#i like beer but again in the winter and not when it’s warm

[oblivion-wonderlust]

resisting the urge to go buy some gin and tonic water and limes but this hot weather is really making me want to sip on gin and tonic

[myfictionaldreams]

First Time // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the beginning, you were simply four friends but how was it that you all became more than this? 

A/N: This has been requested so many times so I hope everyone enjoys the reader’s first time with the Marauders!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, foursome, fluff, dom/sub undertones, loss of virginity (reader’s first time), first kiss, blindfolds, intense, multiple orgasms, creampie, vaginal fingering, discussion of masturbation, wanking, anxiety, friends to lovers, praise kink, size difference, overstimulation

Words: 7.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

The four of you were inseparable. Had been since the very first day on the train to Hogwarts. It was by sheer accident that you’d stumbled into their compartment, a nervous, quiet girl with no idea where to go and before you’d even opened your mouth to ask if you could sit with them, James was standing with his hand held out, “Hi my names James Potter, what's yours?”

From the outside, it looked like an odd friendship, having always remained the quiet student at the back of the class compared to the famous troublemakers that were: James, Sirius and Remus, they almost took you under their wing.

All these years later, you were never seen without one of them by your side. With your timidness, they often liked to be perceived as your protectors, and even though your fellow Gryffindors often joked about it, that sort of friendship is one you craved, needing to feel safe. It also didn’t help that they were undeniably handsome, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide your attraction to them.

This added to the fact that due to the nature of your close relationship, they tended to be more affectionate with you than anyone else that had you hiding smiles, cheeks warm to the touch and heart beating firmer in your chest. Especially recently, the Marauders tended to keep one hand on your person at all times whether it’s casually holding your hand, resting one of your thighs in class or slinging an arm over your shoulder, it almost felt natural to be close to them at all times.

On this particular day, a group of Gryffindors were in the Hog's head, squished into a booth, drinking butter beer and laughing at Frank's attempt of convincing the bartender to serve him some fire whiskey. Taking another sip of the sugary goodness that was butter beer, the hand resting against your thigh squeezed slightly, making you look in the direction of the owner but Sirius was still shouting something to Frank at the bar.

The touch was always intimate, almost as intimate as the army casually thrown across your back, pulling you into the warmth of James as he chuckled into his own drink. You felt safe and happy squished between them both, glancing almost on instinct to the third who happened to be smiling at you from across the table. Remus’s gaze had your eyes dropping to a stare at a spot on the table to stop from grinning.

“It’s getting late and I think it’s still snowing, should we head back to the castle?” Marlene asked the group, the majority of which agreed, finishing their drinks and beginning to pile on the layers of clothing to face the winter weather.

When neither of the Marauders moved, you glanced up at James who was looking steadily at Remus for a moment before addressing his friends. “I’m not quite sure we’re ready to head back just yet, we’ll catch you later”.

“Don’t leave it too long guys with this weather, you know what she’s like on the icey path”, Marlene jokingly teased as she nodded in your direction. Your only response was a deadpan look in her direction, you weren’t that much of a liability, having only fallen over once and even then, Remus had caught you before colliding with the floor.

“Oh you know us, we wouldn’t let anything happen to her”, Sirius responded with his own smile, once again squeezing your thigh, his thumb stroking idle circles into the skin. Lifting the glass to your mouth to hide your giddy smile, you caught Lily’s eye as she reflected the smile you were hiding. Lily had known about your feelings for the boys, in fact, you were sure everyone knew but Lily was the only one you trusted to run to where you could discuss it in detail.

The group eventually left the four of you, and James was quick to buy another round of drinks for you all. Sirius's body shifted closer to yours, his lips hovering next to your ear as he asked, “So what would you like to do? Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?” It was an innocent question but the way his eyes dropped to your lips, your heart fluttered faster behind your ribcage.

“I’ll do anything you guys want to do”.

“Oh, are you sure about that?” Sirius teased, his hand slide an inch higher on your thighs.

Knocking your shoulder against his, you playfully responded, “Stop teasing me, Sirius”.

James returned with the drinks, his arm returning to your shoulders as they began to contemplate possible places to visit. The shops had closed now so there were only a few places left such as a different pub but it was Remus who suggested; “why don’t we take her to our special space?”

Looking between the three Marauders, eyebrows knitting together, you had no idea where they were referring to, even more, confused as both James and Sirius agreed that was a good place to visit.

“How mysterious”, you quipped, drinking more of the butter beer, enjoying the slight buzz it was giving you, leaning further into James’ warmth, feeling completely relaxed. James smiled down at you, not that you could see from where you were smiling at Remus across the table as he tapped his foot against yours under the table.

There was only an hour left of daylight when the four of you finished your beverages and began to wrap up in hats, gloves and scarves, Sirius even helping you to zip up your coat before gripping your hips and steering you towards the exit. The hold was possessive but you didn’t mind.

It was ice cold outside, your cheeks burning from the bitter wind but luckily Remus was right there, offering his arm for you to huddle into. The tallest Marauder always ran oddly warm but you knew it was due to his furry little problem, of which he had confessed to you many years ago.

You weren’t paying much attention as to where they were taking you until the barbed wire fence was in your eyesight and you stopped in the middle of the path.

“I’m not going in there are you mad?”, your eyes were wide as you looked at the shrieking shack, the decrepit building swaying with the bitter winds.

“You aren’t scared are you?” Sirius mocked, stepping closer which caused you to lean further into Remus’ body. James joined in as well until they were all crowding around your frame, all three of them were much taller than you, which only meant that was something else that they could tease you for. 

“Don’t be scared, we’ll protect you.”

“The ghouls and ghosts won’t get you with your handsome knights to protect you.” 

Remus lightly shoved James and Sirius away at their joking which only made them laugh but you weren’t concentrating on that as you had realised that as you’d been leaning into Remus’ body, your hand had reached behind and was squeezing his thigh in fear.

Your body warmed with embarrassment, quickly letting go whilst ignoring just how muscular it felt and apologising to the scarred Marauder but he only smiled down endearingly at you, taking your smaller hand in his. 

“It’s not haunted, don’t listen to these idiots. This is where I come for my monthly visits”. This made you feel a little more relieved but it was still slightly terrifying as you all approached the building, making sure no one was around to see you all casually walking into the most haunted building in the UK.

The inside wasn’t as ghastly compared to the exterior, it was still rickety but clearly, from the boys’ regular visits, it was decorated nicely, even having a room with a lovely four-post bed, decorated with red silk sheets and three high back chairs surrounding a fire that Sirius swiftly lit with his wand.

“It’s cute!” you admit, looking at the bed before standing in front of the fire, beginning to take off your outside wear as the room began to heat.

As the sun began to set outside, the four of you relaxed in the room, Sirius sitting on the floor in front of the fire with the remaining three including you in the chairs. “Shall we check the map? I’d put 5 galleons on Alice and Frank being in a classroom somewhere”, James predicted, reaching into his back pocket and revealing the Marauders map, waving his wand and muttering the line and watching mesmerised as the map came to life.

This was one of the best things the group had created, spending hours and hours spying on students without leaving the comfort of your chair and it had revealed many people’s relationships.

“Ah, there I knew it!” James announced, pointing on the map to where Alice and Frank's name labels were hovering suspiciously close in an empty classroom. “Of course, it’s in that specific classroom as well, I’m pretty sure everyone in our years snogged in that room.”

A giggle spilt from your mouth, “not everyone James”, you admitted casually, looking at the other names on the map to see if there was any more gossip to reveal, not knowing the dumbstruck expression from the men surrounding you.

“What? I thought you had a little thing with Cresswell?” Remus asked perplexed.

“What, no! I’ve never even kissed anyone else, let alone be alone with him, ew-”

“What did you say?” Sirius asked, cutting you off on your disgusted tangent. You now realised just how much you had let slip. It wasn’t like you had been going out of your way not to be kissed, in fact, you rather liked the thought of being intimate with someone else but the opportunity had never come your way.

“I mean, yeah I’ve never kissed anyone before but it’s fine, I don’t mind”, it was a small white lie but you just wanted the conversation to move on. 

“But… how?!” James asked, moving slightly closer to you.

“Well, how can anyone get close enough to me to kiss me when you’re always around? I mean do you remember when Lockhart tried to ask me to Slughorn’s Christmas ball? You just about traumatised the poor guy”.

James smirked at the memory, “If I do recall correctly, you didn’t want to go with him anyway”.

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make, I’ve just not had the opportunity and anyway, it’s fine! Can we please stop talking about it, this is embarrassing”.

The Marauders wanted to do anything but move on from this conversation, Remus decided to speak next, his voice low as he asked: “Would you like to kiss someone?”

Your eyes widened slightly, immediately looking into his, mouth feeling suddenly dry, your body feeling too warm as Sirius continued the questioning front the floor, “I mean if you’re going to kiss someone, it might as well be with someone you trust… right?”

Your automatic response was to laugh, not being able to hide the anxiety laced in your voice, moving subtly to sit on your hands to hide the gentle tremble. “Well, now there’s loads of pressure! What if I’m a bad kisser and then you never talk to me again? And who am I supposed to pick? And-”

“Honey, stop freaking out, it’s not supposed to give you anxiety, it’s a nice thing”, James tried to reason with you, his hand reaching across from where he sat to gently brush down your arm before his eyes lit up with an idea. “How about - if you still want to -, we make this easier for you?”

James took out his wand from his pocket, pointing it at one of his gloves that lay over the arm of his chair, and in a split second, the material had changed into a long cloth. Picking it up, he held it out to you, “What if you can’t see who kisses you, then you don’t have to worry about the anxiety of picking and if you don’t like it we can stop and act as if nothing has happened and you won’t even be able to tell who you’d kissed?”

You stared at the cloth in his hand, realising it was meant to be used for a blindfold. There was nothing that you wanted more than to say yes and before even contemplating the realities of the situation, you were agreeing to his proposition.

One moment you were sitting in your chair, and the next you were in the centre of the room, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your sight completely masked by the cloth now tied around your head.

“Relax darling”, Sirius spoke next to your ear. His request was easier said than done as you could hear the three of them walking around you in a circle, so you couldn’t tell who was about to kiss you, losing track the further they walked as to where it sounded like Sirius had even been stood.

Your hands were shaking even more at your sides, mentally you tried to remember to breathe. But this was such a weird situation to be in, your limbs didn’t even feel like they were a part of your body now, where were you supposed to do with your arms? And your lips, should you purse your lips in preparation? Should you have brushed your teeth?

A single finger slides under your chin, stopping any thought from spiralling through your mind. With ease, your head was tipped back, almost impossibly far from how your neck ached, forgetting just how much taller the boys were than you. The sweet butterbeer breath then fanned across the skin of your face and also gave nothing away as you all had been drinking it.

Then a pair of lips were touching yours. Delicately. Tentatively. Almost as if they were scared that you were going to break, so soft that your initial reaction wasn’t too tense like you’d expect it to be, but instead your shoulders dropped slightly with ease. Whoever it was were more than careful and you were truly unable to identify just who it was.

And then they were gone, leaving your head tilted back, mind ablaze with wanting and needing them to come back.

Having heard your thoughts, a warm hand glided across your jaw, holding the position of your head as lips were suddenly pressing against yours once more with a much more intense pressure. The lips were full, slightly moist from where the Marauder had licked them before leaning in. Your nose pressed into his cheek which meant that you could move past the smell of the butter beer and his natural scent filled your sense giving you the identification of whom you were kissing.

Not that you needed to as Sirius’ long hair brushed across your face. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest that you were sure that he could hear it but it didn’t stop him from holding you close.

It felt almost normal, natural even as your best friend pushed his lips harder against yours for a second before pulling back. You were confused by the loss of his lips but he was only tilting his head and then he was kissing you again with more passion. On instinct, you sighed into the touch, your body feeling like it was melting into the floor as Sirius moved his lips steadily against yours, giving you time to accustomed to the movements of kissing before he was backing off.

In the far reaches of your mind, you were having an absolute meltdown, screaming into your consciousness that you were actually kissing your best friends. The Marauders, your childhood friends were actually kissing you.

Another person was stepping into your personal bubble, hand once again on your jaw, cradling your head and another hand slid to your hip, pulling your body flush against a much firmer one. Then you were being kissed again, head tilted at the same angle that Sirius had held you in but with a little bit of practice, you leaned further into the embrace, hand lifting to rest against James’ chest, knowing it was him from the lingering musky cologne that was on his skin and only he had these specific toned hard body from his Quidditch practice.

A small moan escaped you, lost completely in the time and it was like sweet music to James as he smiled against your mouth but just like Sirius, just as you were starting to get into it, he stepped back leaving you feeling cold and lonely.

Instinctinyl your body tried to follow after him but he was already out of your grasp, their footsteps could still be heard, even if you couldn’t see a single thing through the blindfold. It was highly disorientating, almost felt dizzy but that was also mostly from the breathless kisses. As the three men continued to talk in circles around you, your tongue darted out and moistened your lips and you had to hold back a groan at being able to taste something that wasn’t you, realising it was a mixture of Sirius and James' mouths.

As you took a deep breath to try and gather more courage a body was once more in front of yours, tilting your chin further and further until Remus could lean in and capture your lips.

Remus absolutely devoured your mouth. Holding you close so he could press you closer, his tongue teasing against your lips, begging for you to respond to him which you did, opening and letting his tongue dance with yours. Raising onto your tip toes to try and reach more of him, needing more, already as addicted to his taste as you were to the other two, needing his warmth.

You could have cried with happiness as he didn’t step back immediately as his lips left yours. Instead, they made their own path down your neck, tasting your skin, finding the areas that had your knees wobbling and breath catching in your throat.

But of course, this would not last as he was gone again but thankfully the wait wasn’t long as a different set of lips were replacing Remus’, this time exploring your jaw, spending time to tease beneath your ear where you hadn’t realised you were so sensitive until a shiver passed through you.

Your hands found their way into the shirt of the man now gently nibbling your ear, the press of his glasses against your cheek, you knew it was James who had returned. With nothing covering your mouth, there was nothing to hold back the mewls and whimpers, especially as James moved lower, teeth grazing over your pulse mouth. His wicked mouth was sending you into a needy puddle.

“Please…”. You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for but Sirius answered by sliding his body behind yours, his hands resting comfortably against your hips, dipping his head to the opposite side of your neck to James.

“What do you want sweetheart?”

“I don’t know…”, you internally cursed yourself with just how desperate you sounded. It wasn’t that there was anything specifically that you were wanting, just knowing you needed everything.

Having already kissed all three of them, which was a big deal in itself, but the dampening between your legs was desperately screaming to be touched, and you wanted to touch them, even if you weren’t sure what to do.

“I can see you thinking too much, just breath Baby, relax into our touch, let us make you feel good.”

Your mind seemed to disappear of all thoughts, the only sensation was the burning of your skin with every nibble and lick that they doing to your body. However, your anxiety was always there just to bubble to the surface, your body tensing slightly as you stuttered.

“But…But I-”.

James stopped kissing your neck, all three of them pausing feeling the tension as you began to panic. Sirius ran a warm hand up your clothed back in soothing circled as you struggled to think of the words you were desperate to say.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do love. We can stop if it’s getting too much for you”, Sirius continued to try and soothe you.

“I don’t want to stop”, you finally were able to choke out, something that you truly meant. “I just-”, biting your lip contemplating the words, slightly embarrassed but a rough fingertip eased your lip from between your teeth.

“Talk to us,” it was Remus now speaking from somewhere to your right, but you couldn’t feel him other than the finger and thumb on your chin.

“I don’t know what I’m doing”, you admitted finally.

To be honest, you’d expected them to laugh however when they didn’t, your body seemed to relax, especially realising that they were all now stroking a part of your body to try and help to calm you down.

“We don’t expect you to know what you are doing love. We want you to experience these things, to make you feel good. Just let us take care of you. Do you want the blindfold off?” Remus asked.

You shook your head with a response of now. Even though you could tell who was kissing you now, the thought of actually looking them in the eye was too real. They were your best friends, and they were making you feel good so in your blissful ignorance of having a blindfold on, you didn’t have to look them in the eye at least.

“Do you want to continue?” James asked from in front, his lips grazing your temple in a comforting way.

“Yes”.

“Will you tell us to stop if you become too uncomfortable?”

“Yes”.

No one moved for a moment, almost having a silent conversation between the three of them before James was tilting your head back from where it was leaning on Sirius’ chest. You’d expected him to kiss you but his lips moved lower, lips pursed blowing cool air against your burning skin. His hand which was slightly rough from the calloused from training on his broom, inched down your neck, following the sensual air that he was blowing until he teased the material of your shirt.

Your chest was rising and falling dramatically, desperately sucking in air as you didn’t stop his fingers as he began to unbutton your shirt, slowly, one at a time, making sure to stroke the exposed skin until reaching the top of your breasts did he stop.

However, he only stopped so that he could push the material away from your shoulder, moving to kiss the skin there, the sensations once again new. However, Remus didn’t give you time to gasp as he tilted your face in the direction that he was facing, kissing you breathlessly and hungrily.

Sirius still stood behind you, pulling your body into his enough that if you weren’t being distracted by the other two, you’d noticed the throbbing lump in his trousers. Instinctively you were leaning into him more, savouring his warmth. Sirius’ hands began to curve around your waist, teasing along the hem of your shirt, dipping beneath to brush against your bare skin. Your hips rolled as his fingers ticked slightly but you already knew you’d be craving to feel his fingers on your skin in the future, loving the sensation of someone actually touching you in an area that had been unexplored before.

The long-haired Marauder began to unbutton your shirt from the bottom, slowly grazing over your navel until there was only one single button holding your shirt together in between your breasts.

Remus pulled back to peek down at your body, sucking in a breath as his eyes darkened, watching Sirius unbutton the last one with a simple flick of his fingers, exposing your front. Your shirt floated open to reveal the laced bra covering your breasts, but your perked nipples were still visible through the thin material.

“So fucking pretty”, James complimented as he pushed the offending material off your shoulders and onto the floor and stared down at your chest like the other two men. You were already flushing at the compliment and would have probably combusted if you could see the hungry gaze of the Marauders looking at your body.

James couldn’t wait anymore as his large hand cupped your breast and his tongue licked your nipple through the lace. “Ah!” your back arched into the touch, fingers desperately gripping into his messy hair, holding him there. Even though his tongue was warm and soft, the sensation it caused was like hot fire straight to your core, like a bolt that had your thighs rubbing together to try and ease some of the tension that was catapulting through you.

It felt so good that you were begging for more with a desperate plea as James moved to the other breast. Sirius was going absolutely feral for your moans, having wanted to hear them for so long but he needed to keep his calm, instead moving to inch his hand up your naked spine, finding the clasp of your bra and with a single kiss to the back of your head, undid the bra.

The thin straps fell from your shoulders and you had to momentarily release the grip on James’ hair to allow the material to fall completely from your body and onto the floor. Without even a second to process the venerable state that you were in, being topless around another person for the first time, James and Remus moved with sync and began to worship your breasts.

Each nipple was sucked into the warm mouth, teeth teasing the tip before being comforted by a stroke of a tongue, hands squeezing the rest of the flesh of your breasts, absolutely taking your breath away. Each movement had your body rock and underwear continuing to dampen.

Your head flew back against Sirius’ chest, glad that he was there to support you, feeling unsteady.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful” Sirius’ voice was rasping as he whispered into your ear. With gentle hands, he tilted your head back so that he could kiss you passionately, almost dizzy with lust, forgetting to breathe as his tongue stroked yours. Sensing your unsteadiness, Sirius pulled back, much to your distaste as you groaned in want. “Remember to breath”, he reminded you.

Remus pulled off your nipple with an audible ‘pop’, looking up into your face to make sure that you did as instructed, smiling as you gasped for a couple of breaths. Once again your knees felt unsteady with holding up your body as James gave a significant suck to your nipple.

“Let’s move onto a more sturdy surface”, Remus suggested but you were hardly even listening with the euphoria you were experiencing, feeling completely alive and blazing. However as you were moved by the three men, it was even more disorientating, not knowing where you even were in the room anymore until you were being eased down onto the soft, silky bed.

Shifting until you could feel the divots of the pillow in the centre of the bed, it dawned on you just how exposed and intimate it was with the position that you were in. Especially as you weren’t joined immediately, knowing they were looking at you lying and waiting on the bed for them.

Eventually, one of them climbed onto the bed and you could feel it dip by your feet as whoever it was inched between your legs, crawling your body until they were able to kiss up your sternum. Moaning as whoever was touching your body, grazed the edge of your trousers, teasing for them to be undone.

Then the bed was shifting again as someone else climbed onto it, picking up one of your hands, kissing your palm, and making his way up your forearm. The lips tickled the skin as they made their own journey towards your mouth before you were devoured by Sirius, his taste exploding against your tongue as he released his own groan that caused your hips to roll against Remus, hinting for him to carry on with his plan.

Slowly, your trouser button and zipper were undone to allow him to begin pulling them down your legs. Remus was quick to kiss the newly exposed skin down your legs, whispering “beautiful” between pecks.

“You’ll tell us to stop if it’s too much…?” James asked from across the bed, he’d been watching his friends devour you, trying to memorise the sight before him, knowing they were approaching a place that they could not return from.

“Don’t stop,” you say breathlessly as Sirius had moved away for you to answer the question. Remus grinned against your leg, hooking his fingers into your underwear, dragging the material down your naked legs and at the same time, James began leaning down to kiss your breasts again, making sure to keep your arousal high as he ran the rips of his fingers over the curves of your hips, hitting a particulary sensitive spot on the inside.

Sirius wanted to kiss you again, seeing you completely naked on the bed but he also wanted to see your reaction to being touched for the first time so he waited, even though you were half covered by the blindfold, he watched your mouth as Remus made the first move between your legs.

With his scarred hand he began by brushing a hand over your mound, tickling the skin, as he used his other hand to open your legs up further, giving him a better view as his thumb finally stroked your clit.

“Oh Merlin”, you cried out, back arching which only pushed your breast further into James’ mouth. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, someone was actually touching your pussy.

Remus didn’t want to completely overwhelm you so made sure to keep his mouth nibbling along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, watching how your body reacted to all of the delicate touches. His thumb rolled your clit slowly in circles, matching the way you were rolling your hips.

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Remus asked with a sly smirk plastered across your face, no that you could see it. Sirius was still watching you just as intensely as Remus as he gripped your jaw tenderly, holding you there.

“Yes”.

James smiled around your puffy nipple, groaning at the thought.

“How do you touch yourself?” Remus continued his questioning.

Thankful for the blindfold, even though you were slightly embarrassed at least you weren’t having to look at them as you answered. “I…I touch myself where you’re touching”, referring to your bundle of nerves.

Remus pressed a fraction harder, drawing a moan from you. “What, here?”

“Yes”.

“Where else?”

“I … sometimes put a finger inside of me”, actually saying these words to him, your best friend was thrilling, especially as with each answer you gave, one of the three men would moan deeply.

“Just one finger?”

“Two”, you answered honestly.

“Good girl”, Sirius says to your honesty, his thumb brushing your jaw in a calming way. The praise he uttered was almost like a lightbulb moment which Remus noticed instantly as your hole suddenly clenched in arousal.

“What else do you do?” Remus continued to ask, wanting to know every single detail of your masturbation.

You were so lost in your arousal that you began talking without thinking, breathing heavily now with your mouth gaping open. “I… hump my pillow and think about this”.

This confession seemed to stop them in confusion, groaning as Remus had stopped his motions.

“What do you mean by ‘this’, love?”, James asked from your chest. You wanted to escape and tried to hide your face in the bed but Sirius’ grip held strong and then he tutted, understanding just what you meant.

“By this… did you mean us? Do you think about us when you’re touching yourself?”

“Yes”, you admitted, past the point of caring now.

“Fuck”, one of them cursed.

“Want to know something?” Sirius continued, “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve pumped my cock with you in mind. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long.”

Remus didn’t give you time to respond as he teased your entrance with his finger, his thumb continuing to tease your favourite spot. Your hips were still rolling desperate to feel more and he took that as his sign to finally breach your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so wet”, Remus groaned as he pushed his finger inside of your cunt. It was a sensation you weren’t entirely sure how to explain, it was so different to your smaller fingers but all you knew was that you wanted more as he began to slowly pull out to push back in.

Sirius and James stopped to watch how you reacted, finding it the most beautiful sight as you breathed greedily, hands clenching the sheets harshly, thighs shaking from having to keep them open, wanting nothing more than to slam them shut and ride his hand much like you’d imagined with your pillow all of those times.

As Remus added another finger to your eagerly awaiting cunt, James and Sirius swapped positions. Sirius teased and played with your breasts and kissed along your sternum as James moved between leaving open-mouth kisses along your throat, to absorbing your moans with his own mouth.

Remus was careful not to hurt you, knowing this was the first time you’d had anything the size of his fingers in there, making sure that you were wet enough and relaxed before curling his fingers and pressing more firmly in swipes across your bundle of nerves.

It was an instant reaction, to reach for that pleasure as you released the grip on the bed to try and grab Remus but instead held onto James and Sirius's heads, using them as momentum to ride the fingers inside of you.

The sensation swarmed you quickly, the coil in your abdomen almost overwhelmingly tight as you called out into Sirius’ mouth, the orgasm taking your breath away completely, legs dropping down onto the bed.

All the whilst, Remus was praising you, “That’s a good girl, you’re doing so well”. It was unlike anything you’d been able to give to yourself and it took a moment to catch your breath as the three of them waited patiently. Your entire body felt relaxed in the after-orgasmic glow.

“What do you want to do sweetheart? Do you want to stop?” Sirius asked as he tenderly kissed your cheek, something you leaned into.

“No, I want to keep going but… I don’t think-, I mean, all three of you, I don’t-”.

“Shh”, Sirius cut off your words with a swipe of his thumb against your lips. “Not all three of us, not with your first time darling. We have all the time in the world for more”. Your heart pounded at the possibility that this wasn’t a one-time thing but then another mouth next to your other ear had you drifting back to the moment as he kissed along the shell of your ear.

“It’ll just be me today my love, how does that sound? I’ll look after you…”

You nodded your head, wanting him desperately, not that it mattered which of the three it was, this was actually happening, your arousal spiking once more as you turned your head towards James to try and kiss him which he gladly reciprocated.

But all too quickly he was leaning away from you, leaving that side of your body cold and empty. “You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to, won’t you?” James asked from somewhere further than on the bed as he began to strip off his clothes, not that you could see.

“Yes”, you verbally say rather than nodding your head, hand reaching out to touch one of them, smiling when Sirius’ lips nipped the tips of your fingers, nuzzling into your palm as you rested it against his cheek.

Remus also moved on the bed, climbing over your body to move his lips against yours, distracting you completely from the situation but then as James’ hands began trailing over your legs, parting them and giving him room did it dawn on you again that you were actually about to lose your virginity.

Remus and Sirius seemed to move away now leaving you and James in the middle of the bed. “Do you want to keep this on?” James asked, poking the material tied around your head.

Contemplating for a moment - even though all of this foreplay had been fun with the blindfold and it had helped with your anxiety, your virginity could only be taken once and you wanted to fully be in the moment so steadily, you removed the cloth from covering your eyes.

It took a moment of squinting your eyes to adjust properly to the light in the room that mostly came from the fire at the other end of the room. What you’d anticipated were regret and fear but as James gazed down at you with his soft brown, wide eyes, and glasses fixed on his face all you felt was safe in his arms.

Even as you caught sight of Remus and Sirius to the sides, their hands moving up and down their shafts as they chased their own highs watching the two of you, it didn’t feel embarrassing, it felt right. There was no one you trusted more in the world than these three and even in this vulnerable state, you wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

“Hi,” you said timidly up at him, a smile spreading across his handsome face in response. James lowered his body over yours, almost cocooning and moulding the two of you together and his natural body heat helped to keep you relaxed as his nose bumped yours.

“It’s just us, love”, he whispered against your lips before kissing you, tongue dancing with your own making you moan at the taste of him. Your legs moved on their own accord, wrapping around his hips, ankles locking together, almost pulling him closer until you felt his noticeable length graze your thigh.

Trying not to lose your cool, your hands landed on his shoulders, feeling the toned muscles beneath before cupping his jaw as he pulled back. James watched your face closely, wanting to see every emotion that you had as his hand disappeared between your bodies to align his cock with your cunt.

Similarly to Remus, James was very aware that this was your first time and was very aware that this could potentially hurt so he moved slowly, his tip gradually breaching your hole.

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open as you looked down to where your bodies were now joined. It was intense the further he moved, it wasn’t horrifically painful but still stung as you stretched to a size you’d definitely never had before. James stopped at one point, not fully penetrating in but just giving your body to adjust as he finally dipped his head to kiss your swollen lips, distracting you from the discomfort.

The Marauder waited for you to nod your head to continue moving and after a few more small thrusts, your cunt had accustomed to his size, even beginning to move your hips with his. His cock felt so incredibly deep inside of you, each fuck in and out was hitting every single spot that you craved to be touched.

James groaned at how tight you felt, almost suffocating his cock, it was unbelievably good, seeing how you looked underneath him, your eyes glazed, mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You were so lost in the emotions and pleasure that you couldn’t even speak and warn that you were about to cum but James could tell by the tightening of your cunt. “Cum for me sweetheart, fuck you feel so good”, James encouraged.

He held intense eye contact, mouths brushing each other but not fully kissing, just remaining close so you came hard once more, thighs squeezing his hips harshly.

“Wait, ahh-” you cry out, needing James to pause with how sensitive you were feeling and James had to hide his face into your neck from not cumming with how tightly your cunt was convulsing around his cock. It took a few minutes of deep breathing and James’ hands massaging over your body to calm enough before rolling your hips, signalling for James to continue.

As he began to thrust back into you, the messy-haired man sat back on his knees, pushing both of your legs up to your chest which was when Sirius and Remus moved back over to the bed and you were thankful for this, almost like they could read your mind as you were about to moan for them.

In this position, it gave Sirius the perfect opportunity to circle your clit with his fingers in time with James' thrusts. You were crying out again, throat beginning to feel raw with how much you’d been moaning but you also never wanted it to end, it just felt so good.

Remus casually sat next to you, his hand continuing to pump his impressively sized cock, and he smirked as he caught you looking at it with wide eyes, not understanding how that would ever fit in you.

You wanted desperately to kiss Remus but he simply held your jaw so that you had to watch him touching himself as he watched you getting fucked by his best friend.

James' moans increased in sound as his cock throbbed inside of you, desperately close to reaching his own climax.

“Is he making you feel good?” Remus asked, looking down your body at where Sirius was touching you.

“Yes, he feels so good, I think I’m going to cum again”, you admitted between moans, Sirius’ fingers moving with more pressure as he heard how close you were.

“Good, I want you to cum before Prongs does”, Remus’s dominant tone had you heating with even more arousal if that was even possible. His intense stare, the hold on your jaw, the guarantee of feeling safe, there was no way you weren’t going to cum that very moment.

Chanting ‘yes’ with each thrust, you came, eyes having to close to try and remain in control and this was all James needed to release his cum deep within your cunt, groaning needing at how fucking good you felt. You felt almost close to tears with the stimulation you’d experienced, your body reeling from the multiple orgasms but also aching from being licked, stroked and fucked, it was a little overwhelming now.

James eased his cock out of your hole causing you to wince slightly as the euphoric feelings began to fade away, you still felt good but needed a good rest. The brown-eyed boy smiled apologetically down at you, gently kissing your cheek before climbing off of the bed to retrieve his wand from his discarded trouser pockets.

Just as you were able to ask for a tissue to clean up in between your legs, James waved his wand and the mess that was a mixture of yours and his juices disappeared.

“Thank you”, your voice was quiet, thick with exhaustion as you dropped your head onto the bed. Sirius was soon crawling next to you, his body quickly wrapping around yours, causing you to turn on to your side, his face nuzzling into your neck.

What was going to happen now? Would they even want to still be your friend? Would you all wake up tomorrow and regret what had happened? You knew for sure that you didn’t regret anything only worried for the repercussions.

A flick to the tip of your nose had you glancing up at Remus as he too lay on the bed now, facing you and it then only registered that he and Sirius had cum whilst watching you being fucked by James but you’d been so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t noticed.

“Stop thinking so hard”, Remus whispered, stroking your cheek tenderly. “We’ll talk about this all tomorrow but you haven’t lost us, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up”. You took a deep breath, the tension melting away as you smiled at him before closing your eyes.

Tomorrow was a new day, a new start to whatever was going on between the four of you but one thing was certain, you’d need to speak to Lily about making some birth control potion soon.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ DO ANYTHING FOR YOU — how your boyfriends react to you getting assaulted at the pub

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish

warnings. f!reader, unwanted sexual advances, minor sexual assault, graphic violence, possessive/protective relationship, pre-established relationship, implied gaz/price, polyamory, mm, nsfw content, praise, body worship, oral

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

The smell of cheap beer and even cheaper perfume isn't usually your cup of tea, but then again, neither are pubs in general.

Yet, here you are, squished into a booth with your teammates -- your family, really.

They had insisted that you all go out tonight, something about a celebration for the week off. You just saw it as an excuse to get drunk and hope for a lay, at least, for those not cuffed.

That being said, being single was becoming rarer and rarer for your crew.

"C'mon, cap," the man beside you groans with an eyeroll, his thick arm coming around to rest on the top of the booth behind your head. Slick bastard. "We ain't gonna tease you for it," he insists.

You shoot a knowing glare to your side, and you know that he sees it, cause his mouth quirks in the corners and his dimple shows. Just slightly.

"You're a shitty liar, Johnny," the man to your right huffs with an eyeroll. His skull balaclava is pushed up the base of his nose, showing just a hint of his stubble and scars.

The same stubble and scars that you've felt against your skin too many times to count.

"Ya love me," Soap shrugs with a cheeky grin, his arm moving closer to rest at the nape of your neck. The man's always been a furnace, no matter where you were, or the climate. Hell, when you guys had been stationed in mid-winter Russia for a bit, you and Ghost had clung to him like fucking koalas.

"And look where that's gotten me," Ghost responds with a mutter, gaze harsh with a teasing glint.

"Just because you kids got lucky doesn't mean I will," Price says with a sigh, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. "I've been out of the scene for... what, six years? More?"

You quickly check to see if Gaz is still at the bar grabbing you all another round, and when you do, he catches your eye. He quickly waves you over, head motioning towards the drinks at the bar. You get the message immediately.

"You guys have your boy talk," you tease, scooting past Soap where he sits, his large frame brushing against your ass and back no matter how hard you try to avoid him. "I'm gonna go help the man of the hour with the drinks."

Soap's hand rests at your hip as you finally escape the narrow confines of the booth, and you shoot him a chastising glare. He retorts with a smug little grin. Grabbing you by your nape, he scoops you in for a quick, chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

"I'm not leaving," you say on an amused huff, to which Ghost gives you a softened look.

"Fuckin' co-dependent, the both of you," he says gruffly, but the love and adoration is a nice undertone. One you and Soap have grown to notice after months of practice.

With one more quick kiss to your lips, Soap lets you go, the sound of your booth quickly fading away as soon as you fall into the crowds of people.

Considering that it's a Friday night, the place's packed -- you guys had been lucky to score a booth.

Making your way to Gaz, spotting his head of hair, you find yourself pulled into the arms of a stranger. Confused, and head slightly light and cotton-filled due to the rounds you'd had before, you try and wrestle out of the man's grip.

He's strong, however, and you had not dressed for any type of combat. Nor were you in the right state of mind for it.

"Excuse me," you say, voice straining to remain calm and polite. "Could you please let me go?"

The man chuckles, and the sound grates on your skin the way that a snake would slither down your spine. "Love, you were practically beggin' for some attention," he breathes into your ear, breath warm and liquor-laced. "Don't go actin' a prude now."

You shove against his grip, eyes squeezing tight when his hand goes up to fondle at your breasts. He's rough, entirely disgusting about it, and you feel bile rising in your throat.

Heels. You were wearing heels. While the man is distracted with his groping, you raise your right foot, and then slam it down on his. Luckily, the guy was wearing some thin sneakers that allowed for the harsh pain that followed.

"Fuck!" The man seethes, hand moving away from your tits to instead cradle his foot as he hops on his left leg. "Fuckin' skank, you're gonna --"

The man stills, words stopping short when a large, gloved hand wraps around his neck from behind. "Gonna what? Finish your sentence."

Ghost stands behind the man, voice loud in the suddenly hushed pub, even when he grinds the words out by the man's ear.

You feel the familiar and comforting frame of Soap as he gently pulls you into his chest, body tensed and ready for bloodshed, yet soft as he cradles the back of your head and plants a soft kiss to your hair.

"Go ahead. You were so ready to yell at her, so do it. Speak up," Ghost taunts, his voice cold and devoid of the warmth that it had mere minutes ago. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Whimpering, the man instead begs for forgiveness. Spineless piece of shit. He blabbers, tears rolling down his cheeks as Ghost intimidates him, all while Soap holds you with tender touches and comfort.

"We got him," Price's voice cuts through the man's blubbering, his tone that of a Captain who was all too used to cleaning after his subordinates' messes.

"Don't do anything we woul'n't," Soap says, his voice hinting at humour. It allows a soft, albeit small, smile to creep onto your face.

Gaz shoots him his own cheeky look in return.

You doubted that the man would see the light of day again. Either because of a loss of eyes, or a loss of heartbeats.

Price and Gaz lead him out of the pub, the door ringing shut behind them. The crowd instantly turns to keep to themselves, cheering and conversation returning at full volume.

"Princess," Ghost is quick to stand in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world as he holds your face in his hands, gaze examining. Whatever he sees makes him relax a bit, his gaze flitting up to Soap to check over him too. He was always the most protective one -- the bodyguard in your relationship.

It never failed to get you going, and even after the event that had happened, you find that that fact is still accurate.

"'M okay," you say, gripping Ghost's wrists softly and bringing them off of your face with a tentative smile. "He's gone. 'M safe."

Soap's head moves to nuzzle into the side of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin where you stand. You tilt your head slightly to allow for easier access, and he accepts the offer gladly.

"Home?" Soap asks, voice muffled by your heated skin as he continues to place lovebites all over your neck, shoulder and collarbone.

Ghost gives one sharp nod, before grabbing your hand and gently pulling you along to the front door. Soap reluctantly moves away from your skin, his arm sliding around your waist as the three of you make your way out into the crisp night air.

It bites at your warm skin, allowing you to sober up just the slightest bit. Enough for you to realise how safe you felt between your two men -- how comfortable and protected.

Luckily, the bar you all frequented was a mere ten minute walk from your apartment, so the three of you managed to make it through the front door in no time.

"Lemme get your heels." Soap is quick to kneel as he delicately unfastens the buckle around your ankle, taking them off with the same amount of care one might use in heart surgery. He presses a kiss to your inner ankle, and then trails his mouth to the tops of your thighs.

Ghost's chest presses against your back, his gloved hands tracing along your bare forearms, then over your shoulders with light caresses. Your eyelids flicker at the attention from both of your lovers, the feeling unlike anything else in the world.

He makes quick, yet cautious, work of unzipping your dress, letting it pool to the ground as they both let out small groans at your undergarments.

Their favourite lingerie adorned your body, and what were they but weak, whipped men?

"Let us take care of you," Ghost grunts, nose brushing against the skin behind your ear. "Worship you, Princess."

You let out a breathy sigh at that, nodding almost immediately. You weren't sure if you could deny either of them anything when they treated you like you were something precious. Like they adored you with everything you had.

They both guide you to your bed, their hands never wandering far from your body as they gently lay you back on the sheets.

"Fuckin' beauty," Soap groans, groping and fondling your thighs like a man who'd never get to feel them again. His eyes meet yours, his ocean-blue darkened with lust and need. "Prettiest fuckin' thing I ever saw, Baby."

Your head falls back, lips opening in a gasp as he lowers his head to kiss against your inner thighs, lips brushing your sensitive skin. He's meticulous about it, savouring the experience.

"Eyes on me," that familiar, deep, dominant voice calls to you. You open your eyes, Ghost pulling off his black compression shirt with one hand, all while his dark gaze tracks every movement you make. It's taunting, making you delirious with lust and want and desire.

"She's so fuckin' wet for you, Si," Soap says on a deep moan, moving your lacy panties to the side to inspect your pussy. His finger trails lightly over it, a teasing touch, that has you clenching despite yourself.

Ghost's heated gaze directs to the man between your legs, appraising. "Tell me what she tastes like," he says, and Soap groans deep in his chest from those words alone. "If you're both good, I'll taste it from your mouth."

Without another thought, Soap dives in, enthusiastic and desperate. You whimper, whining at the sudden attention to your clit and pussy. He's rough about it, not nearly as careful as he had been mere seconds ago. He takes, and takes, so relentless in his motions that you grind against his face, his hands gripping onto your thighs.

Ghost's hand lands in his hair, pushing him in further to your core. You and Soap both let out identical moans at the action, Ghost's gaze focused on the both of you.

"You two," Ghost says, eyes encompassed nearly fully by his iris. "Mine. My fuckin' pets."

"Please," you moan out, hips frantic where they ache for more pleasure. "Fuck, Si, Johnny, feels too good, fuck."

"Yeah?" Simon tilts his head, only slightly mocking. "Like all that attention? He's sloppy, ain't he?"

You nod incoherently, Johnny's relentless attack at your clit and hole leaving you entirely too wound up. Your moans come out louder, needier, raspier, until you're falling apart, falling off of that cliff of pleasure that you had climbed.

"Good, such a pretty pet," Simon's hand pets at your hair, tone comforting and affectionate. Prideful. "Our good girl, huh?"

Johnny finally -- finally -- moves off of your pussy, entire bottom half of his face glistening with your essence. His gaze is completely lust-drunk, hazy in a way that mirrored your own experession.

"Si," is all he says, grabbing the taller man by the scruff of his neck and pulling him into a devouring kiss. You can visibly see their tongues fucking each others' mouths, passionate and wanton. When they pull apart, they both direct their attention to you.

"Ready, Princess?"

a/n. first ever work in this fandom and the first smut i've written in nearly a year! hopefully this isn't completely awful. if you enjoyed, pls pls pls reblog, follow, like, comment, or whatevs!!!! tytyty <3

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

Part Two Part Three

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee. He eyed you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check that you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[charliemwrites]

Before charmed slasher Simon revealed his true identity, what were movie nights like? I’d kill for a lil section on them almost cuddling on the couch while watching a scary movie and Simon absolutely adoring when you jump and scooch closer to him on instinct 🥹🥹 please charlie I beg you 😭

*Checks notes, chats with The Council* Yeah okay... we can do that.

CW for a bit of somnophilia and Simon being a creep!!

You open the door looking like some kind of pastry with too-big eyes. Soft, cream-colored pair of joggers and a thin pink jumper, so fuzzy he just knows he'll find fluff on him after this. You look so cozy and sweet; he wants to put a pretty belled collar on you. Maybe watch you curl up in a nest of blankets, safe behind the bars of a cage.

But maybe not, he muses as you chirp a greeting, taking his hand to tug him into your apartment. A lamb inviting a wolf to the pen. He likes you best like this, all loose limbed and free to roam. Thinks maybe you'd lose some of that mischievous glint if he locked you up.

The collar though... he'd like to hear it ring as you bounce around him.

"I am the bestest friend ever," you declare, squeezing calloused fingers so much bigger and crueler and blood-stained than your own. "You know why?"

He arches an eyebrow. Your impish smile widens with delight. "Why's that, luv?"

"Well, you know that one place you wanted last week, but they were closed?"

He grunts and nods. Last week was your choice to pick the movie, which mean he was in charge of dinner.

"Well... they're still closed for repairs but! I talked to the owner, who talked to his mum, and she gave me the recipe for that dish you like. So guess what I did!"

He stares at you for a moment, teeth aching his jaw with the urge to sink them into soft flesh. Mark you as his. How the hell are you real? How the hell are you here?

When he's silent a beat to long, you click your tongue.

"You're no fun - I tried to make it," you explain.

Only then does he become aware of the scent in your apartment. Garlic and red meat and savory spices. His mouth fills with saliva as he focuses his attention on you again.

"Smells great, luv," he says, flicking the corner of his mouth up.

You beam. "Hopefully it's good! I tried it first and it seems alright, but I'm not sure it's as good as the restaurant."

It's almost not a conscious thought to snap his arm out and scoop you up, dragging you in against his chest. You yelp initially, but it devolves into a little giggle as you flatten your palms against his chest.

"Thank you, luv."

Every time he comes into your home, it's a struggle not to keep you. Not to take this place for himself, keep you for his own among all your pretty, soft things. Blood washes out; he'd show you how.

"Rileyyyy!" you mock-whine, pushing at him. "C'mon, before it gets cold."

He wants to make a comment about eating you. Simon thinks he could survive a winter on your taste alone. Instead he lets you on your feet, eases his snake-like grip around your waist. You cast him one last, warm look and skip off to the kitchen to fill bowls with food.

"So what movie are we watching?" you call.

"You ever seen Sinister?" he asks.

You make an annoyed noise. "You know I haven't!"

"Well, that's what we're watching."

You appear with a full, steaming bowl and a beer, shoo him to the couch with a little kick to his ankles. "Get it set up while I finish serving."

"Bossy thing," he tuts, voice a little too low for teasing.

The bridge of your nose darkens with a flush, but you make a cheeky little face in return. "Someone's gotta keep you in line!"

You're gone before you can hear the rumble in his chest. Some days he could swear you know what you're doing; that you know just what sort of animal you're poking at. That you're seeing just how much you can prod before he springs.

He tries not to imagine that cheeky, smug little smirk going all wet-eyed and desperate with lust. Sits to hide the bulge forming in his pants and sets up the movie.

You saunter out with your own, less-filled bowl and a glass of white wine. Take one look at the screen and shoot him an exasperated look.

"I should have known," you complain.

"Literally called Sinister, luv."

"Yeah, I know," you lament.

As soon as the movie starts you're curling into his side, eyes huge. Meal forgotten in your lap.

"Oh, no," you whisper, tilting your face to give him a pleading look. "I can't eat like this!"

"Eat quick, luv. You'll have a break after this first part.”

You do as you’re told; take a big sip of wine when you’re done - just in time for the first jumpscare. You save the wine but quickly put it away, shrinking down against the cushions.

“You’re mean, awful, terrible,” you mumble, fumbling a blanket off the back of the couch.

“‘S not very nice,” he snorts, licking his fork clean. You’d made it quite well for a first time. Not necessarily as good as the restaurant’s but better for you having made it special for him.

“You’re not very nice,” you reply, going stiff with fear as the “home movies” start playing. “No no no, fuck all of that.”

As soon as he’s set his bowl aside, you’re clinging in his arm. Bicep squished against your breasts, little fingers curling hard into flesh. He hopes you’ll leave cute little bruises. Your eyes are huge trained on the tv, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Holy shit,” you squeak, hiding your face.

Chuckling, he nudges at you. “Uh uh, no hiding. C’mon, I’m right here.”

You whimper and snuggle in even closer, wedged up against his ribs, leaning into him. Nearly climb into his lap when the creature starts moving on the screen, hands flapping.

“Fuuuuuck that,” you whine, “he’s so fucked oh my god.”

Simon chuckles, setting his other hand on your thigh. Indulges in stroking his thumb over the inseam of your joggers. You barely even seem to notice, engrossed in fear.

By the end, you’re fanning yourself of the panic, shooting him a look that’s meant to be accusing but mostly just owlish.

“You have to make it up to me,” you declare.

Oh, he could think of a dozen ways to do that.

“Yeah?” he rumbles. “What do you need?”

“We’re watching something else. My pick this time.” You pause, shoot him a worried look. “Can you stay for another?”

He smirks. “Couldn’t kick me out if you tried, luv.”

You really couldn’t. Because you’re adorable when you’re scared. Look like something to ruin. But the aftermath is almost better. When your body melts into warmth and (false) safety. The anxiety drains away, leaving you sleepy and pliable. You’ll fall asleep within the hour.

And you do. Clue playing (subtitles on) you’re snoozing against his shoulder before long. He waits until the movie ends for plausible deniability, then takes you to bed. You hardly stir, save to press your nose against his collar with a little hum.

He eases you out of your joggers, eyes flickering at the pretty lace clinging to your hips. Tiny little bows at the sides.

Snuffs out the bedside lamp and fishes his fully-hard cock from his pants. He teases his free hand along your inner thigh, over the lace front of your panties. Scrapes his nail a bit where your clit is hidden. Nearly purrs when you moan softly, wiggling on the mattress to open your thighs wider, still out cold.

Fucks his other hand vicious and brutal, relishing the slight dry pain. Fast and hard, already worked up from having you trembling against him for over an hour. It doesn’t take long to fall over that edge, the memory of your squeaks and cries finishing him off.

He covers the sensitive, angry tip as he cums, no matter how much he wants to paint you with his spend. He takes a deep breath as the pleasure courses through him, twitching through aftershocks. Cracks his neck as he peeks your peaceful expression.

Can’t help himself. Smears his wet thumb over the front of your panties. Nothing you’ll notice in the morning, but you’ll spend all night with him marking your cunt. Maybe even all day tomorrow.

He should go.

Ends up gently, carefully, glossing your bitten bottom lip with a drop of cum as well. Gets rock hard all over again when your tongue flicks out at the sensation, tasting. Still unconscious. You roll over with a sleepy sigh and curl up.

Simon pulls the blankets over you and returns to the living room to clean up from dinner. He’s not yet willing to slink back to his den.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[wishful-sinful-9]

WANNA BE YOUR DOG

Chapter One

Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader

Chapters | Masterlist

Winter already has its icy grip on the world outside, but in this bar, it’s as hot as the equator.

There wasn’t a shot in hell you would’ve picked this job - bartending in a sketchy underground cage-fighting joint - if it weren't for sheer desperation. Sweaty bodies packed tightly together. Impatient men demanding service everywhere you turn. Grunts and shouts and wails of pain from the cage.

When the fighting was over, the majority of patrons stumbling out the door, you could finally breathe. Wipe down the bartop, wipe away the night.

“Hey, bub, can I get a beer?”

The Wolverine heaves his weary body on a barstool and makes his usual request - the bar owners’ main source of income, the undefeatable beast of a man got a drink free after striking every opponent down with a few swings of his fist. The body hit the floor; another bet was won.

“Here you go.” You avoid his gaze as you pass him the bottle. He grunts his thanks.

A few months ago, you lost your previous job, though fortunately you had a roommate to cover your half of the rent until you found another. Unfortunately, said roommate had already planned on moving out around that same time. Therefore this sad little nightly routine was the only means of avoiding homelessness. What would your parents think, if they were to see you in this dingy, overtly illegal, shithole of a bar? You smile slightly at the thought as you dry off a glass.

Sensing eyes on you, you glance up to meet the Wolverine’s dark gaze, expressionlessly trained on you. Heat creeps into your cheeks and you turn away to pick up another glass.

–

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You slam your car door shut behind you, aborting your fruitless attempts to start it. You wrap your fleece-lined jacket tightly around yourself as you glare at the crappy old piece of metal and go over your options. Option, singular. Walk down a pitch-black icy road. You cuss again and ram a boot into the door.

“You alright there?” A gruff voice from behind startles you.

Turning around, you’re met with the looming presence of the cage fighter, donning a motorcycle jacket, the high collar and angular shoulders making him look even more intimidating. He looks at you with a raised brow.

“Er - well - no, not really,” you stammer out, “my car won’t start.”

“Oh.”

He remains several feet away from you, as if approaching a wild animal. You scuff the toe of your shoe in the gravel like a shy schoolgirl. “Yeah. Um…”

“Would you like a ride?”

He’s offering you a ride.

You shouldn’t. This is a dangerous man; a fighter for a living. And beyond that, you had reason to suspect he might not be just a man. You were sceptical of the idea of mutants, but after watching him take many a vicious blow and emerging without so much as a scrape, you had good reason to believe you were in the presence of one. So you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t get into the scary guy’s car. Even if your teeth were chattering and your toes numb in your boots. You shouldn’t.

If your parents would be terrified at the sight of your workplace, they’d faint at the sight of you meekly accepting the Wolverine’s offer.

You put all associations of kidnappers with white vans out of your head as you follow him to his. You jam your hands deep into your pockets and clench your jaw tight to prevent the audible chattering. Once in the passenger seat, you breathe a small sigh of relief when the first thing he does after switching on the ignition is turn the heater all the way up.

“Put your hands on it so they can warm up.” He grumbles. You oblige. “Why don’t you have gloves on?”

“I think I left them in my car,” you reply, feeling somewhat foolish. You wonder if making other people feel about two inches tall was a hobby of his or an unconscious habit.

He says nothing. He doesn’t turn the radio on. His eyes remain trained on the road ahead. You glance at him once or twice, but his expression is blank and his mouth is clamped shut. Behind you, you are aware of the narrow bed and minimalistic living set up that brings to you a wave of affection for your one-storey rental that has caused you so much grief these past few months. You had always assumed cage fighting must be pure sport to him, and that there was some daytime job he worked to support himself, but now you're beginning to wonder if his sole income is the bets placed on his fists.

He parks a little way down the opposite side of the road as there are cars in front of your house. You pause with your hand on the door handle, watching him scan the area before grunting, “Iʼll walk you in.”

You fumble with the latch on your gate, letting your hair sweep over your face to disguise your rosy cheeks when he leans over you to do it himself. Taking extra care not to slip on your doorsteps and make an even bigger fool of yourself, you jiggle your key into the lock and turn to face…you don’t know his real name. Oh god.

“Thank you so, so much…”

“Logan.”

“Yes! Logan. Thank you Logan.” You give him an awkward smile as he nods his head, again, expressionless.

He grunts a humble “no problem,” and turns to walk away as you step halfway over the threshold. Your mind returns to his van. The sorry little bed that you’re quite frankly surprised can support his broad stature. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you blurt out: “Wait! I have a spare room?”

He halts, caught off guard. “What?”

“If you wanted to stay the night,” you cringe at the words as you say them, “since you went through the trouble of taking me home. You're welcome to. If you want.”

The silence is deafening. He blinks at you and the sudden urge to shoot yourself in the head is overwhelming. Oh my god, what am I think-

“Alright. If it’s okay.”

–

Naturally, he’d gone to fetch a change of clothes and a toothbrush, and you took the few minutes to shove stray underwear in your laundry basket, bin the empty bottle of wine on your kitchen counter, and clear away the pile of well-loved makeup products cluttering the bathroom sink. You mentally cursed yourself for living like the cover of the Stereotypical Sad Single Female magazine.

A new wave of embarrassment washed over you when you showed him to your roommate’s old room, the bed still made in the comically girly pink floral sheets she had left behind. “Very feminine.” he’d commented.

When you’d hastily excused yourself to bed, you let out a long, self-loathing groan into your pillow.

–

It’s six-thirty in the morning, a blasphemous hour to be awake at, and Logan is trying to be quiet on the other side of the wall, in spite of his ridiculously heavy footsteps. You lie awake as he shuffles to the bathroom, wait until the shower is on, then haul yourself out of bed because part of you worries he'll sneak out like a guilty one-night stand without you getting the chance to atleast make him coffee.

By the time he’s emerged, dressed, from the bathroom you've managed to stick some bacon in a pan and made a pot of coffee. He seems taken aback, and it makes you far more comfortable to know that there's one emotion that can display itself on his stoic face: surprise.

“Sorry if I woke you up.” He glances at you as you set his plate on the table.

“It’s fine,” you reply, sitting opposite. Now that the Wolverine is sat at your dainty kitchen table, he seems less like a man-bashing beast and more like a stray dog you've ushered into your home. Thoughtfully, you begin to eat, suddenly feeling far more able to look at him directly. “Can I ask you something?”

He stops, looking at you slowly. “Ask me what?”

Now or never. You inhale deeply and softly say, “How come you never have a single bruise to show for those beatings you take?”

A pause. He chews his bacon and swallows it carefully, analysing your face.

“Do you really want to know?” his voice is low and eyes narrow. You nod. With a sigh, he sets down his cutlery and lifts a fist - the swift sound of sharp metal being unsheathed cuts through the domestic morning quiet as three knife-like claws protrude from his knuckles. Your eyes widen and your knife and fork clatter onto your plate.

“You’re a-”

“This metal runs through me. I think it’s attached to my skeleton.” He explains, rotating his fist so you can better gawk at the claws. “I can also heal extremely fast. There’s other things too, like my sense of smell being advanced…”

“Like a wolverine,” you say, “apt name.”

He grunts and you absent-mindedly lift a finger to touch the deadly metal, “They’re sharp.” he snaps, retracting them. You sit back quickly. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Just didn't want you to…”

“It’s okay. Ahem…”

You don’t dare ask another question despite the many that were whirring in your mind, feeling that the tension has risen once more surrounding the subject. The two of you eat, in silence again.

Once he has his shoes and jacket on, you show him to the door. In spite of the information revealed at the table, somehow his presence makes you a little less nervous than it did the previous night. He falters in the threshold, turning to you.

“Thanks, for letting me stay and everything,” he says. “You didn’t have to.”

You smile lightly, “It’s no problem, really. Thank you for the ride home.”

He nods, “See you, then.”

“See you, Logan.”

You watch him from the window in your door as he crosses the street, lighting up a cigar. If your parents could see you now.

a/n: so sorry for this shaky writing 😭 this is my first time working on a series and I suckkk at starting things so sorry if this falls a little flat - might go back and re-edit when I'm not so tired but oh well! if you'd like to be tagged in the next part please let me know :))

@fallout-girl219 @viviannagiorgini

[mawrmyy]

lucky

Joel Miller x f!reader

warnings:

18+ !!! minors dni !!!

smut, unprotected piv (wrap it up y'all!!), pet names (darling, baby, angel, etc), infidelity but not really (it'll make sense if you read it i promise) oral f! and m!receiving, driving over speed limits, alcohol consumption, dirty bathroom floors. lmk if i missed anything :)

It’s late, nearly midnight. You could be at home now, resting after a long day at work. The weekend welcomes you with open arms, and it smells like laundry detergent and fresh-brewed coffee.

The floor of the bar is sticky. You’re sure every drink that’s been spilled on the linoleum floor has a story of its own, sticking to the soles of your shoes, begging you to listen.

You ignore it, making your way towards the counter, calculating how to get as much alcohol in your system as fast as possible. Whiskey, please, you tell the bartender, and he obliges.

Now, with a cold glass cup in your hand, you finally sit down on a bar stool and allow your eyes to lazily scan your surroundings. A group of four, seemingly in their early twenties, sit at a table to your left, talking and laughing loudly. In front of you sits an overweight man with a long white beard, downing what you assume is at least his seventh glass of beer. He notices you looking and gives you a glance that practically yells fuck you looking at? You take that as your sign to look away, and your eyes continue scanning the room.

That’s when you see him, across the bar. He’s already looking at you, eyes dark and hooded. He’s handsome, probably around his late 40s, with graying hair and a short scruffy beard. You feel your cheeks heat up from the intensity of his gaze, and you look back down to the glass cup between your warm palms. 

When you look back to meet his eyes once again, you see he’s taking a swig of his drink before getting up. For a split second your heart drops, assuming he’s leaving, but instead, he starts making his way across the sticky floors, directly towards you. You swallow your anxiety, as well as another sip of whiskey, before setting the cup down with a soft thud. You watch him walk, your heartbeat quickening with every step he takes. Before you know it, he’s sitting on the stool beside you, and your heart is just about to leap out of your chest. He’s looking at you, studying your face carefully, gauging your reaction before he speaks. 

“Hi,” He says sheepishly, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “I’m Joel.” He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, chuckling quietly at the awkwardness of it all.

“Hi Joel,” You say, keeping eye contact and smiling at him warmly. You tell him your name, and he smiles back, a hearty lopsided grin that you can’t help but want to kiss.

“Saw you from across the bar,” Joel tells you. “‘S a nice dress. Suits you,” He says, signaling to the tight little black dress you decided to wear this evening. You blush at his words.

The two of you make conversation, talking for over an hour about how uncharacteristically warm it’s been this winter, and Quentin Tarantino’s filmography, and why the hell are there so many shots of feet?! 

He asks you if you have a boyfriend, and his eyes follow yours as you look to the thin golden ring sitting pretty on your finger. Joel swallows, but doesn’t mention it again.

It’s nearly 1 am when you ask him do you dance, Joel? His large hand is in yours as you lead him to the makeshift dance floor near the billiard table. There are two other couples there, swaying to a song you can't quite make out the words to.

You wrap your arms around Joel, threading your fingers and resting them at the nape of his neck. He’s looking down at you, the palm of his left hand running down from your rib to your hip, where it stays. He places his right hand on your other hip and pulls you closer, still never breaking eye contact. The two of you stay like that for a while, hips rocking slowly to the music blasting out of the cheap bar speakers. 

It’s maybe two songs in before Joel’s hands start getting impatient, grazing the small of your back and palming at your ass. Normally, you’d be embarrassed letting a stranger feel you up in public, but you know nobody’s looking, each and every person at the bar stuck in their own little world. You look up at Joel through your lashes, taking in his sharp, crooked nose and rugged features. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, the way he looks at you. Pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. He’s breathing heavily, you can feel his shoulders rising and falling beneath your forearms. It’s so intense, you’re sure that if he isn't inside you within the next minute you might explode.

You let out a soft whimper of his name, and he groans.

“Darlin’,” He says in a pained voice. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You smirk at that, placing your hands on his chest, tugging at the collar of his flannel. You stand on your toes and lean in so that your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you whisper a soft–

“Want you, Joel,” before turning away from him and walking towards the bar bathroom. You’re reaching for the door handle when you hear his heavy footsteps following close behind you, and you smirk to yourself. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

Joel’s behind you in an instant, pushing you into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. His mouth meets yours, and it's all teeth and tongue and whiskey and mint. His hands, so big and warm wrapped around your ribs, guide you backwards until your back hits the stiff wooden door.

He’s desperate, hungry. His tongue licks into you, greedily swallowing every moan and sigh you’re willing to give him.

Suddenly Joel is sinking to his knees, paying no mind to the dirty bathroom floor or to the way his bones crack loudly as he crouches. He looks up at you with wide eyes, hands running up your thighs, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, pulling it up slightly. Your cheeks flush crimson, knowing full well how wet you are for him. Joel knows it too, smirking as he sees the damp spot on your lacy white panties. His fingers graze your clothed folds softly, teasing you. He leans in to press a feather-light kiss on your inner thigh, and you let out a soft whimper. 

“Please, Joel,” You say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Need you so bad. Been wanting you all night,” you add, and that seems to do it. He groans and pulls your panties down to your ankles, licking a long stripe up your glistening cunt. The two of you moan in unison, Joel’s hand holding up your thigh to get a better angle. 

“Fuck darlin’,” He groans into you, words slurring. “Such a pretty pussy. You this wet jus’ f’r me?”

“Fu-yes, Joel, just for you,” You tell him honestly. 

He’s ruthless, tongue sliding from your pussy to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. Your head falls back against the door, the flickering lights above you blurring into stars as you feel your orgasm getting close.

“Joel, m’gon- oh,” you tell him. He keeps up his pace, eyes never leaving your face, the curve of your jaw, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“I know, angel,” He tells you. “Let go f’me, baby. You can do it.”

You’re a wreck. It's only been a couple of minutes, and you’re already close to coming undone on Joel’s tongue. His thick fingers prod at your pussy, slipping in easily. You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about how wet you are for him or how close you are to coming when he’s hitting all the right spots. He hasn't stopped looking at you, not since he approached you at the bar a few hours ago. His eyes are glossy, as if drunk on the taste of you. He’s so handsome.

You come like that, the only word on the tip of your tongue is Joel, Joel, Joel. You chant his name like a prayer as you come down from your high, his tongue still on you, working you through your orgasm. 

You stay like that for a minute, Joel still on his knees in front of you as you catch your breath. You pull him up by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, tasting the tangy taste of yourself lingering on his lips. You’re both smiling into the kiss, and you only break apart to whisper to him–

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

He lets out an animalistic groan, and you reach down to palm the bulge in his jeans. You let out a soft gasp as he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Not yet, baby,” He tells you. “Wanna do this properly. Take you home and fuck you in my bed, treat you real good.” You can’t help but moan at his sweet filthy words. 

Joel unlocks the bathroom door and leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back. He guides you to his car and opens the car door for you, acting like a real gentleman as if he didn’t just make you come all over his face in a public restroom. 

His hand is on your thigh before he even starts the engine, and you can feel yourself getting needy again. He says it’s a twenty minute drive to his house, but you get impatient halfway through. You’re at a red light when your hand wanders to find the outline of his cock, still half-hard beneath rough denim. His head snaps to look at you, eyes immediately going dark. You look at him with faux innocence as your fingers slowly unbutton and unzip his jeans. You cup the bulge over his maroon boxers, and he lets out a soft groan. 

“Let me make you feel good, Joel,” You say, your hand still massaging his cock as it grows harder beneath your palm.

“Baby–” The car behind you honks as the light turns green, and Joel steps on the gas pedal. “Fuck, okay angel. Make me feel good.” And you oblige, pulling the elastic of his boxers down, freeing his dick. You feel your mouth watering as you hold it in your hand, long and thick and so fucking hard. You run your hand up and down the shaft a few times, testing the waters. Joel moans, and you sink down to lick him, base to tip, tasting his salty precum on the tip of your tongue. Joel places his hand on the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he lets out soft noises from the back of his throat. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, savoring the warm heavy weight of him on your tongue.

Joel’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel, his grip tightening around it as your head bobs up and down on his length. He’s grumbling and groaning, incoherent words leaving his lips as he drives over the speed limit, needing to be inside of you, desperate to fuck you into the sheets of his bed. 

The two of you spend a few more minutes like that, your tongue swirling around the head of his dick, him muttering about your perfect fuckin’ throat, so tight for him, tugging tightly at the roots of your hair. Then he’s pulling into a driveway, shifting gears and parking as you slowly release his cock from between your plush lips. You look up at him with wide doe eyes, your thumb wiping your spit from the corner of your mouth, never breaking eye contact. Joel lets out a guttural grunt before getting out of the truck. He walks around to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his as you walk towards the door of his house. 

Joel pushes you against the door and kisses you. It’s gentle, a sharp contrast to the feeling of his fingers tugging at your hair mere moments ago. He reaches around you, unlocking the door and leading you inside. 

It’s warm inside the house. Joel walks into the kitchen, and you hear the opening and closing of cupboards and the sound of glass on marble. He walks out a minute later, holding a glass of water in each hand. You accept it gratefully.

You take a small sip and place the cup on the table near you. Joel’s eyes never leave yours as he shakes his head and swallows his own water. 

“Drink up, baby,” He tells you, handing you your cup once again. “Gotta stay hydrated, yeah?” You roll your eyes playfully but oblige, downing the rest of the water, feeling it wetting your throat. You only set it down again once the glass is completely empty, before taking a small step forward and wrapping your arms around Joel, kissing him deeply. His hand comes up to cradle the side of your head, thumb resting on your cheek as he deepens the kiss, pulling your chest to his so you’re standing impossibly close to each other, heart to heart. You moan into his mouth and he swallows the sweet sound. 

“Joel,” You mumble. “Need you to fuck me. Now,” He hums at your words, lips moving from your lips to place messy kisses down your throat. 

“Fuck, I will angel,” He tells you. “G’na fuck you in my bed, fuck you till y’r so full of me. Gonna ruin that little husband of yours for ya’. Be the only one to make you feel this good.” You throw your head back and moan, and Joel takes the opportunity to kiss and bite every pulse point and every vein. 

You let out a sound between a gasp and a squeal as you feel your feet being lifted from the ground, Joel’s hands cupping your ass as he carries you to his room and sets you in the middle of the bed. The soft chuckle you let out quickly turns into a moan as he pulls the collar of your dress down, mouth latching on to your bare nipples, licking and sucking at the skin. Your hands find his hair and you tug lightly at the roots, needing more, more, more. The sounds he lets out vibrate against your skin, sending tingles up the length of your spine. Joel’s mouth goes lower, kissing down the valley of your breasts and at the soft skin of your tummy, hands pulling your panties down for the second time tonight. He pulls back to luck at your cunt, glistening under the yellow lights of his room, and he lets out a pained grunt.

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” He says, fingertips tracing your outer thighs gently. You blush, suddenly embarrassed to be so bare for him. He stands up, peeling off his shirt to reveal his broad chest. He moves to unbutton his pants, but you sit up on the edge of the bed to stop him.

“Wanna do it,” The words slur out of your mouth, and you can feel Joel’s breathing getting heavier. His hand moves to your face, thumb caressing your cheek as your fingers work the button through the hole and pull the zipper down. The denim pools around his thighs, and he steps out of it, kicking it back to a distant corner of the room. He’s left only in his boxers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter at the sight of the outline of his dick against the fabric. You pull his boxers down, and this time really look. You’ve already felt him in your hand and your mouth, but in the darkness of the car you weren't able to really see him. He’s huge, thick with a slight curve to the left and neatly trimmed. God, this man. You feel more slick pooling between your thighs as you stroke him slowly. Joel groans and leans down to kiss you, pushing you backwards to lay on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He’s on his knees above you, one hand holding his cock while the other spreads your thighs open. His fingers move to your cunt, drawing small circles on your clit while you writhe beneath him at the feeling. He stops suddenly, bringing his hand to his lips to taste you. His eyes are on you as he licks the sweet taste of you off his thick fingers. You moan at the sight, and he hums at the flavor. 

“Want you inside me Joel, please,” You tell him, brain too foggy to filter any words. Joel smirks slightly, and you admire the soft rise of the corner of his mouth, the almost invisible crinkle in his nose. Joel moves to slide the head of his cock up and down your pussy, the two of you moaning in unison at the sudden stimulation. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” He says. “‘S this all for me, baby?” You nod your head furiously at the question, and Joel chuckles. “Or are you thinkin’ ‘bout that husband of yours? Wish he was fucking you instead ‘f me?” You shake your head from side to side, needing to feel him inside you. But Joel doesn't let up. “Say it,” He says. “Who makes you feel this good, angel?” You could cry out of frustration.

“You, Joel,” You nearly scream. “Only you. No one else. M’yours,” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips.

He mutters a soft Damn right before pushing into you. Your head falls deeper into the pillow at the painfully sweet stretch, your velvety walls adjusting to his length as he bottoms out. Your ears buzz, drowning out your obscene moans. Your brain is mush, the only coherent thought being Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s moving now, deep thrusts in and out of you, mumbling about your perfect cunt and how you feel so good around him, such a pretty girl, God you’re so fucking tight . He leans down, taking your lips in his and kissing you hungrily. Moans fall from your tongue onto his, mixing into a pretty melody, a song only the two of you know how to sing. 

“Gonna come,” You tell him. Joel’s pace becomes sloppier but his thrusts never cease, hitting spots inside you that make you see stars behind closed eyes. His lips are on your neck again, leaving marks as if they’re promises that you’re his. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass, needing him impossibly deeper. 

“Wanna come with you, Joel,” You whimper, and he groans, his forehead falling against yours. He’s close, his thrusts becoming quicker and more shallow, and he’s so close to you, his hot skin against yours, you wish you could stay this way forever. 

“Fuck, baby,” He says, voice broken. “Where d’ya want me?”

“Inside,” You reply breathlessly. “Want you to come inside me.” A strangled grunt leaves his throat at your filthy words.

“Shit, Okay, angel. Come for me, wanna feel you,” You oblige, letting yourself fall into bliss, liquid gold and white heat flashing behind your eyelids as you come undone on his cock. Joel lets out a few more animalistic sounds before spilling inside your cunt, and you savor the feeling of his warmth somewhere deep inside of you.

You relish in your post-orgasm haze, body going limp as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You feel Joel slowly pulling out of you, and you groan in protest.

“Gotta clean you up, baby,” He says, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, but you wrap your arms around him before he can move any further.

“Jus– just wanna stay like this for a little,” You tell him. “Please,” You add, and he gives in, his strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer to him as the two of you doze off into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

__ __ __

Golden sunlight pools from the window as you wake up in your husband’s arms. He’s still sleeping, glowing under the late morning sun. You kiss his lips softly, and he stirs a little, eyes fluttering open and squinting at the harsh light.

“Morning, handsome,” You say with a kiss to his cheek. Joel groans and buries his head into the crook of your neck, pulling your body closer to his. You giggle, fingers brushing through his graying hair.

“Last night was fun,” You say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and he hums in agreement. “The roleplaying was a good idea, we should do it more often.” You add. “Though you really didn't have to sit on that nasty bathroom floor.” Joel pulls his head away from your warm body, looking you dead in the eye. 

“Darlin’, I woulda’ licked that goddamn floor for you.” You laugh, and he kisses your neck briefly. “M’serious. You better know that,” He tells you. You’re smiling widely, rays of sun bouncing off of your skin as Joel wonders to himself how he got so goddamn lucky. 

He briefly brought up roleplay a while ago after you ranted to him about your long day at work while he gave you a foot rub on the couch. He wasn't sure if you’d take him up on the offer, but you agreed that pretending to be someone else for a while could be a nice little escape from reality.

That’s how you found yourself at a local bar, ordering drinks while your husband sits in front of you as you pretend not to know him. All the while, Joel wondering how on earth he got fortunate enough to find you, let alone be the lucky man to marry you. And you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress. He’s sure every other man in the bar noticed the way it hugged your curves. But he was the one who got to have you. He was the one who drove you to your shared house and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. He was yours, yours to do whatever you pleased with.   

Joel’s train of thought is cut off as he hears the bedsheets rustle beneath you as you move to get out of bed. You’re sitting on the edge of the mattress, your back facing him as you put your hair up into a lazy ponytail. You turn your head back to look at him, eyes twinkling.

“I’m making coffee,” You say. “Y’want some?” 

“Coffee sounds great, angel, thank you,” He responds, and you smile as you get up.

“Okay, baby. Be right back,” You tell him, leaning down to kiss him one last time before making your way to the kitchen. Joel still tastes you on his lips as he watches the way your back sways with every step, leaving the room as you hum the tune of the song that was playing at the bar last night.Yeah, he thinks to himself. Joel Miller is the luckiest motherfucker alive.

a\n: zoo wee mama this took me way too long to write!! i pray this doesn't flop, but either way i enjoyed writing it. thank you for reading this far!! criticism is much appreciated <3

picture 1: King Lear by Edwin Austin Abbey

picture 2: @/ Anime♡Star on Pinterest

picture 3: @/ VSPINK on Pinterest

[missjomarch]

Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight. 

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks. 

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you. 

“Luke.” 

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips. 

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?” 

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?” 

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile. 

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance. 

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat. 

“Fine, Jack.” 

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.” 

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed. 

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place. 

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl. 

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months. 

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving. 

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him? 

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind. 

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked. 

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.” 

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?” 

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window. 

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.” 

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest. 

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare. 

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense. 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.” 

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh. 

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.” 

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it. 

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face. 

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke. 

“How long have you been following behind me?” 

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face. 

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left. 

“What’d I miss?” 

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you. 

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you. 

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away. 

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.” 

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.” 

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face. 

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.” 

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on. 

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?” 

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment. 

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates. 

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors. 

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother. 

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you.  So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone. 

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less. 

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent. 

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned. 

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.” 

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back. 

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”       

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.” 

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone. 

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?” 

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates. 

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house. 

 “Someone hit me.” 

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck. 

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern. 

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”              

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option. 

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you. 

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke. 

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand. 

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center. 

“For what, love?” 

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled. 

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?” 

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way. 

“Mhmm. Lukey?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.” 

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster. 

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?” 

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand. 

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear. 

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.” 

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead. 

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey. 

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.” 

“Luke.” 

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’  Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’ 

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality. 

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.” 

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything. 

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.” 

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself. 

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.” 

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.” 

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him. 

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?” 

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.” 

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?” 

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself. 

“Even Secretariat.” 

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now. 

[ttulipwritezz]

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 1 -  Stranger that I know.

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 817 words

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, kiss(es), might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: bear with me on this one, it's rather short but it's to jumpstart the series so i can write the rest of the parts. If you like this, please reblog and comment! <3

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

"When did you say they were arriving again?"

Your voice echoes through the walls of the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld place. you wipe down the kitchen counters as another smaller, more meek voice replies.

"Mum we talked about this" That's your son. Regulus.

After the event of your brother passing, you wanted to honour his name. Such a beautiful name it was. No matter how cruel the people to name him were.

"I know ,I just worry, what if they get lost? maybe they couldn't find the place? what if they got caught- " Your rambling was interrupted by your son once again.

"MUM! nothing is going to happen. Besides, he's your brother. And he has lived here before. You know him." Regulus reasoned, and frankly his reasoning was logical. you were just...paranoid.

You did however, leave out the fact that what truly made you nervous was Remus.

"Well i haven't for the past 14 years, Regulus." you replied, snappy, referring to sirius. Your impatience was nearly rivaling that of your son.

"when is it arrivingggg?" a voice full of exasperation nearly whines as the screeching sound of trolly wheels comes to a halt.

An eleven year old regulus rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet as he (claimed to) patiently wait for hogwarts express to make it's way into the platform.

A thirty three year old you bent down to brush away his untamed curls, sighing as you did so.

"It will arrive soon enough, dove. Calm down."

Your voice tried to reason but little regulus's patience was waning. You had never seen a kid be so excited at the thought of going off to boarding school. But you suppose watching his older brother Harry would have embedded him with some form of excitement for the school.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t just as excited. It was your son’s first day at school. Big boy wizarding school.You were excited to see your boy go to the place you first knew as home, meet your former professors, roam the halls that you did, and make friends.

You did not, however, expect his first friend to be Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and your dearest cousin. In a way the two were cousins, they just didn’t know it yet.

That summer, when regulus came back from Hogwarts, he had a plethora of stories to tell you. His rant began with his new friends, Draco, Blaise, Pansy and Theo, and ended with his defense against the dark arts professor, Remus Lupin.

Needless to say all colour drained from your face at the mention of him. Remus Lupin…how do you even begin to describe remus lupin?

Remus is pretty. 

He is pretty like the sunrise in winter, when the sky is faded out and it's warm. Thats what you think as you sit on the roof of  potter manor. Chatting, with hands occupied by, what you think is, beer in plastic cups. You felt giddy, perhaps it was the alcohol in your system. Or the gentle brush of his hand on your clothed thigh. You felt…in love. Somewhere along the way your innocent schoolgirl crush had become something more. You hoped it had been so for him as well.

“Dove…”

His velvety voice catches your attention. You turn your head to him, only to see him still facing the sun. You’re sure he’s seen your movement though, as he takes it as his que to continue.

Nothing. Nothing could brace you for the words that were to follow.

“I fancy you.” Your eyes widen.He continues.

“I have for some time now… I think you fancy me too? Not to-  I- uhm–” 

“I do.” you find yourself speaking. 

That was your first of many kisses to come.

Just then, the sound of the doorbell catches your attention.

“That must be them” your son says, in a rather ‘i told you so’ tone.

You rush to wipe your hands on the kitchen towel and head for the door.

Taking a deep breath to brace yourself for what’s probably Remus Lupin on the other side of the door, you pull it open with a creak.

Your eyes immediately find his.

And for a moment, you're fourteen again. Staring at the brown haired bloke across kings cross station, as he laughs with your brother. Mesmerized by his eyes, his nose, his lips, his scars. You knew that face all too well.

You blink and you're back at the doorway. Staring at those brown eyes, those eyes you knew...all too well.

"Remus.."

"Hi, love"

Taglist (open): @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa

[b0nten]

THE TASTE OF LOVE IS ON MY GUMS (I WANT TO DRINK YOUR TEARS AS MOUTHWASH)

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ suguru decides winter is your season, after all.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ this man has me tweaking so goddamn hard. you have no idea. lmao. suguru didn’t go crazy au, i used they/them pronouns for kirara. also y’all should lowkey listen to margaret by lana while reading this

“five minutes, everyone!” satoru’s voice echoes through the dimly-lit room, and you hear some people squeak and cheer.

your eyes flicker briefly to suguru, who’s standing right next to his best friend, and he catches you, eyes crinkling and a cherry blush on his face, probably thanks to the beer he drank as competition with the strongest sorcerer. satoru’s hand drapes around his neck, and he whispers something to him, enough for you not to hear from across the room, where you’re smoking your cigarette with shoko. you do, however, see the small punch your boyfriend gives the man, and chuckle, amused.

“mom, dad, let’s go!” the twins yell in unison, splitting, dragging you and suguru out by your arms, where everybody is.

yuta laughs as you’re pulled by him, almost stumbling over, and megumi and yuuji do too. nobara stands outside, waving her arms around in the air, next to maki, toge and panda, who’re doing just the same, firecrackers and fireworks in their hands.

the school is crowded, this year everyone — including the kyoto students and utahime — joined for new year’s. as you’re dragged outside, nanako’s grip slips from your arm, and her and mimiko leave you and suguru behind, opting to jump on the third years’ backs, and hakari and kirara abide without a word.

“i blame satoru for giving them so much energy.” suguru jokes and wraps an arm around your shoulders, beginning to walk forward. you laugh at him, because you think the same.

slowly, everyone gathers outside: shoko’s lighting another cigarette, nanami is fixing his tie while ino just stands next to him, freezing, after insisting his sheisty is enough to keep him warm, gojo’s pestering utahime and yuki is trying to calm choso after todo slipped a joke about itadori being his brother again. kusakabe’s exasperated as he sees panda and toge fool around with the soon-to-be explosions. yuta and maki are laughing, and nobara and the boys gathered next to nanako, mimiko and the third years.

miwa and kokichi stand somewhere, hand in hand, and momo gushes over them as kamo only sighs, and mai is absolutely resisting the urge to tease them. akari, like the big sister she is, is scolding arata for drinking beer, and ijichi, as always, is trying to calm her down.

suguru walks with you, a bit out front, holding you close. he thinks he couldn’t have had it any better — thank the heavens you were by his side through everything — when he looks at you like this, his heart swells with anticipation. you’re 27 and he is too. in a month, 28 will hit him in the guts. still, he can’t wait.

“two minutes!” yuuji exclaims, and everybody starts to gather closer together, you and the boy with plum blossoms in his eyes the only ones outside of the small brownian motion happening behind. the pink-haired first-year tries to run forward, but megumi, hakari and yuta grip him by his hood.

“don’t, just wait.” they all say in unison, and nanako, mimiko, tsumiki, nobara and maki exchange looks, brows quirked up. the twins slide from their senpais’ backs back down, and move closer to the rest of the group.

everyone’s together.

everyone’s happy.

the moments fly by easily. fireworks start to bloom in the sky. the temples of the school are covered in snow, but the ground has been cleared, thanks to the amazing boys who made your high school years feel like nothing short of the worlds longest rollercoaster.

“five!” noritoshi finally yells.

you looks at suguru with a loving look in your eyes. his bun’s a bit disheveled, but you don’t mind.

“four!” yuki says next.

a particularly beautiful explosion catches your attention, and the boy lets you slip from his hold to step forward.

“three!” todo announces.

suguru’s heart is about to burst, he looks at his two best friends: wide grins on their shameless faces.

his hand travels to his pocket, and he slides something out. music’s blaring in the background from the empty room from inside, but he can only hear the echo of his heartbeat in his ears.

“two!” the kyoto girls yell excitedly.

you’re still with your back to him. he gets down on his knee.

throughout the heavens and the earth, please, god, let him be the honored one.

“one!” the tokyo kids yell.

everybody gasps, and pyrotechnics burn in the sky.

the twins are crying in the background, silently — their mom and dad are getting married — and megumi holds mimiko so close he thinks the air might leave her lungs. tsumiki’s looking at you two with the sweetest smile. toge’s arm is slung tightly around nanako’s shoulder.

“mentaiko.”

“choke.” nanako says back with a small laugh, and the blond flicks her forehead.

panda pats her head, and lets out an amused chuckle.

kirara can’t believe what they’re seeing. they side-eye kinji, who just stands there looking smug, and next to him, yuta smiles, and thinks he might let rika out to see this too, because after all, she somehow liked you from the beginning.

yuki pats choso’s shoulder, the poor cursed womb is crying. nanami looks at his favorite senior, and shoko tries to blink back tears, but utahime knows better, so she hugs her. satoru’s tears are burning through his sclera, but his glasses are good enough to hide them.

you turn around, right when the clock strikes midnight. a big smile is on your face, and then your hands cover your mouth in shock and disbelief and everything that feels like the shoujo mangas suguru laughed at you for liking.

“suguru?” you sniffle, and feel a tear fall from your eye unexpectedly.

he matches you, and one falls on his face too. it drags down on his right side, contouring his chiseled face. when it reaches the jawline, it falls.

“i love you, sweetheart.”

his throat almost constricts, his spine is tingling, another ten tears fall from his eyes as you nod, your own washing down your cheeks. another ten years is all he wants with you, and many more if that’s not too much to ask for.

“marry me, y/n.” his words are heavy, full of love, they peel you open, and lick your soul.

“yes.”

another sniffle, and he gets up, and lifts you up in his embrace. he kisses you like he wasn’t by your side for the last decade.

shibuya in winter doesn’t compare to this.

everyone’s cheering in the background, and panda lights his fireworks too. now you hear mimiko’s and nanako’s happy cries, and kirara’s bowling their eyes out next to kinji — you truly babied them too much, but you’ll still never admit — and megumi and tsumiki look at each other tenderly, boy’s head rested over your daughter’s. two of the people that raised them are now in front of them, and it’s not as if they didn’t know you loved each other, they just can’t believe they were allowed to see this moment.

yuuji and nobara are holding onto each other for dear life as they’re whimpering, and maki and mai shoot each other a happy look. kamo’s eyes dart open, and miwa’s muffling her sobs, her boyfriend right besides her, pinching her cheeks. momo feels her heart clench with so much happiness, and looks to the side, seeing utahime get all teary-eyed. todo’s clutching his necklace.

“finally…” satoru sighs, and nanami punches his shoulder, a ghost of a tear disappearing on the back of his hand.

suguru’s arm hooks under the back of your knees, and he turns around, with you in his hold, bridal style. teenage smiles on your faces: your hand is stretched out front, pink morganite and aquamarine shining in the moonlight.

“happy new year, everyone!” your fiancé cheers, and throws you in the air, above. a flash — shoko’s ancient polariod camera, and everyone comes rushing forward.

[atarathegreat]

ZombieLand Tokyo Revengers

ft: Takemichi Hanagaki, Ken Ryuguji, Izana Kurokawa, Manjiro Sano

Because when the end of the world takes your lover from you, what else can you do but search for her endlessly?

"I just need help!" Takemichi yelled at the men on top of the makeshift gates. Cars, trucks, even porches were used to create the effective barrier. "Look!" He held up a photo, "I just need help finding this woman!"

The men laughed at him and told him they weren't some search and rescue team. Of course they'd say that, Takemichi thought, why should they risk their lives to help solve my problem? He'd never been in lower spirits and it made him want to curl up and die. His wife, his beautiful wife, was gone. Taken and never returned by the stupid circumstances they found themselves in. The end of the world seems so impossible until you're staring down the maw of another human who's brainless and wants to eat yours.

Months passed, the cold weather setting in and making his hope of finding you shrivel up. Japan was huge, but maybe word could still get around, maybe you'd still come back to him. Or at the very least he could find your corpse wandering around searching for an arm to gnaw on. Hell, maybe he'd even let you take him out. That didn't sound like such a bad way to go. Lost in his thoughts, Takemichi didn't notice the group of survivors circling him in the department store. Or maybe he had? He couldn't tell anymore, all he wanted was his wife.

"Hey." He jolted at the sudden hand on his chest, "Our boss wants you."

Takemichi scoffed out a laugh, walking around they guy while saying something about minding his own business and not pissing anyone off. "Seriously?" Another person came from the shadows, gun to his face, "You're coming with us."

"I've had more guns pointed at me than I care for." Takemichi slumped and let his body hit the floor, "If your boss wants me that badly, drag me."

He hadn't expected them to, but they grabbed his arms and legs and carried him through the infested city. For once, Hanagaki was able to rest and sleep. He dreamed of finally finding her and holding her, crying into her lap as he always had before when it got to be too much. He missed her gentle hold and the way she just knew how to comfort him. As the two struggled to carry him up the stairs into another building, he heard snickering.

"Michi, get up! Stop making them carry you!" There she was, sitting amongst a bigger group of people and children. He didn't care who he fell over, screaming apologies as he crashed into her. She laughed as he stumbled, holding him close as he wrapped around her like a child, crying into her oversized coat. "A winter coat, anyone." She called, her hands rubbing at him to heat up his body, "It's getting colder, Michi. Haven't you tried to keep warm?"

Group after group, camp after camp, and yet Kenny couldn't find her anywhere. He kept his search to himself, he didn't need people feeling bad for him if it turned up that she was dead. Mitsuya knew, of course, because Kenny couldn't just let his brother deal with this shit alone, especially when his sisters were with him.

"She's around somewhere." Kenny sighed, downing a beer they'd managed to scavenge. He hadn't wanted to search the liquor store, but they were running out of options anymore. "If she's alive, she's searching for us, right?" He looked to his friend for assurance. Kenny needed for her to be looking for him, too. He needed to know that she was trying to get back to him. Mitsuya patted him on the back, but said nothing. Last time he tried to comfort his friend it ended in them fist fighting and attracting the attention of a local camp. A camp that, from what they heard, was ruthless and wouldn't hesitate to use them as walker bait.

Kenny looked around the small, four person squad he was leading around. Two women and Mitsuya, all depending on him and he was more worried about finding someone that might be dead. He sighed again, his chest feeling tighter as he cracked open another lukewarm beer.

"Hands!"

Luna and Mana hit the ground as Mitsuya and Kenny stood to aim their own weapons at the intruders. A feeling of pride filled Kenny as he realized the cohesion of his miniscule legion. "Who's there?" Mitsuya called, his eyes trained on the shadows.

"Guns down!" Another yell came from behind them, "I said weapons down! I won't have any qualms shooting any of you!"

Kenny's wife stepped from the shadows and around them all with a gun trained ahead, a gun that was definitely too big for her, "Down, damn it! Lower them!"

"Captain-"

"Down!" She screamed and the sound of many, many weapons hitting the ground followed before she turned to them again, "I found you."

Izana was an unbothered man on the surface, but Kakucho knew his friend was slowly losing it. He was more reckless, less attentive, and overall a danger to the survival of their group as a whole. More than once had the Haitani brothers debated Izana's ability to lead them safely. It wasn't something Kakucho was proud of, but he was also second guessing it. How were they to survive in this hell if the one leading them didn't seem to care anymore?

He didn't know, but he wouldn't stop following.

"She's been here, Kakucho." Izana smiled, his sharp canines showing dangerously in the dim fire light, "I know it sounds stupid, but she's been here. Don't you see how everything is wiped clean? Nothing of use left? She's resourceful."

"Or it's a busy area and other survivors have stripped this bitch clean." Shion scoffed, "Are you really staking our survival on the idea of finding a woman when she's probably dead?"

Kakucho should've broken up the fight, he should've helped Izana and kept him from injuring Shion. Should've, could've, would've. "Izana," He started, "maybe we should focus on ourselves for a while?"

That was almost two weeks ago. None of them had seen Izana since. Until there was a commotion too close to their current shelter and they all hurried to help Izana. Forty against one wasn't fair and they weren't gong to let their friend get killed. Izana was holding his own well enough, but not good enough to beat off the whole town that was surrounding him. And Kakucho was great at using his gun as a club.

"Easy, Kaku!" That voice, could it be. It was! She was blocking his hit, glaring at him as if he had started this fight, "Help me calm Iza down!"

"Just go to him and he'll be fine!" Kakucho yelled, pointing to where Izana was laughing like a mad man and gaining the attention of walkers, "Do it fast or we're all puppy chow!"

How could he have lost her? How had she managed to get so far away from him that he couldn't even whistle and her whistle back? It was getting to Manjiro that he didn't have her at his side while he walked. He stayed holed up in his brothers old shop, waiting for her to come back. That was the deal if they ever got separated, they would meet back at S.S. Motors. It wasn't hard, not by a long shot, but it had been forever and she still wasn't back.

He'd never thought he could miss the nagging and the way she clung to him, but he did. Manjiro would give anything for her to be running up to him after a decent race, her hug suffocating him in his racing jumper even if he was far too sweaty underneath. God, he'd let her smother him to death if only she was right there with him.

"Don't you dare!" Manjiro remembered yelling at her as she went to open a door, "There's a bell on the door, you'll wake anything up that's in there!"

He'd take all that aggravation and fear if only it meant she was with him. Manjiro missed her so damn much. Every little sound was her coming back to him, so he stopped responding to them. He didn't move when his mind created the sound of the door opening, but he jerked around when a body pressed up against his.

"S'just me, Manji." Her voice was tired, hoarse, "Rest, yeah? We'll eat in the morning."

[maxybabyy]

The power has been out for an hour when he finds the kid looming around in the hallway.

He’s in the same old NYU shirt that Daniel always sees him in. The shoulder seams hang loose from his frame, and there’s a giant hole in the sleeve, big enough to fit a thumb through if you tried. Max must have done that before, he thinks, chewing away at the strings. The silly plastic thing is gone too, leaving nothing but the frayed tips.

“I reckon it’s gonna be out for a while,” he says when Max just keeps staring at the emergency light flicker. The one fucking thing this shitty building actually has. Maintenance is shit, and he’s pretty sure there’s a new species of black mould growing in the hallway window. But at least their little void on the seventh floor follows the safety guidelines.

He taps his socked foot against Max’s scruffy sneakers, watches him turn around with a frown.

“I was playing with my friends, and then the electricity went out. I thought it was for me only, so I checked the fuses,” Max tells him with his hands high in the air, his fingers flicking along with his words. Daniel doesn’t even know where he would look for the fuse box in his shithole of a studio. “But it is of course the entire building. I think maybe it is the lightning,” he adds.

“Nah, the building is just shit,” Daniel tells him. “If it’s not a water leak or a fucking rat problem, it’s the power. Same old shit and they won’t fix it. Just wait until winter when the heating will go away too.”

Daniel has learned to keep himself busy when the snow starts falling. LA, in particular, is great around Christmas when New York becomes too unbearable.

“I was here in the winter also,” Max says, gestures to door where he lives like Daniel doesn’t already know. “It was so nice of you, giving me a Christmas present. I of course had not bought you anything, but you said –“

Blake had dropped off the newest batch of merch samples right around New Year’s, and they had all been shit. The design was wrong, and the colour palette was completely off. They still haven’t gotten the peach the right colour, but the other shit looks fine now. Back then Max had – he would walk around in the same fucking shirt he’s wearing now. Skinny jeans frayed at the hem in a way they aren’t supposed to be, a rolodex of white tee shirts from Target, and a thin, barely-there windbreaker to fend off the cold.

Daniel had given him the leftover merch, he had to. There was no fucking way he couldn’t do it.

He taps Max’s shoe again, watches him crack a grin before he nods his head towards his apartment. “Do you wanna come in? I just have like, a candle and shit, but we can chill until the power comes back.”

Max nods and follows him inside.

Daniel doesn’t offer him a beer, sips at the can while they both watch the flicker of the wick. He doesn’t have another candle, so this one will have to last, the whispers of sea breeze faint between them.

He’s telling Max about his latest gig – some dive bar with a shitty ironic name like Cheers or Sam’s, or shit like that – when Max reaches out to poke at the candle. His skin looks glowing in the candlelight, a warm contrast to Max’s usual pale skin. His fingers look long, elegant as they curl around the candle, his thumb stroking over the dripping wax like it was –

“Daniel?” Max prompts, eyes flickering from the wick to his face and back again, “The drummer is of course an idiot, but it went alright, you said?”

Daniel jerks back into the couch. He swallows loudly. Tries and fails to convince himself he hadn’t been zoning out on the kid’s hands like a fucking weirdo. Safety first, he thinks faintly, can’t have a fucking fire during a power outage.

Max keeps playing with the candle wax, making it drip down onto Daniel’s shitty white wood Ikea table he had carried home in the subway. But every time he touches it, Max sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, presses down to make it run faster, and Daniel cannot find it in himself to stop him.

Max’s in the middle of a story about his family dog back in the Netherlands, when he accidentally touches the flame. He’s quick to pull back, hissing loudly as he sucks his pointer and middle finger into his mouth with a muddled, “Fuck!”

“Careful!” Daniel scolds. He’s already halfway across the couch reaching for him like a fucking mother hen. But instead of his hand, Daniel grabs onto Max’s thigh in his panic, the muscle firm in his grip. Max watches him back, flexes his thigh as he sucks the fingers deeper into his obnoxiously big, oddly fitting mouth, and Daniel cannot keep – has to look away.

Stares at Max’s knees instead, awkward and protruding and littered with odd bruises.

Daniel wonders how he got them, forces himself to think of less nefarious reasons for how they could appear. Once, Daniel had gotten so drunk that Scotty couldn’t get him to come down from the bar, dancing away until he felt dizzy with exhaustion and drink.

Back then, when his body had been young and spry, he had slammed to his knees before swinging his legs to the side to get off the bar. They had been black and blue for a week before his knees had recovered.

But Max doesn’t let him ponder for long, slides to the floor in a move impossibly fluid for someone to not have done it a hundred times over. He’s quick to reach for Daniel's jeans, one hand still spit-slick as he pulls at the zipper, and Daniel has to – cannot let him do this.

“Hey, mate,” he says, laughs nervously. “Aren’t you like sixteen or something?”

Once, he had tried to give the kid a twenty so he could buy himself some food for the night. Gaunt cheeks and lanky body a cruel reminder of his own teens. Refusing money from Grace and Joe to prove he hadn’t screwed up by running away to America to make it big.

But the kid didn’t take the money and had instead stared at him, brows drawn together much like he is now. “I’m nineteen,” he says.

“In a year or two, maybe.” Daniel scoffs. But still, he doesn’t move. Max’s hand stays on his dick, heavy and warm despite the temperature of the apartment. “Be real, man. I’m fine with you sticking around but –“

Max snarls. He stays on his knees, but Daniel cannot meet his eyes, stares himself blind where his jeans have become undone. “Always you do this. You are so kind to me, flirting with me, but then you run away when I respond!

“Now you ask me to come to your apartment, with the mood lighting also, and again you will not touch me. This is not fair, Daniel.” Max says and digs his nails into his thighs, forces Daniel to look at him – at the furious glare and the too-red lips.

It’s unfair how good he looks sitting between Daniel’s spread thighs. There’s a dusting of pale, blonde hair at the top of his thighs where his shorts have crawled up, and his entire face is flushed with emotion. It’s all Daniel can do to not put a better name to it – the death of creativity for once not a foe. His cheekbones sit high and sharp on his face, a mole on his lip revealed only when Max doesn’t bite into it, looking so fucking pretty.

Maybe that’s why he’s here of all places. Scouted off the fucking streets and put in a shitty apartment in some mirror nightmare of Daniel’s, waiting impatiently for Vogue to call.

Max is still staring at him, and Daniel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s not going to fucking card Max in his own apartment, that’s a cunt move. Max would probably throw the card in his face, if he asked, indignant little glare before he would lean in and –

“Yeah, alright,” he whispers but it’s enough. Max hears him, and he does lean in to pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

Max takes him into his mouth, lips stretched around the head almost obscenely, and suddenly Daniel has to force himself to close his eyes shut. It’s too much already, watching Max take him even deeper into his mouth as his head thumps back against the couch. He clearly knows what he’s doing, relaxing his throat as he goes. His hands are firm on Daniel’s hips, keeping a steady pressure until Daniel gets with the programme and fucks into his mouth.

He barely has the time to let Max know before he’s coming. But Max doesn’t move, keeps him on his tongue until his mouth is full and Max has to swallow.

“Shit, Maxy,” he moans, thighs still shaking as Max climbs to his feet. “You’re not. You don’t have to –“ But Max doesn’t leave, drops into Daniel’s lap with his shorts abandoned on the floor.

Max jerks himself off with one hand balanced on Daniel’s shoulder. It’s closer than Daniel’s been to someone else’s dick in years, since Scotty got down on one knee and fucked everything up. A cock is a cock is a cock, but Max’s dick looks almost pretty held in his own fist.

It makes him think of the fucking candle from before, how the wax had dripped between his fingers, and how quick he had been to suck them into his mouth, like he had just done to Daniel, to his dick.

“Daniel,” Max begs, watches Daniel watch him fuck into his own hand desperately. “Please.”  

“Okay, yeah. I got you, Maxy.” He says and slips his fingers into Max’s mouth. It’s only the first two, but his dick still jerks at the reminder of the warm heat of Max’s mouth, the tight pressure and how his tongue cannot keep still. Max whines when he pulls them out, shoots him another furious look that is quickly replaced with a shout when Daniel brushes over his hole. “Like that, yeah?”

Max nods, eyes wide for another moment before they screw themselves shut as he comes with another sound. It’s another few minutes before Max speaks again, the words muffled against Daniel’s chest where he still hasn’t moved. “What’s that?”

Max huffs and sits upright, rubs at the spot on Daniel’s shirt where his dick has left a smear. “I said, the lights are back.” He says, gestures to the room now bathed in light.

“Oh.” Daniel couldn’t tell you when that happened, if it was before Max went to his knees or after. The candle still flickers behind them, pools of wax already hardened on the wood. “I guess they are, yeah.”

[cuubism]

Exploration

Dreamling | Explicit | 2k

--

“Are you… sure you don’t want me to touch you, too?”

Hob brushes light fingertips over the back of Dream’s hand as he says it. He is lovely, to wish to give so. And he is lovely where he lies back on top of the covers, head pillowed on one arm, hair loose across the pillow and bare chest gorgeous and tempting in the low light.

“You don’t have to,” Hob continues. “I just. I feel kind of bad.”

“I would like that,” Dream says. The phantom thought of Hob’s hands lingers over him; he can perfectly imagine how Hob would touch him, with strength and heat and surety. “But. Later. I wish to focus on… exploring you.”

He has been promised a chance to touch, to breach this wall that has not yet fallen with his curious hands. He has been wanting to, without true reason or allowance within the boundaries of friendship — and yet Hob allows him.

“Alright,” Hob says, “I’m not going to turn you down again.”

Dream settles on his knees by Hob’s hip, studying the warm tones of his skin. The bedroom lamplight is flattering on him, illuminating each curve of his body in gold. Everything is flattering on him, to Dream’s eye. Hob is the vitality of the universe condensed into a form he can touch, and it is overwhelming to hover his hands over those coals, but Dream carefully lays a hand on his chest anyway. Lets warm skin and coarse hair surprise and please him in a way little does.

He drags his thumb up over Hob’s collarbone. Hob had been confused, at first, when Dream asked simply to touch him, perhaps thinking it a precursor to more — but it is simpler than that. Dream has just been compelled by the sight of him; he watches the flex of Hob’s arms and back when he lifts crates of beer down in the inn, and the curve of his cheek when he smiles, his solid thighs, and strong brow, and the breadth of his chest under thin t-shirts. Dream does not want to delve through daydreams to understand outside perspectives on these matters — he wants to know what Hob’s body feels like himself, to be close to him for no other reason than just that.

He is not used to touching humanity so intimately, but Hob is one he would know.

Hob’s gaze is locked on him as Dream wraps a light hand around his throat, feeling the bump as he swallows, and the kick of Hob’s pulse under his thumb. He doesn’t linger or hold him there, instead touches his jaw, his cheek, leans in to study the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I can’t decide if I feel like an exam, or a slice of cake,” Hob says, voice low and hushed and fond. Dream feels like a bit of a silly thing that’s being indulged, and it’s surprising not to mind.

“Neither,” he says. At least, that is not how Dream feels. Puzzled, yes, hungry, yes, but more so as though he is sitting too close to a hearth, overheating, getting smoke in his eyes, just starting to sweat under his clothes but still not moving because the fire is so gratifying after the winter’s chill.

Hob’s eyes are bright and amused and hungry, too, but he doesn’t move, lets Dream peck over him like a curious bird. His eyes are so warm and good; everything about him is warm and good. Dream touches underneath one eye, feels the fragile skin there.

“You are beautiful,” he murmurs.

“If you say so.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “I do believe my opinion is the only one that matters at the moment.”

Hob laughs. “Alright. You’re not wrong there.”

“Do you not agree with my assessment?”

“Eh. It’s not that.” He does touch Dream then, just a light brush of the hand over Dream’s thigh. “It just has so much more gravity when you say it.”

Dream would like to… have gravity to Hob.

He returns to his studies, traveling lower, running his hands over Hob’s biceps, the bend of his elbow, the coarse hair on his forearm and his strong hand, threading their fingers together briefly before letting go. The more he touches, the more he wants to touch; he only feels hungrier, never sated, and he goes back to Hob’s chest, laying both hands on his sternum. His pectorals. Dragging a finger over one nipple, which gets him a little gasp, and a shiver that runs up Hob’s spine.

Dream likes the way Hob’s body responds. He likes how sharply he can feel Hob’s attention, every ounce of its intensity on him. He revels in the novel textures of this so human body, so different from his own even when he is playing at humanity.

“You have very tempting hands,” Hob murmurs, but still doesn’t move.

Dream doesn’t respond verbally, but he does keep touching. He drags his fingertips down the ladder of Hob’s ribcage — he can feel each rib if he presses hard enough, although much less so than on his own chest — and then to the soft belly that gives inwards under his touch, that rises and falls under his hands. Hob has a thin white scar just beside his belly button, and Dream can imagine a knife slipping in there, gutting, spilling organs. He traces his thumb along it and feels the history there.

“Permission to touch stops at the skin level,” Hob teases, as Dream lingers there.

“I was not intending to play with your innards,” Dream says.

“Well, let’s not be too hasty.”

Dream meets his eyes again, and finds a spark of unbearable playfulness there. He finds he is looking forward to returning to Hob’s offer to touch him in return. He is also wondering if he might be allowed to explore with his mouth next.

But there is much he can do with his hands.

“I have frequently been too hasty,” he admits, and lets his hands ghost lower, to Hob’s hips, and dragging through the trail of hair from his belly to the button of his jeans. He glances up to meet Hob’s gaze again, and Hob just nods, breathless.

Dream plucks open the button and zipper of Hob’s jeans, anticipation curling inside him. There is nothing new about this, but it is new with Hob. And even if it weren’t, Hob has a way of making everything Dream touches feel new.

He considers pulling Hob’s clothes off all the way, and perhaps after he will — but there is something wondrous and thrilling in sneaking his hand into Hob’s pants, pushing his underwear down just low enough to free his cock. He feels like he is, for once, allowing a momentary slowness to unveil things one at a time, instead of all at once.

He imagines that afterward Hob will insist on returning the favor, so to speak, and Dream is not inclined to decline such an offer — perhaps then he will strip them both bare and touch every inch of skin, feel the heat of Hob’s body all along his. He thinks it might ruin him for an evening, that Hob’s hands on him, around him, in him, might set him alight when he has been but ashes for a very long time. He thinks perhaps he’d like to be ruined for an evening. Or forever, though that is too much to hope for.

For now, he listens to Hob’s breath pick up and shudder in the quiet bedroom. He fixates on the weight of Hob in his hand, how he’s rapidly growing harder just from Dream’s touch, his presence. How Hob squirms under him for the first time. “Dream—”

“Hush,” Dream tells him. “Do not worry. I won’t tease you. I intend to see you come.”

“Fucking hell.”

Dream licks his palm to provide the barest amount of slip and returns to Hob’s cock. He strokes once, twice, experimenting as Hob fills out in his hand. His own arousal simmers between his legs, up his spine, but it’s background noise in comparison to his true focus. The blush rising to Hob’s cheeks. His flailing hand, reaching for Dream.

Dream takes it, but rather than entwine their fingers he pins Hob’s wrist to the bed, two fingertips pressed to his pulse. He wants to feel the thrum of Hob’s blood, and his heart tripping over itself as he comes.

Hob bites his lip on a groan, head tipped back. “Fuck you’re strong.”

“I could pin you down,” Dream says, as he twists his hand around Hob’s cock and pulls another strangled gasp from him. “Would you like that?”

“Jesus, Mary, and— and— and what? You’d take what you want from me?”

“Or fulfill all of your dreams.” Dream gives in to his own craving and kisses Hob’s pelvis, nosing at the base of his cock. Then keeps working with his hand at the base as he spreads his lips over the head, hearing Hob curse above him again.

Dream has never been good at going slow, but he is only feeling rewarded for this failure by the weight of Hob in his mouth. He is salty and musky and hot. Dream bobs his head, swirls his tongue curiously around him, and under his fingertips, Hob’s pulse trips double time.

“I thought this was exploration, not a mission to kill me.” Hob’s voice is cracked. He grasps at Dream’s hair with searching fingers, and Dream tips his head closer in acquiescence, and if he makes his hair just a bit longer to make it easier, well, no matter. Hob takes a fistful of his hair with a grip akin to what Dream is currently exerting on his arm, and Dream’s moan is pulled out of him.

Hob may not have the supernatural strength of Dream, but his grip is sure, and Dream wonders if Hob would let him flip the narrative, if Hob would not only touch and explore him but also hold him. The thought makes him shudder pleasantly.

He pulls off long enough to speak, a line of spit trailing from his lips to Hob’s cock. “I have not known exploration to kill you, Hob Gadling.”

“You might.”

“I do not desire this, though I admit it might be flattering.”

Hob laughs, a warm, rough sound. “Just the sight of you is enough to strike me where I stand. And your mouth… I better not start or I’ll come just from talking about it, and I’d rather come in your mouth, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is not the same, it is preferable,” Dream says, and Hob’s breath hitches, and Dream takes him back in his mouth, deep enough that Hob bumps against the back of his throat. Hob curses, pulling his hair, sharp and painful, pushing him down— Dream swallows convulsively around him, Hob’s cock heavy and pleasantly bruising in his throat.

“Dream—!” It’s broken off and choked, and Hob comes down his throat. Dream pulls off and manages to swallow, though a line of Hob’s come escapes from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away. He feels blissed out, light and sated, for all that he is still hard in his jeans.

Hob takes him by the arms and hauls him up. “Come here—” Dream crashes into his mouth before he can finish that sentence, bruising himself on Hob’s lips as Hob pulls him close. Hob’s hands go back to his hair, but gentler now, petting, running through the strands, cradling his head. Dream licks into his mouth, a rumble of happiness building in his chest. He had not intended to explore quite so far, but he doesn’t regret it.

He runs his hands over Hob’s strong shoulders. There is still so much more to touch.

“Dream,” Hob murmurs, when they pull apart, expression so soft and tender now. He runs his thumb over Dream’s lower lip, and Dream wants to open his mouth for him again, wants to open everything for him. It’s a heady feeling to want, and feel comfortable wanting.

“Does your offer of reciprocity still stand?” he asks, voice rough. He doesn’t even truly care if he comes. He just wants Hob to touch him.

“Are you kidding?” Hob says. “I think I might die if I don’t touch you.”

“I do not understand this obsession with dying because of me,” Dream says, but hums with pleasure as Hob kisses him again.

“It’s because you’re making my heart stop.”

“I felt your pulse and know this to be untrue.”

“I’d think you’d be the first to know that not everything that’s true is physical, King of Dreams,” Hob retorts, with such fondness in his voice, in his hands, in his body under Dream’s.

What he says is true, for none of Dream is truly physical, and all of him is going tachycardic over all of the points where they touch.

“I want you,” Dream says. “I want—” he takes Hob’s hand and places it on his neck, his thumb over the pulse that Dream allows just for this. It flutters in his throat, new and yearning— “you to touch me.”

Hob kisses that brand new heartbeat. “Darling, that is the easiest thing in the world for you to have.”

[theshireisburning-so-mordoritis]

Drunk love confessions w Eddie please?

[9K. Eddie Munson x F!Reader - Drunk confessions, best friends to lovers, Eddie being a menace and friends who are extremely touchy and too dumb to realise it's because they're in love.]

A/N: I'm sorry for how late this is, writing has been a nightmare lately. Also shout out to @acourtofsnakes for being my biggest motivator, the most supportive friend I could ever ask for and for putting up with my shit because I sent a thousand snippets daily asking if they made sense. ILY 💕

Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you. He was your best friend after all. 

What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.

His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why. 

But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side. 

"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?” 

You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening.

Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow. The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again. 

"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?" 

To your surprise he actually listened. 

His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs. 

"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction. 

You did laugh then.

A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold, hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose. 

"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.

God, why did that make you want to melt.

"Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head. It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin. 

"‘Am now.” 

You froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.

A quick glance at Steve told you it was. Your friend looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t. 

"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?” 

You considered it but then poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.” 

He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.

"Eddie?” 

Nothing. 

"Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious. 

The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.

You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck. 

"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then he threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”

There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return, reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.” 

He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous. 

"Jesus christ.” 

"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.” 

You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.

"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works with me.” 

There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom. The kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed. Friends totally do that, right?

It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.

And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contented groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face. 

"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.” 

"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.

And oh fuck, you were staring.

Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.

Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was. 

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs.

Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight before his lips descended on yours. 

Jesus. 

You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.

But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild. 

It was a look that made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?

You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.

You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.

His gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes snapped back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.

Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.

You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.

But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.

Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak, managing only a pitiful stutter, and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes squeezing shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing? 

What were you thinking?

This was Eddie.

Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.

Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.

It felt wrong. It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out. 

He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs. 

You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning and a sick feeling bubbling in your stomach.

But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over rows of polaroids, fairy lights that were hung a little messy and uneven, the old ticket stubs dotted about randomly that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration instead.

Your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud. 

The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear. 

"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly. 

It still felt like too much to look at him, maybe even more now when all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin. Sweats slung low on his hips and big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened. 

You couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps. 

Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it. He held his breath as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning. 

There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings, the rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.

He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you, hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did.

Hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up. 

And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you. 

It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets, an anxious habit he despised being the cause of because fuck, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. 

For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window. 

And then he seemed to think better of it. 

You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”

You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed, getting more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off. 

"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress. But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers. 

"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?” 

You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”

Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.

"Touche.”

The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.

It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together. 

You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.

"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.

“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.” 

You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue. 

"I don’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.

“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.” 

You scoffed, too amused to be truly offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’ 

Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.

"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?” 

"Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”

"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.” 

"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.” 

You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.” 

"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”

"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”

"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand.  “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.” 

You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?” 

"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.

He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the soft heat that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.” 

You hated that he was right. 

Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness. No, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.

It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why. 

Yet.

So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.

You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak. So you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him. 

But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.

His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the way it made your belly swoop and dip. 

"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, his chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.

You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt. Threatening to brand the skin beneath. 

"What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole.” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears.

Though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too. 

"Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.” 

“I was actually just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it.

Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own. 

You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?” 

"Sam.” 

"Same thing.”

"Not even close, sweetheart.” 

"At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.

Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He argued mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way. 

"His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.

But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’. 

“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic” 

He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours. 

It made you gentle yourself - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest taking over and urging you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew.

Your fingers found their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.

"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–” 

You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.

“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothing bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go running off into the night to defend my honour.” 

But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to. 

He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.

And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.  

"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, patient, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.

He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.

He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch. You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap. 

It felt like his first mistake. 

Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you? 

He’d lost count. 

All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe.

That being this close didn’t feel as innocently friendly as it had five minutes ago, as it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.

Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips. 

It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer. Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer. 

He hesitated with it, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”

The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it. 

Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?

"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?" 

"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”

You inclined your head. "Makes sense." And then it sunk in what he had said. "Wait, hang on - what?”

"Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”

He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch.

Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new, excruciating kind of torture. 

Eddie was in love with someone else.

And he hadn't even thought to tell you until now.

"Eddie–” you murmured dazedly, because christ, he was still talking and you're mind was whirring and you just really needed him to stop. 

"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane, I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave that idea a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”

Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it. 

"Eddie.” You managed to repeat a little stronger than before. But to your horror it still sounded weak and you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake. 

You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth. 

You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could. 

And yet you were painfully still, a statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid.

Except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising. Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on. 

You felt pathetic, embarassment and rejection leeching through your veins like poison.

"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-” 

"Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie-” 

He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft, his grip growing more confident when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself away. Drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.

"-you.” 

You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bone as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had. 

It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding. Did you even know how?

The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again. 

So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”

"Wasn’t you.” He whispered, and neither of you could take your eyes off the other as he took a deep breath whilst your own remained trapped in your chest. His voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.” 

You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild in your chest.

Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words. 

He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him. If it was maybe for both of you.

A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.

"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”

He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again. 

You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound. His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.

"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’.”

And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers. 

"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache. 

“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”

He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.

Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?

"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when your other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.

"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”

"You could never do anything to make me hate your or not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he could only describe as pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.” 

He swore he'd never loved you more than he did right then.

"Yeah?” Eddie breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming. 

"Yeah.” 

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”

Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.

"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.

It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”  

Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.” 

You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted into him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you that much closer. Just because he could.

"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.

"Anything.”

"You gonna take me on a date Munson?” 

As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could. He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too, because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you. 

He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”  

"Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”

"Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw.

“Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always by the way, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.” 

Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you.

“Oh.” You breathed out.

He swallowed, hard. 

And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh.”

"How am I supposed to say no to that?”

His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.

The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need. He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape. 

"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all. You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder. 

"Can I kiss you now?” 

It already felt like he was. His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin.

The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.

It was a fleeting thing, lasting no more than a few blissful, delirious seconds because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right. It felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing. 

It was just the timing. 

"Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused. 

"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”

"-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?” 

He blew out a breath, panic deflating, the boy visibly softening for you, and then he was wrapping his arms around back, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours.

“Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”

His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”

Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming more devastatingly lovely than you'd ever seen before, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

And he did. 

***

[dawnisdreamlanding]

CHAPTER 3

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor!au and Roommate!au

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Hey hey hey! It's been a while hahahs I actually have chapter 4 and chapter 5 planned out but i havent got the energy to write them :') All i can say is that everything in this story has been going too well right now... >:)

(Also if you have any fanfic ideas/ asks feel free to send an ask or dm me :D)

You’re waiting once again for Simon to pick you up from work. It’s now become an almost daily thing for a month now, the two of you. You’d finish work, Simon would show up in his pickup truck and occasionally the two of you would eat dinner together.

Okay, you do partially feel as if you’re cheating on Konig in some way by having dinner with your neighbor (Konig said he had a work emergency and he was going to be gone for a month or two), but your roommate wasn’t here to keep you company anymore and you weren’t willing to eat dinner alone after being so accustomed to the company you had.

Today, the atmosphere in the car seems a little different than the rest. Just a little, though. You decide not to comment on it and buckle your seatbelt before he starts driving. “How was work?” Simon would ask the usual question. “Fine,” you would reply tiredly with a sigh. The two of you would fall into a domestic routine in such a short time, yet neither of you ever really questioned it.

The patter of rain provided a relaxing white noise as the two of you sit in comfortable silence, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. The streetlamps glisten and you turn to see Simon in his balaclava that he wears only when going on missions.

“I’m going to be deployed. Tonight.” He finally breaks it to you. “Oh.” You reply, but you can’t be sure if it sounded sad or understanding. Maybe both. “Do you know when you’re coming back?” He shrugs, eyes still fixated on the road. “I’m thinkin’ 2 months at least.”

There’s another silence that follows, but this time around it’s filled with a lot of unsaid words waiting to be spoken into existence. Simon turns to look at you. God, he wishes he didn’t because the red from the traffic light paints your features in the best way, and he doesn’t think he could forget this moment anytime soon. “You’ll be fine without me yeah?” Simon finally asks. You feel like there’s a secret message lying hidden somewhere in the question by the way he looks at you, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

---

You spend your days without Simon and Konig counting. Counting how many days it’s been since they’ve been gone, and the times you accidentally cook food for two. Today marks the 2 month mark, and to be honest, you still haven’t gotten used to your apartment engulfed in darkness when you get back from work. You sigh.

---

Simon spends his days counting unconsciously. He takes another long drag from his cigarette and watches the smoke slowly disappear into the night sky outside of a bar the team decided to celebrate their victory at. It’s a little chilly. Winter is approaching, and he hopes you’re warm and tucked into your apartment right about now. Soap stands beside him, accompanying him. “You goin’ home for Christmas, L.T?” he says. Soap expects Ghost to say no, or to say something along the lines of spending the holiday alone.

Ghost gazes at the stars which is something he doesn’t really do since he was a kid and god, he swears he still sees your face as the stars twinkle. He hums. “Got a Christmas gift for someone. Gotta give it to ‘em somehow.” Soap’s taken aback at his answer but chooses not to pry too much into his private life. Not this time at least. Suddenly the bar cheers with happiness and the clinking of beer bottles. “Happy for ya, L.T.” Soap says as a small knowing smile spreads on his lips.

---

Ghost spends the time taken for the trip back to his civilian life decompressing and when he reaches home, he wants nothing more than the dinners the two of you had before he left for the mission. But he decides the moment his duffel bag hits the floor, that he really, really needs to sleep first. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about you though, cause he dreams of the moment when he picked you up from work in his pickup truck.

You’re ecstatic when Simon tells you he’s back. You prepare dinner, finally making food for two (or three, with how much this guy eats). And you’re basically skipping when Simon knocks on your door.

Dinner with Simon is calm yet filled with excitement and happiness. You both catch up on each other’s lives, and you tell him about everything he’s missed out on since he left. You tell him about the stray orange cat that found its way into your apartment once (you still have no clue how) and has now become a visitor occasionally — you leave out the part where you subconsciously named it after him.

You’re washing the dishes and Simon’s keeping the leftovers for your lunch tomorrow when the topic of long distance relationships get brought up. “I mean, it must be hard to maintain relationships, right? Especially since you don’t get to see each other for ages.” Ghost hums in agreement, a sign that you’ve learnt to understand that he’s listening to you intently. “I can’t imagine working in the military is any easier. Hell, I felt a little sad when you left too, I can’t imagine what your girlfriend would be feeling.”

“Don’t have one.” He says. And you smile a little. “Yeah, but imagine if you did. It’ll be like one of those old war movies.” You giggle at the thought and Simon joins you in washing the dishes. “Oh, my darling,” you say in an exaggerated voice of a lover. “I don’t think I could love you anymore. The pain is too much to bear!”

Your theatrics tugs the corner of Simon’s lips upwards and he looks at you softly, arching his brow. “Y’ love me?” his voice rumbles, and it sounds something akin to the taste of vanilla ice cream with caramel drizzled on top which is weird, because you’ve never really liked the taste of caramel. Well, not until now.

There’s a certain softness in this moment, you tell yourself. There’s this feeling that you don’t think you could forget this look on his face. You blink and he’s taken the soapy cutlery from your hand and starts to wash the soap off them. “I forget how much I miss my soft bed when I come back. And being able to sleep in a little longer.” He sighs and it’s your turn to hum along. “And I missed your cooking.” He says a little softer this time, eyes focusing on the bubbles as they get washed away from the water. I missed this, you think.

Taglist: @gojo-mochi

[guardianofrivendell]

Drunk in Love

Fíli x wife!reader

Requested: yes, by @carnotaurus-celeste​, back in January for my 2022 followers sleepover. Sorry it took me so long! This was a gif drabble request (that got a bit out of hand), the gif they chose is similar to the one I put underneath. 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, drunk Dwarves, adorable Fíli, not proofread

A/N: this was my last request from the January sleepover, only about 8 months late lol :) It was a way to try and get out of my writing block. Enjoy drunk Fíli! 

Still half asleep you turned on your other side, clutching the sheets and furs in an attempt to keep the warmth inside your little cocoon, and scooted over to Fíli’s side of the bed in search of his body heat.

Being married to a Dwarf meant you never had to feel cold anymore, his body your own private furnace he was more than happy for you to use at any time. Every night you fell asleep in his arms, your cheek pressed into the soft curls of his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent while you let his heartbeat guide you to the land of dreams.

But your searching fingers didn’t find the heated skin you were looking for, instead finding a cold and empty spot where your husband was supposed to be sleeping.

You opened your eyes and sat up straight, looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of Fíli. The fire was still smoldering, which meant it had to be in the early hours of the night, too early for breakfast, but too late to be waking up to an empty bed. Where was he?

Fíli and you didn’t go to bed together that night, for the first time since well… your wedding night. The reason for this change of pace was very simple: last night marked the seven year anniversary of the reclaiming of Erebor and almost five year anniversary of the rebuild, and as the newly set tradition went there was a grand feast to celebrate.

Even though you had been enjoying the festivities - the sight of the Durin family and Company members being happy and carefree warmed your heart every time - as the feast went on, you grew rather tired.

When the clock struck midnight, you’d left Fíli in the company of his brother and their friends in the Great Hall, and that’s where you probably had the most chance of finding him at this hour. Or you hoped so, because the last thing you wanted to do was roam the halls of Erebor in your nightshift in search of your husband. You could only imagine the rumors that would go around at the breakfast table! 

You stepped out of bed and shivered when the cold of the night greeted you, so you quickly let your feet glide into your thick fur boots and threw your winter robe on to cover yourself. 

Fíli was most likely still celebrating and simply lost track of time, nothing to worry about, but you couldn’t suppress the tiny voice at the back of your mind that kept repeating something was wrong.

What if he was so drunk he lost his way or he fell off one of the many bridges or stairs? When you’d suggested railings for them during one of the many construction meetings, everyone bursted out in laughter. “The first Dwarf to lose their footing on stone is yet to be born, lass,” they’d laughed, wiping the tears out of their eyes. You never thought about asking again. 

You kept your pace steady but fast, a little slower when you crossed a bridge or stairway, making sure to check every corner and every nook in case your husband decided in his drunken haze that it was a perfect place to settle for the night.  

But the hallways of Erebor were abandoned and eerily quiet, as they should be at that hour. 

As you reached the corridor that led to the Great Hall, the sounds of careless laughter and chatter swelled. The celebrations were definitely not over yet, and just like you guessed, your husband wasn’t done partying.

Fíli was standing on top of one of the long dining tables, feet firmly planted between dirty plates and empty beer mugs, his brother Kíli at the other end, their friends scattered around the table, watching them dance and perform a drinking song. 

You leaned against the heavy open door and watched the scene with mirth. Up until now you hadn’t had the pleasure to see your husband so inebriated and… well, carefree. 

“Fee, catch!” Kíli yelled and next thing you knew, one of the dirty plates flew across the table right into Fíli’s outstretched hand. The crowd surrounding them cheered and encouraged by their fans, Kíli started another song, one you knew quite well. 

Blunt the knives, bend the forks!

And just like that you were thrown back to that cozy hobbit hole in the Shire, when you’d first laid eyes on your husband,  at the time a total stranger to you. Even though the last few years had taken a toll on him - both mentally and physically - he was still as handsome as ever and he still managed to fill your belly with butterflies as his rich baritone filled the great hall. 

Both brothers had some difficulties getting the song right, their words slurred and lyrics in the wrong order but there was no denying they were having the time of their lives. By the time the song had ended the tableware stood perfectly stacked in the center of the table and everyone in the hall burst out in laughter and applause. 

You applauded along with everyone else and it didn’t take long for Fíli’s eyes to meet yours. 

“Amrâlimê!” he exclaimed, his face splitting in a wide toothy smile, his mustache braids dangling under his nose as he moved towards you. They’d grown a few inches in the past years and you wondered if he would keep them as they were, or maybe start braiding them into his beard. 

Fíli threw his arms around you and lifted you from the ground, spinning you both around until he started to sway and he had to let you go in order to grab the door frame. 

“Everyone! Thiz iz my wife!” he yelled, throwing an arm around your waist.  “Kíli!! Come and meet my w-wife!”

You had to hold back a laugh. “Fíli, your brother knows who I am. Everyone here knows me.” 

Fíli’s eyes widened at that and his features turned from incredibly happy to heartbroken in a matter of seconds. You patted his chest in an attempt to comfort him, but it made him stumble again and you quickly grabbed a nearby chair for him to sit on. 

With a heavy sigh he let himself drop in the chair, arms crossed and with an incredibly adorable pout on his lips. There was nothing you wanted to do more than kiss it away and make him smile again, but you were in a crowded Great Hall wearing a robe and your nightclothes. Not the best place. 

“What’s wrong, yasthûnê?” (my husband)

He crossed his arms. “How come they all knew you before I did?”

You couldn’t help it. You giggled. You hadn’t giggled in you don’t know how long, always thinking it was for dainty girls with golden curls and rosy cheeks. But drunk Fíli was hilarious. And cute, very very cute. 

At the sound of your giggle he lifted his head to look at you and his mouth fell open. 

“Mahal, you’re gorg- gorsh- groce-,” he tried to get the word out but his tongue betrayed him every time, until he gave up with a frustrated groan. “You’re really prrrretty, you know zat?”

“Yes Fíli, you tell me every day.”

“Your huzband iz one lucky Dwarf,” he hiccuped, his smile dropping when he clearly believed you were out of his reach. There was no use in trying to let him know he was the husband he was talking about and that he had referred to you as his wife not even five minutes ago, clearly too far gone now. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” you said, cupping his cheek. He placed his hand over yours to keep it there and closed his eyes, clearly enjoying your touch. 

It gave you time to look around the Great Hall, your eyes roaming around the room until they spotted the Dwarf you were looking for. 

Kíli was still standing on top of the table, belting out some Elvish song - or something that was supposed to resemble Elvish, you couldn’t decipher a single word. You gestured towards Bofur, asking him to take care of the youngest Durin and to make sure someone helped him get to his chambers safely. Both of them were lucky Thorin wasn’t here to see them like this. 

Bofur chuckled as he saw the state Fíli was in. “D’you need help with your lad as well?”

You shook your head, “I got it covered, thank you.”

Fíli’s hand dropped in his lap and you thought he fell asleep for a moment, until he let out a disappointed grunt when you removed your hand from his cheek. 

“Come on handsome, let’s get you to bed,” you smiled, helping him get to his feet. Fíli groaned, finally realizing how tired he was. 

“Fine, ‘m going to bed wiz you,” he gave in, before he let his voice drop to a whisper. Well, you were sure he thought he was whispering, in reality he was shouting the whole corridor awake. “But my wife won’t like this!”

It took you almost half an hour to get him to your chambers, shushing him every time he tried to sing and guiding him in the right direction when he tried to wander off. By the time you finally reached your chamber doors, your back was covered in sweat and Fíli was getting clingy. 

Undressing your husband was something you’d normally like to take slowly, enjoying the sight of every newly uncovered patch of skin, caressing it with a kiss or featherlight touch until goosebumps appeared while you worked to get every piece of clothing on the ground. Now however, you couldn’t work fast enough. 

You left him bare chested but still in his breeches, relieved you were finally able to get to sleep again as you gently pushed him towards the bed. And that’s when Fíli started to resist.

“Miss, I’ll have you know that I’m a married man… Dwarf,” he muttered, voice already thick with sleep. “I love my wife very muts- oof!”

You’d pushed him on the bed and before he had the chance to get up again, you grabbed his legs and lifted them onto the mattress. As soon as his head hit the pillow and his body sank into the fluffy covers of the mattress, he sighed in contentment. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

The furs you’d left on the bed earlier would keep him warm during the night, even though you didn’t think he would need it. You quickly ran to the bathroom to fetch a bucket, in case he would get sick during the night and placed a pitcher with water on his bedside table. 

You watched him lay there for a few seconds, completely at peace, not a single sign of stress on his face. The deep crease between his brows was gone, the tension in his neck nowhere to be seen. 

You couldn’t resist and gently wiped a few loose hairs from his forehead. Fíli opened his eyes, blinking a few times in slow motion so he could focus on your face and a lazy smile appeared when he recognized you. 

He lifted his head and placed a soft peck on your lips.

“Mahal, you’re beautiful,” he whispered and returned the gesture, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “So beautiful.” 

“Fíli-”

“Ssshhh,” he shushed you, pressing his finger on your lips. “Don’t tell my wife.”

You chuckled as you tucked him in and kissed his forehead, not even surprised to hear his soft snores again. 

“I’m pretty sure she already knows,” you whispered before you crawled next to him. 

You couldn’t wait to tell him all about it in the morning.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @the-banannah​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @elvish-sky​ @moony-artnstuff​ @kirenia15​ @vicmackeybullshxt​ @hey-its-nonny​ @beenovel​ @cassiabaggins​ @shethereadinghobbit​ @justfollowtheroad​ @laurfilijames​ @fizzyxcustard​ @brokennerdalert​ @linasofia​ @naimadrawsstuff​ @errruvande​ @amaryllis23​ @enchantzz​ @narniaandthenorth @sketch-and-write-lover​ @blairsanne​ @ruthoakenshield​ @midearthwritings​ @alone19-24 @medusas-hairband​ @ren-ni​ @kyramaximoff​ @megnotfound​ @middleearthpixie​ @aduialel​ @tree0frog​ @trappedinlimbo15​

Fíli taglist:  @bluewingedangel​ @spidergirla5​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @clumsy-wonderland​ @i-always-come-back-xoxo​