#like don’t get my hopes up and then pull the rug out from under me! I get excited about my items!

[victory-cookies]

my pakige…

[lovelybucky1]

Little Red

warnings: dubcon, fem!reader, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, age gap, breeding, 18+ minors dni // divider by @strangergraphics

You know it isn’t safe to walk alone in the forest. The trees are dense, the paths are windy, and dangerous animals lurk in the underbrush, stalking their prey. You convince yourself that you’ll be fine; you’re only taking a short walk to your grandmother’s house with a basket of treats. Technically you’ve never made the trek by yourself before, but it can’t be that hard, can it?

You were overly confident when you walked into the woods, but you were quickly humbled when you got turned around. You came to an intersection of paths and you couldn’t remember which to take, so you took your best guess. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one. As luck would have it, it started to rain during your walk, leaving your cloak, dress, and shoes soaked. You’re cold, uncomfortable, and lost.

After a mile or so more of walking in your wet socks, you stumble across a house. It isn’t your grandmother’s cottage with the lush garden in the front, but a log cabin with an overgrown lawn. You figure that someone inside must be able to give you directions, so you walk up to the door and knock.

At first, there’s no answer, so you try again. You can hear some shuffling from inside and you nervously squeeze some water out of your cloak as you wait for the person to greet you. When the door opens, a large man appears, blocking your view inside the house.

“What do you want?” the man asks with a gruff, slightly irritated voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I got lost on the way to my grandmother’s house. Could you point me in the right direction?” you ask. You feel intimidated by the man’s intense eyes, but you hope your nerves don’t come across in your voice.

The man opens the door wider and steps out, allowing you a better look at him. He is in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in a week. His hair is a little wild, along with the look in his eyes. He’s undeniably handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack kind of way. You can tell even from under his shirt that he has muscles, and you have to stop your mind from picturing them.

The man raises a thick eyebrow at you as he takes in your appearance. You’re too distracted to notice the way he licks his lips.

“A little girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he says.

“I know, sir, but I thought I knew where I was going,” you say, feeling embarrassed to explain your lack of direction to a stranger.

He sighs through his nose and opens the door wide enough for you to squeeze past. “Get out of the rain ‘fore you catch a cold.”

Accepting the kind invite, you walk inside the cabin. It’s cozy inside, with not much more than a bed in the corner, a wood stove, and a dining table. Books, candles, and bottles were strewn around, making the place look well-lived.

The man pulls out a chair at the table for you and you sit down. Wordlessly, he pulls your cloak over your head and drapes it near the woodstove to dry. The cabin is thankfully warm, and your frozen hands start to thaw. You quietly thank him, then introduce yourself. In return, he tells you his name is Logan, but he doesn’t offer any more information than that.

“You want some tea to warm you up?” he asks, and that rough voice is music to your ears.

“That would be great.”

He pours you a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the woodstove and you accept it gratefully. The tea is a bit too hot and burns your tongue, but the warmth inside your belly is still welcome. He watches you intently as you drink it, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.” He doesn’t smile, but he gives you a soft kind of look. “It’s nice in here,” you say, looking around at the cabin’s interior.

“Don’t get many visitors,” he says.

“I doubt you get lost girls on your doorstep very often,” you joke.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he says, finally cracking a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had something as sweet as you.”

The comment strikes you as odd, but before you can think too much about it, he sits down next to you. You get a closer look at his scruffy facial hair, his slightly wild eyes, and his teeth. When he opens his mouth to place his cigar inside, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth. They’re a lot sharper than your own, sharper than any you’ve ever seen on a person before. They intrigue you, and you want to get a closer look but your view is blocked by the end of his cigar being put into his mouth.

He must catch you staring at his mouth, because he gives you a small smirk around the cigar as he lights it.

“I really should get going,” you say, putting your empty mug down on the table.

“You only just got here,” he says. He places his hand on your wrist, gently pinning it to the table. “You’re still cold.”

You shiver at the feeling of his large, warm hand on your still-clammy skin but you try to brush it off. “My grandmother’s expecting me. I don’t want her to think anything bad happened to me.”

Through a puff of smoke, Logan says, “but something bad did happen to you.” You furrow your brows in confusion. “You got lost in the woods and wandered into a stranger’s house for safety.”

His grip on your wrist tightens and fear starts to build in your stomach. He grins at you, but it’s not a kind look. It’s sharp and predatory, like he’s about to eat you whole.

“Please let go,” you whisper.

“You’re mine now, dollface. I’m not lettin’ you get away.” You try to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong. “Even if you did run, you don’t know where you’re going. There’s monsters a lot worse than me out there, y’know.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races to figure out how to get out of this situation. You’re in the middle of nowhere, well and truly lost, and the only person around is the man currently bruising your arm.

“Monsters that would rip a pretty thing like you to pieces. Not me, though. I know how to appreciate a delicate little flower.”

Logan stands up and tugs you to your feet. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you in front of him. You don’t bother trying to move because you know your efforts will be futile and likely will anger him. He looks down at you hungrily, and this time, you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth.

“Your teeth are so sharp,” you whisper.

Logan grins. “You like ‘em, sweetheart?” As afraid as you are, you do like them. “You wanna feel ‘em?”

Hesitantly and with a trembling hand, you reach up and touch the point of his tooth with the pad of your finger. The tooth is blunt enough not to pierce your skin, but you’re certain that if he bit down, he’d have no trouble drawing blood.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, as if you weren’t well aware of that fact.

Logan grasps your wrist and brings your hand back down to your side, pinning it there. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before leaning in close to you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

His lips touch before his teeth, but the feeling is unmistakable. It’s a hot, painful pinch but he’s obviously restraining himself because you don’t feel a trickle of blood running down your neck.

You gasp and try to move away from him, but his hold on you is too strong. He chuckles against your skin and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs.

Logan’s hands wander from your waist to underneath your skirt. He pushes it up around your middle and he leans back so he can catch a glimpse of your panties. He growls low in his throat when he sees the scrap of pink cotton between your thighs.

He’s not even holding you anymore, but you’re frozen in place. You know you should be afraid. You are afraid of the man who's been threatening to eat you, but your body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as your mind. Fear and a strange sense of arousal mix in your stomach, and the feeling is only strengthened by the hungry look in Logan’s eyes. He sniffs the air, and a smirk forms on his lips.

His fingers toy at the elastic band of your panties before they slip beneath them. Your pussy is traitorously wet and Logan is delighted to learn this.

“You got a needy cunt, huh, doll?” he asks. You shake your head, but there’s really no use denying it. “Seems to me like you do.”

He pushes the fabric of your panties entirely to the side, exposing you to the air. He strokes over your lips with his fingers, and he slowly pushes his middle finger in. You take a shaky inhale at the feeling, and you pray your knees don’t give out.

“She takes me so easy. This isn’t why you came here, is it? Put on this whole act just to get this pussy played with?”

“No!” you whine. “My grandmother really is waiting for me.”

“Forget about her. Just you ‘nd me now.”

He pulls his finger out of you and wipes your wetness on the side of your thigh. He then bends down to lift you off the ground. He’s so strong and you’re powerless to do anything to stop him from carrying you over to the mattress in the corner of the cabin.

He lays you down and covers your body with his own before you can attempt to crawl away. He grabs your ankles and bends your legs so your pussy is presented to him. His finger returns inside of you, thrusting and stroking your inner walls.

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans, not wanting him to hear how much you’re enjoying this. You don’t want to be enjoying this, but he knows all the right places to touch you.

He works a second, then third finger inside you. Your arousal makes the slide easy, but this is the widest you’ve ever been stretched before. If he thinks you need three of his thick fingers to be open enough for his cock, you’re nervous for what’s to come.

“This ain’t your first time, is it, kid?” he asks fondly as he brushes his thumb on your clit, just enough to tease.

You’re afraid to answer his question. If you lie and say it isn’t, then he might go rougher on you. If you tell him you’re a virgin, however, it might awaken a different kind of beast.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, bet no one’s been in here before. That right, baby? You can tell me.”. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, your belly burning with shame and desperation. “Fuck,” he growls. “‘Course you fuckin’ are.”

He removes his fingers from your cunt and works open his fly, not caring that your wetness is getting on the denim of his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to free his cock from his boxers. Your fears have come true, and he is fucking huge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” he says as he grasps his dick and strokes it. “You’ve been so good for me.”

He positions himself at your entrance and hits his cock on your clit a few times. You jolt at the contact, but the stretch of it inside of you is more shocking. Luckily, he stops once the tip of it is inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.

“How’s it feel, dollface?” he asks.

“Good,” you squeak out. It does feel good, but it’s not enough. You’ve felt empty since he pulled his fingers out of you and you need to be full again.

“Can you take the rest or do I need to fuck you like this?” he says, pulling the tip out just to push it back in. You let out an involuntary moan which encourages him to do it again. He gives you shallow little thrusts which don’t do much for him, but have you whining pathetically. “All this just for the tip? The whole thing’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Please give it to me,” you say hurriedly, before the humiliation can catch up with you.

“Yeah?” he asks, cocky. “You were so scared before, but now you’re beggin’ for it?”

He slowly pushes in further, feeding your hungry pussy the rest of his cock. His tip hits your cervix before he bottoms out, and you whimper at the contact.

“Little puss can’t take all of me. Fuckin’ adorable,” he says as if he’s talking to himself.

He begins to fuck you, making sure not to go too deep and hurt you. If your mind wasn’t so clouded with pleasure, you’d find it odd that this monster is making an effort to be careful with you. You expect him to push in without any prep or worry for your comfort.

“Squeezin’ the fucking life outta me,” he growls. His hands grip your hips possessively and he uses them to control his thrusts. “Virgin cunt’s always been my favorite.”

You wonder how many times he’s done this; taken a lost girl’s virginity just because she wandered up to his door. You wonder what kind of state he’s going to leave you in, if you’ll be able to walk away or if you’ll have to stay in his bed while you recover.

“Fuck,” you curse, accidentally letting it slip when he bumps you cervix.

“That’s a dirty word, sweetheart. Am I making you feel that good?”

He’s making your fucking head spin, that’s how good he is. You don’t have more than your fingers to compare him to, but having someone else bully their way into you is so much better than your own fingers that can’t reach deep enough.

“Yes, fuck, Logan.”

“Keep fuckin’ begging for me, angel. I’ll give it to you good.”

He moves his hand onto the mattress next to your head and he braces himself on it. The new position gives him leverage to fuck into you, rutting quick and hard. The slap of skin against skin sounds like thunder in your head, and the flash of his white teeth is the lightning.

His cock is reshaping your pussy, making room for him to sit comfortably inside of you. He is claiming you in every sense of the word, and you’re happy to surrender yourself to him as long as he keeps making you feel this way.

“You were fucking made for me. My little girl, feelin’ so fucking good around me,” he mutters.

Logan’s pace gets progressively quicker and rougher, and he’s getting more animalistic. He’s growling and panting above you, and that wild look in his eyes is back. Like this, he looks exactly like the monsters from the stories you were told as a kid. Feral, aggressive, preying on innocent girls, taking virgins from their families. You’re not scared anymore, though. You’re being throughly fucked by the big bad wolf, and you’re feeling the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

Logan moves so his elbows are bracketing your head and his chest is flush against yours. He fucks you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. You manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling.

“Good girl, keep cumming for me,” he praises. “Knew you were gonna be the perfect mate.”

His words don’t register in your hazy mind until it’s too late. He’s grunting, growling out your name as he shoots his seed as deep inside of you as it’ll go. Your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you.

He rides out the waves of pleasure, but he doesn’t pull out of you even when he’s finished. He’s still on top of you, pinning you down but having enough mind not to crush you under his weight. His cum is plugged inside you, prevented from spilling out.

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, there is silence. The rain outside has stopped, and the only sound from inside is the mix of your breathing, both quickened from exertion.

You’re not sure how long it is until Logan sits up and pulls out of you, but it feels like ages. You’re boneless and tired, having had every bit of energy and pleasure drained from your body.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he smiles down at you. He moves to lay next to you on the bed, turning your body so he can slot himself behind you. He pulls you flush to his chest and you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

“So good,” you attempt to say, but it comes out a slurred mess.

He chuckles softly at that. “Get some sleep. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You don’t know what he means by that, but you decide you don’t care right now. You fall asleep listening to the loud, steady beat of his heart.

And what a stupid little lamb you are, turning your back on the wolf who’s wanted to eat you since he first laid eyes on you.

[rafecameroninterlude]

can you do like a spin off to the fic you did where rafe went to the strip club, and instead of them making up y/n stands on business and leaves 😭? thank you if you do i love your writing smmm

warnings: angst, cheating

a/n: i heard y’all loud and clear, i hope you guys like this version just as much, if not more <3 based off of this request

“fuck, they don’t make them like this on figure eight.” you watched with watery eyes as rafe’s hands roamed the body of a stranger, his friends hollering in the background. seeing rafe receive a lap dance should’ve been enough for you to click out of instagram and call it quits, but you couldn’t help yourself in watching the rest of kelce’s stories. after skimming through the rest of the photos and videos, you didn’t have any tears left in you to cry.

getting up on shaky legs, you took everything you could fit in a suitcase, ignoring the calls from rafe as you went around your shared bedroom, grabbing your things. just as you were taking your last bag downstairs, the front door opened, revealing the last person you wanted to face right now. “what’s all of this?” your head shot up at the voice, your lips swollen from biting on them so hard. “what’s wrong?” he moved close, making you back away.

“please don’t touch me.” your voice came out weak. rafe scoffed, blinking rapidly as you took a seat on the couch, holding your head in your hands. “what’s wrong with you? why do you have all your shit down here?” he kneeled in front of you, the smell of cheap perfume filling your senses. “you should probably remind your friends to hide me from their story ‘next time you want to let someone put their boobs in your face.” you sniffled, avoiding his gaze.

rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he reached for your arm. “baby, please, i can explain everything.” you smiled, shaking your head. “you don’t have to. i really don’t care anymore, i’m leaving.” he narrowed his eyes at you, stumbling over his next words. “w-what the fuck are you talking about?” he grabbed two of your bags, about to take them upstairs before you stopped him. “this isn’t the first time you’ve been unfaithful, rafe, and if i don’t leave right now, it won’t be the last.” your voice cracked.

he shook his head, jogging upstairs, only to see you had cleared everything that belonged to you. rafe’s heart dropped, it looked like you had never been here to begin with. panic settled in his gut. “you can’t leave, i won’t let you.” he came back down, his eyes filled with guilt. “i already have a car on the way.” rafe shouted, punching the air. “y/n, i’m begging you baby, please let’s just go to bed-” you watched him cry, and for the first time you felt nothing. “we’ll forget all about this in the morning, alright? i’ll take you somewhere nice for breakfast, we could spend the day on the druthers the way that you like.” by the way he was talking, it sounded like he was reassuring himself more than you.

“and sweep it under the rug just like the last few times? no.” you laughed bitterly. “you cheat and time and time again i don’t do anything about it. i’m so tired, rafe. ‘tired of hearing the women at the country club call me ‘dumb and clueless’, i’m tired of everyone giving me pitiful looks everytime we walk inside a room.. i’m tired of not being valued.” you looked down at your hand, removing the promise ring that clearly didn’t mean anything.

“hey, hey, come on,” he pulled you up, “i value you, you know i do. i get you everything you want, goddamit, i take care of you!” you flinched at the volume of his voice. “i could get myself whatever i want rafe. all i’ve ever wanted was for you to be faithful, and you can’t even do that.” he watched as you glanced outside. “my ride is here.” he blinked, everything hitting him all at once. “y/n, stop.” he held you in place, not allowing you to move until you shoved him.

“there’s someone out there who is going to love me, and care about my feelings in all situations, someone who isn’t selfish.” you started rolling your suitcase out of the house, rafe following closely behind. “please don’t leave!” he ran his fingers through his hair. he begged and begged until you held the very last bag in your hand. “i hope one day you meet someone like yourself, fall in love with them, and realize that no matter what you do, it will never be enough.” he watched you get into the black suv, feeling nothing but despair as the car drove away.

[babygirl-riley]

Hi I have a request so it’s like Simon and his wife arguing pretty badly like to the point where she’s shouting bare at him she’s on the verge of tears and while their arguing their new born cries so the reader goes upstairs to the crying baby once their baby is calm she doesn’t even go back downstairs to talk to him she just like stays in the baby room and goes on her social media to distract her self from Simon.

Hii so I have this written in my notes I always do that so I don’t forgot what I’m gonna ask and I hope this is what u meant tho cause im so slow it acc took me bare long to understand 😭

Quiet Home

You and Simon have been back to back arguments. Before you both could finish this one a loud cry interrupted the fight.

A/N: this is exactly what you asked for 😭 So embarrassing truly 💀 However this really tugged the heartstrings

“I want to be close to you, but I don't know what to do.'Cause if we are near to through, it may make it worse.”

Warnings: baby blues, depression, anger, arguments, fighting, yelling, screaming, baby crying, swearing, soft!simon, husband!simon, happy ending

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You were exhausted, you would clean, go get groceries, wake up every hour with the newborn, and everything in between. Usually you had Simon right beside you and help you with the smallest things. However, duty calls. Price promised Simon a couple months leave however, it was an emergency.

When Simon first brought it up, you knew he saw the rolling of the eyes but you brushed it off. Simon brought it up later and you just tried to push it away. Eventually it blew up. Things were said and yelled that weren’t meant to come out. Simon slept in a different room and he was gone for a couple of weeks.

You didn’t answer his calls but text him updates. It was petty but it’s a petty time. You were promised to have your husband here with both your child. Yet you are here almost falling asleep anytime it was early in the morning to feed the baby. You sat outside of the room of your baby as she bailed and bailed, being irritated and tired. Eventually you would go in sure but you were so scared that you would yell at her for being a baby.

After the couple of weeks you tried to brush it under the rug as you made Simon’s favorite dinner. Knowing he would be home. He text you stating that he will be home around 7 o clock and he was excited to see both you and the baby. 7 went to 8, 8 went to 9, 9 went to 10, 10 went to 11, and so on. The food went cold and baby was down. Especially you were tired.

You already put the food away and sat in the living room. You watched the clock before you angrily got up and started the bath. You needed to cool down. You heard the heavy footsteps heading down the hall. You rolled your eyes with the clock read 1 AM.

Simon noticed the light beaming through the room you both shared. Inhaling deeply he stepped in and rounding into the bathroom. You stood with a robe on and touching the warm water.

“S’rry ‘m late.” He said watching your movements.

“Okay.” You said not looking at him.

He frowned and shook his head. “I had a ton of paperwork and didn’t notice the time. Thought I had enough time.”

You didn’t say nothing as you went to the cabinet and pulled out your favorite salts for the bath. Simon watched as you poured them in and went back to put it away. “Y/n please.”

“Please what Simon? You were late. You weren’t here. Shit happens right? Emergencies happen. It’s whatever at this point.” You scoffed as you finally looked at him.

Simon noticed the anger in your eyes. He was upset that he left without resolving the last fight. He was upset that when he called you didn’t want to talk. He was upset he wasn’t home when he was supposed to be and not seeing his babygirl. He also noticed you are tired. Exhausted even. The bags. The purple shade underneath your eyes. “It’s my job you knew that when you signed up for it.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You don’t think I know that? Don’t you dare throw that in my face Simon. We were promised a break for our child yet he drags you back and you are willing to without a second glance.”

“Really? It goes back to me not carin’ about our family huh? That’s what you said before I left. You think I care more about my job than us.”

“Yes! Yes I do! I think that you are stuck in a loop without anyone but you! You are fine with just going instead of being here!” You yelled starting to walk out and brushing passed Simon.

“It’s my job! I have to go! I can’t leave my team behind!” He yelled back following you.

You scoffed as you ripped your robe off, ripping open your drawers. “Right but you can do it to us.” You mumbled pulling out sweats and a t-shirt.

“What’s that supp’se to mean?” He basically growled.

You snapped up and looked at him. “Ever since Millie was born it was like you have been gone. You will help yes but how long did that last before you skipped your happy ass to Price,” You yelled pulling the sweats up as you felt a sting of tears coming. You laughed as you heard nothing from him. “I have been doing this by myself with no help! Nothing Simon!”

“That’s not fair! How many times do I have to say it’s my fuckin’ job…”

“You have a job here!” You screamed as tears started to spill and right before anyone could say anything a wail broke through the air.

You both stood there for a minute before you raked your fingers through your hair. You wiped your eyes angrily. “Damn it,” You pulled your shirt on before walking out, grabbing your phone on the dresser. “I am sleeping in the other room.” You slammed the door shut before walking to the baby’s room.

You opened it as Millie screamed louder. You cried as you walked closer that turns to a sob. You didn’t know what to do. How to do it. You don’t know how to keep her asleep and fed and changed without being upset. You gripped the crib hard as you couldn’t move. You were tired and your baby needs you. “I’m sorry,” You cried as you picked her up and shushed her softly. “I know I know.”

You sat in the rocking chair as you let your baby fed. You scrolled on social media seeing all the happy couples. All what they are doing. All your friends looking like they don’t have problems. You missed Simon, not like he changed, just his touch, he soft voice when he whispers I love you. You missed his laugh when you both would have that marriage banter. You missed his tea.

You are afraid that maybe having a kid was a bad idea. That it ruined or tainted everything. You looked at your baby and inhaled. How could you think like that? What has she done to make you feel that way? It seemed like anytime Simon was around you were angry. Small arguments that turned into this. Your lip trembled and you held your baby closer to your chest. Tears prickling your eyes.

You threw your phone on the ground and sobbed. You were a monster. How could a mother think like that? Why would a wife yell at her husband for doing his job? You kept thinking about all the bad things that happened or been thought of that you didn’t notice that your baby was being scooped up.

When the cold air touched your skin, you opened your eyes panicked. You thought you dropped her as you looked down with tears blinding you before you felt a hand on your cheek. You snapped your eyes to see Simon, holding your baby girl close to his chest as she was asleep. “Baby,” He whispered concerned on his face. He was kneeling as he wiped tears after tears. “Come on let me put her to bed and let’s go talk please.”

“No,” You mumbled as you stood up. “I got her.”

Simon stood up and shook his head. “Please, you look tired.”

“I-I no she needs me.” You whispered but made no move to grab her.

“She has me too,” He said quietly. “Go to the kitchen please.”

You stared for a moment and looked at your baby. How small she was compared to him. How secure she looks when he was holding her. You nodded as you wiped more of the tears away. “Okay.”

Guilt pinged your chest as you glanced once to see him bouncing a bit as he slowly put her down. You walked into the kitchen and sat at the island as quiet tears slipped. You are tired you felt your body relax and felt heavy. “Baby,” You snapped your head up and saw Simon holding a kettle. “Do you want tea?”

You nodded once and looked away. It was quiet as he face the kettle waiting for it to go off. “I’m still mad at you.” You mumbled.

Simon nodded as he turned to lean against the counter. “Why is that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Simon you know why.”

Simon walked up and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Y/n I’m not doin’ it to hurt you two.”

You froze for a moment before looking away. Thoughts of how it could be different with him not having the damn job. However, he was right he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. “I told Price to call someone else but…he needed me for what I know.” You slowly looked at him as Simon looked the other direction. “I fought the old man about it for days. I didn’ say nothin’ cause I knew you would be upset. I didn’t notice that I was pushing you and our princess away. Just-just tried to figure out how to get out of it…I’m sorry.”

Now you felt even more bad. He tried to fight not to go and fought for the two of you. You inhaled but don’t exhaled afraid of sobbing once more. The moment Simon looked at you, you sobbed and hid your face with your hands. “I didn’t-I’m so sorry Simon.”

Simon walked around and shook his head as he turned the chair to gently pull you on for a hug. “Baby I should have said something and not fought it alone.”

You sobbed and sobbed as everything came down. “I’m so tired Si. I am tired of being awake so damn early. I am tired of cooking. I am tired of not being able to do anything. I am tired of fighting with you. I am sorry Simon. I should have been m-more understanding. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to marry such a bitch. I have been so ru…”

He gently pushed you off to grab your wrists to show your face. Simon smiled softly before grabbing your chin with his thumb and finger. “I know. I know. You been overwhelmed with so much. We will figure it out yeah? It’s okay, we are fine. I married you for you even when it’s rocky. It won’t always be perfect.”

You calmed down a bit as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

The kettle goes off as Simon kissed your forehead to walk over. You sat still as Simon came around. “I will be here right now, try my best to help you my love.”

You looked up and saw him, his eyes glowing with love. You inhaled and nodded as he pulled you back into his chest. You snuggled in and felt warmth throughout your body. God no one deserves Simon Riley.

[nincompoopydoo]

hi i have a req for your vday celebration for this line 'have you no compassion for my poor nerves? ’ for theseus scamander!! going on a trip with newt looking for some new mythical creature to draw and you somehow get injured and theseus gets worried so like angst + fluff pls

IN SEARCH OF A GRECIAN BEAST

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Reader WORD COUNT: 1.1k SUMMARY: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don't turn out as expected. A/N: An angsty yet light-hearted fic in a way. Hope you guys love this lil Theseus one-shot~ WARNINGS: near drowning. angst. Newt literally has no compassion when he’s excited about his beasts lol. PROMPT: “Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?” [from this prompt list] MASTERLIST

“Pray, Theseus, allow yourself a respite! Quit moaning and come with us,” you whine with an exaggerated, sarcastic tone as you trudge down the rocky slope that leads to a stretch of golden sand. Newt is way ahead, feet already on the sand as he scuttles across the rugged coastline that looks upon the Aegean Sea.

Theseus huffs at your words, watching the way your linen top billows in the sea breeze, gleaming under the scorching summer sun. He decides he has no other choice than to follow begrudgingly. He stumbles on his feet, shells crunching at contact, and sees you looking back at him, eyes bright. The curve of your smile goes unnoticeable.

“I thought we were meant to be on holiday,” he calls out to you and his brother.

You merely laugh, and Newt responds without turning back, “Nobody mentioned a holiday, Theseus.”

Theseus scoffs, “Well, I presumed it was, considering you invited me to Greece. Of all places!”

Without warning, you abruptly halt, swiftly turning to face him.

“We find ourselves on this beautiful, secluded Grecian beach, and you're complaining?” You gesture to your surroundings in big movements, arms moving in sweeping motions.

You’re right, he’s being dramatic. Perhaps he finds himself a little sceptical towards your shenanigans with Newt. How you were always closer to his brother than him, even though he never dared admit it to himself that he wished it was the other way around.

Theseus is silent when you fix him with a stern gaze, nearing him. “All I’m saying is, you should loosen up a little.”

There it is. That glint in your stare. It’s hopeful.

Theseus realised long ago that he would do anything for you and be anything you wanted him to be.

“I am loose. I can be loose.”

Your laugh comes off more like a scoff. You don’t believe him one bit. “Right.”

Then, your fist connects with his arm. It’s playful, just like old times. Theseus winces, his palm instinctively rubbing his bicep as he shoots you a maddened look. Despite the irritation etched on his face, the subtle curve on his lips betrays it.

You laugh again. It’s light and sends his heart thrumming faster than ever. 

“Come on –”

"Look!" newt exclaims, his voice ringing out excitedly. “Over there.” He points toward the shore with the widest grin Theseus has ever seen.

You immediately grip Theseus’ wrist, pulling him along as you dash towards Newt.

“Hippocamps,” you breathe out, merely a whisper, eyes trained on the clear waters beyond.

Theseus turns to you and clocks on your wide-eyed gaze. Your mouth hangs slightly agape in utter awe as you take in the scene unravelling before you. Glints of deep blue swirl under the crystal waters, their scales glistening like scattered glitter under the Grecian sun.

Then, you release your hold on his hand. 

“I’m going in.”

The brothers snap their heads to you, “What?”

You turn to Theseus, “I know these creatures better than anyone. You know that.” Then, your gaze shifts to Newt, “Even more than you, Newt.”

A beat. He sees that you’re now looking at him expectantly as if you need his assurance. That he trusts you. He really doesn’t know why you need it.

“Just… be careful.”

You purse your lips and nod. “I will.”

The waves lap rhythmically as you approach the waters cautiously, gentling wading through and towards the Hippocampi. The water rises to your waist. You catch a hint of a tail under the sunlight, iridescent and reflecting the ocean's blue and green hues.

You take a deep breath – the key is to be calm. Extremely calm. You extend your palm, luminous kelp in your grasp, hoping to lure the creature.

Then, its head emerges from the waters, a horse for a head. The creature curiously eyes the kelp in your hand as you watch in controlled excitement as the others drift closer. You cannot help but smile.

Yet, something beneath you rumbles. It’s so slight that you almost miss it. But it sends a rippling uneasiness to your surroundings that it alarms the creatures. The air shifts, and before you know it, the Hippocampi sense an unseen threat and quickly disappear into the ocean.

Your smile drops.

You see it, a sleek form of green drifting in the depths beneath you. It glides through the water with stealth.

Ashore, Theseus senses your concern. “Something’s wrong.”

Then, he sees you turn to them with panicked eyes.

Abruptly, the water erupts with a powerful surge, and a beast rises from the depths and leaps into the air. Its mane of waterweed cascades with its movement.

It’s a Kelpie.

Newt and Theseus watch in stunned silence.

As the Kelpie vanishes beneath the waves, you’re gone.

Theseus’ heart drops.

Instinctively, Theseus calls your name, charging towards the place you stood moments before. In his sprint, he throws a quick, urgent glance over his shoulder at Newt, who scrambles closely behind, his expression etched with mirrored exasperation.

“Why in Godric’s name is a Kelpie doing here?!”

“That’s a good question –”

Theseus isn’t listening anymore. He can’t think right now, his heart pounding fiercely. Each step intensifies the knot in his stomach.

He finds himself slicing through the waves and propelled beneath the surface. His vision goes blur momentarily; elusive silhouettes move around him like drifting shadows. But as his eyes begin to take focus, he sees Newt, a feet away, seemingly going after the Kelpie.

Theseus whirls around, eyes scanning his surroundings.

He sees you, conscious. You’re looking at him with wide eyes, struggling to stay afloat.

Theseus closes in, and he reaches out, arms enveloping you. With a forceful pull, you are brought to the surface, head heavy against his chest. Your sharp gasp pierces the air, it resonates loudly, but it settles a sense of relief in Theseus.

As you’re pulled to shore, you’re induced into a coughing fit, water forcefully expelling from your lips. Theseus hovers above you, his hand on the back of your head, lifting it from the ground in an attempt to ease your choking. His other palm rests against your cheek firmly.

He says your name, his voice laced with reassurance, yet his gaze lingers with a perpetual panic as he hovers above you, the sunlight casting a halo through his tousled hair. Theseus looks truly distressed.

“Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?!” he exclaims, exasperated in all his dramatic and uptight glory.

“Just… trying to keep you on your… toes, that’s all,” you manage to croak out.

Theseus's laugh passes off as an exhale and grins, shaking his head. Quickly, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You instantly feel your cheeks start to burn.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You just smile. “No promises.”

Then, laughter echoes in the distance. Both of you turn to find Newt emerging from the shore, eyes bright.

"That was incredible!"

[jennay]

My Best Friend

Noah Sebastian x reader

Part Two

Summary: Reader goes through a break up and Noah does Noah things.

Master List

The gravel crunches under your shoes as you ascend Noah’s driveway. Your skin prickles, as if it’s trying to escape the confines of your body. The air feels heavy, suffocating, and you’re torn between wanting to kick something, hit something, or simply collapse into a heap of tears. It’s a symphony of emotions—anger, betrayal, and a dash of disbelief.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You thought you were in a cozy rom-com, complete with candlelit dinners and shared playlists. But reality just pulled the rug out from under you, leaving you sprawled on the floor of your own heartbreak.

And the worst part? Everyone else saw it coming. They waved red flags like semaphore signals, but you were too busy dancing in the fog of infatuation.

You even told your friends, “It won't be serious and if it is we will move slow.” But Michael? He came with baggage—suitcases, trunks, and emotional carry-ons. A tortured soul with unresolved trauma, dragging dread behind him like a shadow.

As you stand there, staring at the door, you wonder if it’s too late to turn back. It was going to be embarrassing asking Noah if you could move back in.

You open the door and quietly enter the house stopping at the side of the couch where Noah sits. He looks up at you with a soft smile. “You ok?” He asks even though he knows you aren’t. He scrunches his face and pats the sofa next to him, “Come sit, tell me what happened.”

“He said he knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to work. We were both too damaged. He was using me to get over someone else and we’re better off apart,” your voice trembles with defeat. You hurl your phone onto the couch and collapse next to Noah. Tilting your head up, you drape your arm over your eyes, hoping to shield your vulnerability from him.

“What a dick,” Noah chimes in, his tone edged with anger. “And seriously, how does this keep happening to you? You’ve dated so many people.” He pauses, studying your face for any sign of reaction. “Not that it’s a bad thing, but damn, this was the longest relationship I’ve seen you in and it lasted—what, a year?” His brown eyes lock onto you, probing deeper.

You drop your arm, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Stupid. That’s how you feel. You craved love desperately, yet it seemed like nobody wanted to love you back. “I got attached to his kids like a fucking idiot,” you admit, your voice barely audible. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, unstoppable. “Why doesn’t anyone want to love me?” The words escape in a soft whisper, your shoulders slumping as you gaze at the floor. A single tear rolls down your cheek, and you think it’ll be the last, but another follows, and another. You bury your head in your hands.

Noah’s hand rubs your back soothingly. “Dude, don’t cry,” he murmurs, inching closer. His thigh brushes against yours, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling your sobbing form into his chest. In that moment, his warmth feels like the only comfort in a world that’s left you feeling unloved and broken.

“I can’t help it…” you whine, attempting to wipe your eyes. “I know it wasn’t that long, but it was like a Netflix series—short but intense. Not the ‘binge-watching Stranger Things’ kind of intense, more like ‘accidentally watched a documentary on tax law’ intense. I mean, I loved him, but I also had moments when I wanted to throw his clothes out the window because I hated him.”

Noah takes a deep breath, and you feel your body rise with his. He leans in, ready to drop some wisdom. “Listen, I’m no relationship guru, but I’m pretty sure ‘hate’ isn’t in the official handbook. It’s more like ‘tolerate their weird quirks’ or ‘pretend to enjoy their cooking.’”

You pull away playfully, glaring at him. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. Next, you’ll tell me that water is wet.”

He chuckles at your comment. “So,” he pauses dramatically, “when should we go grab your stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow, “The breakup happened like thirty minutes ago. Give me a break,” you say with a soft smile.

Noah shrugs like it’s no big deal. “The spare room is still how you left it. I’m sure Jolly will help us move some stuff upstairs too. I could ask Folio and Nicholas, but you know how they are,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, Folio would probably turn it into a moving party, and Nicholas would just complain the whole time.”

Noah laughs. “Exactly!”

You stand up, sighing. “Yeah, but the last thing I need is Michael spreading rumors about how quickly I moved on to one of you.” You bite your lip. “Can I just borrow some clothes tonight? I’m not ready to face him yet.”

Noah nods, “He’s a mediocre middle-aged basic white dude. I didn’t think you’d be this heartbroken over him.”

You smirk. “Well, he did have a decent dick.”

Noah stares at you in horror. “What the fuck, dude.”

You chuckle. “Now, about those clothes?”

“Anything to get away from you at this moment. I need to go bleach my eyes…and burn that image out of my brain.” Noah starts for the stairs, pretending to gag as he walks up them. “Let’s go get some stuff tomorrow. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

You quickly follow behind him, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He grins over his shoulder. “And you love me for it.”

Walking into his room, he grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser, tossing them at you. “Here, these should fit. They’re my comfiest.”

“Thanks,” you say, catching the clothes. You head to the room across from his. “Goodnight, Noah. I’ll see you in the morning.” You take a deep breath and open the door, feeling the weight of the day settle on your shoulders.

“Hey!” Noah slightly yells, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you stay in here with me tonight? It’ll make me feel better knowing that you can’t jump out your window.” He teases, but you can hear the worry in his voice. “We can watch a movie… My brain will be at peace, and if you need to cry, you won’t be alone.”

You pause, feeling a lump in your throat. “Let me change first.”

When you arrive back in Noah’s room, he has the TV turned on and the blankets pulled down. He’s already in bed. “Come on, get in here. I’ve got Bojack Horseman ready to go.”

You take no time crawling into bed and snuggling close to the blankets. “You know me too well,” you mumble, feeling a bit more at ease.

Noah smiles softly. “Of course I do. Now, let’s forget about Michael for a while and just relax.”

As the show starts, Noah doesn’t say a word, just watches your eyes slowly flutter, signaling you’re tired. He reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. “I’m here for you, always.”

You squeeze back, feeling a bit of the tension melt away. “Thanks, Noah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, keeping his eyes on the screen but his thoughts on you.

[tieronecrush]

i only have eyes for you

summary: your boyfriend frankie has biannual eye exams for his pilot’s license, and the results of this last one were not what he was hoping for. to his dismay, frankie needs glasses. and you’re not available to help him pick them out.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: none, pure fluff really. ending has mature themes mentioned, but this is really just a sweetie frankie moment 🩵

a/n: this was born out of @northernbluess and I discussing the frankie vibes of the photo(s) above, and then me running off with a delusion of frankie needing glasses. so wholesome, so shy, so sweet 😭

“Seriously? Doesn’t your boss know you have plans with me?” Frankie groans from his place on the couch, flannel stretched across his shoulders and his Standard Oil cap on his head. Dark chocolate curls peek out of the hat, ringlets curving around the edges and his ears, while his plush bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Crossing the living room, you plant yourself on the area rug between his open legs, one hand reaching down to grab his chin and tilt his head to face you, eyes exposed from under the brim of his cap. His umber brown irises reflect hints of a tawny, golden color in the light; one look into his eyes and you’re surrounded in their depth and wrapped up in warmth, like coming into a heated home after a frigid winter day.

Matching his pout with your own, he shakes your hand off with another huff, crossing his arms over his chest. His knees pull together, trapping yours with their effortless strength, years of multiple miles a day in basic training and deployment giving him thighs and calves as thick as tree trunks and virtually as strong as them. A breathy laugh leaves your lips, one hand further hiking your work bag on your shoulder.

“And how d’you think my boss would react to me skipping out on the deadline ‘cause my boyfriend needs to go pick out glasses?” One eyebrow arches in questioning, Frankie shifting on the couch and shrugging as he stands his ground. You know his play; he’s going to pout and say he won’t go unless you’re coming with — you’ve been reminding him constantly over the last week about this appointment, a follow-up to his bi-annual eye exam for his pilot license that he had the other day.

Lately, Frankie had been squinting a lot more, holding books close to his face when he was reading; you even caught him increasing the size of the text on his phone in order to read his messages. He definitely needed the exam, and you knew he was going to need glasses. He grumbled the whole time, avoiding making the appointment until the last possible minute and waving your concern off when he came home with the results.

He was farsighted, which is why he was usually fine while flying. Years of experience meant he knew exactly where the controls were, the blurring of his vision not necessarily deterring his abilities to fly. Clinging to the fact that he’s been fine for the past few months at work, Frankie was refusing the fact that he needed to get glasses. But since he has to submit his results, his hand has been forced to head into the optometrist’s office and pick out a pair.

Which is where you were supposed to come in. Frankie claimed he didn’t care about the look of them, asking you to tag along with him and select some for him. The logic was that “I’m only seeing through them, you’re the one who has to look at ‘em the most. Should be the one to like ‘em.”

“This is a life-changing decision! He should understand that,” his voice drops in volume, eyes flicking away from yours, “I don’t wanna pick out a pair that makes me look silly to you.”

“Oh, baby, I think you’d look cute in any pair of glasses. ‘Cause I think you’re cute.” Folding forward, you steal a quick kiss before standing straight again, lifting one of your legs up and over his knee to free yourself. “Really, Francisco, you would never look silly to me, and you need glasses to go to work. Gotta go get ‘em, baby.”

Another groan rings in your ears, and you roll your eyes at his overdramaticness. Pushing himself off the couch, he stands in front of you, a playful glare on his face, “You’re paying the out-of-pocket price if my insurance won’t let me change them when you hate them.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. That’s not gonna happen. Now I have to go, and you have to leave for your appointment in an hour. I’m going to check your location, so don’t even think about skipping out,” you warn as you walk toward the front door, hearing him call out to you before you shut the door behind you.

“Tell your boss he’s a dick for makin’ you come in on your day off!”

The end of the day rolls around before you know it, and you’re more than eager to get home to see Frankie and his new glasses. Graciously, your boss told you to take tomorrow off instead, a relief settling in that you can actually enjoy a day with Frankie, who’s out of work until he gets his vision adjustments settled.

Excitement turns in your stomach when you park in the driveway of your shared house, following the path up to the front door of the bungalow and heading inside. Your shoes end up in a pile near the door and your bag ends up dropped next to them, bare feet padding across the tile floor.

Part of you, just a sliver, was feeling a bit anxious about Frankie’s choice. You genuinely meant you would love anything on him, but he’s been avoiding the task and trying to deflect it to you, which made you guess that the whole change had him feeling insecure. To you, there was nothing wrong with the addition to his look, but he must have been feeling much differently to be so worked up about the situation. In his world, surrounded by younger co-pilots and forced to disclose things like this in any applications or license renewals, you imagine it must be like showing up to elementary school or middle school as one of the few kids with braces or the butchered haircut your mom gave you in the bathroom the night before. Totally uncool.

You just wanted to hug the little, shy kid inside of Frankie; wrap him up, and tell him how much you love him and how cool you think he is. A kid like Frankie would’ve been your best friend when you were younger — he’s your best friend now.

“Frankie baby, where ya at?”

“Living room!”

Swerving from your direction toward the kitchen, you cross over into the living room, a wide and enthusiastic grin on your face as you anticipate what kind of glasses he chose. You’d been swarmed with text messages while he was at his appointment:

Are you sure you can’t take lunch now and come help me?

Way too many options here.

An older woman who works here is trying to help but I think she’s coming onto me…Please come over here baby!!

I feel like a dweeb in all of these.

Receiving the last one nearly made you pack up your things and rush over to help him, but with your boss breathing down your neck about a submission by the end of the day for this large project, you couldn’t sneak away. Instead, you sent reassurances, asking for photos but never receiving any from your boyfriend.

From where he sits on the couch, Frankie turns his hatless head away from the movie playing on the TV, sending a soft smile to you, “Hi, cariño. How was your day?”

No glasses.

God, you actually might kill him if he went through all of the theatrics only to come home empty-handed. Or empty-faced, more like it.

“My day was fine, but more importantly, how was your day? And why don’t I see glasses on your face?” you plop down on the couch next to him, body turned toward him while he continues to focus on the TV, humming dismissively.

“I got some. Jus’ don’t like wearing ‘em if I don’t have to,” he mumbles, sinking further into the couch cushions.

“Baby, you’re not going to get used to them if you don’t wear them regularly. Can’t be living in a blurry world.” Inching closer, you rest a hand on his thigh and the other cards through the curls at the nape of his neck, slowly turning his head to look at you, “I wanna see them. Please? Pretty please?”

Embraced again by those cocoa-brown eyes, this time filled with timidness and hooded with anxiety.

“I feel ridiculous in them. Like they make my ears stick out and they don’t fit under my cap and…they just look stupid on me.” His sentences mush together in his dejected tone, eyes falling from yours to stare at where his fingers are anxiously toying with the hem of your satin blouse.

The image of shy, little Frankie at school tugs on your heartstrings again; instead of showing your cards, you hide your anxieties with a soft, bright smile.

“Frankie, you could never look stupid to me. You never look stupid to anyone. Well, unless Pope’s around, but he can shove it.” That brings a subtle grin to his lips, a breathy of a single chuckle exhaling. “You are the most handsome to me, and a little pair of glasses isn’t going to change that. Can you please show them to me? I promise I’ll be honest, but I can guarantee that you think they are exponentially worse than what they are. Knowing how you are, they probably make you look hotter. Which, like, should be physically impossible, I mean look at you—”

“Alright, alright. I’ll show you the glasses. Quit makin’ me blush…” he scolds lightly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips and his dimple poking through on his cheek. You scoot back to allow him to get up off the couch, watching as he disappears down the hall to your bedroom and comes back a few seconds later, stopping right before he’s in view.

“Close your eyes.”

“Frankie, c’mon, I said—”

“Please?” His tone is so innocent, guileless in his clear nerves around you seeing him with the new accessory.

“Okay, they’re closed.” You confirm once you have shut your eyes, sitting up as you eagerly await. His steps grow louder and you can feel the couch sink when he sits back down again, shifting to cheat his body in your direction. A silent beat drums between you two before he clears his throat with a defeated sigh.

“Okay, you can look.”

Opening your eyes, the immediate reaction is to press your lips together, holding back the overexcitement about the new look to not startle Frankie. Circling your eyes over his face, you study the thick oaky frames that stand out from his strong features, complementing them with a statement of their own. Rounded square shapes hold the lenses, the bridge of them perched perfectly on his hooked nose. The arms of them extend back to his ears, and he was right, they do make the tops of his ears stick out minisculely. But most of that is covered by the way his dense curls flick out around the glasses, poking out in the most adorable way.

And of course, they do nothing but create the perfect perimeter around those beloved brown eyes, the curvature of the lenses making them appear just the slightest bit larger. More for you to stare into.

The lack of reaction as you take it all in has perturbed Frankie, a groan identical to his this morning rolling from his chest, “See I knew these were no good, I’m not wearing ‘em. I look silly.”

One of his hands lifts from his lap to grab for the frames, your own hand quick to intercept the motion. Quickly shaking your head, the words spill out to stop his spiraling, “No no no, absolutely not. You don’t look silly at all, baby…”

“But you don’t like them?”

“I love them. They’re exactly what I would’ve chosen for you myself. You look so handsome, my Frankie.” Without holding back anymore, a blinding smile lights up your face and you shift to your knees to crawl over and straddle his thighs. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing yourself against him in a tight, squeezing hug. His own arms snake around your back, keeping you flush against him. The two of you sit in that embrace for a few moments, only pulling back a few inches to look at his face again. Delicately, you lift a finger to trace the shape of the glasses, grinning sweetly when your eyes focus back on his.

“You look hot. Like a sexy professor or like…a cool movie star.” Frankie laughs and shakes his head, fingertips tracing up and down your lower spine. “Can’t wait to christen the glasses. Kinda want you to keep ‘em on later tonight.”

Frankie’s head twists in curiosity, a smirk settling easily on his face, “That so? Guess it is going to be nice to see your face clearly again. Think that was my sole motivator for getting the damn things finally…” He grins when you laugh, pushing his lips out in a pucker and his eyes widen as a thought pops into his head. “Pretty sure they’ll get all fogged up when I’m between your le—”

“Oh my god, don’t even finish that sentence. The glasses come off when you’re doing that, Francisco.” You shove his shoulder gently and he laughs brightly, his eye glittering in the warm light behind his lenses. His hands at your back pull you in closer again, his nose nudging yours before he catches your lips in a soft, supple, slow kiss. The feeling of the plastic frames against your skin is foreign, but welcome.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers against your skin before he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

Leaning back again, his hands coast up and down your sides while you reply, “Love you too, Frankie. Glasses or no glasses.”

taglist: @northernbluess @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @kiwisbell @planet-marz1 @jrosie25 @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @cartoon-garbage04 @nostalxgic

[sturnioloshacker]

silent treatment - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended

summary: reader gives vinnie the silent treatment after he breaks a promise but they eventually make up

8:54pm

where in the blue hell is he? makeup applied carefully, outfit picked with confidence and pride, i sit at my dining room table with my phone tightly in my hand. i was promised to a date by vinnie, tonight at 7:30. we were both supposed to be going to the restaurant that we had our first date at to celebrate reaching 1 million subscribers on youtube. 

“it’ll be an amazing night for us.” he murmured to me the night before while tracing shapes on my back. 

“i know i’ve been busy with multiple fashion week events, but i’ll make it up to you sweetheart.”

i sigh, unlocking my phone to see i’m still left on delivered. time slowly ticks by as i grow more upset over my boyfriend breaking his promise. in a state of frustration and sadness, i head up to vinnie’s bathroom and begin my night routine, my patience hanging on by a thread. after ruining my makeup and crying in the shower, i flop onto my side of the bed. 

“princess!” i hear vinnie shout as he barges his way into the house and up the stairs, sounding frantic and out of breath.

“oh you’re here, thank the lord.”

i didn’t turn to face him, i didn’t want to face him. i stay rolled over facing the wall, pretending to be asleep. did i forget, vinnie thought, or was i genuinely asleep? brushing the thought away, vinnie stripped himself of his clothes, shimmied his plaid pyjama pants over his legs and slipped in beside me under the duvet. whispering goodnight to my ‘sleeping’ body, he reached around to wrap his arms around my torso to pull me closer. feeling my body tense, he knew i was awake. usually, when we cuddle, i relax in his embrace but tonight he pushed my buttons and i’m not having it. 

“y/n?” he murmured. 

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.” i muttered under my breath.

i get up out of bed and take my pillow with me. 

“hey, wait!” 

“i don’t want to wait anymore! i waited almost an hour and a half for you and where were you?! nowhere to be seen!”

i feel my chest cave in at the anger i’m feeling. i don’t want to look at vinnie, not even be around him. after weeks of not seeing him, he promised me one of the best date nights only to let me down. silence falls upon the both of us as I walk out of vinnie’s bedroom and to the couch in the living room. 

i didn’t get much slept last night, multiple thoughts raced through my mind. vinnie didn’t get much sleep either. the guilt was taking over his body, eating away at him as he groggily rolled out of bed. he couldn’t fathom the fact that he had broken his promise. time had just slipped away as he was trying on different outfits for the fashion week he just came back from. 

“morning.” he mumbles as he makes his way into the kitchen. 

i don’t reply, i just leave the kitchen to head to the living room to eat my breakfast. 

vinnie was hoping that i would leave all this behind and just talk to him like i normally do but i had other ideas. it’s not that i wanted to over dramatise the situation but i’m so hurt that i don’t want to sweep how i’m actually feeling under the rug and just forget about it. i’m used to him going to get fitted for the fashion week events he gets invited to but he’s normally back home at a certain time, especially when he has things planned for us to do. as much as i support him for what he does in his life, i want him to do the same thing for me but i feel like he's not.

“we need to talk.” vinnie said, disturbing my silence as i bit into my toast.

“baby, i’m not doing this silent treatment shit. i know i broke my promise to you and i’m so fucking sorry and i just need you to talk to me so we can sort this out. please, i need to hear your voice, i miss you.” the desperation in his voice echoing throughout the room.

“what’s there to say, vincent?” i snap.

his eyes widen as i use his full name. 

“you broke a promise that you know real well meant a lot to me, to both of us. i was all dressed up for you, my makeup was applied the way you like it, i wore the heels that you adore, i doused myself in the perfume you love, i was ready to celebrate 1 million youtube subscribers but you weren’t here, vinnie, and that broke my heart. you should know that i cried, i drowned myself in my own tears while i showered my happiness away. i'm happy for you when it comes to your modelling career and your fashion event status but i also want you to be happy for me in my youtube success and support me just as much as i support you. i feel as though i'm not getting that and it really hurts.”

the words hit vinnie like a truck, the guiltiness growing even more, just eating away at him like a flesh-eating animal. 

“i know i did, and i said i’m sorry. i understand that i hurt you and i didn’t mean to. there was just so many outfits and i lost track of time. it’s not like me to lose track of time, especially when i plan things. i'm truly sorry, my love. i want to be apart of your youtube journey, i want to support you the same way you support me. please let me make it up to you, please.”

the tears welling in his eyes, the sincerity in his words and the heartbroken look on his face had me tearing up. 

“were the outfits nice?” 

“honestly, yes. i’ll wear one to our date to celebrate your 1 million subscribers.” a smile tugging at his lips as he remembers the one particular fit that he knew would have you giggling like a little schoolgirl whose crush noticed her on the playground. 

“i was just upset, you know?”

vinnie nods, reaching out to take my hands in his. a light squeeze of my hands motions for me to continue.

“we haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks and haven’t spent a night together in so long. i was all dressed up for you and i was ready to celebrate this amazing milestone of mine with you..”

i laugh at how pathetic and embarrassing i sound. 

“sorry, i probably sound so stupid right now.”

“no you don’t, sweetheart.” 

taking my plate from my hand, vinnie places it gently on the table in front of me and carefully pulls me up and into his arms. it felt nice to be wrapped in his arms again like this. i missed it so much. he presses a soft kiss to my temple before speaking up again.

“i’m so sorry, princess, it won’t ever happen again, i swear.”

all is forgiven with a sweet kiss on the lips and everything goes back to the way it was: absolutely perfect.

[cowgurrrl]

Sweet Jane

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst

Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST

The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.

She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."

"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.

"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep. 

Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.

"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you. 

"I think we're safe," You say.

"For now."

"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."

"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."

"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes. 

"Kids seem to handle these things better." 

"Sam was her friend."

"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies? 

"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.

"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.

"It never came up." 

"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.

"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.

"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.

"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."

"How come I didn't know all this?"

"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."

"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"

"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."

"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.

"Ten."

"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.

"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."

"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."

"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.

"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."

"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead." 

Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?

"What was Sarah like?"

"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."

"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.

"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.

"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were. 

"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.

"I like to think so."

"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."

"You think?" You ask, and he nods. 

"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."

"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch. 

You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone. 

It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you. 

Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree. 

💫

💫

[vscabarca]

Can you do a request where Pablo wants reader to seat on their lap but reader doesn’t want to because she’s insecure about how skinny she is and from pass experiences exes have told her that her legs hurt their lap, and teased her for it, can you make it fluff :)

„stay, it‘s comfortable” - pablo gavi

summary: gavi found out about your insecurity, so he assures you you‘re enough.

genre: fluff

warnings: talks about body image, past relationships,

a/n: thank you for the request:)

———

Spending cozy, slow days with Gavi was probably your most loved activity. The hustle and bustle from the week was suddenly forgotten and all that mattered was Gavi and you.

You didn’t need to do much. His presence was already enough to get rid of any negativity, it just felt like you were made for each other.

Gavi usually lingered around the living room, the couch was his favorite spot by far. He could just let his muscles relax, play fifa while you were doing something else or just sleep with you in his arms. It felt like the hectic everyday life stood still, the only thing that mattered was you two.

It was a gloomy saturday, Barcelona‘s usual sunny side was replaced by dark clouds hanging low over the city. You had been doing some schoolwork while your boyfriend took a nap. The plan for that night was to watch a movie and maybe doordash food to his house, both of you were too lazy to cook anything.

After Gavi woke up from his slumber and you being done with homework, you joined him under the fuzzy blanket on the couch.

He immediately pulled you closer, almost to the point you laid on top of him. You giggled at his antics, but secretly loved how he looked for your touch. At the beginning of the relationship you were a bit overwhelmed with how loving Gavi was. Not that you didn’t like it, but because of past experiences with your exes, you were rather reserved when it came to show affection. They made some rather questionable comments regarding your body, but always saying it was a joke. To you it was never a joke. Never should anyone talk about someone elses body, especially not in a negative way.

That’s why you were still rather shy to show physical affection. You‘ve never told your boyfriend about it, you just swept it under the rug, hoping he would never address it.

You were still grinning, Gavi pulled you now completely onto his lap, holding you close. As the giggles settled, only then did you realize how close you two were. You became a bit nervous, insecure even, hoping your legs didn’t hurt him like your exes told you they did.

You were about to sit back down onto the couch, but Gavi held your waist tightly.

„Stay, it’s comfortable. You’re warm.“ He said, engulfing you in a hug.

„It is?“ You asked rather surprised, not thinking he would actually like it.

„Mhm, is it not comfortable for you?“

„No! yeah it is. It’s just people have told me otherwise.“ You mumbled. Gavi just furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding what you were trying to say.

„What do you mean by that baby?“ He asked, his fingers playing with your hair.

„Well, my exes always made fun of my legs because they are on the thinner side, telling me it was uncomfortable when I sat in their lap. That’s why I didn’t do it again.“

„Why did you never say anything amor? I hope you know I‘m not like your exes, or that’s what I at least hope.“

„Of course you aren’t! I‘m just overthinking things sometimes.“ You spoke, clasping your hands together behind his neck.

„I love you. Your legs, your arms, your belly button. I love everything about you. What your past relationships said is not okay, but I want you to feel safe with me and not worry about such silly things. I love having you close to me.“

Your smile couldn’t be bigger, you even started to blush. You hid your face in his neck, earning a laugh from Gavi.

„Nu-uh, don’t hide, I want to see your pretty face.“ He said and pecked your lips several times. He brought a blanket over you two and pulled you flush against him.

„That’s actually comfortable. Now you don’t get rid of me anymore.“ You giggled as you laid there in his arms.

„Good because we won’t get up from this couch anytime soon.“ Gavi laughed and proceeded to pick out a movie for you two to watch.

[sevsdollette]

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49324864/chapters/137713357

content warning: trigger warning for violence against the reader. if mean men in bars freak you out, read with caution. other than that, alcohol, gambling, smoking, and smut (obviously). reader eats sevika out. fingering. sorry if you just want it to be sevika doing shit to the reader, but yk the woman has needs as well.

summary: You go out with Sevika as her gambling date. It’s a calm night at the Last Drop where everything should be fun and easy. But your beauty doesn’t just attract Sevika.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

2. A Long Night at Work

3. A Gamble of A Night

note: tell me why every chapter title has the word night in it. i’m back @-@. so yeah it’s been a minute. hope no one is too mad at me. this one maybe a bit shorter than the others? not entirely sure. also i know this ends with like a cliff hanger, but i promise the next chapter will leave no holes in the time line. you gays will get what you want. sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i wrote most of this on my phone. it’s not like i’m an AP english student or anything (i am :/) also sorry for the format being a bit different. tumblr is pissing me the fuck off right now. i don’t care to fix the spacing between the paragraphs. i’m tired.

————————————18+————————————

The glow of the Last Drops neon sign felt a bit more familiar than before. This time, more than a drink was waiting for you inside.

It was a clear, hot night with busy streets and crowded alleys, and you were wearing a black catsuit with long sleeves and shorts that hardly covered your ass. The zipper down the front was pulled so low the clothes were practically falling off of you.

This time, when you walked up to the bouncer, past the long, impatient line, you hardly had to open your mouth before he was opening the door and letting you in. The groans and hateful stares of the people waiting felt like a crown on your head. You were still scum, sure, but for the night you were important.

On that evening, the bar wasn’t full of screaming patrons and blasting music, but slow, cool jazz. It was their calmest night where the low lamps gave off an orange-red glow on the deep wooden walls, and every shadow seemed comforting. People sat calmly at their tables, passing cards and taking shots. The ceiling hung low with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A sweet smell of booze wafted through the room, making any nasty smell of the people buying the drinks.

In her normal corner booth, Sevika was sitting with four men, cigarette pressed between her lips and cards in her hands. She was laughing lightly as she passed a card into the center of the table. The candle in the middle of the room illuminated her face and curved around her features. Beautiful, you thought, staring at her vibrant eyes.

As you waded through the tables of the room, she noticed you approaching, glancing over as the conversation at her table continued. Keeping an eye on you. You kept your cool, only giving a small smile back as you approached. Men of the bar kept looking up at your figure as you walked by their tables, admiring the way the leather suit curved over your hips and hugged your thighs.

The other men at the table were just as harsh and brutish as Sevika, all with scars over their faces or hands, rugged clothes, and a mean glare. They were younger than her but older than you, and they didn’t seem too friendly when you came up to the table.

One of them, with white blonde hair and a blind eye, wrinkled her nose as he looked you up and down. With a toothpick in his mouth, he questioned, “Who’s that?”

Sevika cleared her throat, looking down at her cards as she drew another from the deck. “I hired her.”

You froze, brow furrowing as your upper lip curled. Your services didn’t involve simple company at a bar. You surely didn’t want to be here if she was going to pay you for it.

She chuckled under her breath, looking up at you. “I’m kidding, doll. Sit down.” She tapped the spot on the cushion next to her.

Apprehensive, you sat beside her slowly. If this night was just going to be her being a bitch, you weren’t going to get involved. You could go back to Babettes and earn your dinner like always. You didn’t need her free food. And her expensive rum. And her perfectly rolled clove cigarettes…

The more you looked around the table, the longer you wanted to stay. You’d seen her and her men around the bar before but never noticed how nice of a night they always had. Each man was sitting comfortably around the booth with either a cigar, cigarette, or drink, lounging as they waited for the game to start. The loud music was slightly muffled, making the table almost cozy and closed off.

They were just finishing a game as you got there, a pile of coins in front of Sevika and dwindling collections by the other players. They were settling bets and getting more drinks, idle conversation as everyone got ready for another round. Sevika shuffled the deck and delt you your own hand.

You were sitting close to her, but just far enough away so you didn’t touch. A distance she would have to choose to close if she really wanted to. Yes, you liked her and wanted her attention, but you weren’t going to devote yourself to her to get it. If she really liked you, she’d take what she wanted.

And it didn’t take her long. As she was puting your cards down in front of her, she smiled and met your eyes. Her gaze drifted down your neck, chest, and down to your lap. She was close, her broad figure looming beside you enough to block your view of three of the men.

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve got something on your neck.”

A heat hit your face as you rubbed the skin under your chin. God, you couldn’t look decent just once. “What is it?”

“Something I left for you.”

Your hands dropped and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and sitting back. The tables was coming back together and everyone was picking up their cards as a waitress came around with more drinks. She had a glass for you and Sevika poured you some rum. The waitress smiled a bit too sweetly at Sevika when she said thank you, and it made you inch a bit closer to her.

You picked up your cards and sipped your drink. Rum was never your favorite, but in this setting, it felt right. Your deal wasn’t the worst, but you;d defitnety have to sit out for the round. You were trying to play your best.

At the brothel, you and your tolerable coworkers would play and gamble during slow hours all the time. Your room was the hot spot where everyone would crown around the coffee table, taking a smoke break, and having good fun. It was never that serious, everyone putting their earrings or hair clips in as prizes only to hand them back at the end of the game. But, there was a skill level that all of you developed.

And you were the best.

You all got through two games that Sevika won. She truly enjoyed it. A sly smile spread across her face as she collected everyone’s coins, only handing you a coy apology and running her hand up your though to make up for it. It didn’t matter to you. Your cards weren’t that good anyway.

Though, you liked the way she got when she was that happy. She was touchy. She would “accidentally” brush her hand over your tit, and she really liked to fiddle with that zipper that rested between your ribs. You’d push her away, saying something about how stupid she was being and how the alcohol was getting to her, and she’d give a boozy smile and turn to shuffle the cards again.

On the third game, you got a good hand. A really good hand. You kept your cool as you saw the empress and her court smiling up at your on the painted card. Every mention of a tell that your friends had mentioned to you ran through your head and you hid every sign. No one would know. You would win.

It took great thought to get through. Early on, Sevika noticed how much more focused you were, and it caused her to keep putting more money on the table. The men all had relatively bad hands except for one, but he backed out after a while, not trying to get in the middle of whatever mental battle you and Sevika were engaged in.

In the end, with the final turn of a card, you had won. With a huge pile of copper in teh middle fo the table, you whooped and bounced in your seat, grinning as you pulled all of the money towards yourself.

Sevika was angry. You could see it in the way she wouldn’t look at you adn how she stared into her empty glass. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut and she was thinking hard, still looking at the coins you’d taken from her. It wasn’t her fault. She hardly knew you, and she had expected you to be moer of an open book then your were. To be truthful, she dind’t know the half of who you were, and that was her fatal flaw.

Part of her still thougth of you as those prissy virgins she usually saw. It was hard for her to accept that she liked someone so similar to her own spiteful nature. She didn’t like it unless you two were naked, apparently.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I let you win.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Shut up.”

A fake laugh tossed itself from her lips and she held her hands in helplessness. “Just trying to be nice. If I beat you every time, you won’t enjoy it so much. There’s no way you can actually win.”

“Sevika—“ You scoffed, shaking your head at her as you wondered why she fucking bothered to say those things. “Whatever. I’m going to get a cocktail.”

She chuckled bitterly as you stood up. “Rum’s too strong?”

You held your middle finger up behind you as you stomped to the bar. Sevika muttered something else under her breath that you didn’t want to hear. The lively jazz that filled hte bar felt so suffocating now as you walked past a betting table thick with smoke. You didn’t need her pouting just because you won. It was supposed to be a fun night. Only a baby cried because they lost a stupid game.

You sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender was a nice but nervous man who must’ve known who you were accompanying. He stuttered as he took your order and nearly dropped the vodka when he went to pour it. He was good at his job though adn your drinks as sweet with an after taste that stung your throat. You thanked him and made soem idle conversation, knowing that Sevika was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You could feel the heat of her anger even from that far away. You planned on sitting at the bar for a little longer, let them play a game without you so she could get a win back under her belt. Maybe then she’d be nicer.

The bartender Thieram was a nice man who made you rlaugh once or twice as you sipped your drink. He was respectful. Most men either didn’t like you or liked you too much. It wasn’t often your found someone who treated you like a friend.

This fact was proven a few minutes later when a man steppe dup to the bar to order a beer. He was probably almost thirty with black hair graying on the sides and a long tattoo down her left forearm. He was ugly. But ugly in a way that some people found very attractive, though the second you stared at him for too long, he looked like an abstract painting.

You only glanced at him for a second before stirring your drink while waiting to talk to Thieram again. He had a deep, angry voice. After Thieram turned away, he stayed at the bar and leaned against it, turning to face you. “You alright, babe?”

You didn’t look up. “Who are you calling babe?”

“Just a pretty woman I see at the bar.” He chuckled. “I’m Leox.”

“And I’m not interested.”

None of your blatant signals got through to him. In fact, he stepped closer. Enough that you could smell the weed he’d been smoking. “Come on. You seemed kinda upset at your table. Why don’t you come and join mine? I’ll treat you real good.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. “I will.”

“Hm,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you pretended to enjoy his flirting. “Well…”

You pushed him away. “I’m still not interested.”

You only did men if they paid you for it.

The firm hand you placed on his shoulder withdrew only slightly before he gripped your wrist in place. For a brief moment your breath caught as he tugged you off of your stool and you were stumbling into him.

He grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled your face up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you just be nice? I know you’re just some whore. I could’ve paid well too.”

You jerked from his grasp, trying to turn around to get free and run out of there. He smelt awful and his breath was hot in your face. His teeth were yellow.

You were able to jam your heel into his toes, making him flinch so you could wriggle free, but as you were getting away, his foot caught under you and you fell to the ground. Your palms took the blunt of the pain as you scrambled to get yourself up.

As you pulled yourself to your feet, a heavy set of footsteps was storming past you and towards the man. In your panic, and with the moment being so quick, you hardly heard what she was saying to him—yelling at him.

You spun around, uneasy on your feet, and only saw their final interaction: Her fist against his face.

Once such a strong, intimidating man crumbled into a heap on the floor. Sevika stood over him, shimmer coursing through her metal arm and heavy breaths moved her shoulders, flexing the muscle. She turned around and you only saw the faint glint of purple in her eyes before she passed you again and ordered her men to take the guy out back. Teach him a lesson, she said.

The bar was silent. The woman humming low jazz was standing shocked beside her accordion player, the other patrons were trying to keep their gazes down, and Thieram was standing helpless behind the bar, terrified. You felt your face get hot as you stepped back subconsciously, your arms crossing and hugging your ribs.

Sevika was done barking orders and came up to you, pulling you back into the private room of the bar. The familiar place almost brought back amusing memories if you weren’t so upset.

She pulled you into her arms, examining you and making sure you were alright. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Shit like that happens all the time to me.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose and looked at the door. She must’ve been pondering whether to go help her men or not, but your hand on hip kept her there.

You two ended up sitting on the couch together sharing a cigarette. You were beside her with your legs rested across her lap and your head on her shoulder. She had her hand gripping your thigh and her metal arm wrapped over your shoulders.

You looked up at her face after a long drag and saw how tense her face was, how she didn’t seem to be moving an inch. Staring off into space with a firm furrow in her brow.

“Sev?” You frowned, brushing her stray hairs off her forehead. “Don’t be so upset. Everything’s okay.”

Sure, you were a bit shaken, but men were always like that to you. It wasn’t right, but it was something you had to get used to. She’d have to understand that if she were to be around you.

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be okay as long as he gets what he deserves.”

You ran your thumb over the muscles of her collar. “Just try to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

You sighed, understand the aggression wasn’t towards you. To be honest, you didn’t feel unsafe at all with her. Even though her eyes still sparkled violet when the lamplight caught it.

“Everything will be okay,” you assured. “I’m fine and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. Relax, dear.”

Again you rubbed her collar and shoulder, your fingers trying to ease any tension she had. You leaned in to place a small kiss under her jaw, and as your lips brushed her skin, she held you tighter against her.

You kissed her neck again, lingering to drag your tongue over her in a way that made her sign and settle into the couch. The action spurred you on and you left another heavy kiss to her pulse point, making sure to leave proof that you did so.

You climbed into her lap and straddled on of her thighs, the right muscle fitting right against your clit. She let you tilt her head back so you could keep up your actions.

“What…”

A sly smile spread across your lips and you kissed below her ear. “Just trying to help you relax,” you cooed, a bit of mischief in your voice as one of your hands fiddled with the top button of her vest.

As you pulled the button free, her hand on your thigh got ever so slightly tighter and you remembered the shimmer in her system.

“Come on, Sev, don’t be so upset. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

You dragged your kisses down her chest, letting more of her buttons become undone until she was helping you pull her arms out of the sleeves and you tossed her shirt onto the other side of the couch.

She looked magnificent, curving muscle winding down her stomach, scars lacing her skin, and her breasts dark and nipples pebbled from the cold.

As you took the moment to admire her, she grabbed your ass and nudged you to keep going. You’d never expect her to be so lenient on letting you have control, but maybe she was trusting you more. Or maybe she just really needed to let some stress out.

Your tongue slid across her chest, lips finding one of her breasts for you to suck on. You twirled your tongue around her nipple, sucking it into your mouth and rolling it around your teeth. She moaned, gripping you hair and letting you grind on her thigh. It was a perfect mixture of giving and receiving, all of her grains sending shockwaves to your core and you reveled in the taste of her.

You wanted to taste more.

As you slid onto the floor on your knees, you dragged you hands down her thighs and then up to undo her belt. She was breathing heavily as you kissed down her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her muscle against your lips. You pulled her pants down with her underwear, wrestling them over her boots and letting them be lost somewhere in the room.

Adrenaline led you to avidly kiss down her thighs, licking over every inch on the insides as you got closer and closer to her core. You could tell her was ready for you, her hand gripped the back of your head, waiting to hold your mouth against her. You moaned as she tugged at your hair lightly, trying to get you to start.

You left a long kiss on her inner thigh, just an inch from her pussy befor turning to begin. Only, you stopped to look up at her flushed face as smile.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sev.”

The compliment was not taken happily. “I swear to god—you and that fucking mouth of yours,” She breathed, her pupils blown as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you don’t like the teasing when it’s the other way around?”

“Just eat,” she huffed, pushing your face into her core.

It was hot and dripping, so ready for you. You lifted one thigh into your shoulder and spread her folds with your fingers. Her hairs were well kept and trimmed, brushing your nose as you dragged your tongue through her, tasting her.

She moaned, pushing your face further into her as you found her clit, flattening your tongue and coaxing over the bud. As you worked her up, you slid your fingers down and circled her entrance slowly, teasing it lightly.

Another heavy groan fell from her as she tightened her legs around your head. You could hardly hear her due to the clamp her thighs had over your ears.

Everything was so intense, the scent of her, the taste, the pressure of her legs, and the ughh grip she had on your hair. All you could do was kiss and lick her clit, enjoying the moment. It was so overwhelming you completely forgot any else that had happened that night.

You flicked her bud with the tip of your tongue, sucking on it as you slid two fingers into her.

It made her tense up and her head fell back over the back of the couch. She was desperate, holding your face so close and gently rocking her hips against your tongue as you fucked your fingers into her.

“Fuck, baby, don’t stop,” she demanded. You could sense her stress waning as she breathed deep and relaxed into you. You circled your fingers against her walls every time you pushed them in, sucking and licking her clit as you did so.

With your other hand, you pulled down the zipper of your suit and reached under the leather to find yourself. All of her heaving and moaning was too much for you to handle. The taste of her alone made you drip. You slid your fingers between your lips, finding your eager, swollen bud and stroking it.

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp and you quickened your pace on both her and you. She was desperate, fucking heralded on your face bc had while you moaned against her clit and sucked. Rapid, intelligible words fell from her lips as she reached her high, curses and praised to you crescendoing into muttering whines as she came.

The pressure of her legs and your fingers rubbing over your clit was enough to get yourself there too. You cried out into her folds, the stimulation making her jerk as she came down from her high with you.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you crawled back up to her lap. She held you, sliding her hands past the unzipped front of your catsuit so she could feel your hot skin.

Your lips met in a messy clash or desperation. She dragged her teeth over your bottom lip as she made her grind your pussy against hers, the overstimulation making you both shudder.

Just as easily as you’d fallen into her kiss, she was pulling away and moving you off her lap. She set you down on the couch as she stood up, grabbing her clothes off the floor and couch to put them back on.

You sat up, anger and panick setting in. Did you do something wrong? “What—where are you going?”

She began to button her vest up, a grin sliding over her lips. “I’m taking you home.”

[byuljoonie]

Plastic off the sofa // kth

I like it, baby

pairing: dom!kth x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, ftl, unedited

word count: 1.7k (Prologue)<—coming soon

warnings: spit, unsafe sẽx, choking, anal play (fingers), oral 4f, downward dog, deep voice shenanigans, pet names, intimate love ig🥹

Note: spare me it’s thursday and I’m reeling !! Hope you enjoy🕴🏾 -dubu♡

A faint blush resonated on your cheeks in the car, every passing street making the butterflies flutter away in your tummy.

Taehyung gripped the steering wheel firmly, eyes concentrating on the road in front of him. A small smile lingered on his lips upon entering the vehicle. His recent brazen behavior echoing through his mind.

You glanced at him secretly trying not to make a sound, yet like he can read your thoughts he looked over at you unexpectedly.

“Something on your mind, pretty?” He turned back to the road, his attention still focused on your dilatory response.

“Mmhm.” You said shyly, titling your head to cutely punctuate your playful words. He turned down a familiar street his apartment building coming into sight.

“And what would that be, y/n?” He said huskily, glancing over at you with a smirk plastered on his slightly swollen lips.

“You.” He pulled into his parking garage and turned off the engine, taking his seatbelt off swiftly to shift in his seat and kiss you. Reaching over the console was uncomfortable but your lips soothed any thought of pain in his body.

He pulled away from the intense kiss letting you catch your breath, “ready?” He questioned breathlessly. You nodded biting your lip unconsciously.

He walked around the car to let you out, locking the door as you walked hand in hand to the elevator. Once inside the apartment, his demeanor changed completely. He walked over to the large sofa leaning against the side of it coolly.

“Come here, baby.” As if your feet were uprooted from the ground you crossed the space between you. His hands instinctively wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in. He stared down at you entranced by your beauty, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Listen closely, okay?” He began seriously, “I don’t want to hurt you, so you have to tell me when you’re uncomfortable.” He searched your face for any trace of fear or worry, but he was met with a sultry half-smile.

“I want you to use me, Taehyung.” You watched his eyes darken in delight, a huff being pushed through his pink lips from a small chuckle. He ran a hand down the back of your neck, gripping and pulling your head back. Squeezing your lips open and spitting in your mouth without warning. Your cheeks warmed up at his actions, but you swallowed submissively, your pussy getting wetter by the second.

“My pleasure, angel.” His lips found your neck in a frenzy, being met with a small hiss as he soothed over your love marks with his tongue.

“All mine,” he muttered against your neck, sending a vibration down your already sensitive skin. You feel his hands snake their way down your waist, tugging at the zipper on the side of your skirt. He ran a finger down your thigh, running his hand under your skirt to feel your dewy skin.

He placed his hands on the hem of your skirt yanking it down your legs and letting it hit the floor. “Turn around,” he said gingerly running his lips along your lower jawline making your eyes close in bliss. “Need to make you feel good.”

His eyes pour into yours as he runs his hands along your curves, savoring the feel of your body. He halted his movements over your clothed chest. Removing your shirt and massaging your tits until they were aching for more. He carefully spun you around, removing himself from the sofa. Letting you face away from him and bend over the arm.

He sunk to the floor letting his knees make contact with the plush rug that stretched luxuriously throughout his living room. He placed a hand on your backside and spread your legs slightly. Craning forward and placing a kiss on your ass cheek. Without warning you felt his nose nudge against your pussy, your arousal slipping down your leg.

“Please,” you murmur, knees buckling when Taehyung articulately licked a strip down your swollen cunt. He inhaled your scent lustfully, groaning in elation.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby” he ran his middle and ring finger down your slit collecting the juice like a sweet nectar was at his disposal. He placed his fingers on his tongue moaning at the taste, a shiver creeping down your spine.

He rose from his position on the floor, crouching slightly as 2 of his fingers rested over your cunt. He sank his fingers inside you, watching as you arched into his touch.

“Shit —” he cursed, slowly pulling out and setting a steady pace, learning your body and its reactions. “Taking my fingers like a good little slut. What happened to my Angel hmm?”

You whimpered at his words, fucking yourself steadily on his nimble fingers, earning a chuckle from him that almost sounded like a deep rumble escaping his chest. You clenched around his fingers tightly, rutting backwards letting out a pitiful whine.

He massaged your clit with the palm of his hand as his fingers press knuckle deep inside you. He moved his thumb to rest over your asshole, not halting his movements.

“Can I?” He asks putting slightly pressure where his thumb is. You nod sheepishly, cheeks warm and flushed as his fingers violate you.

“Good girl” he groans, pressing his thumb into your hole, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling. Desperate moans fall from your lips as he increases his speed.

“Taehyung,” you whimper softly, brain turning to mush. He hummed with faux empathy, leaning down to kiss and lick at your hot exposed skin.

“I’m so close,” you stutter weakly, chest heaving to catch a breath. He finger fucked you relentlessly smiling at the way your body reacted to his touch.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty?” He taunted sexily, groaning when you clenched around his fingers in response, your mess coating your legs and his unforgiving hand. He pulled you closer to your orgasm, the knot in your stomach unraveling intensely. With a cry of his name your hips bucked as you arched back slightly, shaking. He slipped his fingers from your cunt, rubbing your overstimulated clit as you cum all over his hand.

“So good for me, beautiful.” He stood up quickly, moving you over to the spacious sofa, letting you rest your weight on him as he sat you down. He stood in front of you swiftly removing his shirt and losing his pants in the same motion. You stare at his body in awe, finally getting to take in the man you now call lover.

“Lay on your back for me,” he leaned down planting a kiss on your pouty lips. You nodded against his lips, moaning into the kiss when his hand unexpectedly met your neck, squeezing firmly.

You broke apart and obediently followed his orders, shivering when your bare skin made contact with the chilly fabric. You heard rustling behind you and assumed Taehyung was discarding his boxers. A lustful creature snuck into your body as you felt your pussy leak onto the cushion, muttering soft moans as you writhed desperately.

Taehyung watched you amazement, the tip of his cock aggressively leaking down his shaft. He was uncomfortably hard, veins prominent around his shaft.

He climbed over you, hovering with one arm down to steady himself and the other hand lazily stroking his cock. You huffed in frustration shaking your ass slightly to encourage Taehyung to hurry. He grabbed a nearby pillow and gently placed it under your lower stomach, increasing the angle of your hips.

“Patience, princess” he groaned out huskily, fisting his girthy cock firmly. He lowered himself and ran his tip through your folds, collecting your wetness while relishing in the raunchy squelching noises.

“Need you hyungie, please” you begged mercilessly, craning back for more friction against his length. He sunk into you slowly, moaning at the warmth of your wet cunt. You whined at the pleasurable stretch gripping the edge of the sofa tightly as you took him completely in. He let you adjust to his size before he started kissing down your back, retracting his hips before hurriedly going back inside you.

He ground his hips against your ass, pinning your hands beside your body. He took his time fucking you passionately into the soft cushions. He moaned your name deeply, complimenting your body in endearing ways.

“You take my dick so good,” he cooed sweetly, looking down to watch your bodies connect in a sticky mess. His movements speeding up steadily as he found your sweet spot. You yelled his name in pleasure, tears brimming your eyes as he aggressively fucked into you repeatedly.

“Fuck —“ you barely whimpered out, face flush against the cushions. Your chest heaving, nipples sensitive as they rub on the soft fabric. You felt the knot in your stomach tightening again, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Your pussy is so pretty when you clench around me,” his hips rhythmically stutter downward, his balls slapping against your exposed skin. The filthy sound of moans and heavy breathing filled the living room.

“Hyungie, can I cum for you please?” You cried out pushing back to meet his hips with every thrust.

“Yeah?” He crooned hotly, “you wanna cum for me, slut?” He pressed more of his weight down on you, leaning down to approve of your dire question.

You felt your stomach tightening upon your release, sparks flying through your body as he fucked you through your orgasm, slowing down his thrusts. You felt his cock twitch inside you, causing you to clench around him. He shuttered at the feeling, sloppily fucking you before he released ribbons of warm cum inside you.

He slipped his cock out of you, turning you over and sliding in the space next to you. You rested your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as you both came down from your everlasting high. He kissed your forehead attentively.

“Was I too rough, angel?” Taehyung asked worriedly, running his hand down your shoulder to your arm until his hand reached yours, grabbing it tightly.

You smiled up at him softly, eyes filled with unadulterated love. You squeeze his hand in response, rubbing small hearts on his chest with your other hand. Bodies entangled on the sofa with silent admiration closing the minimal space.

[chaseadrian]

fragile concessions

you don't mind leaving Eddie to his devices in your bedroom as you shower, you don't mind even more when you catch him taking advantage of the opportunity. [masterlist]

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, voyeurism, pillow humping, invasion of privacy, friends to lovers, handjobs, blowjobs, facesitting, mutual masturbation, light backstory aka porn w some plot, fluffy ending word count: 4.2k+ a/n: yeah yeah i know i've been gone a long time. hope y'all like this <3

Rifling through your dresser, you’re startled by a knock at the window. You bring the sweater in your hands to your chest instinctively, and step backward as you look through the glass. 

Black leather and ring clad hands wiggling a ‘hello’ from outside are more than enough to calm your nerves. 

“Morning, Eddie. You’re way early.” You push the curtain out of the way, muscling the old pane open, “Why didn’t you use the front door?” 

“I knocked!” He grunts as he climbs over the ledge, clamoring for your forearm when he loses balance. 

Your nails sink into the leather sleeve of his jacket, and you cock your head, “You did?” 

He looks up at you with a smile, brushing his wrinkled shirt, “No. Just wanted to see your bedroom. You never let me in here I—wow.” He reaches out for the chiffon fabric of your canopy bed, pointing at the cushion of pillows at the head, “Feel like I’m in a palace. Silk pillowcases? Classy.” 

The sweater knots into your arms as you cross them, “Weirdo.” 

Leaving him to wander, you pull a fresh towel from the hall closet, yelling back, “Well, get comfortable. I still have to shower.”  

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” 

You linger by the adjacent bathroom door, looking halfway over your shoulder to watch him explore. 

Eddie runs his knuckles over your belongings like they’re the most delicate objects in the world. Grazing over the rim of dust on your dresser’s edge, he scrapes it off on his jacket with a touch closer to his typical gentility. 

He threads the loose corner of your pillow through his fingers, and hops backward onto the comforter, settling into the mattress with a familiarity you aren’t sure he’d earned. 

You yell again from the bathroom, door half cracked, “I just washed those.” 

He adjusts his legs to hang off the bed, kicking his old sneakers onto the shag rug, “My apologies.” Grabbing a spare pillow to hold over his stomach, he’s half sat up against your headboard, tapping his fingers on the silk. 

You can hear him humming from your room as you shower. The softness in his voice when he thinks you can’t hear him always makes you smile. His kindness had a bite to it; if you asked for the shirt off his back, he’d throw it at you. 

Sometimes you like to watch him when he thinks he’s safe to shuck off his harsh, protective cloak and just be Eddie. The Eddie that leaves out a can of tuna by the trash for the trailer park cats, or carries the neighbor’s wandering toddler home on his shoulders. These little concessions towards fragility—like the soft hums with your silk pillow in his lap—remind you why he’s in your life. 

The bathroom clouds with steam while you settle into the hot water, humming along to his voice, reaching blindly for the shampoo. You shake the bottle over your head and squeeze, only to be hit with a puff of air and a few pathetic pearls of lather. It isn’t even worth it to scrub the remnants in, and you pop out of the shower with a groan, tossing the empty bottle into the sink.

If Eddie were to try and sneak a peek right now, the thick, fluorescent steam would ruin his show. Still, you pull on the robe hanging behind the door. You’re sure you bought new shampoo, sure it must be under the sink, but you freeze before you can even take a look in the cabinet, half kneeling with your fingertips wedged against the wood.

It’s silent in your bedroom. 

Eddie’s no longer humming, and when you turn on your toes to peek beyond the door you can just see his silhouette behind the thin canopy.

He’s on your bed as before, pillow over his lap, but now his hips rock up, knuckles white in the silk case. 

The cabinet door slips from your fingers, clapping shut, stopping Eddie in his tracks. 

He looks to the bathroom, and you dart behind the door.

“You okay?” He yells, obvious strain cut with even more obvious panic. 

“Fine! Almost dropped the shampoo!” You shout back, sitting down on the edge of the tub, wringing the string of your robe between your fingers. 

You don’t know if you want to look again. 

Eddie was always over familiar. Always controlling the situation, the ringleader who branded his group with every rough touch. Fingers hard on your neck, a peanut flicked your way at the bar, judgment in his smile.

All this to keep you—and everyone else—at arm’s length. The clothes, the hair, the rings, they did enough to keep most people away. But the ones who looked past that, they got the neurosis and informality. You know him more than he thinks, more than he allows, and you aren’t against taking that initiative.   

Of course you want to look. 

This is far deeper than you ever thought you’d get. 

Slipping off the edge of the tub, you crawl over to the door, inhaling a big breath of steam, robe damp and sticking to your body. 

You feel safe enough sitting on your knees to watch him, enough layers of steam and fabric and poor vision between you and him to keep this mutual intrusion a secret. If you were to argue it, Eddie using your pillow to get off is probably a bigger invasion than you watching him do it, but the shame was the same. 

One hand presses the pillow into his pelvis, the other pets along the grain of the smooth fabric, fingers touching down one after the other.

Sometimes Eddie taps you on the head with a ringed knuckle when you’re being smart. This feels like the gentle variant of that. 

Though his lips are parted, you can’t hear anything outside the hammer of the shower. A playback of all his dramatic grunts and scoffs loops in your head instead, and you see the way his Adam's apple thrums in his throat with every note of pleasure. 

It’s easy to piece together the way he could look behind that hazy chiffon, his chest rising and falling, slow to combat the noise he wants to make. The knee hanging off the bed just peeks out of the canopy, and he pushes up against your pillow using a firmly planted foot. You know the way his tendons move in his hand as he grabs tighter, presses harder. 

You make up the sound of his zipper sleeves against the pillow, a soft kind of scratching that could catch at any moment. If you hadn’t seen him now, you would’ve blamed him for being so careless with your stuff later. His name would’ve been the first in your head when you noticed the imperfection. 

But everything about right now is perfect. 

You can’t say there’s an established attraction, exactly. A curiosity, sure, little question marks in your head every time he calls you pretty with that surface grin. Maybe a dream or two in the years you’ve known him, dreams where he pulled you in from arm’s length. Not romantic, never that, but close and real and earnest.

If this is the closest you get—a voyeur to your own invasion—then you’ll take it for all it’s worth. At least you know he really thinks you’re pretty. 

You sit in stunned silence for a minute more before new movement startles you back behind the door, and when you peek again, Eddie has both feet on the bed, his knees pulled toward him, thrusting up harder against the pillow. It’s still slow, but he’s sunken into the deep plush of your comforter, hair blanketing his head. His features are distinct enough, the curve of his open mouth, the valley of his throat, you can carve expressions from familiar topography. 

It’s from this position that a weak moan cuts through the pattering water, and—for what you think is the first time—you feel something more than curiosity. 

Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and he presses two harsh fingers between his eyebrows, smudging his fingertips across his forehead in what you’re sure is frustration. 

You’ve gone past filling the gaps of what you know, the pulpit of your stomach swirling with thoughts of more moans, how it must feel under the rough hew of his jeans, what he’d do if it were you on his lap, and whether he’d accept you there at all. 

For all his drama and fire, Eddie couldn’t sit in discomfort. He loved being the discomfort, but if it turned on him he was like a cornered dog. 

As you continue to watch him, the swirling in your stomach slips down, and for now a hand between your legs is enough to calm this bud of interest. 

The floor is slick under you, steam quick to fill the space of your parted thighs, heat on heat crushed under the just pruning skin of your fingerprint. You sigh, chest stuttering against relief. Slow, concentrated breaths quell any noise you’d want to make as you swirl your middle finger over your clit, Eddie’s moan looping in your brain. 

You focus on the line of his figure, the indent he’ll leave in your bed when he gets up and tries to pretend he’d been peacefully laying there the whole time. 

Without trying, your brain fills in gaps of space in your time with Eddie. Every time he left a party before you, a quick ‘I’ll wait for you in the van. No rush.’ and a tap on the shoulder. Trips to the 7/11, insistent that he must surprise you with snacks for the session, or each time you lost him in the bar, distracted by drifters who thought a beer or two would get you back home with them. 

The memories are tinged now with the sight of his arching back, his parted lips, and that singular moan. 

The thoughts carry you as far as they can, and the sight of him behind the curtain even more, but the rhythm of your fingers isn't what you want. It grows as stale as you hope that pillow must be for him, and with a sharp swallow you stand up to turn the shower off. 

It takes a minute to gather yourself, roughing your hair with the towel to shake off what nerves you can. You face yourself in the mirror, dewy glass blurring your body into something amorphous. You can contend with this fuzzy figure, gazing over your shoulder to watch it slip past the bathroom door. In your mind’s eye, it’s not you taking this risk, but the reflection. It’s enough to get you into the bedroom. 

Eddie has his ankles crossed and an arm behind his head, and he taps his fingers over his stomach as you approach, still roughing your hair as you enter. 

“All cleaned up?” He asks, his eyes following you until he’s looking up through his lashes, a quick flick to the space next to him before he meets your eyes again. 

You sit where he’d looked, tossing the towel into a laundry basket opposite the bed, “Mhm.” 

There’s a long moment of your eyes on his, and he snaps out with a shake of his head, and that stupid grin, “Shit, sorry, you probably want to get dressed, huh?” 

As he pushes to sit up, you close the space between you, your mouth just pressing against his. He pulls back with wide eyes that dart around your face, and he keeps a hand on your shoulder to hold you away. 

His lips form and abandon several words, but before he can get a noise out, you cut the space, “I saw you.” 

He jerks his head back, swallowing hard and looking past you now. More sentences starting and stopping without a thought fully formed. 

You feel the hand on you loosen, see him shift in front of you, but there’s no easy way for Eddie to escape the situation. 

“It’s okay.” You start reaching over for the hand on your shoulder, and he flinches. 

“It’s okay.” You repeat, voice quieter and firmer, and he lets you take his hand, lets you guide it from your shoulder to the pit of your throat, over the drying beads of water between your breasts, and under the plush cotton collar of your robe. 

His hand cups around you, rings warm and sticking to your skin, your fingers loosely wrap around his wrist for a moment before he accepts where you’ve left him. 

You both let out a slow breath. Eddie’s starts with a hitch, but settles into something calm and certain. He doesn’t meet your eyes yet, they’re trained on the concealed hand, resting dead over your breast. 

Placing two fingers under his chin, you coax him to look at you, your thumb brushing under his bottom lip, a few out of place dots of stubble pricking at your skin. You don’t think he could grow a beard if he tried, but random hair sprouts around his jaw from week to week, pimples following if he plucks them too late. 

You bring your nose close to his, and he tilts up almost imperceptibly, tongue darting between his lips. 

That first kiss was so brief you already can’t remember what he felt like, but the calm heat of his breath on you is steady, warm and inviting, and his eyes glisten as he looks at you. 

His palm is heavy under your robe, thumb running back and forth ever so slightly, catching on the natural pull of your skin. 

You let your eyelids slip closed, and finally he kisses you. 

It isn’t harsh or fast and it doesn’t light your insides up the way your imagination did, but you’re sure you’ll remember it for the rest of your life. His bottom lip trembles for the first second, slick and soft, and you feel the scratch of those loose facial hairs against your chin. The hand beneath your robe squeezes shut, the warm metal of his rings sticking and unsticking with a little sting as he builds confidence in the moment. 

The hand he’d kept on the bed comes up to curl over the slope of your neck, and as you lean into him he slides the collar of the robe down past your shoulder. It sits against your bicep, not revealing anything he’s not sure you’d want, but enough to let him kiss down your jaw, spattering over the bare landscape you’ve allowed him. 

You slip a hand under the hem of his old t-shirt, pinching at the rolled skin of his abdomen, body curved uncomfortably as he’s half sat up on the bed. 

He backs away from kissing when you push him down onto the comforter, both hands grabbing your arms to bring you with. You stay sat on the edge of the bed, torso twisted to follow him as he wants. 

“Take off the jacket.” You whisper against his mouth, dragging your lips under his jaw and down his throat. You pull his shirt up and fix your hands on his hips, marking the skin down his chest with nips and long kisses. He struggles to tug the jacket off and can only manage the sleeves, leather crinkling under him as he wriggles under you. 

You drag the tip of your tongue over his happy trail, and he watches with quiet interest, fingers gliding over your bare shoulder. 

Eddie isn’t wearing anything under his jeans, you can feel the length of his erection stuffed uncomfortably beneath the denim. 

“Ohh, please.” He whispers, more breath than anything else. 

You hum with a smile, watching him as you unbutton and unzip and tug the bottoms down his thighs. 

His hand hovers over the back of your head, nails just touching down along your hair, and he settles for resting it on your back. 

He isn’t over or under-endowed, you can comfortably wrap a hand around his base and hold the rest of him in your mouth without strain, but you start with the hand. Dribbling a mouthful of spit over his tip, you slip your fisted hand down the shaft, thumb pressing into the rim of his head. He holds back expletives, syllables drawn out and dying behind his teeth. You’re slow, gliding your hand over his length and watching the wrinkles as he screws his eyes shut and pushes his hand over his forehead, bangs fraying out of place. 

His cock thrums under your hand, and you squeeze his thigh as it jerks, quick spasms of enjoyment relieving tension. 

You wait until there’s obvious pressure in his chest, until his Adam’s apple is taut against his throat, and he can barely eke out breaths. 

Without knowing, he gives you what you want as you swirl your tongue around his tip for the first time. He can’t hold back the languid, whimpering moan that escapes his open mouth, all the air in his lungs expelled with it. 

Watery, salty precum slides over your tongue, and you close your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you work down his shaft. Spit pools into your mouth and over your bottom lip, and as your chin brushes the hair at Eddie’s base, you feel sweat and spit drying on the skin. 

Eddie’s hesitance falls away as he starts to lose himself, the hand on your back coming up to gently push down your head, not forceful, exactly, but wanting. He whimpers with increased impatience the harder you work him, the hum of your mouth around him an added jolt of pleasure. 

You break for a moment to suck marks into the sharp angle of his hip bone, your hand a warm substitute that still pulls beautiful noises from him. He hisses against the kiss, the curve of his belly heaving with full breaths. He has faint marks of muscle definition when he flexes against your touch, but his abdomen rounds with every intake of air, and you press your lips along his pelvic line to feel the way he’s working through your touch. 

Kissing the bush of hair around his shaft, you run your thumb over his head, your tongue flat against his base, dragging up to lick away the new dribbles of precum. 

He lets your name fall from his lips, and a mewling, strained, “Please…keep going…” with his nails combing over the back of your head. 

You take him entirely in your mouth once again, and he ruts up, hitting the back of your throat. You swallow the near-gag, and Eddie’s laughter—tied into an apology— hits your ear, the first instance of that rough-hewn boy you’re used to. 

In response you curl your free hand around his balls and give them a light squeeze, clutching them against the base of his shaft to compress the tension he must be feeling. You imagine it’s a tight, coiled pain in his stomach, and it’s your greed more than anything that keeps him from relief. 

Eddie wriggles underneath you, his body twitching outside his control, incomplete requests for release dying on his tongue. 

What he finally chokes out is an ill timed warning, his orgasm already spilling into your mouth by the time he tells you he’s going to come. It’s warm and salty down your throat, and if it came from anyone else it would be an off-putting sensation that you’d be quick to spit out, but with Eddie paralyzed under you as he finishes, no taste could be sweeter or more satisfying. 

You don’t even have time to swipe the sleeve of your robe over your lips before he’s tugging you up to his mouth. 

This kiss is harsh and deep and the hand on your head presses you hard into him. His tongue twists over yours, warm and slimy, loud smacks between you with every kiss. 

You’ve no choice now but to climb on him, straddling his stomach, his hand coming down to slide the robe entirely off. Your knees nick on the sharp parts of his jacket, but it’s a pale feeling compared to the heat of your bodies and his hands burning into your skin, branding your hip as you grind on him. 

“Hey, hey.” He pulls you back with a hand on your cheek, thumb tugging at the bulb of your cheekbone. You’re both flustered and disheveled when your eyes meet, and you feel you could fall forever into the pit of that dark brown. “Sit on my face.” He breathes, kneading at the skin of your ass, gaze trained on your reaction. 

“Yeah?” You ask, the throbbing between your thighs ever present as you’ve stilled on him. 

He nods, his hand slipping from your cheek to coast down your body and rest on your other hip. They coil underneath your thighs to hold you as you re-situate yourself over him, hovering just above his mouth, a little hesitant to drop your weight on him. This felt somehow more intimate than a blowjob, smothering him with your body, the full potential of your spasms direct and right there on his tongue. 

Eddie didn’t care, he forced you down with his arms, and you lurched forward against the headboard, one hand wrapping over the edge, the other a buffer between your forehead and the hardwood. 

The pleasure was instant and overwhelming, Eddie’s tongue indistinct in its movement, lips and spit and the tickle of his nose worming their way through your body. 

His grip was tight on you, arms wrapped around your thighs, and the soft curl of his hair rustled under your skin. He doesn’t move you over his tongue, but rather keeps you still, tries to stop you wriggling and doing the work yourself. You oblige best you can, holding the headboard tighter, biting down into the skin of your forearm, wanting even now to give him what he wants, to let him help you in whatever way he sees fit. He’s giving you more of himself than you ever imagined he could, and more than anything you just want to languish in this moment for as long as you can. 

He hums underneath you, satisfied little hums that rise and fall with his focus. 

It’s when you go silent—your breath caught in your chest, moans stuck in your throat—that Eddie starts rocking you over his mouth. The heat in your stomach is unbearable, and you gasp as he guides you back and forth over his tongue, everything below his nose a wet, slobbering mess, just as much from you as it is him. You slip against him with ease, grinding harder and faster, any worry you had about smothering him long gone with the ever-winding spiral of ecstasy that sits in your belly. 

Tighter and tighter it curls, the rocking of your hips uneven and desperate now. 

Eddie slides his hands as far as he can up your back, combing lines down your skin with his nails, and you wriggle closer to the headboard, so close to the end that every touch is torturous. 

You haven’t spent half as long with his head between your thighs as he did with your lips around his cock, but any shame you could possibly feel will come later. You just want the relief, to unfurl and collapse and let him feel you shaking over the knack of his tongue. 

You drop entirely onto him, his tongue swirling over the pulsing nub of your clit, and he grabs you as hard as he can, just as needy and wanting. 

He groans underneath you, and your vision explodes behind your eyes. 

Spasming and shaking, he holds you as you come undone, tilting his head up as the orgasm sends you backward to lay on his chest. He doesn’t stop running his tongue over your clit even as it becomes overwhelming, wanting to capture every last dredge of your climax. He laps up the arousal that wells from you, sucking kisses between your lips. 

The euphoria layers in your body like waves of radar, one after the other until you’re begging him to let you go. You can’t quite catch your breath, wheezing as you try to pull air into your lungs, evening out as the radiation of pleasure cools to satisfaction. 

You roll off him onto your stomach, resting your head in your arms to look back at with a smile. 

He pushes his bangs up and shakes his head with a laugh, “Nuts.” He squeezes your calf. 

You both sit in the moment, a comfortable silence between you with his hand resting on your leg.

Silence wasn’t golden in your experience with Eddie thus far. If there wasn’t conversation, there was music; if there wasn’t music, there was his humming. Any quiet with Eddie around was borne out of tension, but now you feel a deep tranquility even as the cool air of the still-open window hits your bare skin.

He runs his fingers gently back and forth, and the both of you let out a content sigh at the same time. 

“J—”

“—inx! Ha!” Eddie is a hair faster, and he jiggles your calf in accomplishment before shifting to mirror you on your stomach. He hovers in front of your lips, muscling you over a bit with his shoulder, “Owe me a…kiss?” 

You let your head fall into your arms, a kick of giddiness in your stomach, but you come back to meet his lips. 

There’s a smile in this kiss, you think maybe there could be more. Kisses, smiles, whatever you can get. 

Whatever Eddie can give. 

[crash-and-live]

So I haven't written anything in a long time, let alone published anything, but I thought I'd give things a try with @bunnyreaper's Secret Santa writing fest. My recipient is @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff. Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: John Price x GN!Reader (male pronouns used) with slight John Price x Reader x Simon Riley but a lot is left up to insintuation.

Summary: You're a civilian with a curious neighbour whom you rarely see, yet manage to get roped into taking care of his place when he's gone. You've known him for a while and your relationship slowly develops as the festive season approaches.

Domestic fluff mostly, playful banter and all but essentially a nice lil feel-good fic. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k

The night air was warm as you walked to the door of your flat, reaching into your pockets for the familiar feel of your keys. Pulling them out, you click open the lock before glancing over at your neighbour’s door. You hadn’t seen him much over the years, even less so recently. There were about two times you could recall hearing him move around the small flat in the past couple of months, before he vanished again soon after. He’d always been nice to you, in a gruff sort of way. Asked you to mind his plants on his balcony next to yours which wasn’t too hard. It clearly meant something to him as he always left a thank you note under your doormat with a small token of gratitude. 

He had said he travelled for work, and he wasn’t kidding. Every small item he’d left on your doorstep had been from a different country. Either a small trinket or stamp from places all around the world. You almost wished you could leave him something, but whenever you heard him next door and made plans to visit the next day, he was gone again. It tugged at your heart slightly, the amount this man, John, he’d introduced himself as that first time you’d met him, spent at work. It seemed to consume his life. He’d never had a visitor. Never gotten a parcel or a letter. Not once. No friend or relative ever knocked at your door asking for a ‘John’. It made you wonder… just who exactly was your neighbour? 

Shaking your head, you pushed your way inside and closed the door behind you, locking it before dumping your bags onto the small table before sprawling onto the couch, groaning in relief. Today had been hard. Not only had work been tough, but approaching the busy period brought a whole new level of stress. You could already feel your eyes fluttering shut before you heard a crash coming from next door, followed by a gruff noise. You couldn’t fight the grin that spread over your cheeks as the tiredness left your body. He was home. 

✯

“Sorry that I disturbed you.” His voice was husky, like you’d remembered as your eyes traced his face. His skin was weathered and his beard quite bushy, as if he’d been unable to access a mirror for a while. You’d gone over just to be friendly, to welcome him home because he must be lonely, to check on him and be nice. Or at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself. 

“You didn’t, truly. I’m almost glad I heard you. It’s been a while.” A soft smile spread over your lips as you took in his rugged appearance. Whatever he’d been gone for, you could tell it had taken a toll on him. Lines were heavy on his face and his shoulders were slumped. His eyes weren’t focused like they usually were, instead choosing to check every corner of the flat as if he were expecting something to jump out of the shadows. Your brows furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?” 

“Don’t concern yourself with me, kid. I’ll be fine.” He shuts down the conversation because it could even begin. Pursing your lips, you nodded in acknowledgement. It was the one thing you’d noted about him. He was fine talking to you, asking about you and your life, but immediately shut the conversation down when it came to him. “Just been a rough few months.” 

Kid. He always called you that. A constant reminder of how he saw you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, but practically, you also knew it would never work. So, you sucked it up, soaked in every chance of communication you could with this man. “Anything I can do to help?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but there was a hopeful lilt to it. John simply chuckled, shaking his head as he did so. 

“No, kid. You’re fine. You do enough for me.” 

“I water your plants, John.” You mused, fingers clutching at the glass he’d slid across the bench to you. “I think I can be a little more of service if you need, even if it’s just company.” 

John smiled, kindlier this time. “You calling me lonely, kid?” 

“Am I wrong?” The corners of your mouth quirked up into a smile in response to his own. 

“I have friends. All of them are like me though. A little off the grid, rough around the edges. Work consumes my life. I don’t have a lot of time for anything else.” His response was measured, as if warning you not to press any further. As if he’d already said enough. You sucked your teeth and gave a half-hearted shrug, letting the matter drop. 

✯

The next time you saw him was a few weeks later. You were bringing groceries in the late afternoon as he was leaving, heavy bag slung over his broad shoulders. He smiled softly when he saw you and you couldn’t help but flash a wide smile to him. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” You said, placing your bags on the front of your door. 

“Had no chance to tell you, kid. Got in late last night and already been called out again.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t really bother him. He would be used to it, you guessed. Didn’t mean that it didn’t take its toll. 

“Ever heard of taking a break?” You gave him a cheeky smile, cocking an eyebrow as he let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Not in my line of work. Always something that needs to be done.”

“Do you need me to do anything for you?” You asked again, hoping he’d take you up on the offer. This time, John remained silent for a beat before nodding. 

“Actually, yeah. Was meant to be home for a bit longer so I bought a bit of food. Take what you want and chuck the rest from the fridge. Don’t think much of it will keep.” He held out his key towards you. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced between his eyes and the key in his outstretched hand. You nodded in response, reaching out and taking the key from his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm. 

“Thanks.” His voice pitched down slightly, the gruffness sending a shiver down your spine. John gives you a slight nod before glancing at his watch. “Gotta run. I’ll knock on your door for the keys when I get back, yeah? Or if it’s easier, chuck ‘em on my balcony. I’ll get in either way.” And then he was gone before you could even say goodbye. 

You stood there, looking down the corridor where he’d turned the corner before glancing down at the keys in the palm of your hand. It was plain, with two keys and a leather strap with no markings. But it was him. Closing your fingers over the cool metal, you turned to your groceries, picking them up and taking them inside, set on composing yourself for a few moments before you ventured into his flat. 

You’d been in his flat a few times before, but never been past the open plan of the main area. This time, you resisted the temptation to snoop through his belongings, despite the nagging curiosity. He was clearly a private man, who didn’t like to share his personal business. What kind of betrayal of trust would it be for him to hand you his keys, only for you to be nosey and intrude? You didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you dutifully went to his fridge and cupboard, and emptied them as he requested. 

That became a part of your regular routine. He left you his keys when he went away, told you to help yourself to whatever remained of his food. At first, you harboured some sense of guilt over it, taking his food. But as time went on, you convinced yourself he’d been buying more food especially for you, even going as far as to buy a few packets of your favourite treats that always went untouched by him, saved for you. Your cheeks burned at the thought of him thinking about you. So you repaid the favour in kind, making a few extra meals and placing them in his freezer, so he’d have something to eat when he came home.

✯

Amid your usual dinner preparations at the end of the working week, a sharp knock rang through your flat, impatient, and demanding. John never usually knocked like that, you thought, furrowing your brows as you made your way to the door. Maybe he’d had a rough time at work and was more tense than usual. Upon opening the door however, your eyes widened as you noticed a giant of a man, a black balaclava with white markings on his face. The only part of him you could see was his eyes, dark and steely as he held out his hand. 

“Keys.” His deep voice was cold as he stared down at you imposingly. 

“I’m sorry?” You wished your voice was a little firmer but given the sheer size and presence of this man, you could forgive yourself. 

“Keys.” He said again, more impatiently. “For the guy next door. Sent me to grab them for him.” Brows pinching together, you shook your head. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Don’t be dense.” He snarled, stepping closer to you, eyes narrowing as he pushed himself over your threshold. Breath hitching, you stepped back, trying to close your door on the stranger, but he barred it with his arm. “Need the keys for John’s flat. Now.”

“Simon!” A familiar voice snapped from down the hall. “Don’t be hostile. He’s not a threat.” John appeared around the corner, hugging his side as he groaned, leaning against the cool stone. His face was pale and bruised, causing your eyes to widen further. 

“John!” Not caring about the stranger in your doorstep, you pushed past him, rushing towards your neighbour. “Are you okay? What happened?” Your voice was panicked as you rushed over to him, hands fluttering around his battered body. Letting out a weary sigh, John pushed off the wall. 

“‘M fine, kid. Just been a rough few days.” He placed a large hand on your shoulder reassuringly, squeezing it tenderly before nodding over to the man by your door. “Don’t worry about him. He hasn’t got manners like me.” 

You flushed slightly, looking back at the other man, Simon, as John had called him. Tracing your eyes over his face, you could see him squint and cock an eyebrow, as though waiting for you to comment. But you don’t. Instead, you reach into your pocket and grab out the keys to John’s flat, throwing them to Simon. 

“The deadbolt is the gold one, door handle is the silver.” Simon nodded and turned to John’s door as you looked back around to face your neighbour. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can bring you anything. First aid? Towels?” But John shook his head. 

“No, kid. I’ll be alright. Got Simon.” He said weakly, pushing off the wall as Simon stomped over, hooking John’s arm over his shoulder before he rushed inside, kicking the door shut with his heavy boots, causing it to slam in your face. 

The next morning, you were out on your balcony with a coffee when John pushed open his door for his morning cigar. He stopped when he saw you out there, before glancing inside hesitantly. 

“Your friend doesn’t seem to like me.” You mused, guessing that was the cause of John’s wariness. Your sly remark was rewarded with a hearty chuckle, cut short by a wince as he clutched his side. Your brows pinched together at the reaction and he noticed the concern laced in your features. 

“I’m fine, love. I’ve had much worse than a few cracked ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Heat coursed through your body at the term of endearment. He’d never said that to you before. Suppressing a grin, you met his warm eyes, crinkling slightly with a reassuring smile as the cigar smoke surrounded him. “And don’t fret too much about Simon. He’s a just grumpy lad.”

“He could do with taking a few etiquette lessons.” You grumbled, but the corners of your mouth twitched upwards and was met with yet another hearty chuckle from John, the sounds making your heart race.

“You’re a good lad too. Thanks for taking care of the place. I appreciate it.” The mood softened between the two of you as the cold morning wind picked up. You shivered. “Tell me, why’s your heating unit not been on? Weather’s been right chilly.” Inwardly, you cursed that he’d noticed, but of course he would. He’s been far more observant than any person you’d come across. Shrugging, you replied.

“Broke a few days ago. Haven’t been able to get anyone in to fix it, being so close to Christmas and all. Everyone’s either finishing up for the year, or already fully booked.” John clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Can’t be having that now love, can we?  I’ll give it a look later but, in the meantime, come over to mine. Want to make sure you’re warm in this weather.” Blinking, you raised your head to begin to protest, but he’d already stubbed out his cigar and turned to his door. “Come on, love. It’s almost Christmas after all, no one should be alone and cold. Let us warm you up.” Was all he said before stepping inside and closing the door behind him, leaving you to ruminate.

Exactly ten minutes later, you were outside John’s door, stomach twisting as you thought about his earlier words. Us. Meaning he wasn’t alone. Meaning Simon was still here. Running your thumb along your knuckles, you debated heading back into yours when John’s door was pulled open. Except it wasn’t John standing there, but Simon. His large, hulking frame taking up most of the space in the doorway, and making you tilt your head up slightly to look into his eyes, the only part of his face visible under the mask.

“You gonna stand there gawkin’ at the door all day?” His words were gruff, but the sentence might have ended with a huff, as if he were making fun of you. Your stomach twisted even more at the rough timbre of his voice. Biting your lip, you decided to throw a bit of cheek to him.

“You gonna slam the door in my face again?” Your ears didn’t deceive you this time as Simon let out another huff, this time leaning against the door frame as his arms folded and head tilted, eyes carefully focused on yours.

“There were more important things to do than chit-chat.” Right. That was a fair point on his part. The two of you entered a silent stand-off, which mostly consisted of you looking anywhere but him as his hard eyes drilled into you.

“You letting the lad in or what, Simon?” John called out and Simon chuckled, eyes crinkling as he stepped aside, head cocking to gesture you in. As soon as your foot entered the flat, you moaned in relief, the warm air circling around you, unsticking your cold joints. Your face instantly heated as you realised the noise you’d let out in the presence of the two men and you ducked your head.

“That good huh?” Simon said lowly, brow raising slightly as he brushed past you, chest against your shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. John had an arm looped over the back of the couch, smiling, waving you over to join him on the couch. Once you sat down, John placed his strong arm around your shoulders.

“Better, yeah?” He asked, raising his brow enticingly. “Can’t be having my sweet neighbour cold when he’s taken such good care of me.”  You face hadn’t quite calmed down from your slip up before, but John’s words brought it all rushing back.

“You didn’t have to.” Your voice was a mumble, eyes glancing over at the telly as it played some holiday movie.

“I did though, love. I really did.” He squeezed your shoulder firmly and you felt your knees weaken at his strength. “Noticed you didn’t do much last year over Christmas and couldn’t have a repeat of that. Not when you’ve been taking such good care of me.” Finally, you picked up the courage to meet his eyes and you saw the intensity there. “Let me take care of you for once, yeah? Let us take care of you.”

Glancing up, you noticed Simon lurking in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes carefully watching the pair of you. Swallowing, you glanced back at your neighbour, his eyes boring into your expectantly. And you only had one answer for him.

“Yes. I want you to take care of me… sir.” John grinned, eyes creasing as his head threaded through your hair to cup the back of your head.

“There’s a good lad for me. Gonna take real good care of ya.”

If there are mistakes, please let me known. As I said, it's been a hot minute.

[book-place]

Toddlers and Toys

Warnings: mentions of child abandonment, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Crowley x daughter reader, Aziraphale x daughter reader

*not my gif*

Summary: It’s Christmas day, but you appear to be the only one in your household to care

A/N: Welcome to the bonus day of Book Places 12 Days of Christmas Celebration

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Daddy! Papa!” You cheered, little feet pattering loudly against the carpeted floor, “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Crowley groaned, turning his face to bury it further in his pillow, “Shut her up, Angel.”

“You’re the one who wanted her,” His husband mumbled back, eyes not even opening as he responded, already drifting back off into a slumber.

“Well, I didn’t know that she planned on getting up at the crackass of dawn everyday.” He grumbled back.

You giggled at your fathers antics, hopping up onto their bed and jumping in between them, eyes dazzling with excitement as you shook the bed to try and stir them from their sleepy states.

“It’s Christmas!” You repeated.

“I heard you the first time.” Crowley grumbled, “Now go back to bed.”

“I don’t wanna-“ You were cut off by Aziraphale pulling you down gently and wrapping his arms around you, snuggling you to his chest in hopes of all three of you being able to go back to sleep.

Crowley and Aziraphale had found you, abandoned by the side of the road, about two years ago, when you were merely three years old.

Shockingly, Crowley had somehow been the one to find it in his heart to want to take you in right away, though it wasn’t as if it took much to convince his husband to feel the same.

“Papa!” You complained, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, “Help me, daddy!” You cried desperately, flailing your arms around to try and grab ahold of your other father.

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to raise your parents from bed, you fell backwards with a huff, ignoring your papas content hum when you did so.

Finally, when their breathing had once again evened out, you were able to slide out of Aziraphales grasp and softly move off the bed before smirking in a way that was all too much like Crowley’s, and flipping on the bright lights.

Crowley automatically hissed dramatically as if the artificial light was blinding him as he brought the covers over his face. Aziraphale, on the other hand, slowly sat up and looked around in confusion.

You giggled at the two of them before spreading your arms and jumping up and down, “Come on, daddy! Come on, papa! It’s Christmas!”

Your light haired father released a sigh through his nose before throwing back the covers and getting out of bed when he realized that there was no arguing with you today.

“You too, daddy!” You called, walking over and taking his arm while trying to drag him out of the sheets.

“No,” He complained as he fell limply to the floor, “It’s too early, child.”

Aziraphale smiled softly at the two of you, walking over and scooping you up into his arms, “Come now, Crowley, it is Christmas after all.”

“Yes, yes,” He grumbled, slowly dragging himself off the rug, “I heard her the last fifty times.”

You giggled again, leaning over and planting a sloppy kiss on your fathers cheek.

He sighed, reaching out and ruffling your hair. He never could stay mad at you.

You tugged at Aziraphale’s shirt and whined a little, “Come on, papa, I wanna go downstairs.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, young one.” He chuckled slightly to himself and sent an amused glance towards Crowley, who just crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath a little.

Aziraphale used his free hand to grasp onto Crowley’s, and the three of you made your way downstairs.

As soon as you reached the foot of the steps, you audibly gasped as your eyes widened and little and your head snapped back and forth in wonder.

The entire first floor had been decorated to absolute perfection thanks your dads- and a little bit of miracles- the night before so that it would be ready by the time you woke up.

Christmas lights hung from the ceiling, trees were in every corner with ornaments and shining, bright stars proudly displayed on the top.

An excited squeal escaped your lips as you arrived in the living room, where the biggest tree in the house stood, a bit poorer decorated than the others because the husbands had let you do it a couple days prior.

And underneath, were mounds upon mounds of presents.

You bit your lip- though it did nothing to stop your ever growing smile- and bounced up and down slightly in anticipation.

“Well, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in mock wonderment, “Whatever shall we do with all these presents?”

Said man smirked a little as they both looked down at you, “Why, I don’t know, Aziraphale.” He teased, “If only we had someone to open all of them for us.”

You looked just about ready to burst by then.

“Oh my.” Aziraphel fake gasped as he looked down at you, “Do you think our daughter would possibly be interested in opening all of these gifts?”

You nodded your head vigorously in return.

“Hmm,” Your other father put a hand on his chin as if he were contemplating, “You know what, all right, you can open them, little one.”

You squealed again and pumped a fist in the air, hugging their legs tightly before diving into the wrapping paper and boxes.

On it went, with Crowley and Aziraphel lounged comfortably against a couch, and you ripping open the boxes full of toys, candies, and more that they had both gotten for you.

By the time you had finished, wrapping lay every which way, and you were curled up under the tree, surrounded by all your new things, sleeping steadily.

Crowley scoffed lightly at the sight of you, “And she thought she wasn’t tired.”

Aziraphel chuckled as he looked at you with fondness, “I think she rather enjoyed herself.”

“Indeed,” He lolled his head to face his husband against the back of the couch, “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Crowley.” He said back, taking his husbands hand with a smile.

Ineffable Husbands 😇- none yet

[itsmebytch001]

Based Loolsy on a draft @xxoxobree Hope you like it.

After the incident Miles came to stay with you and Aaron, the house was not equipped to house a third person but you made do, Miles slept on the couch some nights and on the floor on others, most his stuff was still unpacked shuttled away in one corner of your room Sharpie scribbled on the fronts, he had only unpacked some changes of clothing to then stuff in your draws the whole house was so much more cramped everything felt like an overflow to you, but not to Miles he didn’t seem to feel much of anything just vacant looking off out the window most days or sleeping and when he was up and present he’d respond, or excuse himself to the bathroom to softly cry to himself.

But what can be expected of a boy who just lost both his parents?

It was to quick, unexpected like the rug had been pulled out from under you, you remember the look on your Dad’s face when he got the call from the hospital-

“Mr Davis? This is Brooklyn Hospital your registered as Jefferson Davis emergency contact Yes? And what’s your relationship to Jefferson Davis? Siblings? I’m very sorry to have to inform you but Jefferson Davis and his Wife, Rio Morales passed not long ago, their Son is still in the lobby, he’s gone into shock”

And once you arrived in the hospital half a hour later Miles was still sitting in the lobby silently crying to himself, it took him three days to finally speak to you, or to Aaron.

Moving him in was rough, it was Aaron or foster and Aaron was no fool, he knew if Mies were to go into foster he might as well be dead, so for the sake of his nephew he moved him in, and the moving process was rough, to say the least, Miles didn’t enter the house, he stood in the hallway while you and Aaron sifted though stuff, clothing, documents, dishes books anything at all deciding what would and would not be donated, while you were folding Miles clothing and carefully placing them into a large cardboard box you looked out the room to catch a glimpse of your Dad wiping his eyes while holding a NYPD shirt that he later would gift to Miles, along with all of Auntie Rio’s jewellery.

Aaron got real overprotective very quickly after wards taking to too and from places not letting you out by yourself ever, even to see friends you knew he was just afraid of the possibility of you being hurt rationally but really it just felt like he was trying to cage you, lovingly.

Y/n: “But Pa! I promised Misa I’d be there like a month ago I got her a present and everything i can’t just bounce now”

Aaron: “ I know baby, but the streets are hot right now it’s not safe”

Y/n:” she doesn’t even live an hour away this isn’t fair-“

Aaron: “ life is not fair Y/n”

Y/n: “but why?! Am I grounded?”

Aaron: “you will be you keeping raising your voice at me like that��

Y/n: “you know what? Screw this I’m heading out” you said you you approached the door Turing the door knob and pulling it towards you only to have a hand look up over you and press it shit from above.

Aaron: “ don’t be cute Y/n, you pull something like that again I’m going to have to take your keys”

Y/n:” you can’t take my keys I live here?”

Aaron: “ keep running your mouth see what you have left”

Y/n: “uuuuugggghhhhh” you groaned heading back to you room to mope.

Sometimes he would even come into your room at night, just to check you didn’t slip off, he’d know if you had the man can sense it, but just in case just peaking open to the door to see the rise and fall of your chest to confirm to himself you were home and safe, but tonight he didn’t check on you, as he was out on a ‘job’ but you could still hear the soft sound of the heavy breathing coming from the living room…it’s Miles.

You get out of bed causing it to creek, the crying immediately stops in a rushed hush as you hear him rummage in the blankets, you slowly push open the door.

Y/n:”…Miles?”

Nothing

Y/n: “ Miles?”

Miles: “ what?”

Y/n:” you okay?”

Miles:” yeah I’m fine” he said flatly

Y/n:” you sure?”

Miles: “ go back to sleep Y/n”

Y/n:” you are not my father, do not tell me what to do”

Miles: “ well if he were here right now he’d tell you get your ass back to bed”

Y/n: “ if he were here right now he’d tell you not to talk to me that way, jeez just trying to check up on you”

Miles:” I don’t need to be checked up on Y/n I’m not a child”

Y/n: “Oh my God you try and be nice and he spits in your face” you mummer as you shut the door on him and flip back into your bed drifting off for a time, only to hear the creek of your bed room door, you expect Aaron but instead a far smaller man is there in the door way.

Miles: “ Y/n?”

… you hear him but choose to ignore.

Miles: “Y/n” he says louder lightly tapping your shoulder.

Y/n:” what?” You groaned rolling over to face your blanket.

Miles: “move you will you?”

Y/n:” no? This is my bed go sleep on the couch,peasant”

Miles:” bitch move up before a shove you off, you try sleeping on that thing see how your back feels”

He said shoving you to the left as he layed himself next to your right.

Y/n: “ ugh, what ever”

Miles: “I’m sorry… about earlier”

Y/n:” huh?”

Miles:” I said I’m sorry, about earlier”

Y/n: “ it’s fine, just wanted to check on you no need to be so rude”

Miles: “ I know, I know it’s just…I can’t bare it, any of it I can’t keep…keep”

Y/n:” keep what?”

Miles: “ going, I guess”

Y/n: “ what do you mean by that?” You asked conceded.

Miles: “ it’s just so weird…I keep waking up and being confused why I’m at Uncle Aaron’s until I remember…those moments when I don’t know why I’m here are the only okay times…I just…I just”

Y/n:” I know Miles…I know I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my Dad died, I think I’d just collapse”

Miles: “ I don’t like being a burden on Uncle Aa-“

Y/n:” don’t say that Miles, you are not a burden we took you in because your family and we love you, Aaron was never gonna let you go into foster care because that place is just a trap”

Miles: “ I know but…it’s so cramped and I’m eating your food and-“

Y/n:” Miles, nobody gives a fuck that it’s camped and that you eat food like a normal human person, food and space isn’t a problem you deserve a decent place to live that’s all, okay?”

Miles:”…yeah okay”

Y/n:” since you hate the couch so much, I gotta air mattress you could use”

Miles:”…you’ve had a fucking air mattress this whole time and you let me sleep on the couch?”

Y/n:” I thought you liked the couch”

Miles:” it’s studded? You thought I liked sleeping on a metal stubbed couch for real?”

Y/n:” well…yeah”

Miles used his legs to swiftly push you off the bed, and into the floor.

Y/n:” what the fuck?!”

Miles:” YOU sleep on that damm thing Y/n, you tell me how much you like it, I’m having the nice bed for once” he grumbled pushing his face into your pillow.

Y/n: "I-I, well fine" You said exiting your room for the living room sitting on the hard leather studded couch.