#my man really thought tom was going right for the mouth

[prideenvylovehate]

greg's startled face here does something to me fr

like can you even try to imagine what was going on inside his poor little head.

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

[bountycancelled]

something more than friends

(lucy gray baird x reader)

tip me on kofi if you feel so inclined

requested: yep, I hope you like it anon♡

content: a little bit of angst but mainly fluff, men (derogatory), kinda lovesick!lucy gray, jealous lucy gray (we love to see it), pretty intense description of kissing but no smut.

warnings: a very brief mention of drinking, internalised homophobia but it doesn't last long, gay stuff (duh), lowercase intended I know boo I'm annoying.

a/n: I haven't read the book yet so idk much about the covey so their appearance may ooc but that's solely due to my lack of knowledge on them

lucy gray baird never faltered when she sang.

there were very few things that could get under her skin when she was on that stage, strumming her guitar and twirling in her skirt as the district folk stomped along to the beat.

sure, sometimes drunkards and the occasional hung up ex would try to cause a scene, attempting to gain her attention from below, but she would simply roll her eyes, waiting for someone to take care of them so that she could go back to doing what she did best. performing.

so what exactly had happened to make the lucy gray baird, forget a line in a song?

she was quick to remedy her mistake, carrying the tune in such a way that most patrons didn't even notice her mess up. but ironically enough, the very cause of her brain fog noticed. you.

you gave her a worried look, but she brushed it off, willing herself to continue playing as if nothing was wrong. and technically, nothing was wrong. you were there, in the far back of the crowd, wearing a white dress with a drink in your hand. and Lucy Gray didn't mean to be cliché, but you really did look like an angel, something divine that she had the honour of setting her eyes on.

but obviously, she wasn't the only one who thought that.

you were speaking to some man. which was fine, you were always the most gorgeous girl in the room in her eyes and she knew that she wasn't the only one who appreciated your beauty, you were always needing to awkwardly laugh at men's advances and brush them off as best as you could, but you weren't doing that tonight.

you were laughing, a genuine laugh, leaning in to hear his voice over the music, over her singing. she wanted to jump off of the stage and break her guitar over that assholes face, and she couldn't explain why.

she had always known that one day, you'd settle down with a kind man who cared for you (not nearly as much as she did, but that was okay) and then she would see you less and less. but knowing didn't make the taste in her mouth any more bitter.

the first time you told her about a crush that you had, on a boy named Tom, she spent the whole night convincing you that he just wasn't right for you. you believed her of course, rejecting him swiftly the next week when he asked you to go on a walk with him, walking instead with lucy gray, hand in hand.

but then, she did it every time you spoke about a boy, and you started to believe her less and less. 'I think you're just jealous lucy gray, and you don't anybody taking my attention away from you.'

you were right, she was jealous, and the thought of you, with a man, it disgusted her to her core. which is why she took off as soon as her set ended, not even staying for the applause as she searched for you outside.

there you were, and thankfully, you were alone, no undeserving man in sight.

she ran up to you, her brown eyes seemingly sparkling even in the darkened night. "how'd you enjoy the show, darlin'?"

her heart jumped when you smiled at her, your eyes crinkling in joy as you took both of her hand in yours, squeezing them affectionately. "you have the voice of an angel, lucy gray. and I envy the lucky fella who's gonna marry you, and have to serenade them whenever they want."

lucy gray rolled her eyes in a good natured fashion, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach when you mentioned her getting married. "I already serenade you, sweet thing. and im not gonna let some wedding band stop me."

you laughed airily, leading her by the hand towards the lake, where you spent most nights together. you sat down at the edge, laying your head in her lap when she sat beside you. her hand went to your hair, and she fought the urge to by giddy at the sight of your head in her lap, you were just... perfect.

"who was that guy that you were talking to back then? when I was singing, I mean." she asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

you thought back to about an hour prior, picturing every person that you had been with throughout the evening as you tried to recall who she was asking about in particular. "oh! that was matthew, his dad and my dad go way back, but the two of us never really shared their closeness for whatever reason. but after speaking to him tonight I'm a bit upset that I never tried to grow a friendship with him earlier."

she nodded, her cherry glossed lips pressing into a thin line. "he doesn't just wanna be friends with you though, I could see it." you scoffed playfully, raising a brow at her curiously. "you were all the way up on stage, in the middle of your favourite song to perform, and somehow, you could tell that much from so far away?"

she opened her mouth to defend herself, but after realising just how insane the notion sounded when you phrased it in that way, she quickly closed it again. "I'm not gonna let any man take me away from you, lucy gray, believe me when I say that I can't live without you."

your words sent a fury of butterflies in her stomach, and she swore that felt dizzy as you picked your head up, moving your face so close to hers that your noses were almost touching. she wanted to kiss you. god, what the hell was wrong with her? how could she be thinking of you in this way?

despite her inner conflict, she made no moves to create some distance between your faces, selfishly wanting to stay like this for as long as you'd let her. "I wish we could get married." she sighed, her eyes widening at her own words. "I meant- not like, I didn't mean- not in, like, a husband and wife typa way-"

you cut her off with trying to, with a tilt of your head making her suck in a sharp breath. "you don't wanna do husband and wife things with me?" you asked, and she could swear that your voice had a certain tone about it, one that made her cheeks feel blazing and her breaths shallow.

she shook her head, her usually fierce tone reduced to a meek almost whisper. "we can't do those stuff together."

you were too close for comfort. she could feel the tip of your nose against hers and if you leaned in any further, she was sure that she would combust. "who cares if we can't? the more important question is, do you want to?"

inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. she had forgotten how to breath. this wasn't right, she knew that, so why were her lips on yours in a flash, her hands in your hair, around your waist, holding your hands, touching any part of you that she could reach as the two of you kissed? in public, no less?

she couldn't find it in her mind to stop, not when your soft, sweet lips moved in tandem with hers as if you were molded to fit each other. when you pulled away, with lucy gray chasing your lips with an involuntary whine, you held her by the shoulders, a look of concern on your face.

that was when she felt it. the guilt knawing at her stomach, and the tears thar flowed down her face. was she crying because of how overwhelming her feelings were for you? maybe it was because she knew that you would have to hide... whatever had just happened between the two of you.

you leaned your forehead against hers, you sweet voice easing her fear. "I love you." she nodded, not being able to say it back just yet, but she could only hope that you knew. she moved to kiss you again, being startled out of her mind by a girlish scream in the distance.

it was maude ivory, eyes wide and hand slapped over her mouth in shock, with an equally suprised tam amber standing next to her. lucy gray felt sick to her stomach.

"I knew it." tam Amber said with a shrug, moving to sit next to the two fo you as she stared out at the moonlit lake. "no one looks at their friend like how lucy gray looks at you."

"can I be the flower girl? and the maid of honour? and the priest?" maude ivory rambled, laying half in lucy grays lap and half in yours. you simply laughed, explaining that her dream wasn't exactly possible but flower girl was certainly doable as lucy gray watched, tears threatening to fall from her eyes once again. only this time, they were of relief.

the joy she felt in her chest, at the thought that you could be... together in front of the covey was the best gift she could possibly be given. you and her, together. not just as best friends. although it was hard to wrap her head around it, she knew that it was exactly what she wanted and she had it on good authority that you wanted it too.

[cooliestghouliest]

THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

—

It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (1/3)

As of 15th May 2024, these are some of the BEST stories I have read in the fandom. Of course, this is completely subjective and there are many personal factors as to why I crowned them God Tier. 

Mainly:

Reading it for the first time: ‘Oh, this is really good, I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life’

When compiling the list: ‘Oh my god, this fic, man, this fic!!’

There are many other fics that match the first criteria, but for it to be on this list, I needed to have these two reactions.

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!! They’re there for a reason. PLEASE make sure you understand where the story is going to be before reading!!

Without further ado, I present to you, my roman empires:)

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

Best of the Best Authors

Authors that I trust with my life, whose work are ALL incredibly well written. 

COMPACFLT @compacflt

They’re the first person to pop in my head when I was thinking about making this list. No amount of time and words will be enough for me to describe how good their work is. Seriously. It’s on a level I’ve never seen before for fanfiction. The world building, the characterization, the prose, everything. COMPACFLT has a way of understanding these characters, it makes so much sense and fits so well with canon. I’m just at a loss for words. Genuinely the reason I converted to Icemav supremacy.

When We Get Around to Talking About It 

Goose has been dead for a week and a half when Iceman loses his first wingman in a dogfight with six Soviet MiGs over the Sea of Okhotsk. Goose has been dead for thirty years when Iceman loses his second wingman to a surface-to-air missile on the tail-end of a mission he's responsible for: he's sent his family on a suicide mission to destroy a uranium enrichment facility in Russia's Far East. This is the story of those thirty years in the middle. (Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.)

This was the first story I’ve read from them. And it’s so… I don’t have words.  It’s told from Ice’s perspective, filling the gaps between TG and TG:M with added Icemav and Hangster. In my mind this is canon:D

Debriefing (& Other Stories)

"We can start here, I guess. If we're talking about us," Pete says. "Nineteen-eighty-six. The first thing I thought, when I saw you in that O-club, was: Iceman is off-limits. Capital O, capital L." Despite himself, despite the fear, Tom laughs a little. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" "Well, first off, we were competition. And yeah, you were attractive, but then you opened your mouth and I swear. You were just an asshole. Goose is trying to introduce you to me and here I am thinking about how much of an asshole you are. Shut up about Cougar, asshole." "It was supposed to be a friendly competition!" "Yeah, right. So that's what I was thinking: he's attractive, clearly doesn't know how to talk to other men, might be into the proposition if I framed it the right way. But he's an asshole, so this competition is just gonna be friendly." Pete pauses. Then he says, "Ice, you wanna get married?" And that's how they start talking about it. (Or: they finally get around to talking about it. Plus a couple extra stories for good luck.)

Sigh and send COMPACFLT a loving look. This Maverick's POV adds so much to the story without being repetitive. COMPACFLT deliberately tells their story like puzzle pieces, and they complete each other—just like Icemav, if you will. 

The Slider oneshot is truly something else. I was so eager for the upload and kept an eye on their account for updates religiously. To flesh out a character that barely has any source material is an incredible skill to have. And the Bradley oneshot… Omg… My favorite characterization of Bradley, period. 

Tremors & Aftershocks

They both come back to their senses and stop openly crying again eventually. The stitches fall out of the thirty-year-old wounds and the scars fade back to skin-color. Life stops being so painfully raw after a couple weeks back home. You get used to miracles the way you get used to anything else. One day at a time. [Or: 40 years of extras, from 1982-2022. Some true love, some heartbreak, some miracles.]

To me, this one has a different feeling from the other two. More focused on Ice and Mav’s relationship as opposed to the whole plotline. It’s tender and bittersweet and feels like being hugged for the first time and then told that you wouldn’t get another hug in thirty years time.  

What impresses me most is that, if you go to COMPACFLT’s Tumblr account, you’ll see the thought they’ve put for these stories are INSANE. They’re so educated on the military and its history and it adds so much to these characters. I’m not American and all my writing for Top Gun will always stem from google searches and other fics. If you’re a nerd like me and like to read about other’s analysis about topics they know nothing about, I suggest you go to their account and have fun.

COMPACFLT, you have captured my soul with your writing. Thank you for your service and I wish you well in life.

AortaArgent @aortaargent

If you’re looking for an author who can write smut like nothing else, go to their profile. Better yet, click here, and scroll down to the threads they made about girl!Mav and get horny real quick. It’s a shortcut to heaven really. (And yes, I’m still upset that they seem to have left the fandom, but I still hold the stories they’ve left behind close to my heart:)) My favorites:

like a shotgun (needs an outcome)

“Ice gave me a handjob when we did this,” he argues. “Oh, that’s what gets you moving? Seeing who comes first?” With that, Slider takes hold of him, wrapping his hand around and keeping his fist steady. “Go on, baby girl. Fuck it like a good little -” He squeezes Slider’s balls a little harder than he’d imagine is necessarily pleasant. For Slider. It's definitely nice for him. “Fuck,” Kerner chokes out, weakly. Ice sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I told you he bites.” In which there are multiple realisations, improbable numbers of pilots hanging out in a shared shower, volleyball games and verbal tennis. Yes, it's compulsory to wear your dogtags in the shower - never know when you could need identification. (Only kidding, it's for added fuckability.)

It’s so hot... but believable at the same time. BDSM is just one of those things where you read about it and can tell if the author has experience or is just extremely well-informed. 

Eye to Eye 

“Maybe it’s not just us looking to get a piece of you,” Wolf says. He’s right by Maverick’s head, and a shiver rolls down his shoulders in a sweeping tide at the soft click of each word against his ear. “Maybe we offered. You’re so pretty, Mav. It’s not a hard sell.” His hands twitch with the effort of not reaching up to tear off the blindfold and find out if they’re telling the truth or just winding him up. It’s possible. Occupied, blindfolded, he might not have noticed the door opening. More guys could have been in the showers. Two hands circle his ankles, firm over his boots, and hold him steady. Someone else has his left hand, kneading the tendons down the back of it. Anyone and anything is plausible. A continuation. Finally.

HOT DAMN. That’s all.

AortaArgent portrayed Ice and Mav’s relationship as absolute and secure while having fun with Mav’s dynamic with the other guys. All of their works are mind-boggling and simply amazing!

thecarlysutra @icemankazansky

Need I say more? Carly’s one of the most prominent members of the Top Gun fandom. Actually, I trust any member of the Top Gun Old Guard. With Carly, there’s something about their writing that makes me think of discovering an old box of CDs you used to watch relentlessly, dusty and worn, but the nostalgia rushes back and it’s achingly familiar. You can tell they’ve been writing for Top Gun for so long the characters kind of became their own. And when you click on any fic they wrote, you can fall and trust they’ll catch you. My favorites:

and i promise, you're the locksmith

“Is something going on in your neighborhood?” Maverick asked. “Like … a pest problem or something?” “You could say that,” Ice said. “Like … a coyote or something?” “Suitors,” Ice said. Maverick's attempts to woo Iceman are somewhat complicated by the promise Ice has made: Anyone who wants to marry him must catch his cat, which wears the key to his house around its neck on a silver chain. Inspired by the Tumblr legend.

This one’s so cute!!! Ugh, I’m never going to get tired of reading Icemav fall in love over and over again. 

Dreams of Impact

Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Sigh for the second time and send hearts Carly’s way. Basically, Mav gets transported to another universe and weird things happen. I love fics that dabble with the universe, the what-ifs, the what could’ve been. Do you ever have that moment when you make a decision, look back and wonder how life would be if you chose differently? Click on the link and read 🫵

aelibia @topgunreacts

God. aelibia’s just too good. It’s like banger after banger after banger. If you’re looking for an author whose work is a guaranteed good read, click the link and it’ll show you magic. They have Icemav ranging from tender and soft to angsty, portraying all different sorts of love and a way of writing explicit sex that I’ve never found anywhere else. 

I can’t even pick which one’s my favorite because they’re all my favorite. Especially the series they wrote, oh my god. I love them all. However, one that I reread religiously and being giddy over is this:

Wine Dark Sea

Raised by a selkie mother bound to a human man, Ice returns to the human world as a teenager with a singular purpose: to find the source of human strength, and claim it for himself. But after a careless mistake binds him to another human man, Ice is forced to reconsider his most fundamental beliefs: What is the meaning of strength? And what is the cost of freedom?

It’s so silly at times and heartbreaking most of the time. I especially love the later chapters where the evil is defeated and Ice is just being a silly seal while Mav’s being the supportive partner that he is. This fic is the SOLE REASON that my favorite animal is a seal. Thank you for opening my eyes to something that has been so obvious from the start, your majesty aelibia.

I also humbly present these seal drawings because the image of Ice galumphing around a Navy base, complete with wet smacks and people shrieking in horror makes me laugh everyday. That, and the scene where Mav is surrounded by four fat harbor seal pups and reading a story to them. Eleven out of ten. 

This one’s my favorite:}

[kisses4kaia]

in my feelings - tommy shelby

summary; you hate tommy shelby. tommy shelby hates you. from the way he walks to the way he talks, you hate him. and from the same things, he hates you, too. infinitely. imagine your dread when you are put in a position where you are forced to gain thomas’ help.

warnings; smut, angst, enemies to lovers, angry sex, rough sex, piv, and all around dirty fucking filthhhh, oh yeah and a shit tom of cursing☺️

a/n; angsty enemy’s to lovers with tommy shelby?? me thinks yes

PART TWO OUT NOW -

as your father tells you that he has to sell the farm you grew up on, the soil that held so many memories, the land that raised you to be the woman you are today, your heart broke into a million pieces.

because, see, without the land, there would be no places for your horses or other beloved animals to go, meaning you would have to sell them, too.

when the tears began taking a seemingly permanent residency in your eyes, he pulls you into a hug. “no, no, there has to be another way!”

and as the tears stained your fathers coat, he spoke. “there is one thing,”

and that is exactly how you got here. sat across from your mortal enemy since your schoolgirl days, tommy shelby, in his office.

he had that stupid, smug, annoyingly hot, smirk on his face.

“so, you’re telling me, that you need to marry me,” he practically laughed in your face.

“i don’t need to marry you, the farm does. if we get married, then a portion of your income goes to my family. and then, after saving enough, if everything goes right, we can get divorced and we never have to speak again.” you explained.

he nodded. “okay. say i do accept this outrageous proposal, what’s in it for me?”

you figured he may ask that. “my late mothers brother is the chief of police in birmingham. i can make a few calls, get them on your payroll, only without the pay.”

“but i am paying, aren’t i?” he furrowed his eyebrows and nodded once, making a statement more than a question.

he’s a smart man, so you figured he may say that, too. and here came the most humiliating part.

with a sigh, you spoke. “as my husband, you can… have me whenever you want,” you memorized what you were going to say earlier when it came to this, and only spoke from that script.

your voice was low, static, the humiliation of having any emotion in your voice would be too unbearable.

you honestly couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth and apparently, neither could tommy.

you weren’t so bothered by the prospect of fucking thomas, as much as you hated to admit it. it was just knowing that he would definitely hold it over you to the worlds end.

“you’re so desperate to save this farm, that you would let me fuck you whenever i want, however i want? if i pay you? you do realize that’s the definition of whoring?” he was genuinely amused at your proposition.

you scoffed, in disbelief kf his immaturity. “yes, i do realize, thomas. and yes, i really am desperate,”

he seemed to be in thought for a moment before speaking. “and what makes you think i want to fuck you? you’re really so narcissistic?”

you genuinely laughed at this. “you’re one to talk about narcissistic. and you’ll fuck just about anything that moves, i can’t imagine i’d be much of an exception,”

thomas chuckled lowly at this, his face seemingly challenging you. you wouldn’t let yourself be bullied, so you straightened your posture and finally asked. “so?” your voice was flat, almost disinterested.

he stared at your face for a few moments, like he was trying to break past your stoned demeanor.

“alright. we have a deal.” he confirmed. you nodded, fighting back happy tears.

as he held his hand out to shake, you glanced at it once with a silent decline.

“what, you’re ok with letting me fuck you like a whore whenever i want but you don’t want to shake my hand?” he stood, and because you wouldn’t let him have power over you- ironically enough- you stood, too.

“i didn’t realize you were so sensitive, shelby,” you spoke up.

“and i didn’t realize you were so headstrong, shelby,” he enunciated the last word, letting the epiphany set in for you.

oh god, you were going to be a shelby. for at least a few months, you were going to be a shelby.

you tried to make peace with the fact, but the it was just gnawing at you that all of this was plain unfair.

nonetheless, you shook his hand.

—

“what’s she doing here?” arthur’s thick accent sounded throughout the room.

tommy decided it’d be best for you to be there when he informed his family of the arrangement.

“well, brother. that is because she is my soon-to-be wife,” he cut straight to the chase and your eyes widened at his directness

polly nearly spat out her tea, john bursted out laughing, and the whole room was generally in an uproar.

ada, too, was puzzled, but quickly sedated the energy in the room with a loud “shut the fuck up and listen to the man!”

you were sat on a chair next to thomas’ standing body, not speaking.

“you two are getting married? you two? has hell frozen over? can pigs now fly?” john joked, but was serious in his disbelief. and he was right to. it wasn’t a secret that…

it all started in year nine. tommy was a 10th year and obnoxiously ‘cool’. he would hang out with the secondary school boys, sleep with their sisters, and torture anyone who’d let him, and most people did.

he was smart, but so were you, and you would not let him.

you were the only 9th year at the top of a predominantly year 10 class, tommy being a close second.

see, the shelby boy wasn’t used to anybody being better than him in any sense, but you made him get used to it.

he couldn’t stand you. from your way-too-short plaid skirts, to the way your hand would shoot up at every question asked.

he hated how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you in class when you had your hair tied up in a pretty ponytail, gnawing on the eraser of your pencil, your eyebrows twisting in confusion when you couldn’t figure out an answer on a test.

just looking so innocent.

and most of all, he hated the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his aching cock, whispering your name to himself like a prayer until he came hot strings of cum all over his heavy chest.

tommy rolled his eyes at his family’s immaturity. “it’s an arrangement. she needs money, and her uncle is the chief of police. we can take the coppers off our payroll,”

he left out a small detail but you weren’t complaining.

“after a few months, we’ll get a divorce and we can forget we ever crossed paths.” you spoke for the first time in the meeting.

the transaction seemed simple enough to most people in the room, and they all seemed to accept it.

“anyone have a problem with it? speak now or forever hold your peace,” he called out to the room, waiting for a potential objection.

and one never came. “alright, family meeting adjourned,” tommy waved everyone out of the room.

—

the weeks leading up to the wedding felt like they went on forever.

polly dragged you by your wrist to what seemed like a million different modistes and boutiques, dress shops and spas.

it was exhausting, but in bad there is good.

ada became your closest friend. she was the only person who knew about the other condition to you and tommy’s matrimony.

you were friends even as schoolgirls, despite you and thomas’ disdain for each other.

and now she was your best friend, and you felt inclined to make her your maid of honor.

the hours before the wedding were the worst of it. at least six women were in the room at all time, scrutinizing you to the moon and to saturn. they studied and judged every crevice and line on your face and body.

after being poked and prodded at for forever, it was finally time to walk down the aisle and see your soon-to-be husband.

you were in an over the top, yet elegant gown, the purest color of white you’d ever seen, with a sheer veil covering your face.

you did look quite beautiful, you thought as you looked in the mirror. but you couldn’t help but begin to cry.

you cried because you thought the day you’d see yourself in white would be under much different circumstances. you wanted to marry someone you loved, and for that someone to love you, too. and lord knows, thomas shelby did not love you.

even despite your own feelings for him.

ada came up from behind you in the floor mirror and rested her head upon your shoulder. “you look beautiful,” she spoke, noticing, yet disregarding your tears.

“thank you,” you sniffled. “it will all be okay. i spoke to tommy, he’ll treat you well, i promise,”

her words provided some much needed console to you. “thank you, addy. i wouldn’t have made it had you not been with me. thank you, and love you,” you turned to look at her face.

she just smiled and hugged you. “in less than an hour, we’ll officially be sisters. that should prove some motivation to get your ass down that aisle!” she exclaimed, already tugging on your arm to leave the room and enter the chapel.

you laughed and allowed her to pull you away, long since forgotten your woe.

—

“with the power invested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife. you may now kiss the bride!” the priest announced, signaling for you and tommy to get off of your knees and kiss.

as you both rose to your feet, thomas brought his face to yours in a seemingly disinterested kiss, it almost seemed practiced.

it caught you off guard, and caused a deep sadness in your belly, but you shut it down as ada, polly, esme, and all of the female shelby’s came to congratulate you.

you and your new husband were dragged outside to the car, destined for tommy’s estate, where festivities would begin.

the drive was short, and your patience was thinning, as you just wanted this all to be over.

you knew you were in for a long night as people began flooding into your new home.

and like every shelby-hosted event ever, an all-out rager-like party commenced.

thomas would not speak to you. unless, of course, somebody who was none the wiser to your contract would mention how in-love the two of you seemed. then he could not stop smiling at you, holding your waist tight, even sometimes kissing you.

you had never wanted to die more.

you must have drunk atleast eight glasses of champagne by the end of the night, just trying to get through it.

and that is how you spent the rest of the evening. you got through the first dance, you got through the kind old women talking about what an attractive couple you both made, and you got through seeing tommy flirt with other women at his own fucking wedding.

and at last, it finally came time for the party to end. you practically shoved people out of your door, ready to sleep in your no-doubtedly own bedroom.

you knew it was an arrangement, it was a tale as old as time, and yet you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. nothing went the way you wanted, nothing. and at the end, all you had to show for it was a farm. it was actually kind of hilarious.

a maid hurriedly showed you where you’d be sleeping, and as you walked into the room, you realized it was indeed thomas’, with the way papers were stern all over the desk and the whiskey on the tray beside the bed.

she was gone before you could turn and ask any questions.

you groaned and sat down on the settee across the room from the bed, your dress making it impossible to see your feet as you tried to remove your heels.

your hair was next, pulling the many pins out of the intricate hairstyle.

you were almost out of this nightmare of a dress, before your zipper got stuck. “fuck,” you groaned.

“couldn’t wait for me before you started undressing?” your heard thomas’ deep voice from the door. he was teasing you, obviously, but you really weren’t in the mood for it.

“thomas, i’m tired. you try spending 8 hours in a dress of this size, then see if you want to tease me for trying to get out of it as soon as i can,” you quickly snapped back, and also quickly getting frustrated with the zipper.

he seemed to understand that you were not be messed with at the moment, so all he did was approach you, turn you around by your shoulders, and tug the zipper down until the dress pooled at your feet.

you hurriedly stepped out of it and sighed, feeling like the weight of the world was off of your shoulders.

“thank you, thomas,” you said contently, rubbing your shoulders, not realizing your compromising position.

you were half naked, only covered by your meticulously created and tailored white lingerie, and knee-high white socks.

apparently, thomas’ eyes could not force themselves to your face, because even as you realized his gawking and called him out for being so materialistic, he wasn’t seeming to follow what you were saying.

instead, all he did was walk over to you, place his hands on your waist like his life depended on it, and kissed you deeply, the kind of kissed you yearned for at the alter.

you almost got lost in it, before all the horrible memories of this past night came flooding in. you quickly pushed him away and slapped him right across his perfect cheekbones.

“fuck was that for?” he’s asked as if he was taken aback, yet made no effort to move away from you.

you scoffed with a laugh, but nothing was funny. “you know, i would be surprised had i not known you,”

“what are you talking about?” he seemed as though he was getting mad at you being mad, which you caught and fueled your anger further.

you got up in his face, sticking your finger in his chest and spoke condescendingly to him.

“you know, you could at least wait until after the fucking wedding to start to begin practically sticking your dick in every woman you see!”

“we never agreed on loyalty! that wasn’t part of our arrangement!” his voice began to increase in volume as well.

you glued your eyes to his piercingly blue ones and leaned closer to him. “i hate you, thomas shelby.” you whispered, yet your tone was anything but gentle.

“yeah? well, you can bet i hate you more,” he stood straighter, his height forcing to you look up at him.

the two of you stood there, waiting to see who would break eye contact first. he did, looking down at your lips, but just as quickly, he was right back onto your eyes.

“fuck it,” his thick accent almost growled, grabbing your face and smashing his lips unto yours.

this one was different from the one earlier. that one was a feigned love, a lust. this one was angry, hateful, and sultry.

oh, how you hated him, however his aggression intrigued you, making you kiss back even harder, forcing your tongue into his mouth.

your lips stayed connected as tommy walked you back to his desk.

your tongues fought for dominance and only disconnected for air. he fumbled with his belt before sliding off his jacket and removing his shirt.

he roughly pulled down your panties and unclipped your bra with one hand.

“jump,” he muttered into your mouth. you do so and he catches you, preceding to sit you on the desktop.

tommy runs his middle finger down your slit, collecting the embarrassing amount of wetness from you.

he chucked lowly before gripping your hips and lining his cock up with your entrance. “hate me, huh? i don’t think this cunt quite agrees with you,” he teased, but you were quick to rebuttal.

“i don’t think your dick agrees with your supposed hatred for me, either,” and you were right, his cock was painfully hard.

he suddenly decides he’s tired of teasing and pushes his full cock into you, bottoming out when he feels his tip prod at your gummy wall.

a choked gasp was emitted from you, and it sounded like heaven to thomas. he groaned as he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed into you again.

his speed is relentless, showing no mercy for your unprepared pussy. as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

you wrapped you legs around his hips and tangled your hands in his hair before whispering in his ear, “i fucking hate you, hate you so fucking much,”

his growls were animalistic as his thrusts became more determined. “fuck you,” tommy gritted, right before a long since held in moan fell from his lips.

as much as you hated to admit it, you found your orgasm building in your stomach, the heat becoming unbearable.

“oh, shit, i’m gonna cum, oh my god,” you moaned loudly, your pussy tightening around him.

your release came to you in a hot white flash, your back arching impossibly more, your chest pressing against his, and you were on the very edge of the desk now.

a string of curse words and moans flowed from your lips like chords from a song tommy never wanted to end.

you whined at the sensitivity of your cunt, tommy not ever slowing down. “sh, sh, shhh. i know, i know, doll. i’m almost there, just hold on a little longer,”

soon, his hips met yours in one final, deep, long, thrust as he released bands of warm hot cum into you.

“fuck me, y/n,” he let out an exasperated laugh as he pulled out of you, watching the both of yours ecstasy pour from your abused hole.

“i believe i just did, thomas.”

[auroralwriting]

gorgeous

bella ramsey x fem!reader

synopsis: your co-stars just can’t keep their mouths shut about your celebrity crush

guys i fr don’t know if i am back but i love bella so here is this for you all much love <3

“okay, guys, let’s answer some questions!” your co-star, rocky, called from the couch where his phone was propped up on the cushion.

something you and your costars loved to do was go live on instagram. it was a good way to promo your movie and interact with fans. plus it was really fun to goof around with your friends.

cole pushed himself up from the floor and walked over to where you were on the chair, just in frame. he sat on the arm and slung his body over yours. “let’s see, got any good ones?”

“favorite scene to shoot?” rocky asked, squinting his eyes to see.

“guys we can’t spoil the movie!” you laughed along with the others. “but let me just say, any scene with these two is the best.”

cole leaned forward to see. “celeb crush?”

“mines zendaya. tom’s a lucky, lucky man.” rocky shook his head in sadness, all whilest smiling.

“i don’t have one,” you responded as cole and rocky looked shocked.

“uhm, yes you do!” cole yelled.

rocky immediately snitched. “she loooves the last of us, especially when ellie-”

“okay!” you yelled over top of them, “but we all know cole loves emma stone! maybe a little too much.”

“hey!” cole responded, “gwen stacy was my first ever crush! i love emma stone!”

the topic moved forward from there, but little did you know the fans did not.

it didn’t take long for ship edits, tags, and more to be spread across all of social media. as soon as the love ended, it was all you could see. you just hoped that bella wouldn’t see.

-

the night of the infamous golden globes finally arrived. you did your best to work with your stylist on your look. both co-stats thought you looked drop dead amazing, so things were going pretty well.

the press was the fun part. doing interviews was so much fun. sometimes there were challenges or games.

“so, miss l/n, anything you can say about the movie?” your interviewer asked.

“sadly nothing i can say would be acceptable. there’s so many spoilers! this movie has so many twists it’s hard to keep up.” you smiled with a giggle.

your interviewer laughed. “so, on a more personal note, let’s talk love.”

“well, there’s no love here. i’m completely and utterly single, as sad as that is,” you made a tear drop fall down your face with your finger.

“well i hear a special someone is here tonight, bella ramsey would sure be a nice fit for you!”

of course this would happen.

“psh, bella would not be interested in me.”

“are you sure? didn’t you see their tiktok comment?”

tiktok comment? what comment? as far as you knew, you’d checked every edit bella was tagged in, but of course that wasn’t possible. there were hundreds.

the interviewer passed you a phone with the comment up.

@/bellaramsey: 😍

the edit wasn’t even of your comment, just a normal, plain old edit of you.

“it seems bella maybe takes more notice to you than you assume.” the interviewer said.

the interview ended and as soon as you found rocky and cole, you told them what happened. they also looked shocked but encouraged you to follow it through.

and of course bella would be here tonight. why wouldn’t they? the last of us was nominated..

right as you were walking in, you could hear people telling bella’s name on the carpet. as much as you wanted to look, you were being told to go sit to make room for the other celebs coming off the carpet.

you didn’t see them at the after party. you were chatting with some friends, sadie and olivia, when you saw sadie’s eyes drift behind you.

you turned around and saw bella approaching, and god, did he look amazing. their hair was in a bun, glasses, a maroon suit to go with it all. maroon was a good color for him.

“hey, y/n, it’s nice to meet you!” bella smiled, hand out. you didn’t even notice sadie and olivia walk away.

“bella, hi! yeah, it’s lovely to meet you too,”

shaking hands made you more nervous than anything ever. touching their skin was a whole new level.

“i’m sorry the last of us didn’t win tonight. it really deserved to.” you empathized, truly wishing bella had won.

“it’s alright, we’ll have many more chances i’m sure. you look stunning, may i add. literally, gorgeous.”

your face flushed at bella’s words. “oh! thank you, you look very gorgeous as well.”

“i saw your instagram live,” bella blurted out. you immediately put your face in your hands and groaned. bella was quick to grab them and remove them. “hey, no! it’s alright, no need to ruin your pretty makeup.” again, you blushed. “i just wanted to say, again, i think you’re gorgeous. incredibly, and you’re so talented and funny.”

you smiled brightly, not moving your hands from bella’s. “thank you. uh, sorry if this is forward-”

“i was thinking movies?” bella asked. “sorry, i just thought it would be more comfortable than a dinner with the paps. maybe at someone’s place, with pizza and popcorn?”

“yes, i’d love that!” you felt your insides rush with glee.

bella smiled wide, “awesome, great.”

you two stood in a brief silence, not wanting to leave each others company. “would you like to meet pedro?”

“would i?!”

[wifeofsnowbaird]

can you do a Tom Blyth x reader where they are filming like a romcom or something and they fall in love over the course of filming? i was thinking fluff but i would not be upset if it somehow ended up with some smut in their trailer ;) , just follow your heart!! lots of love ❤️

ofc! I’m absolutely shitty at smut tho i might try with this one but idk so fluff it is❤️ it’s gonna have 3 parts bc it’s definitely gonna need more than a short post!

this first part isnt really when they're filming i just wanted Tom to have a slight crush after seeing ur story and wanted a small scene with Rachel and Josh!

So long I've been out in the rain and snow.

But the winter's come and gone, and a little bird told me so.

Part 1/Part 2/

(Tom Blyth x actress!reader)

summary: you and Tom meet for the first time while Josh is in the middle of the livestream. It's become the new famous ship of the internet.

You were one of the newest actresses in Hollywood and luckily you managed to grab a role with one of the most famous actors right now, Tom Blyth.

Ever since he starred in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, people have been thirsting for him like he was water.

You wouldn't lie, you were one of them, but you two were supposed to meet in a coffee shop, reciting your lines and you were late.

" Oh you're [Name] [Last name], nice to meet you! Sorry, my friends decided to follow me here. "

Tom grinned, blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight, an apology gleaming in his pupils.

"No worries, it's fine! I'm so sorry I'm late, it was just traffic!"

" Don't worry, I'm just glad you made it!"

You took in a deep breath and extended your arm for a handshake. Surprisingly, he hugged you instead. You met the two 'friends' who are actually fucking Josh Rivera and Rachel Zegler who were seemingly livestreaming on Instagram.

" And here is the new couple! Say hi, you two love birds!"

Tom rolled his eyes before letting you go to tell Josh off.

" We aren't dating, we actually just met."

Josh turned, confused for a second before gazing at Tom's phone that was left on his chair.

"Wait, seriously? Didn't you see a post of her being your new co-star in that rom-com you're doing and started bragging a lot to Rachel and me? What's it?"

He thought for a minute before his eyes lit up and he smiled brightly.

"Oh, yeah! Sweet truth, where a girl had a bunch of exes tell lies and cheat but then finds a man who tells her nothing but the truth?"

Tom hissed and shut Josh up by covering his mouth, before he noticed Rachel leaning toward confused you, beginning to tell you the whole story.

His panicked face turned red.

" So it was a couple weeks ago, we were just calmly hanging out after reshooting some Ballad scenes when Tom showed us your Insta where you were like, I don't know, talking about the movie you're gonna be in! He was literally obsessed, I am not kidding."

She shrugged as Tom glared at her for spilling his secret.

"I'm sorry, I mean you're beautiful and I-"

He cleared his throat, unable to continue because of his embarrassment.

You giggled, shrugging.

" It's cool, I mean I think you're hot-I mean handsome too."

Inside you were literally screaming at yourself for exposing the fact that he's your celebrity crush.

" Uh, guys, I hope this isn't method acting because I'd be really disappointed in you, Tom" Josh snickered, sharing a mischievous glance with Rachel.

Tom rolled his eyes, smiling at you before beckoning to the chair beside him.

" Let's, uh, practice...?"

[charliesgoodboy]

♠︎tom kaulitz(2007-2008) x male reader(nsfw)

♠︎genre: smut/song based

♠︎song line: "if she can't handle that then i'll let her suck my dick, and her man is coming back so you better make it quick."

♠︎warning(s): domtop tom kaulitz, gagging, slight cum swallowing, tom is a little rough(but thats only because wait nvm im spoiling), blow jobs, cheating, tom does not like gf, and the gf probably does not like tom, OH tom is amazing at aftercare(i might just..)

♠︎a/n: YEA U KNOW WHO U R U PIECE OF SHIT YOUR GFS ALWAYS SUCKIN ON MY DICK LIKE A SLIM JIM STICK

this wasn't right and you knew it, you had a girlfriend who was in your own band! you loved her dearly yet sometimes others could be tempting. sometimes, others could fill in the hole that had never been filled.

which was tom kaulitz himself, it was all supposed to be a one night thing like toms usual hits, but to call you 'different' is an understanding. "no one has to know..not even that woman of yours." he was so persuasive, made you believe it would really just be once.

the both of you thought wrong, "just once." bullshit. yet here, for at least the fifteenth time you were put on your knees in front of him, his fingers curled into your hair keeping you almost to the base of his pelvis, making it difficult for you to breathe.

you had told him that you were still sore from about a week ago, apparently he was fucking his anger out on you but fuck the aftercare was almost everything you could ask for.

"through your nose," he moaned out, you were trying but god you barely could. at times you'd try to move your head back so you could breathe a little more, and taste him a little better.

his hips thrusted foward a little, the back of your throat feeling all the more cramped as you tapped his thigh, signalling he needed to let you go for a moment. "aw..but i'm almost there." he teased smirking down at you, the bastard. "fine,"

he gave in letting you go, more so pulling your head back on his own his fingers still tangled with your hair. "go on, take your breathes." he wasn't done with you, when he said he was almost there he meant it.

unfortunately, your girlfriend texted you. the front of your phone had her message sent, saying she'd be on her way back soon. well shit, this just made tom all the more excited.

"look," he laughed, moving his hand from your hair to your chin to make you look at him open the message, showing it to you. "your little girlfriends coming back." you tried to grab for your phone back exclaiming,

"tom! we have to stop this is–" he tossed your phone somewhere else, making you cringe hearing a small crack. "ah ah, i'm not finished yet remember?" he usually liked finishing what he started.

"back down," he watched as you went back down on your knees, a satisfied look on his face. "think," he forcefully put you back down on his length, enjoying the muffled yelp you let out your hands moving to his thighs again, squeezing them.

"she couldn't satisfy you like this huh?" he was right, and you knew it. to him, your girlfriend was just some chic you fake liked eating out, he knew you liked this better.

it was written all over your face even the first time. tom was the one controlling your pace, but still making sure you watched your teeth. spit had wallowed up at the back of your throat, having it spill at the side of your lips coating his dick as well. "yeah..i know."

he bit his lip, slipping his lip ring in and out as he was getting back to the moment before, cumming down your throat. but be had wanted to see something, it would be fine. he pulled you back off again, his head leaning back as he let out a loud groan finishing his load all over your face.

he looked back, loving the way he saw you swallow the bit in your mouth as the rest had been splattered across your features. the way some stuck to your eyelash making you half close that eye.

how the thick white liquid coated your cheeks as well, it almost felt as good as the other times. "fuck.." he mumbled still staring at you till your phone rang. again, you tried to get up and get it but tough luck for you.

"she can wait."

that poor girl yo💀 im sooo mf tired but ion wanna sleep😪 if there are any typos nu uh no there are not @gaybitchfx @tokio-motel @secretivemessenger @reallyromealone @lostsomewhereinthegarden @esthxio @vyloy @bloodyfennec @kitsune-yuhhh

[peakyltd]

Peonies

I wrote this one shot for K’s (@runnning-outof-time) 'Tales from the Flower Garden, 3K Celebration'. The prompt I used can be found in italics (I might’ve even used it twice) 🤭

A/N: I wanted a challenge and I got one but no challenge is too big, right? It's my first one shot and it contains way more words than I expected, I didn't know I had it in me 😂 Now after rereading it a few times, I've became a bit unsure about it so I'd love to hear your feedback/tips/comments/anything! I hope that you guys like it! 💓

Extra note: The start of the story is set before the war.

Warning: Mentions of war. A bit of angst.

Wordcount: 3851

(Gif by: @thesoldiersminute. I take no credit for the gif!)

1913

“Goodmorning miss (Y/L/N).” A familiar voice rang trough the small flower shop, greeting her. (Y/N) recognized it immediately. “Goodmorning Mr. Shelby.” She giggled while turning around to face him. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Tommy leaned against the desk. “Nice to see you too (Y/N).” She rolled her eyes playfully.

(Y/N) and Tommy knew each other since they were kids, they were only 2 years apart and both grew up in Small Heath. She often played on the streets with the Shelby’s as kids and when they grew older, they hung out frequently. She worked in a flower shop in the neighborhood and Tommy loved to visit her there when he had the chance.

“I’m here to pick up some flowers.” He continued “Are you really?” (Y/N) asked him. “Have to make up something to Pol. I broke her expensive plates. She was furious.” He chuckled. “M' laughing now but I thought I was going to see god.”

Tommy was a soft and charming guy with a side full of mischievousness. (Y/N) loved that about him. He was easy going and she always had a good connection with the 23 year old Shelby. They had been friends for years after all. Although some feelings had kind of changed. It made her nervous, he made her nervous.

(Y/N) laughed. “What happened?” “Plates were on the table, Arthur was being an ass, I pushed him, he bumped against the table, you can guess the rest.” He explained to her. She shook her head, chuckling. “Poor Polly.” “Mind you I was almost a dead man, just saying.” He chuckled, while walking trough the small store.

“I think I'll go for these.” Tommy stated while picking up a small bouquet with pink roses and walking back to the desk, laying the flowers on top of it. “Aunt Polly will completely forget what you did if she sees these Tom.” (Y/N) joked, smiling at him.

While she wrapped the flowers up, he took a package of cigarettes out of his jacket. “Roses are you favorite too, right?” She looked up at him. “Yes an-” Tommy cut her off. “And Peonies. I know that.”

(Y/N) looked up at him. “Maybe I'll buy them for you one day. Would also look great in your bridal bouquet.” He looked at her, a cheeky smile on his face. (Y/N) gave him a confused look. "My bridal bouquet?" "Yeah, you know... for our wedding."

(Y/N) blushed, not knowing where to look or what to say. “Oh...” she muttered. Tommy took a cigarette out of the package, a big grin on his face.

“I uhm… yes they would look nice in a bouquet.” (Y/N) awkwardly stammered while she put the roses he chose, back on the desk in front of him. Tommy put the cigarette in his mouth, an amused look on his face. "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

(Y/N) nodded. "You planned the wedding already?" She joked, trying to ease down her own nerves but mostly hoping that Tommy would forget about her reaction.

"Not really but we can if you want." He laughed "I was thinking about going out for a walk. I want to show you something. You'll love it." "Okay."

"I'll come pick you up after dinner." He answered, as he takes the roses and puts the money on the desk. "See you tomorrow then." She smiled at him. "See you tomorrow miss (Y/L/N)." He said while walking out of the store.

Tommy was late, it was slowly getting dark and she was still waiting for him. Maybe he forgot, she thought until she heard knocking at her door. She got up to open it.

“I thought you wouldn’t come anymore.” She told him as she put on her coat. “I would never forget about you, eh." He defended as she walked out the door. "I hope not."

"You're questioning it?" He asked her whilst bringing her in for a hug. She giggled, hugging him back. Although she was nervous, his strong arms felt safe. She wouldn't mind just holding him the whole evening.

"Just kidding Tom." "I know." He mumbled as he kissed her forehead. "Ready to go?" Y/N blushed at his sudden move. "Yes."

The walk took a bit longer than she expected, it got dark pretty quickly and she still had no clue about where Tommy was taking her. Until they both ended up in front of a wall that seperated them from whatever could be behind it.

(Y/N) wanted to ask Tommy what they were doing here but before she knew he had already climbed on top of it and reached out for her hand. She hesitately grabbed it as he helped her onto the wall, making sure she could sit down safely.

On the other side was a beautiful garden with many flowers, lit by the moon that was now fully visible. A small greenhouse stood next to it and in the distance was a big house. It was barely visible because of the lack of lights.

“It’s beautiful Tom but I really think we shouldn’t be here.” She whispered. "It's fine (Y/N), nothing to be afraid of." He assured her while jumping off the wall.

"We're on someone else's property Tommy, I don't want to get into any trouble." (Y/N) pleaded whilst looking around, afraid that someone would caught them.

"Come." Tommy grabbed her hands and carefully helped her off the wall. "But I-" "Now look at these flowers and tell me what kind they are." He disrupted, eyeing her to see if she finally got why he brought her here.

When she realized what he meant she looked up at him. "Peonies..." Not knowing what else to say. "Your favorites." He smiled at her. "How did you find this?" "Came across it once while helping uncle Charlie and I thought you'd like to see it." "I do." She breathed out, looking at the flowers. Tommy took her hand and strolled with her trough the garden.

"They are so pretty, I'm sure their colors are even more beautiful in the daylight." (Y/N)'s fingers slided carefully over the peonies. Tommy took his coat off and layed it down on the grass, in the middle of the garden. The space was surrounded by the many gorgeous flowers.

"You can sit here if you want." (Y/N) turned around to face him and smiled at his gesture. "Oh, thank you." She walked over and sat down on Tommy's coat, he sat down next to her. "We could come back to see them in daylight." He offered.

"I would love to but I don't think the owner would like it." She mentioned as she eyed the house in the distance. "They don't have to know." He stated, looking at her.

She shook her head. "They will, if they see us." "I'll think of something." Tommy moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She felt the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she leaned against him. "If you forgot your worries about people finding us here, what do you think of it?" He asked while stroking her hair. It was soft between his fingers.

"I love it. Thank you for bringing me here. It's very special." She admits as she looked up at him. His blue eyes meeting hers. "Special place for a special young lady." He beamed, stroking her rose tinted cheek gently with his thumb.

(Y/N) giggled, putting her hand on his chest. "You're making me shy." She softly admitted. "Nothing to be shy about, love." He told her as he held her gaze.

"You look beautiful in the moonlight." Tommy leaned in confidently but carefully, afraid of scaring her away. (Y/N)'s heart was beating fast, breath stuck in her throat. "Can I kiss you?" He asked her softly. "Please..." She whispered.

Tommy pressed his lips softly against hers. She returned the favor and slowly moved her hand to his neck, pulling him closer. Blood rushed trough her veins as his hand moved down to her hip, holding her firmer as he deepened the kiss.

She had dreamt often of this moment but never thought it would be this good. His lips were soft and his touch so gentle, she melted. He smelled like cologne mixed with the smell of cigarettes, so familiar but this time it hit her different.

Tommy slowly pulled away from the kiss, a smile on his face. (Y/N) looked up at him, beaming as she took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Tommy confessed. “Me too.” (Y/N) admitted, placing her hand on his cheek.

Before Tommy could say anything else, Y/N had pulled him into another kiss already, this time a little more fiery. Her nerves seemed to have made place for more confidence. Tommy placed one hand on her lower back as the other grabbed her jaw gently. She moaned softly, her hands roamed trough his hair, pulling softly on the ends.

It felt like they were the only people in the whole world that moment. Just them, as if they were meant for each other.

This time she was the first to break away from him. slowly lowering her hands down to his chest. Tommy pressed his lips against hers again for a quick kiss. "I fancy you even more than I already did." He confessed to her as he looked into her eyes.

"You fancied me?" "Wasn't it obvious?" He laughed. "Well... I don't know. I thought I... I thought you didn't l like me that way." She stammered.

"And I wasn't sure about you fancying me until the day I came in to buy flowers." "What do you mean?" (Y/N) asked him, hoping he wouldn't bring up her awkward response.

"When I started about our wedding day, I never saw someone's cheeks that shade of red." He teased, grinning at her. "Tommy!" She gently pushed his chest, laughing at his comment. "Just kidding, love. But honestly, that was when I knew I had to shoot my shot."

A blush creeped onto Y/N's cheeks again. "Well I'm happy you did." She confessed to him, looking down at her lap, fumbling with her dress. "Don't get shy." He chuckled as he lifts her chin with his finger. "Now before I'll walk you home, I just want to do this one more time." He smiled at her before kissing her again.

Months went by since they shared their first kiss and they couldn't be happier. Tommy officially asked (Y/N) to be his girlfriend during a dinner he made. He made sure he wore his best clothes and had the house to himself. He had begged his family to let him have the house for a few hours. He tried to make her favorite dish because he knew how much she loved it and he wanted to impress her

(Y/N) showed up very excited for whatever surprise Tommy had planned for her. Candles had lit the small dining table and he made sure he had a fresh bouquet of flowers for her. Of course her favorites.

After dinner, they ended their night in front of the fireplace where they shared plans for the future, their future. After a while they decided to move to Tommy’s bedroom, not wanting to be bothered by any of the returning Shelby’s.

It was a perfect night, even though Tommy didn't turn out to be the best cook.

1914

"I saved a piece for you." (Y/N) said as she takes a piece of pie, neatly wrapped, out of her basket. "I know it's your favorite." She added as she hands Tommy the piece.

They agreed to meet at the cut in Tommy’s break. He was taking care of the horses to make some extra money. The cut was also the place where they could escape both their families for a while and spend time with one another. The faint sounds of the town in the distance.

"You didn't have to." "I wanted to. It's made with love." She giggled. "Thank you." He mumbled as he kissed her cheek, earning a smile. Tommy unpacked the piece of pie. "Don't you want a piece of it?" "No, it's all yours Tom."

A few birds flew by, Y/N watched them. "I wish we could be as free as them." She said, looking at Tommy as he eats a bit of his pie. "We could go wherever we wanted." He didn't react, his mind somewhere else. "Tommy?" He looked up at her. "Hm?" "Are you okay?" He nodded.

"Are you sure?" She asked him, worry on her face. He acted different and it confused her. "I have to tell you something" He eventually confessed. (Y/N) nervously played with his fingers. "I-I signed up for the military." He told her, staring at the water.

He knew he was going to hurt her and he dreaded telling her. He knew she would understand eventually. He just had to do it.

(Y/N) didn't know what to say. Many people had already been sent off to fight but she didn’t expect Tommy to go. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t have to.

“Arthur and John will be joining too." He added.

“Oh.” She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “Where will you go?” She whimpered. “France.”

She fought against her tears but lost. Tommy put the pie next to him, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. Her soft sobs the only thing to be heard.

“Don’t cry, love. It will be okay.” He tried to assure her as he rubbed her back. He didn’t know if it would be okay. He didn’t know anything.

“How can you say that?” She softly says. Tommy gently grabs her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Because I’ll make sure it will be.” (Y/N) looked at him, taking a deep breath.

“You have to promise me that you’ll come back. Alive.” Her voice shook, desperate for some kind of assurance. “I promise, darling. I promise you that I will come back.”

(Y/N) snuggled into his chest, softly sniffling. “Why, Tommy?” “I have to do it.” “Do you really?” “I want to.” He shortly explained.

“When will you leave?” “In two weeks.”

They held each other for a while, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. Tommy stroked her hair as she stared at the water, not fully realizing what he just told her.

“Would you like to go out for a walk tonight?” He asked. She sat up and wiped the new fallen tears of her face. “Yes.” “We could go see the horses as well eh, they like your company.” He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I’d like that.” A small smile on her face.

She got up and took her basket. “See you tonight then.” “Do you want me to walk you home?” “No, thank you. I’ll be alright.” She told him, straightening her dress. Just as she wanted to walk off, he called her name.

“Y/N?” “Yes?” “You can’t leave without giving me a kiss.” He said, looking up at her, a grin on his face. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but smile.

1918

(Y/N) was nervously waiting on the trainstation. Today was the day Tommy finally would come back home. At least she hoped so, it had been weeks since she received his last letter and she didn’t want to think about what could have happened in the meantime.

She joined Polly, Ada and Finn who had missed their nephews and brothers. They all lived years in uncertainty, something that wouldn’t end until they were here. Back in their arms.

She remembered the last time she was here, sending the love of her life away. Not knowing if he would ever return. Tommy tried to cheer her up with his jokes, saying that it would be okay and that he would be back before she knew it. It still upset her when she thought about it. He wanted to be strong for her but she saw the fear and sadness in his eyes when they said their last goodbyes.

As the train approached, people started to gather on the platform. Most of them were finally able to see their loved ones again. Or at least they hoped so.

Once the train had stopped, a crowd had formed already. (Y/N) moved closer to to see if she could find Tommy. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to look over the crowd.

No sight of Tommy so far. Patience running low as she walked back to Polly. The woman saw the anxiety in (Y/N)’s face. “Just a few more minutes.” She tried to comfort her.

(Y/N) nodded, watching how soldiers walked over the platform, looking for their families. Others had already reunited with their loved ones. But there was still no sign of Tommy.

Minutes never felt that much like hours until she spotted a familiar face between all the uniforms. He seemed different, his hair was shorter and he looked older but it was him. “Thomas!” She yelled out, running to him, tears brimming in her eyes. He was finally home. Alive. Like he had promised.

She flew around his neck, Tommy wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I missed you so much Tommy.” She sobbed softly. “I missed you too, love.” He told her, pulling her in for a kiss.

(Y/N) looked up at him, wiping away her tears. Tears of relieve this time. When he met her eyes, she smiled at him. Soon realizing that something had changed. The little twinkle had made place for a kind of dull, emptiness in them.

Tommy stroked her hair, pulling her in for another kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving her fingers trough his hair. Finally being able to have his lips back on hers.

“I’m glad you didn’t forget about me.” He mumbled against her lips. “I would never.” She stated, happy to have him safe back in her arms.

It had been two weeks since Tommy came home. Although she was very happy to have him back, things had changed. His demeanor was cold and distant and he talked less.

She knew he had seen horrible things in France, things that caused his sleepless nights and gave him awful flashbacks. Somewhere she hoped that it would take time for him to recover in some way but deep down she knew he had changed forever. The only thing she could do for him, was loving him. Be there for him when he needed someone. No matter what.

So that's what she did. She'd listen to him when he did want to talk, show him how much she loved him and take him out if he wanted, trying to clear his mind in some way.

(Y/N) stood in the kitchen, making sandwiches. As she wrapped them up, she put them in her basket. She decided to take Tommy out for a picnic, it was a sunny day and she hoped he would enjoy to spend some time outside.

She took her basket and went outside to meet him at his house. When she arrived, he was already waiting for her. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” She said as she kissed his cheek. “You didn’t.” He assured. “I do have a meeting this afternoon so I can’t stay all day.” “That’s okay.” She told him.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked her. “You’ll see.”

Their walk was quiet, the wind blew softly and the sun warmed their skin. “We could’ve gone to the cut.” Tommy stated. “We could but we won’t. We’ll be going right there.” (Y/N) pointed at a gate.

He recognized it faintly but it still seemed different from what he could remember. Once they got closer he knew why.

The gate used to be a wall. The wall he helped (Y/N) over to surprise her with the beautiful garden that was hidden behind it. As he looked at her to say something, he saw her taking out a key. She took it to unlock the gate and opened it for him.

Tommy frowned, a confused look on his face. (Y/N) chuckled. “Are you going to ask something or shall I just explain it?” “Just explain it.”

“My boss bought the house. The land came with it and now we sell the flowers in the shop.” She explained to him. “I told him I wanted to take care of the garden and he let me. That’s why I have this.” She said, dangling the key before putting it into her basket.

Tommy nodded. "I came here often when you were away. It reminded me of you." (Y/N) told him as she took his hand. She brought him to the middle of the garden, just like he had done for her. She sat the basket down, taking the blanket and layed it on the grass.

They both sat down and she handed him a sandwich. “I made your favorite.” Tommy took of his cap. “Thank you.” He answered, looking around the garden. “I never took you to see them by daylight.”

“Now I’m taking you to do so.” She smiled at him. “We did lots of other nice things.” She added. “But I still should have taken you.” Tommy said, eating his sandwich. “You can still do it. It’s not too late for that.” She assured him. "We can go anytime we want now."

A comfortable silence fell over them as they finished their sandwiches. The sounds of birds and rustling of the leaves were calming on both of them. It made her think of life before war. Before Tommy had changed. She wondered if he could ever be happy again, dealing with such a trauma. It’s been a long time since she had seen a genuine smile on his face.

“Are you getting used to the life at home again?” She softly asked him. He looked at her. “Yes.” He answerd as he layed down.

“Come, I want to hold you.” He told her as he patted the spot next to him. (Y/N) layed down, her head on his chest. He put his arm around her, stroking her back. “I love you.” She told him softly while drawing circles on his chest with her fingers. “I love you too, Y/N.”

They stayed like this with each other for a while, enjoying each other’s company, until Tommy asked her if she could check his pocket watch. “It’s 2.30 PM.” She told him. He groaned softly. “I’m sorry, I have a meeting at 3.” He said, both of them sitting up. “I’ll stay here a little longer.” She said. “Are you sure?” (Y/N) nodded. “I’m sure Tommy, don’t worry. I'll get home safely.” She smiled at him.

Tommy got up and put his cap back on. “Thank you for… this. I appreciate it.” He said. “I’ll see you tonight, eh?” “I’ll see you tonight.” She answered as she watched him walk away. “Tommy?” He stopped walking and turned to her. “You can’t leave without giving me a kiss.” She told him, grinning. Tommy looked at her, a smile on his face.

One that she had been longing to see for weeks.

[fan-goddess]

Authors Note: Here’s the final one of your requests sweet anon! I literally started this yesterday so I’m happy with how quick I wrote this! I’ve separated your requests into 3 separate pieces just so it’s easier! Hope that’s okay and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Certainly went more goofy than usual with the tags that’s for sure…

Warnings: P in v sex, public sex, Toms got a hell of a mouth, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, he’s just oozing dominance, overstimulation, he’s cocky as hell, but he gets strangely bashful at the end, he’s gotta low-key breeding kink, and it’s successful, thumb sucking but not your own, degrading I think, praising also, (if I’ve missed any which I don’t doubt I have, then let me know in a way you’re comfortable with)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

The bar was crowded and noisy, as sailors from all ranks spread themselves all throughout the room looking for their next ‘catch of the day’.

You yourself was sitting idly by the bar, sipping your daiquirí whilst your supposed best friend was chatting up some ginger haired sailor with spectacles the size of oranges with vigour. You loved her, you really did, but she really had some unique tastes…

“And what’s a gal like you sitting all by herself in a place like this now?” A voice said, bringing you from your depressive thoughts.

When you turn to him, you’re actually surprised to see a handsome man in-front of you, dressed in his sailors uniform, with a matching hat and a cocky grin painted on his lips to match.

“Well sailor, my mates currently chatting up one of your own. And I’ve been left all on my own…” It’s amusing to you how when you mockingly pout in annoyance for a little added affect, the sailors eyes can’t stop themselves from staring at them, desire clearly swirling within them.

“Well we can’t have that can we now! A beautiful woman should never be without company I believe!” He grins, slyly touching hands with your own so his little finger can caresses your warm skin.

You choose not to answer his statement right away, instead watching with hooded eyes as his own stare pure liquid heat into your whole body, merely at the sight of your lips pursed around the straw of your drink whilst you give a small hum of amusement.

“And what are you going to do about my lack of company sailor?” You grin, placing down your now empty glass to look at him with full attention, resting your head on your hand for that extra effect.

“Well, I’ll be keeping the lady company. In any way she so pleases…” He grins, coming closer to you under the pretence of wiping something away from the corner of your mouth. Only his own mouth opens slightly in surprise and arousal, when your lips move to wrap around his thumb and bite down slightly, before removing it with a slightly wet pop and a cheeky grin.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I know exactly how you’ll be keeping me company, isn’t it sailor boy?” The cheeky carefree grin still drawn on your face.

“Yes pretty woman, it is indeed…”

It’s surprising how calm and aroused you are about fucking an absolute stranger in an abandoned and slightly dirty alleyway behind the bar. But hey, the big wars going on and you have no idea if you may die the next day. Gotta make the most of it right?

“Fuck… such a tight pussy…” The sailor boy groans, the sound alone going straight to your cunt that clenches desperately around his cock.

You have no idea his name, but that strangely makes that it all the more thrilling.

“Oh! So good!” You whine. The grip your nails have on his arms tightening as his teeth sink almost desperately into the skin of your neck. Wanton you cannot control ripping straight from your throat as he does so.

It only gets worse when that same thumb you playfully bit down earlier comes to your mouth once more to collect some of your built up saliva, and skilfully trace circles with it on your swollen clit.

You’ve got to admit, your sailor is nothing but skillful when it’s comes to a woman’s body. Not that you’re complaining of course….

“Can already feel your walls clenching down on me. You want my cum that badly inside you huh?” He huffs, grinning into the skin of your neck as he sucks dark marks you know’ll show up the next morning. It almost makes you forgive the cocky undertones that so clearly shines through.

“It’s okay love, I know you can’t help it when you’ve got a cock this big in your tight little pussy huh? Come on love, fucking cum for me already!”

You didn’t even realise how close you were until he told you. As the moment he said those words with that almost annoyingly deep seductive voice of his, your walls began to clench and your whines become muffled as you try to quieten them down by keeping your head in the curve of his neck.

Yet as you felt the euphoric feeling calm down, you realised he hasn’t even cum yet, and he was still thrusting deep inside of you like it was his last time on earth. Which to be honest, when you thought of this moment later that evening, to a man like him, it very well may have been.

“Awe it’s okay love! You can give me another one can’t you? Let’s see if we can give you another before I cum deep inside you shall we?” The sailor gives you another cocky smirk whilst his thumb still continues to draw small shapes on your clit, and all you can do to respond is whimper slightly whilst nodding your head sluggishly.

The strange buzz you begin to feel throughout your whole body is slightly painful, and yet that feeling mixed with the once again building of pleasure is something you can’t help but find almost annoyingly addictive.

So additive in fact, you can’t help but clamp your teeth tightly onto the plump skin of your lips to keep that delicious mix of pain and pleasure pumping through you.

“Awe, have I fucked my pretty girl dumb? That’s such a shame… still. I gotta tell you this is by far, the best fucking cunt in England” He emphasises his praise with a sharp thrust between each word, and you can’t stop yourself anymore from releasing your lips and beginning to desperately gasp for breath as his cock makes you feel practically breathless as he bullies you with it.

And It’s only worse for you when his cock begins to bully your sweet spot harshly and accurately.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna cum again!” You whine, your eyes screwing shut as you barely manage to get the words out.

“Hey! Eyes on me love!” His hand suddenly withdraws itself from your clits with a slight gasp you realise he’s grabbed your jaw tightly to force your eyes to look into his own, and his thumb covered in your juices is pushed into your own mouth, where you suck almost wantonly at the soaked digit with a whine.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl! Gonna cum deep inside you… and who knows. Maybe I’ll leave you with a going away present!” He chuckles, before his face screws up slightly as you feel yourself cumming around his cock, bringing him to his own orgasm with a deep erotic groan.

The two of you don’t speak for a few moments. Allowing only the sounds of your mixed heavy breaths do the talking as he releases you from his hold and the two of you begin to make yourselves presentable.

Sailor boy only needing to pull up his trousers and redo his belt, whilst you yourself pull up your underwear and adjust the shoulder straps of your dress before wiping away the slight wet trails around your mouth with your sleeves.

You look at him almost shyly as the sudden soberness hits you, whilst his own eyes hold slight sympathy when he looks over the state of your neck. No doubt already bruised and marked for all to see on the way back home.

“My names Tom by the way. Tom Bennett.” He says, finally breaking the sudden build of ice.

You shyly say your own, and a slight blush takes over your face when he repeats it back to you under his breath with a small half smile. As if to test it.

“I’m shipping off next week. Did you uhm, did you wanna maybe go somewhere to eat tomorrow night maybe for dinner? I’d ask if you wanted to go now, but now that I’m looking at you, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe go and rest back at your place first before we did anything…” It’s strange to see your sailor boy, or Tom you suppose, so shy all of a sudden. But still you can’t help yourself from smiling slightly as his much more innocent proposition than the one he gave you back in the bar.

“I’d love to do it tomorrow! I think you’re right. I may need some rest before we go somewhere… still, did you have anywhere in mind to eat?” You ask, preening slightly as he smoothly places him arm over your shoulder almost possessively and leads you out of the alley with a small smile, insisting he walks you to your home.

Whatever you do, no matter how many times you’re asked, you never tell your children this is how you met their father. Nor tell your eldest son this is how he got brought into the world…

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary, nsfw, angst, forced proximity

After a hellish 24 hour shift, you’re starting to think you should have taken him up on his offer. Give me a foot rub then get the fuck out. However, it most definitely would not have ended at only a foot rub. You know yourself too well to think you can keep your grubby hands off that man in any sort of private, intimate setting. Yeah, you’re staying the hell away from Ludlow. 

It’s gross, but you don’t even take a shower, and pass out cold on the couch as soon as your rat's nest of hair hits the throw pillow. 

Dark, honey eyes welcome you to the land of unconsciousness. The place where you can’t control your disobedient vagina so easily. And, apparently, she liked Tom Ludlow a lot. Especially his hands. Fuck. Thick fingers, surprisingly gentle and teasing, tucking up inside you, coaxing at that sweet little spot you can’t quite get at on your own. His mouth swallowing your moans, tongue licking urgently against your teeth, practically eating you alive. Something hard and velvet pressed against your thighs. 

A loud knock wakes you up in the same position you started at. Face down on the couch, except now feeling even grosser because of the slick arousal between your legs. You stumble to the door, pull it open. It’s Ms. Higgs, your sweet next door neighbor. 

“Oh, hello, y/n, I heard…. Yelling? Is everything okay?” 

You look at her stupidly. “Yelling….?”

“Yes, it sounded like you were in distress. Sorry, is this a bad time?” She eyes your just-got-hit-by-a-semi-truck appearance, complete with gore and all. 

Oh. The dream. Oh… oh. You feel yourself freeze despite the embarrassed heat warming your skin. “Uh.” Yes, great, make her think you’re out of your mind. You try a terse smile. “Oh. Sorry. I had a long shift and I must have been having a nightmare.” 

How in the hell did you pass nursing school?

Thank God she looks like she wants to leave as soon as possible. “Right. Well.” Clears her throat. “I’m glad you’re okay. Have a good day.” She moves fast for an older woman, shutting herself back into the apartment next door before you can bid goodbye. 

Your neighbor now hates you, and you’re definitely blaming Ludlow for it. 

Shower, eat, masturbate. No, wait. Masturbate, then eat. No. Eat first so then you can masturbate as many times as it takes to get Mr. I’m a Pretty, Dark Eyed Cop With Huge Hands - 

You have to literally pinch yourself to stop this train of thought from turning into a derailed crash. 

Your plans fail miserably, and that is actually Ludlow’s fault, but you refuse to admit it. At least you’re eliminating two steps at once with the handy dandy shower head.

And then again after you eat. And then again in your bed. And, damn, you really need to invest in a vibrator like Sheila told you to do a long time ago. 

You don’t consider yourself a prude by any means; there’s just no time for adult toys or one night stands. Your job, more often than not, consumes your life, and you like it that way. The fast pace, the interesting medical anomalies you get to see, your funny coworkers, cute and oh so nice Dr. Julian who brings you all Starbucks on Sundays. You usually pick up more shifts than you’re scheduled, fueled by rising violent crime rates in the inner cities. There is a satisfaction in bringing someone back from the dead, especially someone young with their whole life ahead of them. Grim Reaper? Psh. Kiss my ass. 

***

Sometimes you need a break, and these next two days you have off are going to be that time away. 

Except, on the second day, you’re bored, so you end up going in for an eight hour shift. 

You have a bad habit of not viewing your patient’s info before you get into their exam room, favoring the ol’ fashioned method of actually looking at the person instead of a computer. As soon as you walk into your next assigned room, however, you vow to change your messy bitch ways. Handsome Cop - the one you refuse to admit you spent two full days rubbing yourself off to - sits on the cot, grinning at you like the cat that caught the mouse. 

You do feel a little bit like a tiny mouse under that hefty stare, scurrying in and going right to the computer so you don’t have to make eye contact longer than necessary - well, long enough for ruined underwear. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, did your stitches come open?” You try to maintain a strictly professional voice, but you can tell by the sharpening of his grin it’s not working. 

“What? You’re not gonna fight with me today?” 

“Do nurses fight people where you’re from?” Here you are, playing into his game. Stupid. 

“There she is.” 

Your jaw tightens. “What are you being seen for, Mr. Ludlow?”

“Ouch, surnames? Really?”

“Surprised you know what that big word means.”

His gorgeous eyebrow cocks as he looks around the monitor at you, and you tuck yourself further behind the computer to hide. 

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Well, he puts his right hand up. His left can only rise so far into the air. “Yeah, I tore them.” 

“Can you show me?” 

He strips his shirt, revealing a long, toned torso that belongs in X-rated cinema instead of bed number 3 at the South Bay General ED. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, close your mouth or you’ll catch flies?” He asks. 

“It’s actually, shut your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” 

“Okay, how about this one: My eyes are up here, darling.”

First of all, you didn’t even look at his bare chest that much. He’s definitely exaggerating. Second of all, well - ugh - second of all fuck you, Ludlow. 

His stitches are busted open right in the middle. You have to unstick the bloody dressing carefully and then spray the center with some antiseptic. 

“You should be more careful.” Is it just you or does he smell different tonight? Less sweat and copper, more spice and cardamon.

You do your best to shake it off. Plenty of men wear cologne everyday–it doesn’t mean he got cleaned up just for you. 

“I don’t really have anyone to be careful for.”

“Get a dog?” 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What why? I don’t know, blue?” 

“So I can pick out a collar you’ll like.” 

He’s joking, but the feral urge to jam your thumb right into his tearing wound is palpable. 

He realizes he fucked up when you don’t have a witty retort. 

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean that you’re a bitch.” If you’re giving him credit, he at least looks sorry. And sorry looks far too good on him. The big grinning Doberman turns into a wide eyed puppy dog and it makes your heart squeeze tighter. “I’m sorry. I just meant - hey, hey.” He tips your chin up so you can see the apology in his softened eyes. “I’m an asshole.” 

You flick his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” 

He must be hard of hearing, because he dwarfs your arm in his grip and pulls you closer. “C’Mon, little nurse. Now you have to let me make it up to you. Let me buy you a fancy dinner or something.” 

Pulling away is not an option, so you come up with a better idea. “Okay, fine. I will. If you can answer one question.”

He looks delighted by this. “Try me.”

“What’s my name?” 

You relish the sight of his smile wiping clean. The big grin transfers from his face to yours. 

“Seriously?”

“Well?” It’s your turn to raise a cocky eyebrow.

He tries to flip your badge frontward, but you slap his hand away. He’s quick, catches your wrist, pulls you closer so that your body is pressing into his calves, traps both of your hands in one of his and spins the badge so that he can see your picture and name. He repeats it, first and last, grins back with a vengeance. This little tussle really bruises your ego, because it doesn’t even seem like you made him wince or falter even once.

“Cheater,” you snarl. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Let me go.” 

“Make me.” 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Oh yeah you will.” He winks. 

Fucking sexy bastard. 

“Want those stitches worse or better?” You threaten. 

“I don’t really care,” he shrugs, eyes light with humor. “Just did it to come see you anyway.” 

“You tore your own stitches?” 

“No. Someone else did after I insulted their mother.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You put him back together once again (you might have to start calling this man Humpty Dumpty, that will put him in his place) and start to peel off your gloves. “So when can I pick you up?” he asks, those dark eyes shining like high-polished ebony. 

“Half past never?”

“Hey, we had a deal.”

“We did, but then you cheated. Manhandling me at work is a major disqualification.”

“Pretty sure you liked it,” he fires back with a smirk.

You sigh, propping a hand on your hip, because he’s not wrong. You’re more than a little touch starved at the moment, and you’re sure the ease with which he manhandled you will haunt your dreams (your poor neighbor!) and fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. But there’s just something about this guy that warns you not to give in this easily. He feels…a little dangerous. To your physical health, or your personal sanity, you’re not sure. 

“Please try to be more careful with your stitches, Mr. Ludlow. Have a nice day.”

Understanding that he’s being dismissed, he stands, one step in the small room bringing him right in front of you–and boy, does he tower over you. You try to conceal how very much you like that, but fear you betray yourself in the shaky exhale that escapes you. “I’m just going to keep coming back,” he tells you, seeming far too pleased by the idea. 

“For your own health, I certainly hope you don’t.”

“I’m in a dangerous line of work. All sorts of things can happen.”

You pick up what he’s putting down pretty quick, and it annoys the shit out of you. “If you get yourself hurt on purpose, that is not on me.”

“Then save me some pain, sweetheart. Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm?”

“That’s doctors. I took a pledge to practice my profession faithfully–which I’m doing. Didn’t you? What happened to ‘Serve and Protect?’”

“Sure thing. And I keep my oaths too.” The weight with which he looks at you makes something warm and uncomfortable coil in your belly, radiating outwards to your fingers and toes. 

A man who keeps his promises? 

Never heard of him. 

You are too young to be this jaded, but maybe it’s better that you learned the hard lessons quicker than most. Maybe it will save you some pain in the interim. Avoiding this utterly edible man in front of you probably falls into that category. 

You stand silently, waiting for him to leave. He seems to find this funny as hell, and tips an imaginary cap down at you. “See you soon, y/n.” 

You hope not, but you’re afraid that’s a promise he’ll keep. 

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

No One Else (18+) (Request)

Pairings: Jack Harlow x Reader

Words: 1,629

Sneak Peak: “That’s right. I’m not jealous.” Jack could barely look you in the eye. He was incredibly turned on and slightly scared of you now. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Other girls may get to fantasize about being with Jack Harlow, but no one gets to ride and fuck you like I do. No one gets to make you cum like I do. No one feels pleasure from you like I do. A lot of girls will get to look, but I’m the only one who gets to touch.”

Warnings: Smut (intercourse, overstimulation), Language

“So, I don’t get the concept.” Jack looked at you, his eyebrows ruffled in confusion. You paused the TV, not wanting to miss a moment. “Lisa Vanderpump owns a restaurant in West Hollywood called SUR, and the show is about the employees who work there. Lots a good drama.” You wiggled your fingers villainously.  You pressed play. Jack turned back to the TV. “And who cheated on who?” You paused the TV again, letting out a huff of frustration. “Tom cheated on Ariana with Raquel.” You pressed play, again. Jack opened his mouth to ask his fifth question, but you covered his mouth with your hand. “No more questions, J. Just watch the show.” Jack licked the inside of your hand covering his mouth, you pulled away in disgust, wiping your hand on his pants leg. “Jack! That’s so disgusting!”

“Wait, so I can use my tongue on other parts of your body, and you love that, but on your hand its disgusting?” Jack laughed to himself as he got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.  You ignored your boyfriend’s accurate statement, snuggling under the blankets further, settling in for the night. Jack returned from the kitchen, a cup of tea in his hand, his focus on his phone. He handed you the tea, continuing to swipe up on his screen. “Something wrong?”, you asked as you took a sip from your mug. Jack plopped down on the couch. “No, Urban sent me a couple of options for the JACKMAN album cover. I just need to decide.” “Ooh, let me see!” you pulled the phone from Jack’s hand, and he pulled you in close to his side so you could look together. All the photos were of Jack shirtless, standing in an alleyway in his neighborhood. You stayed silent, shocked that Jack was okay with these photos. He had always been about the music, and while you thought he was walking sex, you never thought he would want to display his body like that on an album cover of all things.

Jack studied your face, your emotions written all over it. He was really trying to push the envelope with this album, give fans something they had never seen before. “Is it too much?” you shook your head to get out of your trance, handing Jack his phone back, sitting up on the couch. “It’s just something I thought you’d never do. Are you sure you want this to be on an album that millions of people are going are going to buy and download?”

“What’s the problem?” You started to get up from the couch, collecting your blanket and mug. Bed sounded like a good idea right about now.

“Wait, are you jealous?” You spun back to Jack on your heels, your face teeming with anger. “What is there to be jealous about?” you scoffed, hoping you were convincing. Jack stood up, walking toward you. “Everyone is going to get to see this bawdy you are so crazy about.” He grazed his hands up and down his body in an exaggerated fashion. You rolled your eyes, pushing his chest playfully with your hands. Jack grabbed your arms, pulling you into his body, his mouth close to your ear. His breath sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t worry baby, no need to be jealous.” His words had set you off. You considered yourself to be a calm, sensible person, but you drew the line at sharing your man. It brought the animalistic side of you out, thinking about other women touching his body. Jack of course knew this too, and he wanted to get you all riled up tonight.

You placed your mug down on the coffee table like a civilized person before shoving Jack down onto the couch. Without saying a word, you mounted him, your legs straddling his thighs. You raked your fingers through his curls, grabbing a handful at the back and roughly pulling his head back so his neck was exposed to you. Jack placed his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your side, as he guided you to writhe you covered pussy over his growing bulge. You kept the pace while dry humping him, your mouth suctioned to his neck, placing wet kisses on his skin. When he smacked your ass, you pulled his hair again, this time causing him to let out a groan out of both pain and pleasure.

Once you were satisfied your lips had left bruises on his skin, marking him for everyone to see, you turned your focus to his face. You leaned into him for a deep kiss, your tongue forcing his lips open, tangling with his tongue, the contact making it difficult to breathe. You pulled away from him, taking a second to enjoy the look of absolute lust and love on his face. “Fuck me, now.” Jack lifted you off his lap, laying you down beside him, shoving his pants and boxers off quickly.  You slipped your pajamas off, dropping them on the floor. His stiff cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his lower stomach. As he began to climb on top of you, you grabbed his cock in your hand, slowly stroking his length, Jack crumbing in your hold. “I wanna be on top” you whispered in his ear as you continued to get him off. Jack slumped down on the couch, his breathing erratic.

Once again you straddled his legs, this time balancing on your feet, so Jack would have a good view of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy. With one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you slowly dragged his cock through your folds, lubricating his dick with your wetness. You lingered on your clit, using the tip to stimulate yourself. Jack was practically drooling at the scene, subconsciously thrusting his hips at the sensation. “Fuck baby, I’m so wet for you. I want you to fuck me.” Without wasting a second, you slipped his cock into your pussy, the length filling you up, a moan escaping your lips.

Jack grabbed at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers. You bounced up and down on his cock, Jack matching your rhythm with thrusts of his hips, his balls hitting your ass in rapid succession. “Keep your eyes on it”, you directed Jack, him turning his gaze to see your wet, dripping pussy throbbing as his cock slid in and out. He let out another groan, this one more guttural than before. You leaned back as much as you could, adjusting to be on your knees, Jack grabbing your hips to steady you. With your free hand, you drew circles around your clit, the extra stimulation building your orgasm quickly. “I’m gonna cum all over your cock, Baby. Do you wanna see me cum?” Jack furiously shook his head, his eyes still focused on your body. You grabbed at both of his shoulders, your hips winding back and forth at a generous pace as you came to the peak of your orgasm. You squeezed your pelvic muscles hard around Jack’s cock, and he was only able to hold on for a couple of seconds before he was releasing into you.

Jack expected you to slip off his sensitive cock, but you had other plans. You slowed your hips, tricking him into thinking you were coming down from your orgasm, and without warning, you quickened your pace again, furiously writhing your hips on top of his cock. “Fuck, baby stop, I can’t do anymore.” Jack squirmed underneath you, his cock too sensitive to continue. In an act of boldness, you switched from swiveling your hips to bouncing on his cock, the movement causing Jack’s member to become hard again, and he groaned, pleading eyes looking up at you to stop.

You framed his head with your arms, getting dangerously close to his face. You never stopped your riding, Jack squeezing his eyes closed shut, clearly in pain. “I am not jealous”, you slowed your hips to allow for Jack’s dick to almost slip out of you before you slammed back down on him. All the air left Jack’s chest with that move, his mouth held open in shock. “Say it.” Jack could only manage to make sounds, his cock jerking from too much sensation. You didn’t like his lack of compliance, so you squeezed your core around his dick, and his hips bucked. “Please, please, Baby, please stop,” Jack could barely make out the words as he tried to avoid passing out, tears beginning to leak from his eyes. He tried to lift you off his cock, but you swatted his hands away. “Say it, and I’ll stop.” You continued your tirade, waiting for his response. “You’re not jealous.” Jack was gasping for breath, his eyes rolling back in his head.

You slowly lifted off him, settling in his lap, your wetness dripping down your leg. You reached down to collect your wetness, dragging your fingers across his lips. “That’s right. I’m not jealous.” Jack could barely look you in the eye. He was incredibly turned on and slightly scared of you now. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Other girls may get to fantasize about being with Jack Harlow, but no one gets to ride and fuck you like I do. No one gets to make you cum like I do. No one feels pleasure from you like I do. A lot of girls will get to look, but I’m the only one who gets to touch.” You got up and headed upstairs to take a shower, Jack still a babbling mess where you left him.

[pedroscurls]

Hold My Hand

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales , Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: For years, you have been in love with Frankie. Everyone else saw it, except him, and you never had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. Instead, you stuck by his side even when it hurt. And after Colombia, he hadn’t been the same. You knew he had demons (being a veteran and all), but this... This was different. Would Frankie finally open his eyes and realize that the woman he was meant to be with had been right in front of him all along? Word Count: 6,653 Author's Note: This is my first time writing this character, so if I’m a bit off, please let me know and give me some feedback! Anyway, I have been obsessed with Frankie and it might very well be my favorite character that Pedro has ever played. I hope you all enjoy this story. Enjoy and happy reading! (also this story may or may not be very loosely inspired by my own relationship with my partner). Warning: Mentions of death, killing, violence.

(song: Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga)

Present day

Francisco “Catfish” Morales. The man who had your heart. The man who you would do anything for. The man who had absolutely no clue how you felt. You had met Frankie and the rest of his group of friends five years ago and since then, you had always been by his side. 

You had seen him at his worst, at his best, even when he had proposed to, gotten married to, and had a child with his now ex-wife. Through it all, you pushed aside your love for him because you didn’t want to ruin such a great friendship you had with the man. After all, Frankie was your best friend. 

But now? Now, there was just something different about him. After his so-called “boys trip” with Will, Santiago, Benny, and Tom, he had been different. When you tried to pry out some information from the other men, no one gave you any details. They all stuck to the same story. You had thought asking Benny would be the way to go, but even he was tight-lipped, which made you wonder what this boys trip really was. 

The men had always come by where you worked (a hole-in-the-wall bar nearby a military base, which meant most of your patrons were either active duty or retired veterans). They always came by Wednesday night, every week, the same table, the same drinks, the same food. Their routine hadn’t changed, until the boys trip. Their weekly get-togethers became less frequent and you hadn’t seen Tom in so long. Even when you hung out with Frankie, all he wanted to talk about was how your life was going and his son, Mateo. While you didn’t mind, you missed him, missed the way he would smile and a dimple on the right side of his cheek would appear, missed the way his laughter would fill your heart, causing you to laugh too. 

“Hey, you there?” Frankie asked from over the phone, pulling you from your thoughts.

“What? Yeah, sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

“Hm,” was all he said. “Are you working today?” 

“Like always. Are you and the guys coming?”

“Oh, is it Wednesday?” 

You could tell his mind was elsewhere. He was distracted. Frankie had noticed that his sense of time was all over the place, probably because he barely got any sleep these days. 

“Last I checked, yeah.” You bit your lower lip. “Still having trouble sleeping?” 

Frankie huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’m managing.”

“Are you though?”

You could hear Frankie curse under his breath, which probably wasn’t a good idea on his end since he was holding the phone so close to his mouth. “Listen, I gotta go.”

“Wait,” you sighed. “I’m sorry if I pushed. I just–”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Frankie–”

“Gotta go.”

Before you could even object, he had already hung up the phone. You sighed and tucked your phone back into your pocket, standing from the table to head back to work. You hoped that you would see him today, see the rest of the guys actually. 

—

Five years ago

You had been working at the bar for a little over six months, moving to a new state for a new start. It was tough in the beginning, but you had come to enjoy the adventure that it brought. You had broken up with your long-term boyfriend after realizing that he hadn’t wanted to settle down, have kids– ultimately, you both just wanted different things. It hurt in the beginning, but the distance helped. Being in a new city where no one knew you alleviated most of the emotions you had felt when the breakup first happened. 

And the bar you had been working at was always a fun time. The men and women that came in were either active duty or retired veterans. While there had been a few mishaps that happened with some of the patrons, most of the time, it was calm, quiet, and even respectful. 

One Wednesday night, however, changed your entire life. Five men entered the quiet bar, deciding to occupy a table at the corner of the bar. You were taken aback. They were all so good looking in their own respective ways, but one man… One man in particular caught your attention immediately. 

“So, y’all coming to watch me fight this Friday or what?” Benny grinned, running a hand through his dark and dirty blonde locks. He was cute, had this boyish attractiveness to him and he definitely looked younger than the rest of the group. 

The other blonde-haired man looked over at Benny. Must be his brother, you thought. There were obvious resemblances, but you couldn’t help but notice how this one was a bit older, quieter, more reserved. “Yeah, we’ll be there, Ben.”

There was another man who spoke up and you noticed him standing from his chair. You immediately went back to focusing on cleaning the counter of the bar, trying to act like you weren’t just staring and eavesdropping. He was handsome, alluring, his salt and pepper beard neatly trimmed. He was definitely clean cut, walking towards the bar with a sense of confidence that you found sexy. 

“Um, excuse me?” He called out. “Can we get five beers?”

“Oh, sure. Of course. Keep the tab open or close out?”

The man glanced over his shoulder, looking at his friends with a smile. “Yeah, let’s keep it open.” He handed you his card and you took it without hesitation, turning your back to him to swipe his card. 

“You new here?” You heard him ask. 

After ringing up the drinks, you turned back to him and handed him his card. Then, you grabbed five glasses to fill with beer. 

“Yeah, but bartending has been something I’ve always done. Even back home,” you replied with a smile. 

“Oh, so this isn’t home?” 

You shook your head. He was friendly, easy to talk to, and it helped that he was also nice to look at. “California’s home.” 

“So, why Florida? Weather’s kind of the same, lots of beaches…”

“Relationship ended.” You said, handing him the glasses. “But I’m happier here.” 

“Well, I’m Santiago. You can call me Santi, or Pope,” he smiled. “If you ever need a tour guide, I’d be happy to be of service.”

You blushed, glancing over his shoulder to the table with his friends. They were watching you, but you couldn’t help but find yourself staring a bit longer at the man with a cap. 

“Pope?” You said with a smile. 

“It’s my callsign,” he replied. “Was in the service.”

You nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Bar near a military base.” You smiled, telling him your name. “By the way, your friends are staring a bit too hard over in this direction.”

Santiago looked over his shoulder and chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “Probably jealous I got to talk to you first.” 

“Ah, I see. This was all part of your plan, come over here, sweet talk the bartender?” 

He laughed quietly, glancing over at you. “Damn, you caught me.”

Looking over his shoulder again, your eyes met the man who was wearing a hat. You could tell that his dark curls were sticking out from underneath and he had this mysterious way about him. He seemed as reserved as the older, blonde-haired man, but you felt a pull towards him. Just something about him. 

“You wanna meet ‘em?” Santiago asked. “My friends, I mean.”

“Oh, you know…” You cleared your throat. “It’s fine. I don’t want to impose and–”

“Nonsense,” he smiled. “Guys!” He called over his shoulder, waving them over. Almost immediately, the remaining four stood from their seats and walked over to the counter of the bar. As the man with the hat came closer, you felt your heart beat faster, your cheeks slowly become hot, and all of a sudden, you were now looking at five good looking men. 

“This is Will,” Santiago said. Older, dark blonde-haired man.

“Benny, his younger brother.” You were right. They were brothers. 

“Tom.” Santiago pointed to the man with dark hair, his beard also tinged with gray. He was the only one wearing a wedding ring, but he had this permanent scowl that you found to be a bit intimidating.

“And this,” Pope said, wrapping an arm around the man with the hat. “This is Frankie.”

Frankie. 

He removed his hat, running a hand through his curls and he looked at you with such soft eyes, big, and brown that had you captivated instantly. He gave you a small smile and you noticed the dimple on his right cheek, right underneath the patchiness of his beard. 

“Nice to meet you guys,” you said, trying not to act too obvious that you were obviously more interested in one man. 

“She’s new to Florida. I figure we can show her around.” Santiago said, handing each man a glass. “You know, show her not the touristy areas.” 

“Santi,” Frankie mumbled.

“What?” he replied. 

Benny grinned. “That sounds like fun. I’m in. I’ve got a fight this Friday, you should come.”

You glanced over at Benny, watching him take a swig of his beer. He was leaning against the counter of the bar, flashing you a smile that felt welcoming and inviting. 

“A fight?” You asked.

“MMA,” Will responded. 

Your eyes widened, a small grin slowly appearing on your lips. “MMA? I’m in.”

Santiago arched his brow. “Are you a fan?”

“Huge fan,” you nodded. “Brings back a lot of memories with my grandpa.”

“Sounds like a good man with taste,” Benny chuckled. “Here.” He grabbed a napkin and a pen from over the bar and wrote down the details: the time and location. You looked down at the napkin and smiled, pocketing it into the front of your pants.

“I’ll be there.”

Benny smiled. Tom, on the other hand, was the one who interrupted the conversation by saying, “guys, we should probably head back, let the girl do her job.”

You cleared your throat, nodding in agreement. “It was great meeting you guys. If you need a refill, just let me know.” You turned your attention once the door to the bar opened, noticing two men entering and taking a seat at one end of the bar. You excused yourself, walking over to them to take their orders. 

“She’s nice,” Santiago said, following the guys to the table. “You think she’s really gonna show up on Friday?”

Frankie shrugged. “I’m willing to bet she was just being nice. You know, customer service and all of that.”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Seemed like genuine interest to me.”

“Will, back me up here,” Frankie added.

Will shrugged. “I don’t know, Fish,” he chuckled. “Hard to argue when her interest in the sport seemed very sincere.”

“Tom?”

Tom didn’t respond, just sipping from his beer.

“What’s the big deal, Fish?” Santiago asked. “She’s nice, she’s new to the area. Seems to me like she needs some friends.”

Frankie didn’t respond. He glanced over in your direction, taking note of how your smile lit up the entire room. There was something he hadn’t felt before, right in the pit of his stomach as he watched you move from behind the bar, making the drinks for the other patrons that had come in. 

“You got a crush, Fish?” Benny teased, letting out a quiet chuckle. 

“What?” Frankie whipped his head towards the younger man, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Just distracted, is all.”

“She is single,” Santiago grinned. “And she didn’t show me much interest.”

“You tried hitting on her?” Frankie asked, feeling a sudden sense of protectiveness wash over him. He hadn’t even said anything to you, just a simple wave when Santiago introduced you, but there was a pull he found himself fighting. He didn’t even know you, yet he wanted to… It had been a long time since he had shown any interest in anyone. 

“I wasn’t hitting on her, Fish, jesus.” Santiago sighed. “I was just being nice, that’s all.”

“You’re wound up tight,” Tom chimed in. “And you didn’t even say anything to her. Next round, you should go up there and order for us.”

Frankie shook his head. “I’m good.”

The rest of the men chugged their beers, looking over at Frankie with smirks written on their lips. “We’d like another, Fish,” Benny grinned.

“Hey, I still have mine to drink,” he replied. 

“Easy fix,” Benny smiled, reaching for Frankie’s drink and downing the contents. “Now, go on.”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “You guys are assholes.”

The remaining four men erupted in a fit of laughter. When Frankie stood up, he straightened out his shirt and removed his hat to fix his hair before placing the cap back on top of his head. He exchanged a look with Santiago, noticing how the other man maintained a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“Dale,” Santiago whispered. “Go.” 

Frankie took a deep breath and walked over in your direction. He didn’t know why he was nervous, but when you turned to face him, a smile on your face, he felt himself suddenly relax.

“Frankie,” you smiled. “You guys went through those fast.”

Frankie shrugged, biting his lower lip as he nodded. “Yeah, can we get another?”

“Of course. On the same card?”

“Yeah, same card. Drinks are on Santi tonight.” 

“You guys seem like a tight knit group,” you noticed, grabbing five glasses and one by one, filling the contents. You still maintained conversation, looking up at him. “Lots of history there?” 

Frankie nodded, taking a seat at the bar across from you. “We all served together.”

“Ah, so all of you are retired veterans?” 

“That’s right,” he replied. “Santiago mentioned earlier that you’re new here?”

You smiled to yourself. Frankie was listening. “I am, yeah.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” he smiled, feeling himself begin to relax as he continued to talk to you.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

Frankie arched his brow. “Ah. Bad breakup?” 

“Something like that.” You set the glasses on the counter of the bar in front of him, looking up at him. He was staring at you, his eyes piercing through you as everything around you seemed to disappear. All you could notice, could see, was him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You okay?” 

Ugh, he’s sweet. Your heart raced even further. You barely knew this man and here he was, showing genuine concern over your wellbeing. “Yeah, it was my decision. We wanted different things, wasted a lot of my years being unhappy, so moving to Florida without much of a plan seemed like a good idea.”

“And is it?” Frankie asked. “A good idea?”

“So far? It’s been challenging, but just what I needed.”

He smiled at that. Frankie liked the fact that you seemed so motivated, determined to make something of your life. You had noticed that life in California was no longer serving you and while plenty of people would have settled for the sake of being afraid of change, here you were, jumping feet first into the unknown. He liked it. 

“This might be too forward, but–”

“I was thinking–”

Both of you let out a quiet laugh, looking into each other’s eyes. 

“You go ahead,” Frankie said. 

You smiled. Since moving to Florida, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, doing things you had never thought you’d ever do. And this moment? You were going to take the first step and ask him for his number. 

“Can I get your number?” You asked quietly.

Frankie’s eyes slightly widened at that. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. In fact, he had thought that maybe you were interested in Santiago, Will, or Benny, but him? He didn’t see the appeal.

“Oh, um…” he began, hesitating.

You felt embarrassed, immediately shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t know what I was thinking. We barely know each other and–”

“I should probably get these beers to the guys,” he interrupted. Frankie didn’t know why he didn’t just give his number, maybe it was the fact that he had a lot of baggage that he didn’t want to share with anyone. This isn’t to say, though, that he wished he had the courage to just give it to you. 

“Right, sorry,” you sighed. “It was nice talking with you, Frankie.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” he smiled. “See you Friday?” 

You bit your lower lip, thinking back to Benny’s invitation for the fight night. You were a woman of your word and while you felt highly embarrassed, you still decided to go. “See you Friday.” 

And every Friday since meeting Frankie, Santiago, Will, Benny, and Tom, you had spent it with them, watching Benny fight. While the first conversation with Frankie had been awkward and embarrassing, every week your friendship blossomed and it had taken him three months to finally give you his number.

—

Three years later

You were spending Friday night with the guys again. For the past three years since meeting them, you had felt like you were now an honorary member of their group. Each of them had their own personality, differing from each other, but Frankie… Frankie was the one you were closest to. 

It was easy when it came to talking to him. He made you laugh, made you smile, and his efforts to always try to cheer you up when you had a bad day was welcoming, inviting, and it had been a long time since you had felt this way. 

But for three years, you were in denial of the feelings you had for him. Everyone in the group, however, noticed it long before you had. The way you and Frankie would hang out (just the two of you), the inside jokes you two shared, the look of longing you had whenever you were with him. It wasn’t until when something unexpectedly happened that it opened your eyes to the reality of your friendship with him. 

You were in love with this man, in love with Frankie. 

It was a Friday night. As usual, you and the rest of the guys were sitting in the front row, waiting for Benny to walk out to the cage. He had been on a winning streak lately and you were all so excited of the possibility that he may become something more than just an underground MMA fighter. 

Before Benny’s music came on, your phone rang. So, you excused yourself from the group and walked towards the back of the room where it was less quiet. Frankie had looked over his shoulder to watch you, both of you locking eyes. He let a smile line his lips and you nodded in his direction, letting him know that you were okay. 

But the moment you heard your mother’s voice on the other end, your smile faltered and tears instantly pricked your eyes. 

“What?”

“Grandpa’s – He’s gone,” you heard your mom say. “It was a heart attack. We need you to come home, baby.”

“But… I just talked to him a couple of days ago. He said he was fine, he sounded fine, he –”

“Come home,” your mom repeated, hearing her sniffle on the other end. 

“Okay, mom. I’ll – I’ll figure it out. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Once you got off the phone with your mom, you wiped your tears away and walked back towards the group. This was one fight night that you would have to miss and you knew Benny would understand. 

“Hey, Benny’s about to –”

“I can’t stay,” you replied to Santiago. 

“Is everything okay?” You heard Frankie ask. His brows were furrowed together and his eyes had softened a great deal. 

“N – No,” you whispered, tears slowly falling from your eyes. “My grandpa… He died and I just have to get home. I have to book a flight and pack and–” 

All of the guys knew how close you were to your grandpa. So without hesitation, they all understood, all muttered their condolences. But it was Frankie that had taken that extra step. He reached for you and pulled you into a tight hug, his strong arms wrapping around your frame. Resting your head against his chest, you let yourself cry, despite the loud crowd erupting in cheers when Benny walked out. 

“Let me take you,” Frankie said. “I can fly you to California.” 

“Fish,” Santiago said. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“You guys should leave tonight. Benny will understand. We’ll let him know after his fight,” Will said, his hand rubbing your back comfortingly. 

“Go,” Santiago said. 

“Frankie, I can’t –”

“It’s not up for debate. I’m taking you.” He pulled back, looking down at you once more with those soft eyes. It was in that moment you felt your heart skip a beat; the way he was looking at you and the way he was willing to drop everything to make sure you got home… You loved this man. 

You grabbed your things while Frankie said goodbye to the rest of the guys. Santiago pulled him in for a hug and you saw him whisper something in Frankie’s ear, which caused the other man to nod once he pulled away. After he said his goodbyes, you hugged each and every one of them. They all held you tighter and longer than normal and you felt like you could have broken down all over again. 

Santiago pulled back to look at you, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears away with a swift motion of his thumbs. Everyone felt like your big brother. Everyone except Frankie. 

“Call us when you get there, okay?” 

You nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t stay and–”

“Stop,” he said with a small smile. “Frankie will take care of you.”

“I know,” you replied. “I just–”

“You be there for family,” Santiago interrupted. “And we’ll be here, waiting for you to come back.”

“I love you guys,” you whispered, your voice shaky and tears threatening to spill over again. 

Santiago smiled and kissed your forehead before letting you go. You turned around and noticed Frankie with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting patiently, but that look of concern was permanent on his features. Once you both left the building, he brought you over to his car and before he could unlock it, Frankie grabbed your hand and pulled you to him. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. 

You nodded, your arms wrapping around him tightly. Being in his arms like this felt normal, felt like you belonged there. The feeling he gave you was nothing like you ever experienced before.

It was a couple of hours into the flight when Frankie spoke. He had been focused on piloting the small plane that he hadn’t checked in to see how you were doing. 

“So, I was thinking I can get a hotel once we get to California.”

“What?” You asked, looking over at him. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I wanna be there for you,” he said, glancing over at you. “Besides, how else are you gonna get back to Florida?”

“Hm, maybe just buy a plane ticket and –”

Frankie shook his head. “And spend all that money when you got a pilot as a friend?”

You sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He reached out to rest a hand over yours. “We look out for each other, you know? Make sure that the other person is okay.” 

“Thank you,” you said, biting your lower lip. This wasn’t the first time he had rested a hand over yours, but this was the first time that you felt the love you had for him. 

“Do you wanna meet my family?” You asked hesitantly. 

Frankie squeezed your hand before letting it go to rest it back onto the steering of the plane. “Is that gonna be okay?”

“I have talked about you and the guys, so you won’t be a complete stranger.”

Frankie smiled. “Hm, you’ve been talking about us, huh? What have you been saying?”

Despite the circumstances, Frankie managed to make you smile. “It’s a secret.” 

Frankie didn’t push any further. He just gave you a single nod before turning his focus ahead of him. You didn’t know if you were ready to get back home, especially now that your grandpa wasn’t going to be there to welcome you. It hurt to know that the man who had always been there for you was now gone. He was a big part of your life and it just didn’t seem real that he wasn’t going to be here anymore. 

Later that night after you got to California, Frankie had gotten a rental car to drive you to your childhood home. You had been quiet the entire drive, aside from the quiet sniffles he heard. Once again, he reached over for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You’ve been quiet. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes and attention out the window as you watched the houses pass as he continued to drive. “I’m just gonna miss him, that’s all…”

Frankie sighed. He never was good at talking about emotions or feelings, that was more up Will’s alley, but seeing you like this when you were usually always so positive, hurt and he wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way. Maybe because you were just a really good friend, but even after plenty of talks with the guys and especially Santiago, he had started to wonder if there was something more to this friendship. 

And as he continued to drive, all he could hear was Santiago’s voice before you and Frankie left. 

“You take care of her,” Santiago whispered, keeping his hold on Frankie as they remained in a hug. “She’s gonna need you.”

“Pope–”

“I’m serious, Fish. Be there for her.”

“I will,” Frankie nodded.

“That woman loves you so much,” he chuckled, pulling away. “I don’t even think she realizes it.”

“She loves all of us, man.”

“Yeah, but not in the way that she loves you.”

Frankie glanced over at you once he pulled up to your childhood home. He put the car in park and couldn’t help but notice that you hadn’t even looked in his direction the entire drive. He wasn’t sure if what Santiago said was true, but he knew that he couldn’t cross that boundary with you, and he certainly wasn’t going to take a chance on something that was possibly far from the truth. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here with you, okay?” 

When you finally turned to look at him, Frankie noticed your eyes were red and your lips were the opposite of what he was used to. You weren’t smiling. You weren’t happy. You were grieving and Frankie didn’t know how to handle that. 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m staying.” 

“There’s gonna be a lot of people crying.”

Frankie shrugged. “It’ll be fine.” He didn’t want to admit to you that death had been something he had gotten used to. Being in the military, he had seen his fair share of dead bodies, had lost plenty of friends along the way, and he had become numb to it. “Come on…” 

You nodded and climbed out of the car. Once Frankie was standing in front of you, you immediately wrapped your arms around him, crying into his chest as he held you. He didn’t like seeing you like this, didn’t enjoy the feeling in the pit of his stomach that gave him a clear understanding that his feelings for you were not just something a friend would feel towards another. This was different. 

And throughout the weekend, Frankie had become part of your family almost instantly. Despite the constant crying from your other family members and especially from you, he had been your anchor, keeping you grounded. He had met your parents, met your grandma, and it almost felt like he belonged here, with you. 

“Grandpa would have loved him,” you heard your mom say, watching as Frankie and your grandma were talking with each other. 

“I think so too,” you replied. When your mom wrapped her arm around you, you leaned in almost immediately. “He’s great, the rest of the guys are.”

Your mom smiled, looking down at you and back towards Frankie and your grandma. Frankie had managed to make her laugh and while you weren’t sure what they were talking about, you found yourself so enamored with the way he was so gentle and so caring towards her. 

“You love him,” your mom said. 

“What?” You asked, shaking your head. “No way. He’s just a really good friend.”

“You’re lying to yourself, honey.”

“Mom,” you sighed. “We’ve known each other for three years, so of course we’re gonna get close and –”

“I’ve never seen you look at a man like that,” she said. “Not even with your previous relationship and I thought you were gonna marry the guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mom, Frankie’s just a friend. Besides, even if I did love him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“But what if he loves you too?”

You arched a brow. “He doesn’t.” But that would certainly change things. “We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, kissing your temple. “If your grandpa was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

“I miss him, a lot,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes again. “Hard to believe that he isn’t here anymore.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know.”

Frankie had glanced over in your direction, flashing you a small smile before he turned his attention back to your grandma. Your mom noticed this and smiled, gently nudging you. “He’s a good one.”

You nodded in agreement, “he is.” 

Once you had said goodbye to everyone, you and Frankie were making your way back to the airport. It had been a weekend filled with a lot of tears, but also plenty of laughter as you and your family reflected on the moments you had with your grandpa. It also helped to have Frankie with you and seeing how he so easily fit in with your family made you reflect on what your mom had said. 

“But what if he loves you too?”

—

Present day

You were anticipating the guys coming to the bar, like they always had, but every time the door opened and it wasn’t them, you were met with disappointment. You didn’t know when everything changed, but you did have an idea that it might have had to do with their “boys trip” to Colombia. 

Throughout the rest of your shift, neither guys had shown up. So, when you had clocked out and left the bar, you made a note to visit Santiago. If anyone would tell you what’s going on, it would be him. It was late, but you knew that the guys had trouble sleeping, the cause of it due to being in the military. 

After twenty minutes, you parked your car along the curb to see Frankie’s car in the driveway as well. Confused, you walked up to the front door and knocked on it twice. It wasn’t long before Santiago opened the door and a confused, yet surprised, look spread across his features.

“Santi,” you said. 

“You okay?” He asked. “It’s late and –”

“We gotta talk.”

“Now’s not a good time.”

Then, you heard Frankie’s voice. 

“I think now’s the perfect time.” 

Santiago sighed and nodded, opening the door even further to let you in. Once inside, you walked towards the living room to see the rest of the guys – not only Frankie – sitting at the couch. 

“Wow,” you said. “So, this is where you guys go now.”

Frankie cleared his throat. Will and Benny looked at each other before turning their attention to you.

“We were going to stop by, but–”

“I don’t care if you guys don’t come to the bar,” you sighed, interrupting Benny. “But what I do care about is why in the hell you guys are acting so differently.”

Santiago had entered the room, leaning against his bookshelf. He glanced at the rest of the guys and sighed. He had to speak first. 

“Nothing’s going on,” Santiago said. “We just – It’s been a year since Colombia and we all just wanted to talk about it.”

“Ah, your boys trip. Where’s Tom, then? I haven’t seen him.”

The guys shared a look. It was a sad one. A look of regret, of disappointment, of failure. 

“Okay, I get it. You don’t wanna share the details, that’s fine. I’m not going to pry, but I just –” you sighed, your eyes falling on Frankie as you continued. “I just care about you guys and want to make sure you’re all okay.” 

“We’re fine,” Will said. “It’ll be fine.”

“But –”

Benny shouted. He had been four drinks in and was definitely feeling the effects of alcohol. “You don’t know what we’ve been through, what we’ve seen, what we’ve had to do! So please,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t act like you can fix us.”

You cleared your throat. You weren’t expecting that and you were about to say something before Frankie stood up. 

“Let’s talk outside.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m okay. I didn’t mean to come in here and act like I wanted to fix you guys, so I apologize if it seemed that way. I do care about you all and I just – You’ve always been there for me. I figure I should at least return the favor, especially when I can visibly see how much all of you are hurting.”

Will gently shoved Benny, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him,” he replied. “He’s not – We’re not okay, but we will be.”

You always knew Will to be the honest one out of the group and you gave him a nod in appreciation. You glanced over at Santiago and Frankie, biting your lower lip. 

“I’m just gonna go.”

Santiago called your name with a quiet sigh. “Listen, if we could tell you, we would.”

“I know,” you whispered. You spared another glance at Frankie, watching him sit back down. “Have a good night. I’ll see myself out.”

You didn’t bother to wait for a response. Instead, you turned on your heel and left Santiago’s house, shutting the door quietly behind you. Once you were in your car, you felt tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You let out a shaky breath and pulled away from the curb, making your way back to your apartment. 

“You should go check up on her,” Will said to Frankie after you had left.

“Why me?”

Santiago and Will shared a look, but it was Benny that spoke up.

“Because she loves you, Fish.”

“No,” Frankie said. “If she loved me, why’d she let me get married?”

Santiago shook his head. “Idiota.”

“What?” Frankie asked. 

“That woman has been by your side since the moment we met her five years ago and you’re telling me that the love she has for all of us is the same love she has for you?” Will replied, quietly chuckling to himself. 

“She didn’t want to ruin your friendship,” Benny spoke up, grabbing his beer. “She didn’t want to ruin something because she never knew how you felt.” 

“And let’s be honest,” Santiago added. “You love her too.”

Frankie tightened his jaw. All of the guys were right and it pained him to realize that he had let his fears – and yours – get in the way of what could have possibly been something great. 

“She’s one of my best friends,” Frankie replied. “Of course I love her.”

“Maybe,” Santiago said. “But you love her more than that.” 

“Go get her, Fish.” Will added. 

“She’s not gonna wait forever.” Benny chimed in. 

“She waited five years and watched you marry someone else… There’s gonna come a time, Fish, where she realizes that it might be better to move on,” Santiago finished. “You really gonna let her get away?” 

Frankie glanced over at Santiago. All he could think about was the endless amount of times where you had been there for him and especially the time where he had flown you to California after your grandpa passed away. It was odd to him how easily he fit in with your family and how at home he felt. 

Even with his ex-wife, he hadn’t ever felt like that. 

But with you? With you, it was different. Frankie felt like he could be himself, like he didn’t have to constantly impress you (or your family). With you, Frankie could let his guard down and be absolutely vulnerable with you and he hadn’t realized how much that meant to him until now, five years later. 

“I’m gonna call an Uber,” Frankie finally spoke up. 

“Finally!” Benny laughed, a stark contrast of how he had just reacted when you were here. 

“Go get her,” Santiago smiled. 

“Atta boy,” Will said. 

—

You had changed into your pajamas, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. Your hair was put in a hair clip and you had finished heating up your leftover pizza when you heard a knock at your door. It was well after midnight and you carefully looked at the peephole to see who it might be, but when you saw Frankie standing on your porch, hat sitting on his wavy locks, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, you felt your heart leap at the sight of him.

Slowly opening the door, he raised his eyes to meet yours. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you replied, opening the door even further for him to come in. Once he stepped inside, he removed his boots and glanced around your apartment, smelling the aroma of pizza. 

“Frankie –”

“Is that –”

Both of you let out a quiet chuckle. 

“You go first,” Frankie said. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Frankie sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he let out a nervous chuckle. “On the ride here, I had an idea of what I was going to say to you, but now… Now I can’t remember.” 

“If it has anything to do about earlier with the guys, just know that I –”

“No,” he shook his head. “It isn’t about that. We – We have a lot of baggage and we all know you come from a place of love, but sometimes, we just don’t think we’re deserving of it.”

“Frankie…”

“Why did you let me get married?” He asked abruptly. 

“What?” You asked, biting your lower lip. “You were happy. Why wouldn’t I?”

Frankie stepped closer to you. There were plenty of times where he had been so close to you, but this time… This time was different. 

“But were you?”

“What are you implying, Frankie?” 

He reached out for you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. Frankie watched as you leaned against his touch, your eyes falling shut. 

“You have always been by my side,” he whispered, taking another step closer to you. Mere inches separated your bodies and his thumb gently caressed you. “No matter what, you were always there.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “Because I care about you, about all of you guys.”

Frankie bit his lower lip nervously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Frankie…” you knew what he was referring to, what he was implying and as his thumb brushed along your lower lip, you let it part. 

Frankie didn’t reply, but instead leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into him, your arms immediately snaking around his neck as his arms wrapped your waist. He gently lifted you off the ground, moving his lips against yours. Pulling away after a few seconds, he set you back down your feet and looked into your eyes.

“I’m never letting you go.” 

---

@pedrostories​

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, it was like coming home, where the old stone walls kept you warm even when they were so cold. But this time, having left your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone already knew. Every time someone looked at you, underlying judgement was inherent in their gaze.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had said anything to your face yet, but the nasty expressions they wore gave them away. Girls from year five had always greeted you, had looked up to you, trying to impress older students and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though their stares bore holes into the back of your head and when they thought you were out of earshot, they would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She was your best friend since your first year in Hogwarts and being with her had always been easy. She was a breath of fresh air - humble, fun and a loyal friend. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, that the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. Camille’s mouth hung open by the end, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year and I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather, Marvolo. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if they’re going through with the pact like you said, you’re going to marry him. Do you like him at least? In any way?”

“I… don’t know. I hardly know him. Though he seems to take after his grandfather, unfortunately.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. We’ll have to get along someday after all.”

“Good idea,” Camille nodded. “You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a man. They're all quite similar if we're honest.”

“I’m not sure he’s similar to most men we know, Camille,” you said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to find out, then. Maybe, deep down, he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. Either Morfin had slipped some Forgetfulness Potion into Tom’s tea, or he actually detested you that much, because it felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? It was unfathomable.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt, a Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to put it mildly. Perhaps he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet. 

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced? 

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Git,” you said and rushed out of the great hall. 

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Emlyn Avery and Tiernan Lestrange were the worst of them. The two boys were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, it was clear how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

It had become a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends. This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he take ages to get his point across, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer. 

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice. 

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

They didn’t answer right away but exchanged an involuntary glance with each other. A sore point. Interesting.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that. “None of your business.”

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your good friend who confides everything to you.”

Their faces turned red, their embarrassment obvious. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered, “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 3

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaid Pt.9

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane SMUT: Breeding Kink, Semi-public sex)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

You had no idea when your visit to the North took such a grim turn, but you had a sneaking suspicion it started when the queen began to task you with more and more of her children's upkeep.

"Consider it practice for your own" she assured you as she took up her cloak one evening.

You knew better than to ask where she was going, even as a Lady that was beyond your station.

Between Joffery battling with Rob Stark, Tommen's near constant skinned knees, and Marcella's whining of boredom, you found yourself overwhelmed with the task. It was an all day chore and despite it being impressed upon you that you were expected to get pregnant quickly, you could find very little time for it.

"Need some company?" you looked up from monitoring Tommen and found Lady Stark standing over you.

"Oh, please." You breathed a sigh of relief.

"You know" Lady Stark looked over her shoulder. "Sometimes it helps if you let them hurt themselves just a little bit."

"Really?"

"That's the only way some children learn" she shrugged. "Take my Arya for example. It doesn't matter how many times you tell her something, if she doesn't learn the hard way she won't learn at all. Here, watch-" she motioned to Tommen who was about to curiously touch a stinging nettle for what must have been the 10th time that day.

"Tom-"

"No, no." Lady Stark stopped you, "let him learn on his own"

You held your breath as the 5 year old wrapped a pudgy hand around the nettle leaves and instantly cried out, more out of fear than pain.

"Oh dear" you scooped him up and placed him on you lap to soothe him. "There, there little prince. You're alright. I told you not to play with the nettles, darling."

Tommen sobbed briefly into your shoulder until he caught his breath and sniffed pitifully.

"There now," Lady Stark caressed his light blonde curls, "I bet you won't play with nettles again, isn't that right?"

The tot nodded ruefully and slipped off your lap to return to his carved toy soldiers.

Catelyn smiled approvingly before glancing over your shoulder and nudging you with her shoe, "You're being watched, my dear."

You glanced behind you to find your husband looming half in the shadows of the stables, eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

"Go on. I'll watch him for a bit" Catelyn goaded you with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, I couldn't do that. You shouldn't have-"

"Go." Catelyn pushed again. "I was a newlywed once. Just....make it quick"

You blushed and glanced around before slipping into the stables, searching for Sandor around each corner until you found him in an empty stall in the back.

"Husband" you greeted Sandor expectantly.

"Wife" he nodded with a smirk.

"A quickie in the hay? What are we teenagers?" you joked, pressing yourself up against him firmly, one hand wandering to the laces of his trousers. "I only have a few minutes, Lady Stark is manning my post"

You gasped as two large hands pressed into your waists with much more care than they had the first time you found yourself into a similar position.

"I can work with that." Sandor assured you, setting you on the edge of the stall divider, your back pressed against a beam while your ass balanced on the edge.

You quickly raised your skirts as he fumbled with his own clothes between kissing mouths and groping hands.

There was something exciting about it, you thought as your husband pushed into you with little resistance. The chance of someone, anyone, walking in. The knowledge that you'd have to walk back out of here trying to seem as casual as possible, as if you hadn't just been fucked within an inch of your life and The Hound's cum wasn't dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, Sandor. A little higher" you instructed him between pants, muffling your moans into the leather of his jerkin when his length began to fuck into you at the best possible angle.

Sandor found it easier to keep quiet during sex, but his fingers weaved themselves through your hair and gripped it tightly. Ensuring you'd have to at least try to re do it when you were done.

"Don't stop," you begged him, crossing your ankles around his hips to pull him closer "so close, just keep going"

Your husband, ever eager to please you, obeyed and picked up the pace. The hand on your hip keeping you balanced gripped into your flesh hard and you knew he wouldn't last much longer.

You pushed a hand between the two of you, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fiercely with two fingers to hurry you both along. Sandor finished first, pulling you tightly to his chest and muffling himself in your neck as you felt the heat of his seed fill you.

Not one to be left behind, you kept your legs locked around him firmly and let your cunt milk him dry as waves of pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks. Leaning against the beam behind you with your husband half collapsed on your shoulder, you both took a moment to catch your breath before climbing down and trying to make yourselves look presentable.

"Fuck, my hair" you laughed, pulling out stray bits of straw and opting to just take it all down and wrap in back into a bun instead. "Way to be subtle."

"Fuck you, you loved it" Sandor shot back, pulling you in for a brief kiss, "We should go before we're missed"

"I know, I-"

You never finished your sentence.

A bloodcurdling scream peirced the air and set the entire court yard into action.

"Oh Gods, the children!" The little prince and princess were the first thing on your mind as you dashed out of the stables, kicking up straw and dust behind you.

Tommen was with Marcella and after a quick once over, you found neither of them were hurt.

"Princess, where is the Lady Catelyn?" You asked the 10 year old who had started to cry.

"She- she went to-to find..." The princess struggled to get the words out between fearful sobs.

"Shshsh" you caressed her rosey face gently and hugged her and Tommen to you, "It's okay, stay close to me."

Sandor located Joffrey quickly enough and brought him to join his siblings despite his princely objections.

"Sandor, what's happening?"

"I don't know, someone got hurt that's all I can make sense of" his hand sat on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any given moment.

A mob of at least 10 men came barreling through the courtyard and you watched as the Winterfell Maester rushed past you with a look of grim dread spreadinh across his aged face.

The whispers around you began to take on more and more detail.

Stark boy

Climbing

Fall

Dead

"Oh Gods" you gripped the children as the mob came back, slowly toting a cot on their shoulders that bore the scant body of a boy no more than 10. "Children, don't look. Don't"

Catelyn Stark, who the whispers said found the boy at the base of an unused tower, followed the procession supported by her eldest boy and the Winterfell ward, Theon Greyjoy.

Her body was ghostly white and nearly limp as her wails echoed through the yard and raised the hairs on your neck.

"That poor, poor woman" you breathed solemnly. "Come children, we should find your mother."

Cersei, for some reason or another, proved strangely hard to track down. When you did find her, she looked oddly tense.

"Your grace," you breathed, "There's been a terrible accident"

You recounted the scene in the courtyard, which the queen received with an almost expressionless face.

"How dreadful" she breathed, "simply awful. That poor boy."

She reached out to put her hand on yourself with a kind smile, "You've been through quite an ordeal. I'll send the children to their Septa, you should go rest. You look tense."

You began to object, assuring her you were perfectly fine, just a little shaken. But she insisted firmly that you were tired and should rest.

-----------

The rest of the visit was frightfully grim, and insanely boring.

In light of Bran Stark's injuries, all events planned by the king had been canceled. Instead everyone waited around with bated breath, each day waiting to hear if the little lord made it through the night.

"I miss the south" you finally said one night, tucked under Sandor's arm

"Go to sleep"

"I can't"

"Why not?"

You didn't have an answer. With a frustrated grumble, your husband pulled you closer, practically on top of you.

"We're leaving in 2 days. You can make it, I promise."

"You don't know that" you smiled a little, teasing him, "This Northern air may kill me"

"Oh, because the air in King's Landing is such an improvement."

"It's familiar"

"Hm" Sandor pressed a kiss to your temple before rolling over, "Go to bed before I fuck you to sleep"

"Promise?" You scoffed, leaning over his shoulder and leaving a trail of kisses up to his ear. "Seriously though, I do have a question."

"Oh for fucks sake."

"It's important" you insisted, "When we get back, the queen is going out of her way to make me a member of her court. She's showing me immense favor."

"And?"

"And..." you breathed, "I have a feeling she's going to want things to go back to the way they were....and I need to know if you're okay with that."

Sandor mumbled under his breath but sat up to face you. "Does that matter?"

"Of course it does." You scoffed, "listen I know neither of us intended to get married, but you are my husband. And I like that you are my husband. And if this is going to make you uncomfortable, then I need to know so I can find a way out of it."

Sandor stared at you a moment, considering this. It hadn't really occurred to him that he'd have any say in the situation.

"Well, you've come this far" he breathed, pulling you against him, "if fucking the queen makes life easier for the both of us, then hell, fuck the queen"

"Really?"

"Shit, if it did me any good, I'd fuck her too." Sandor chuckled, "but if I see that cunt of a brother of hers getting too friendly, I'll throw his ass from a tower"