, even when you began to pant, every exhale accompanied by a tiny whine as your fingers curled into the fibers of the carpet, giving you something to hold on to. 

He filled you - over and over, his grip tightening but not to the point of pain, and when you moaned out his name, turning your head to the side and peeking behind you at him, your entire body shivered at what you saw. 

He was still fully upright, the man’s head tilted to the side and his eyes on you - the lids hooded and one long lock of hair hanging down over his eye. His lip was curled, mouth set into a smirk that was part amusement and part effort - and it was one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen. 

As much as you were enjoying the position - and could tell that Frankie was, too, part of you regretted asking him to move, regretted the loss of contact and the ability to watch him. But it’s better this way. It makes more sense this way. He’s going to get off, and then I’ll - 

You felt his hand moving, sliding from your hip and around to the front of your body. Then only moments later, the man touched you, two fingers sliding over your skin and then lower, between your legs where they parted, Frankie letting himself feel where he was entering you. “Gonna help you out now, alright?” He sighed and then groaned, slowing down the movement of his hips as he pulled out and then sunk back in, the pressure of his fingers increasing. “Can you sit up?” Wait, what?  But you did as he asked, pushing yourself upright, hands hanging by your sides - and waiting. 

The new angle changed his depth, but Frankie never stopped moving, the motion of his hips becoming a slow roll instead of deep thrusts, and without thinking, you leaned back, shoulders pressed to his chest and your head tilted to rest against his shoulder. Instinctively, you arched your back again, hips pushed backward and against his. Frankie hummed at that, the man turning his head to nuzzle at the side of yours, his fingers still slowly circling against you. “That feels fucking amazing.” 

You closed your eyes, reaching back with one hand and setting your hand on the side of his leg, the man’s muscles flexing beneath your touch. “Yeah? You feel fucking amazing.” His free hand moved from your hip to your stomach, resting there for the span of a few thrusts, and then it glided upward, his large palm sliding between your breasts and then over the left one, lingering on the swell of it before coming to rest over your heart. “Relax. I’ve got you.” 

He spoke into your ear, and you did what he said, letting your weight rest against him and in his hold, your eyes closing and lips falling open. The hand not on his leg moved up and into his hair, your fingers combing through the damp curls … and then they stayed there, even as Frankie’s mouth began to move against your cheek and jaw. 

He sped up the motion of his hips, setting a different pace than he had with the movement of his fingers. After only a few seconds, you realized how close you were - and how much you wanted to come with him deep inside you. Because he won’t be far behind. And that … oh, fuck, that will… 

You pressed yourself harder against him, meeting his hips with small backwards thrusts of your own, and when you felt him nod you smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. It was building - pressure and heat low in your belly, every motion of Frankie’s sending a jolt through you. When your thigh muscles tensed, followed by a slight curling of your toes and a quiet whimper, you knew that you were about to fall - and it was all because of him. 

It washed over you slowly, Frankie’s pace never faltering even as your body squeezed him, hips jerking back erratically and your grip on his hair tightening. You couldn’t help the way the edges of your nails dug into the meat of his thigh, your mouth falling open into a soundless gasp. He curled the fingers on your chest and groaned, turning his head again and speaking into your ear, his voice low and deep. “That’s it. Give it to me.” 

Normally, you weren’t a fan of much talking during sex; a few words here and there were fine, but in your experience, the talk came with familiarity, and since you weren’t typically close with the people you slept with, it always felt forced and unnecessary. But I’d listen to him recite the phone book in bed if he wanted to. You hummed in agreement, nodding twice as your body - and his - continued to work you through your orgasm, muscles tensing and loosening around him while he continued to move behind you. “Could say the… mmm, could say the same to you, Frankie.” 

He laughed at your words, but he wasn’t laughing at you - instead he turned it into a groan and then pulled his hand from between your legs, moving it up and pressing it against your lower abdomen. “Yes, ma’am.” You sucked in a breath at the address and then Frankie was moving faster again, the snap of his hips and the stretch of him inside you reminding you of the fact that he was filling you, over and over, the man showing no sign of fatigue, even after the varied positions and the need for him to partially support your weight. 

His breath faltered moments later, the man’s grunt loud, and then you moaned at the feeling of Frankie’s teeth on your neck, the man biting hard at the same time his arms tightened around you. He released your skin after only a few moments, soothing the sting with the press of his lips, but you barely felt it - instead focused on the way the stuttering of his hips and his hold felt. The thinness of the condom he chose allowed you to feel every twitch of his muscles, Frankie growing harder inside of you as he came. 

He finally stopped moving though he didn’t release you, the man’s hips flush with the backs of your thighs. You didn’t even try to hide the smile on your face as your grip on him loosened, arms dropping into a more relaxed position even though your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He was breathing hard, too, and when Frankie did release you, you tipped your head back and blew out a long breath. 

He pulled out slowly soon after, another quiet grunt the only noise you heard, and when he backed away, you relaxed, lowering yourself so that you were sitting on the floor, leaning to the side with your bent legs beneath you. Well that was… You heard him moving behind you, and then only a few seconds later, a soft blanket was draped over your shoulders and he said your name. “C’mon, let me show you where the bathroom is.” 

Turning your head, you watched as he wrapped a smaller blanket around his waist, the man’s eyes locked on you. Yeah, that’s … a good idea. You were still dazed, but even more surprised when he reached out with one hand to take yours and help you to your feet, Frankie’s fingers closing around yours. “Thank you. I -”

“Lemme see.” He reached for you with his other hand, tilting your head so that he could see the place on your neck where his teeth had been. “I didn’t break the skin, did I?” 

“No. What? You didn’t bite that hard.” Laughing it off, you rolled your eyes. “I’m fine, Frankie. I actually … I liked that.”

“Can’t lose control, though.” He frowned, eyes on your skin. “Coulda hurt you… and then how would you have explained that to anyone you see in the next couple days?” No, you couldn’t. 

“You didn’t.” Reaching out, you cupped his cheek in one hand, forcing him to look at you. “No harm done, and it was hot as fuck, so…” He gave you a tiny smile at that, some of the worry leaving his eyes. “Show me where this bathroom is, yeah?” 

He led you down the hall, flipping the light switch on and telling you that you could use anything you needed, and then Frankie turned again, heading toward what you assumed was his bedroom. Closing the door, you turned to face the sink and gave yourself a few seconds to stare at your reflection, trying to get your bearings. 

Your eyes were bright, and though you couldn’t see it beneath the blanket he’d given you, you knew that your chest was still rising and falling rapidly, your body coming down from the act of being with him. He’s good. He’s really good. I enjoyed that. Closing your eyes, you let the blanket fall and gripped the edge of the sink, sighing. Don’t get used to it. You’re only going to be here for a little while. 

You did what you needed to do; used the bathroom, washed your face, took a capful of the mouthwash in the medicine cabinet, and then bent over, wrapping yourself in the blanket again before heading back into the living room to collect your clothes. 

Frankie was still gone, and even though you gave yourself a moment to stare at the place on the carpet you’d just occupied, you were already sitting and pulling your underwear back on when he finally did reenter the room, the man wearing a pair of sleep pants and the same long sleeve shirt he’d had on previously. “You don’t need to get dressed, unless you want me to take you back to the hotel tonight.” 

“You want me to sleep naked?” Glancing up at him, you arched a brow. “Seems kind of unfair since you didn’t even take off all your clothes earlier.” 

“Yeah, about that.” He wrinkled his nose, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. “There’s a reason, and when you see it, you’ll understand.” You were intrigued, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and so you stayed quiet, eyeing him. “I’m serious, though. I don’t have much to offer you to sleep in, but if you sleep in those pants, you won’t be comfortable.” 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Yes.” There was no hesitation on his part, Frankie gesturing toward you with one hand. “Only if you want to, though.” You did - very much - and so you stood, walking to where he was waiting. “We’ll grab something to drink and then head to my room, and I’ll show you why I didn’t take my shirt off.” 

— 

A few minutes later, you and Frankie were in his room, glasses of water sitting on coasters on the small tables on either side of his bed. He’d explained a little to you about the house - that he’d bought it when he and his ex had split for good, that he hadn’t looked at too many before making the decision, and that it was a constant work in progress - but he’d sidestepped the mystery of his shirt, and it wasn’t until you were already in bed and under the blanket, your bare back resting against the wooden headboard that he brought it up again. 

“It’s going to sound selfish.” He stood on your side of the bed, looking down. “But I was pretty focused when we first got back here, and I didn’t want to … waste time.” Waste time? What? “Everyone always asks questions when they see it for the first time, and …” 

He moved as he spoke, reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and then pulling it over his head, letting the thin material fall to the floor. “Holy fuck, Frankie.” Scrambling onto your knees, you made sure to hold the blanket over your bare chest, eyes on his arm. “That’s what you were hiding?” 

“Yeah.” He moved closer, holding it out toward you. “Go ahead, you can touch it.” He didn’t need to tell you twice, and only moments later, you were running your fingertips over the intricately inked designs on his arm, unsure of where to focus. Jesus, this is beautiful. “I got it after I retired from the military for good.” He cleared his throat, continuing. “We um … we all got somethin’, just to remind us that we were in some deep shit together.” He pointed at a spot on his bicep, your eyes moving to it. “For our unit.” 

“But you have a sleeve, Frankie. Do the other guys? No, because I saw Will and Tom’s arms, so…” He laughed, shaking his head, even as you continued to trace the lines of the tattoo. 

“No. Everyone else’s is pretty small. Benny’s is on his chest. Ironhead’s got his on his side. Pope’s is on the back of one leg. Redfly’s is on his shoulder.” You hummed in appreciation, eyes scanning the man’s arm. It was covered with navigational objects - maps and a compass, what looked like an instrument panel, a helicopter and even a biplane. You even saw a mountain range and a few sets of coordinates, along with Roman numerals hidden in amongst the other elements. “I made mine bigger because I was tryin’ to hide something.” 

Your fingers found it as he spoke again, your thumb rubbing slowly over what felt like thick scar tissue on the inside of his forearm, the uneven lines covering an area of a few inches. You felt a wave of unease as you explored, but it passed quickly, Frankie clearing his throat to reclaim your attention. 

“Got ambushed during the last mission. We were pretty far out and without a medical team, and by the time we got anywhere near a hospital, it had already started healing like shit. Got tired of looking at it and answerin’ questions about what happened so I covered it up and now all people see is the tattoo.” 

“Did it hurt?” You glanced up, fingers tightening slightly over the thickened skin. “Getting a tattoo over the scars? I’ve heard that it’s worse sometimes.” 

“Nah. Not as much as when I got hurt the first time.” He covered your hand with his and squeezed, saying your name. “D’you see why I didn’t want to get into this before?”

“You wanted to get straight to the sex. I get it.” Grinning, you shook your head. “It’s gorgeous work, Frankie. It suits you. I’d love to see it in actual light, not just these lamps, because I’m sure there are a ton of details, and -”

“You will.” He pulled his arm back and then circled around to the other side of the bed, climbing in and leaning back, just like you were. “I usually fly in short sleeves. So if you’re still interested in those flights…” 

“Oh, I am.” Turning your head to look at him, you nodded. “Very interested, Frankie. That wasn’t just bullshit to get you into bed.” 

“Good. Because I want to take you up there.” He reached over, squeezing your knee through the blanket. “Do you want to stop on the way back to the hotel tomorrow for breakfast?” 

“Yeah, that works.” You sighed. “I don’t know what’s around here, but … I trust you to pick something good.” He grinned, nodding. Part of you - a very large part - wanted to lean over and kiss him again before you laid down, but you knew that it wasn’t a good idea. That’s not what this was. It was just sex and … it was good sex, but … 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tilting his head to the side, Frankie crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” 

“I’m trying to figure out how to end this conversation and lay down without it being awkward, but … I just made it awkward, didn’t I.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but Frankie’s head shook back and forth, the man leaning closer. 

“Not awkward. I get it. This shit’s kind of weird, hmm? After what we just did out there, being in here’s … different.” You nodded, still eyeing him. “Can I make it a little better for you?” He wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “Easier, maybe?” 

You knew what he was going to do even before he moved, but Frankie leaned closer while you nodded, one of his hands rising to touch - and then tilt - your chin. He kissed you softly, lips lingering on yours, and when he backed away, he was smiling, one brow arched. “I did say you could do that as often as you wanted tonight, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” He tweaked your chin and then pulled away entirely, easing himself down and onto the mattress. “Now get some sleep. I paid a fortune for this bed and I want you to enjoy it as much as I do.” You laughed, laying down next to him and rolling onto your side, facing the man. “Alexa, bedroom off.” 

Without delay, the room was plunged into darkness, Frankie shifting next to you as he settled in. He didn’t say anything else, and there was space between your bodies, but you didn’t feel the typical chasm that was almost always result when you stayed after a hookup. Because I knew him a little first? Because this won’t be the last time I see him? Both? I don’t… I don’t know. 

Humming quietly as you got comfortable, you felt your breaths lengthen, your body sinking into the mattress, which was comfortable. “Are these pillows the same material as -”

“Yes.” His voice was muffled, Frankie clearing his throat before he continued. “I told you. A fortune. I’m not twenty one anymore and I deserve it, goddammit.” You laughed at that, eyes squeezed shut. “Goodnight.” 

“‘Night, Frankie.” 

As you drifted off, the thought crossed your mind that even it was meant to be a one-time only thing, it certainly hadn’t felt that way at any point in the night - on either side. 

— 

You woke up to heat, a weight draped over you that sent a jolt of panic through your body as you sucked in a breath. Where am I? What is - “Hey. It’s alright.” His voice was low and in your ear, your muscles relaxing at the sound. “You’re alright. I just moved in my sleep, I’m sorry.” 

The realization that it was Frankie’s weight partially atop you forced your eyes open, the sight of his bare chest only inches from your nose greeting you immediately. Oh, shit. “I’m sorry, too. I -”

“Don’t apologize.” He moved his hand slowly, trailing a finger up the center of your back. “Not a bad way to wake up.” No, not at all. “How’d you sleep?” He smells so good. Even after last night, he smells… 

“Like a rock, Frankie. You weren’t lying about your bed. This is incredible compared to the hotels and apartments I’ve dealt with the last couple months. I don’t know how you get out of it every morning.” He laughed at you, taking a breath and rolling onto his back and away from you. You watched as his tattooed arm lifted, that hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

It was easier to see the design in the morning light, and your eyes roamed his skin, looking for details that you’d missed previously. There’s so many. I’d need to look for an hour to see them all. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll get going. I hate to do that, but I’m gonna go straight to the office after I drop you off.” He blinked at you, the man’s cheek pressed to his pillow. “You can use the other one if you want, should be everything you need in -”

“I appreciate it.” Sitting up, you held the blanket in place. “But I’ve got some emails to check, and there’s no point in showering if I’m just going to put old clothes on.” 

“I offered.” He sat up, too, and shrugged. “There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want to make some. It’ll only take me about ten minutes.” Frankie climbed out of bed without warning, treating you to the sight of his bare back and shoulders, pants hanging low on his hips. Damn. Look at him. “It’s not polite to stare.” Throwing a glance back over his shoulder, you watched as his smile grew. “But I don’t mind.” 

You groaned and he laughed, the man disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Well, shit. You gave yourself until you heard the water turn on to get out of bed, quickly pulling your clothes back on and using his mirror to ensure that you looked presentable. That done, you padded barefoot into the kitchen, willing yourself not to snoop. 

He’d already opened up to you on numerous levels - more than any typical one night stand, and also more than any new acquaintance, and you didn’t want to break his trust. As you reached for the handle of the most likely cabinet for coffee mugs, you tried to convince yourself that it was because you needed him for the helicopter, but you knew that wasn’t everything. 

The places your search took you often led to loneliness - the job was a solo one, and your cover contacts could only fill so much of the time in the day. The reality was that when you weren’t out looking at likely locations or actively doing research, you spent a lot of time in the place you were renting. 

It didn’t make sense to make friends. It wasn’t smart to form attachments, because the nature of your mission was something that kept you on the move. But maybe … maybe making a friend like Frankie would be alright. 

His friends were an added bonus, too. He hadn’t been wrong; you’d gotten along with them, had enjoyed the time you’d spent at the bar, and it had little to do with the fact that they were potentially useful. And everything to do with them as people. 

You set the pot to brew and then headed for the living room, digging through your bag for your phone and pulling it free. 

There were no missed calls or texts, and nothing in your inbox from Tom. It’s still early, though. Frowning, you headed back into the kitchen and took a seat at the small table, dialing Alec’s number as the scent of the coffee filled the room. 

It went straight to voicemail, which didn’t surprise you, and with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you rested your forehead against your palm, waiting for the beep. “Hey, Alec. It’s me. Just checking in and trying to figure out how things are going. I’m working on a couple things in Florida, so hopefully in a few days I’ll be settled for a while. Give me a call when you get this, alright? Would be great to hear about what you’ve been up to.” 

Setting the phone face down on the table, you covered your face with both hands, sighing. It wasn’t unusual to be out of contact for a lengthy period of time, but no interaction whatsoever always worried you. He’s fine. He’s just following a lead. He - “Alec? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but -” He sounds concerned. 

Head popping up, you turned in your seat toward the doorway, finding that Frankie was leaning against it, his hair wet and arms crossed over his broad chest. “My cousin. He also travels for work, so we … we sort of keep each other company while we’re on the job. It’s been a little while since I’ve heard from him, though, and I have no idea where he is right now.” He nodded twice, pointing at the coffee maker with one finger. 

“You made a pot, not a cup.” Well, yeah. I figured you might want some, too. “There enough for me?”

“Of course. I just got out one mug because I didn’t want to assume, but… yeah, Frankie.” Standing, you headed back toward the counter, inhaling deeply. “I made enough for you.” 

“Thank you.” You heard the sound of a cabinet opening and then watched as he pushed a travel mug across the counter, followed moments later by a second one. “Can I make a suggestion?” Turning your head, you waited to see what he’d say. “We take it to go, and then both of us have a good coffee to drink later today.” 

You paused, pressing your lips together. Is he trying to get me out of here? “I… ok. Sure. I haven’t tested out the coffee maker in my room yet, but -” You poured coffee into the first mug, leaving enough space in case he wanted to add anything to it. 

“And you can give me the mug back the next time I see you.” He stepped closer, bumping your hip with his.  “Whether that’s for a flight or … another time.” You tried to hide it but you were certain he saw your hand shake at the comment, both of your eyes widening at the insinuation. Another time? Another time like last night, or another time at the bar, or - “Whenever’s good for you.” 

You turned your head then, locking eyes with him. There was something in them, a hopeful look that surprised you, but Frankie only gave you a small smile, the man shrugging as he reached for the full mug, his fingers closing around it. Keep it light. “Sounds good.” You returned your attention to the coffee pot, heart thudding in your chest. “I will be in Tampa for a while, so…” Don’t get your hopes up. 

A few minutes later, both of you were holding full travel mugs and heading out the front door. Frankie was telling you a story about a booking he’d had, your attention fully on the sound of his voice. “I have so many damn stories I could tell you, it’s unreal.” He slid into the seat next to you, turning the key in the ignition. “Proposals. I’ve had people break up mid-flight. Couple people puked. Someone demanded their money back because I wouldn’t land ‘em in a random place.”

“People are … very needy.” You sipped your coffee, eyeing his dashboard. “But I bet you’ve had some really good flights, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be doing it.” He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it wasn’t how you’d anticipated.

“Alright. There’s a place on the way back to Ironhead’s that I like. Hopefully you will, too.” He put the truck in reverse and backed slowly down the driveway. “And yeah, I have had good flights. Most of ‘em are that way. But even if they weren’t, I think I’d still do this. Flying’s what I know. It’s what I’m good at. I made a career out of it in the military, so why not keep doing it now?” 

“I know for a fact you’re good at other things, too.” Eyeing him, you chewed on your lower lip. Well, it’s the truth. “So -”

“Ah, but those things aren’t exactly legal for me to profit from, are they.” He grinned, turning toward you enough to give you a wink. “Thanks for the vote of encouragement, though. I’ll remember that. Flattery gets you everywhere with me.” This is too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. “We’re almost there, by the way. Family owned diner. Cheap but the food is good. They’re really friendly.” 

Nodding in agreement, you leaned back in your seat, staring out the front window. You reminded yourself to make a few notes during the meal, just in case he was watching you closely. Keep up appearances. 

But when you parked in the small lot, Frankie waiting for you to round the front of the truck to start walking toward the front door, you knew that you wouldn’t be focusing much on your surroundings. Instead, you focused on him, the man taking a seat across from you in the small booth, and immediately launching into another story once you’d both ordered. 

He kept you entertained throughout the entire meal, your attention squarely on him and what he was saying - but Frankie asked you questions, too, the man’s prodding never making you feel uncomfortable, though it was not typical “morning after” conversation. But nothing about this is typical, is it. 

He made you laugh with a story about Benny and Pope, and it was impossible not to keep grinning in his direction, even after it was finished. “You’re making a very good case for wanting to be friends with your friends, do you know that?” You finished your meal, dropping your fork onto the plate and then topping it with a wadded up napkin. “Thank you, Frankie. For … last night and for this morning. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt … I don’t know, like I’m in a place for more than work. It was nice to relax for a while.” 

He nodded, raising his almost empty cup in salute. “Glad to help.” You didn’t want to cross a line or make it weird with him, but his reaction reassured you that you hadn’t. “They all always tell me I need to relax, too. And despite what you might think, last night was … not my normal. Before? Yeah. Before I met Becca? Definitely. It … I’m careful now. I have to be.” 

“Because of your daughter?” Cocking your head to the side, you crossed your arms on the table. “I get it. Even if she doesn’t live with you all the time, you’ve gotta be there for her. And inviting strangers into your life is … not always the best idea.” He watched you for a few seconds, the look in his eyes almost distant, but then he nodded, blinking himself back into focus.

“That’s part of it.” He gestured to your plate and then to his. “Ready?” You nodded in agreement, reaching for your bag, but Frankie held out his hand, stopping you. “It’s on me. I’ve got it.” You didn’t want to argue and so you thanked him instead, watching as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet and set them on the table. “C’mon. We leave now, I’ll be able to get you back to your car before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber get to the bar to open it up.” 

You snorted back a laugh and followed Frankie back outside, the man pausing long enough to glance up at the sky and take a deep breath. What is he going to say? He’s gearing up for something. “Which one’s which?” Putting a hand on your hip, you wrinkled your nose. “Benny and Will? Which one’s -”

“Depends on the day of the week.” He kept a straight face for a few seconds and then laughed, shaking his head. “I’m kidding. They’re both a hell of a lot smarter than they look, and they’re two of the best goddamn friends anyone could ask for.” 

“But that doesn’t mean they won’t give you shit about picking up a girl from a bar and having to drive her back to her car the following morning - as any good friend should.” Buckling in, you looked over at Frankie. “I get it.” 

“I meant it. I don’t … I don’t use the bar like that. I don’t just -”

“Frankie, you don’t owe me an explanation. Even if you did take home a new woman every time you went in there, I can’t say much about it because I’d barely been in Tampa for a full day before I let you take me back to your place. This is … what it is, and I think it’s fair to say that we both enjoyed ourselves, but that doesn’t mean either of us have to justify our behavior.” You drummed your fingertips atop your knee. “I don’t stay in one place long enough to get close to people. I’ve never kept in touch with anyone I’ve met after I’m out of a city, so -”

“But have you ever slept with ‘em and then had to work with them afterward?” He watched the road as he drove, both hands on the wheel. 

“No. But if it’s going to be a problem, I -” He stopped at a light, turning his head to look at you. “What?” 

“It’s not going to be a problem. I just want to be honest with you, because I’m not … I’m not looking for anything long term, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. After retiring, after Becca, after … everything, I’m just trying to … make it all work.” 

“Well you’re in luck.” You cleared your throat. “I think we’ll need to be friendly in order to make the most out of these flights I’m hoping to schedule with you, but it doesn’t need to be more. Last night was great, Frankie, there’s no reason to pretend it wasn’t.” You were thankful that he was being honest with you - setting expectations and not leaving things open to interpretation. He knows what he needs, and that’s … a step up from most men, honestly. “But we can leave that part of it at that, and just … work together.”

It was probably for the best - the longer you stayed in Tampa and the deeper you got in your research, the less time you’d have for distractions like Frankie outside of the helicopter. Because the man was perceptive - he had to be in order to survive multiple deployments, and to excel at his current profession. And perceptive people ask questions, which I can’t answer, so … it was fun but we shouldn’t do it again. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, the man’s jaw set - but he didn’t speak again until you were parked in the bar’s lot, his truck next to your car. “I might have some time before my first trip today to look into some routes. If you … if you think of anything you want to see, or anywhere you’d like to go, just let me know, and I’ll see if I can work it in.” You nodded, digging through your bag for your keys. “Might be a couple days before you hear from me, because I want to have actual answers before I -”

“That’s fine. And if, in the meantime, you can figure out a time to do one of your regular routes, I’m open to that. I have to see the main coast and the city too, right?” Might as well get that out of the way while I can. “Only if you have time, though. I don’t want to bug you.” 

“You aren’t. And you won’t.” He finally looked at you again, resolve written on his features. “And I didn’t mean to lay this shit on you, either. I probably seem like the worst fucking hookup of all time.”

“I’ve had worse. Way worse, actually.” Winking at him, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “But in all seriousness, knowing where you stand is important, right? Set expectations from the beginning and no one gets in too deep.” Keep telling yourself that. “Have a safe flight, Frankie. Or flights, if you’ve got more than one today. Thank you again for everything. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You got out of the truck without saying anything more, but before you could climb into your car, you heard him say your name and looked up to find the driver’s side window down, his bent elbow resting against the open space. What? “Let me know when you hear about that apartment, alright? If you end up there, I can recommend some stuff in the neighborhood.” 

You assured him you would, and then with another nod, Frankie pulled away, the window rising as his truck moved. Even though you told yourself not to, you watched him go, only looking away when the truck disappeared from view. Shit. 

He wasn’t exactly sending you mixed signals - you were the one that suggested being on friendly terms, and what he’d told you laid out his expectations pretty clearly. But something was nagging at you - Frankie’s behavior not quite aligning with a true one night stand’s aftermath. It’s fine. I’m overthinking it. Lifting the mug to your lips and taking another sip, you laughed as you realized that no matter what, you would have to see him again - just as he’d so obviously planned. Oh, Frankie. Smiling to yourself, you unlocked your car. You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you. 

“Long night?” You spun at the sound of a voice, startled at the sight of Will leaning against the side of his car - a large SUV. “You look … well rested.” He was smirking, one eyebrow raised, and without even thinking, you lifted your hand and gave him the finger, the man’s laughter erupting from his throat. “Maybe you need more sleep. ‘Fish must’ve kept you up late.” 

“Very funny, Will.” He wasn’t judging you, though, the man’s posture loose as he watched your reaction. “How do you even know he -”

“I passed him on my way in. He waved at me.” Oh. That’ll do it. “You know, I give that man a lot of shit, but …” Will dragged his tongue over his lower lip and then reached up, rubbing at his beard with one hand. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him like he was last night. Comfortable with someone new. It was … nice.” Oh? That’s… interesting. “Just something for you to think about, y’know?” Will nodded slowly and then pointed at the front of the bar. “Gotta go in now, get shit ready to open, but what Benny said last night stands. Come back whenever - with or without Cat.” 

“Maybe I will.” He nodded, pushing off of the vehicle and stepping toward the door. “See you around.” You were inside your car before he made it to the door, starting the engine and tapping the address of the hotel into the NAV screen. 

You had a lot to think about - and even more to do, and thanks to Frankie, you didn’t need to stop for food on your way back to the room. I’ll go out later, you told yourself, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Once I get some work done. 

And you did get work done after you got out of the shower, the hot water running over your body and soothing you the way it always did. But you would have been lying to yourself if you’d tried to pretend that while under the stream, you hadn’t let your thoughts wander to Frankie - to the way he’d touched you and made you feel. 

You worked for hours, finishing the mug of coffee and then some, making lists of potential locations to check out along with likely spots within those locations to focus on. You did what you did best - categorizing your findings based on intuition and what you knew to be true about the Chaos line, as well as the data you could gather on the previous attacks in the Tampa area. 

It was good work, and when you finally stopped to take a breath and consider dinner, you were pleased with your progress - and even more pleased with the locations that you’d found to use as cover while you looked into what you were really in Florida for. I have a place to start now. And tomorrow… tomorrow that’s what I’ll do. 

But the minute you shut your laptop and closed your notebook, your thoughts went back to Frankie, and the time you’d spent together. Closing your eyes, you could still almost feel the man’s hold on you - the way his palm had felt on your chest, the touch of his fingers and the press of his chest to your back. You could hear him, the noises he’d made seared into your brian. Stop it. Stop. You both know what last night was.  

Shaking your head, you stood from the desk and reached for your phone, surprised to see a missed call from Tom earlier that afternoon. I got denied. That’s the only possible reason he called so fast. 

But Tom’s message was the exact opposite - short and to the point, and when it ended, you stood in the center of your room, gripping the phone tightly in one hand. 

The homeowner had looked over your documents and references, and contingent on your background check’s results, was ready to accept the terms of your move-in offer. “As long as everything comes back good, you can come in on Wednesday and Thursday and sign the lease and hand over your deposit,” his voice through the speaker told you. “And then move in immediately after that. Might be premature, but … congratulations on findin’ something so fast. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Oh, man.” Closing your eyes, you lowered your head. Things were progressing in record time - and once you were moved in, you wouldn’t have to worry about a housekeeper walking in and snooping through your stuff, which would make things even easier. It meant you could truly get lost in your work, surrounding yourself with your notes and everything your family had learned throughout the years. 

But there was something it also meant - a realization that your traitorous brain focused on much more quickly - and for much longer - than it should have. 

Once you moved into the guest house, you’d practically be neighbors with Frankie - and despite the assurances and declarations you’d both made that morning, you weren’t sure that either of you would be able to stick with them. 

— 

(one more attempt at a) tag list coming soon!

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: Part 5 of the Fighter fic. shout out to Arnas for providing a new boxing pic for me to use.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Warnings: angst/fluff. suggestive, mention of domestic abuse, medication, and violence.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: A few months had passed since you married Sihtric, and you were confronted with new troubles.

wordcount: 4,2k

Masterlist

'Do you believe them?'

You watched Sihtric anxiously pace through the living room as you sat on the couch, with Ragnar, his agent, next to you, who had randomly showed up at your home late at night, and he wasn't bringing good news. That reporter, who Sihtric had shoved away while in Hawaii, had apparently broken his elbow when he fell, and was suing your husband, who never meant any harm, but just panicked.

'What does this mean for us? What do we do?' you asked, concerned, while Sihtric kept walking back and forth, anxiously biting down on his lip while seemingly taken by his own thoughts.

'There is not much we can do, except get a lawyer to defend Sihtric,' Ragnar said.

'But… Sihtric did shove him, which led to the broken elbow. So it's clear that he's guilty,' you looked at Sihtric who stared at you, 'sorry, baby,' you said quietly and grimaced.

'That is a fact,' Ragnar backed you, to which Sihtric scoffed.

'My wife was hurt!' he lashed out, 'I was only trying to get her to safety as well as myself. I could've done a lot worse than just shoving someone!'

'I know,' you jumped up, 'we know,' you said and cupped his cheeks, 'but it happened, and we all know everyone saw it happen.'

Sihtric huffed and pulled you against his shirtless chest, 'so what does he want? Money?' Sihtric asked Ragnar, 'ask him how much and we'll just settle it. I don't want to go to court or have this become a whole media spectacle. I'm tired of this shit,' he squeezed you tighter without realising it, 'I just want to live in fucking peace.'

'I know,' Ragnar said, 'but this guy will take it to court, purely for the reason to make a point about reporters getting attacked and har-'

'Then what the fuck do reporters call their behaviour towards me?' Sihtric shouted, heated, and you took a step back, but Sihtric pulled you back as he lashed out again, 'they push, shove and fucking shout in my face wherever I go! They publish lies for their own gain, expose private information whenever they fucking can, and they claim to be the ones who are attacked? I should've fucking bashed his head in!' Sihtric snarled.

'Hey,' Ragnar threw his hands up, 'I'm on your side here, man.'

'Babe,' you hushed your husband, gently pushing him towards the kitchen, 'calm down, honey, have some water. And take your meds before you get dizzy again, okay?' you said calmly, 'and don't forget to take the new meds too, my love.'

'Take my meds,' Sihtric muttered, but he listened regardless, because you were his wife, and he loved you. 

Sihtric was still taking medication to deal with the aftermath of his concussion, which was going very well, but he recently also started taking medication to deal with his anxiety. 

And after Sihtric swallowed his meds, he immediately smashed the box with pills down on the kitchenfloor, 'I'm on meds because of their fucking bullshit!' he shouted and stormed out into the lit up backyard, leaving a mess of scattered pills on the floor.

You and Ragner stood back and watched it happen. After a few long seconds, you quietly began to gather the spilled medication, while Ragnar picked up the box.

'He has medication for anxiety?'

'Yeah, you said, clearly still startled, 'he got it last week.'

'I see,' Ragnar said.

Why?' 

'No, just asking,' Ragnar smiled and looked out the window, 'I'm going to have a word with him, okay?'

You nodded and took the box out of Ragnar's hand, putting the medication back inside. After that, you went upstairs, and got in bed and thought about the fact that there was a lawsuit coming up. Because you haven't been through enough stress yet, while in the meantime, Ragnar had a hard word with Sihtric. And your husband would join you in bed almost an hour later, and cuddling up to you from behind.

'Hey, bunny,' he whispered and kissed your jaw.

'Hey, tiger,' you smiled upon feeling his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

'Sorry I lashed out, baby,' Sihtric nuzzled your neck softly, 'I love you,' he pecked your neck, 'I love you, my little wife,' he squeezed you tightly as he attacked you with his lips, 'my pretty princess,' he chuckled softly.

'I love you too,' you squirmed and giggled while being smothered, 'and I understand your anger, no need to apologise, my love.'

'Hm,' he hummed, 'take out my anger, honey bun?' 

'Take those pants off then,' you grinned as you turned to face him.

Sihtric deliberately kept you out of the whole lawsuit as the weeks progressed, only telling you updates you needed to hear. Unfortunately, the incident had made its way completely public, and Sihtric was the centre of attention on every media platform right now. People also liked to pull up the articles about the fight he had with Sigtryggr, at the UFC promotion event, which ended in a nightmare. And little by little, the words being said about Sihtric became more grim each day. People claimed he had serious anger issues, that he had always been an asshole and now the world finally knew it, and they spoke of how he is a disgrace to the martial arts community, as they think he has no respect, discipline or honour. And Sihtric was not blind to these claims, but he felt powerless and didn't really speak about it. Until he suddenly brought it up, out of nowhere.

'Do you believe them?' Sihtric asked quietly, his fingertips slowly trailing up and down your bare legs, 'what people say about me?'

The bathroom was quiet for a moment, except for the soft sound of tiny foam bubbles popping, while you sat across from Sihtric in his jacuzzi bathtub, staring into his eyes.

'You know I don't,' you said, almost offended, 'sure, you have a temper, but that's not what happened when you shoved that guy to the ground.'

Sihtric said nothing, his eyes locked on you for a moment. Then he spread his arms out on the edge of the tub, and let his head rest back against the wall, exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes while strands of his wet hair stuck to his tired face. You watched his exposed neck along with his toned chest, and thought it was a shame how the water and foam was hiding the rest of his body.

'Darling,' you said, sneaking over to him, and you took his face in your hands, 'you need to rid yourself of those thoughts,' you said softly but firmly, 'and also of the thoughts that I don't want to be with you.'

Sihtric looked down, struggling to find his words, and eventually whispered, 'I just worry that one day you will wake up, and realise that I'm an awful person. And that you will no longer want to be with me.'

'You are not a horrible person,' you hushed him with a soft kiss to his forehead, 'sure, you are flawed, as is everyone. But I love you,' you said, directing his eyes back to yours, 'I love you, Sihtric.'

'I love you,' he smiled weakly and pulled you in his arms, 'I love you endlessly,' he whispered and kissed your hair.

'You better,' you smiled and reached to grab a towel, 'come, my love, let's get dressed and try to go to sleep soon. You should take your meds and get some rest.'

While Sihtric was in his office the next day, talking with his lawyer and Ragnar, you scrolled on your phone when suddenly your group chat exploded with texts and screenshots.

Thyra: is this true?

Gisela: WOW?????

Brida: are you okay? Why didn't you tell us about this!

Eadith: has he hurt you before?

Thyra: why did you never say anything about this? You know you can trust us…

You frowned at their messages and clicked the screenshots of news articles they sent you, and you immediately ran to Sihtric, nearly kicking in the door of his home office.

'Honey?' Sihtric frowned, bewildered, and he jumped up when he saw your face.

'Have you seen this!?' you said through your tears, holding your phone out to him.

'What?' he asked, ignoring your phone and taking your free hand in his, 'can you guys give us a moment?' Sihtric asked the two men, who left the room quickly.

'Hey,' Sihtric pulled you close and cupped your cheeks, 'baby, why are you crying? What's wrong?'

You couldn't speak, you felt all choked up and just pushed your phone against his chest, which Sihtric then took as he sat down, pulling you in his lap. You heard he stopped breathing for a moment when he saw why you were upset, then locked your screen and put your phone down on his desk, calmly, and he wrapped both arms around you.

'Why does everyone keep lying about you?' you sobbed, 'about us?!'

'They won't get away with this,' Sihtric said, 'I promise you, they won't.'

Somehow, the security footage from the hotel you stayed at in Hawaii was leaked to the media. Showing how Sihtric broke the mirror, to which you flinched. And no one could deny that, as the footage was without sound, it did seem as if Sihtric had you trapped between the wall and his body, and when you had pushed him away a little, to wipe the blood that was dripping down from your nose, he smashed the glass to pieces, which people interpreted as him being angry that you tried to get out of his grip. Which was not what happened, but the people didn't know that. It also didn't help that newspages attached paparazzi photos to their articles of you out on the street, with bruises on your legs and shoulders. And so they implied Sihtric was a man with anger issues, who abused his wife. But no one knew those bruises came from your rough love making, and that Sihtric had never laid a hand on you in a way that wasn't out of love, pleasure, or without consent. But the lie was already out there, and people believed it, even your own friends.

Now that his lawyer was here already, Sihtric discussed the topic and how to handle it. The lawyer and Ragnar both suggested not commenting on it, instead gathering evidence to prove everything is made up, and then sue the hotel for leaking the footage and the news outlets for posting the story. But first, Sihtric still had to deal with the reporter who had a broken elbow.

Several months later you joined Sihtric to court, where you would hear if he was found guilty or not, and what the consequences would be.

Sihtric had a firm grip on your hand, as per usual in public, as he was anxious by the amount of people in front of the court house, trying to talk to him about everything that's going on. The medication made Sihtric calmer, but his love language was simply keeping you close, at all times. 

What you didn't know, while being present at the hearing, was that online, the photos of you and Sihtric taken outside the courthouse were already being spread. Mainly with the focus on Sihtric's tight grip on your hand, adding fuel to the fire to the abuse allegations. But that was a later worry.

Sihtric was found guilty, which you both expected already, and the man who sued your husband only wanted to make a statement for his fellow reporters and to have his medical bills paid. Which Sihtric agreed to. You were both relieved it ended rather well, and that Sihtric was not getting the harsh punishment of being set as an example; being a celebrity who attacked a journalist. It could've ended way worse, but the jury understood Sihtric's side of the story, and therefore he got away rather easily. It all had brightened Sihtric's mood, and he was eager to go home with you now this case was all said and done.

Sihtric held your hand, firmly again, as you walked to his beloved Bugatti, dodging cameras and phones before you crossed the street. And you both almost made it to the car without speaking your mind, until you heard someone yell your name, and you looked over your shoulder.

'Leave your abuser!' a stranger shouted at you.

The stranger received cheers and whistles from the gathering crowd, across the street from you, and you felt your blood boil.

'Leave it, baby,' Sihtric said as he noticed your anger,and he pulled you close as you were only five more steps away from his car, 'don't listen to them, they don't know shit about us.'

You knew he was right and bit your tongue, until the next remark was shouted when Sihtric held the car door open for you.

'Why be with someone who bruises you!?' the words earned some cheers again, and you snapped.

'Those bruises,' you snarled, 'are because my husband knows how to fuck me real good and hard, just the way I like it!'

'Honey!' Sihtric said, with big eyes, 'g-get in the car, okay?'

'No,' you said softly to him and turned back to the crowd and yelled, 'so you can stick your fucking lies up your-'

'No, no, no,' Sihtric couldn't hide his amusement, but he hushed you with a kiss, 'we'll show them, baby,' he smiled against your lips, 'just get in the car, bunny, don't make this worse now.'

You huffed but couldn't resist your husband, and knew he was once again right. So you sat down without another word. You saw the look on Sihtric's face as he stared at you, while making his way over to the driver's seat, and you knew he was aroused.

'You calm?' Sihtric asked as he started the car.

'Yeah, fine,' you chuckled at your own behaviour, 'guess you really start to rub off on me, huh?'

'So it seems,' Sihtric laughed as he ran his hand up your thigh, which he squeezed firmly with his tattooed fingers and hummed while keeping his eyes on the road as he drove off.

'You calm?' you grinned.

'I will be after I fuck you good, my love,' he murmured with a smile.

'You want to fuck me good?' you teased, trailing your fingers over his veiny arms.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then his jaw and then his neck. Sihtric's breath hitched and his grip on your thigh became bruising, as you had intended, while a deep moan escaped his lips.

'You always fuck me good, bad boy,' you whispered against his sensitive neck, earning a soft grunt from your man.

'You make me so fucking hard, baby girl,' he husked and stepped on the gas, ignoring the speed limit as he was desperate to get home and throw you in bed.

You chuckled and kissed his neck again while your hand snuck under his shirt, up his muscular body.

'Hm. Come on, bunny,' Sihtric breathed, smiling as he had both hands on the wheel, squeezing tightly, 'give me some more dirty talk.'

'Do you want me to take your anger out?' you brushed your lips over his ear, 'want to fill me up with it while I scream your name?'

'Yeah,' he moaned desperately, 'need you… to… fuck,' he sighed and swallowed hard.

'But what if I'm angry too?' you whispered, moving your hands down to his jeans, tracing your fingers over his hardness.

Sihtric hummed and bit down on his lip, trying to focus on the road, but you were clouding his thoughts and vision. He needed to feel you, but the way home was too long for him to continue without losing control. So he suddenly took a turn, knowing his gym was closer than his house, and you couldn't help but giggle at the change of direction, knowing exactly where he was going.

'The gym, baby?' you teasingly unbuttoned his jeans, 'surely there's training lessons going on there at this hour?'

'Guess I have to fuck you in front of everyone,' Sihtric smirked as his breathing intensified, 'I'll bend you over that welcome desk without hesitation, lady.' 

You felt his length twitch as you rubbed your hand over his crotch, loving the way you could arouse him so easily, wrapping him around your finger without any trouble. And you loved how he couldn't think straight anymore when you got him to this point. 

Moments later he pulled up to the gym, parking his ridiculous expensive car in the most douchebag way possible, right in front of the entrance where it clearly said "no parking". 

'Out,' Sihtric demanded as he kicked his car door open.

He was quick to take your hand and pulled you inside the gym, where you were both greeted by several familiar faces, to whom you simply nodded and Sihtric said you were in a hurry. He pulled you into a hallway and into his office, which you didn't even know he had there, but you weren't complaining.

'Clothes off,' he ordered as he locked the door behind him and closed the blinds. 

You gladly did as he asked, but you could only take off your jeans before Sihtric already bent you over his desk, pulling down your underwear himself as he breathed hard.

'Impatient, champion?' you chuckled as he dropped down his jeans.

'Yes,' was all he said, and pushed inside you smoothly with a satisfying sigh, 'fuck, ahh.'

'Oh, god, yes,' you smiled, 'yeah, come on,' you breathed as he snapped his hips into you hard and fast, 'fucking give it to me, Sihtric!'

Fifteen minutes later you both walked past the welcome desk again, and even if half of the gym hadn't heard you two, they would've known what had happened regardless by the blush on both your cheeks. But no one dared to say something, and soon you were seated in his car again. Sihtric took your face in his hands and kissed you, sweet and deep, before he pecked your face all over, making you giggle.

'I fucking love you, bunny,' he whispered, planting another few kisses on your face before he started the car again and finally drove home.

Back home again, you made dinner together and everything was nearly back to normal as you joked around and smothered each other at every possible occasion. After dinner, Sihtric would be heading back to the gym again. This time to throw a few punches, instead of throwing you around in his office, and he asked if you wanted to braid his hair before he left.

'What time will you be back?' you hummed as you sat on a chair, with Sihtric on the floor in front of you, your legs resting over his broad shoulders.

'I'll only be an hour or two,' he said, moving his hands over your legs, 'hey, why don't you come with me?'

'To watch you get punched? I'm not sure,' you chuckled lightly.

'It's not like that,' Sihtric laughed. He turned to face you after you said you finished braiding his hair, and he looked up at you. 'Come with me?' he pouted, 'I like to have you close.' He brought his face up to yours and kissed your lips, 'I like to keep my wife close,' he smiled.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, as you simply couldn't resist him, and you quickly changed clothes before you tagged along.

At the gym, you watched his sparring session. And despite it being a training, you couldn't help but flinch whenever he'd take a punch to his body. It was all a game to him, but you just hated it and didn't understand the joy people got out of this. But you did love to see Sihtric in his element, without a care in the world as he only had one focus. But you'd rather see him without a care in the world in a whole different way; in bed, underneath you.

'He's doing better, huh?' Uhtred suddenly stood next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

'It seems so, yes,' you smiled, 'I still worry what can happen if he takes a punch to the head though.'

'He'll be fine,' Uhtred said, 'it's not like he had much common sense left up there anyway.'

'Hey,' you snorted and punched his shoulder, 'that's my husband you're talking about.'

'And bless you for taking care of that poor bastard,' he laughed, 'how's that anxiety going?'

'Oh, he's much calmer,' you said, glancing at Sihtric as he had his sparring partner cornered, 'at home and in public, he seems more at ease lately, almost high even,' you laughed, 'guess that medication works wonders.'

'Medication?' Uhtred frowned, 'for anxiety?'

'Yeah, he got it a few weeks ago from the doctor.'

'What? Wh-,' Uhtred seemed stunned, 'what sort of medication?'

'Uh, diazepam, I believe.'

'Diaze-,' Uhtred's eyes grew big and turned towards the fighter, 'Sihtric!' he shouted, 'gloves off, now!'

'What?' you frowned.

Sihtric also frowned and shrugged, 'why?'

'You will come here now, or I will drag you here!' Uhtred commanded.

'Fuck sakes,' Sihtric sighed, throwing his gloves on the canvas underneath his feet, 'what has gotten into you today?' he said as he walked over and put on his shirt.

'Everybody out!' Uhtred yelled, to which a dozen of other boxers listened and left, and he went to close the door behind them.

'What the hell?' you mumbled while Sihtric circled his sweaty arms around you.

'Bunny,' he whispered with a sweet smile, 'my wife,' he pecked your lips, 'I love you, baby girl.'

'I love you too,' you giggled, 'my husband.'

You swore you could never grow tired of staring into his mismatched eyes, tracing your fingers over his scarred face before you felt his facial hair tickle as you kissed him. But your sweet moment was abruptly brought to an end as Uhtred shouted at Sihtric while he walked back over.

'Diazepam, Sihtric?' he shouted, 'really?'

'Wait, what… what is going on-' you tried to ask, but Uhtred closed in, pressing his forehead against Sihtric's and forcing him away from you, using the same intimidation tactic Sihtric had used on you the first time you met.

'Where the fuck do you get?' Uhtred asked, furiously, and he slapped the back of Sihtric's head when he got no answer from your husband, 'tell me where you're getting it from!'

'None of your fucking business,' Sihtric snarled and gave Uhtred a shove.

'Hey!' you yelled, when Uhtred grabbed Sihtric by his shoulders, shoving him hard against a wall, 'stop! What the fuck are you doing!' you slapped Uhtred while he had his first around Sihtric's throat, but Sihtric didn't fight back.

'The streets?' Uhtred snarled, brushing your hands off him with ease, 'you buying drugs off the streets again?'

'What?' you panicked, looking at Uhtred, 'what do you mean?' then you looked at Sihtric, 'baby? Wh- what is he talking about?'

'Nothing,' Sihtric wheezed.

'Tell her!' Uhtred spat and released Sihtric out of his grip, who fell down to his knees.

'What? Tell me what?' you cried as you kneeled down, taking Sihtric's face in your hands, 'babe, what is going on!'

'Tell her! Or I will!' Uhtred threatened.

You suddenly felt sick and kept turning your head to Uhtred, only to turn back to your husband again, until Sihtric sighed and gently took your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

'I'm… I'm sorry, my love,' he whispered, 'I'm-' 

A loud bang startled the three of you, and you looked over your shoulder to see two cops had kicked in the door and were approaching.

'Sihtric Kjartansson,' one of the cops said as the other took out his handcuffs, 'you are under arrest for possession of drugs.'

'What?' you yelled, and Uhtred quickly pulled you away from Sihtric, who got handcuffed.

'No! Baby?' you trembled, trying to escape Uhtred's grip, 'stop!' you tried to shout, but you could barely find your voice as Uhtred pulled you further back.

'You have the right to remain silent,' the cop interrupted your silent cry, while pulling Sihtric up from his knees, 'anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer-'

'I can afford a fucking lawyer!' Sihtric grunted, to which the cop sighed.

'If you cannot afford a lawyer,' the cop repeated, 'one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.'

The cops walked Sihtric past you, as you were still held back by Uhtred while you cried out your husband's name. Sihtric managed to get out of the grip the cops had on him, and he leaped over to you.

'I love you, baby,' he whispered and kissed your lips in haste, 'please forgive me, bunny,' was the last thing he said before the cops yanked him back by his handcuffs. 

You were too stunned to speak, in complete shock, and the last you saw of Sihtric was the way he mouthed 'I love you, my wife,' and puckered his lips to you, before the cops pushed him out of sight.

taglist: @clairacassidy  @finanmoghra  @uunotheangel  @hb8301   @bathedinheat   @neonhairspray   @anaeve   @bubblyabs    @travelingmypassion   @sylas-the-grim   @heimtathurs    @bubbles-for-all-of-us   @andakth   @bel-bottoms    @willowbrookesblog   @lady-targaryens-world   @skyofficialxx    @diosademuerte   @elle4404   @alexagirlie   @sweetxime @solango

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

[deathbyhertouch]

Better in the Dark

Lucy Dacus x reader

A/N: here is the winner for my song inspired poll. I love this song a lot, the whole album is something special. I hope you like it! please send me some requests, i am dangerously low on ideas to write.

warnings: drug use, drinking, mild angst, heavy sorrow, mild pining, stargazing, like three swear words???

word count: 1.1k

Enjoy!

The party was in full swing, a crowd of people crammed into the basement, everyone toting a red solo cup. The music was blaring, and the heavy smell of weed, flooding her nostrils. Lucy sat alone on the small recliner, picking at her ripped jeans. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be nestled up in bed, watching some movie. Instead, she was dragged to a house party by a friend she was only semi close with. That friend had long disappeared, being her ride home. Her phone had died an hour ago, leaving her alone with her thoughts. It had been a few months since she had broken up with you. You two had been drifting apart for months, and you were more alone in the relationship than either of you ever were when you were single. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other, or didn’t want to make it work-you had just grown apart, circumstantially. 

Lucy huffed, standing up to make her way to the sorry excuse for a ‘bar’, wanting to distract herself from her own thoughts. She grabbed a fresh cup, filling it with ice, before reaching for the half empty bottle of vodka. She filled it about halfway, enough to feel it burn down her throat. She looked around, grabbing the first mixer she could find. She poured the contents into her cup, giving it a good stir with her finger before taking a large swig. She grimaced lightly at the taste, before turning back around to make her way back to her lonesome throne. She looked up, gasping lightly, nearly dropping her drink. 

There you were, sat on the couch, surrounded by your friends, lost in conversation. You looked damn good, you had dyed your hair blonde, something she had never seen before. Her cheeks flushed bright red, not expecting you to be here. She glanced around, finding the sliding door to the backyard, and making a beeline for it. She rushed outside, finding a small spot under the outdoor patio, and plopping herself down on it. 

Her mind was racing, should she say something to you? Does she try to find her friend to drive her home? She pondered the options, not even realizing someone had followed her out into the obsidian night. The mystery person sat beside her in the other chair. She looked over, not being able to make out who it was. 

“Want a hit?” She froze, hearing your voice. You didn’t recognize her, not with how dark it was outside. You lit the joint hanging out of your mouth, taking a light drag, before holding it out to her. Lucy murmured a thanks, in a low voice, as not to give herself away. She took the joint from your fingers, bringing it to her lips, inhaling the sickly sweet smoke into her mouth. She exhaled, passing you back the joint. You had grabbed it, putting it in your mouth. You two passed the joint back and forth until there was no more. Then it was just silence, and the heaving breathing coming from Lucy.

“God what a fucking night, yeah? All these stars out here, not even the moon is out.” Your high rambles were one of your quirks that she had always adored about you. She had missed this, you going off on a tangent, listening intently with every word. She hummed in agreement, still nervous about what was currently happening. 

If I move now, she’ll never know it was me. Lucy’s fight or flight had kicked in, trying to decide how to proceed the evening. What she didn’t notice was that your face was inches from hers. 

“Y’know, Luce, I can hear your thoughts inside your pretty head.” Your pretty head, that was all it took for her to realize you knew it was her. Lucy swallowed hard, raising her eyes to meet your hazy stare.

“I-I didn’t think you’d realize it w-was me. I’m sorry.” She whimpered, shame creeping up her neck. You let out a soft giggle, shaking your head slightly at the raven-haired woman. 

“How could I not? I noticed you the second you walked in. I also noticed Rachel ditch you for some loser the second you turned away from her. I always hated that bitch. She was never nice to you.” You rambled. Lucy let out a chuckle at that, knowing you were right. Rachel was by no means a good friend, but she had known her since elementary school. 

“I miss you, Luce. You have no idea.” You continued, still intently looking at the rather flustered woman. Lucy smiled weakly at you, she was glad you felt like that, now feeling guilty for the way things ended up.

“I miss you too, Y/N. I’ve been miserable without you.” She confessed, her gaze now falling to the grass at her feet. She felt your hand grasp hers, intertwining your fingers together.

“I still love you, y’know. Always will.” You mused. Lucy squeezed your hand, bringing it to her lips to lightly peck it.

“I love you too. I’m sorry for the way things ended, I never meant to hurt you the way I did.” Lucy apologized, feeling tears creep into her eyes.

“Maybe it’s for the best, right now anyways. I know your career means a lot to you, I would never ask you to step away from that. Not when I know that I was the muse for Night Shift.” You teased, hoping to cheer her up a bit, in your own fucked up way. Lucy laughed loudly at this, blinking the tears away. 

“Truer words have never been spoken.” She retorted, smiling back at you. She leaned back in her chair, taking in the astronomy before her. 

“Maybe someday, we’ll find our way back to each other. I wouldn’t mind giving us a re-do.” You quipped, speaking more to yourself than you were to her. She smiled to herself, nodding at the affirmation. You two sat in silence for what felt like hours, just enjoying the silent company as the party raged on inside. It wasn’t until the sun started to peek through the trees that you had said your respective goodbyes to each other, each heading your own separate way.

Love, A.

[slafkovskys]

knies making u watch him fuck u in a mirror… my god😮‍💨😮‍💨

warnings: mature content (18+), language, unprotected sex, dom/sub undertones

“excuse me,” you freeze at the familiar voice of your mother. you turn your head to find her standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows raised, “weren’t you supposed to be out of here thirty minutes ago?”

“i could ask you the same question,” you send her a nervous smile that she doesn’t buy and your shoulders fall as you slump against the wall with a huff. she taps her foot once and you scramble to come up with the best excuse that you could for still hanging around your house when you were explicitly told not to, “celeste and i decided to go see a movie and i need my big purse to sneak snacks in.”

you can tell by the look she sends you that she doesn’t believe your story, but with a wave of her hand she dismisses you, telling you to “make it quick.”

with a sigh of relief, you turn and quickly make your way to the top of the stairs, pushing open the door to your bedroom. you cross the floor and push the curtain out of the way, looking into the backyard. you see a lot of the boys that your father trained during the off-season (some you recognized, some you didn’t) but not the one that you really wanted to see.

your shoulders drop and you let the curtains fall back into place while you start looking around for what you had originally came for. you find it sitting on the top shelf of your closet and when you go to reach for it, you nearly scream as a pair of arms wrap around your waist. there’s a breathy chuckle against your ear and only then do you relax because you realize who it was. his arms loosen, but he doesn’t let you go, “did i scare you?”

you turn in his arms and shove at his chest, “you’re going to get us in trouble.”

“not if you stay quiet,” matthew mumbles, running his hands down your waist and playing with the hem of your sundress that you had so stubbornly worn, “can you do that for me, babe?”

you nod your head, unable to form the words that he wants but he’s having none of that. he sends a sharp slap to the upper part of your thigh and you take a deep inhale, squeezing his biceps, “i’ll be quiet, matty. i promise.”

“good girl,” he puts two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him, “now i’m going to tell you what’s going to happen and you’re going to listen, responding with words. i need to know you’re okay with what’s happening. i may not be very nice about it because we don’t have a lot of time, okay?”

“yes sir,” it slips from your lips easily and he grins, pressing his mouth to your own. you grab onto his wrist like it was a lifeline, keeping you grounded as he walks you over to your bed. he sits down and pulls you down on top of him, “matty-”

“this is what’s going to happen, honey. i’m going to fuck you and you’re going to watch me do it,” he says it so normally, so casually, and your cheeks burn. he chuckles at the confusion that takes over your face, turning you in his lap so you’re facing the mirror positioned across from your bed. everything clicks into place then and he places a kiss on your shoulder, “you’re going to ride me and you’re going to walk out of here with me dripping out of you. you’re not cumming so don’t think you are. if you do this for me, i promise i’ll make it up to you later. are you okay with that?”

his fingers slip under the hem of your dress and you nod your head. before he can reprimand you, you swallow the lump in your throat, “i’m okay with it.”

he pushes your dress up and chuckles when he finds you bare underneath, “you slut. did you come over here expecting to get fucked? tell me the truth.”

“i- maybe. i didn’t know if you were going to be here.”

“you didn’t know if i was going to be here? so you would’ve gotten it from anyone then?” his fingers dip between your folds collecting some of the wetness that had formed. on instinct, your legs close around his hand and he scolds you, “if that’s how you’re going to act, i’ll just go back downstairs…”

“no, i- it’s, i wouldn’t have gotten it from anyone. only you. it’s just yours. i’m yours.”

“i know that you are,” he pushes your legs apart, “now i want you to watch me and tell me what i’m about to do to you. if you close your eyes, i stop. do you understand?”

“i do,” you let out breathlessly as he rubs his thumb over your clit before sinking his fingers into your heat in one go. you tense against his chest and he uses his free hand to pat your thigh, reminding you of your task, “you, you’re going to fuck me and i’m going to watch.”

“what are you supposed to do, honey?”

“ride you,” your eyes connect in the mirror and he has a smirk on his lips as he slips a third finger beside his ring and index. you gasp in surprise, “matty-”

“keep going, y/n. they’re going to notice i’m gone soon.”

“i need to ride you and make you cum, but i- i can’t. i’m going to be good though so that i can,” you take a deep breath, “and when you’re done, you’re gonna make me walk out of here with you dripping out of me.”

“damn right i am,” his hand wraps around your neck and forces it back, pressing his lips to yours roughly. he lets it last for a second, still working you open before he pulls away enough to utter the words, “get my dick out. i can’t wait anymore.”

he brings his fingers to his lips while you pull his cock free, rubbing it up your slit a few times to gather the wetness on it before starting to push it in. you gasp, the stretch like nothing you had felt before and having to view it from this angle was a different type of stimulant. when your dress slips, matthew grabs it in one hand and pulls you back against his chest once your are fully seated on his lap, “look at how well you’re taking me, baby. taking me like you were made for me.”

“matt, i-” you try to reach for something, “i can’t-”

“you need help, honey? are you still okay with this?” his eyes flash concern for a moment as tears slip from your eyes.

“i’m fine, i just- help,” you utter and he grins, wrapping his big hands around your waist. his nails dig into your hips and you groan throwing your head back onto his shoulder as he thrusts up. he lets you get away with it for one, two, before there’s a pop to your thigh. “i’m sorry.”

“i think that you were made for me. never letting you go anywhere. look at how pretty you look taking me,” he mutters in your ear and you tilt your head forward, watching the way his thick cock stretches you open because at that point you had just become pliant on his lap, holding off your own release.

you can tell by the way his thrusts start to get sloppy he was close and when he reaches his hand between your legs to thumb at where you were most sensitive. you whine, “matty, you-”

“i know what i said, y/n, but you look too damn good right now,” is his only explanation and who are you to argue with that?

it doesn’t take long before he’s filling you with a quiet grunt and you follow not long after, him covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t working you through your release. you feel his lips against your cheek, muttering praise about how good you were and how this was absolutely not the last time you would be doing this.

“matty, i-” you take a deep breath, leaning into his chest as his hands slowly rub at your thighs, “i don’t think that i can walk.”

“oh honey,” he coos, a little mean about it, “you know that you can.”

he gives you some time to recoup on his lap before he’s gently nudging you away. you stand on shaky legs while he tucks himself back into his shorts, a stupid little smirk on his lips as he watches you shift your weight from side to side. he pulls you in again and you gasp as his finger traces the line of his cum that had begun to slip out. he’s almost proud when he says, “keep your window open. as long as you're good, i’ll come back and clean you up tonight.”

with a final pat to your leg, he stands up and slips out of your bedroom, leaving you frozen in the middle very aware of his implication of what cleaning you up entailed…

and you couldn’t wait.

[slutforthanatos]

So, I have a weakness for blondes. Armin Arlert x Reader. I want to write fantasy! So, thusly, I guess this is a very obvious fantasy romance. Armin is an angel, and the reader is a curious woman who has a weakness for pretty boy made by God. Reader is in college. This may become a series if I want it to be one. CW: Talk of car accidents, death. Religion.

It was a typical night with your friends. You all were sitting around a campfire, talking like how you usually do. You all had came upon the topic of the Bible, and angels, to be exact. "So, y/n, do you believe in angels?" Your friend says, curiously prodding. "I'm logic brained. If there is proof of such, then I'm open to finding it. But, in the world of science, my opinion would be refuted." You say, shrugging. "I believe a lot of things."

You actually didn't know what to believe. You seemed more inclined to believe in such, but you also were such a science nerd that your logic overpowered your fantasy-like beliefs.

"I need to get going, I have shit to do." You say, standing up from the log you were sitting on. "See ya!"

You began your walk home, your earbuds blasting your favorite music as you walked down the empty highway. Was it stupid of you to be walking down a highway in the middle of the night? Maybe, but you had to take this way home, and you were pretty sure that you could tell if a car was coming.

It wasn't until you were only 15 minutes from your house, when a car came speeding down the highway, headlights off. You instinctively went to move, but when the car slid, it knocked you off your feet. Everything went black. The pain was everything, and nothing.

You came to, lying on the side of the road. Road rash covered your thighs, but you were alive. You stare up at the sky, the sun just getting ready to come up. "That was a close one." You hear a voice say. Surprised, you sit up- well, you try to. The pain of your raw thighs and aching fucking back causes you to groan out in pain. "Who was that?" You ask, feeling like shit.

"It was me." You hear the masculine voice say. Turning around, you see a pair of strikingly gorgeous blue eyes. Then you see beautiful blonde locks, and then, a pair of golden wings. "Nice costume, guy. Did you see me get hit or some shit?" You say, thinking it's just some guy walking the highway.

"What do you mean costume?" He stands up, his hands locking under your armpits as he pulls you to your feet. "I'm your Guardian Angel." The reply would've made you laugh in disbelief, if it hadn't been for the feeling of your own knees practically collapsing beneath you. "Guardian Angel, yeah." You say, turning around to face the beautiful man behind you.

Now, if it came down to solely looks, you would believe he's an angel. He looked perfectly sculpted by, well, God. Broad shoulders nicely accentuated a narrow waist, while his wings glimmered as if they weren't some flimsy Halloween costume.

"Alright, if you're an angel, give me a reason to believe you." You say. "Okay. Your name is Y/N L/N, you were born on (D/O/B), you're a lover of science, and...." He pauses. "You have a weakness for blondes."

"So you probably found my ID on me, and you're trying to worm your way into my likes." You say. "I need a real reason, or I'm just gonna fuck off." "Alright. When you were twelve, you wrote the word 'Fuck' in your diary. You were so worried that your parents would find it, that you buried it in your backyard."

"That's it? Really?" You say. "I was expecting some real heavy shit." "I wanna see you fly then. Show me that your wings work." He jumps up, levitating slightly. His wings flap, sending him into the air. He flies around, his arms wide out, as he maps out the sky. He lands back on the ground. Walking closer to you, he asks, "Is that enough?".

"Well, okay." You say, looking around. "So what happened to me?" "You got hit. I saved you within an inch of your life. Such is my duty." He says. "Alright, wait, here's a test. Did you hear me talking about angels last night? You must've arranged some kind of fates shit so that you could prove to me that angels exist." And hot angels, too, you think.

"I was sent to prove a point. I was also sent to protect you." He says. "So, are you gonna fly back to Heaven, or are you my bodyguard now?" You say. "I always was, Y/N. You just couldn't see me before."

While you both are walking home, you can't help but be curious about him. "So, do you have any type of marking to show you're an angel?" You ask. He holds out his wrist, a symbol written on it. It simply says the word 'Divine'. "Badass tattoo." You joke. He glares at you, slightly, before clapping back. "Like the tattoo on your hip that you've been hiding from your family for years, even though you're an adult?"

Hey, now. "Are you trying to keep proving that you're an angel? Cause that whole flying thing really knocked my socks off." "You could've seen the tattoo when I was out."

"You're right, I could've." He simply says.

You arrive at your house, opening the door. "Alright, Guardian Angel.. I'm gonna go take a shower." You stare at the impeccably beautiful man on your front porch. "Do you want to, like, come in?"

"I go wherever you go. Such is my duty." He says. "So, we're roommates now?" You ask. "God willed it."

You let the angelic man into your house, his wings being slightly unable to fit through the door. I guess the person who built this house didn't expect an entire fucking angel to be living here, but oh well.

"Well, I'll be in the bathroom." You say, walking over to the hallway. You're astounded to see him following you. You stop, facing him. "I kinda, like, have to be alone for this." You say. "I go wherever you go. I have to look out for you." "Right, but, with all due respect, this is something completely different than me walking home." You say. Not that you were repulsed by the thought of this very beautiful man showering with you, but you honestly did think that all of this was moving incredibly fast.

"As you wish. I will stay here." He sits on your bed. It's not like he hasn't seen me showering before, you think. You come out of the shower, seeing him still sitting on the bed. He's like, a robot, you think. "Did you sit there the whole time?" You say. "What else was I supposed to do?" He says. "I don't know, what do angels usually do?" "We sleep, until given our task. We perform our task, until the angel of Death performs his." Okay. That totally made sense. Not. "So, don't you want to learn about the human world? So that you don't sit here all day?" You say. "I only have time to look out for you. Nothing else." "Well, you're gonna be spending a lot of time with me, so you can learn about the human world." He sighs. "I'm an angel. I don't need to do human things. I am here to help the humans." "At least try this." You hand him a treat. It's a piece of a chocolate bar. "Chocolate?" He says. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a need to eat-" "Come on, I'm asking nicely." "Fine." He sighs, biting the chocolate. "It tastes sweet." "You like it, right?" "I enjoy it, yes. But it is not part of my task to eat chocolate."

Oh, come on, Guardian Angel. Lighten up. "If you're gonna insist on living with me, then I want you to shoot the shit with me." You say. "Shoot the what?" He asks. "I mean talk with me, Guardian Angel." You say. "What's your name, anyways?"

"I wasn't given a name." He speaks. "Then, I'm going to let you pick one." You say, bringing out your phone. You search up male names, and you click on the first link you see. "Pick one!" You say. He stares at the screen in his hand. "I do not need a name, but thank you." "Come on, there wasn't one there that you liked?" You prod. "I'll give you one, then. I'm picking 'Armin' for you."

"It is the name you have given me. I will respond to it." He speaks. "You need rest. Your body is tired." You can't argue with that, since you're pretty tired. You get into bed, wrapping the covers around you. Your angel- Armin, sits next to you. "Goodnight, Y/N." He says. "Goodnight, Armin."

dividers by benkeibear

[cbk1000]

And part three. (Final part; sorry this is so long: it has been a fucking long four months.)

No problem, Doctor Dipshit, I guess I'll just do your job and continue treating myself.

After my period ends, my heart rate drops again. It's still not as low as it should be, but it's much better. I continue to gradually improve. It's not a linear process; some days are better than others, but I never feel as bad as I did at the beginning of all this. My main issue is really my heart rate at this point; I'm no longer dizzy, I don't have the extreme weakness I had, my nausea is gone, I'm sleeping much better, and I'm a lot less tired than I was even before all this started. But the high heart rate keeps me still mostly bedbound, and I'm gnashing my teeth, because at this point I feel well enough to be mad about it, instead of just lying in bed trying to stave off death.

I finally start turning a corner, almost three months into taking supplements. My heart rate is consistently lower; even my last period wasn't as rough. (I felt a little worse than I had been, but my heart rate didn't spike, and I mostly just felt more run down than I normally would during my period.)

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been able to sit and stand and walk around for much longer, and I was finally, after months, able to start writing again. My heart rate is still a bit higher than it should be, and I have chest pain and tightness that radiates into my throat (it almost feels like an asthma attack) if I exert myself too much, but I can sit up for a good couple, few hours at a time, then lie down for a few minutes till those symptoms improve, and then get back up again. It is more exhausting to do things because of this, but I still, honestly, feel less tired than when I was a fully functioning, 'normal' person, and I've noticed that the horrible, frequent anxiety attacks I was having multiple times a week, out of nowhere, with no trigger, haven't happened since I started supplementing. I have been stressed, of course, but not baselessly anxious. Apparently iron deficiency can cause or worsen anxiety, so the anxiety I was having for the last couple of years that I attributed to all the changes at work, and how generally stressful the world has been, was also likely related to this.

Today, three and a half months after starting iron supplements, I'm writing this sitting up at my computer. I have some chest pain, but right now it's more of an annoyance than anything, and I can push through for a while before I'll need to lie down for a bit. The last week I have been able to write 27,000 words, animatedly play a video game I'm into at the moment (I shout a lot when I play), take Seamus outside multiple times a day while Mr. Jenn is at work (albeit for very short walks around the backyard, but still), edit, and concentrate on my reading. I can now sit out and eat dinner at our countertop and visit with Mr. Jenn. I spend more time up now than I do in bed. Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment with a non-lunatic, and will hopefully be able to get medical clearance to finally return to work (Mr. Jenn and I have rigged up my desk so that I can recline and still see my monitors and work if I need more than my allotted breaks to rest) and an order for an iron infusion to get me the rest of the way more quickly. It has been the longest four months of my life. I have felt trapped in my own body. There were points during that constant back and forth of regressing a bit, improving a bit, regressing a bit, that I was afraid I would be stuck like that forever. I've had enough of consistently being on my feet day after day over the last few weeks that, while I'm not yet at 100% and know it will still probably be a while before I am, I know I will be, eventually. I actually feel confident in that now.

What I mean to say with these three very long-winded posts is, please do not ignore what your body is telling you. I wrote off the extreme fatigue, and anxiety, and burning and tingling I was feeling in my legs and feet as poor sleep, the world going to shit, muscle strain, etc. etc. That was my body trying to tell me something was really wrong. I did not know these were symptoms of iron deficiency; and not everyone gets them, and not everyone gets such severe symptoms that their entire body shuts down and confines them to bed for months: but there was something wrong with me, probably for years, and I ignored that, and wrote it off, because the symptoms were non-specific, and I'd lived with them for so long that I normalized them. If you are having any of these symptoms, especially fatigue, especially if you're menstruating, and especially especially if most of your iron sources aren't from meat, please get an iron panel done. Not your CBC; that will only tell you if your hemoglobin is ok, and I can tell you, as exhibit A, that just because your hemoglobin is normal, does not mean you don't have iron deficiency. B12 deficiency will cause some of these same symptoms as well, so if you're vegetarian, definitely get that checked as well.

The only reason I was able to put two and two together was because I had had similar cardiac issues after a blood donation, when it was easy to go, "Wait, I think you bled too much; let's put some iron back in you." I don't want to think about how long I might have been stuck like this getting booted from specialist to specialist with no one thinking to check my iron levels because my hemoglobin was normal. If you do not have enough of this one single mineral in your body, it can literally be debilitating. I work a desk job from home; I have been out of work for four months now because I haven't even been able to sit up at a desk. I actually ran out of legally-protected medical leave a month ago and am just lucky that my employer wants to keep me enough that they were willing to put me on personal leave until I was ready to come back.

Anyway, that is my extremely long update. I sincerely appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I'm doing.

[amourtoken]

ok but how far does ur matt piss kink go because there are SO many options apart from what i’ve already seen on ur blog

• him intentionally making u drink lots of water (“baby you GOTTA stay hydrated!!!”) but not letting u go pee until he says you can

• hybrid piss/petplay kink: you can only pee when he takes u out in your backyard, collared and leashed up

• he is DEF making you hold it while he fucks you but absolutely NOT stopping until you piss yourself all over his cock

• alternatively: *he’s* been staying hydrated, he’s fucking the absolute life out of you when he stops moving and starts pissing inside you. you thought you felt full with his cock? just wait until it’s plugging his piss inside of you ://///

• him wanting to have you kneel while he pisses on you (bonus points if you let him do it on your face. bigger bonus points if your mouth is open!!!!)

ANYWAYS i think by now u know i am entirely too horny and kinky for my own good so i HAD to throw out these other thoughts n ideas for good measure hope u understand xoxox

love always, most horny and fucked up bitch alive, twilighttwowayvision

I feel like I've already lost my shame on this account so I can be open abt my freak ass thoughts however if I'm far enough into the cloudy sub space brain I'd HAPPILY let the mf piss on/in me so 💀 YOUR THOUGHTS ARE APPRECIATED BABE <3

This was entirely a joke at first and that was my first mistake bc that's always how my kinks start LOOK AT ME NOW!!!!

Anyway js he'd find multiple ways to tease u abt it before it even happened like he's constantly asking if u can bring him water and like the first 2 times u were like "OK this is a normal amount" but by like the 4th one in a very short time period you kinda get the idea.

[taraljc]

After the Hela episode of What If...?, I rewatched Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten Rings and it is exactly as delightful as I remembered it being and I really really I'm going to be pissed off if we don't get another Shang-Chi film soon. like I could give a fuck about the Kang Dynasty but I definitely want to see Shang and Katy figuring out cosmic shit with Wong.

Speaking of Wong and that tag, one of my favourite running gags continues to be Carol desperately trying to avoid being press ganged into the Avengers or even being Avengers adjacent. The whole 'Bruce has got my number,' and Bruce responding 'I do not. I do not have her number. She does this a lot.'

(I do however absolutely believe that she and King Valkyrie are low-key dating.)

And just imagining how much Kamala is going to force her to interact with the world now that she is actually moved out of her spaceship and back into the Rambeau house until Monica gets back brings me such delight and especially I would like to know when Sam is going to show up to be neighbourly.

Cos you know it is only going to take about 15 seconds before Sarah lets him know that the grapevine has already been going crazy with another Avenger in NOLA. And Carol would be like how did you even find out and Kamala be like 'that would be me I posted on Instagram I'm by the way totally managing your fan page unofficially on Instagram and I didn't post the address of your house or anything' when in fact she totally geotagged a selfie like from the backyard.

I also love that despite Jersey City being as far away from New Orleans as you can be in many ways, the Khan family has accepted Carol as one of their own and helped her unpack and probably do a bunch of stuff that she had no idea how to do like get the electricity and phone and water and gas switched over to her name so she could pay them and she's like I have no money and Nick Fury face-palming like I will get you money.

(And the whole flashback with Maria being like so you need to take the cat and she's like oh no no no no we have had this discussion as if the cat is sort of their adopted child that they share custody of which I completely understand because lemon sharks and I share custody of Flynn and thank God Flynn does not have the ability to eat an entire cargo shipment and then throw it up a week later on the carpet.)

anyway I'm going to be seriously pissed off if Monica Rambeau is just written off being in a different Earth in the multiverse and we never get to see her and Sam meet. That will make me very very angry and I would like that not to happen, and I want to have faith I really do. But I do not entirely have faith? there has been a small lack of faith. especially when The Marvels did just fine and yet is being declared a huge box office bomb when it did the same numbers as other movies that were considered modest successes. It's like not every superhero movie needs to be a gigantic tent pole movie that brings in a hundred bajillion dollars some of them are just ladies road trip movies that happened to take place in space.