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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Under the Mistletoe || OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x bff!fem!reader Summary: Sick of his friends pining for each other but two stupid to realise it was mutual, Logan sets about making sure they both get their Christmas wish. Warnings: pining, angst, fluff WC: 2.2k

“Hold up, let me find his spare key,” Logan said as he balanced his box on top of the one you already carried.

“Just use mine,” you said as you carefully turned. “Back pocket, left. Other left, dude.”

“My bad.” Logan grabbed the keychain and tried the ones that weren’t your car or letterbox keys. “He gave you a key?”

“Just so I can water the plants while he’s away, and make sure the stove is turned off.”

Logan laughed, turning the right key and opening the door. “He doesn’t even cook.”

You shrugged and followed him into Oscar’s house. “Doesn’t stop him thinking he’s left it on as soon as he’s at the airport.”

It was like walking into your own apartment, there was a home comfort to hanging your keys on the hook that had your initials and hanging your coat on the rack. Picking your box up again, you followed Logan to the kitchen and deposited it on the bench before grabbing two glasses and pouring you both a much deserved drink.

“This is why people don’t believe you are ‘just friends’,” Logan stated, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him and continued to help yourself to the snacks Oscar kept stocked for you.

“Just shut up and hang the decorations before I overlook your usefulness.”

Logan returned to his box, unpacking the tinsel and bunting that you had bought. “At least you didn’t deny it this time.”

“We are definitely just friends, Lo.” You looked down at the crisp packet and muttered under your breath, “I’m not his type anyway.”

You didn’t notice Logan pause, but you did look up when he shoved his handful back in the box. “What?”

“What?” you echoed.

“What did you say?”

“We are just friends.”

“No, after that.” He leaned back against the kitchen benchtop and crossed his arms. “How do you know you’re not his type?”

“Because we are friends, we talk about these things,” you said with a shrug. “Can we not talk about this right now? He’s going to be home in a few hours.”

“We have time,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “What makes you think you’re not his type?”

You huffed in annoyance and grabbed the decorations yourself, taking them to the living room since Logan was going to be no help. “Because I’m not, okay. He likes funny girls. He wants someone he can have a laugh with to take his mind off work when he gets home. And pretty too, actually he said ‘beautiful’.”

“Okay…” Logan stared at you until you grew uncomfortable.

“And he's surrounded by models at every event.”

“So why isn’t he dating one of them then?”

“Because his standards are obviously high if they aren’t pretty enough for him. I don’t stand a chance.”

Logan shook his head and groaned. “Have you told him that you love him?”

“Of course I have, I tell him all the time.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You gave him a look that warned him not to ask another stupid question. “I’m not going to risk our friendship when my relationships never end well. I’d rather be his friend forever, than an ex I never see again.”

“God, you are both so stupid.” Logan brushed you aside as you tried to jump and reach the hooks high up the wall. “Give me that before you hurt yourself.”

You watched on as he hung the tinsel around the room with minimal guidance needed and deemed it safe enough to leave him in charge. Oscar was fairly tidy, compared to the other men you know, but his pet hate was making his bed. He would always leave it unmade claiming he was only going to make it messy again that night.

You went upstairs and made the bed before seeing the laundry basket was overflowing. He mustn’t have had time to do it between his trip to Baku, the McLaren Factory and then his short trip home to Melbourne. That was why you were in his house, setting it up for another Christmas he would miss with his family. You didn’t want him to feel alone so you were bringing Australia to him.

You lost track of time when you found his whites mixed in with the colours and you tutted to yourself as you separated them to soak in the sink.

“You don’t have to do that,” Oscar said when he found you in his laundry, both the dryer and the washing machine working as hard as you.

“Hey, you’re home!” You dropped the clothes you were folding and threw your arms around him. His tired chuckle made your heartbeat a little fast as he embraced you back and buried his face in your neck. “How’s mum and dad? And your sisters? Did they like the presents?”

His head grew heavier as he leaned against you and nodded. “Of course they did, you always know what they want.”

“Not me, you,” you corrected as you brushed a hand over his messy hair. “You got them remember.”

Oscar pulled back with a shy smile. “I think everyone knows you are the mastermind. I would have just given them a gift card.”

You laughed at the truth as the dryer finished another load but Oscar took your hand and towed you out of the laundry. “I’ll do it later,” he stated. “Logan’s already got the tree up but there’s one thing missing.”

Your jaw dropped as you saw the living room had been completely transformed into an Australian Christmas so Oscar would feel at home. A pine tree sat in the corner of the room, needles scattered around the base from trying to manoeuvre it into place. Like the ceiling, green and gold tinsel snaked around the tree but it was the floor that caught your eye.

“The sand was meant to be in the pool,” you laughed as you pointed to the small children’s sized blow up pool still in the box. Logan had poured the bags of golden sand around the tree and the wooden floor now resembled a tiny beach.

“You know, that makes more sense,” Logan admitted.

You bit your lip but it did little to stifle the laugh and when Oscar’s deeper laugh joined there was no holding back. The three of you collapsed laughing onto the couch to embrace the beach themed room and you kicked your shoes off to dig your toes into the sand.

“It’s so weird to imagine,” you chuckled, the snow falling outside a complete contradiction to the scene inside. The central heating had been cranked up to its hottest setting and it truly felt like summer. “Christmas is for making snowmen and having hot chocolate by the fire.”

Oscar draped his arm over the back of your cushion and stretched his legs out after his long flight. “How about next year I can take you home to experience this first hand?”

You smiled at the idea but you couldn’t make that commitment by saying yes, even if you wanted nothing more than to make it happen. “Maybe, let’s just see what the year brings. Who knows, you might want to take your girlfriend home.”

He looked at you with a frown. “I don’t have a girlfriend, yet.”

“Exactly, yet.”

“Idiots,” Logan mumbled as he got up. “I’m getting a drink. You guys want one?”

You both thanked him and as he left the room Oscar patted your knee. “Star time.”

You grinned at the fact he remembered your favourite part of setting the tree up and his hands settled on your hips when you reached it. “I can’t be bothered getting the ladder out,” he said before he picked you up. You placed the glittery star on the highest point and adjusted it a few times more than necessary until Oscar laughed and eased you down. But his hands still remained on your hips. “It’s perfect.”

Logan returned and the moment shattered as you took your drink from him and cleared your throat. “Merry Christmas, my orphan friends.”

“Thanks for the adoption,” Logan chuckled. “If I can’t spend Christmas with my family it’s nice to at least have you guys.”

“That probably sounded better in his head,” Oscar teased before raising his glass too. “But he’s right, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Your cheeks warmed at the smile on his face and you were sure he felt it when he pressed a chaste kiss to one. A little frazzled, you tried to hide the effect he had on you and pointed to the mess on the floor. “Do you think we can build a sandcastle?”

“No, but I think we can build a snowman. Go put your coat on, I know you want to.”

You didn’t have to be told twice and Logan laughed as Oscar followed you to the backyard. “You two have fun, I like the heat more.”

Your breath misted as it hit the chilly air and you rushed to pull your gloves on, something you should have done before stepping outside.

“Here, let me,” Oscar offered, shoving his own in his pocket in the meantime. He took your woollen mittens and held them open for you before tightening the wrists and sealing the warmth that remained inside. “You look like a marshmallow.”

You bent down and started to collect the snow needed to make the first ball and narrowed your eyes at him when he joined you a moment later, his gloves already on. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he smirked. “Marshmallows are cute.”

“Cute?” You wrinkled your nose and gently nudged him with your shoulder. “Now that’s an insult.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “To you or the marshmallow?”

“Uh, both,” you decided with a definitive nod.

“Okay, sorry,” he apologised and then bit his bottom lip as he stared at you over the growing snowball. “Marshmallows are beautiful and my favourite thing in the whole wide world. I love marshmallows.”

“Wow, weirdo, they aren’t that great.”

Logan had been about to ask if you wanted another drink but instead he closed the kitchen window. “Marshmallows, idiots.”

“Not bad for an Aussie,” you commented as you wrapped your arms around his waist and admired the finished product. “A shame you didn’t have a carrot in your fridge.”

Oscar pushed the cucumber nose in further to stop it drooping down before hugging you tighter. “Or a spare scarf, you must be freezing.” He pulled his own off one and draped it around your neck so yours could stay on the snowman. “Ready to go back in?”

You nodded reluctantly and let him go, following him into the warmth where Logan sat in the leather recliner watching Home Alone. “Nice to see you waited for the rest of us,” Oscar noted as he dropped onto the couch and pulled you down with him.

“You know it word for word.”

“So do you.”

“I ran out of things to do,” he said with a shrug.

Everything had been seen up so you were confused by the statement. “What did you do?”

Logan didn’t answer as he tossed another handful of popcorn in his mouth before blindly pointing in your direction, but higher. You and Oscar looked up and found a small wreath hanging where a picture frame of the Albert Park F1 circuit was, woven into the greenery you spotted it - Mistletoe.

“Dude!” “Mate!”

Logan laughed to himself and kept watching the movie. “You know the rules. Kiss or streak in the snow.”

“I don’t remember it being streaking,” Oscar commented as he turned to you.

You looked at him too, your eyes drifting down to his lips. You had spent countless daydreams imagining how they would feel against yours.

“Don’t overthink it, the rule needed changing,” Logan mumbled. “So…”

“It’s really cold outside,” you murmured as you dragged your eyes back up to meet his.

“Way too cold,” he agreed with the smallest of nods. The air was pregnant with the pause before he exhaled and reached for you. His hand curled behind your nape and drew you closer, so slowly you weren't sure he was going to change his mind or thinking you would. If only he knew.

Your heart thumped loudly as you felt his breath on your skin and your hands found their way to his shoulders and ran along the thick muscles that climbed his neck. “Osc,” you whispered softly as you felt the warmth radiating off his lips but still they didn’t touch.

“Yeah?” he asked, the corners tugging up as he heard the need in your tone.

“Please...”

He pulled back just far enough to see the burning desire in your eyes and his thumb stroked your jawline. “Been waiting years for this.”

You couldn’t tell who moved first, but you both moved together, his mouth slanting over yours perfectly like they were made to complement each other. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you tasted the beer on his tongue when he slipped it between your parted lips with a deep moan.

Popcorn rained over your heads and you broke apart to glare at the very smug looking man responsible. “About fucking time! I love you, but you are both idiots.”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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whorekneecentral · 5 months

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Your Pick

Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pr!reader, a bit of an age gap (reader is mid twenties) randomness from nando's end, unspoken feelings until now, thigh riding, penetrative sex (p in v), a bit of teasing, praise kink go burrrr, creampie.

Word Count: 2,358

Author's Note: I literally only picked the middle pic for @oconso, it was for her. you’re welcome.

merry smutmas series

Fernando enlists the help of a certain someone to get his Christmas shopping done but the list is oddly familiar.

A charity event that Fernando attended every year, some sort of mission for children and their dream of being a driver. Fernando gave them an afternoon of his time, indulging them in all of their questions and stories, sharing some of his own as well.

You were, of course, right there with him. You weren't needed for this event exactly but as his press officer, you followed him. Sebastian often joked when he saw you that you were to Fernando what Britta is to him; except for the fact that you are much younger and hadn't been with Fernando for as long.

The idea was the same, you did everything for him. From making sure he gets there on time to meeting fans and signing everything he can.

At some point during the long event, Fernando asks you if you can do him a favour, handing you a piece of paper.

"I need to pick up some stuff, you can take my car. Oh and my card." He tells you, fishing the keys and his card out of his pocket to hand it over to you.

The keys to his Aston in your hand, along with the card and a list with some words scribbled along the lines, both in English and Spanish. You'd just have to figure it out along the way.

"You don't need me to stay?" You asked, looking between the list and the man. Fernando shook his head, "I'm good here. You should be done by the time I'm done here, no?"

"Probably."

"Come back when you're done, I'll wait for you."

You nodded, telling him you'd text him when you're done before you head out. The car beeps when you press the unlock button, a slick, shiny grey DBX 707 sat in the parking lot. You smiled to yourself, getting into the car and shutting the door.

The list sat on your lap, you looked over the things on the list and the places you'd get to go.

First stop on the list was Chanel; a Chanel classic with the double flap in Tiffany blue. It was stunning, Fernando had dotted down that he wanted it in the medium size. You were surprised he even knew what that meant.

His card beeped on the machine, the woman smiles as she hands the bag over to you. You carry it as you walk down the street to Christian Louboutin.

Purses, clothes and shows lined the walls, you felt like you were underdressed but the massive Chanel bag you were carrying fit you right in with the other rich people in the store.

You asked the woman for the shoes that he had written down; so Kate 120 in black, size 8.

You waited for her to bring them back. "Would you like to try them on, miss?" The woman asks, the slick box in her hands. You shook your head, "that's alright, thank you."

"Is this all?" She smiles, and you nod. The woman leads you to the front, doubling checking the sizes of the shoes and packaging it up into the brown bag.

There's one more place on the list that you've got to stop; Dior.

It's a few minutes drive from where you were, you leave the other bags in the car and head into the store. Fernando has listed that he was looking for the Miss Dior perfume. You look around a bit, stopping at the back to look at the wall of fragrances they had set up. You look closely and carefully and still you don't see the one that Fernando had wanted.

You reach for your phone, texting the man.

To Fernando: Hey, they don't have the perfume you wanted.

From Fernando: Which one was that again?

To Fernando: Miss Dior.

From Fernando: Just pick another one.

To Fernando: Any one?

From Fernando: Yeah, you have good taste. I trust your judgement.

You reply with a thumbs up and decide to look for something that you liked. It was a bit odd that Fernando sent you out like this, he did it often but never like this. He was never one to have you shop for someone who was clearly a woman. She must be important to him if he's spending so much on her.

You ended up picking out Dior Addict in place of Miss Dior. This one had the same jasmine scent with more of a vanilla undertone. You pay and take the bag from the man at the counter with a smile.

Getting back into the car, you reach over and set the bag with the others. You texted Fernando to let him know that you were on your way back, to which he replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It was a 20 minutes drive back to where he was, and once you arrived, you waited in the car for him. You were scrolling through your phone when a tap on the window startled you.

Looking over, you see Fernando. You wind down the window, "uber for Fernando ?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

You roll your eyes. "Haha," you say flatly. "Do you want to drive?" You look over at him and he shakes his head, walking around to get into the passenger seat. Fernando lifts your purse, setting it on his lap carefully.

"Where to then?" You look over at him, yet again. "Home?

"Yours," he says, looking through your purse.

"Stop that," you smack his arms, turning the key to start the engine. The car purrs in response, a sound only luxury cars have.

"Do you have gum?" He asks, still looking.

"Front pocket," you inform him, heading towards your place. It didn't strike you as odd to be heading to yours. Fernando often picked you up so you just assumed you'd get home and then he'd head out to his place.

What did strike you as odd was Fernando taking the bags out of the car and following you up the stairs to your front door. "What are you doing?" You turned, clearly confused.

"Go on, I need to come in."

"What if I don't want you to come in?" Your question made him laugh, the man shaking his head. "Just go," he tells you, knowing you're just being difficult.

You unlock the door and walk in, Fernando sets the bags in the living room and makes himself comfortable on the couch. He had been to your place before it wasn't like it was awkward or anything. You just weren't sure why he wanted to come in.

"Want some coffee?" You called from the kitchen, filling the kettle. "Tea would be nice," he calls back.

You shake your head, setting two mugs on the counter. "I didn't offer any tea."

"I'm suggesting it then." He leans over the back of the couch, smiling at you. You roll your eyes, dropping the teabag in the cup while you wait for the kettle to boil.

Finding your way over to the living room, you sit on the floor by the couch. Fernando sets the bags on the floor next to you and you assumed that he was making space for you on the couch but instead spoke; "show me what you got."

The statement left you a bit confused, he had given you a list, of course he knew what was on it but you indulged, taking the stuff out of the bags.

You have them set on the floor in front of you, Fernando watches as you show him each thing carefully, not wanting to scuff or damage them.

"Do you like them?" He asks and you nod, "I do. Just a bit confused though," you look up at the man.

"Why's that?"

"Well.. you've always been the type of guy who shops for their women themselves so it just struck me as odd that you asked me to shop and pick up.. this."

Fernando smiles, "well I was busy and she's an important person to me, perhaps the most important."

You raise an eyebrow, looking at the driver. "Ohhhh okay.. so you have a girlfriend? C'mon, tell me, tell meeeee!" You nudged his knee, propping your elbow up on the couch as you turned your attention to him.

He doesn't say anything, he just smiles at you. This time was different; it wasn't playfully or teasing, there was something sincere about the way he looked at you.

It takes you a moment but you finally speak, "what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The stuff is for you." He says and you look at him, clearly confused.

"You made me shop for my own Christmas gift? Fernando, that's.." It hits you at once, all the things he had listed were things you had mentioned to him that you liked over the last year or so.

Your hands covered your mouth, looking at him in shock. "Fernando, oh my god.. no." You shook your head, "this is too much."

"It's not," he rests his hand on yours, "you've been by my side for as long as I can remember, you do everything for me. You're the only person I trust and well.. love. You deserve this and so much more."

"It's a lot," you whisper and the man hushes you, letting you pull him into a hug. "Thank you." You whisper yet again, unsure how to repay him for his kindness; you knew you didn't have too, seeing that it was a Christmas gift but still.

Fernando's hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your skin softly. He smiles at you, wondering how he got so lucky. Not everyone gets to have someone they love in their life and he was lucky enough to find that in you.

You can't help it, it was like instinct. Shifting onto your knees when you reach up, your hand wrapping around his wrist to pull him closer, your lips on his.

A part of you thinks he's not gonna react and pretend it never happened and the other part of you expected him to push you away but he did neither.

Instead, he kissed you back.

He helps you up off the floor and onto his lap, having you settle on his lap. "Let me take care of you," he says, his hand cupping your face, finally pulling away from the kiss.

"Yeah," you lean into him once again. You stay in his lap, Fernando pushes the skirt you had on up a bit, shifting you onto his thigh.

His hands rest on your hips, rocking you on his thigh; back and forth very slowly. His head leaned back and he lifted his leg slightly. The sudden change caused you to slide forward, clit rubbing against the denim fabric under you.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

“So beautiful,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders. “So good for me.”

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds, you don’t have to be quiet, mi vida.”

Little by little, your top and bra ended up on the floor along with Fernando's shirt. Your hands ran over his shoulders, down his biceps to his forearms.

His fingers creeped up under the hem of your skirt, "I've been waiting to have you to myself."

"Why's that?" You shift a bit to look at him, an arm over his shoulders as you look at him.

“Because I’m gonna ruin all that pretty makeup," he whispers to you, pulling you for a kiss.

It only spiralled from there; hands all over each other, clothes being tugged and pulled on. You’re both impatient, wanting more than you can get too at the moment.

Fernando scoots you back on his lap, undoing his pants as your skirt gets pushed up on your hips, panties pulled to the side before you sink down onto his cock.

He bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Oh god," you mumble, thighs on either side of the man as you roll your hips, arms over his shoulders. One of your hands tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a solid tug.

Fernando tilts his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips when he feels your own lips meet his skin.

“Fuck, do that again.” He mumbles, feeling you clench around him. Soon enough he can feel your hands on his shoulders, letting you set your own pace, bouncing on his cock as your nails dug into the back of his shoulders; surely leaving behind red marks.

His own hands digging into your hips hard enough to leave behind their own marks but that was the least of your concern right now.

“Fernando,” you whimper, forehead pressed to his.

He feels you clench around him, your hips stuttering and he knows you’re close. His hand moving from your mouth to between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles over your clit and your head falls onto his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds slipping past your lips.

He rests a hand behind your neck, pulling you back slightly. “Look at me,” he tells you, kissing you softly. You both knew the other was equally as close, orgasm on the verge of happening. His hand shifted to grab your chin, pulling your focus back to him. “Look at me when you cum.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, Fernando following quickly after you.

You fall flat against him and Fernando lets you sit on top of him for a bit, his hand rubbing around your back softly, fingers tracing random patterns into your skin.

"You okay?" He whispers and you nod, sitting up a bit to look at him. "What?" He asks, seeing the look on your face.

"How did you know my sizes? You know.. for the gifts."

He smiles, kissing your shoulder. "I pay attention, you know."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 smut

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 2 months

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Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not.

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly.

You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was.

He was the best part about Las Almas.

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A…

What else?

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost.

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list.

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing.

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all.

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he?

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!”

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was.

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease.

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.”

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?”

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s.

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look.

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!”

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?”

“Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.”

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~”

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

“There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand.

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it.

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail.

“She did get hit.”

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.”

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised.

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.”

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner.

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man.

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face.

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw.

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more.

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine.

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call.

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!”

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family.

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?”

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off.

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–”

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.” “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade. “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure. What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear. “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.” Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!” The lieutenant turned around. “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.”

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost?

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did.

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?”

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon.

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile.

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back.

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it.

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life.

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was.

How fucking wrong he was.

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’

Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him.

Johnny : ‘Also’

Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’

His thumb paused right above the send key.

Fuck.

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind.

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that?

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages.

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon.

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner.

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet.

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade.

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now.

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.”

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start.

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.

“I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer.

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted.

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below.

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth.

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck.

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap.

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.”

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?”

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.”

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!”

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first.

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade.

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.”

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.”

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same.

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too? Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”.

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

"What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other.

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the faint sounds of Alejandro's guitar playing from inside of the house, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one.

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he.

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more.

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely.

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly.

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was.

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes.

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely.

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her.

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to.

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed.

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him.

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard.

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more.

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands.

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer.

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?"

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?"

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?"

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?"

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost.

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them.

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own.

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would put on that mask again.

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek.

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted.

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD.

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder.

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside.

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot.

It's too hot.

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right?

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again.

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder.

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy.

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself,

"Fuckin’ hell…"

Jade didn't melt his cold heart.

She set it on fire.

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him.

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it.

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.

There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked.

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

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ashwhowrites · 4 months

Note

Love your older Eddie!

Picturing him working somewhere with a sweet, sunshine-y younger woman. Maybe a restaurant or store? He’s got a crush on her, but she’s always getting hit on by the younger, flashier guys who work there so he never thinks he’d have a chance. To hide his feelings he’s been a standoffish grump, so he can’t believe it when she reveals she has a crush on him at the work holiday party.

Angst/fluff/smut whatever you like - I know anything you write will be amazing! Thank you ❤️

I love older Eddie! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Work crush

Working at a small restaurant that focused more on the younger crowd, wasn't the exact job Eddie pictured for himself. But after his car shop got shut down, he just needed anyway to make cash. In a way, it was like he had to start over.

He didn't enjoy how much older he was than everyone else who worked and dined there. He worked with young twenty-year-olds who needed cash throughout college and served bratty teenagers. Other than the cook, he was the oldest one there.

His older looks and charm got him good tips. Younger girls enjoyed the flirtation and teasing games. Eddie delivered that as much as he did their food.

He hated the younger guys he worked with. They were loud, annoying, and sucked at their job. Eddie had to cover their slack as they snuck out back for smoke breaks. But there was one worker that Eddie secretly adored, Y/N.

She was also young, part of a group of annoying guys. But she was polite, hard-working, and sweet. She brightened the restaurant up whenever she walked in. She made Eddie feel butterflies and he loved watching her happiness rub off on everyone. Many people requested her, she was one of the best. And she was damn beautiful. Which sadly, everyone noticed.

Eddie lost count the many times he overheard her being asked out, by customers and the employees. Eddie couldn't help but compare himself to the guys that asked her out. They were all young and looked like they'd be on the cover of a magazine. Eddie was nothing like that, he didn't stand a chance.

When she turned down Beck, even Eddie was shocked. Beck was the heartthrob of the restaurant, almost every girl signed their number with their receipts. He was tall, and fit, with blue eyes and dirty blonde curly hair. He was sweet and polite, and Eddie hated to admit he was perfect. If perfect Beck couldn't get her to say yes, Eddie knew there was no hope for him.

With that realization, he didn't tease himself with the thought. He kept his space and didn't get to know her. He knew if he learned about her, he'd fall for her even more. It was safer to not know who she was. He just admired her from afar. He smiled to himself when he heard her sweet laugh. And he tried not to punch Beck across the face when he flirted with her his whole shift.

~~~

Tonight was the holiday party and Eddie didn't plan to go. He didn't want to party with a group of kids, he felt too old for that shit. The party was at a bar, and the owner had the dumb idea of everyone wearing Christmas sweaters. Eddie didn't own anything like that and he wasn't going to spend a dime to wear the ugly thing once.

Eddie cleaned up his last few tables, the restaurant closed early for their event. He pocketed the tip, ignoring the lipstick kiss and number written on the receipt.

"Poor girl, she was probably hoping you'd call." Eddie jumped as a voice came from behind him. He quickly turned to see Y/N standing there. A teasing smile on her face.

"I think she'll be fine," Eddie said, scooting into the booth to clean the table. He watched as Y/N took a seat across from him. She silently watched as he worked. Her eyes were on his arms and hands.

"Any numbers for you today?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, but not interested." She shrugged. She patted the table, a hint for Eddie to sit down. Eddie threw the towel on the table and took a seat. He didn't want to be that rude to her face.

"Never are." He teased, she smirked and moved on.

"Are you going tonight?" Eddie tried not to roll his eyes at the question.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" He argued back

"It's a work party, you work here and you're invited." She said, pointing out the obvious.

"Nah, it would be like a dad hanging out with college kids. It's embarrassing. And I'm not wearing an ugly Christmas sweater."

"Yeah, but it would be like the hot dad you secretly want around. The kind where you go to your friend's house every weekend just to see her dad shirtless in the morning." Y/N said, a certain look in her eye. A look Eddie got from many of his customers. She was flirting....with him. "I have a bunch of my dad's old Christmas sweaters, I'll bring you one!" She stood up excitedly. Like she declared he's going.

"You think I'm hot?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help a tiny smirk that crossed his face. Everyone flirted with her, and she picked to flirt with him.

"I do and I know you'll look hot in the sweater. See you tonight." Eddie stared at her ass as she walked off.

"I'M NOT GOING!" he yelled after her. He heard her sweet laugh and the bell on the door.

~~~

Eddie groaned as he pulled up to the bar. He was two hours late. Mostly because he was debating if he was going to come or not.

He walked into the bar and scanned the room. He found a few of his coworkers scattered around. A few at the pool table, a few at the bar top, and a few in the back booth. He walked to the bar, at least he got to drink through it.

He held his drink and looked for her. He didn't want to make it obvious, but he knew he didn't care who was there, he came for her.

"EDDIE!"

Eddie turned to see a tipsy Y/N, her hands in the air as she raced into his chest. She crushed him in a hug. Eddie slowly hugged her back.

"I knew you'd come!" She said as she pulled back. She was decked out in Christmas wear. An antler headband, that he'd hate if anyone else wore it. But of course, it looked adorable. Red eyeliner and dark lashes. Her lips were red and Eddie stared at them for too long. Her Christmas sweater was full of printed-on lights. A few real lights that flickered. She had a black skirt, tights and black boots. She was glowing.

"Did you know?" Eddie teased, smiling down at her as she leaned on the bar for support.

"Of course. I knew once you found out I wanted you to come, that you would come. " She explained. She grabbed his hand, slightly tripping on her feet.

"Woah okay. Maybe you should sit." Eddie laughed, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"No! We gotta go to my car for your sweater!" She argued, she didn't move away from his touch. She loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around her and the way she could smell his cologne. "Just help me." She said and began walking.

After a few stumbles and many laughs, they made it to her car. She unlocked it and grabbed the sweater from the seat. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Eddie removed his touch from her as he grabbed the sweater.

"Put it on!" She said she looked so excited and Eddie didn't have the heart to say no. He gagged on the inside but sucked it up.

"I gotta change my shirt so let's go inside." He said but she didn't move.

"don't be silly. Just change here. I'll cover my eyes." She threw her hands over her eyes, a giggly smile on her face. She was somehow even more adorable drunk.

Eddie didn't fight on it. He took off his jacket and placed it on the top of her car. He took a deep breath, preparing for his skin to hit the cold. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and yanked it off. He let it drop to the floor as he put his arms in the sweater, as he pulled it on over his head, he heard a small squeak.

He could see Y/N's fingers split open, allowing her to see through. Eddie felt his cheeks warm at the thought of her peeking.

"Did you just squeak?" He asked, trying to hold back a smile.

"No" she mumbled, embarrassed.

"I can see that you're still peeking." Eddie laughed, she groaned and dropped her hands.

"I couldn't help it! You can't be this hot older guy that I want to ruin my life and expect me to just not stare at you." Sober her wished she'd stop talking.

"Ruin your life? That sounds like a bad thing." Eddie said confused.

"It means I have this huge crush on you. I see you flirt with those young girls and I hate that you never did it with me. I hate that everyone flirts with me, and you haven't." She pouted, she crossed her arms as she sighed sadly.

Eddie let out a small smile, moving closer. He lifted her chin with his finger and leaned down.

"I didn't flirt with you because everyone else got shot down. I didn't think I'd be different. But now that you are loose with your lips, I can admit I've been attracted to you since your first day."

Y/N felt her heart skip multiple beats. She couldn't believe the words he said, but the reality of his lips pressed against hers made her believe. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped her arms around him. Her palms were against his back as he deepened the kiss.

She wasn't sure if the alcohol or the kiss made her dizzy.

~~~

"Where the hell is Y/N? She got sat like ten minutes ago!"

"Where is Munson? His table has been waiting for the check for an hour!"

"I think we need to get back to work," Y/N whined, her hands against the door.

Eddie stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips as his cock pounded inside of her. The harder he went the more she cried. She felt her legs go weak as she tried to keep herself up.

"Not until I cum." Eddie grunted.

~~~

"Anything else I can get for you?" Y/N asked the pen smacking against the notepad. She tried not to seem annoyed with the rowdy group of male teenagers.

"You on the menu?" She tried not to roll her eyes. An unpleased look on her face.

"No, but my boyfriend serves up a delicious knuckle sandwich if you want to try it." She said with a glare.

The boy whistled, almost like her attitude made it more fun.

The second she felt the boy's hand touch her thigh, she snapped.

"EDDIE!"

Tags!

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x female reader #ashwhowrites

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postersofleon · 21 days

Text

Wrong Age For A Babysitter

It's winter break. You went to visit your parents after a long time of seeing them. To your surprise, a guy who is your age says he needs to babysit you.

content: fluff and smut

notes: afab fem!reader, mentions of drinking alcohol, reader drinks it with leon. leon and reader are in their twenties. cute sex. second point of view to not have y/n, before the events of raccoon city, no mentions of holiday just winter. non canon lore of leon; this was suppose to be published in december, but I forgot about this.

taglist: @argreion

It was the winter holiday after a long time studying for finals, you went home to your parents home to visit them. At least for a while, but unexpectedly, your parents weren't home. You took off your shoes before entering, the house was dark with very little light. "No even a voice mail." You muttered bitterly. Your eyes looked around to see what you'll respectful steal from your parents. Cookies. Hell yeah. You grabbed from the selection and took a bite. The silent house only heard were the munches of your teeth eating the cookie.

That's when you saw a note from your parents on the fridge.

Hi, we went to dinner with a couple of friends. Sorry we couldn't be with you.

Your eyes narrowed, "But couldn't call." You didn't mean to sound so damn bitter, but how much it hurt to call in. You grabbed a beer and cracked the can open. You steal more cookies from the tray, and your eyes found the thermostat and made it comfortable heat. You grabbed your beer and sat on the couch of the living room.

You attempted to find the remote, but nope. This was getting more and more annoying. You put the beer on the coffee table and put the cookies on top of the fizzy beer. Your hands patted down the couch over and over, your fingers were shoved inside the edges of the couch. You found pocket change and put in your pocket without thinking twice.

But the small lived silence stopped when you heard a knock. Your head snapped to turn to see who it could be. Was it those Christmas singers? No. There's was silence, and those people were loud. You carefully grabbed a cookie and ate a bit of it before walking towards the door.

You checked the peep hole and found a sandy blond guy in the other side. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "Hi?" He began, "Um, I'm Leon. The babysitter." He knocked again.

Maybe it was a dumb action but you opened the door immediately. "Sorry, wrong house. I'm twenty." It wouldn't make sense why your parents would send a babysitter.

Leon shook his head, "Impossible." He took off his glove and pulled out a piece of paper that read your address. You ate another piece of your cookie before looking at the paper, "You got the wrong house." You knew so. You stepped a bit out of the comfort of your home, "Over there." Leon turned to see, "My neighbors have a daughter. You are probably her babysitter."

Leon shook his head, "I don't mess up my addresses." He exhaled deeply. His eyes almost intimidated you, he looked so damn determined, and with that you felt a bit of second hand embarrassment. You took another bite of your cookie, "Can I see some ID?" You asked him with small levels of impatience. Leon automatically gave you his ID.

What a handsome guy. "Leon Scott Kennedy." You read out his information, "Happy early birthday." You smiled politely at him as you continued to look at it.

You knew your parents were careful around you, but not to give you a babysitter at your age. "Listen," You began, "You seem a nice guy, but I don't need a babysitter. I just got out of college to enjoy the winter break."

Leon sighed softly, the exhale was that looked like that fog, "Listen, I don't break my promises," His blue eyes were focused, "If your parents put me as a twenty year olds babysitter. I'll do it."

"Fuck it. Fine." You pulled away to let him enter. You were being stupid and ignore all the possible red flags of this situation. Once Leon entered, he took off his snow boots and his coat. He turned to see the living room, hoping at least there was children to actually take care of, but it was only you and him.

"Wanna a beer?" You asked him with a tiny awkward smile.

Leon didn't drink beer in his babysitting job. But what is he gonna protect you from? "Yeah, that would be nice." He sat down on the couch and looked around. It was nice and toasty. You looked at him for a second before going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer. "Here ya go." She walked back and handed it to him.

He gladly accepted it. "Appreciate it."

You sat on the other side of the couch. You needed to see why this guy was going to be your babysitter. It was dumb. You are still convinced Leon got the wrong address, but for now, you will just stayed quiet and took a drink.

Your babysitter took a drink of his own beer.

Your head leaned on the couch to see Leon properly. It was unacceptable that this guy was hot. He looked cute and lovely, and unfortunately, it wasn't enough to flirt with him. Leon turned around to see you. He had a small smile, "I'm sorry. I know I seem like a red flag." He whispered.

Without a second, you nodded your head, "Yeah, it hard to think you are... y'know... normal?"

Leon chuckled softly, "I'm going to be a cop." You snorted a laugh, "That doesn't prove anything." A gentle tease.

Leon laughed a bit louder, "I guess you are right." He took a small drink of his beer. "But I wanted to become a cop to protect people. I grew up poor with my grandma after my parents died so..." Leon brushed his hair behind his ear. "I want to be good."

"It's a noble wish." You whispered softly.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be chosen to work for Raccoon City." Leon leaned on the couch as he looked at your eyes. He swallowed, "It's... it's a nice place to start." You nodded your head as you listened to him speak; he had a lovely voice.

You two took a drink. You leaned closer to him, "It's nice." You confirmed.

Leon sighed softly, his cheeks redden from the warm place, "Listen," Leon rubbed gently his wrist, "Maybe I was... too stubborn." He couldn't even look at your eyes from the simple idea of him being wrong. Thinking his stuff more clearly, Leon sighed again, "I was wrong. Maybe you are right."

A small laugh appeared from your lips, "No way? Really?" You finished your beer and placed it between your thighs. Leon scowled, "I, I know." But he didn't seem offended by it. Immediately, he laughed softly, "I'm sorry." A small pause between you two, Leon looked down your thighs.

"Sorry." He whispered again.

Yeah, your own thoughts were infected at the idea so quickly. It was amusing that you first thought this dork wasn't worth it until his eyes traveled down at your thighs.

"It's, um," You cleared your throat, "Fine." Your hands grabbed the can of beer and put it on the coffee table. Leon's cheeks were redder before leaning completely forward. His lips were still a bit cold, but your warm lips didn't mind it. Gently, Leon got on top of you. His knees were side to side of your thighs, his lips tasted awful with the beer and the coldness. Yet it didn't stop you. Your lips moved with his, your lips gently sucked on his, and slowly, your tongue was inside of his mouth.

Leon's hands grabbed your hips against his, pulling them ever so gently. Leon's hips gently began to hump against you. You dropped the kiss, "L-leon..." You mumbled weakly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he continued to hump you.

His humps were desperately slowly in attempts to get his erection, and certainly, you began to feel the bulge. Leon looked at you shyly.

God, who is this guy looking shy after grinding against you? "Are you wet?" He asked you.

Your cheeks burned up, "Um, a bit," You admitted softly, "But, I'm..." Your eyes were finally full-on focused into Leon. His cheeks were red, his bulge continued to grind against you. What kind of one night stand is this?

"Need more?" Leon whispered softly.

You nodded. Leon nodded his head and slowly got between your legs. "May I?" Leon asked. You nodded your head, "Yeah." Leon pressed his nose against your crotch, gently licking you. You gasped very weakly. His hands grabbed your hips so gently, holding you tightly. Even though you had pants on, you could feel how his hot breath felt.

"I'm ready." You whispered softly. Leon looked up at you, "You sure?" You knew it was too fast, but it was definitely worth it already. Another nod.

Leon sat up and undid your jean's button and slid them down. His eyes were focused on your thighs and your face, darting them up and down, "I, okay." He took off his own jeans. Your cheeks burned even more when you saw his dick. Your hands covered your face, "Um, I-" You laughed nervously.

"Don't laugh at it." Leon faked a pout.

His hand gently rubbed his dick and pumped it gently, "It has feelings." Slowly, the tip brushed your clit, you chewed on your lip as it slowly went inside. "Oh, fuck..." You muttered so ever weakly. Leon groaned weakly, his hips gently pushed more and more until he was completely in. His blue eyes met yours for a second and laughed, "I, I-" His dick twitched happily, he leaned close and began to kiss you. So gently and kindly. You followed behind him. Small pecks of kisses that slowly, little by little grew.

You held him tightly, his hands caressed your cheeks, "Mm, I, I could ask you on a date..." Leon mumbled against your lips. His hips slowly began to move, small little thrusts, "I don't, I don't usually do this..." Leon groaned weakly, "In the first date-" Leon rested his head on your neck and his hips went faster.

His tongue licked your neck and bite on your skin. Trying to be quiet. You gasped weakly as you felt him enter you in and out. His hands gently grabbed your breasts through your shirt, squeezing them gently.

Another weak whine, "L-Leon..." Leon lifted your shirt and shoved his face between your breasts as he thrusted deeper and deeper. He kissed your breasts gently and sucked your nipples.

Was this really all the attempts to keep quiet? To make you feel that you'll be loud. He gently nibbled on them, he growled weakly as he thrusts went faster and faster. "I, I need to..." Leon mumbled softly.

He groaned weakly, trying to hold in his release. You pulled him away from your breasts, his lips were covered with drool- his eyes were empty. He looked so pretty. You leaned weakly towards him and kissed him. He whined weakly, "Fu-Fuck, fuck..." Leon's hands travel down your lines, holding your thighs.

You were making this harder and harder for Leon.

Leon kissed your jaw as he continued to groan. His thrusts went into a bit harsher pounding, "C'mon, c'mon..."

He needed your release more than ever.

You felt how his cock just twitched over and over. His length moved in and out, the desperation in the two of you grew. His fingers found your clit and rubbed it. He whined. He finally whined with those grunts, it was just a mix of him rubbing it over and over.

You cried weakly, "Leon!"

His thrusts turned a bit sloppier, Leon groaned louder as he focused only, only in your pleasure. Soon enough, his cum exploded inside of you. Leon cursed softly as he felt your cunt hold him, your warmth was so nice. Inviting. Leon held your face. Giving you more and more kisses around your cheeks and lips. You gasped softly, trying to catch your breath, "Leon..." You mumbled weakly.

Leon pulled out of you and his cum slide down. His heart fluttered. He should have worn a condom, but all he could do is look at your face.

Leon laughed softly again and kissed you over and over, "I'm- I'm sorry." He was even more lovable. You laughed weakly, "Stop, stop it." Leon's eyes were so bright, and it made your heart melt even more.

Your hand gently held his, sharing a small moment until you heard your parents open the door. You two attempted to fix each other up, it was fast, but the smell of sex ruined the lovely winter joy. You fixed Leon's hair, his cheeks were still red, and he was met with another kiss. "I owe you the date." Leon whispered softly. He caressed your cheek before kissing you again.

"Oh, hi," It was your dad, "Um, who is the guy?" You gently pulled away, "He's.. he's my boyfriend." Leon blushed heavily. Babysitting isn't as tough, but Leon did have to remember he accidentally forgot his job. "Um, well," Leon forced a smile, "Hi."

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re2 leon

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vqlluna · 4 months

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CLOSURE ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

summary: it's been years since you confessed your love to Remus, and he couldn't reciprocate it. It's been years since your days at Hogwarts ended, and you're now recouped back with your schoolmates for a holiday party. What could go wrong?

pairings: f!reader x remus lupin, angst, fluff,

a/n: ngl this is partly based on the beginning of my parent's little love story, and of course, this is based on closure by taylor swift (and basically the whole evermore album)

❝ IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, and seeing the shape of your name just spells out pain. It wasn't right the way it all went down, looks like you know that now... ❞

You quickly ran down the stairs of your apartment, trying your best to fit the silver hoop through your ear without harming yourself. You tripped your way into your incredibly small kitchen, shuffling at the island counter, which only was filled with months-old letters, bills, and notices, trying your best to find a specific invitation.

Mary Macdonald had been your best schoolmate during your years at Hogwarts, and despite, by now a few years, of barely speaking to her or anyone in her crowd, she'd been so kind as to invite you to a wonderfully large and fancy Christmas Party.

And it was for this very reason as to why you stood in your most expensive dress, dug out from the back of your closet. You wiped your sweaty hands on the velvet fabric before delving back into the mountain of parchment searching for the envelope that held every single piece of information you neglected to put to memory that would get you into that party.

You were desperate to spend your Holidays not stuck in your parent's home for once. But it was only once you accidentally stumbled into a large stack as every single piece of paper collapsed on the floor, that you realized who might actually be there. You carefully picked up small clumps, replacing them back on the counter as you eyed the very last one.

It was quite dusty with small water stains sprinkled and it was extremely crumpled. Your jaw clenched as you picked it up and placed it at the edge of the counter. You inhaled a large breath before snapping your head in a different direction as you finally saw the invitation in your peripheral.

You ran to your living area grabbed your purse and ran back as you gripped the envelope. As expected, you've managed to make yourself late. You waddled on over in your heels to the small entranceway and picked up your coat and wand from the coat rack.

Maybe in a moment of weakness or a flood of memories, you looked back to the dirty crinkled piece of parchment in your kitchen. It was a big party, there would barely be any chance you'd see him, you assured yourself. And in fact even if you do, you can do you best to avoid him, you planned.

You shook your head and stepped back towards the island. Gripping the envelope tightly you shoved it into the pocket of your coat.

But if by any chance you ended up speaking with him tonight, you'd surely give it back, you couldn't possibly bear the weight of that note anymore, and you surely had no use for it now.

Taking a deep sigh you adjusted the collar of your jacket, patting now your hair in the mirror before exiting your old townhome. You locked the door behind you and shoved your hands into your pockets. You squeezed the envelope inside it almost in comfort before you apparated yourself away.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know ya', right to the bone... ❞

After you found yourself apparated to an area which you knew was near your designation you crunched the snow beneath your heels as you walked, almost aimlessly, to the party. Upon seeing the large estate you felt wildly unprepared and under-dressed. Least to say it was a luxurious event.

You stumbled up the steps, nervously searching through the vast halls, filled with fishes of people, to find a pair of, wanted, familiar eyes. You found yourself in the gigantic main room, as witches and wizards conversed among themselves, grabbing the treats and drinks off the trays of staff.

You were stopped as one of the waiters offered you a truffle, interested in the beautiful dessert you picked it up and turned around as you shoved it in your face, only to accidentally bump into another figure. The woman you'd crashed into turned around, their bright red hair flashing your eyes. As you got a good look at the person your face fell.

"Oh my—Merlin! y/n is that you?" she excitedly asked, disregarding your muttered apology and quickness in trying to whip back around. You cringed and turned back around on your heel giving a fake smile.

"Lily—my Godric, hi," you breathed.

Lily slowly parted from her current conversation to partake in one with you. "Well I haven't seen you in forever! Where are you, what do you do now?" she questioned.

You wiped your sweaty palms once again on the fabric of your dress, "I, uhm, I live in Chudley now," you chuckled nervously "I'm an artist, a painter actually."

The red-headed girl looked at you in such awe, and you were certainly in disbelief as to why. "Wow y/n, have you sold much? Featured in a gallery ever?" she was completely interested. It was then that you remembered that she was always like this, but it'd been so long that you'd forgotten what it was like to have someone engaged in what you had to say.

Your smile finally picked up a bit, "Yes, actually, got my first gallery showing about a week ago, it's still up for a couple of months! But uh, regarding sales, it's enough to keep the lights on, y'know?"

"Well I think it's absolutely lovely that you're working your dream, that's really great," Lily appreciated, "I'm assuming you're trying to find Mary, come along this way, she with the rest of them!" she waved on, but your feet were planted in the ground.

You gulped down the last tiny bit of your truffle, you eyebrows knitted together as you stuttered, "The—the uhm, the rest of them?"

Lily's excitement softened at your mutters, "Oh you're still—" she said slightly surprised but she cut herself off in fear of saying something offensive, "He hasn't arrived yet," she assured, then lowering her voice in a whisper, "We're not sure if he's coming, it's around that time."

You grew a small frown, "Ah," you hummed, "He uh, well," you dug out the letter from your pocket, waving it in front of Lily as she read the senders name printed in the corner. Her lips pressed together as she nodded, giving you relief as she disregarded it and intended to act like she didn't see the letter, nor knew anything of the situation guiding you through the nets of attendees.

You took a large breath of bravery through your nose as you slowly approached the circle of very familiar faces. You first caught Marlene Mckinnon's attention, catching you in her view her eyebrows lifted as her mouth formed a small O.

Following her gaze, Sirius finally saw you, his eyes widened in utter shock as he absentmindedly nudged James beside him. Looking at the disturbance James' cheeks puffed up with air before exhaling it out. Dorcas, who stood at the other end beside Marlene watched the scene and you could see her mouth the word "shit," at everyone's upset.

How were you to approach a group of old friends who now semi-hated you but yet felt incredibly sorry for you? Instead of stressing over the others, you focussed on how Mary squealed with joy upon seeing you. She slightly waddled a run in her heels over to you as she embraced you warmly. "You came!"

You scrunched your face with a grin as you pulled back, "Of course, Mary! Needed to get out of the house anyways," you smiled, she put you at ease even while Marlene looked at you so skeptically and as James and Sirius exchanged glasses before downing the rest their glasses of champagne in their hands.

"Well if it isn't y/n y/l," Marlene smirked, it completely confused you because while the rest of her face seemed elated to see you, her eyes seemed to almost be throwing daggers at you. The rest of the women quickly warmed up to you as you entered the conversation, though James and Sirius kept almost unnervingly quiet. Above all, you noticed the absence of Peter and him.

Finally, the conversation began to smooth, the group being able to get quite a few good hearty laughs from you. Though the ends of your Hogwarts days were a touchy subject that everyone mindlessly agreed not to talk about, you all got caught up in reminiscing on events previous to it.

But it soon came to a close as Peter ran up, "I've got a surprise f'you all!" he exclaimed gripping the back of James' shoulder as he squeezed himself between the pair of men before he looked across the circle to you. He opened his mouth to say something before tightly shutting it closed.

Behind him followed another man. He was tall, dressed his best scraggly black coat, a white undershirt, and black slacks all tied together with a matching black tie. His ruffly brown hair didn't match his attire, and neither did the deep scars that lined his face, some old but some fresh and new, but either way he was undeniably beautiful.

He slowed to a stop in the small opening between Peter and Sirius as his half-lidded eyes and warm smile turned into repetitive blinking of disbelief and lips in awe.

And for a moment, the rapid growing beat of your heart, as you saw his figure coming, came to a complete stop.

And everything was deadly silent.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure... ❞

The group stood still and quiet for seconds as their eyes flickered between the two of you, itching to see the reactions. The awkwardness between everything grew to a hot before Sirius shut it down, to the relief of everyone except you.

"So who needs a drink?" he asked, and like a pounce of a tiger, everyone utters their Yups and Yes's and Count Me In's, scurrying away quickly. Mary was the last to leave, fighting with herself in her head if it was better to let you deal with it for once or keep you safe from this horror you desperately tried to stay away from.

You dipped your head down staring at your shoes trying to avoid his eyes. It was only when he cleared his throat that you snapped ur attention back up to him. "Remus," you greeted quickly with his name, flashing a fake, uncomfortable smile.

He grazed your figure with his eyes for a beat before he muttered your name, "y/n."

The air felt cold and thick against your exposed skin, your necklace and dress growing tight on your skin from hearing your name from his lips again. "How are you—"

"Cut it with the niceties Moo—Lupin," you stopped him, "You can have your letter back," you growled digging the letter back out of your pocket and shoving it in his hand, "I've gotten all of them, but this one... you need to take this one back. I don't want it," you gritted.

"Y/n, I just. You wouldn't talk to me, I needed you to know—" Remus changed, not wanting your disacceptence.

"So filling my mail with your stupid words would get us through to each other? You did all this to yourself."

"I didn't know you had—Look I'm sorry but I was scared—"

You scoffed and laughed in his face adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder, "I'm not doing this with you right now, here, after all this time. I'll send the rest of your letters over another day, K?" you ended turning around walking out of the grand room and through the halls.

Remus' heart clenched in love of hearing your laugh but hated the circumstances it was under, begging for this conversation, to clear up every single miscommunication and wrong step, he followed you out.

You crossed by the open bar finding Mary and everyone else downing drinks. You took her hands into your own, "Thanks for inviting me Mary, truly, but I best get going now," you thanked quickly, ignoring Remus behind you with his open mouth with empty words. He only flicked his eyes to the group for a fraction of a second before landing back to you, still closely following you out as you grabbed your coat at the door and exited the mansion.

❝ Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I'm fine with my spite, and my tears, and my beers, and my candles. I can feel you smoothing me over... ❞

You were halfway across the large courtyard as Remus scurried down the steps, "I loved you!" he exclaimed. You froze and a sharp breath filled your lungs as you whipped around, and you let yourself fully remember what happened for once.

It was the start of your seventh year at Hogwarts. Everyone knew something was brewing between you and Remus. The strong tension, the back-and-forth banters, subtle compliments, and executing favors with no question.

It felt like a silent agreement between you two as the flirtations grew more obvious. Every sight of him caught you winded, and every touch had you melt to the floor, when he finally kissed you, you couldn't help but feel yourself explode with your own personal fireworks. Until he pulled away.

Rumors that he started talking to someone new shattered you. Soon your heartbreak filled with rage, he'd lead you on only to crush you and leave you stranded. And where once, he helped you captain your ship, you soon found him drowned away as you frantically steered yourself into an iceberg.

Your anger so strong you couldn't even look at him, and so you left anything related to him altogether.

Because you thought you had something, only to be made to feel like you meant nothing. Your graduation day only led to more despair as Remus sought you out once again, with the courage to confess. You shut him down and locked him out. It was the loudest and yet most silent, lonely, train ride home.

You blinked back to the present, Remus and you still in the exact moment and positions. Your jaw clenched as his next words came out so softly, so slowly, like a whisper only you could hear across the courtyard. "I still love you."

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know you right to the bone. Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure. Your closure, your closure, your closure...❞

The fire in your stomach was lit again, "Don't. Moony, just don't. What was that letter? Huh?" you begged, "'I'm letting you go. I hope you're life is swell'? What was that bloody shit? Because it sure seemed to me like a let's-catch-up-like-good-old-friends type of letter! Not a I've-loved-you-after-all-these-years!" you shouted angrily stomping your way up to him.

"You didn't even try! In any of your letters! All you do is act like it's fine or give empty apologies. So please, explain now, give me a real reason for everything, but don't give me this shit."

He stared at you in worry as your bottom lip quivered, eyes glazed in gloss. "I was trying to stop loving you."

You sobbed a wolfish laugh, "Bull. Shit." you said, pushing his chest away, "You knew I was interested! You knew! So don't give me that absolute fuckery because it makes no sense!"

"I couldn't burden you with—everything—all my...problems," he whimpered, "You needed, you need someone stable. You need someone who can give you a home and family like you wanted."

You parted you lips at his confessions of insecurties, "Remus, I'm a full time artist, barely making it to keep my water on—" you tried explaining back to him.

"I saw your gallery, you know! You need someone who's going to help you show off more of your talent, not hold you back! So why haven't you found someone yet? Stop sitting around hung up on me—" he rambled on, getting angier as you tried driving him away, but bits of every sentence he said added fuel to your burning fire.

"I am not hung up on you!" you exclaimed.

"So why are you here begging me for reasons why I didn't want to be with you? Why do you have to freeze every damn time you look at me, and for Merlin's sake, why've you kept all my letters?"

Your face blackened while you glared into his eyes. And while your fear of confrontation was afraid of confronting what went down, it was the fear of confronting what still lingered. You still loved him. That's what you wrote in the only letter you ever wrote back, the letter you never sent.

And maybe that's why his letters stopped coming. When he was finally ready to let go and take his risks to have you, you neglected to accept his grasp.

❝I know I'm just a wrinkle in your past life. Staying friends would iron it out so nice. Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me. But it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary...❞

You didn't know why you did it, well you knew why you did it, but you didn't know what came of you. Because instead of pushing him away, you gripped tightly onto the collar of his white shirt, dragging and pulling him to you as you crashed your lips onto his.

And when he, very quickly, kissed you back, your hands skidded up grasping the sides of his face, his own hands pressing your back closer into him. Your lips toppled over each other fueled with passion, craning his neck down just to feel more of you.

You didn't mind that the chilly air froze your cheeks because when the snow came falling you knew it was for the two of you, hoping that it'd freeze you in this moment. You panted lightly through your nose as Remus finally pulled back from you, dashing his eyes all across your face trying to read you.

"Because I don't want you to let go, Remus," you whispered your answer back, Remus shaking his head sofly and rapidly in assurance of your words, "I'm fine with your problems, I'm fine if you can't give me a family, I'm fine if you can't give me a steady life." you scrambled tripping over your own words.

After avoiding his gaze you finally let his chases of finding your eyes catch up with you. "I don't want just a life, Rem. I wanted a life with you. You can't just try to let go of me, can't just stop loving me because you're scared of that," you scolded, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"You need to let yourself love someone, you've— you need to give me a chance so I can love you." you pressed. Your stomach fluttered as he gave you a soft kiss as your lips once more, and this time when he pulled back he kept his eyes on yours, not letting you look away. You didn't want to look away, you were hanging on waiting for him to say something, anything.

"I will."

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

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Rum, champagne and other excuses

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X fem friend!Reader

◇ Warnings: fluff, sadness, smut, anger, trope friends to lovers, cheating, Cilly is divorced and Y/n in an unhappy marriage

◇ Summary: An unhappy married Y/n spends Christmas with her friend Cillian Murphy.

◇ Note: Another wonderfulllll collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Third fic of the new "event" 'From love to Love'. Go check it! 🥺

Ding, dong. The doll bell rang, and Y/n dried her hands with the kitchen cloth, so that she could fix her styled hair and Christmas dress before rushing quickly to the door, to let the guest in. She already knew who was standing outside in the cold. She could see in her mind's eye his silhouette, wearing one of his winter coats with his face hidden by the hood and his neck covered by a rich scarf.

As she walked to the front door, a smile slowly appeared on her face at the thought of his baby blue eyes being even more bright because of the reflection of the snow in them. His eyes really were her favourite place to seek comfort in, ever since their friendship developed. After some time, they were very close friends. The young woman stopped a moment to take in the sight in the mirror, she really tried her best and she didn’t even know why, but the way her hair were styled, the dress that hugged her mature curves was amazing, just like the soft make-up she put on just made her best features stand out in a soft but lovely way. She tried her best to look wonderful.

Y/n’s hand wrapped around the door knob, twisting it before she opened it with a bright smile on her face.

“Just in time” she praised mockingly in a playful manner, opening the door wider and letting Cillian enter her house. Exchanging looks, they smiled as she offered to take his coat, hanging it on the hook. Without waiting she made her way back to the kitchen, knowing well that Cillian was more than familiar with her house. He wouldn't get lost or feel uncomfortable.

Y/n didn't wait longer than a couple minutes before the blue eyed man joined her, hands hidden in his pockets as he studied all the food prepared for them… a dish with sliced cheese catching his interest almost immediately.

“This looks amazing, Y/n” He praised with all honesty, smiling and showing off the dimples in his cheeks. As they started talking, Cillian started stealing the cheese from the topping, pretending to be innocent as she turned to reply, catching him red handed. Small, scolding yet amused smile creeping on her face involuntarily.

“Don’t worry, help yourself” she joked, earning a soft chuckle from him as he took more cheese from the dish, without worrying to upset her or ask for another clarification.

They looked at each other for a moment, both smiling slightly, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but a peaceful one… a special one, one that you can have with just a few people without feeling unease by the situation.

“Hope you’re hungry because there’s a lot to eat today” she broke the silence, giggling at her information as she showed and listed all the various options for the Christmas Eve dinner. Coming finally to the drinks by opening a cabinet of her house “So…” she started, searching “we have champagne.. and surprisingly.. rum,wine and.. beer” She listed, looking in his direction as she remained bent down. With her eyes fixed on the contents of the cabinet, she couldn't have noticed the way his eyes lazily travelled down her body, taking in everything he could before snapping quickly out of the trance, embarrassed by the urge.

“Beer sounds pretty good to me” he replied, watching her rush to the fridge to take it for him “You’re lucky this time, I went to the mall in the morning to grab a few bottles of Guiness just for you” she smiled playfully, grabbing one from the fridge to pour it carefully in the glass, tilting it to the side, and letting the liquid slide along the glass of the tumbler, creating that way a lovely foam that reached the edge of the glass. Cillian sighed with satisfaction at the sight.

”So classy” He commented with a cocked eyebrow looking at her, impressed. ”I still haven't ever met anyone that would pour Guinness better than you.” His tone of voice carried a hint of flirtiness in it, making Y/n’s cheeks turn pink.

”Hey! Don't!” She chuckled, pointing at him with a warning.

Cillian often would flirt with her purposely to make her blush, which was always an endless source of joy for him.

”Alright, alright.” He replied, lifting his arms up in surrender.

The conversation quickly took a turn on the new play that Cillian was starring in, written by Enda Walsh, their good friend that introduced Y/n to him, soon after his divorce with his previous wife.

Y/n was still sadly stuck in an unhappy marriage, her husband away from work probably busy spending Christmas with women he considered ‘hot chicks’. The women he always considered better. Prettier. Smarter.

She didn’t mind though, after wasting all the tears on the bastard that would never change, crying her heart out at night, or even at Cillian's shoulder it had become normal. Something that didn’t hurt her anymore. Their marriage was already.. dead, after years of breaking, rotting away. Y/n spent enough time grieving it.

That’s the main reason because she allowed herself to become more attached to the sweet man that was standing in her kitchen, their bond strong and pure. Their friendship was one of the main reasons she survived the worst nights.

“Is it just you and me?” Cillian asked suddenly and carefully, not wanting to upset her on that special night of the year, by addressing the situation she was in with her yet husband.

Little smile appeared on his face as she replied in a light-hearted tone, her face remaining neutral, not bothered at all by his question.

“Mhhm! Just you and me and… all this food” She added with a giggle, pointing at the counter before she started bringing everything to the living room “I made sure to prepare things that we could easily eat while sitting on the sofa, so we can watch a movie or.. just talk.” she hummed, preparing the coffee table.

The older man nodded softly, taking a seat on the soft, comfortable sofa, helping her set everything on the table before finally leaning back and relaxing too— his beer glass clicking against her own, a symbol of the beginning of their dinner.

”Cheers” He said, shooting her that cheeky smile of his. The one reaching his eyes.

Y/n rolled her eyes with a giggle.

”Cheers, Cilly.”

~~~

The evening passed smoothly, the food got eaten in less than four hours, and soon enough they were both sitting on the couch facing each other. Half a bottle of wine left from all the drinks they had. The alcohol was already working pretty well as they chatted away about everything and nothing. Cillian's eyes shone lightly, his cheeks red and lips stretched in a smile as he listened to the story.

“I was around.. seventeen when it happened” Y/n giggled, barely containing her laughter “we went out for a family lunch, I was out with my grandpa and my siblings.. in a very nice place, you know those kind of cozy places that you just see and you’re like “fuck yes, I need to go there.” We went there all together and this cute guy kept serving our table, he even stopped to talk with my grandpa” she continues, rambling about it, her eyes fixed on the ceiling “...and when we were about to leave, my grandpa moved his hand calling him over and trying to set a date between me and this guy, telling him that I thought he was cute and this kind of stuff” She giggled again, remembering that day “and he was all like “Yes, she thinks you’re cunt” she laughed harder due to the alcohol in her body before calming finally down, turning her head towards him to continue the rambling “the guy… the guy” she murmured, catching her breath while losing herself in his eyes. Cillian was resting close to her, his head on his fist as he kept listening to her without interrupting, his eyes staring at her in amazement… she was so beautiful when she looked like that, no worries, just rambling about life with pure joy in her beautiful eyes…. And he was leaning in now, his gaze shifting onto her lips, then back to her eyes, making her do the same automatically.

They both took a deep breath before Cillian closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers, their noses brushed against each other in a tender eskimo kiss. Y/n was completely frozen, barely breathing at how close they were. The warmth from his body was making her feel even more drunk. She didn't dare to make the first move, but didn't have to wait for long as Cillian's patience suddenly ran thin.

”Fuck” He whispered before grabbing the back of her head, and pulling her face towards his, their lips connecting in a hungry, needy kiss. The tension that lingered around them for years suddenly finding an outlet. Y/n’s eyes fell shut immediately, letting him kiss her for a second before she tore away, shock written all over her face. Cillian's eyes were wide open at the realisation of what he did.

”Look, I'm so sor-” He attempted to apologise, feeling badly for taking her signs wrong. ”I shouldn't have” he'd say, but out of nowhere Y/n’s hand grabbed the material of his shirt, connecting their lips again, while pushing him down onto the couch.

Her body remained pressed against his, hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt while the kiss got more passionate— her tongue slipping in his mouth, exploring it as she hummed at the taste of the beer they had earlier.

Her body started to move unconsciously, making Cillian quickly grab her hips, his head tilting to the side reciprocating the kiss, then trying to connect their lips again, without success, as she moved away, keeping him down.

Y/n broke them apart, moving slowly in a sitting position, her eyes staring at her friend’s desperate state, biting softly her bottom lip when she was his attempt. Her hands started to travel slowly down from his chest, reaching beneath his navel. With a few quick moves she managed to unbuckle it… Cillian’s breath getting heavier as she continued, now pulling them down with his help.

His pale freckled hands grabbed her hips again, sitting up before moving them down onto her smooth thighs. Brushing the skin just beneath the edge of her dress, before pulling it up carefully while looking her in the eyes, and as soon as he didn’t see any rejection in her eyes, her clothes were on the floor with his pants in less than a few seconds. He didn't waste any time, removing his shirt quickly as soon as Y/n finished unbuttoning it. The tension in his body was buzzing, making the erection in his briefs leak with precum like never before. Pulling her back down onto his lap, her clothed sex now pressing against him, making him hiss through his teeth at the sensation.

“‘M feeling like a teenager again” he breathed out through a soft chuckle, tilting his head back as soon as Y/n giggled breathless, grinding teasingly against him. “Fuck, fuck… Love—” he cursed, taking a hold of her hips to stop her movements, too excited to control himself.

Her eyes snapped back towards him, watching how his body shaked a bit and his grip tightened. “Did you….Did you just come?” Y/n asked, stunned, raising her body from his lap to look at the wet spot on Cillian’s grey undies, glancing back at his flushed and ashamed face.

The actor tried to say something but she quickly shushed him with a hungry kiss, her hand slipping inside of his underwear, before grabbing his softening cock, pumping it while leaving wet kisses on his jawline down to his neck. Nibbling and sucking down on his Adam's apple, waiting for his cock to harden again, his cum helping her movements.

The woman stopped after a couple of minutes, watching Cillian’s body shake in pleasure and overstimulation, to move his underwear down his hairy and thick thighs, giving him a small squeeze before moving her head to the side; smiling softly when Cillian moved his hands down her hips, brushing the side of her thighs, following the lines of her stretch marks… pure admiration in his piercing baby blue eyes.

A soft sigh left her mouth as she got up slightly, rubbing the pink, leaking tip of his thick member against her entrance spreading the slickness before she slowly sunk down on his rock-hard cock, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth hung open, his back arching as a low moan left his body. “Oh darling” he sighed in pleasure, holding her still so that he could get back his control and allow her to adapt at the new stretch. She hasn't had a cock inside of her for a while now and never one that thick. It felt so good, so fucking good, after the pain of stretching subsided.

Y/n’s head lolled back as she grabbed his shoulders for support, sharp nail digging into his pale skin making him groan from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

As soon as he started throwing her up and down on his shaft, the room filled up with loud moans, cries and whines that kept leaving her mouth, and which made it impossible for him to stop thrusting up to meet her halfway.

Her body kept bouncing due to the thrusts of his hips, her hands reaching behind to free her round mature breasts from the restrictions of her bra, throwing it with the other clothes on the floor, allowing him to move closer. As soon as his breath fanned over her hardened nipples, the moans increased, becoming more high pitched, before she grabbed his head pulling it into her breasts.

Without a second thought he started leaving wet kisses all over, sucking on her nipples while increasing the speed of thrusts. Y/n couldn't get enough of the muffled sounds coming from him, as she'd be able to come right there and then just because of it.

”I'm.. I'm gonna…” She tried to stutter out as the knot in her stomach tightened, her walls clenching down on his cock so tightly, that his eyes fell shut and whine ripped out of his mouth as he mouthed on the skin of her breasts.

”Fuck..” He breathed out, reaching for her clit, and rubbing quick circles on it while moving his hips faster, deepening the thrusts so much that his tip was softly nudging her cervix each time causing some pain and increasing the pleasure.

Tears fell down her cheeks as her body shook, swallowed by the biggest orgasm she's ever had in her whole thirty three year old life, her eyes rolling her eyes back as she shook further, squirting on him.

“Fuck, fuck” he cursed, letting a high pitched moan leave his mouth as he reached his own peak, shooting his load deep inside of her cunt. His baby blue eyes staring at their mixed fluids dripping down, wetting her sofa and their thighs.

Their deep breaths synchronise as they eyes locked, Y/n leaned slowly down, her bare chest pressed against his as she caught her breath. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, the alcohol caused the sudden sleepiness that flooded her.

After a couple minutes Cillian noticed it, and with a soft chuckle he carried her to the bedroom, laying by her side before he nodded off as well.

~~~

As soon as Cillian opened his eyes, his arm involuntarily reached for Y/n that was supposed to be laying next to him, but his hand met only a cold spot on the sheets. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he ran hand through his hair, feeling a little hungover after the drinking and the mind blowing sex of the night before. His mood was great even though his head hurt a little bit.

As soon as his vision became clear enough, he looked around the room, noticing Y/n pacing back and forth on the other side of the room, already fully dressed. Sitting up, he smiled.

”Merry Christmas, Darling.” Left his mouth with a thick accent, startling her.

Y/n stood in one spot, frozen with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

”Cillian..” She started off, shaking her head lightly as she hugged herself, trying to gather some confidence. He could see her defensive stance and bad mood right away, which got him worried. What happened? What did he do? Was it his fault?

”What’s wrong?” He asked, feeling uneasy, making Y/n sigh before hiding her face in her hands for a second, taking a deep breath before she straightened her back.

”Cillian, we shouldn't have done that.” She said flatly, her face twisted in that distasteful expression, her eyes not daring to meet his piercing ones.

Seeing it Cillian's heart ached a little, as he processed what she just said. ”Wait.. what? Why?” He asked in complete confusion. The good mood that he woke up in disappeared in seconds.

”Look, we just.. drank too much, okay? I'm married and.. and we're friends! Friends don't.. do that!” She stated, frustration showing clear as a day. Cillian shook his head in disbelief, not believing that his best friend was actually treating him like that.

”Do what? Fuck?” He mocked out of anger, as he jumped out of the bed, picking up clothes from the floor as he started dressing up in a rush as the humiliation flooded his mind. ”You can lie to yourself, Y/n, but I've seen how you looked at me.” His tone was harsh, a feeling of betrayal blossoming in his heart. Buckling up his belt, he turned to face her. Taking a step closer, he leaned down being eye to eye with her. ”You wanted me as much as I wanted you, but sure. Blame the fucking alcohol and be the coward that you are right now. I'm out.” He spat out in anger, feeling foolish for believing that there was something special between them. Maybe she actually... loved him back.

Before she managed to say anything back, he passed by her in the doorway without a word, leaving a path of the gorgeous scent of his cologne behind before she heard the front door slam shut.

Fuck.

~~~

Y/n’s heart was beating like crazy, hammering against her chest as she kept jogging, her eyes looking everywhere to find the short man she used to call best friend before their argument.

After that morning, they didn’t try to contact each other again, and… she deserved it. She knew well why he remained silent and didn't contact her after the bad morning they spent together. Y/n had several days to think about everything, and it didn't take long to realise that.. she panicked. Sex with Cillian was the first time she ever “cheated” on her “husband” and first sex she had for many years. Pushing him away was a knee jerk reaction that she regretted as soon as she saw the betrayal and heartbreak in his beautiful eyes.

But at this point, it was too late. At least that's what she thought, until she realised that… she wouldn’t be able to move on from him. Cillian was her home.

After spending a week crying her eyes out and telling her husband that she’s divorcing, Y/n was determined. Determined to fix what she ruined with fear and panic, and let the love of her life know what she felt for him.

The occurrences were still playing freshly in her mind, his words, her words… the look of pure sadness in his gorgeous eyes.

She was running miles when she finally spotted him, wearing the same coat he had on that night, he looked even smaller, his body all tense and closed because of the wind that was blowing around them.

“Cillian!” she screamed, running faster to catch up with him, her heartbeat now hammering in her ears “Cillian!” she repeated desperately, tears starting to cover her view, her head up and in his direction… distracting her from the street she was running on.

A root was enough to make her stumble and fall down harshly on the ground, her hands trying to prevent any damage on her face, her heart was beating too fast and her state of panic didn’t allow her to realise that the man she was calling, stopped in his tracks and was now jogging towards her with a worried look.

“Fuck, Y/n! Are you alright?” he asked, reaching for her to check if there were any injuries, helping her carefully get up “Are you hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?” he kept asking, his eyes studying her with worry. She just shook her head, hearing his voice, tears falling from her eyes as she moved closer, hugging him in desperation. More sobs and tears leaving her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she continue to repeat in a soft tone, kneeling slowly down to hug his legs devastated “I didn’t mean a single thing, Cillian—” she sobbed, not letting him speak “I fucking want you too!.. No I.. I want more than a fuck” Y/n looked quickly at him, tears covering her view again “I-I want more.. I love you” she continued, grabbing the fabric of his pants tighter “I can show you, I even left Brian for you” she added quickly, staring up at him from her kneeled position. He knew how difficult it was for her to end things with her now former husband, so it kind of made him smile.

”Y/n, get up.” He pleaded, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her onto her feet. Looking up and down again to make sure she wasn't injured from the fall.

Sighing deeply he thought for a moment about her words, eyes widening at the realisation. “You mean it?” he whispered, staring down at her with his piercing blue eyes.

The woman nodded softly, trying to not let her bottom lip tremble. “Yeah” she whispered, showing that she wasn’t actually wearing her wedding ring anymore.

A breathy laugh left Cillian’s mouth as he nodded, his hands holding her face softly to be able to kiss her.

He kept gifting her with small pecks on her lips as they kept whispering soft promises to each other of the beginning of a relationship, the promises to give the other what their previous partner didn’t want to give them, the promises of a happy life and pure, cruel honesty every time.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x actress!reader

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endlessthxxghts · 4 months

Text

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases.

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively.

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.”

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell.

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures.

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit.

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else.

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it.

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy.

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously.

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak.

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?”

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?”

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?”

“Right on the nail,” he confirms.

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink.

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table.

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to.

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?” You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?”

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break.

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back.

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that.

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him.

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked.

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you.

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance.

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha.

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back.

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says.

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it.

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again.

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out.

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?”

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you.

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.”

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it.

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts.

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.”

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans.

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands.

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“So,” he repeats.

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him.

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.”

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off.

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you.

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-”

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right?

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock.

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car.

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on.

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort.

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth.

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.”

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you.

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him.

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does.

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together.

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there.

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day.

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week.

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way.

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile.

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that.

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier.

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice.

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet.

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image.

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend.

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling.

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you.

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile.

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.”

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off.

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to.

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.”

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble.

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours.

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain.

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears.

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up.

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out. “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing.

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing. How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck.

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind. Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now.

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this.

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.”

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face him. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you.

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you.

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word.

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up.

“Frankie?” you call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could.

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away.

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago.

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?”

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises.

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular.

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core.

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers.

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you.

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content.

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure.

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.”

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length.

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily.

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are stark white in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside.

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.”

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever.

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed.

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight.

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you.

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,�� you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit.

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours.

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick.

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained.

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure.

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl.

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you.

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper.

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you.

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm.

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?”

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie.

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk.

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated.

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back.

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out.

“Yeah, cariño?”

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase.

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye.

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order.

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name.

“Hm?”

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?”

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again.

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.”

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

Text

If You Let Me, Part One

A/N: My first Joe fic! This series is based off the song "If You Let Me" by Sinead Harnett, one of my favorite songs. Really excited to post this and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: angst, kissing, mentions of alcohol and drunkenness

You pulled your coat tighter across your body as you crossed the street toward the church. It had just started to snow, uncharacteristically early for Cincinnati in November, a light dusting of flurries coating the stones as you ran up the steps.

You wish you could say being late to your brother’s wedding rehearsal was out of character for you, but you’d be lying. You had a habit of showing up fashionably (or what your mother would call embarrassingly) late to family events, partially because you couldn’t stand to be around your parents for too long without a drink in your hand, and partially because it meant a decreased chance that you’d run into Joe. He was your brother’s best friend, troublemakers attached at the hip since they could walk, so your mom invited him to every dinner, birthday party, and holiday. Thank goodness his football schedule made it difficult to say yes to any of the invitations, or you probably wouldn’t have seen your family at all this year. It wasn't a surprise that Joe was going to be your brother's best man, but it did mean you'd been dreading this weekend for the past year.

You could admit you were dragging your feet getting ready this morning, but your tardiness today, truly wasn’t your fault. On the 15-minute ride from your apartment to the church downtown, you managed to hit every red light and get stuck behind a freight train. Even on the walk from the parking lot, all of the contents of your purse spilled onto the pavement, and you lost your shoe crossing the street.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was divine intervention.

As you walked into the church, you realized it was karma.

There he stood, leaning against the door that led to the main hall, his phone in his hand. His blonde hair was shorter than the last time you’d seen him, the tan he got from being on the football field six days a week a nice contrast to his bright blue eyes. He looked nervous, uneasy, his left leg jiggling as he looked around the room before glancing back down to his phone as if he was anticipating someone's arrival, and when he made eye contact with you, he looked downright sick to his stomach.

“Hi”, the word came out as a squeak. Joe straightened up, pulling at the sleeve of his tan suit jacket. The bride, your future sister-in-law, Tiffany, insisted that the entire wedding party be in coordinating colors, tan for the groomsmen, teal for the bridesmaids. You were wearing a simple black shift dress that had been hiding in the back of your closet because you turned down your invitation to be part of the wedding party, much to your mother’s chagrin.

“You’re going to be the only member of our family not part of the wedding”, she chastised you over the phone when Tiffany told her you would be enjoying the wedding from the second row of guest seating. “How do you think this is going to make me look in front of my friends?” You realized that it did look odd that you weren’t participating in your only brother’s wedding in some capacity, but you knew the only way you were going to make it through this wedding was by clinging to the bar and staying as far away as you could from Joe Burrow.

“Um, hey.” He cleared his throat as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. You could cut the tension with a dull butter knife, that’s how little regard he had for you now.

The last time the two of you had even been in the same room together was your family’s annual Christmas Eve party, three years ago. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of eight good, long years, the man you thought you were going to marry and have a family with, after he admitted to cheating on you with some random girl he met at a bar, and you were more than drunk off of a few martinis to try to ease the pain. You stumbled, literally, across Joe on the balcony, who had stepped outside to get some fresh air and get away from the terrible Christmas karaoke.

“You are not drunk enough tonight, Mr. Burrow.” You shakily held out the bottle of champagne you had stollen from the kitchen. Joe took the mostly empty bottle from you with a grin, placing it on the ground. “I think you’re drunk enough for the both of us", he grabbed you just as you tripped over your own feet, holding you up with one of his hands, Ok, I gotcha.”

“If you can’t get stupid drunk while your mom inappropriately sings “Santa Baby” to a room of your family and friends, when can you drink?” You gestured back into the house, watching your mother scandalously shaking her hips as the instrumental blared over the speakers. You got your sense of humor and your low alcohol tolerance from her. You gripped the railing of the balcony to steady yourself, accidentally landing atop Joe’s hand. His skin felt hot and smooth, and for the second you made eye contact with him, his gaze falling from your eyes to your lips, you were pretty sure you were willing to do something stupid tonight to forget about your broken heart.

Your relationship with Joe had always been, well, nonexistent. Growing up, he and your brother were a year ahead of you in school, and they mostly wanted nothing to do with you; teenagers could be cruel, so the only time you saw Joe was in passing in the hallway between classes or when he came to your house to hang out. He was always nice to you, but in a “I have to be nice to you or my mom will kill me” kind of way. You were pretty sure he didn’t see you as anything more as an obnoxious little sister.

“So, how’s school going?” Joe quickly pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a deep breath, feeling yourself quickly sober up. “School is well, school.” You punctuated your sentence with a hiccup. The last thing you wanted to talk about was how terribly you were doing in college, and how your goal of getting into law school next year was quickly becoming a pipe dream. “School, you?”, Joe’s brow furrowed at your question as you slurred your words, “I mean, how’s school going for you?” He nodded, flashing you his perfect, pearly whites. “School’s good, football’s going well. Scouts are telling me I’m probably going first round.” He looked down at the ground, studying his sneakers like they were the most fascinating thing he’d seen all night.

“That’s amazing! Congrats!” You would later blame it on your inebriation, but not thinking, you threw your arms sloppily around Joe’s shoulders, his hands catching you low at the waist. “Uh, I-“, your mouth was dangerously close to his, and you were sure he could smell the vodka on your breath, but when you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you go, keeping you tightly pulled into his chest. You let yourself fall into his hold as the two of you brushed noses, Joe gently kissing at your bottom lip to test the waters. You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind, you had always had a crush on Joe, but it was also a line you thought you’d never cross. Any other night there would have been no question, but tonight, you were hurting, and Joe was your only source of comfort.

You grab his face with both hands, pulling him down to better meet you, your lips pressed together so hard, not a breath could escape. Joe’s large frame towered over yours as you both fought for dominance in the kiss, Joe’s tongue jutting in between your lips. You felt a warmth pool in your stomach as Joe’s hands roamed your body carelessly, eventually moving to cup your ass, gently lifting you and forcing you to stand on your toes to keep up. You were glad the heat from inside the house had fogged up the windows, preventing anyone from seeing the two of you.

“Joe, stop.” You mumbled against his mouth, trying to push him away at the chest, making him eventually break away even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. You saw the puffs of white in the air leaving his mouth as his chest heaved with each breath, his cheeks a rosy pink, lips swollen and red.

“What?” It was more like a plea than a question, his warm hand cupping your cheek as he looked at you. “What’s wrong?” You pressed your forehead against his, his arms still wrapped around you; he didn’t dare to let you go. You played with the necklace around your neck, twisting the diamond stone between your fingers. You were still wearing the necklace that your boyfriend had given you, even though the two of you were broken up. As much as you wish you were, you still weren’t over your relationship, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to lead Joe on.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my brother’s best friend.” You closed your eyes, each breath you took in reminding you of just how good Joe smelled. Your head was spinning, and not because of the drinks you’d had all evening.

“I’ve always cared about you. I know we’ve never been here before”, you knew he meant the kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.” Joe was pouring his heart out to you, and you were still hung up on the guy who cheated. You wanted him, more than anything, but it felt like you were trading one heartbreak for another, whether it came now, or further down the road. There was no way this ended well.

Seeing your wheels turning, Joe leaned in again to lock lips, and you let him kiss you, but he could feel you hesitate. You stepped back, and the look on his face was enough to make your stomach turn. “I’m sorry, Joe. I really am.” You pulled the screen door open with what little strength you had left and left him out on the balcony.

You knew it was inevitable, fate would force you to come face to face with Joe eventually, but you were really wishing it wasn’t going to be today of all days. You knew he’d be here, of course, but you were hoping you’d could sneak in after rehearsals had already started and be out before anyone saw you. You were sure he could hear your heart beating with how quiet it was in the vestibule.

“Joe, I really want to apo-“, you gripped the strap of your handbag, the leather twisting against the skin in your palm. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, or didn’t want to, as he pushed away from the door he was leaning against. “Let’s just get through today”, he edged out, letting out a sharp breath as he began to walk away from you.

“There you are!” Your mother came rushing toward the two of you, the click of her heels echoing through the hall. “Joe, you look so handsome. I was just telling your mother how proud we are of you.” She gently patted his forearm, and Joe gave her a small smile.

“And you, it’s a good thing you’re here, actually.” She immediately began to straighten out your dress and licked her thumb to wipe away mascara that settled in the creases of your under eye. “Thanks, mom, and here I thought I was going to be an inconvenience.” She rolled her eyes, as she always did at one of your quips. “Stop being dramatic, hun. One of the bridesmaids is sick with food poisoning, so we need you to step in for her. Today and during the wedding. Her dress should fit you, might be a little tight.” She sized you up, undoubtedly noticing the couple of pounds you’d put on while studying non-stop for the LSAT. “You’ll walk with Joe actually.”

You could hear the groan rumbling in Joe’s chest from where you stood. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, you muttered under your breath, but she immediately waived you off. “God forbid you actually do something to support this family. Is it really too much to ask for you to get your head out of the books for a minute and be a part of the biggest day of your brother’s life?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt an oncoming headache. “Of course, mom. I’d be happy to be a bridesmaid.”

“Perfect! Tiffany will be thrilled.” She clapped her hands together, leaving the two of you in her dust as she hustled back to the wedding party.

“Joe, I really think that we should talk.” You were waving your white flag at him, hoping he would let his guard down long enough so you could properly apologize.

“We have nothing to talk about”, he bit back at you, and you staggered, not expecting his harsh tone. “I think it’d be better for the both of us if we keep the talking to a minimum.” He ran his hands through his hair, and for the first time you saw how truly hurt he was by what happened that night, three years ago. He left you standing in the entrance before you could get out another word.

The universe really had a cruel sense of humor.

Tag-List:

@wonderlandiswhereitsatyo

@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

@zobellagio

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joey b #joey burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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leathfaic · 1 year

Text

Every year around Easter Ghost hides somewhere on the training grounds. If you find him you get half of his leave.

Soldiers all around go fucking feral, Ghost never takes any leave and there's rumours that start around Christmas of how long you'd be able to go home. Weeks probably aren't enough maybe a few months? Some are sure it's at least a full year.

Except of course no one ever finds him.

He's the Ghost and if he doesn't want to be found he isn't. He's just taking the piss, enjoying how the event has people riled up for weeks. He's not one for practical jokes, but this has him cackling.

Enter Soap, the FNG, the man who brings Ghost to his knees. They do their whole song and dance, and come Easter Ghost is hugging his boyfriend before preparing to hide.

Soap promising with a cocky smile that he'll find Ghost and they are going to use that leave for a nice holiday. Which Ghost smiles at, his sweet naive Soap, as if he's gonna hand him a win just because he loves him.

Imagine Ghost's shock when a few hours later he spots Johnny from his hiding spot. He's still high in a tree but the other man is walking directly in his direction and after a few moments he looks up.

Once Ghost is down the tree, still incredulous, but also very much in love, he asks Soap how he did it.

"Let my heart guide me, L.t." is the answer he gets which he calls out for the bloody nonsense it is.

Takes him all the way back to base to make him talk. And even then Johnny just hugs him, reaching around putting a hand in his back pocket (not unusual) and digging around (definitely unusual). Producing a small piece of technology.

"You fucking tracked me?!" his jaw nearly drops at the realisation.

"Aye, slipped it in this mornin' when we hugged."

"You little shit." is all that his brain will allow, mostly hung up on the cocky smile on Soap's face. The same as this morning.

He should be fuming. His proud record broken, he actually has to make good on the promise that so far has been all but hypothetical. Price will be in hysterics about the amount of paperwork that comes with it.

But he can't find it in him to care. He's mesmerized at Soap outplaying him. Drunk on the weird sense of pride that Johnny is so observant and skilled. Most of all he's blown away by the fact that he never even considered the possibility. It would be easy to blame hubris here, but that's not the reason no-one ever pulled a similar stunt.

No, Soap was able to do this because Ghost let him get close. Because he trusts him.

The Ghost that met Soap a few months ago would've panicked at this point. Soap had not only seen his weak spot, he clearly was also cunning enough to use it to his own advantage.

The Ghost that has been loved by Johnny for months now doesn't. Because he trusts him. And because he's proud. And because the rational part of his brain realises that any enemy agent would never have exposed their advantage for a game.

"If you ever do anything like this again-" he doesn't need to know where he wants to end that sentence, but Soap's interjection saves him the trouble "No worries, I like meself alive too."

He'll still have to be careful next year. After all he found a worthy opponent and he can't just make it too easy on him. Probably can not let Soap touch him before the game. Maybe not even the night before. Just to be safe. A fortnight should do it. But that also means a fortnight of not touching Soap...

But he can consider that later. For now he and Soap have a holiday to plan.

#this devolved from purely fun to feelings I'm sorry #anyways this is unrealistic as fuck but also gave me a serotonin so i thought i'd share #i just love the idea of soap outplaying ghost like that #and ghost unable to be mad because hes got a whole thing for soaps competence #because he really wants soap to be better than him one day #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #cod #captain john price #cod hc #sorry for the weird hc

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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“You need to.”

“Need is a strong word, soldier; I need water, food, and sleep.” He states and points at the bunny costume you’re holding. “Now, this, I don’t need to do.”

“Come on, Lt., do it for the kids!” You beg.

He looks out the window at the funfair outside. Christmas, Easter, and Halloween festivities are held yearly at the local park, and the military base is expected to contribute somehow. Things like cooking and baking for example, or helping with the construction of the rides, and assisting with the general operations, were a few of the tasks you had to undertake. Apart from the famous egg hunt, the community has organized a variety of other activities this year, including egg and spoon races, potato sack races, and pony rides.

“Why don’t you put it on then if you care so much about the kids?”

“I’m on face-painting duty.”

“Why can’t I do the face-painting?” He asks, pointing at his black-painted, camouflaged eyes.

“We talked about this, Lt.,” you say and extend the costume to him, “you were the chosen one.”

The phrase ‘the chosen one’ was an exaggerated one but, in some ways, accurate. A few days before such events, the base held a raffle to determine who would perform as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. This year’s ‘lucky’ winner happened to be Ghost. You never did that for Halloween though, since there wasn’t an official ‘mascot’ apart from the pumpkins, and according to the Captain, “you were all monsters anyway.”

“I bet Soap planned all this,” he snaps, pointing to the fair outside, “I bet he rigged the raffle and wrote my name on every single ticket: Riley, Riley, Riley, Ri-”

He stops upon hearing your long sigh. “Soap would never do something like that,” you shake your head.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, peering out the window again. “Where is he anyway?”

“He’s helping the kids at the shooting gallery,” you admit and quickly regret it.

“I’d be great at teaching kids how to aim!” he yells, raising both hands, “why does he get to do that?”

“You’d be the star of the show, Ghost!” you encourage him as you wiggle the suit. “The Easter Bunny!”

“I don’t want to be a star, soldier,” he snaps, shooing the costume away, “plus, I hate dressing up.”

“Um, Lt., sir?”

“Hm?”

“You’re wearing a mask with a skull on.” You murmur, raising your brows.

“That’s for a different reason, and you know it.” He stiffens and narrows his eyes at you.

You must come up with a solution quickly. There’s no way to persuade an grown ass man, especially a frightening one like Ghost, to dress up in a fluffy costume and cosplay as an imaginary character if he doesn’t want to.

“You can’t go outside with that cover of yours, especially on Easter,” you explain. “Now, this, on the other hand, comes with a full mask on...” You say and lift the bunny costume by the shoulders.

He groans and rolls his eyes. That’s his way of contemplating the idea.

You shrug and look at the costume. “I’d consider it a deal, to be honest.”

He looks at the costume, then back at you, takes the costume from your hands without saying a word, and goes to the toilet to get changed.

A short while later, he returns, this time in the form of a 6.5-foot-tall, fluffy, white bunny with pink ears. His hands—or rather, his paws—are hidden in the costume’s pockets, and he diverts his masked face away from you.

You swallow your laughter and nod vigorously in response.

“So, what do I do now?” he asks defensively.

“Just act like the Easter Bunny.”

His ears and whiskers wiggle as he turns to face you. “How does the Easter Bunny act, soldier?”

That’s an excellent question. See, the Easter Bunny is cheerful and quite energetic. Ghost, on the other hand... well, let’s just say he’s doing a pretty good job on Halloween at the House of Horrors.

“J-just wave at the kids, Lt.,” you shrug and hand him a basket full of Cadbury creme eggs, “and blow the occasional kiss.”

“Like this?” he asks naively and pats the mask’s buck teeth with his paw.

“Yes sir,” you reply, looking down at the floor to hide your smile, “exactly like this.”

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sc0tters · 9 months

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Owed It | Jack Hughes

summary: you’re less than happy with how things ended between you and Jack so when the Devils come to Vancouver to play you decide to give him a piece of your mind, but what happens when he has the same idea?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, face riding, use the of the word slut once, swearing.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: I sort of merged a request of some prompts for Jack and a part 2 of Misconceptions and Confrontations. Although I have left it on a cliff hanger I’m not going to make this into a full blown series which is why there hasn’t been a Masterlist made for this.

pt 1 | pt 3

To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door it was an understatement.

After your conversations died down in December you pushed him to the back of your mind. Sure it was hard at first as you missed staying up until the late hours of the night giggling as you would be on FaceTime with Jack. But when Tito moved to the Canucks within a month of things pretty much ending with Jack you didn't complain. The Quebec native was fun, sure you two hadn't done anything under your clothing yet but that didn't mean that there weren't a few shared kisses when you two got far too drunk for your own goods or after big games as your own celebration for him.

The Canucks player had come over to grab his suit jacket that had he had left after you two went to watch a movie "thanks again," he smiled as you walked him to the door.

The gesture was innocent as he placed his hand on the small of your back "don't mention it," you shook your head as you opened your front door "Jack?" Your eyes went wide as the two of you were met with the middle Hughes boy.

Jack mirror your reaction as he looked at Tito. The boys had met each other on numerous occasions when the Canadian was still with the Islanders "Beauvillier," he scowled as he sent the older boy a glare.

The creased shirt on the Canucks player was not helping your cause, because to the untrained eye it seriously looked like you were letting him out after you two spent the night together.

Tito wasn't one to be scared of Jack or most players for that matter but the look that he was receiving would have made him a dead man if looks could kill "I guess this is my queue to leave," he murmured as he gave you a side hug before the older boy scurried out of your apartment.

The Devils player was still trying to comprehend what he had just seen "what the fuck?" Jack let out an exasperated gasp as you pulled him into your apartment.

You let out a growl "keep your voice down," you grumbled as it was barely eight o'clock in the morning.

It caused the boy to scoff "so now you care about if others can hear you?" The hockey player shook his head as he placed his hands on his jean pockets.

The comment caused you to grow irritated "last time I checked you are not in the position to parent me," you shot back as your eyes went into a glare.

It pissed you off how nonchalant the boy was "you're the one who left me on read," Jack had been left hurt after you ignored his question asking if you were planning on joining Quinn for the Hughes Christmas family dinner, an event that she was always an honorary guest to.

You grabbed the orange juice from the counter that you had been drinking "you're the one who decided that you wanted to see other people," you pointed out as you waved your finger at him "and I'm not one for sharing." Your voice was a low grumble as you brought the glass to her lips.

Jacks once irritated look was now a smirk "were you jealous?" He asked as he knew you were talking about the rumours that he had gotten back with his ex girlfriend.

The reminder of what happened lit a fire beneath you "you know I actually missed you," you scoffed as you couldn't believe that you wanted to see him.

You saw why you hated him so much back then.

The devils player rubbed his hand against his jaw "I missed you too," he blurted out as he walked over to where you were in the kitchen

"Bullshit," you blurted out as you sent him a glare.

The Hughes brother placed his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer to him "come sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you." He murmured as his lips were a mere few inches from your own.

Darting your eyes from his down to his lips your voice went croaky "Jack," you mumbled as you kissed him.

Oh how you missed the feeling of those lips on yours. Weirdly enough though the the amount of hatred in it was next to nothing when compared to the first time he kissed you, dare to say it but it was almost like there was a hint of love in this kiss.

As Jack pulled away from you he caught your lower lip in between his teeth as he gave it a small tug "where's your bedroom princess?" He asked as he cocked his head.

Your furrowed your eyebrows almost like you were confused by what he was hinting at "end of the hallway," you let out a soft gasp as you realised what he was hinting to.

So like any horny girl, you locked your hand with his as you pulled him in the direction of your room "you're so eager," the hockey player teased as he reached under your baggy shirt that was clearly one of Quinn’s as he helped you out of your panties.

As you stepped out of them you couldn’t help but roll your eyes "fuck off," you warned as you shook your head.

Jacks lips turned into a pout "that's not very nice," he had this shit eating grin as he sat on your bed bringing you closer by your shirt.

With his other hand he let it trail over your slit "god Jack just," your voice was breathy as you tried to grind on the individual finger.

The boy lay down flat on your bed "come here," he motioned for you to join him on the bed.

But when you only sat next to him he wasn’t happy "up here honey," Jack tapped his lips as he hooked his hand behind your leg helping move you closer.

As you hovered above his face you couldn’t help but remember why you were so irritated "you got a lot of ner-" you were quickly cut off when Jacks tongue darted inside of you.

You never really thought that Jack was the kind of boy to be a munch but god were you wrong "right there," you groaned as his nose continued to knock your clit.

The sensations were something that you weren’t used to. Sure you had been eaten out before but never like this "fuck!" Your one had gripped at the headboard as your other locked onto his hair.

Jacks eyes never left yours “so good," you moaned as you continued to grind on his face.

His lips moved with a pop as he replaced it with his fingers "you like this don't you?" He asked in a teasing tone.

You nodded as you watched him move back to his original position "yes Jack," you repeated your words as he kissed your clit "fuck yeah I do," your voice was broken as you tried to remain calm.

The smirk on his face was clear and you had to break him "this is what you've been missing out on," your comment drew a moan from his lips.

Playing with fire seemed to be your forte "what Tito had been getting whenever he wanted." You cooed as you forced him by his hair to make him look at you.

You got your wish of pissing him off "off," Jack tapped your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from your clit.

The build to your high was quick to become unraveled "wha-" you grew surprised.

He repeated his words "get off.”

Not wanting to piss him off you listened "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll forget that guys name." Jack warned as he sat up to kiss your lips.

You loved the way that you could taste yourself on his lips "you want me to forget Tito?" You asked making sure that you put more effort into the boys name.

It caused Jacks eyes to grow dark "see that you've still got that mouth on you," he murmured as he ran his thumb over your lower lip.

Nodding with a smirk "would never lose it for you," you explained as the boy pulled your top over your head.

Jack let out this guttural groan "missed these," he reached out to cup your bare breasts.

It drew a giggle from your lips "just my boobs?" You asked as the hockey player got up.

The boy tucked your hair behind your ear "missed all of you," he placed a kiss on your lips.

You watched as he grabbed a condom from his jeans "you knew what was gonna happen didn't you?" A scoff fell from your lips as he nodded.

He smirked as he pulled his shirt off of his head "cause my baby is my cock hungry slut," Jack rolled the condom over his cock “want you on all fours," he added as he motioned for you to flip over.

Your lips form a pout "got a thing for not seeing my face?" You teased as you let out a giggle.

Jack was surprised that you made that comment no matter how playful your voice was "thought you didn't want me to see your face when you came.” He explained as he pulled you closer now deciding that missionary was going to be the preferred position.

His cock teased your clit before he thrusted inside of you “you gonna be a good girl and take it for me?” Jack asked as his thumbs teased your breasts.

The moan you released was your worst enemy “not a big challenge,” you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.

They seemed to egg Jack on as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. It gave him access to fuck you in a much deeper angle “you liking that don’t you?” He smiled when your face scrunched up as his hand went to your clit.

You wanted to reach up to hit him but as he increased his pace it caused your hand to land on your boob “god,” you groaned letting your fingers tease the nipple.

Jack loved the way that you were so responsive to his actions. Sure other girls had been like that in bed with him before but this all felt different.

The girl that he had been pining over since he was a kid. Yes you thought he hated you but of course your mothers were right, Jack had liked you from the moment he saw you on that swing. The reason why he pulled you off of it? That’s simply because you weren’t listening to him.

You let out a moan “you’re so good Jacky,” you cried out as you made grabby hands at him.

It might have been a childish gesture but you missed the feeling of his lips on yours “my little girl wants a kiss?” He asked as he let his lips hover above yours. The angle that he was now thrusting into caused him to be best friends with your g-spot.

Given the new level of pleasure that you were felling all you could do was nod. And luckily for you Jack wasn’t in the mood to tease you. So his lips went on yours as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he wanted to feel the feeling of his tongue fighting with yours.

When you let out a moan you granted his wish. Jack swore that the moment forced your head into the mattress that he loved you. Seeing you in the position that you were in made him feel like he was on cloud nine “I’m gonna come,” you announced as the boys motions on your clit quickly sped up.

He wanted you to see reach your high first because Jack was literally seconds behind you “go on my pretty girl.” The hockey player smiled as he kissed your neck.

It was crazy how that little moment caused your orgasm to not only come but also it hit you like a truck.

You repeated a string of “oh my gosh” as your pussy almost suffocated his cock “this pussy was made for me fuck,” Jack cursed as his high was met shortly after yours was.

The boy let out a soft laugh as he took in your sensitive state, it was like that simply didn’t change from the previous time you two spent together.

As he slid out of you your body shuddered “sorry honey,” he apologised as he hook his fingers under your jaw so that he could place a peck on your lips.

But when your phone went off you two each looked at the other with wide eyes.

Quinn x: I’ll be up in three minutes

Quinn x: Got you breakfast.

Sure you shouldn’t have been surprised by this, it was your tradition before every home game “fuck,” you groaned as you quickly got up.

You didn’t seem to care that your legs felt like jelly as you quickly tried to get ready “what?” Jack asked as he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the messages.

You didn’t get a chance to answer his question when you heard the front door open “I’m here!” Quinn called out as he shut the door behind him.

You and Jack were now truly fucked.

#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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