#eye crinkles are so sacred

[andy-clutterbuck]

(◡‿◡✿)

[theostrophywife]

dress.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: dress by taylor swift.

author's note: can't stop thinking about that anon that called me out on being feral for theo yet soft for my baby boy cutie pie sweetie enzo. they were so right, but can you blame me? enzo is the pretty boy. he invented baby girlism.

“How do I look?” 

Beautiful. 

Breathtaking. 

Devastating. 

Enzo blinked away the words that materialized in his mind, shaking off the thoughts that he had no business thinking about his best friend. His honey eyes darkened as you descended the winding staircase, the billowing skirt of your ball gown kissing the checkered floor of your family’s mansion. 

The pretty lilac shade complimented your complexion, making you glow underneath the crystal chandelier. Every curve draped in luxurious velvet fabric, like temptation wrapped in a pretty little bow just to torment him. 

“Earth to Enzo,” you teased, poking at your best friend’s shoulder with a gloved finger. “Have I lost you?”

Enzo sucked in a breath, relishing in the sight of you. “Sorry. You look…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “You look stunning, Y/N.” 

Your smile nearly took his breath away. The action lit up your entire face, crinkling the corner of your eyes in the most endearing way. Enzo was entranced as you straightened his tie, pinching his cheek because you both knew that he secretly loved it.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Berkshire.” The playful tone of your voice made his heart skip a beat, the steady rhythm echoing in his ears as Enzo offered you his arm. “The girls will be envious of my handsome escort.”

“I think they’ll be more envious of that dress,” Enzo murmured softly. The smooth, low cadence of his voice flowed through you like honey. “I don’t think anyone will be able to keep their eyes off of you tonight, love.” 

Including him. 

The ballroom was filled to the brim with guests from the sacred and influential families, the women dressed to the nines in silk, lace, and velvet, their ears and wrists and necks dripping with diamonds. The men wore impeccably fitted suits with watches and family heirloom rings that cost more than a year’s worth of wages. 

All around the room, attendees nursed their cocktails and indulged in the impressive spread of hors d'oeuvres, whispering excitedly about the grandeur and opulence of the ball your family hosted every year, but he barely picked up on their conversations. Enzo smiled and nodded politely, but his attention wasn’t on any of them. 

Instead, the entirety of his focus fell on you. Enzo watched as you chatted and charmed the crowd, even going so far as gaining a slight smile from his surly uncle Lucius, who was notoriously unimpressed by anything and everything. Your best friend was entirely convinced that you could’ve charmed the feathers off of a hippogriff. 

“What a delightful girl you are. Exactly the type of lady young Lorenzo should be courting.” Lucius drawled. “Draco would do well to follow his cousin’s example.” 

Narcissa smiled. “I’m afraid our son is too late. These two are quite smitten with each other already.” 

Neither one of you corrected the couple. There was truly no use. Despite the countless attempts at clarifying the nature of your relationship, the adults still assumed that the two of you were together. Sometimes it was just easier to play along. Enzo had no complaints. Especially not when you placed a kiss on his cheek and nodded in agreement. 

“Can you blame me, Mrs. Malfoy?” You teased, winking at Enzo. “Lorenzo’s quite the catch. Anyone would be lucky to have such a perfect gentleman by their side.” 

Enzo tried not to blush as Lucius and Narcissa nodded in approval. Luckily, his aunt and uncle moved along, allowing you to greet the other guests. Throughout the night, Enzo stayed by your side, chiming in when needed, refilling your drinks when you ran out, and feeding you appetizers in between breaks. The rest of his friends teased him for it, but Enzo was perfectly content with playing the part of escort. 

“Mother was right. Y/N has every male in here eating out of her hand,” Draco said, looking over at you in appreciation as he took a sip of champagne. “Can’t blame them. That dress is something else. She looks proper fit.” 

“You don’t stand a chance, Malfoy.” Mattheo scoffed as he popped a bacon wrapped fig into his mouth. 

Theo nodded in agreement, eyes glazed over from the smoke break that he and Mattheo took in the gardens earlier. “Blondes aren’t Y/N’s type.” His mouth quirked as he glanced over at Enzo. “Isn’t that right, Berkshire?”

“You lot are insufferable,” Enzo said with an eye roll. 

He glanced over the top of his champagne glass, smiling softly to himself as he watched his mum fawn over you. She often joked about taking her engagement ring out of the Gringott’s vault despite the fact that Enzo repeatedly told her that the two of you weren’t in a relationship. Along with everyone else, his parents seemed convinced that the two of you were meant to be. 

“What’s the matter, cousin? Jealous that Y/N might take a liking to me?” 

“She’d sooner snog a rat,” Enzo replied sarcastically. 

“A ferret is close enough, isn’t it?” asked Regulus.

“Malfoy might stand a chance after all,” was Tom’s deadpan response. 

Mattheo chuckled. “Good one, brother. Come on, lads. We should let Enzo get back to his date.” 

With a sigh, Enzo downed his champagne glass before rejoining your side. You were in deep conversation with his parents, but broke out into a goofy grin the minute you caught sight of him. 

“There’s my handsome date,” you exclaimed. “I must say, you raised quite a gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Berkshire. I couldn’t have asked for a better escort. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he looks quite handsome in a suit.”

Enzo flushed as you straightened his tie. His father smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I reckon Lorenzo gets that from me.”

“No doubt, Mr. Berkshire. All the ladies seem to think so. Perhaps I should stop hogging him to myself and give the others a chance.”

“Try as you might, Lorenzo only has eyes for you, dear.” Enzo groaned, blushing at his mum’s embarrassing statement. “What? It’s true. You two make a beautiful couple.”

Enzo was about to correct his mother for the millionth time, but you simply slipped your gloved hand through his elbow and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Berkshire. We clean up rather well, don’t we?” 

You giggled as Enzo turned red in the face. Completely unaware of his desire to melt into the marble floor, his mother flashed you a pleased smile. “There’s no need for formalities. I insist that you call me Helene. You’re practically family at this point. Though I do hope my son will add you into the Berkshire brood soon enough. Speaking of which, what is your ring size, dear?”

Never in his life had Enzo felt so mortified. It was one thing to have the adults mistake you for a couple, but to have his mother imply marriage was an entirely different beast. One that Enzo had no plans of tackling tonight. 

“That’s our cue for a dance. I think you’ve kept our gracious host long enough, mum.” 

His mother started to protest until his father placed an arm around her shoulder. “Now, now, my love. Let the children be. Plenty of time to discuss serious matters during Y/N’s next visit, which we hope will be soon. Our grand piano has been feeling a bit neglected lately and we have missed your lovely rendition of the classics.”

“Well we certainly can’t have your Steinway sit idle for too long. I promise to come by for tea before term starts.” You kissed both of his parents on the cheek. A friendly gesture that he had never seen them engage in with any of his friends. “It’s always a pleasure, Helene and Henry. Now if you’ll excuse us, Lorenzo and I are about to put those waltz lessons to good use.”

Enzo’s father clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let this young lady get away, Lorenzo.”

The tips of Enzo’s ears went positively red as his parents departed. “Sorry about that. I’ve tried to tell them that we aren’t dating, but as you can see, it’s fallen on deaf ears.” 

You grinned, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “It’s alright. I truly don’t mind. Your parents are quite charming. Clearly you inherited that trait.” You rubbed at the kiss print you left behind and giggled. “Now, I believe you promised me a dance, Mr. Berkshire.” 

Enzo smiled, his arm already circling around your waist. “I always keep my promises, Ms. Y/L/N. Prepare to be swept off your feet, love.” 

Time seemed to still as Enzo escorted you onto the dancefloor. You beamed at him, curtsying with a silly grin while he bowed in return. The two of you waltzed together as the live musicians played a soft and slow tune. Enzo couldn’t help but admire you as you twirled around in your pretty lilac dress. A few curls fell out from your updo, sweeping against your rosy cheeks while you fell into step with him. As he held you tightly against him, Enzo hoped to Merlin that the music was loud enough to drown out the rapid beating in his chest. 

Deny it as he may, Enzo knew deep down that his heart only beat for you anyways. 

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Ever the gracious host, you personally said goodbye to each guest until the last person left the manor. Given the late hour, you insisted that Enzo stay the night, a request that was quickly turned into a command by your parents. They adored Enzo as much as you did, perhaps even more. Though he doubted that their affection would remain the same if they knew the filthy thoughts that plagued him every time he stayed over. 

“C’mon, Enz,” you said, tugging at his hand. “Last person up the stairs has to pick up croissants in the morning!”

Enzo chuckled before breaking into a sprint. You squealed as he gained in on you, gathering your dress up in your hands while slipping your heels off and making a run for it. You nearly tripped on the taffeta, but luckily Enzo caught you around the waist and hauled you over his shoulder. 

“I guess we both lose, honey.” 

You giggled as Enzo marched into your room before discarding you gently on the four poster bed. He smiled as you sprawled out on the mattress and dragged him down beside you. Scooting up against the pillows, Enzo traced the initials that the two of you carved against your bedpost when you were ten. 

“Do you remember the day we carved those in?” 

Enzo nodded. “The summer before our first year at Hogwarts.” He smiled as he recalled the memory. “We were both so scared of being sorted into different houses, but you said that if we carved our initials together, then nothing would be able to separate us.” 

“Mum and dad were furious,” you said with a chuckle. “But it was worth it. Ten years later and it still stands true. If we’re lucky, it’ll last for an eternity.” 

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Enzo declared. “I’d still be by your side even when the carvings fade.” 

You smiled softly and turned over to face him. Enzo brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, those honey eyes flickering with emotion. “Do you really think so? What about when we both get married? I don’t think your wife would appreciate me hanging around, Enz.” 

“That won’t be a problem,” Enzo countered confidently. 

You traced over his dimple, memorizing the feel of his skin underneath your fingertips. “How can you be so sure?” you teased. 

“Because you’re the only one I could ever picture myself marrying.” 

The gravity of his words settled between you. Enzo almost wished he could take it back if not for the relief that flooded his entire body now that he had spoken his true feelings out loud. After years of silence and patience, of pining and anticipating, of hands shaking from holding back from you, Enzo felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. 

Whether or not you returned the sentiment mattered very little to him. All Enzo knew was that he loved you and he could no longer sit here and pretend that you weren’t carved into his heart and soul like a golden tattoo. 

“Lorenzo,” you whispered softly. If it were anyone else, Enzo would’ve loathed hearing his full name, but the moment you said it, everything just stopped. “I don’t want you like a best friend.” 

His heart stopped beating. “Do you mean that, Y/N?” 

“Of course I mean it,” you affirmed. “You’re my favorite person. You’re not only my best friend, but you’re my lifeline. We’ve seen each other through the best and worst of times and somehow we haven’t grown sick of each other and I don’t think we ever will. You’re the only person I see myself marrying too, Enzo. You’re my one and only.” 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he whispered softly, noses brushing close. “Though it’s not nearly as long as I’ve waited to do this.” 

You held your breath as Enzo leaned forward, closing the gap between you. The space that signified the boundary of your friendship was nearly nonexistent now, filled with longing looks and shaking hands. Your eyes fluttered close as soon as your lips met. 

With a shaky exhale, you melted into Enzo’s arms as he clutched you close. One hand weaved around your waist while the other cupped your jaw. You sighed into the kiss, relishing the feel of his lips against yours. Enzo tasted like champagne, making you dizzy with the sweetness as he deepened the kiss. You giggled as Enzo tugged you into his lap, tracing your fingers over the initials on the headboard before tangling them in his hair. 

The feel of Enzo was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. This was your best friend. You knew every scar and mole and freckle by heart, but the soft sighs and plush lips were an entirely new experience that you longed to explore. 

“I wish you hadn’t waited so long,” you whispered against his lips. “We could’ve been doing this all along.” 

“We have all the time in the world to make up for it, my love.” Enzo caressed your cheek with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. “Do you even know how hard it’s been to hold myself back? How many times I’ve had to physically restrain myself from kissing the breath right out of you this night alone?” 

“You’re not alone in that. You look so damn good in that suit, it should honestly be considered a crime.”

Enzo chuckled as you straightened his lapel. “If this suit is a crime, then that dress would land you a cell in Azkaban. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire night.” 

“Good,” you said with a cheeky smile. “I only bought this dress so you could take it off.” 

Those innocent honey brown eyes darkened as Enzo toyed with the strap of your dress, kissing every bit of exposed skin available to him. “Allow me to do this properly, then. Now that I have you, I intend to savor every smile, every touch, and every kiss you give me.” 

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as Enzo tugged at the laces of your dress, carefully unraveling you like his own personal gift. He helped you wriggle out of the purple fabric, sliding the dress down over your body with such gentleness and care. Your lips met once more as you slid off his jacket, your fingers making quick work of the button shirt underneath as well. When both of your clothes were piled up on your bedroom floor, Enzo lifted his head up to properly look at you. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he drank in the sight before him. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Enzo breathed, his voice full of awe and wonder. He tugged at the ribbons in your hair, setting your curls free. 

Tenderly, Enzo laid you back on the mattress and captured your lips with his. As promised, he took his time exploring every inch of your body. Slender fingers caressed your skin, eliciting satisfied sighs while Enzo lavished you with kisses. He groaned as your fingers tangled through his hair, pulling him impossibly close until you couldn’t tell where you began and he ended. 

You moved as one, the trust and care evident between you and Enzo. He knew you better than anyone. Knew all the quirks and flaws and oddities that made you you. Enzo knew how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to look at you in a way that made you feel like he truly saw you. 

Enzo pressed his forehead against yours. “We don’t have to rush. I’m perfectly content to wait until you’re ready.” 

It was sweet and such an incredibly Enzo thing to say. Even after waiting all this time, all he cared about was that you were comfortable. 

“I think we’ve both had our fill of waiting.” You smiled up at him, cradling his jaw. He leaned into your touch like he was savoring every bit of affection he could get. “I’ve never felt more ready for anything in my life. I trust you more than I trust myself. I love you, Lorenzo Berkshire.” 

The smile on Enzo’s face was blinding. It was like feeling the sunshine on your skin after years in darkness. It was golden. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” Enzo confessed. “I think I’ve loved you even before I knew what love was.” 

“My one and only,” you whispered, peppering kisses along his jaw. “My lifeline.” 

With heartbreaking gentleness, Enzo wrapped your legs around his waist. Honey eyes latched onto yours as he hovered over you, his astute gaze flickering over your face as he eased into you. Enzo was slow and gentle, giving you time to adjust to his size and brushing your hair out of your face while lavishing you with luxurious kisses. You moaned into his mouth as his hips met yours, feeling full and content, like joining your bodies together in this way was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Look at me, honey. I want to see those pretty eyes.” 

Your eyes opened to the most beautiful sight. The candlelit room cast a hazy glow over everything, bathing Enzo with its soft golden light. Your chest tightened as you admired him, fingertips grazing the curve of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones, the cheeky dimples that you loved so much, the perfect aquiline nose, and the dark lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes. In the dim light, they looked like pools of honey and you felt like a fly swimming in liquid gold. 

“You’re beautiful too, Enzo. Like a work of art,” you beamed as he flushed. “My pretty boy.” 

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. Not unless you want this to be finished quicker than it started.” 

You chuckled. “Is that so? Have I found your weakness?”

Enzo groaned, shifting his hips in a way that had you moaning underneath him. “You are my weakness, my love.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and rolling your hips against his. “Show me how weak I make you, pretty boy.” 

The precarious thread of self control that Enzo was desperately holding onto snapped. With a roll of his hips, he set a pace that had you clawing at the sheets. He chuckled darkly as you clambered for control, nails raking at his back before finding purchase in his hair. You tugged hard, desperate for more. 

“Oh god, Enzo.” You moaned as he slammed into you, feeling boneless as he silenced your sounds with a filthy kiss. 

“You wanted to see what you do to me?” Enzo teased, gripping your hips to hold you in place while he slid all the way out. The head of his cock barely brushed your cunt and you ached to feel all of him again. You whimpered in response as he teased you, taunted you. “You drive me fucking insane, Y/N. I think about this, every second of every day. You’re all I want. You’re all I need.” 

“So have me,” you breathed. “Have all of me, Enzo.” 

You groaned as Enzo slammed back in. It felt good to be full of him. It felt right. You murmured as much into his mouth, canting your hips to his as he raised your arms above your head and twined your fingers together. In that moment, there was nothing in the world but you and Enzo—the boy you loved making love to you. 

Despite the lust swimming in his eyes, something softer reared from underneath the surface. A look that Enzo had given you countless times over the years. A look that was pure love and adoration. Your heart swelled as you squeezed his fingers. 

“I love it when you look at me like that,” you whispered.

“Like you’re my whole world?” Enzo murmured against your lips. “You are, you know.” 

You kissed him, slow and deep. “You’re mine, too.” 

“Don’t take those pretty eyes off of me, honey.” Enzo said as he pushed your body to the brink of pleasure. “I want to watch you come apart for me.” 

“Together?” you asked, brushing the hair out of his eyes. 

“Always,” he responded. 

Enzo pressed your forehead against his, slipping past the edge with you and indulging in the sweet ecstasy of your bodies fitting perfectly together. The orgasm rocked over you first and you panted into Enzo’s mouth as he watched in awe. His own pleasure took over after a few more thrusts, your name falling sweetly from his lips as he chased the high. 

Neither one of you made any indication of moving. You were content feeling the full weight of Enzo’s blissed out body on top of yours, smiling to yourself as you ran your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily against your neck and cuddled closer. 

Enzo took your hand and kissed your fingertips. He intertwined them through his, squeezing gently as he examined your hand. 

“Four and a half.” 

“Hmm?” 

“That’s your ring size, isn’t it? I’ll have to tell mum. We’ll need to get her engagement ring resized.”

You chuckled. “Engagement ring? You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. Now you want to jump to being my fiancé?” 

“Well, girlfriend is certainly not strong enough to describe who you are to me,” He said, kissing your ring finger. “I prefer the love of my life. My future wife and the mother of my children. Though I suppose I’ll settle for fiancé.” 

“Will you at least let me get used to calling you my boyfriend first?” 

“Fine,” Enzo huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can call me your boyfriend. For now.” 

“How generous of you, Mr. Berkshire.” 

You grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. Enzo nuzzled his nose against yours, looking down at you with those innocent honey eyes. “I’ll show the future Mrs. Berkshire how generous I can be. Then you’ll be calling me your husband in no time.” 

“I like the sound of that, pretty boy.” 

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3

Masterlist

Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.

Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.

This was still the same day, right?

Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.

For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.

Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.

So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.

But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.

A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.

The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?

Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.

Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.

There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.

He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.

And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?

Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?

He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.

And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.

He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."

Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"

Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.

Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.

Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."

The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.

"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."

"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."

"Then tell me who she is."

Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."

"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"

A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."

A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.

"Deal."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

[luveline]

Hiii I literally love you and your writing especially your Eddie writing!!! Anywaysss, could I request a shy!reader where they and Eddie are dating but they kinda kept it on the down low but reader was having a bad day and was being all clingy and like everyone found out and the hellfire club was just like 😮

hi i love u ty for ur request! hope this okay ♥️ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You know you shouldn’t go to his club. It’s not fair of you. Hellfire is one of his sacred nerd rituals. As soon as he sees you like this he’ll put it on pause, and you also know – one of the only things you do know about Dungeons and Dragons — that stopping in the middle of a game interrupts the flow.

Still. You’re feeling a little selfish and a lot strung out. Today has sucked and all you’ve done is wish he was there to make you feel better, so you walk down the hallway to the club room and stand at the door, trying to summon the courage to open it.

On the other side, Mike Wheeler catches a flash of your clothes through the small glass panel and frowns. He jabs Dustin Henderson hard in the side, earning a, “What the fuck, dude?” that Mike quickly shushes.

“There’s a girl outside,” he says.

Girls are… uncommon, at Hellfire.

Dustin leans forward to look around Mike’s torso and forgets to whisper. “Is she crying?”

Eddie looks up, annoyed at being interrupted by the newbies and about to delve into a speech on respecting your dungeon master when his gaze slides past them. He spots your torso, your hands pulled up to your chest, and he knows it’s you. From the curve of your arm alone.

He’s half standing when you knock.

The rest of the group gawp as he stands. Usually, Eddie would either ignore whoever it is or have someone else answer, and his sudden willingness is downright shocking.

He cracks the door open. He’s barely had time to take in your tear stained cheeks when you’re whispering apologies. “I’m really sorry,” you say quickly, pulling the sleeves of your soft cardigan down over your hands. “I needed to see you.”

“What happened?” he asks, trying for hushed like you but missing the mark.

Mike and Dustin make incredulous faces at each other, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Mike asks.

Lucas Sinclair grins from across the table. “Who do you think?”

“You know her?” Dustin questions. He sounds pissed to have been kept out of the loop.

“Nope,” Lucas says, elbows sliding over the crinkling paper of his character sheet as he pulls in his chair. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. But that’s definitely his girlfriend.”

A handful of laughs from around the table. “Yeah, right,” Gareth says.

Lucas leans in even closer, practically conspiratorial as he points to Eddie’s dirty-white sneakers. “Look, see how close they’re standing?” When nobody looks convinced, Lucas glares. “I know what I’m talking about!”

He really does. The toes of your shoes are a hair's-width from Eddie’s, face to the ground as you scrub your wet cheeks. Telling him about your bad day has made it somehow feel better and worse, and your breathing comes shallow.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I know you’re playing your- um, your game.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder. The large majority of the group whip their faces back to their sheets, caught. He shoots a scowl at them all, though any annoyance slips away when he turns back to you. You look so sad.

Eddie doesn’t really think about it. He steps out into the hall and lets the door close behind him, arms wrapping around you placatingly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s been a really shitty day,” you say hoarsely.

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. Your shoulders tremble under his palm. “You should’ve found me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your game.”

“You haven’t. They’re on break,” he promises.

It’s a total lie but he couldn't care less about the campaign, not when you’ve come unraveled. You nod into his chest and worm your shaking hand around his waist, squeezing so tightly it aches. His head tucks over yours like it was made to and he wills some stillness into you, perturbed by your shuddering. He hates when you get like this. You're so wound up you can’t calm yourself down.

Inside the club room, there’s a riot of whispering, some quieter than others.

Lucas sits back in his chair smugly. “Dude, you have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t be so surprised,” he says to Mike.

Mike peers through the glass door with a mild disgust. “Me and my girlfriend don’t do that.”

“That is not true.”

“We don’t-“

“No, they really don’t,” Dustin agrees. “They’re too busy trying to swallow each other.

Anyone who’d been listening starts to laugh, worse when Mike’s cheeks flare red and he flips them all the bird. The laughter quickly dies when the door opens and Eddie returns, his sad maybe-girlfriend trailing behind him.

“Someone get a chair for Y/N,” is all he says.

You look like you might burst into flames on the spot. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You hate it.

“Thank you,” you say, though you aren’t sure who you’re thanking as somebody passes you a chair. Eddie sits back in his ‘throne’ and you sit beside him, cheeks dry but eyes still red and face downtrodden.

Eddie leans back and rolls his eyes at the silence. “She’s my assistant for today's session,” he says concisely, before any of them think they have the right to ask.

Eddie can’t hold your hand and you don’t think you could survive it in front of so many people, but when the game starts back up and everyone is distracted he pushes his foot behind your calf and pulls your leg toward him. There’s a smile on his face as he orchestrates the next dungeon, his pen scratching down notes you don’t understand.

He rips a page from his notebook and passes it to you covertly.

You take it and let it lie against your thighs. When you read it, you struggle to suppress a giddy smile.

Prettiest assistant ever. Think she'll let me take her out tonight?

He likes his chances.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Congrats on 5k!!!

I love little off-duty tidbits about the 141. What they get up to when they’re not on a mission, what do they do for fun on base, what do they do in their private time etc.

—Count The Hours

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

John Price: Reading ➺

It was no secret that John liked to indulge in quiet time whenever he got the chance. Always surrounded by soldiers and hurling orders eventually got to even the most skilled Captain—he was no different even if he’d been at this for countless years. 

On the days when the silent sounds of the house were able to be appreciated for what they were: the running of the laundry, the small creak of the kitchen cabinet that needed to be oiled, and the sound of your soft humming, it was a sacred turn of events. Such mundane, and normally labeled nuisances, were an excellent backdrop for the words on the page of his book that flew from the paper. Scenes unfolded from times and places long past; everything was separate. A perfect way for the mind to unwind. 

You pass by silently as John reads, kissing his forehead when he grunts in pleasure. The man lets his fingers brush your thigh as you move off to do whatever you wish. He knew you’d join him eventually. 

Reading was good, but nothing quite beat the perfect distraction that was you. 

John flips a page and absentmindedly itches at his beard.

Simon Riley: People Watching ➺

“I bet she works in a cafe,” you mutter softly. “Look at her clothes—those are cafe clothes. Gorgeous.”

Brown eyes blink at the woman in a long skirt and a neat blouse, coffee cup in hand as she walks the ground before disappearing around a bend. 

“What are bloody ‘cafe clothes’?” Simon grunts, giving you a strange look from over his balaclava. The bench you two sit on is far removed into the trees of the park, and you smile as you lean into the man and intertwine your fingers with his, stealing his body heat. 

“I can’t explain it,” you wave your free hand as Simon chuckles lowly. “Your turn.”

“Pick one for me,” he grumbles. You point to a man dressed sharply from across the path, bending down and tying his shoe as a child plays with their mother near a picnic basket and blanket. Your lips twitch into a smile. 

“Accountant,” Simon says easily, squeezing your hand as he blinks slowly, casual with his guesses. “Child’s birthday—he’ll ‘ave to go in soon.”

“Really?” You chuff under your breath. Simon hums, vision sliding about as his thumb runs over your knuckles. “I guessed a hitman.” 

The man at your side looks down once more. “You what?”

Johnny MacTavish: Hiking ➺

The both of you are covered in dirt and sweat, lying on your backs with your packs about a foot or so away; lungs working inside of your chests as you smile like fools. 

“Remind me to let you carry me back,” you pant, chuckling as the form beside you rubs at his face—pushing back the grime. Nature is all around you two, the grass behind your bones and the open sky above your heads. Johnny and you rest for a short while on top of the hill, the wind picking up from the East but not so to an unmanageable degree. 

It had been on a whim to come out here on such short notice, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t enjoyable. 

Johnny always made hiking trips enjoyable. 

“Aye,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, Dearie, I’ll manage.” A moment of shared smiles passes between you two—you reach out and push at his cheek teasingly.

Johnny chuckles and grabs at your wrist, bringing it back and laying a firm kiss on the palm that leaves your already hot cheeks burning. 

“Ready to keep going?” You’re asked delicately, those cobalt eyes crinkled with love. 

“Oh, if I must,” you tease. 

The man kisses you once more before standing, offering you a hand without a second thought through a gentle smirk.

Kyle Garrick: Cooking/Baking ➺

Kyle’s rolled-up sleeves are pushed back even more as he hums under his breath, the gentle jazz filling the room to mix with the scent of fresh bread and stew. You rest your head on the island table of your shared flat, watching as the man glances back at you and your arm pillow.

He chuckles. 

“You don’t have to watch, Love.”

“Want to,” you mutter, eyes soft. The man’s smile turns sheepish as he glances away.

The man adds what he needs and says over his shoulder cheekily as you blink. “Well come on then, I’ll need you to taste test. Tell me what it needs.”

You chuckle and stand, walking over and sliding up beside him as Kyle takes a spoon and brings some of the broth to your lips. Your hand cups under the utensil, sipping it down. 

You hum under your breath, glancing at him. 

“It’s delicious, Kyle,” your fingers go to steal the spoon, but it’s moved away from you swiftly with a teasing tsk of his tongue. 

“Ah, ah—it’s not done,” the man beams, kissing your cheek and putting the spoon down. “Patience, Love.” 

“C’mon,” you lean into him, looking up into his face. 

Instead, a kiss is pressed to your lips, making you melt as a hand comes to circle your waist. 

Kyle leans back, smirking as he licks his lips.

“More salt,” he mutters, pulling back and disappearing into the pantry as you gape after his tall form.

[yuellii]

aurora borealis green

feat. miko, kazuha, ningguang, thoma, lisa ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to listen or know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, implication of sexual intimacy ( for miko, the others do not have this )

> part one ( more characters ) / part two

YAE MIKO. false god

Her affections stemmed from a sort of sightless faith.

When she leans back downwards, pink strands all messily cascading down her shoulders, she plants the lightest of kisses on the bare stomach of your laying form. But you could tell such a small act was still the most holy of worships, almost as if she was kissing the ground of a path to an alter.

“You were so divine,” she whispers, lips plump against your skin. And it feels like sin, almost, to have the Yae Guuji speak to you as if communion was melting on her tongue. “I wonder what God I pleased to ever deserve you…” It a mumble that’s so casually said, one that is only spoken between divinity and its loyal follower.

And said loyalty was etched into her name, truly, coursing through the way her fingers traced along your hips. They were gentle, almost akin to worship.

You were no God. And yet, there was a blind faith in her eyes that swore to the Heavens about the things she would do for you—to wait centuries, to topple down Celestia, to defy the Gods themselves, all for you. But was faith really blind, when the taste of religion danced upon the lines of her lips?

You may be no God, but you were her only diety. Oh, how the real Gods of this world were probably glaring down on you now—to see the Grand Narukami shrine maiden laying atop your body in a manner of worship that was only meant for sanctity. A manner so sacred, one that she should only show to the reigning Celestia and never to you.

But when she loves you more than the Gods, you might just get away with it.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. cornelia street

He met you at sea, a Liyuen shipmate on the carefree Crux.

Carefree: He’d say that word was a great way to describe you. You were like the ocean, so unbelievably unpredictable and characteristically carefree. He swore he saw the serenity of the sea in your spirits—and when he introduced himself with a mere ‘Hello, I’m Kazuha,’ your smile in return may have haunted him for an eternity that the God of Electro could not even dare to recreate.

Kazuha grows to love the sea at the same time he grows to love you. Wishing waters practically spell out your name, and he thinks of you in a way that harmonizes to the nature of this world.

Such harmony proved to be naive, however, on one trip where Beidou sadly proclaimed you were not on this journey, and he felt sick to his stomach. It was the first time he got seasick. It was the first time ever since he step foot out of Inazuma that he felt so drearily dizzy, and it was when you were not there.

The ocean felt lonesome, he felt incomplete. And being surrounded by its ferocious vastness felt so scarily suffocating that even the sounds of waves would haunt him in his sleep.

Then it was quite telling, truly, when the moment he docked onshore, the light of your eyes greeting him with the crinkling scent of the sea came to cure his feverish feelings. He was well again, suddenly the waves felt so kind—and perhaps that was when he realized that harmony was a silly ideal; you are the ocean itself to him. Love so powerful, so beautiful, and yet so calming: his love for both was a bind he could never break.

And if he ever lost you, he’d never set sail again.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

NINGGUANG. paper rings

Kiss her once and take her to an high-end dinner, kiss her twice with a diamond ring, three times if you book the most expensive wedding in Teyvat.

That’s what she expected from the thoughtless men and cheap women of this world. Because she liked shiny things, and diamonds were a girl’s best friend. Only price tags for a woman so bejeweled—only luxury for the leading lady of a nation. But when it was you… Oh, when it was you…

In plastic gifts, in picture frames, in paper rings, you were still the one she wanted. Several times, she’s been offered the most dazzling a of rings by businessmen and high class women for a life of luxury. And yet, the one time you jokingly folded her a little paper origami ring that was too big for her finger, she felt her heart flutter in ways that could only be described in poetry written by hopeless romantics.

She wore it for the day, even taping it down to be tighter on her wedding finger. She was even sad when the paper eventually ripped, as if this ring held more value than any other ring she was ever offered. Rings that cost millions, rings that were dug up from the deepest and most dangerous mining sites of Teyvat—still beat by a ring made from thin paper.

The entirety of riches and the entirety of the elite, all forever beat by her simple lover who gave simple gifts.

But she didn’t mind. If you got down on one knee now and proposed to her with another paper ring and the most modest of smiles on your face, she would say yes even quicker than a heartbeat. Her heart would flutter, her mind would blank, her body would break down into the happiest of sobs until she’s sinking into your arms.

If another person proposed to her now with promises much more expensive than yours—promises that would fulfill the dreams of wealth from her childhood—she knows she would say no, it was more than obvious to her now.

She wants all of you. All your companionship, your complications, your confessions; Because in her values, they were all priceless.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

THOMA. gold rush

What must it be like to grow up consciously carefree?

What must it be like to grow up so beautiful, that you could have all of Inazuma trailing your footsteps for just a glance? To have both Kamisatos eyeing you, to be so carelessly happy even under the scrutinizing eyes of the elites—as if not even threats of losing your nobility could stop you from being such a fun-loving person. And even if you had pressure like that, you were still rolling as life went on, still with a smile that he so adored—

Thoma just slapped himself back into the real world.

Adoration? For someone so beautiful and so out of his reach? Really? He grumbled some scoldings to himself as he held the broomstick in one hand and his stinging cheek in the other.

He had such a stupid mind for daydreaming of such things; in fact, these thoughts weren’t even the worse of his colorful collection. Sometimes he’d think about what it would be like to actually be in love with you.

But they were such nice thoughts, really. Just the idea that he would get to see someone so gorgeous every day. He could imagine himself cooking up meals with all his love, taking care of your things just for you to return to him after your busy meetings to his adoring arms. And he’d do it all, really, anything to allow you to continue being so happy and so healthy while still remaining an Inazuman noble.

He just slapped himself again.

Who was he kidding? He didn’t have even the slightest of chances, not when everyone loved you, not when everyone wanted to be with you, and certainly not when everyone who admired you was at a better standing of nobility than he was.

You’re so easy to love… But he’s so easy to forget.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

LISA MINCI. tolerate it

If your life was one of the books in this Favonius library, then perhaps she would only be a footnote on some random page in the middle.

Perhaps she should be glad at how aware she is, but the sense of awareness only made her more frustrated than before. Because awareness meant that she knew her place in your life ( or, the lack thereof ), and knowing her place meant that she willingly ignored all the signs that pointed her to turn away.

Your friendly smiles, your distracted looks, your mild toleration: they should have been enough to tell her you weren’t interested. You only smile at her as a friend, you look distracted when she speaks to you, and your toleration was probably the worse of all.

Toleration meant you’d continue to overlook her; Toleration meant that all these advances she made were fruitless. It would mean that every favor she did for you like a little library servant was just a waste of her time.

And yet, she still did them. She still delivered all the books you requested right to your study table in the library, plus even more books related to your topic. She still told you all the information she knew on details you requested, even if they took hours to explain. Worse, she still adored you enough to pipe up every time you called her name, just happy to hear it.

But maybe you were like Jean, and maybe you were like the rest of them—you just thought she was lazy. Maybe all these acts of services were just seen to you as a part of her job instead of sleeping during her hours all day. Perhaps it isn’t as big of a deal to you like it is to her.

Because when all you give her is a little friendly smile after she exerts her love and time to you, she feels defeated even more.

[pinknightsinmymind]

CANON and the morning sex part? maybe some slow messy ✂️ ? nah i'm on my knees throbbing shaking and all

【 mornings - abby anderson | NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

MDNI NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

wc: 2.8k

content: established relationship, top!abby, bottom!reader, some soft dom!abby, morning sex, you and abby are very much in love, fingering(r!receiving), scissoring, lots of praise, slight body worship, use of pet names(princess, baby, love, etc.), kinda possessive abs, abby teases you a lot, slight exhibitionism (can you call it that? she wants you to be loud enough for other ppl to hear), nipple play for like one second, not choking per say but abby just has her hand on your neck at one point, cuddling/spooning, i think that's about it? this is pretty tame and kinda cute despite being smut lol

a/n: now wait a minute bc..... you got me thinking.... i got so carried away with this😭😭😭 enjoy!!! also for this fic let's all collecitvely imagine abby's morning voice bc i bet it's so sexy😵‍💫

Abby has always been a morning person by nature. Maybe it’s because of all the times she’d get up early with her father, or because of her training as a soldier for the WLF—either ways, she’s an early riser through and through. That’s why it’s no surprise when she wakes up before you, both for convenience and for her own selfish reasons. Those reasons being, namely, that she loves having the extra time to admire you before you wake up. To Abby, there’s nothing like the beauty and the sanctity of waking up next to you every morning. There’s something sacred about it, a preciousness that belongs only to you and her. You’re here in her arms, safe, loved and cared for by her, and she’d have it no other way.

Your head is resting comfortably on your pillow, having rolled over onto your back at some point in the night. The sheets crinkle underneath Abby’s body as she turns to lay on her side because she’s set on taking in the sight of you. She can’t help it; her mornings don’t feel complete until she has. She pushed your shared blanket off her body, but she accidentally uncovered your torso in the process. She adjusted it a little for you, knowing just how much you like to stay under the covers while you sleep. As you continue to snooze, she takes this time to memorize your face, to see the moles decorating your body, the way your eyebrows are so relaxed while you sleep. You look so at peace, and it reminds her why she works so hard in the first place: to keep you safe. You mean everything to her, the whole world, even, and she’d do anything to protect you. That’s why she takes her job so seriously, why she does all the tasks Isaac assigns her, why she clears so many Infected out on patrol, why she keeps an eye out for Scars like she does. It’s all so you can live in a somewhat safer world.

After admiring you for what feels like forever—because she wishes this could last forever, just you and her safe in bed, your own little world—her hand starts to rub your stomach, caressing your sides, her hand coming up to graze your cheek. Right now she can’t help but remember you’re not wearing anything underneath her t-shirt, and the thought excites her. She remembered watching you slip it on over your naked body after making love last night, and how a part of her was sad she could no longer see every curve, every mark, every inch of your skin. Just thinking about how pretty every portion of your body looks underneath that shirt has her head spinning already. She grabbed onto your waist, pulling you into her, but you ended up rolling over onto your side. Abby doesn’t mind, though, and assumes her role of big spoon so she can rub your sides and your stomach even more.

You may be laying on her left arm, but that doesn’t stop Abby’s ability to caress your body. Her free hand roams over your body gently, so contrary to the scary image many people have of her in their heads. So much destruction has been done by her hands, but when she touches you, it’s like she’s never torn anything apart in her life. It’s like for once she has the capacity to care for something, like she’s not who she used to be, like that version of herself never existed. She’s never cared for anyone as much as she has for you, maybe the last person being her father. When she holds you, when her hands touch your body, she feels like she has the hands of a farmer or a painter, because those are people who know how to nurture, how to grow, how to care. That’s something she’s always desperately wanted to do, but she didn’t know how, not until she met you. All it took was one look into your eyes for her to learn, because suddenly she knew just what it meant to want to protect someone and look after them.

It’s after the caresses that she starts kissing your neck and your face, peppering them all over your skin. This is when you start to wake up, familiar with the routine Abby has set after many mornings together, one you never dislike fulfilling. When you start to stir, that’s when Abby finally speaks.

“Morning, princess,” she whispers. You hum in response, still half-asleep and barely batting away your grogginess. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Abs.” Your voice is still rough with sleep like Abby’s, and you find yourself rubbing the hand she has nestled over your stomach. So touchy, you think.

“Look so pretty this morning,” she whispers into your neck. You feel her breath fanning against your skin, and you shiver a little.

“And I didn’t look pretty yesterday morning?” you tease her.

“No, you definitely did,” she says. “You just get prettier each morning.” Her hand moved from your stomach to your sides, rubbing them before sliding down to your hips. She rubs lazy circles there with her thumb as her lips resume kissing your neck. Her kisses are so soft and gentle, and you sigh a little bit as you melt into her touch. Her kisses continue until you feel her move her arm underneath you to slide her hand underneath your t-shirt, skirting over the warmth of your skin until they meet your breasts. Your body feels like it’s on fire with her hands on your skin, and that heat goes straight to your center. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel her start to play with one of your nipples.

“Abs,” you whisper.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, delivering a particularly harsh pinch to your nipple. You let out a loud whimper at the feeling. “Do you need me like I need you?” she asks. Her voice is lower and more gravelly than usual after waking up, and the sound of it has you feeling weak. You nod your head quickly as her hand comes down to grope your ass. “Words, princess.”

“Yes,” you hiss. “Need you bad.” Abby lifts up your leg and places her hand over your cunt. Her fingers just move through your folds, not really touching you how you need, but moving them gingerly to tease you and feel how wet you are. It’s like she’s just trying to feel that you’re there.

“All this for me?” she asks. You say nothing, caught up in how desperate you feel for her touch. You feel hot and bothered and you just hurt. You want her to touch you more and end the anticipation already, but Abby has other ideas. She stops moving her hands through your wetness and instead lets it rest there, cupping you. She removes her other hand from your breasts and rests it on the base of your neck. She doesn’t squeeze, and instead just holds it there firmly. “I thought we went over this, love. Answer me when I talk to you.”

“It’s all for you, Abs,” you whimper. She moves again, satisfied with your answer. “Want you inside.”

“Really, baby? So early in the morning?”

“I just need you,” you answer.

“So desperate for me,” she mutters. You were going to respond, to tell her how mean she was, but you found your words being swallowed when you finally felt one of her fingers insert themselves. You moaned as you felt her fill you up, moving slowly and languidly. She knew how to make the moment last forever, how to make you beg for more. You moaned again as you felt her finger curl inside you, hitting the spot just where you needed her. She chuckled lowly in your ear after hearing your sounds. She loved making you feel good, knowing you were hers to pleasure like this.

“You’re all mine,” she said assertively. “All mine to touch like this. You understand?” She knew you did. You were as devoted to her as she was with you, but she loved to hear it from your lips.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m all yours. Feels so good.”

“I know it does,” she replied, inserting another finger. A small yelp left your lips at the sudden intrusion, your brain immediately going hazy and filled with pleasure. You found yourself shamelessly moaning with each move of her fingers, one of your hands reaching up to hold onto the one she had on your neck. She moved it from its spot on your skin and laced her fingers through yours as she continued hammering into you with her fingers.

“Keep making those pretty sounds, princess,” she commanded. “I want everyone in the base to hear you. I want them to know it’s me making you feel this good.”

“Oh, fuck, Abs,” you groaned. You wanted to tell her how good she was making you feel, but all that was coming out of your lips were incoherent mumbles. Abby couldn’t help the smirk that grew on her face hearing you fail to speak.

“Yeah? Making you feel that good?” she teased. You poor thing. Just fucked so dumb you can’t even speak, and done all by her. It was an ego boost, but it also made her feel good. Hearing your moans and being able to tell you were feeling good made her wetter by the second. Her own cunt was aching, and it was all for you.

“Abby,” you whined. You could feel your stomach tightening as she continued to hit that spot deep within you that made you go crazy. She knew what she was doing—she always did. She knew your body so well, knew just what it took to make you come apart when she was fucking you. “I’m close.”

“Look at you. Cumming on my fingers already?” You only whimpered in response. “Yeah, keep going, love. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” She quickened her pace, the sound of her fingers pumping into your wetness echoing through the room. You couldn’t help as the loud moan left your lips once you climaxed, the feeling overtaking you and every single one of your senses. It was like disappearing for a moment, swallowed by the white hot pleasure all over your body. Abby removed her fingers from you, grabbing onto your body and turning you to face her. Her lips were on yours faster than you expected, but you gladly returned her kiss. Her hands grabbed onto your shirt and pulled you even closer into her body. She was so desperate and hungry for you, and you were just what she needed to cure the ache between her legs.

“Need to feel you,” she whimpered against your lips. “Want to feel you against me.”

“Fuck,” you whined. “I want to make you feel good, Abs.”

Abby removed her lips from yours and sat up in bed, and you followed her actions. She pulled her boxers and her tank top off, then leaned over and pulled your shirt over your head. That only ignited the aching she felt further as she leaned in close to your body and began kissing you, her hands roaming over your skin, touching you anywhere she could. She loved to admire your naked body like the work of art it was, and she could never get enough of it. As she scooted closer to you, she spread your legs apart as she settled her own between them. When she was finally close enough, she could feel your warm skin on hers, your wetness coating her own. She let out a small groan at the contact as she grabbed onto your leg to her right and started grinding against you.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. She could feel your clit rubbing against hers, and it was driving her crazy. You were still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and it just made your pleasure intensify. She was grinding against you slowly, taking her time with you, staring so deep into your eyes as she did so. The intensity of her gaze turned you on even more, which you didn’t even think was possible.

“Abs,” you whimpered. Her eyes didn’t leave your face as she watched your expressions twist with every emotion you felt. Lust, love, pleasure—she loved to see it all on your face.

“Love having you like this, baby,” she grunted. “All desperate for me. You like it when I make love to you like this, huh?” Her hips kept that same slow, steady rhythm against yours, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of her against you, the sounds of your wetness echoing in the room.

“Yeah,” you answered her. You knew she’d punish you if you didn’t, and you couldn’t stand to be punished at a time like this. Not when you were feeling so good. You made eye contact with her again, her gaze boring into you and every part of you as she continued her movements. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared at you, something wild and full of lust taking over her gaze. Feeling her watch you made it all feel even better. You felt like your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, the only thought in your head being Abby. Her name kept being repeated in your head, just Abby, Abby, Abby, and you found yourself muttering it outloud, too. Abby kept grinding her cunt against yours, and with each movement of her hips you were both losing yourselves deeper into one another. You met every thrust of her hips with your own, and it caused moans to slip out of each of your lips. The feeling was just so heavenly in a way you couldn’t put into words.

“Feel so good against me, baby, fuck,” she moaned. She was always the dominant one, always the one in charge, but whenever she got overstimulated like this, she started to lose her cool. Abby was doing her best to maintain the image she usually did, to stay in control, but she was faltering. You could both tell from the whimpers uncontrollably leaving her lips. “So–so good,” she groaned. “I–fuck,” she cursed. If there was a higher power, you had to have been sent to her by it. There was no worldly explanation for why she was blessed with someone as good as you, how she came to love and be loved by a real life angel.

“I want you to cum on me, Abs,” you whimpered. “Use me to cum. Just fuck me,” you begged. Abby let out a grunt at your words and immediately picked up the pace of her hips against yours. That sent you both over the edge as you both got much louder from the sudden sensations. You did your best to reach her pace, but Abby’s hips were moving much faster than yours, so much so she was starting to get messy. She was doing exactly as you asked, not sparing a moment to pause as she chased her orgasm. She was so close, and she knew that she would unravel soon as she was already coming undone. The whimpers leaving her lips were so pathetic, but she just felt so good she couldn’t help it.

“You’re so good to me,” she moaned. “Letting me fuck you like this. Shit.” She could feel her climax approaching, the heat in her stomach overtaking both her mind and body. “You’re—Fuck. Gonna cum.” She grinded her hips against yours a few more times and that’s when she felt her orgasm overtake her. She let out a choked moan at the sudden pleasure, but she kept grinding against you regardless. She wanted you to cum again, to cum with you. You found your eyes filling up with tears at the pleasure you felt, still so sensitive from earlier. The sensitivity made it hurt a little, but it just felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck, Abby,” you moaned, feeling it all finally wash over you. Abby kept grinding against you until your orgasm finally ran its course, then stopped. Both of you were catching your breath with heaving chests, staring at each other in post-orgasm awe. You could feel your body was sticky with sweat—and probably other fluids—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You collapsed onto the pillows behind you, Abby following suit as she pulled your bare body close to hers. Abby felt so tired and like she could pass out within seconds, but her tendencies as a clean freak were stronger than her sleepiness.

“You wanna take a shower?” she asked. You shook your head, snuggling further into Abby’s chest.

“No. Just wanna lay here with you for a while.”

“But you will shower with me later, right?” she asked again.

You hummed in response. “Yeah. But right now I just wanna cuddle with you.”

“Fair enough, love,” she said. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, the one place she liked to keep you the best.

[beenbaanbuun]

brainless w/ song mingi

everything seems like a lot. sure, it was your idea to come to the mall in the first place, hoping the dizzying array of stimulants would keep your mind away from the tangled up we’d of thoughts within it, but now you just regret it. now you’re just looking for anything else to cling onto; you guess you’re looking for stability more than anything. it’s a good thing you brought your boyfriend with you.

your fingers loosen from the flimsy fabric of the dress you’d taken a shine to, dropping it miserably before turning around to face mingi. his zoned out eyes focus on the the moment your stoic face comes into his line of vision, and without so much of a moments hesitation, he turns his phone off and slips it into his pocket. he might be a little dopey with more than a few things, but making you feel seen isn’t one of them.

“what’s up, princess?” he smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles softly at you. it relaxes you every so slightly, but not enough to completely block out the incessant chatter from every angle, or the fluorescents that burn your retinas painfully. you sigh and take a pathetic step towards him. he wastes no time in opening his arms to invite you into his hold, and for some reason it makes your throat tighten.

“i feel bad,” you admit as you close the gap and dive into his warmth. you can feel his body heat through his thin tshirt, and even in the sweltering heat that has your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably, you can’t help but lean into the familiarity it gives you. as your nose nuzzles into the black fabric, a hand comes up to cup the back of your skull. you swallow thickly to quell the tears that threaten to spill.

now isn’t the time for that.

there’s a rumble in his chest as he hums contemplatively. it’s deep and gravelly, yet somehow still filled with a softness that you’ve come to associate with only your boyfriend. it’s like the soft curl of cigarette smoke, except without the pungent odour. the velvety texture of flower petals, without the threat of the thorny stems. the gentle lap of the ocean against the shore, without the threat of the undercurrent to drag you to your doom. in life, most beautiful things only exist to distract from danger, but not your mingi.

“what kind of bad?” he murmurs, minty cold breath brushing against your face in a way that has you relaxing further into his touch. you always have loved the smell of that menthol gum he chews; he claims it stops ‘the cravings’, although for what, you’re not sure. the poor man had coughed for minutes the last time he’d taken a drunken drag from his friends cigarette. “is it ‘hide from the world’ kind of bad?” yes, you think to yourself, that one. the type of bad that leads you to curling up under your bedsheets for hours on end, eating snacks depressedly from mingi’s fingers. you almost nod, but you sense he has more to say. you hang back, staring up at him as he wets his lips with a single swipe of his pink tongue. “or is it ‘let your mingi take care of you’ kind of bad?”

oh.

you seem to melt further into his touch at the mere mention of ‘letting your mingi take care of you’. it’s code for something much deeper; a ritual that only you and mingi know of. it’s sacred to your relationship, it has been from the moment the two of you stumbled across the nature of said ritual.

yes, you change your mind, you want that one.

and so you nod helplessly against his chest, eyes widening and going ever so slightly glassy at the mere thought of letting your mingi take care of you. you almost miss the way the corner of his mouth tilts up into a small smile, too focussed on watching the way his eyes glimmer with excitement. it’s as if he enjoys it as much as you do, in fact you’re almost sure he enjoys it more. something about this whole thing just seems to stroke that huge ego that seems to come hand in hand with having a cock. if you weren’t so desperate for him to turn that ego on you now, perhaps you’d roll your eyes and scoff at him.

“no good, princess,” he purrs, pulling the hand from the back of your head around to rest on your cheek. his thumb comes to rest on your lips, tugging at your lips to smear your lipgloss outside the lines you yourself had drawn on with your trusty lipliner. a quick glance around was enough to tell mingi that the coast was clear, or at least for long enough for him to dip the tip of his thumb into the warm confines of your achingly empty maw. it tugs at your bottom lip softly before pulling itself free with a gentle pop. he taps it once, twice against your mouth before pulling his hand away entirely. “i need your words, don’t i?”

the keen that his question pulls from your throat has him chuckling lowly. you watch as his cheek distends, giving way to the tongue that cockily probes the inside of it. he knows the effect it has on you, having watched you melt from just his egotistical gestures plenty of times in the past. as your eyes glaze over a little, it seems to have worked yet again.

“mingi,” you whine, voicing echoing through your mind as though it belongs to someone else entirely. you seem to have slipped quicker than usual into that familiar headspace that soothed you so much, which would’ve had you curious had your thoughts been anywhere other than the man in front of you. it’s not all gone just yet, but you can feel the remnants of your braincells slipping further and further out of your grasp by the second. you take in a shudders breath, “please mingi… take care of me?”

and how could he say no to that? he can practically see each thought slip from you one by one as your mind shrinks to nothing. he can see your tunnel vision forming around him, and your tongue get too heavy to speak any word other than his name. it’s such a beautiful sight, tugging at his heartstring each and every time he watches it happen. his pretty darling, brainless and his.

“of course, baby,” he ghosts a hand over your hair, giggling as you lean into his touch. even in public, you’re so shamelessly needy for him. it’s adorable, really, the way you so easily fold for him. he gives in, probably easier than he normally would, a single finger running along your cheekbone to gather hair to place behind your ear.

you purr up at him, and he matches it with a low, throaty hum of his own. “collar,” you manage to say through your haze, watery eyes looking up at him expectantly.

“when we get home,” he replies. it breaks his heart to see the pout of your lips, but creative problems require creative solutions. if you couldn’t have your collar just yet, he’s give you something else to ground you.

with one hand still playing with your hair, he lifts the other to his mouth, parting his lips just enough for his teeth to show. the hook over the heavy ring on his index finger, tugging on the jewelled metal until it rolls off the digit and onto his tongue. he appreciates the weight of it for just a second before once more scanning the shop floor for any potential voyeurs. no one, he gleefully notes before leaning down to your height and pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

mere moments pass before you feel the cold touch of metal against your lips, and you open your mouth just enough for his tongue to force the through the gap provided by you. it drops weightily onto your awaiting muscle, pinning it heavily to the bottom of your mouth. it feels like lead against it, and you can’t lie and say that you’re not happy with the way it feels.

mingi pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open to meet your own, hazy and completely thoughtless, just like you’d wanted. his gaze flickers quickly to your throat, watching the way moves as you swallow, before moving immediately back to your face. he admires the way your jaw moves as you fiddle with the ring in your mouth, watching in real time as the tense muscles in your face relax completely. he’s glad to see you happy, he muses to himself as he takes a step away from you and grabs your hand.

he can’t wait until he’s home and he can help you so much more…

[tired-but-willing]

Tattoos

Pairing: Tonowari & Ronal / Reader

Word Count: 1,297

Warnings: Minor Way of Water spoilers, minor pain.

Summary: Every Metkayina receives a tattoo after an important life event, and tattoos hold a deep meaning. After defeating a beast to protect your people, the time has come for you to receive another.

Tattooing was a sacred practice to your people. A tattoo on one's chest represented safety and security. Tattoos on one's arms were the marks of a warrior; signifying strength. You were due for the latter. You sat in your home, head bent forward as cool hands swept across your back. Ronal was nothing if not thorough. You shuddered while her fingertips took their time tracing their way across your skin, the pads of them making a journey over your left shoulder blade and onto your arm itself.

"It should be here." Her hand grasped the top of your bicep. It wasn't far from your first tattoo; a circlet of dark waves around your muscle that you had received as a young hunter. "The mark of a warrior." Her hand lingered longer than it needed to, filling your heart with warmth. Though you weren't fragile in the slightest, she still handled you gently. It was endearing.

"I am not a warrior," you stated bluntly. "I hunt."

She squeezed your shoulder once firmly and let go, rising off of her knees to cross the floor of your shared home. You didn't turn; listening to her movements rather than watching them. You heard her shuffle around and knew she was gathering the necessary items to complete your ritual.

"You are a warrior." Her footsteps were becoming closer once again. The netting beneath the two of you dipped as she joined you once more. She knelt at your side and took your arm in her hands again. You turned your head to meet her gaze.

Passionate.

Ronal was passionate. It was one of the things you loved about her; and you would never deny that fact. Your love for her was something to be proud of.

"If that is what you say," you relented. Truthfully, trying to refute anything she said was a waste of time. She had a comeback ready for everything, iron clad points always in tow. Even now she smiled wryly. She leaned forward, rewarding your agreement with a gentle touch of her forehead on yours.

"It is." You felt her breath against your face when she spoke. You yearned for her to move closer. To break the gap between you. But at the same time, you reveled in the tenderness behavior a simple forehead touch. She pulled back, her head turned towards the entrance of your home. Your eyes followed hers. In the entryway was a form you recognized well. The completion of your heart. Tonowari's head was tilted every so slightly to the side with question.

"Is it ready?" He asked.

"Nearly." Ronal's fingers moved up and down on your arm, digging ever so slightly into one spot. It was her duty to find the perfect spot to mark your skin with ink. The place that Eywa would approve of; and the place that you would approve of. "Have you come to watch?"

"I have come to help." Amusement punctuated his words. He stride forward and knelt down in front of you, joining both you and Ronal where you sat. He reached out and took your other hand, cradling it in his palm. "Are you feeling well?"

You scoffed, playful. "Ma Tonowari, I have been tattooed before," you said. "I am not a baby."

"She is feeling fine." You yelped when Ronal delivered a swift pinch to your arm, gathering a small bit of skin between her thumb and forefinger. "No disrespect, ____. Be kind."

She reprimanded you like you were a child. You huffed. Your banter was light-hearted, as always. You would never say anything that would truly upset your mates, just as Ronal would never do anything that truly harmed you. Tonowari watched the both of you exchange words and a fondness overtook his expression. You looked up just in time to spot it. The way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. The warmth they held. You twisted your lips into an exaggerated pout.

"I am sorry," you said to him. "Forgive me."

"Enough of you," he said, setting his second hand atop yours, keeping it held gently between his. "It is time to begin. If you feel pain-"

"Do not be soft," Ronal interjected. "There will be pain." There was a pause in her words where her own softness leaked through. "It should not be extreme."

"It will not be." You flashed her a reassuring smile, displaying your fangs with the expression. "I am a warrior. Remember?"

"I should have known you would use that." She grabbed your arm a final time, her fingers forming a circlet on the limb. You dutifully fell silent and turned away. While you weren't a coward, you still didn't enjoy the feeling of watching the tattooing practice. Especially when the practice was going on you. Soon after you turned, pinpricks of pain scattered across your flesh. You grimaced.

"Breathe." Tonowari's hands clasped yours firmly while Ronal worked. You dutifully took a deep breath, air rattling through your lungs. The pain wasn't awful. You were slowly getting used to it. Ronal was quick and efficient. You could hear her murmuring to your left, small prayers to Eywa and recollections of your accomplishments. Despite the pain that came alongside the ritual, you couldn't help but revel in the way she held your arm. A tight but gentle grip. A firm, yet somehow lenient hold. Your thoughts could be full of her forever and somehow it still wouldn't be long enough.

And then of course, there was Tonorwari. Strong was easily the word that first came to mind when your thoughts were of him; though he was far more than that. He was kind. He was respectful. He murmured as well, but his words were not for Eywa. They were for you.

"Brave," he was saying. "You are brave."

"It is a tattoo," you replied.

He shook his head and slid one of his hands up your arm. Ronal held your left. He held your right.

"You earned it through bravery," he said. "And you are brave receiving it."

The mere sincerity of his words made your heart beat faster. It was as though the organ was trying to beat hard enough to make itself jump and escape out your throat. Your mates gentle smile turned knowing. Knowing, and teasing.

"Breathe."

You gnashed your teeth together in a mock-snarl, letting him see your fangs. He bared his teeth back once, indulging your playful antics. Then his gaze slid to Ronal's work. You suddenly became aware of the fact that the pain had stopped. He had distracted you, you realized. He drew your attention from the tattooing process, and now it was done.

"What is it?" You asked. You could see a swirling symbol of darkened blue and black on your skin, but it wouldn't be recognizable as any shape until it fully took to you.

Ronal sat back on her heels, admiring what she had done. Admiring you. Again, your heart kicked furiously. You imagined if it could speak that it would likely warn you it was about to explode.

"Water," she responded. Her finger traced a faint shape around the mark, mercifully not touching the raw skin itself. "Surrounding the beast."

"Sentimental."

She huffed and lifted herself up partially, pressing her lips to your hairline. "You are welcome," she said.

You closed your eyes contentedly. This was where you belonged; with your people, in your home on the sea.

With your mates in the place you shared, which was sacred to only the three of you. That was enough to keep you happy for as long as you lived. The memory of your joy would live on long after your death, forever kept alive in Eywa for anyone who wished to listen.

"Thank you," you responded.

[peachesofteal]

John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology

The girl is here.

You’re tucked in a corner booth, rigid against old cedar slats, brown bottle and half peeled beer label crinkled between your fingers. The yellow track lighting casts a dubious shadow across your face, faint flicker of unease painted through your brow.

Your lips touch the rim. John’s stomach pitches.

You look up. He pretends you don’t. Perches on the stool, empty one of many, and waits for his usual. Rocks whiskey. Amber syrup, a cold burn.

One like he feels now, when he catches a local giving you a once, twice over.

You’re a grown woman. Grown women go to bars.

“Saw Aly made a friend the other day.” The bartender is lighthearted, but the comment doesn’t land, just floats aimlessly in the stale air, floundering.

“Yeah.” This is more than curiosity, this interest the town has expressed in you. More than good natured, or ill natured, interest. It’s sinister. It’s calculating. It makes him want to lock you away, hide you from the eyes of this place, the ones watching from the dark, the depths, the pale orange windows lining the street.

“The conservation effort pays for the ranger position, you know.” Mari clips at his left elbow. “Wouldn’t kill you to be nice to her.” It might.

She’s not wrong. He glances at your empty bottle and wandering eyes, and then with a sigh, orders one with a second pour for himself.

John doesn’t meander. He walks with purpose. It’s a learned technique from his past, straight and purposeful. A captain’s walk. Still proud, still able. Still carrying the echo of gunfire, shouts of dying men, well laid plans gone to waste.

He wants to walk right out the door, pull his hat down around his ears, tuck his chin and take himself home.

But then he’d be awake. Listening. Waiting for the sound of your door opening and closing, your feet heavy on the staircase.

Silent watching. Too afraid to go close. Unable to bring himself to gentle a wild thing, again. He’d dig his fingers into your flesh, rip apart these pieces singing to him, the ones carrying an unnatural tune, a siren song trying to drag him into frigid waters.

He’d dig and dig until he’s made a new home. Until he’s hollowed you out, turned you in on yourself. Until he’s lost where he ends and begins, lost the feeling of the most sacred pieces of his heart, the ones already slipping through his fingers.

He burns with a desire to consume you. Pick you apart. See what makes your wild heart tick. You’re like the sea, he already knows. A wild thing, in a wild place, with a wild passion. An interest so feral it’d kill you.

It might.

So when he appears at the end of the table, peace offering in hand, he doesn’t expect a smile or a gesture. He expects what he gets: a confused glance and then, a hot streak dancing in your eyes, willful as the tides. Amphitrite herself.

He hates you for it. Hates how much the burn has blossomed. Hates how you smile at him in the mornings, even though he’s only ever given you frosty, grim half smiles and frowns.

You’re willful. He’d bring you to heel, do to you what was done to him, bend body and soul, and then you’d never leave this place.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit?” He motions, and you chew the inside of your cheek before nodding.

“Please.”

“Can I ask you about the wolves?” No. Ask about anything, but the wolves.

“What about them?”

“Thought I heard them, the other night when I was out.” His spine snaps straight to attention, liquid fire sticking to his stomach like tar. It settles there, in this uncomfortable space he’s built out for you, for all the pieces he’s trying to jam up and away.

“Out where?” A sheepish look crosses your face.

“I went for a walk.”

“Thought I told you not to walk alone at night.” It’s a grand assumption, you being alone. Grand assumption that any one of these starved boys hasn’t picked you up already, hasn’t already tried to make you theirs, to pin you under their body in a bed and give you pieces of themselves.

“I wanted to look at the stars.” It’s a simple answer, but makes the blood hot under his coat. He wonders how much you like the word no, or if anyone has laid you across their knee and spanked you raw before. His hands itch just thinking about it.

He’d do it. He’d lick your tears afterwards too, brine fresh on his tongue. Sweeter than sugar. His crying girl, bent and broken beneath his palms.

There’s a buzzing in the back of his head, a whine. High pitched and unbearable, like the sound Aly’s cries. It’s PTSD, or hearing loss, or tinnitus, something lingering past retirement, sharp and lurking in wait.

“The pack comes close to town. Often.”

“How big?”

“Eleven. Used to be twelve but…” he peters off, hand rubbing down his face. Not too much. “If you’re ever out around the house, or town, and they get too close. You run. Don’t freeze. Run.” He must instill this in you. This chance at survival. Running will make you prey, certainly, but if you’re close enough to town, they’ll peel off.

They know better.

“And if I’m not around the house? Or town?”

“Don’t be.”

[inuyashaluver]

hello hello! not sure if you write for her... but can i request a childhood friends to lovers fic with leah galton?! love your writing!!!

pinky promise - leah galton

leah galton x reader

description: in which you and your childhood best friend fulfil a promise that you made years ago

warnings: it’s a long one, babies!

a/n: hiya, lovey! thanks so much for the request and the love! i hope you enjoyyy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your childhood best friend, leah grew up together joined at the hip. you went to school together, bonding through a mutual love of football from a young age. wherever you went, she went and vice versa.

you were extremely close, both of you each other’s favourite person in the world and no one could come in between that.

so much so, when you were younger, you both made a sacred promise that you both held close to your heart.

when you both reached 16, leah was the first one to explore romance, you were the person she came to for advice, her wingwoman, her best friend. You were more on the reserved side, particularly focused on football and school rather than anything romantic.

–

it was a commonly chilly friday in england when leah invited you over to her house to ‘study’.

“you, leah galton are inviting me over, to study on a friday night?” you quirk your brow, a hint of disbelief evident in your tone.

“yes, (y/n) (y/l/n), i am” she mocks, cocking her head to the side teasingly as you ate lunch together. you take another bite of your sandwich as you narrow your eyes at her, she stares at you challengingly, waiting for you to agree.

“nah, there's a catch for sure” you concluded with a cheeky smile, making the corners of her mouth upturn as well. while you both stare at each other with challenging glares, you watch as leah’s eyes trail from yours to another point in the room.

you look at her confused and follow her gaze to one of your classmates, the girl waves at leah shyly before sitting down with her friends for lunch.

“ah, there’s the catch” you laugh teasingly, watching the girl in front of you look down in embarrassment.

“we’re going on a date next week and i need you to help me” leah pleaded, reaching for your snack you were about to open before you promptly slapped her hand away.

“hm, what’s in it for me?” you smirk teasingly, she rolls her eyes but thinks for a moment. “i’ll buy you an ice cream?” leah tries, gaining a shake of your head when her hand manages to steal some of your snack.

“oh, come on, galton, you can do better than that!” you scoff, she shakes her head at you, “i’ll do that assignment that’s due on monday?” your eyes widen at that, “well, you're doing that regardless if i agree or not” you scold, she internally curses herself for telling you that, you were always the academic out of the two.

“i’ll do the assignment and whatever you want for two weeks” leah pleads, you ponder for a moment, mockingly rubbing your chin with your hand to take the piss out of her, the girl immediately rolls her eyes at you.

“make it three and you’ve got yourself a deal” you say smugly, putting your hand out for a handshake that she reluctantly takes, “deal” she sighs.

–

you went home with her, and as soon as you both entered her room, she promptly got into business, dragging you to sit on her bed while she sat in front of you.

“what about the movies?” leah tries, you shake your head, “too overdone” leah nods along with you. “should i invite her to a game and then go out after?” leah attempts again, gaining you crinkling your nose in dislike.

“babe, no offence but you’ll be all sweaty and that’s not attractive” you tease, leah gives you a playful slap on your knee. “not funny” she grits out, “why don’t you just do a little picnic or something?” you suggest with a shrug, “would you be happy with that?” leah questions, somewhat nervously but you dismiss it.

“well, yeah, if you’re there, you’re great company” you smile shyly, looking down at your lap. you miss the way leah looks at you in slight shock, mildly spaced out from your words.

“oh, okay, i'll call her later ” when leah smiles at you, you wondered what it would be like to go on a date with leah, quickly shutting down the thought, she was your friend, you can't like her like that.

–

one week later, leah goes on the date. it wasn't at all enjoyable like she had hoped. the girl didn't understand her humour, you always did. the girl didn't like football, you did.

and, as it turned out, the girl thought the date was a hangout between friends. the list went on, no matter how hard she tried to block out the thoughts, it always came back to you.

she didn't know why, she didn't like you like that. you were her best friend. just because she thought of you every night before she went to bed, bought you things she thought you'd enjoy, and maybe had one too many lingering thoughts about you being the one on this date meant nothing, right?

—

it was the morning after the date and you were slightly worried leah hadn't called you last night after it like she promised she would.

it was a monday, meaning you have school, you lay in bed, lightly sleeping before you needed to get ready. suddenly, the door opens after a quick knock, not even giving you time to respond.

you open your eyes and in walks leah, a glum expression evident on her face. without another second, she trudged over to your figure on the bed, flopping her body overtop and sinking into you.

“good morning” you laugh, the girl on top of you groans in response, her face buried into the covers over your stomach. “not good?” you ask softly, running a hand over her back in comforting circles.

you feel her shake her head, burying her face further into you, making you slightly nervous before you shut down the thoughts, she needed you as a friend.

she lifts her face up and looks at you, “really not good” she sighs, rolling off your body to lie next to you. you both stare up at the ceiling in a comfortable silence.

“i'm sorry it didn’t go well” you look over at her, she turns her head to look at you, “don't be” she shrugs, lifting her hand up to gently move a stray hair resting close to your eye. the gesture was so intimate, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach.

you both look at each other with soft expressions, the two of you unaware of the racing minds and lingering thoughts about each other that had you both questioning your friendship.

“i think i might leave the dating scene for a bit,” leah admits, turning onto her side so she could look at you better, “joining the single life with me, huh?” you tease, copying her action and rolling onto your side.

“mmhm” she hums, both of you giggling with each other.

“sorry to ruin our little moment in solidarity, but i need to get ready” you pinch her cheek teasingly and she immediately groans in protest. her eyes linger on you as she watches you move around the room, so fluid and satisfying for her to watch.

you change in the bathroom and come back into the room to see a waiting leah on your bed, you stick your tongue at her, she returns the action with a laugh. you begin to pack your bag while you both chat about the date.

leah making an effort and leaving out some specific thoughts she had during the date.

it was during lunch that you made the promise, you had separate classes which had you both a little sad. you watch as leah’s face visibly brightens when she sees you sitting in your usual spot.

you both chat and laugh as you eat, having genuine, heartfelt fun, even if it was just the two of you.

when a conversation sparks up about the date again, you both laugh as you tease her. she covers her ears while slightly cringing at herself while replaying the ‘date’ in her head before she looks at you with a cheeky expression.

“let’s make a deal,” leah challenges, you raise your eyes amusingly at her, encouraging her to continue.

“if we’re both single by the time we’re 25, let’s date and get married later” leah says simply, taking a sip from her water as she watches you for your reaction, she’s surprised at seeing you nod.

“sounds good” you shrug, “make it official?” you smile, holding out your pinky to her. she grins brightly, interlocking your pinky with hers.

—

years and years go by and the both of you are pining over each other painfully. it was so incredibly obvious to everyone around you that you were both head over heels for one another, it was frustrating.

you both got signed to the same clubs for football, both of you asked by almost every teammate in different teams if the two of you were dating, always having to turn it down, leah always loved to say, “not yet” every chance she got.

it was during both of your years at manchester united that acted as a catalyst for your relationship. you were both 24 at the time, both of you would tease each other about how 25 was swiftly approaching for the two of you. you both wanted it to come as soon as possible, you knew you loved each other but chose to painfully wait.

—

“still gonna keep your promise, love?” leah says cheekily as she kicks the ball to you, her birthday was coming up extremely soon.

you receive it and shake your head with a giggle, “of course, we swore on our pinky’s” you scoff, almost like it’s common knowledge, she knew all too well of course. you swiftly kicked the ball back to her.

“glad we’re on the same page” she said with a bright grin, stopping the ball before walking up to you and giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“leah!” you laugh brightly, attempting to push her off you but the girl wouldn’t budge. she pecks your cheek repeatedly while she giggles against your skin, her hand lingers on your waist to pull you closer and your stomach flutters.

“we need to get used to kissing, wifey” she mumbles against your ear, a few of the girls watch the interaction and shake their heads. they’ve had to deal with your casual flirting for years, but none of them have suffered as hard as you and leah.

you laugh and she moves off you, slinging an arm over your shoulder to walk you over to the rest of the team to wrap up training.

—

leah’s 25th birthday arrives, you decorate your shared flat with balloons, streamers, flowers and a little banner with ‘happy birthday’ written across it. you were so giddy, excited to spoil your best friend/future wife.

you both had training today, so you wanted to make some parts of the day nice and special for your special girl. you walk into her room, expecting her to be sleeping but are instead faced with a changing leah, the girl standing in shorts and her sports bra about to shrug on her shirt.

she smirks at you surprisingly and you turn around instantly “sorry!”, your cheeks flushed red. you’ve seen each other change countless times, but seeing her changing in her room felt too intimate, it made you nervous.

she lazily giggles, chucking on her shirt and standing behind you. “i’m 25 officially, babe, get used to it” you can hear her smirk in her words and you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth.

her arms experimentally wrap around your waist as she pulls you against her front, giving you a loving hug from behind before turning you around.

you smile sheepishly, your arms going around her neck to pull her into a tight embrace, “happy birthday, beautiful” you breathe out with a smile, kissing her cheek affectionately. she holds onto you tightly, never wanting to let go.

you part with shy smiles, “thanks, babe” she lifts her hand up to stroke your cheek gently before you grab her hand and pull her out to the decorated living room.

she gasps as soon as she sees it, stopping in place and halting both of your movements. “when did you set this up?” she exclaims in awe, looking at you with lovesick eyes that had you swooning.

“when you went to sleep” you say proudly, feeling leah’s grip on your hand tighten. she looks at a loss for words, her mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out. instead, she pulls you by the hand into another hug, her face making its way to the crook of your neck.

“i love you, thank you” you both feel too warm, you knew the feelings were mutual and it only made you both nervous about what you two could become.

“i love you too” you say sweetly, giggling when she nuzzles her face into your neck.

—

you both arrive at training with bright smiles and the girls immediately giggle at the two of you. starting with the birthday wishes immediately before settling into the teasing.

“25, galton, you dating yet?” ella teases, millie laughs immediately, spurring the girl on. “not yet, someone else needs to be 25 first” leah grins, nodding her head towards you before throwing you a wink, your cheeks are on fire. “well that's about..” millie ponders, interrupted by an excited leah, “28 days, 12 hours and 43 minutes” she said simply, sitting down next to you in her cubby to lace up her boots.

you swore your heart stopped then and there, your eyes were wide and your mouth was slightly agape as the room erupted into cheers and teasing.

she nudges your thigh with her own to prompt you to look at her. “you okay?” she mocks, she knew she was affecting you, her smug smile making it hard to breathe while her thigh rested against yours. you nod in response, tearing your gaze from the girl and lacing up your boots as well, her thigh never left yours.

—

it was your 25th birthday, leah has been excitedly reminding you almost every second for the past week. you were both excited, and obviously you both knew why. you could have dated years ago, sure, but something about the promise you made at 16 was just so special to the two of you. you mutually wanted to wait and it was sure worth it.

you woke up to leah hugging your body on top of the covers, an arm slung around your waist while she hugged you to her chest.

“happy birthday, baby” she whispers in your ear, kissing the tip of your ear while she snuggles into you. you stir and turn to her, pressing your face into her collarbone and hugging her tightly. she hums at the contact, resting her cheek against the top of your head.

“thank you” you mumble into her shirt, moving up slightly to kiss the base of her neck which made her squirm, you smile lazily into her skin. “i’m 25, you need to get used to this” you mock, looking up at her with tired eyes, she chuckles as she takes in your appearance. she moves the stray hairs adorning your face, her finger tracing over your nose gently before she boops it.

“i know i tease you about it but we don’t have to keep the promise if you don’t want to” she utters, her hand cradling your cheek as you look up at her, now completely awake.

“of course i want to” you say almost offendedly, leah smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen, kissing your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth. she pulls back to look at you, you looked at her with so much love she could’ve cried.

“come on, my girl has a birthday to celebrate” she winks, kissing your forehead quickly before getting up to run off to the living room.

like you did, it was completely decorated with flowers, balloons, streamers, the whole works. you trudge out into the living room to a very happy looking leah standing in the middle with a small cupcake in her hand with a little candle lit on it.

you smile at her, placing a hand over your heart as you made your way over to her.

“i won’t sing happy birthday because i know you hate it so make a wish, beautiful” your heart soared that she remembered your dislike for the song. you close your eyes and clasp your hands together, smiling contemptly before blowing out the candle.

she lets out a little cheer, smiling as she hands you the cupcake. you look at her slightly confused, “you didn’t get one for yourself?” you look around for another cupcake but the girl only got you one, you pout a little at that and she waves you off.

“i don’t want one, baby, eat it” she ushers you, shoving the cupcake in your face and causing a little frosting to smear on the tip of your nose.

she laughs at your appearance. “do you want some?” you ask her, she swipes her thumb over your nose and licks her finger with a wink. “i’m good” she giggles, you grab the cupcake and squish it on her lips and she squeals in surprise, frosting all over her lips and nose.

“sorry, let me get that for you” you mock, wiping your own thumb over her nose, stepping close to her, she tenses at your proximity, your lips a few centimetres apart.

you look into her eyes for a second and she grins, taking it as confirmation, you kiss her. its frantic, loving and better than the two of you could ever imagine. the cupcake frosting makes you smile against her. she parts your lips almost immediately, asserting her dominance and taking charge immediately.

your tongues move together and you can both taste the frosting. you whine into her mouth when she presses you against her, her hands exploring your waist. she pulls away breathlessly, a little frosting lingering on your lips, you chase her mouth and kiss her lips gently before pulling away and giving them a little wipe with your thumb.

“pretty good cupcake” she breathes out, you both laugh brightly and she pulls you into another sweet kiss. her thumb grazes your jaw and she hums into your mouth, pulling away with a final kiss.

—

in present times, you’re both 29, the final part of the promise finally coming into play. you’re both happily about to get married, everyone was extremely excited to see their favourite couple finally get married.

when you both exchange your vows, you smile at each other with all the love you had. when you’re both told to kiss the bride, you hold out your pinky to leah and she takes it immediately while interlocking them, kissing you with a big smile as everyone erupted into cheers.

you both didn’t break your promise, and you’re happy you had it in the first place.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s youuuu!! xx

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

leahgalton21: tip for the young ones in love with their best friend, make a promise you’ll get married at 25, confirmed, it works

view all comments

yourname: actually does work

↳ leahgalton21: my best idea

yourname: it actually needs to be a pinky promise, don’t spread false information, galton

↳ leahgalton21: oh, sorry, baby

yourname: you were in love with me?!

↳ leahgalton21: we established this, baby

↳ yourname: i know, i wanted to hear you say it

↳ leahgalton21: little shit

[andy-clutterbuck]

[helaelaemond]

To Shine - Aemond x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

Pairing:  Aemond x f!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: You and Aemond share a loving and lazy moment together.

Content warning(s): none

KINK CATEGORIES: Dry humping, oral (male receiving)

Rating: E

Masterlist

Aemond leaned against the window ledge of your room and smiled as he read from the little volume of Valyrian history in his hands. His eye had roamed the page a dozen times before but speaking the words aloud brought them to a whole new life in the little room. The cool morning air nipped at his bare skin and bumps rose along the skin of his thighs and arms and stomach. He was aware of the gaze burning into him as he stood there but he did not look up, not even when you crossed from the bed to stand before him. 

“Don’t stop,” you whispered when Aemond paused his reading. Your lover smiled and continued. 

Standing at his side so as not to disturb the book in strong hands, you ran warm hands over Aemond’s waist. His stomach was taut from a lifetime of training, and you ghosted your fingers over it as they began their journey up to his chest, his shoulders, down his arms. Lips found their place at Aemond’s throat and made his voice tremble. You smiled and licked a slow and deliberate line towards his ear; soft, delicate, a tender spot for the prince. You blew very softly against the skin and Aemond stuttered, the suddenly hard grip on the book turning his knuckles white. 

“Keep going,” came a hot whisper against his ear. Aemond's eyes closed briefly. Gods, you had roused a burning for you. This was some sweet chase. Not a true chase though, not when you were already caught. He picked up where he left off and read aloud again. He was rewarded with a hand between his legs. 

Aemond was half hard from sleep and you took him into your warm hands firmly, fingers pulling at his balls and stroking his thick length until you felt him harden further. Meanwhile, cruel lips had found their way to the broad chest and were sealed around one pinched nipple, flicking and gently teething at it. Thusfar, Aemond was keeping more of his composure than you would have if your positions had been reversed. The slightest touch from Aemond, and you would beg to be fucked.  

You let him go briefly to pull your own shift off and cross to the dresser, where you tied your hair back in a ribbon, pulling your face free of soft strands. 

“You are so beautiful,” Aemond murmured from across the room. 

Stretching, you smiled. Your breasts lifted up with your arms over your head, and your body was utterly on view for him. The sight of it made Aemond’s mouth water. 

“Keep on reading,” you commanded him. The prince smiled, his eye crinkling at the corners, as he obliged. His voice was rich and low, still husky from the night. It wrapped you up like silk bonds, holding you fast, taking away your control, leaving you weak and desperate beneath his power. The voice pulled you back over to him and pushed you to your knees, wound its threads into your hair and parted your lips, pulling your tongue against your tall lover's cock. 

You licked up the flushed underside of Aemond, tongue flat and wet against his skin, and you looked up through your eyelashes for your lover’s reaction. When you sealed your lips around his head and sucked gently, you were rewarded with a low sigh. Loosening your throat, you sank Aemond past his lips as far as you could and bobbed your head slowly, building up your rhythm. 

On your knees, you had never felt so close to the gods. Aemond was holy. His sighs sacred, his cock the communion that you would not be denied. Bright lights dotted your vision and when Aemond moaned your name quietly, it was a chorus to your ears. Firm hands gripped Aemond's hips, and you felt him cover them with his own. He had stopped reading. 

“Kiss me,” Aemond murmured. You opened your eyes. When did you close them? 

You let his heavy prick slide slowly from your mouth and wiped the wetness from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. You were more than half a foot shorter than Aemond, even when you were naked and free of crowns and shoes and padded jackets. Bare as the gods, it felt as if Aemond towered over you. 

The air between you was thick and you could still taste him on your tongue. You held the other’s gaze until neither one of you could breathe for the thickness of the air now. You still held his hips. Aemond’s hand had found your core and he stroked you. 

“Kiss me,” Aemond repeated. He never spoke as an order, not to you, but you knew it was never less than a command. You obliged. It was bruising, ferocious, almost violent. Sudden teeth and tongues struggled, and your feet stumbled in their haste to reach the bed. It didn’t matter who pressed who down first, not when you became nothing more than a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. 

You kissed him fiercely on the mouth and rolled him onto his back to straddle him and take his cock into your hand to stroke hard, but the sudden hand pulling your hair made you groan. Half of it was wrapped around your lover's wrist as he yanked on it and you complied willingly, desperately, letting yourself be pinned down onto the bed instead. Your legs fell open.

“Oh fuck!” you whimpered. “Harder!”

Aemond's lips pulled back over his teeth in a grin and he pulled on your hair again. He delighted in how it made your back arch off the bed and up towards him, how your lips met in more messy kisses that left you breathless and dizzy. 

“I would have you here again if I had not had you senseless last night,” Aemond whispered in your ear, biting the soft shell. You whimpered and clutched at his back. There was a familiar ache inside your body that was a vivid reminder of how roughly Aemond had had you, and you adored it. You adored even more how reluctant Aemond would be now to have you until you hurt no longer. 

“Show me other ways to have me,” you groaned, lips pulled up in a smile. 

That made Aemond chuckle and the vibrations shook both of your bodies. You pushed your hips up to grind against him, and he grinned widely. “I don’t need to show you anything.”

With his hands braced either side of your head, Aemond began moving hard against you, his cock sliding between your folds, and you wrapped your legs around your lover’s back to bring you as close as you could. 

“Do it anyway.” 

Aemond was close anyway. He buried his face into your neck and slammed his hips over yours again and again, the friction between you building to a head quickly. His hot cock slid so sweetly over your clit, over and over again. The tension was already in your belly. It was so good, and you were so close, so soon, so-

“Kiss me!” you gasped between soft moans. Aemond knelt up between your legs and began thrusting harder and faster. The friction was perfect, his every movement stimulating you just as you needed. You whined softly and pulled him down by his long hair. “Kiss me!”

Your final kiss was blinding. You gasped against his open lips, sucking in his hot breath, and came with a jerk of your body. You followed and pressed your foreheads together, his entire form juddering and convulsing. His seed dotted your stomachs, Aemond's hard and tense, yours soft. 

Another kiss. Tender this time, loving, devoid momentarily of passion, filled only with devotion. Aemond went limp above you and had the strength left, for the moment, only to touch your noses, your lips, and run a hand through your hair against the pillow. 

“Your hair came undone,” Aemond remarked in a voice softer than a whisper. 

“That’s alright,” you breathed. “It wasn’t meant to stay like that for long.”

“I like it down. It’s pretty.”

“Mmm. You think me pretty?"

Aemond kissed your forehead and tucked his head between your collarbone and jaw. "I think you the sun itself."

[evermourning]

'𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. ⋆｡˚❆

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

WC: 2.1k

Summary: He always knew you would be the one for him. From the moment he met you. And now, he plans to love you eternally. In every lifetime.

A/N: It's Margaret day (Dec. 18) so here is a lovely oneshot in honor of it <3 This song is so beautiful to me and I hope to portray it into words by the very best of my abilities.. also Fem!Reader is mentioned once or twice but anyone can read regardless of gender!

Ever since you were tiny, with small hands that could barely fit around your father's, you've dreamed of this occasion. You've dreamed of the flowing white silk adorning your frame, the vibrant flowers clasped in your gloved hands, the melodious aria playing in your ears as you walked down the aisle something akin to a movie.

In your dreams, the figure waiting at the altar ready to intertwine his soul with yours has always been a mystery, shrouded in a milky fog you rendered impossible to push away. So you'd wait. Wait until the time was right and the sun would shine, clearing the fog and bathing your husband-to-be in golden light.

You know now that man is Christopher Bahng.

From the moment he smiled at you for first time, everything everywhere in the universe came to a screeching halt as you felt yourself falling for him. For the scrunch of his nose and the crinkle of his dark, soulful eyes. For the way the sight of his dimples made your stomach flutter with delight. You knew from the start that at the end of the day he would be yours. He would be the man in your dreams, hidden by the fog.

Now those wishes have come true, and more than you could ever imagine. Life with Chan is simple and sweet. You've always craved the intimate domesticity you saw emanating from movie couples, the cuddling and the kissing and the little acts of service that proved they knew each other better than anyone else.

Life isn't exactly like the movies, though. You aren't stupid. But Chan makes it feel that way. He makes your heart pound with adoration when he comes up behind you while you're making dinner, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You swoon whenever you open your eyes to see him staring at you, a saccharine smile upon his perfect lips. You are blessed to even think about spending the rest of your life at his side. It was always a hope, a wish.

But now, as you stare at yourself in the oval mirror, your body adorned in hues of white and a lacy veil upon your head, your wish has been fleshed out and exposed. It is quite simply, a miracle. And now, a reality. It hits you like a truck. You are getting married. To the love of your life, your first and final flame. In less than an hour, you will have the sacred right to call Chan your husband, to raise children and grow old with him. A single tear slips down your face. It is the first of many that will flow like a river today.

From the tent where you've spent the last three hours getting ready, you can hear quiet conversation and a soft symphony playing as people get to their seats. Chan must already be up there. Your heart rate quickens. Will he like how you look? Will he think you're beautiful? It's a foolish thought, as you know to the very depths of yourself that Chan loves every single atom in your body. He loves you when you are at your happiest, your smile bright enough to power a city, and he loves you at your lowest point, falling apart in his arms when you think you cannot do a single thing right. To him, you are the very oxygen that keeps his lungs working and his blood pumping.

Your bridesmaids come up to you, whispering words of encouragement with wide grins before they are whisked away. One after another, you hear the 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the crowd. You fight urges to peek outside. You and Chan had both wanted a more private wedding, opting to only invite family and close friends. And it was 100% worth it, you wholeheartedly believe. Although the promise of loved ones cannot quell your shaking hands and beating heart. You fidget with your hands, waiting until it is almost your time.

You sigh with relief once Minho, your longtime best friend, slips into the tent, smiling sweetly at you as he takes your hands in his.

"You look amazing. God, you're all grown up now." his voice is filled with multitudes of love for you. From the moment these dreams began as a child, you've known Minho was going to be the one who gave you away. He's watched your heart get broken time after time, comforting you each and every time as gently as the first time it happened. And then, because of him, you met Chan. You will forever be indebted to him. "Are you ready to go? They're all waiting for you. You're going to stun them."

And you nod, a nervous smile upon your lips as Minho links his arm with you. The music crescendos as you step out, and all eyes fall on you. They gasp at the sight of you, people clutching their chests with excitement. You can't help it. You beam, your face radiant.

You don't want to look at Chan yet, still taking in the scenery. The venue is outside, not a single discrepancy in the beautiful sunset. The color theme is white, matching your attire, and paired with the vibrant green vegetation, it looks absolutely divine. Your bridesmaids are giggling and waving to you, unimaginably proud of how far you've come. You pass Chan's family, soon to be yours, and his mother places a hand over her heart in silent gratitude. A thank you, for being her son's one true love.

When you look to the right, you see the remaining six of Chan's boys, dressed to the nines and watching the scene with utmost excitement. You can't help but chuckle when Felix wipes a tear away, eliciting merciless teasing from Jisung and Hyunjin. But even from here, you can see they have watery eyes too. They have nothing but adoration for Chan, and they are your family just as much as they are his.

Then, your eyes fall on Chan. His jaw is to the floor staring at you, taking in every inch of you. When you step up the altar opposite him, he is quick to take your hands in his. His voice is shaky as praise falls again and again from his full lips.

"Oh my god, you're beautiful- you're so- I can't even find the words for it. You've enchanted me. I can't speak." Noticing him getting flustered, you snicker. The officiant unfortunately interrupts your moment.

"May we begin?"

The first part is a blur, the only part you vividly remember and will forever cement into your cerebral is Chan squeezing your hands tightly as he looks deep into your eyes and says the two words that will change your life: "I do."

He never once looks away from you. Not when the officiant cracks a joke or two that bring his infamous dimples out, not when he is carefully slipping a silver wedding band onto your ring finger. When he is done, he lifts your hand up and presses a chaste kiss to the ring. It sits right alongside the brilliant diamond he proposed with, and the crowd releases a collective "awww". When you put his ring on, you do the same. It is a sign of respect and equality. There will never be an imbalance between you.

And finally, it is time for the vows. You wrote these the day after Chan proposed. You knew exactly what you'd been waiting to say to him all this time.

"This feels unreal to me. I still can't believe I'm standing here, about to tie the knot with the only person who has ever made me feel this way. I've never been so giddy when I'm around someone. I've never been so lonely and mopey when you're away. I want to spend every waking moment thinking about you if we are too far away from each other to touch." He's about to cry, it's so obvious, so you rub soft circles upon the skin of his hand. "Love is an inexplicable thing. It's fickle and can be mean, and I always thought it was out to get me. But I was wrong, because I was blessed with you. Love is far too soft of a word for me to use, because the way I feel about you could never be explained. I could dig through every page of every book, meticulously searching for the right term to use, but it would be to no avail. So you must trust me when I say that I love you, although there is so much more complexity than just those three words. Trust me when I'm falling apart and trust me when I'm doting on you like there's no tomorrow because just know that you are making all of my childhood wishes come true by being you. I promise to love you even when your hands are gnarled and you complain a bit too much about your back hurting. I'll love you when you finally become the old man Seungmin is always telling you about. And finally, I'll love you because you make me human."

The audience takes a moment for your words to register, before it is Chan's turn to say his vows. He takes a moment to compose himself before he begins, his eloquence taking everybody by surprise.

"Thank you, angel. That was beautiful. I still remember the first time I saw you. I was at Minho's birthday, and it was getting too stuffy, so I went up to the rooftop to catch my breath. You were up there, in all your beauty, and I swore I wanted to marry you right then and there. Your hair was blowing in the wind and you were wearing white, and I was like 'Shit. You're gonna be mine one day' because I knew that you were trouble and I didn't care because I would go to the ends of the earth for you to even look my way. It was then, I knew. I knew that you would make me the happiest man on Earth. I knew that I would love you for the rest of my life, even if you didn't feel the same. I remember our first date, when we curled up on the couch together and we watched 'Tangled', and the way your eyes lit up at Flynn and Rapunzel's relationship, and I knew instantly that I was going to give you something so much better. Your body is my home, and your arms, my shelter. Our youth may fade, but our love will never be anything finite. Our souls are intertwined now, tied together by the string of fate that led us here. I will search for you in every lifetime. Even if you are on the other side of the world, I will travel the seven seas for even a glimpse of your face.l love you, forever and evermore."

His words are like a drug, seeping into your system and mellowing you out until you can only think of him. You tune out the ceremony until you hear the words you've been longing for ever since you saw him.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!" And in the blink of an eye, Chan's arms are wrapped around you so tightly you fear your body will disintegrate if he loosens his hold on you. His lips are on yours, kissing you with so much passion and intensity that you two are one. When he finally pulls away, he wraps his arm around you and you look towards your friends and family with a smile. Now comes the final part of your ceremony. The sky has mellowed out now, a shady of navy blue speckled with shimmering stars that you would never see in the city.

Hand-in-hand, you kneel down beside a lantern with both of your names inscribed upon it with a heart. Together, you light it and lift it up so it dances in the breeze, traveling up, up, up, until your love has reached the heavens. You watch it go, your head on Chan's shoulder and his arm around you.

"Thank you for loving me." you whisper in his ear.

"Don't thank me like this is a chore, it is a choice. And from now until the end of time, my choice will always be you."

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[indouloureux]

love me forever, eddie my love

eddie munson x reader

summary: early mornings, whispers prosed into promises of evermore, eddie takes care of your tired soul, all while indulging in the love you give to him.

word count: 3, 555

warnings: SMALL DESCRIPTIONS OF SMUT (MINORS DNI, OR SKIP THE ITALIZED PART), nudity but no nsfw, fluff, slight angst at the end, eating cereal horribly, and a shit ton of fluff

a/n: rushed bc i wanted to write him again. i PROMISE i'm posting that mcu!peter next then steve harrington. hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

There’s a peaceful wave of melody when it comes to birds chirping in the early morning outside the trailer. The warm sun filters through the thin blinds, lending a liberating glow in the Tartarean aspect of his chamber. The duvet is soft against your bare skin, wrapped around your tangled limbs on the bed created for things holy and unholy – a bed for the angel and the devil.

The smell of his hair evades you. Fresh, cigarettes and apples, and you. A leg over his and a leg over yours as an unconscious sign of trust and comfort between two divine lovers. Both arms around your tired frame as an act of protection and salubrious possession; and slumbering lips on the crowd of your head as a saying of reverential devotion.

A sacred moment hours after a wicked affair—

Your face dug deep on the bed, ass up and back arched as his comforting hand caressed your waist and sweaty back, hips slamming against yours while his cock dug deep inside your puffy cunt. All wet and sticky from mixed arousals.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he’d growl, his hair sticking to his neck and face. “Taking my cock, huh? Greedy fucking girl,” a spank on your ass, reverberating against his torso. You moan loudly, clutching the sheets beneath you. His balls pound on your clit, the head of his dick bulging on your navel at each animalistic thrust.

You push yourself back to him in sync of his fucking, his other hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair and pull your head up. He leans down and kisses up your back to your neck, turning your face to kiss your swollen lips.

All while his hips continue to slam into yours. Until his cum paints your insides white and yours sheathing his cock. He moans and so do you, loud and harmonic in this burning bedroom—

—where his heart’s got a wild sovereignty on yours. A rather calumnious festival, heard not seen by neighbors. But neither of you care, because it’s not like anyone cares about the both of you anyway; it’s all just their selfish wants.

Beside you, he groans, moving to his back but keeping an arm beneath your neck as he rubs his eyes with his forearm. You blink a couple of times, eyesight adjusting to the sun-lit bedroom of your boyfriend. His biceps flex, chest risen to an exhale of being waken, face scrunched into a cute stretch.

Then he faces you again, wrapping his arm around your waist where his fingers reach the ends of your hair and twirls it around his ring-clad limbs.

He sees your half-lidded eyes and smiles. “Good morning,”

“Good morning, Eddie,” you smile. You admire way the skin around his face crinkles when he smiles, deep lines of serenity. With an aching hand do you reach up to push his bangs away from his forehead, now lacking the previous sweat from last night.  Eddie stares at you with a soft smile and wide doe eyes staring deep into your equivocal soul. Post-sex glow fits him well, makes him look innocent and cherubic beneath your sinning touch.

“Post-sex glow fits you well,” he murmurs, voice doused in lethargy. So maybe you too. The hand around your waist comes up to cup your face, left cheek carried by his rough palm.

Eddie can’t resist kissing you. And he does – begins his pathway to your forehead, creeping his soft lips on both your eyelids until they drag down to your creased cheeks to which formed from a silly smile; the bridge of your nose to the tip of your nose in a cute tempo, until he takes your top lips into his in a gradual kiss, like he’s savoring the moment.

You break away in a soft click, lips tasting of him. “Thank you,” your hand comes up to hold his wrist, feeling his calm pulse beneath your thumb. You kiss him again, just because.

“Jus’ basic knowledge, sweetheart,” Eddie wraps his leg around yours, closer, soft cock grazing your navel. “You look good post-anything. Pre-anything. You look beautiful anytime.”

“Flirt,” you turn your head away, his hand coming up to rest on top of your face. He feels the warmth on your face and giggles at your flustered reaction. His fingers dig a bit on the side of your face, like he’s puncturing them with his short nails. “Eddie,”

“Whaaat?” Eddie shakes your head, doesn’t stop until you look at him. You give him a look, the hand coming up behind his head, the other still beneath you“Not my fault you get to shy easily,”

You moan petulantly, creeping closer to dig your head on his chest. Eddie laughs, the un-metal like music vibrating on his chest and comforts your sleepy daze. He hugs you tightly. “‘M hungry, Eds.”

“In a minute, babe,” you feel his nose on your hairline, and you hear him smell your hair. “I’m still enjoying this. You smell so amazing. Like – like a baby, or something. It’s so amazing.”

You run a hand down his hair, fingers carding down until you untangle them. “You can smell me later when you give me food, Edward.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Laughing, you push your face away from his naked chest and prop yourself up on one arm. Your body still feels sore, and even propping yourself up took a lot of energy. Your arm shakes, struggles to hold your head up, but anything to look down on Eddie and see him look up at you with those forever curious eyes.

“Still sore?” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself doing the same. “Can see your arm shaking. You must be so tired.”

“Yeah. Well you try getting fucked from behind like an animal, babe,” you roll your eyes. Eddie chuckles again, hand coming down to massage your naked bicep. “We used a condom last night, right?”

Eddie glances behind him, comes back with frightened eyes. “Um,”

“Eddie?!”

“I’m kidding,” his face softens, blocks his face from your hand that’s come to playfully strike his arm. “‘Course I used a condom. If I didn’t, you’d probably have a little Munson right in your stomach.”

You let your head fall on the pillow. “It’s too soon.”

“Yeah. We still got that Corroded Coffin world tour to do. A baby’s gonna stop us from doing that,” but Eddie’s hand comes up and down your waist to your stomach, as if caressing a non-existent bump.

“I can’t jump up and down with a baby in my stomach, y’know?” Eddie scrunches his nose at you. “It’s gonna fall down my vagina.”

He shudders in disgust. “Gross.”

Eddie digs his face onto the crook of your neck. You can feel the exhale of his nose against your flesh. His morning hugs, in your opinions, are the best of all his hugs – tired but motivated by your presence, tight in a way that says he’s never letting you go, sweet in a way that says he adores you more than anything else in this world. It’s the type of hug that makes you feel safe, comforted, especially in moments where you feel like a rock’s pulling you down to the bottom of the ocean.

Especially then.

In his arms is of a benevolent sanctuary. Providing you the love you crave for, the attention you deserve. Being in his abode is a well enough sign that you’re so much more to him.

In that blissful hug, he pulls away just to look at you again. Eddie’s hand comes down to soothe your thigh. “I think I forgot to clean you up last night,”

“We fell asleep right after, bub,” you say. “We’re actually still both sticky. It’s gross and we need to shower, to be honest.”

“We’ll shower later. I’ll wipe you down first,” he gives your forehead a quick kiss before he’s pushing the covers off his body. Sitting up, his back stretches to rid the sleep of his body, until they muster up the energy to stand him up to the ground. He picks out a new pair of briefs off the cabinet nearby and wears them quickly.

Eddie catches you eyeing his dick and smiles teasingly. “Tsk tsk. It’s eight in the morning and you’re staring at a dick, (y/n)? Perv.”

You gasp. “Oh, I’m the perv? Who was the one who kept rubbing their hard-on on my ass because I was wearing a skirt, huh? Feel that babe? I’m so hard and horny for you! Forget your stupid homework.”  You mock his voice, deeper than his usual.

“In my defense, that skirt was like, halfway down your ass.”

“It’s because I was bending.”

“Still!” He bends to pick up your underwear, dangles them in front of you. “Cute panties, babe. It kind of represents me, with the cute little devils and shit.”

“Eds, you chose those,” you sit up and rest on the headboard, covering the duvet around you. He rummages more to pick out new undergarments and tosses them to you, pulling two other shirts but keeps them folded on top of the cabinet. “Remember when you ripped mine off?”

“It was kind of sexy, though, admit it,” he winks. “Wait, don’t put them on, give me a second.”

He disappears outside his bedroom for a few seconds before he comes back with a washcloth in his hand. Eddie crawls to the bed, the bedsprings squeaking from his weight. And while he quietly asks for you to remove the cover off, his hand gently holds your ankle and spreads your legs apart.

“Baby, you’re still swollen,” he murmurs. Eddie kisses your knee and drags the cloth on the inside of your thigh. “Was I too rough last night, sweets?”

“A bit, yeah,” you wince when he presses a bit harder on your cunt, a kiss on your thigh as an apology. “But I – I liked it. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, bet you did,” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. He drags the cloth up to your navel, to your stomach where he meticulously wipes ever part, even to your exposed chest, bathing you with a simple rag. But he doesn’t wipe your face, instead encasing your small head between his large fingers and looks at you.

His eyes dance on every ridge of your face. Gentle eyes that know him for who he truly is, ones that have seen him in his happiest, in his lowest, when he’s mad. Gentle eyes that look at him as if he’s worth something. Lips that whisper the sweetest thing at nights when, and even when he doesn’t need it, makes him feel sufficient in this cruel world. Lips that he begs to kiss every minute and every second of the day to let everyone know that you’re the angel in his dark world.

Eddie sits up and takes a shirt from behind him – large, black with the DIO logo on the top. “Hands up,” he instructs you. Slowly, you oblige. He slips the shirt on easily, and gives your nose a feather light kiss before he discards the rag inside the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of new jeans – black and ripped, pale knees exposed through the broken threads. Eddie’s also got a new pair of underwear, yours, in the other hand is a box of Honeycomb and two bottles of Yoo-hoo. He sets the cereal aside, hands pulling on your ankles and slips your feet in both holes before he pulls them up for you.

“I can wear them by myself, y’know,” you wave your foot around his face.

“I prefer doing it for you, gorgeous,” he blows a kiss at you. Eddie picks the Honeycomb from the ground and offers you, where you gladly took like a hungry child. He watches you chew on them, a large cluster shoved inside your mouth, only to be watered down by the chocolate drink – a thing you picked up from eating breakfast almost every morning with your boyfriend. “Slow down. You’ll choke,”

He wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, cleaning it off by sucking the milk off his skin. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you joke, mouthful of damp Honeycomb.

“Ah?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at you before he takes the box from your hands. He shoves a large amount inside his mouth like a hypocrite, drowns the dry breakfast with chocolate milk just like you did. “You don’t get more, then.”

“Hey, I’m kidding!” you reach forward to helplessly grab the box off his hands. You expect him to wrestle with you, but he knows you’re tired still and offers you the box. “I’ll eat slow this time,”

With a smile, he gives you the box and stands up. Eddie struts his way to the guitar on his mirror, taking it off and slinging it around him; it must have been his short attention span that he’s suddenly decided to play his guitar early in the morning. You smile while chewing, and he points at you as if you were at one of his shows, dedicating whatever song he plays.

Motörhead’s Love Me Forever’s first verse plays, the lack of amplifier making it sound like an acoustic. Eddie looks down on his hands that switch between chords complicated for you, bobbing his head on each tempo.

“Love me forever or not at all

End of our tether, backs to the wall,”

Though his primary genre is metal, Eddie's voice is that of a dulcet resonance. Pitch flawless at any octave; Eddie can lull you with any made-up lullaby at any insomniac night with a hand massaging your scalp, pulling you closer to his body. It’s your own personal harp – your own music. And if you could, you’d like to keep him to yourself forever.

“Give me your hand, don’t you ever ask why

Promise me nothing, live ‘till we die,”

Eddie sits beside you, red guitar on his lap, and urges you to straddle his knees. Just enough where his hands can still pluck on the strings. Your bare thighs scrape on his knees as you sit on them, clad only in his shirt and a pair of panties that you left long ago. Your hands play with his hair, his eye lined to your nose so he’s looking up at you with his pretty eyes, an admiring twinkle in them as they stare into yours.

“Everything changes, it’s all the same,” you sing with him, voice coalescing perfectly as your fingers coif his hair. Eddie leans close and kisses you chastely, lets you sing the next line alone in the quiet room. “Everyone guilty, no one to blame,”

“Every way out brings you back to the start, everyone dies to break someone’s heart,” with bangs parted in the middle, you press your lips on his forehead. Eddie closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction, a hand leaving his guitar to place itself on your back to prevent you from falling.

You admire his tattoos – five bats, a puppet – like Master of Puppets by Metallica – and other black tattoos that signify Eddie. Your fingers kiss the permanent art, eyes worshiping the inked skin.

You pull away to squish his face between your hands, cheeks pushed together that his lips are puckered. Eddie widens his eyes at you. “You’re clingier than usual,” you confess.

“What? You don’t like it?” his eyes fall into an umbra of disquiet, but tries to fool you with the squished smile. “Little Elf does not accept the Dungeon Master’s devotion? His heart’s demolished!”

Eddie teases you in his usual DM voice, deep and supposedly haunting. But you laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his shoulders. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”

It dawns on you, just seconds ago, that your boyfriend doesn’t usually indulge in sweeter moments other than cleaning you up and offering you breakfast, but never before singing you a song early in the morning.

It must have been because of what happened – Hawkins’s students muttering freak under their breath whenever he’d passed by, which he disregards as something he’s already used to but really you both know it hurts him, tattooing it in his mind as a taunt and an insult that’ll forever taunt him.

Yesterday was no different, however, took a masked toll on him. Freak muttered by at least four kids, less than the usual, and he remains unbothered. Until he heard that some asshat from the Basketball team plans on making the move on you, and that they’d prefer him than a freak for some girl like you.

And he thinks, sadly, that you might have thought the same. And so he’s trying his best to be better – sweeter – for you. Just like what he thought you wanted. Because the guilt’s eating him up alive, wrapping it around his neck to keep him still and gnawing on his flesh. So here he is, playing a song for you in the morning with all his might, and the heartwarming smile on your face eases the tension in his chest.

That was, until, you brought it up.

“What are you talking about?” you lean back a bit as he removes his guitar and onto the bed beside him. Eddie acts casual, pretends he’s got no idea what you’re saying. “Why what happened yesterday? Did someone hurt you?”

“We go to the same school, Eds. We hear the same gossip.” You clarify. “I know you heard it. About McKinney planning on asking me out. And how people say-”

“That he’s better fitting for you?” he finishes. “Yeah I heard it. Guilty,” he chuckles dryly, avoiding your eyes in shame. “Y’know, they’re kind of right.”

You remove your hands from him, instead on his thighs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a normal guy. In the basketball team, friends with popular guys, good looking,” He lists them off with three fingers, raising his eyebrows at each declaration. You take Eddie’s hand into yours and pull it down.

“Are you saying you don’t…fit, with me?”

Your small voice breaks his heart, no doubt, but he only thinks he’s stating the truth. “I mean, am I not? I’m a freak, (y/n). I’ve – I have always been. You’re special, unlike anybody else, and yet here you are with me, Hawkins High’s legendary freak.”

“Eddie, I don’t care,” You pull on his fingers, twirling the rings around as a comforting manner. “You think I would have dated you if I thought you were some psycho?”

“Babe, I said freak, not psycho. Those are two different things-”

“Semantics!”

“They’re-” he laughs, a wheeze. “They’re not semantics-”

“I don’t care, Eddie.” You take his face into your hands, palms small but face fitting well like a key to a lock. “I don’t care. What even made you think this way?”

Baneful overthinking. Realization. Normal Eddie Munson stuff. “Because I am a freak,” he takes your hands off, but places his own on your waist to keep you in place. “And I just think you deserve so much better.”

“What, you think I want to be with those pretentious assholes?” you scoff. “They’re so boring, Eddie. I’d be miserable the entire time I’m with them. They’re basic, they’re two-faced. I don’t want to be with them.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s mean.”

“Well they’re mean, and I can be meaner,” you raise your eyebrows. “You know I can be meaner, Eddie.”

He remembers. You can be meaner. And as much as that laughable memory paints a smile on his face, it’s the least of what he’s thinking right now. “But do you actually think that I’m a freak? Just because I’m the leader of this club? Or – or I listen to metal or I’ve got long hair, or I sell drugs?”

“What, you wanna be like them?” you push his hair away out of his face. “I mean, being a freak is the best, Eddie. You’ve got personality. You’re way awesome than Jason Carver and his pale ass. It’s what makes you…you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up and taking his hand with you. “You’re my Eddie, Eddie.”

Eddie takes your waist into his hand, the other taking your hand to rest on his shoulder. And while he raises your other joint fingers, he finds himself resting his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

“Eddie I love you so,” he smiles at your voice, like a harp sitting on a cloud in heaven that pulls him up from hell. He kisses your joint hands, on your knuckle. “Eddie please write one more line,”

He spins you around, tugs you back to his chest where your temple rests on a tattoo right above his left chest. He kisses the top of your head, like earlier, and hums along with you.

“Tell me your love is still only mine. Please Eddie don’t make me wait too long.”

In the middle of his small bedroom, swaying to your voice and eternal music inside your tethered minds, he unveils your soul then like he always does and loves it in forbearance. The moment an insignia from the quiet prosed promises you made to each other but kept to yourselves:

“I love you,” he whispers. “I promise to love you forever.”

banner by @/lauras-collection

[moonlight-prose]

babes i’m coming in for my first pedro request!! a surprise encounter with frankie morales? 🖤

FUTURE LOVER

a/n: when i say i haven't written for frankie in a hot minute, i mean probably a whole year or more. but i am so in love with him and plotting a series for him. so this is such good inspo for me to actually write it. it was meant to be short and sweet, but i always get carried away when it comes to him. i hope you enjoy! (the title is based on the song by thee sacred souls).

summary: "you wanted his flames to consume you, to give you everything you could have wanted out of love. something in you called out to him—telling you with certainty that you’d never find another like him."

word count: 1.1k+

pairing: frankie morales x reader

warnings: not explicit, fluff, surprise encounters, hints at love at first sight but not really, frankie being flirty, overall sweetness.

You didn’t want to be here, sitting in this goddamn restaurant alone with nothing to keep you company except the glass of wine in front of you. Yet even as you sipped at it, your lipstick staining the edge of the glass, you felt like it was mocking you. Telling you that agreeing to go on the date was a bad idea to begin with.

When he asked, you didn’t think anything of it. After all, what was the harm in going on a simple date? If it didn’t work out there was the option of one date and only one date. Yet could you say the same thing if there was no one date to begin with? There you were, sitting alone at the table and glaring at the empty seat straight across from you. The same seat your date was supposed to be occupying.

At first you played it off as them being late—something must have come up for them to not be here on time. Except when the first hour passed, and you were still alone, it seemed you were shit out of luck. Sighing, you tried to make the best of it. Perhaps you could order dinner, treat yourself to dessert, and head home where a movie and your bed was waiting. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to even pick up the menu. You wanted to scream in frustration, call the man who left you hanging high and dry simply to reprimand him.

Yet you couldn’t do that either.

Somewhere in between the waiter pouring you another glass and the hour mark passing you by, you had become still. Unable to move, to really do anything except sit there and wait. For what you weren’t sure.

Fighting back the sting of fresh tears, you downed the remainder of your glass, trying to move as calmly as possible lest people were looking at you. But who were you kidding? You could practically feel the burn of the waiters' stares—their pity so thick you could taste it in the air. They must not see people get stood up often in this place, or else they would have simply ignored you. Or at least…that’s what you hoped was the case.

“Can I get the check?” you asked sullenly as the waiter returned, his eyes soft and prying.

The price of the wine was reasonable enough, yet it still made your heart twinge at the realization that it was the only thing on the receipt. You could have at least ordered yourself something to take home. But it was too late and you were anxious to get the fuck out of here. Dropping some cash on the table, you attempted to gather your things, before your attention was being grabbed and pulled away.

Someone was dragging the chair away from the table, taking a seat across from you with a soft smile, and for a moment you felt the breath leave your lungs. The first thing you noticed was that this man was not your date. The second thing that caught your interest was his eyes. The soft rich brown hue had you wishing you could lose yourself in them even longer. Slight crinkles showed at the corner of his eyes—some gray hinted in his patchy beard, yet you found you couldn’t look away.

He cleared his throat softly, gathering enough of your attention to finally introduce himself. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you were sitting here by yourself…”

“You’re not being rude. Believe me.” Perhaps the words were too filled with conviction, but you were well and thoroughly upset at your situation.

“Ah…” He sucked in a breath, his eyes drifting down to the wine red dress you wore—the fabric a beautiful velvet. “I was sitting with my friends and thought you were the prettiest woman here.”

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Oh…” You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say to that. There was no denying the fact that he was attractive. You could say with absolute certainty that he was better looking than your missing date, and for a moment you felt a rush of joy at the fact that you were sitting here alone. “Thank you,” you murmured, hoping that he would remain here.

“What was his name?” he asked, shifting forward slightly, the soft smile on his face sending your heartbeat into a flutter.

“Derek,” you scoffed.

He cringed at the name, drawing out a laugh from you. He quickly came to the conclusion that he loved the sound; he intended to hear it again before the night ended. When the guys suggested that going out for a nice dinner to celebrate him getting his new job was a good idea, he had originally been apprehensive. He wasn’t one for dressing up and certainly didn’t find sitting in a stuffy restaurant appealing. But then he saw you. Glaring at a wine glass and nervously tapping your lacquered nails on the table.

He had never wanted to speak to someone so much before—feeling the urge build the longer he sat there. Having to listen to Pope recount tales from the old days is what spurred him to finally make the move. After all, he’d heard all the stories, knew them by heart, because he was there when it happened.

“What’s your name?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from seeming too eager. Although something told you he wouldn’t mind.

His smile deepened. “Frankie.”

“Just Frankie?”

That got a chuckle out of him and you tried to steady your breaths—your eyes no doubt glimmering with a dazed look of awe. What were the fucking chances of finding him here? In your miserable state.

“Francisco Morales,” he said, holding out his hand across the table.

You took it without hesitation. Enjoying the feel of his calloused skin brushing against yours. He was warm, the feeling of it pressing softly into you and lighting you up on the inside. Whoever this man was certainly had an instant hold over you—his smile, enough to feel your entire being burn. You wanted his flames to consume you, to give you everything you could have wanted out of love. Something in you called out to him—telling you with certainty that you’d never find another like him.

So you told him your name, shaking his hand for longer than necessary—the lost date pushed out of your mind entirely.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, scooting his chair in and settling further into the chair. “Mind if I join you for dinner?”

You nodded, finally gathering the menu and opening it with ease. “So Frankie…”

“Hm?”

“Do you like steak?” you asked with a smile, staring at their main course.

He grinned, his heart hammering in his chest. “Love it,” he said, knowing that no matter how this night went. He was glad he gained the courage to sit down at your table and say hi.