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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

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light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers.

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door.

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this.

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door.

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up.

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it.

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety.

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement.

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care.

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves.

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone.

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you.

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are.

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh.

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex?

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours.

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly.

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now.

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it.

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt.

"Goodnight," he whispers back.

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that.

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It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache.

But you’re just friends.

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away.

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep.

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt.

Friends.

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer.

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips.

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away.

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words.

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing.

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words.

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you.

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment.

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again.

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses.

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck.

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there.

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later.

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you.

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you.

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum.

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs.

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans.

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want.

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close.

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course.

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty.

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway.

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently.

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt.

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about.

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further.

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway.

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know.

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words.

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you.

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation.

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way.

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut.

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating.

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation.

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit.

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes.

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet.

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb.

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing.

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter.

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck.

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you.

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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rafecameroninterlude · 1 month

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: ❝the summer’s hot, and i’ve been waiting for you all this time.❞ — rafe finally comes back home from his two-month long family vacation, surprising you in the middle of the night.

warnings: established relationship, ward overhears you and rafe on the phone, dry humping, heavy petting, oral (f receiving), face sitting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

a/n: it literally makes me so happy when i see the feedback you guys give me, especially when you show your support by reblogging or simply liking. i love and appreciate every single one of you <333 series masterlist

“you’re actually lying.” tears were already forming in your eyes as rafe spoke on the other line. “i wish i was, baby. we were supposed to fly back in this morning but some weather shit got in the way, so we’re kinda stuck here until they let us know when there’s another flight available.” you sighed, trying your best to keep your voice from shaking. “have you asked the airport people already?” there was a slight pause before rafe answered.

“they said it could be weeks since the hurricanes here get pretty crazy.” weeks?! you thought you could die right now. “i’m so mad my parents didn’t let me go.” the tears were falling now. you and rafe had never been apart for this long. with all the built up anticipation, you couldn’t help but get youreself excited and hopeful about seeing him today, just for all of it to come crashing down with a single phone call. “i wish you were here too, babe. i got you a bunch of stuff from the shopping centers here, i think you’ll love it.” you wanted to cry harder because of how sweet he was.

“aww, you didn’t have to do that for me, baby.” you cooed, your heart fluttering in your chest when you heard the smile in his voice. “at least you’re going on winter vacation with me.” you nodded, trying to stay as positive as you can. “that’s true. i can’t help but to think my parents are trying to torture me or something,” you laughed, “they heard the words ‘shared hotel room’ and freaked out.” rafe shook his head even though you couldn’t see him. “they did, right?” he glanced at the tv, the weather report still the same.

“yeah, but rightfully so i guess. could you imagine if we shared a room for two months?” you bit your lip at the idea. “it’s a good thing we didn’t tell them that we’d have a whole cabin to ourselves in december.” you shut your eyes for a moment, wishing so bad that you could speed up the time. “you need to come back to me already. i’m sad and horny.” rafe snorted at your words. “hey, at least we know we could have amazing phone sex.” before you could respond, you heard what sounded like ward in the background.

“come on, rafe. seriously man?” you gasped, shooting up from your bed. “rafe! i thought you were somehwere private!” your cheeks were on fire with how hard you were blushing right now. “tell ward i said hi.” rafe did as you asked, a muffled ‘hey, sweetheart.’ sounding on the other line. “wheezie and sarah there?” as if you could be anymore mortified right now. “nah, they went to a gift shop with rose.” thank, god. “well, i told lia that i’d go with her to the beach for a little, so i better start getting ready.” you put him on speaker, opening your drawer that had all your bikini’s in it.

“all right, i’m gonna let you go babe,” rafe sighed, “i’ll update you as soon as i find something out.” you chose a top, and grabbed a pair of jean shorts as you started changing. “okay. i’ll see you soon, love you.” you smiled when he kissed the mic. “i love you more, i’ll talk to you later.” you hung up, feeling slightly better after hearing his voice. it didn’t take you long to pack your beach tote, lia picking you up soon after.

you spent the rest of the day with your friend, both of you taking pictures and reading your books. “wanna stay the night at mine? i could really go for some pizza right now.” lia pouted as she pulled into your driveway. “i wish. i have to go to breakfast with my family tomorrow.” she put the car in park, looking at you apologetically. “oh, that’s right! it’s okay, hang tomorrow afterwards?” you grabbed your bag from the backseat. “for sure. i’ll call you when i get home.” she nodded, in which you waved. “hey! send me the pictures we took!” you shouted as she rode off.

“hey, guys,” you greeted your parents as you closed the front door behind you. they were curled up on the couch watching a movie. “hey!” your mom whispered, not wanting to wake your father who was resting his head on her lap. they always looked so cute together. “i’m gonna go shower. goodnight.” you walked past them, eagerly waiting to check your phone to see if you had any messages from rafe.

[2:32 PM] loml <3: still the same bs. i’ll try to call you again tonight

you gasped at the timestamp. that was hours ago. it was about ten o’clock now, and you were definitely feeling the effects of your activities today.

[10:02 PM] y/n: superrr sleepy rn, i’ll still answer if you call bb

you waited until the message delivered and quickly got in the shower. after washing your hair and rinsing yourself off, you changed into an oversized t-shirt and called it a night. you don’t know how long you’d been asleep for, but your eyes were fluttering open as you felt your bed dip beside you.

your heart dropped when you saw a dark figure looming over you, a loud gasp escaping your lips. before you could scream, a large hand covered your mouth. your eyes widening as you starting hitting the person against their chest. “baby, it’s me! it’s me!” you stopped as soon as you heard his voice, rafe’s hand slowly moving away from your face. “what the hell!” you whispered, immediately throwing your arms around him. “how are you here right now?” you reached over, turning on the small lamp on your nightstand.

the soft light barely did anything to illuminate the space, but your heart skipped a beat once you could make out his features. you stared at each other for a few moments before he took your lips into a searing kiss. “fuck, i missed you so much.” he leaned all his body weight on top of you, the feeling nearly bringing you to tears. “two months, rafe. never again.” you scolded him, letting him settle between your thighs. “my dad pulled some strings and we were able to come back today. just landed like an hour ago.” he could barely talk as he kissed you inbetween his words.

the reality of the situation made you stop, your body freezing underneath him. “what?” he looked at you confused. “my parents are here! how did you even get in?” you scrambled to get up, locking your door before you could get caught. when you turned around, rafe was laying flat on your mattress, a sliver of skin poking out from under his t-shirt. “my key. they were knocked out cold on the couch, so i just snuck up here.” he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes falling to your bare thighs. “you wearing anything underneath that?” you smiled before shaking your head and lifting up the hem of your shirt teasingly. “no.” rafe’s gaze darkened as he watched you straddle him.

“why?” his hands ran up your thighs, squeezing the flesh before they settled on your hips. you shrugged. “just wanted to be ready for you.” rafe could already feel his cock hardening with your words alone. “yeah?” he dragged your hips against his, your naked cunt rubbing against his shorts. “fuck,” you whimpered, letting your head fall to the side as you balanced yourself on your palms. “i missed hearing that. missed seeing you like this.” he took the shirt off of you, marveling at the sight of your bare figure on top of him.

“i want you to get yourself off on me,” rafe splayed a hand over your stomach, “wanna watch you move.” you grabbed his hand, placing his middle and ring fingers in your mouth, your hips grinding against him. “you’re so fucking perfect, ‘don’t know how i made it two months without you.” you moaned, sucking his digits while you started a steady rhythm. you knew you were overly sensitive because of how long it’d been without him here, but you couldn’t help the aftershocks that came with your clit rubbing against his hard on.

rafe groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last too long like this. while he spewed out the most filthy things you’ve ever heard, you sped up, desperate to reach the high you were so close to. rafe screwed his eyes shut, stopping you just before he could cum in his shorts. the sound of both of you trying to catch your breaths filtered throughout your room as you blinked down at him. “i was so close,” you pouted, clenching around nothing. “ride my face.” your eyes widened. “what?” rafe grabbed you by your waist, a yelp leaving your lips as he held you above his mouth.

you shuddered when you felt his breath fanning against the inside of your thighs. “are you su- fuck!” you cried when you felt his tongue where you ached for him the most. “oh my god, rafe,” he was quick to interwine his fingers with yours, holding you tightly so you couldn’t move away. this was new for both of you, but rafe was quickly realizing that watching you with your jaw slacked and greedily chasing his tongue with your hips was becoming his new favorite view.

he moaned against your soaked cunt, the slight vibration making your eyes roll back. “r-rafe!” your hips stuttered as you felt the sweet release of pure euphoria wash over you. rafe held you tighter against him, his tongue attacking your clit as you shook uncontrollably. two months of phone sex could never compare to the real thing, your breaths becoming labored as rafe laid you down. “i’m gonna fuck you senseless.” rafe kissed you, your wetness still on his lips as he did so. just as you pulled away, a knock sounded from your bedroom door.

“y/n, is everything okay honey?” your eyes widened as rafe took the opportunity to roll one of your nipples between his fingers, your face burying in his chest to muffle the moan that left your mouth. “i-i’m okay! just.. cramps!” rafe trailed sloppy kisses across your neck, smiling against your skin as you struggled to formulate a single sentence. “aw i hope you feel better, call me if you need anything, love.” you waited until her footsteps receeded down the hallway before you smacked rafe playfully. “you’re terrible!” you laughed.

he took off his shirt, his muscles on full display as he discarded his shorts. fuck, he was glorious. “yeah, but you love me.” you smiled as he slotted himself between your legs, shivering once you felt his cock sit between your folds. “i do love you.” rafe ran his fingers through your hair, caging you between his arms as he slid into you, a moan sounding from both your mouths. you stretched around him so deliciously, rafe’s head resting in the crook of your neck.

“is that my favorite body wash?” he looked up, pecking your jaw when you nodded. “something told me to use it tonight.” your eyes fluttered shut when rafe pulled out, pushing back into you as he hooked your thigh around his waist. “this is all i could think about over there,” he sighed, “i just wanted to feel this perfect pussy squeezing around me.” you mewled at his words, your nails digging into his shoulders. “did you think about me, baby?”

you nodded, your back arching into his chest. “fuck, yes. i missed having you on top of me, ‘missed taking your cock.” he groaned, lightly wrapping a hand around your neck as his pace sped up. rafe adjusted you so your head was resting on top of his arm as he kissed you roughly. his thrusts were unforgiving, soon the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your room. with the way the head of his cock was stroking that soft spot inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care if you were being too loud. you started meeting his thrusts, your clit meeting his pubic bone.

“you’re doing so fucking good for me.” he panted, his breath fanning your cheeks. you wrapped your arms around his neck, crying out into his skin. “don’t stop!” he covered your mouth, shushing you as he fucked into you relentlessly. “i got you, baby. ‘gonna fill up this pretty cunt with my cum.” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you felt your second orgasm nearing. with a couple more thrusts, you found yourself falling over the edge, your climax hitting you in waves of pure ecstasy. “oh, fuck,” rafe’s jaw was clenched as he suppressed the groan that threatened to rip itself from his throat.

you reveled in the feeling of his seed spilling into you, his eyebrows knitting in pleasure as he continued to move sloppily. “fuck, i don’t think i ever came that hard before.” he removed his hand, allowing you to take a full breath. you sighed, curling into your boyfriend as he plopped down beside you. “i missed this the most.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing shapes into your side. you smiled softly, draping an arm across his torso. “i could fall asleep like this..” rafe’s voice was hoarse, both of you yawning at the same time.

“me too,” you started, “i’m gonna go grab some water real quick, i’ll be right back.” he pulled you down for another kiss before letting you get up. you poked your head outside your door, slipping on a shirt and a pair of underwear before slipping out. you tiptoed down the stairs, walking into the kitchen where your mother sat with her laptop. “oh-” you smiled awkwardly, getting two water bottles out of the fridge. your mom looked up at you from her spot at the kitchen island.

“i take it that rafe is back from vacation? you’re lucky i left the volume up on the tv.”

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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

Note

first off— I LOVE UR WORK!! i think i just went thru and read everything you have for one piece LOL. second!!! i saw hc / drabble request open !! i have a silly idea that i feel like you can make come into reality.

recently i’ve been watching isekai’s so…imagine. reader getting isekai-d into the one piece world!!! (more specifically, interactions with the cross guild!!!)

A/n: Thank you very much nonnie!! I really appreciate you taking the time to read my stuff. Please enjoy this <3

Getting Isekai'd Into Cross Guild!

Rating: SFW

Relationship: Cross Guild x Reader

Notes: GN!Reader, a bit crack, short and sweet. No relationship is defined so you can assume it to be platonic or romantic <3.

The wonderful Truck-kun granted your wish of getting isekai’d by sending you straight to the One Piece world! How wonderful!

Except, you quite literally fell on top of Buggy just as he was trying to argue his case to Crocodile and Mihawk.

Now, they have no clue what the hell just happened but Mihawk already agrees with whatever that just was.

Buggy is about to scream over the fact you just fell on top of him and Crocodile is wondering how you managed to get here.

Crocodile assumes a Devil Fruit, Mihawk assumes you snuck in, and Buggy assumes you’re the devil.

It takes a moment for things to settle down as they demand you tell them what you’re doing here. You explain that well… uh… you’re not really from here.

Crocodile almost plans to kill you right away because he doesn’t have time for stupidity like that, but you show whatever you have on hand to prove otherwise.

They’re all immediately entranced by your phone, but they have something they’re also interested in too.

Crocodile: Your credit cards and money. When you explain how a credit/debit card functions he’s amazed. Tempted to start a bank and overhaul the current financial system. Also loves the excel spreadsheets. The fact this “machine” will calculate all of this for you and put it in a neat list… well… mark him down as interested.

Buggy: The shiny games on your phone that are colorful and fun. The fact he can “Google” anything and look up new material.

Mihawk: EReaders and, this will sound hilarious, but text messaging. He doesn’t care to talk, but he thinks that sending texts would be so much more effective and efficient than having to haul himself around the sea or, god forbid, answer a phone call.

Okay so you did manage to prove you’re not from this world (or that perhaps you were an alien freak but that’s okay) and Crocodile and Mihawk are pretty much entertained. That’s it. You can go. Bother someone else.

Buggy however, holds you close and pouts. “Can we keep them? Can we keep them pleeeeeeeease???” He begs as if you’re a little puppy.

Crocodile is against this but Mihawk shrugs and agrees. Whatever. This could be interesting.

Buggy still doesn’t understand you’re not some circus animal and rambles about what he should have you wear and perform for his show while Crocodile cuts him off.

Frankly, if you’re telling the truth and have nowhere else to go, you gotta earn your keep. Crocodile just makes a new position for you that shouldn’t be too hard after you said you have 0 combat skills or training.

You’re basically just their assistant and do menial work that no one else really wants to do. For now at least.

Buggy is actually… kinda happy you’re so nice to him? He’s used to either worship from his crewmates or abuse from Mihawk and Crocodile, so you quickly become his new favorite person. He’s pretty shocked you’re as nice as you are considering how crappy this situation is, but he’s grateful. Softens up to you right away and loves having your attention.

Buggy likes to do silly tricks to make you laugh whenever he can, mostly as a way to be the “flashiest” guy in your eyes. He really doesn’t like when others try to take you or away or interrupt his time with you, since he’s a brat and finds you entertaining.

Crocodile and Mihawk are tougher nuts to crack. Neither of them trust people, but they find you interesting, even though you are incredibly weak compared to others.

Crocodile always tries to see what you may/may not know about him since you made a few offhand comments that were a bit too… knowledgeable… so he often tries to get you to slip up more or confess to something. He hopes to see if you know something useful that can be used (but also deep down is afraid you know too much).

Mihawk on the other hand finds you amusing. Plenty of things are similar to your world, but it’s quite clear you’re not used to many aspects of this one. He forms a habit of just watching you or actively messing with you to see your reaction. It’s a bit funny to him, admittedly.

Of the two, Mihawk is the first to somewhat let his guard down and be a bit protective of you. He figures even if you were hypothetically “dangerous”, he could easily kill you so what does he care? You do your job, you’re entertaining, and you don’t give him a headache.

Crocodile only lets up when you “prove” time and time again that you are reliable and not trying to go after them or sabotage them. He does think it’s a bit weird you’re eager to help them, considering what they do and what you know, but hey, who is he to complain?

To sum it up: Crocodile cares the most about you being isekai’d, Buggy cares the least (except when it comes to his perception. He wonders if he’s also got a following there).

Buggy likes showing off his new tricks or discussing silly hypotheticals with you.

Crocodile likes when your eyes grow wide whenever he drops an expensive item on your desk as a token of his appreciation to you.

Mihawk likes when you talk him to normally and share deep discussions with him.

It is a bit strange that there’s some “normal” person with these three villains, but you’ve become important to them. You’re unique and special, practically one of a kind in this zany world. They show their feelings towards you in different ways, but the way they’ve grown attached to you and try to protect you show that you’re valued in their life.

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #sir crocodile #one piece hcs #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #cross guild #cross guild x reader

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hobvitr · 11 months

Text

pavitr prabhakar x reader

gn! reader.

genre/warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, stabilized relationship, reader has anxiety, mention of wounds, blood, just a lil blurb

sinopses: you discover you boyfriend is spiderman, but just because he has nowhere to go to treat his wounds.

what else to do on a tuesday night instead of sketch some stuff and finish your homework, right? your boyfriend occupied for god knows how long due to his "grown up" responsibilities who you wouldn't even question too much, knowing he as well might have his privacy and you trust him blindly.

you draw stern lines with your pencil above the paper, headphones on and you hum along some of your favorite songs. a light thud catches your attention, looking up from the paper to look at your right... nothing. then your left..

"what the- WHAT THE FUCK?" your voice comes out first at a normal volume, then coming more like a whisper-yell as you look at pavitr entering your room through your window. but the problem is, you live in a building at the sixth floor, and he's using a spiderman suit.

"hey babe" he starts with a slight smile, holding his mask in one hand and the other pressing firmly at his side, blood coming out of the wound. "I'm sorry to bother you-"

"pav you're bleeding, what happened?!" you frown, worried sick as you come closer to him to help him hold the wound, not even processing he's literally Spiderman. you scold him to sit on your bed, a hiss coming out of his lips. "wait here, I'm getting a aid kit"

you don't even wait for his response, running to the bathroom and getting everything that you needed. as you got back into your room, you could hear your heartbeat fastening with worry, breath hitching and fingers trembling holding the gauze as you kneel in front of him.

pavitr could read your body language and even sense the unhealthy amount of anxiety you were experiencing right now. "hey- hey, look at me" he placed his unbloodied hand on your cheek, making you look at his face. "it's okay, i'm okay... it'll be fine" his voice coming out soothing and making you stead your breath. "thank you for helping me, hot stuff" the nickname made you let out a brief laugh, being able to concentrate on doing the best bandage you could.

the second you were done with the bandage, you clean the other small cuts he had on his face and arms. you let out a sigh once you're done with the cleaning, looking at his eyes now. "I can't believe you addressed being spiderman as 'grown up responsibilities', really" you said casually, not yet being able to assimilate who your boyfriend was.

"it was the best i could come up with" he said with a chuckle, patting his side at the bed so you could sit up with him instead of kneeling on the ground. "you do sound a bit unimpressed" he leans back a little, his hands back on the bed for support.

"sorry, didn't have the time to freak out about you being a hero, was kinda busy with you dying from bleeding out" you said in a teasing manner, now analysing him in his suit. "that explains so much, actually... that's why i always found spiderman so attractive" you kept teasing him, now with a grin.

"so you have a crush on spiderman and didn't tell me?!" pav said faking offense laying his hand on his chest after a laugh burst out of him, arms coming to hold both your sides in a warm hug. you hug him back, careful with his wounds. "you know i'm gonna worry about you like, three times more, right?" you say, head buried on his neck, taking in his fresh scent.

"i know, but now i'll be three times more careful to come back unharmed to you" you could feel him smiling against your head. he leaned slightly back, making you look at his eyes, which was looking directly at your lips. you let out a small chuckle and kissed him slowly and softly, making him smile in the process.

as you remember you actually need to breathe, you reluctantly pull off, making pav whine jokingly. "nooo, i need more kisses from my sunshine to get better faster" you giggle, mumbling a 'good point' against his lips and taking his request, cuddling with him for the rest of the night.

#pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman india #gn!reader #fem!reader

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lanawinterscigarettes · 5 months

Note

Can I ask for Natasha x reader where one of them calls the other one by their real name and the other one freaks out because they usually call them by petnames? Thanks!

Of course! I always love fics based off this idea 💞 this is kind of angsty because I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff alright 😭 also Малыш is supposed to mean baby in Russian, but I honestly have no idea how accurate that is

Terms of Endearment (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: mentions of insecurity/self depreciating thoughts, not really hurt/comfort but also kind of?? Idk

You and your girlfriend Natasha had always been fond of using petnames for each other, often more so than your actual names themselves. Whether it be honey, sweetheart, darling, or simply just babe, you never ran out of cutesy names to call each other. But as much as you loved hearing the never ending abundance of pet names roll off Natasha's tongue, what you didn't love was how often you got teased for it.

You knew the other members of the team didn't mean anything by it and would stop if they knew how much it upset you, but the problem was you didn't really have a good reason for feeling that way. It seemed silly just thinking about it, childish even. So you kept your mouth shut, laughing along at their meaningless jokes as you made yourself a promise to cut down on the cheesy nicknames.

You hoped Natasha wouldn't notice the lack endearing terms on your part, but she did, of course. She always noticed the small things nobody else picked up on. It came with the job description of being an assassin.

Although she'd noticed it, she couldn't understand why there was a sudden change in your behavior, especially when she knew how much you loved the petnames you had for each other.

Because of this, she cut down on the petnames, too, and only used them when you were alone, hoping maybe she could solve the problem that way, even if she didn't know what it was.

It all came it a head one day when you were cooking together. It was just the two of you, everyone else either busy or in another part of the Avengers base.

Natasha was standing by the stove, making some sort of soup. "Малыш, could you hand me the salt?" She asked after tasting it and realizing it needed something.

The way you tensed up at the name she used for you did not fly past her, and it caused her to let out a small sigh. "Are you okay? You haven't been using nearly as many petnames for me as you used to, and I've noticed whenever I use them you seem... upset. Even when we're alone."

You let out a sigh yourself, knowing it wouldn't do you any good to lie about it. "I... I was hoping you wouldn't notice." You began meekly, looking down.

Natasha had a slight frown on her face as she turned towards you fully. "And why is that?" Her tone was gentle, but firm. It was clear she wasn't going to let you leave without some sort of explanation.

"It- its not you. Or me. Its the others," you confess quietly. "I didn't really like the way they teased me whenever I called you honey or babe, so I stopped all together."

She nodded her head, the pieces suddenly falling into place. "Ah, so that's why. At first, I thought I'd done something to tick you off." She joked, it making her heart warm to hear the laugh that came from you after.

"No, it wasn't that, and even if it was, you know I could never stay mad at you." You said playfully, finally handing her the salt.

She took it from you and added some to the pot on the stove before speaking again. "I'll talk to everybody, and tell them to lay off on the teasing, that way you won't have to worry about it anymore."

You gave her a loving smile, your tone filled with gratitude. "Thanks, hon."

She smiled back at the petname before giving you a soft kiss. "Of course, darling. Anything for you."

Likes < reblogs | PLEASE REBLOG if you like what you read

Main masterlist | MCU masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @gilmore-angel @xxromanoffxx @your-next-daydream @whistle1whistle @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @truthindreams @the-nightowl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel fic #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #mcu fic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fic

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

need to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader summary: Things aren't as easy when you both get back to base. Especially trying to keep a professional distance, worsened when you get hurt. an: can be read as a standalone, but does follow had to see you really freaking well :) word count: 4.7k

simon ghost riley masterlist

Keep your distance.

That’s what you keep telling yourself. Reminding yourself. More so because your eyes keep landing on him—Ghost.

But then, how could you not? How could you even be expected not to?

This secret. The one forged through sweat, sex and showers has to be guarded and protected—even in the moments when every fibre of your being desperately screams out for him. Each time he raises his hand to adjust his gloves, you’re sure you clench your thighs—the same way you do each time he gives you a look. A certain kind of look. One so reminiscent of a time when you’d said you couldn’t come again, and he told you that you could.

Good girl.

Keeping your distance was best.

Even if you want nothing more than to reenact the time when his fist was in your hair. Even if you craved getting new friction burns on your elbows and knees, with him making you come so hard you forget you’re even a soldier.

There’s also the times when your frustration has risen to new heights and you feel less than whole. When you need comfort and kindness and a moment away from orders, killing and fucking sand.

You decide you should really keep your distance then.

Not because you don’t want him and not because you don’t care for him. But, because he’s your lieutenant. He has a job, a role—as do you.

It’s why you treasure the moments when he’s the one who surrenders. When he finds you.

You have no idea what you fuckin’ do to me, Rain.

You try not to think about it—the effect you have on him. But you see it in the moments when he pulls you into dark corners where the two of you steal milliseconds. His hands grasping, you able to steal a rushed kiss and he leaves bruising touches—as if needing to remind himself your real and very much alive.

“Be safe.” “Always am.” “No. You’re fuckin’ not." “I try, I promise.”

His words pressed into your shoulders, collarbone and sternum. Your smirk stolen when his hand slid between the two of you when, teasingly spreading you with two fingers as his body pins yours in place.

If your mind ever tried to scrub him from it—you know your body would never forget him.

It hums and fucking sings for him. It aches for his touch. Thankful he never makes you miss him too much, not letting your body forget how delicious it is when he fills you, stretching you when his hips meet yours.

“Lemme hear you. I need to hear you.”

And you hum, chant and fucking sing his name.

“That’s my girl. Fuck—that’s my girl.”

Ensuring his eyes stare into you as he brings you close, your orgasm pending, so close to pushing you over the edge—teasing you, breath dancing over your lips.

Ghost enjoys making you wait. Torturing you. Ridiculously enjoying the fact that you want his mouth on yours, but won’t surrender, instead choosing to directly sear himself into your soul, as you whimper his name, until it paints itself on the walls of whatever room you two find yourself in.

Between these times—when he orders you to his room or turns up at your door—you could convince yourself it’s a dream. If not for the fact you have one of his t-shirts amongst your stuff, you could have been persuaded you’d made it all up.

But, it’s real. It’s real because of the soft moments between all the others. The innocent things, the soft looks, the nods.

He tries to be near you, making it impossibly difficult to touch him. His body shielding you from the others, unknowingly being protective—more so than he ever was.

If anything, he's closer, but more verbally distant. Only making jokes and normal retorts when you've worn him down, convincing him it's okay.

It's as though he's worried if he doesn't, everyone will know he spent his time off fucking you senseless. That he sought you out when danger knocked.

That he feels something for you.

“You know, I held your hand after drinks in the mess—and Soap didn’t realise. I think we’re good.” “That’s because you tricked him into doing two shots to your every one. “Exactly. Not the smartest cookies we work with.”

Some days you take the distance better than others. You’ll stand, stiff spine and chin raised, fighting it reaching out. Knowing he needs it.

But, on harder days—like today—your fingers clench and pinch your skin through your trousers so you don’t speak, to afraid you’ll cry. Whispering his name under your breath when he’s pulling you to evac.

His hand lowering from his chest, as if he’s been grasping it, eyes on you as your form begins to crack.

“Can we just… stop for a second… it hurts….“

But, he won't. Even if you're pleading, just needing him. Not even to stroke your cheek or call you sweetheart, to just tell you it'll be okay.

Not speaking, not stopping, until he can lean you against the truck, Soap quickly wrapping an arm around you—stopping you from falling.

“You’re good, Rain. Alright?”

You’re not.

He knows it too.

Having frozen when he saw your arm in natural light, having ripped your t-shirt with his knife to see what he's dealing with. And since then, he's kept his distance like a complete fucking bastard.

“Johnny, put her arm back in.”

Soap’s head almost cracking with how quick he spins towards him, his arm already holding you up. “Lt, maybe we should wait—“

“Put her arm back in. Now.”

You blame your tears on your arm, not on his coldness. It’s not that you expected him to put it back in himself, but… something, anything.

“Please, Soap… please. Can we wait? It really feels like we should,” you whimper, leaning against the truck.

Pleading and pleading, hearing him whisper, “Sorry, Lass.”

Even if you want to wait, wanting to—

Your scream rips through you.

It burns. It pierces. Your eyes clenching shut, wanting him—needing him. Even something, a look, a touch.

But, when your eyes open, he’s not there. Not even close.

You should get checked out when you return.

Darting out of the truck before any of them can say anything to you.

Instead, you forego food and painting a smile on your face, needing to be alone. Needing to lick your figurative and physical wounds without forcing a front.

Embarrassment having woven in amongst the anger; the cracks deep within you widening, all of your own demons flowing out.

So you find solace in the shower block. Letting the sound of the running shower drown your hiss and groans as you strip with difficulty, your hand gripping the counter as you pull your top over your head, staring at the various colours of the developing bruises and the swollen nature of your shoulder.

It’s everything when you step into the burning hot water.

It’s scolding and numbing all at once, a welcomed feeling compared to the dull, constant, throbbing ache due to the dislocation.

Each action you try to do worsens it, biting your lip until it bleeds as you try to wash your hair—wash the pain, sand and dirt from your skin. You try to wash his ignorance from you too, craving him, needing him.

Realising how wrong that was.

You knew who he was. Knew all he could give you.

It didn’t stop it all from hurting. All of it. Loving him. The missions. Missing him. The last few weeks of chasing phantoms.

Fuck.

You love him.

It bubbles inside of you, strangling you. Reaching up from deep inside of you, knotting everything as you try to keep a handle on it all.

But it’s too much. And so you sob.

Silently at first. Body shaking, hand clutching your mouth. And then it ripples through you.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

It makes your chest rise and fall quicker, and quicker. It vibrates through you, your grip on the body wash bottle slipping as it clatters and your spine crashes into the wall.

As each tear spills, the shower does its best to hide them. Tries to bury them. Keep your secrets as if they’re its own.

It’s not until the last sud slides down the drain do you begin to replay it.

Your positioned compromised, your feet rushing to the stairs, being thrown off your feet, hand clutching your gun as the dust blocks your vision. You can hear him scream into your radio; it almost sounding like care and panic.

Almost. I have no where to go. Find a way. Copy. Rain? You can do this.

Your body fighting it’s way through. Reading between the lines, Find a way back to me.

So you have to. You have to do something. Get out. To him. Whatever your motivation, you fought. Knife in hand. Gun poised. Clearing each level, glad for the explosion and the dust, working in your favour as you moved silently.

Each turn, you hoped you’d see one of you—needing it.

Almost there. So close. So fucking close until you see them. The one you’re after. His picture burnt into your mind from the amount of briefings you’ve had about it.

So you don’t think. Not as you slam your body into him, knife clattering away from you and him. Your gun swinging back around. Their body made of stone as you both land, their reaction quicker, flipping you, hands around your throat. Your nails scratching, pushing your leg up, something they preempt, before tightening and tightening as your shoulder screams, and your throat hisses for air—

Then, all of a sudden, he’s ripped from on top of you. Blinking, trying to breathe as you clutch your throat. Hearing someone shouting to someone—British, gruff.

Your eyes opening, finding him—Ghost. Simon. His eyes full of fury, wildfire and brimstone—scanning over you, checking you.

You’re not sure what you expect, but him being calm isn’t it.

“You hurt?” “Shoulder. Dislocated, I think.” His hand outstretched, pulling you up by your good one as you wheeze. “I found a way, like you said.” “Fuckin’ Jesus, Rain.”

You’d known it would be hard. The two of you.

But that tone. The way he hissed it at you, it made something knot inside of you.

Knowing deep down the only reason his indifference hurts is because you wanted to bury your head into his chest. You wanted a stolen moment. But you couldn’t, not without letting them all know. The secret festering inside of you, making things horrid and bitter—half-wondering if you can handle much more of this.

Missing him, while knowing why it has to be this way.

It’s why you stay in the shower. No one expects anything from you in here. You can enjoy the sound of nothingness. The emptiness. Fall apart in the complete fucking silence—no one doing anything about it.

Away from him, your brain can’t conjuring what ifs and what could have been. A moments peace from pain as the water scolds to the point it numbs, the silence soothing the rest of the anxious adrenaline.

And then, it’s ruined.

Jumping, heart lurching out your throat when the shower-block door flies open, the sound of two boots shattering it all before the discernable sound of a lock is turned.

You know that gait. Know those boots.

The gruff voice calling out, “Rain,” confirming it. “Rain?”

Still, the way he says your call name almost makes you smile. It’s laced in worry, in care, hearing his boots stop outside where you are.

Seeing the shadow of him through the curtain. That burly, thick, tall god of a man. The one whose hand dwarfs yours and whose body can shield you from the sun.

You should speak, almost willing yourself to as you swallow. Running the back of your hand against your face, before turning the water off—removing the background noise and replying without any words that your conscious.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbles, dark and gruff—if only to himself.

You hear a shuffle before a gloved hand darts through the cream curtain with a towel balled in his grip, “Here.”

You consider being difficult.

Forcing him to say whatever he has to communicate through the curtain and not do it with your eyes on him. Because he likes that. He said as much in one of the many times he tried to snap you in half.

Your eyes are fuckin’ everything, sweetheart.

You take it from him all the same. Ensuring you don’t touch him as you do. Wrapping it around yourself, not bothering to run it over your hair, not bothering to really dry yourself. Protect, shield, hide. That’s your focus, your only focus—as you open the curtain, the sound of plastic and metal grating as you unveil yourself.

You’re not sure what you expect, but his mask half-lifted, exposing his lips and lower cheeks, and leaning against the tiles wasn’t it. You expected stiff shoulders, a menacing glare, and a rigid body.

“I’m not fucking you if that’s why you’ve locked the door,” you say quickly, ensuring your gaze is as sharp as his.

“I’ve not—bloody hell, Rain. S’not why I’m here.”

Stepping out, your wet toes against dry tiles make goosebumps dance up your legs. Your eyes focusing on the mirrors above the sink, feeling water dripping down your skin. It falls from your hair to your shoulders, raising your good arm to use your palm to wipe condensation from the mirror—not wanting to look at him directly.

He’s not moved any of your clothes. Not even the ones you‘ve taken off, the ones covered in blood or the ones you need to put on. Except for your tags.

Your eyes linger on the one with the clear thumb mark having been brushed over it. Too smooth to not be a gloved thumb, the condensation having been removed, leaving it almost dry and exposing your name to the world.

Eyes connecting with his, watching him dip his as he sighs.

You’re betting he’d hoped you wouldn’t notice.

Forgetting who you are. How you always notice the smaller things—it’s why you’re good, why you’re needed. It’s also why you’re better on roofs than hand-to-hand—it’s why your shoulder dislocated when you rugby tackled the enemy to the ground. That and the man you took down being double your size. You barely make Ghost move during sparring.

“Rain, c’mon.”

The lump in your throat forms as he says your name again. Finding it quickly fills too much space—cutting off any reply, and almost hindering your breathing.

But, he’s shifted, leaning sideways now to watch you, your eyes lifting from the sink to the mirror and back again.

I had to see you.

Sighing, you stare at him, softer, more forgiving than you’d have mustered earlier.

“You’re a piece of shit.” He rolls his lips, looking at you, as if imploring you to continue. “I needed you—“

“—I know—“

“—and you… you passed me to Soap? Like you’re not… like we’re not. Why? I don’t even ask you for anything—but, I needed you, Simon. I tried to spear a man twice my size into the ground and you couldn’t even look at me!”

He stands, and you shake your head, hiding your eyes as you look down at your clothes, hands gripping the counter.

“Deserve better than me, sweetheart.” “Better than what? You’ve not even asked me what I want.” “What d’you want?” “You.” “Dirty girl.” “Ha. Ha. I want all of you. Not just your cock. I want, when you’re ready, all of you. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don’t need a label. I don’t want special treatment. But, if you want me, and only me, then I’m yours. No games. No hiding and running away. It’s us. Until one of us decides it isn’t.” “Yeah?” “Yes, Simon. Warts and all. Skeletons and masks.”

You understand, on some level. Aware it’s even a little selfish of you to call him out on something you know the reasoning behind.

Because if they find out, it changes things.

Your guard will go down. The two of you fumbling, risking it getting out of the base and onto enemies radars.

And he’s lost so much. Too much, truthfully.

It’s why you both made the stupid promises amongst bedsheets and sweat-slicked bodies that nothing would change when you were here—at work.

And, he must be replaying the same conversation. His eyes glazed, ever so slightly before they land on you. They’re warmer and kinder.

As kind as Ghost’s eyes can ever be when behind his mask and surrounded by face paint.

“I couldn’t, that’s why.”

“Because you’re afraid showing me a slither of kindness will tell them all you’re sleeping with me?” you snap.

His hand running over his jaw. “No—and we’re more than that. And y’know that.”

His voice tainted with hurt as you arch your brow.

And he sighs, rolling his jaw. “I couldn’t because I wanted to burn everyone in our path each time I looked at you. And then I couldn’t put your arm back in because I knew it would hurt, and I can’t fuckin’ hurt you, Rain.”

Your head turns, meeting him face on. Surprise falling across your features.

“I can put my finger in your wound, I can hold your head while you’re fuckin’ bleeding. But, sweetheart, your scream… fuck, I wanted to punch Johnny. I wanted to find Price and that fuckin’ man, and rip his head off. Fuck keepin’ him alive. And fuck, the fucking mission.”

It thunders, your pulse. Heart hammering so loud, you’re sure he must hear it.

“You have no idea what I wanted to do when I found you, when I saw where his hands had been,” he adds, his fist clenching at his side, eyes dropping to your neck.

Your ears buzzing from your quickened heart rate. It hammering, thick, heavy and pounding into your ribs and making the anger melt.

Turning back to the mirror, you let your shoulders relax, ever so slightly. Sliding a hand up, moving your hair as best as you can—trying to disguise your hiss and groan as you reach down to pick up your dog tags.

And he hears it. Ghost hears your pained hiss.

He must have. His feet move, chest coming into contact with your towel-covered back in an instant. The mere knowledge he’s there makes you want to turn on the spot, and curl into him. Even if he stays rigid and doesn’t move.

Because it hurts. It hurts more than you thought it would. Knowing it’s all likely because you’re tired and drained of everything, of keeping a smile on your face, of fighting him and his apparent displeasure at you.

It’s only a dislocation.

It’s not a bullet. It’s not a knife. You’ve literally survived worse.

Still, you blink, tears begging to fall—fighting them with all you have. Only then feeling his fingers tap on your elbow, looking through the mirror to you for permission: can I touch you, can I help you?

You nod, tears falling as you whimper a “Please”. It coming out all strangled and strained, barely close to your normal voice.

He’s gentle, oh so gentle.

Taking the chain from your hand, lifting it, letting the scent you’ve come to know as simply him mixing with the air. Smoke, sweat and wood. The metal chain teasing your skin and neck, gloved fingers tracing your skin.

Your throat thick, your body tense, having needed him close for the last hour—and yet you still hiss when the tags hit your breastbone, the click of it so loud in the built-up silence.

The same silence you expect to be interrupted again when he moves. Keeping your eyes closed, not wanting to watch him do so.

But, Ghost doesn’t move.

One eye opening, finding him watching you.

Instead, his fingers slide from around the chain down the back of your neck. The fabric rough against your soft skin, watching them descend down, moving to your collarbones—to places he’s nipped and kissed. Your body almost flushes with warmth. Sheer will and determination are the only reason you haven’t let it.

Something which is harder as his hands slide down the side of the towel, firm grip feeling the way you curve until they land at your waist.

He’s stiff. Tense. It takes you a second, but you’re sure he’s hugging you. His version of it, anyway.

Tight and rigid, until his shoulders defriend his ears, and his muscles realise you’re not going to pull away. Not realising you never would. That you’ve wanted this, needed it—and been too afraid to ask.

It’s all you’d wanted since he pulled you up off the ground, your other arm hanging limply. You’d just wanted to be pressed against him, whether it be like this where he kept your spine to his chest or where your chest was to his.

And from the way he’s holding you, you’re not sure this is just for you. That maybe, like you, you’re sure he wants to be around you. Unprepared—same as you—to delve deeply into the churning emotions which have begun peppering his heart. All of it a confusing array of emotions too complex to be unpacked here, tomorrow or next week.

Your lips almost whisper thank you, but he silences it with the way he looks at you.

Don’t fucking thank me, Rain. I know I shoulda done this earlier.

His chin comes to rest on the top of your head, affirming the thought you’re sure you can hear, his eyes pinning it in place in your mind. Not wanting you to forget there’s a part of him—the one which had been in your home, in your bed—that is softer and kinder than the man he has been earlier.

Even if the steam is misting over the parts your fingers brushed away, his eyes prevail. Persevering through condensation and steam.

The look slowly pecking its way through you, the walls you’ve thrown up, the shield you’ve put in place whenever he has to do his job when he has to show no mercy and treat you like the subordinate you are.

“We good?” you ask, needing to.

The thought pecking and pecking.

He shifts his chin, allowing a twitch of his lips to show. “We’re good.”

You blink in relief, leaning back into him—letting him wrap his arms around you a little easier as you relax.

“Simon…”

You rarely say his name, and it forces his eyes up from wherever they’d fallen. Usually only letting yourself taste each letter of it when he tells you to when he’s buried so deep inside of you, and you’re not thinking.

“It hurts… a lot.”

He sighs, cool, against your wet hair as he wraps his arms around your front, holding you tighter on the one side of your body that isn’t screaming in agony.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The parts of his face you can see, seem to be turning over something, eyes glancing over your shoulder, one hand lifting, almost ghosting over the developing bruises and inflamed skin.

His lips part, as if to speak something else

And, then he turns you. Your feet move with ease until you’re face to face with him—lower back pressing against the sink counter.

A tear falling down your cheek, one quickly followed by another.

If you hadn't just spoken, you’re sure you could have easily excused it as water from your hair. But, from this position, it doesn’t blend. It stands out, sparkling and shining to the two of you—as he raises a hand to wipe it away with his thumb.

“I like you alive, too.”

Your eyes meet his, taking a moment until you realise the call back to your words from your bed that first night: I care about you and… I like you alive, Simon.

He dips his head, making it easier to stare into his eyes as he nods. I mean it. I mean them. Believe me.

Both of your shoulders sink, as if the rest of the unspoken words are heavy on both of you, adding a breath each to the air as he lifts his mask up to his forehead before you raise a hand to touch his lower cheek.

You brace for the flinch—before your hand touches him. The one he always does as soon as you brush his skin with any kindness. The demons inside of him making him think he’s not worth it, all the scars which your eyes cannot see, having made him that way.

It’s why when your fingers make contact, you don’t change your expression at his wince, holding his stare, so he knows: It's okay, I’ve got you.

“We good?” you whisper, too afraid to say it any louder.

Watching his eyes fix on you, feeling him curl his head slightly into your palm. “We’re good.”

His own hand beginning to draw the same shapes, as you are on his cheek, on your hip—his forehead slowly pressing against yours.

And it’s intimate.

More intimate than the two of you have been in some time. A moment growing, blossoming. It stuffing out the silence and making something else in its place.

“Rain...”

“Ghost.”

“…Sweetheart.”

You smile, not quick enough to retort a baby, darling or a dearest back, because he says your name.

The same one he stroked earlier. Your real one.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

And it hits you. Silences you. Able to hear the thought. His thought.

It screams and shouts. Having been stuffed down inside of him for weeks. It almost thrums in the air, having begun as a soft strum of a guitar or the soft lulls of a piano and is now reaching its climax—the part of the song where the key changes, the bridge, and everything shifts on its axis.

He tears his eyes from you.

The confirmation damning.

“Oh, Simon…”

You watch his Adam's apple bob, his jaw tightening even as you try to stroke the tension away—pulling his focus back to you.

Not saying it with words either, but responding with a similar look.

I do too.

And you hope he can hear you too.

Hoping he’s in tune with your internal thoughts, as you are with his. That you’re both speaking the same language, even if you’re saying nothing out loud.

The silence different than before. It’s comforting. Allowing the two of you to have as many milliseconds, seconds and minutes.

“C’mon, you need food.”

Your eyes dip, rolling your lips together as he drops his hand from your hip, your hand falling from his. Looking up, watching his mask shift back into place

“Ghost…”

“Yea?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, sighing. “Could you… I know that it’s not usually what we do, but… could you help me… get dressed?”

He nods. Brief. Direct. It almost making you laugh.

Unsure how the two of you are more embarrassed about that, than almost saying out loud that you love one another.

“Lemme know if I hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Eyes locking with yours, he blinks—once, twice—before his hand reaches past you, and you wonder if he’s smiling.

Wanting to find out, his face so close, but he moves as if reading you, returning to his position clutching your underwear.

You can’t help but watch as he slowly lowers down onto his knee, your hand leveraging your weight on the counter as you raise one leg.

He’s delicate, more than anyone would believe if you ever told this story. Not even looking up when you pull the towel up, even if you’re exposing your bottom half to him.

Ghost being so methodical, tapping your other foot as you slide it through the leg hole. You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as his hands pull the fabric up, moving it past your knees, your thighs and onto your hips.

His eyes linger on your skin, before flicking to your eyes and then presses a single, masked kiss to the space just above where the bone of your hip is.

The action alone screams the same words he didn’t say earlier. Those three words.

Ones you don’t require him to say, not needing to hear them.

You know.

Have known since he stood opposite you between your opened bedroom doorway. It rolled from him then, just as it is now. Thick, large waves, and you don’t mind if it pulls you under, wishing it would fill your lungs, drown you.

Because you’re hoping to drown him too. Not even realising you’ve already pulled him under. Having done so months ago, before he’d even shown up at your door.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw22 #ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x you

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watchtowerindistress · 19 days

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for the love of ... bob? - jake seresin x reader (2/2)

Summary: Being Jake's (best) friend - sorry, Javy - proved to have its ups and downs but there was something about having him in your corner you couldn't resist. Jake and you just clicked on a deeper level. That's why you didn't get it when the Southern boy was acting so weird.

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Jealous! + Soft!Jake, fluff, language, kinda angsty, kinda mean!Jake

Author’s note: I haven't seen Anyone but You (I just get the icky when I see two blondes on screen), so I took Glen's sentiment that he's not the best singer 🤷🏻‍♀️ Is it obvious yet that I really like Lewis/Bob? 😏 Who knew that I would write a Jake story and have Bob's name mentioned soooooo many times to get Jake to freak out? This chapter made me realize ... maybe I'm not good with painting a scene when I feel more comfortable just writing the banter/dialogue because at times I'm just more "clinical" when it comes to narration and I just want to get to the point. 😅

No words can describe how much everyone's reactions moved me. Especially how so many people reblogged this fic. Keep on doing what you're doing, guys! 😘

Chapter Summary: Y/N is an absolute mastermind, but Natasha is one too. Bob is an absolute sweetheart (nothing new to see here).

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @silenthappyplace @mrsevans90 @dempy @arcxnxm @hookslove1592 @djs8891

Read me on AO3

~Jake POV~

“Special delivery for Floyd.”

Maverick showed up in the break room. And, without further ado, dropped a Tupperware container on the table where Bob was sitting. Bob looked up curiously. “Huh, okay…”

Jake was sitting with the rest of the Dagger Squad on base, when his mouth hovered over his sandwich, about to take a bite.

“Y/N dropped it off at Penny’s,” Captain Mitchell explained.

At the mention of your name, Jake frowned before turning his head to inspect what Maverick just delivered.

“Oh, Bob is climbing the racks of popular guys around here,” Natasha teased. “Let me see.” She reached for the piece of paper taped on the cover.

Despite Bob’s efforts to stop her, Natasha’s actions were too swift. He observed Jake with uncertainty.

Natasha narrated the post-it, “Just a small piece of Montana so you can feel more at home, Bob. Only meant for sharing when the others have done something nice for you,” she paused. “Woah, this can be tough for some people. P.S. I’ll be your Huckleberry. Y/N. That’s cute. And then there’s some sort of smiley face.”

Bob snorted before revealing the insides of the Tupperware. The smell of dessert reached their nostrils. It left a speechless Bob behind. He smiled fondly. “Oh, … it’s Huckleberry Buckle.”

The rest of the crew groaned in delight.

“Bob, my friend,” Bradley leaned down, to drape his arm over his shoulder, “you do know that I held the door open for you this morning.”

Bob chuckled. “Just dig in, y’all. If you want some, just grab a plate and a fork.”

This was the signal for most of the Dagger Squad to spring into action.

“Don’t be animals. One for plates and one for forks,” Javy reminded them.

With sentimental eyes, Jake took another glance at the freshly baked dessert. He cleared his throat. “That’s Y/N for you. Baking stuff is Y/N’s love language,” he explained before watching Bob out of the corner of his eye while everyone dug in.

Bob took his ringing phone from out of his pocket. “Hey, yes, I—we just got it. You just made everyone’s day, I think.”

The Dagger Squad echoed with their mouths full, “We love you, Y/N! Love—love you!”

Jake intensely watched Bob while he munched on the pastry, desperately wanting to know what you two were talking about.

“You want me to—really? Did you mention that to-” Bob’s gaze met Jake’s. Once he already found him already staring at him, Bob meekly averted his eyes. “Um, yeah, sure. Hangman, it’s for you,” he said, giving him the phone.

Jake put a smile on his face when he spoke with a gravelly voice. “Hello, stranger.”

He heard you on the other end exhale. “Has anyone ever told you that you got a really sultry voice?”

Jake inhaled deeply and instantly regretted it. Choking on a crumb, Jake coughed to clear his throat. He felt his skin heat up, either your words or the chocking hazard was getting to him. “Uhm, okay?” He phrased as a question. “Not under these circumstances, no.” For good measure, he took a huge gulp of water.

“Have you asked them yet? You know, the karaoke thing?”

“No?”

Jake could basically feel you vibrating through the phone.

“Well, are you gonna? Time is of the essence.”

“Why are you so adamant to get it done this quickly?” He asked, taking another bite.

You stammered, “I need to—I just do. Aren’t we best friends?”

Jake laughed at your faltering attempt to get your way. “Of course, we are.”

“Then it’s your responsibility to make me get to know your colleagues, no questions asked. Maybe I could make you look good, huh?” Now your insistence for this event kinda made more sense.

He exhaled, “Guys, want to do karaoke night with Y/N?”

The Dagger Squad made whoops of agreement.

“You heard that? You really know how to work the crowd, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I have to make use of my strengths.”

Jake shook his head. “I can tell.”

“Now I know why we never did karaoke together,” Natasha mused before knocking back a drink of tequila.

“What?” Jake was still smiling widely when he stepped off stage.

“That was horrendous to watch. And I’m not even talking about what we were just forced to listen to.”

He rolled his eyes at her dig. “Come on, you’re just being mean. Y/N, hey, tell them.” Jake widened his arms, expecting you to snuggle up to his chest.

As if reading his mind, you stepped into his arms. Almost like you were keeping him in suspense, you licked your lips and patted his chest consolingly. “You looked really handsome up there on stage.”

“See?” Jake looked around to challenge his witnesses before realization hit him. He followed you as you stepped away from him. “Wait, what?”

Any disappointed feelings evaporated within him when Jake sat next to you on the couch which oversaw the karaoke stage and spoke softly, “You having fun?”

You leaned against his side, feeling content with just doing your familiar tradition. “You know I do. Thanks for being such a good sport about this.”

“You mean for me being such a horrible singer?”

“You’re tolerable,” you said soothingly and stroked the back of his neck.

“Gee, thanks.”

You nudged your head against his shoulder. “Kidding. You have a great shower voice.”

With a frowning face, Jake stared at you.

You paused in thought. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Already forgotten.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You briefly leaned your head back into the crook of his neck.

The expression which bordered between mischief and intimacy on Jake’s face was only meant for you to see. “Careful, darlin’. With words like that, you’re starting to make all the girls here jealous.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Natasha interjected, jolting you from your thoughts. “Don’t know if you guys are disgusting or just too adorable together.”

You chuckled, hiding your face behind your hair.

Jake leaned his arm against the back of the couch you were sitting on and said with a teasing voice, “Oh, Phoenix, is there something you want to tell?”

A mysterious smile lingered on Natasha’s lips. “I don’t know. Is there something you want to tell?”

Jake remained silent when he narrowed his eyes. “Nope.”

“Pity,” Natasha retorted.

“This tension is getting way too thick for me.” You decided and braced yourself to stand up. “Bob’s song choice is calling my name.”

At the mention of his name, Jake turned his head in an almost comical way. “Wait, Bob?”

You turned halfway around. “Definitely. I think I’m feeling ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’, you know?”

Natasha gave her vote of confidence. “Don’t let Bob fool you. He’s great. As long as you don’t get into a duet with Rooster.” Her eyes widened at that specific scenario. “I’m serious. I can’t take one more ‘Great Balls of Fire’ today.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Jake stood up, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “We’re singing together, right?”

“Of course we are, buddy. It’s tradition,” you said, patting his cheek before leaving again.

Jake sat back down with a sigh, mouthing, “Buddy?” to himself.

“You must have really scared her off with your karaoke performance, … buddy,” Natasha teased next to him.

“You know what?” Jake brooded over his next retort. “Why don’t you have fun with your next Britney song, huh?”

“Thanks. If I play my cards right, I could convince Y/N to join me. I bet she likes Toxic, huh?”

“Everyone does.” Knowing that you wouldn’t mind that one bit.

~ Jake POV ~

“Another plane, another train. Another bottle in the brain. Another girl, another fight. Another drive all night,” You rapped without having care in the world while you mimicked guitar sounds. With your arm slung over his shoulder, Jake carried your body inside.

“You know, I got neighbors, right? I don’t know if they’d appreciate you hollering to the Beastie Boys.”

As if the thought just hit you, you rasped, “I could do it while whisper-yelling. You know, show them some taste.”

Jake shook his head at your antics. “You and your 90’s songs.”

“That was actually late 80’s.”

Jake only chuckled at your musical knowledge shining through. “Someone’s not drunk, huh? Do I need to carry you to bed?”

“Oh, Mr. Lieutenant Seresin-” You leaned back with a smirk, inspecting Jake thoroughly. That gaze alone, and that rank drop, sent a surprising shiver down his spine.

-“You know, I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Only you would try to flirt in your affectionate state.”

“I’m always flirting with you.”

That reminder unsettled Jake, especially since that sort of affection seemed unusual to other people. For some reason, he didn’t want to lose that. Jake swallowed, frowning. “Yeah, that … that’s what we do. We’re just really, uh…”

“Really secure in our friendship,” you added, holding onto his arms.

His eyes lit up, feeling grateful for your words and warm from your touch. “Exactly. We are.”

You smirked. “How secure do you feel with Javy?”

“Hey, that’s very different. I’m very comfortable with ‘touching guys’, but we’re not in the flirty stage.”

You pursed your lips, imagining that specific scenario. “So, you’re saying you could get there with him one day.”

He didn’t have to ponder about that. “Nope. There’s never been the need for that.”

“Oh, you’re saying I’m special, sweetheart?” Your hold shifted into a tight hug.

“Don’t fish for compliments. You know you are,” Jake whispered quietly, like he was sharing something only for you to know.

“Oh, that’s nice,” you muttered. Snuggling deeper into his strong shoulders while enjoying his warmth. “Damn, your shoulders are really something else, huh? Did I already say that?”

Jake’s shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s fine.”

Like a gentle and exploring piano player, your fingers danced around his shoulder. “You must get them compliments all the time from everyone else.”

“I don’t care about everyone else,” Jake paused.

“Sorry for objectifying you. You’re a real nice guy.”

“First, I don’t mind you objectifying me. Second, don’t you dare call me nice.”

“Oh, you’re just a sweetheart and I don’t get why you don’t let others see that.” Jake felt his body vibrate when you nestled deeper into his neck. Maybe it was easier for Jake to admit stuff if he didn’t have to look at you.

That thought process was eviscerated when you leaned back to stare into his eyes. You stroked his cheeks with deep consideration. “You know, sometimes I keep thinking you deserve so much more than the small scraps of brief flings you’re setting for yourself.”

Almost allured, Jake leaned his face into your palm. Before he caught himself with that infuriating smile. “Oh, you’re thinking about me having sex. Is there something you want to tell me?”

He could feel your disappointment deeply in his core when you sighed heavily. “Jake, you really know how to kill the mood.”

Jake smiled proudly. “Thanks. I really worked hard on that skill.”

With wide eyes, your whole stance changed. “I changed my mind. Can you take me to bed, in a purely platonic way?”

“Only because you asked nicely.”

“Oh, proof that Jake Seresin is secretly a gentleman.” As soon as he offered his smile, you squeezed his dimples, like he was a little kid.

Jake shook his head. “Okay, I think it’s time for bed.”

“And the great Hangman takes aim. Will he be able to defeat the local competition or forfeit his winning streak?”

Jake sighed at hearing Rooster commenting with high anticipation on their pool game at their usual hangout. His arm, holding the cue, hesitated on the pool table. “Rooster, if I have to listen to your droning voice any longer-”

Rooster leaned over the cushion, whispering teasingly, “Why? Am I getting inside your head?”

Jake scoffed at the insinuation. “You think you can get to me with mind games? I invented those.” He pulled his arm back. The moment he saw you enter, a fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw you laugh with Natasha and -

-pat Bob’s arm?

Jake pushed the cue forward. And watched in apprehension as it slipped away from the ball. “Fuck me,” he grumbled. He couldn’t look away from the unfolding car accident of his play as the ball slithered frustratingly to the middle of the table.

Rooster snorts morphed into boisterous laughter. “Outstanding performance. At least something is getting to you. Are you sure you’re as good as you claim to be?”

Jake whipped his head around. “You know, why don’t you play one of your piano sessions?”

“That would be kind of hard to do since-” Rooster leaned forward with his cue stick. “-you know, I’m beating you.”

Jake cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt his eyes wander surreptitiously to the pair sitting at the bar. Jake made grumbling noises when Penny covered his view as his fingers tightened around the cue stick.

“Ace, you need a special invitation or are you considering to surrender already?” Jake heard the annoying voice behind him. It took everything inside him to not give up and wander where he really wanted to go.

“You’re a hilarious bird.”

Jake lined up his shot.

~ Y/N POV ~

“Okay, what did I miss?”

When you turned your head, Jake sauntered next to you. It took you another glance until you noticed something amiss. “Woah, what happened? You look really hot,” you said, inspecting Jake’s forehead with the back of your hand.

Jake smirked. “Well, thank you. I try my best.”

You rolled your eyes at Jake’s antics to view everything as a compliment. “No, you dork. I mean, you’re like really sweaty. Did you overdo it with the testosterone match?”

“I think I did it just right,” Jake sputtered.

“Who won?”

His green eyes twinkled at the spoken challenge, making your heart flutter. “Who do you think?”

It took you less than a few seconds to look towards Bradley, who swaggered behind Jake. “Who won?”

Jake opened his mouth to gasp at your cheekiness not to trust his word. “I won! What are you asking him for?”

“Barely,” Bradley mouthed, making you giggle. “Totally. I was absolutely … destroyed.” His eyes turned serious when Jake’s gaze found his. “I need some beer to recharge,” he said, moving away.

With a conspiring demeanor, Natasha leaned forward to whisper into your ears. “Oh please, let me tell him.”

Jake’s head moved in her direction. “Oh, you’re here too. Tell me what?”

She placed her hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking your body with her utter enjoyment. “Someone’s gotten herself a date,” Natasha trilled with a sing-song voice.

The glower on Jake’s face sent shivers through your body. You felt uncertain at seeing his reaction. You tried to tell yourself that Jake was just being an overprotective friend. His gaze alternated between yours and Natasha’s before it finally landed on Bob’s.

A wide-eyed Bob swallowed his cup of water. “Not me. I mean, not that Y/N isn’t … you know-” You felt touched that Bob tried to rectify his statement by not wanting to hurt your feelings when he truly looked at you. “You’re really pretty. A guy would be lucky to have you.”

You inwardly gushed at Bob’s gentlemanly ways and felt utterly compelled to give him a hug. Instead, you held him by the shoulder. “Oh Bob, you’re such a sweetheart. You just earned yourself a dance. Pick a song.” With an energetic jump, you moved from your stool and went towards the jukebox.

“I didn’t want to make things weird for the team,” Bob whispered with wide eyes.

There was something akin to respect shining in Jake’s eyes when he nodded once before staring calmly at Natasha. He tried really hard not to reveal his candid emotions on his face. Jake promised to himself, he wouldn’t clench his jaw or cross his arms. He felt like a twitching fool when he was about to cross his arms. Instead, he was forced to let his arms glide downwards before he stroked his abdominal muscles. In the end, he awkwardly hid his hands in the back pockets of his pants.

Natasha smiled mysteriously. “Don’t worry, I’m a great matchmaker. She’s in the safest hands.”

“Phoenix,” Jake started, before he inwardly winced. He crossed his arms and spoke slowly, “what are you doing?”

She shrugged. “Just listening. Y/N mentioned something when we were talking.”

He couldn’t help tilting his head in intrigue. “What exactly?”

“That’s for me to know and you to butt out.” Natasha’s expression softened when she tried to soften the blow. “All in good time. I have a plan. It’s gonna sound weird, but you seem like someone who likes having their best friend close. This is me ensuring to make San Diego as appealing as possible to her. I’m just saying—if she wants to stay,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“By giving her a date? You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Best-case scenario: She’s gonna have the time of her life with the potential to meet the love of her life while getting a meal out of the date.” Natasha lifted the palms of her hands like a scale to weigh the chances. “Worst case: death by boredom. And next thing you know, Y/N is gonna seek comfort from her best friend after realizing that all naval aviators are douchebags.”

Jake groaned at the thought. “Ugh, great. It’s a damn naval aviator?”

She tilted her head in fascination. “Short question: does she have a thing for aviators? There was a fangirl moment when I mentioned Mav.”

He winced before murmuring, “It’s a statistics thing. Don’t mention Iceman around her.”

Natasha nodded. “Noted.”

“You’re way too involved in this.” Jake pressed his lips together, hoping to see her ultimate endgame. “What’s in it for you?”

“Not everything’s an agenda.” Natasha brushed by him, moving away.

Jake narrowed his eyes with deep suspicion. “And that’s not really an answer.”

~ Y/N POV ~

You could feel your heart beating nervously in your chest. Even your stomach was being all fluttery when you looked into the bathroom mirror while putting mascara on your eyelashes. You heard shuffling behind you before you met green eyes in the reflection.

Your voice echoed in the bathroom. “Jake, you’re hovering like a mother hen.” You didn’t bother turning around since you needed to focus on the task at hand, in order not to go crazy with anxiety. His rare controlling persona wasn’t helping matters.

Jake leaned his shoulder against the door jamb. “I’m just curious, that’s all. You’ve never met the guy. Assuming it’s a man, I don’t want to presume.” He waved his arms around. “I wouldn’t put it past Phoenix to put you on a blind date with a girl.”

You pursed your lips while mentioning casually, “Nat did mention that most of the aviators on the force were duds.”

Jake grimaced. “Going to ignore that,” he mumbled under his breath.

You wiped some mascara remnants from your eyelid. “Your sex not being dating material or me hypothetically dating the same team?”

Jake shook his head, clearing his throat. “So, where are you two lovebirds meeting tonight? Romantic restaurant, picnic by the waterfront?”

The annoyed growl leaving your mouth surprised you. Normally, you weren’t an irrational person who was prone for aggravation. His hovering presence distracted you in an inefficient way. “Seresin, you’re starting to cramp me in this bathroom.” You puzzled yourself more than him when you shoved him through the door. “All answers will be given in the living room after I had some breathing room.”

As soon as the door was closed, it felt like you could breathe again. You exhaled a heavy breath. “Oh my God,” you whispered.

“I heard that!” Jake protested behind the door.

“Good!”

Jake released the breath he was holding. He was sitting on the couch, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He mindlessly watched ‘The Real Housewives of New Jersey’ on his TV, needing something to run in the background while he was waiting for you to come out. Every time he heard noises coming from the bathroom, Jake craned his head, unable to tamp down his curiosity.

The moment the door closed again, he felt nervous energy coming off of him. And he didn’t truly understand why. Jake heard your shuffling feet in the distance before you finally came out. It felt like the breath had been knocked out of his body.

There was something about a Y/N in a sundress and ballet flats that made him feel very weird. You swung around to show off the full effect of your date attire.

“So, what’s the verdict? Does it meet the expectations of Jake Seresin at least?”

“Um-” Jake cleared his throat before he averted his gaze. “-it looks good.”

“Oh, if the dress looks good… Lucky me, huh?”

“Whoever you’re meeting tonight, they’re the lucky ones.”

“Oh.” You rushed forward, hugging Jake sideways in gratitude. “I like when sweet and charming Jake comes out. He’s such a gentleman.”

“I’m going to assert plausible deniability, in case you decide to reveal my secrets.” Jake shared a small smile with you, reminding himself to at least appear like he was fine with the thought of you going out with another naval aviator.

“I wouldn’t. Not for a good trade at least.”

Jake pointed at you as a reminder. “No apple pie.”

You threw your head back, groaning loudly. “How about a strudel?”

“Not even that.”

“Fine.” She leaned back against the couch before whispering quietly, – like you had to remind yourself - “I need to get going.”

He looked up. “You want me to drive you?”

“That’d be weird, wouldn’t it?”

Jake had to keep trying. “To pick you up then.”

A small part of him would remember fondly how he made you chuckle. “Even weirder flex. I’ll be fine.”

The goodbye kiss on his cheek made him sigh before he nodded with a resolved air. “Text me when you need a getaway car.”

You laughed airily. “Alright.”

It was an hour later when he was already lying in bed and mindlessly scrolling through social media on his phone when he received a text from you.

Don’t need a getaway car.

Nodding dazedly to himself, Jake whispered, “That’s just … great.”

Jake was proving to be an utterly, frustrating man. It had been fifteen minutes since you said good morning that Jake had uttered a word. Only the sound of awkward breakfast crunching could be heard.

You sighed when you saw Jake eye you inscrutably again. He truly thought he was being covert. “Okay, when are we going to break the tension?”

“What tension? There’s no tension.” Jake kept munching on his cornflakes. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Granted, Jake was the kind to keep on eating food, even when he wasn’t feeling well. “It’s a wonderful morning. I’m having breakfast.” Jake scarfed down a mouthful. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever.” To prove his point, he offered a close-lipped smile.

You narrowed your eyes in speculation. Talking gibberish was very unlike him. “You want to know how last night went.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t want to know,” you repeated slowly and in strong incredulity.

“Yep, no interest.” Jake paused in thought. “Unless you want to talk about your date.”

“I’m not going to force you into a conversation if you couldn’t care less.”

“I do care,” Jake rushed with his reply before his voice turned casual again. “I mean a meager amount.”

“Is this like a guy thing?” You sniffed, taking on a low manly voice for effect. “I don’t mind talking about my latest conquest but I’d rather die than talk about it in a meaningful way.”

“First, I hope that wasn’t an impression of me.”

Your face took on a blank expression before you crossed your arms. Waiting for Jake to continue with his list.

“Second, I don’t mind talking about your … dates, as long as it’s not, you know-” He winced. “-sexual.”

“Jesus, that was a first date. And besides, I don’t know if that’s sexist or something else, that you’re allowed to talk about that stuff, but not me?”

“I don’t know why we’re going the feminist route, but with you it’s just different,” he mumbled before shrugging.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Jake responded fervently. “And none of these guys deserve you.” His voice turned quiet, becoming serious all of a sudden. “You deserve someone better.”

Disappointment filled your body at Jake’s perspective. Recounting all the times in your head when you would tell him how he deserved someone who could challenge him, yet appreciate the things about him which made him such a decent and caring guy. It was a pity that Jake would rather wallow in his self-loathing, while pretending to be the most egotistical guy that ever existed than to be vulnerable for once.

Your shoulders deflated when you realized that maybe he would never be ready to have a meaningful relationship—or any relationship at all that progressed over the 3-day mark—and you swore that a small part of you died right there on the kitchen floor. Feeling more hopeless than ever.

Before you could fully understand the reason why this bothered you so much, Jake’s concerned expression pulled you out of the deepest parts of yourself.

“What? What’d I say?”

You shook your head. Never feeling this gloomy before. “You know, for someone who claims to be so smart, you’re just so dang stupid.” Every single word felt like it was torn painfully from between your lips.

“What?”

You just felt too tired to make Jake understand. It felt easier to just turn your body away. Despite how much you hated appearing this careless towards him. “I got to go. I’ll see you later, Jake.”

~ Jake POV ~

“Well, someone’s in a bad mood.” Natasha teased him. Despite them having to endure the same punishment by being forced to do push-ups next to each other, Natasha still seemed to be in a formidable mood.

Jake turned his head. Not caring particularly that he sent her a dark glower.

“Don’t hang your head, Hangman. I doubt you could’ve evaded Mav’s hit on your best day.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. Inwardly, he winced. His ma would have his hide if she heard him talking like that to anyone.

“What? No comeback? I wonder what else could be bothering you,” she mused to herself.

Natasha didn’t fool him one bit. Jake wondered if she had it out for him and that was why she focused so hard on Y/N.

“What do you think, Bob?” She decided to thrust the knife even deeper.

Even at the mention of his name, Jake swore his forehead garnered the first droplets of sweat.

Bob chose to focus on his push-ups before grunting, “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

“You’re way too nice.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “Yes, someone’s a real goody two-shoes.”

Bob turned his head, looking bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Oh, just sweet and perfect Bob who can do nothing wrong.”

Heavy footsteps came closer. “Why do I hear chattering and see no push-ups over here?” Maverick’s voice came over their heads.

“Understood, Sir,” Bob automatically replied.

Jake kept his mouth closed. As much as it pained him.

After the completion of their punishment and he had taken a shower, Jake hurried after Natasha in the rec room. “I need to talk to you.”

Natasha tilted her head. “I thought we already did.”

“Who was the date?”

She exhaled in exasperation, glaring at him. “You’re so predictable, Hangman,” she said, turning around to leave.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry-”

Natasha stopped in her tracks. She swivelled her head, frowning. “An apology? You just bought yourself two minutes of my time. Go on.”

“Was it Bob?”

Natasha breathed out slowly, pausing in thought. “…You have a weird fixation on Bob. I wonder why that is.”

Jake cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “I don’t-”

“Just kidding. I know why that is. And no. I asked, but he refused.” She shook her head, revealing that this bothered her more than she wanted to admit. “Honorable little fucker,” Natasha grumbled. She chose to clarify instead. “He wouldn’t have minded to date Y/N, but, you know- Didn’t he tell you this already?”

Bob did mention that. But Jake couldn’t help thinking that he might have changed his mind. He averted his gaze, feeling slightly depraved that he considered Floyd doing that. “Maybe. But still.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “What does it matter who the lucky fella was? What are you gonna do? Scare the hell out of them?”

It was indeed bad when someone like Phoenix could predict his future plans. “If it’s someone who doesn’t deserve her, then yes.”

She hummed. “If you know her so well, then tell me, what kind of person do you think Y/N deserves?”

Jake spread his arms. It felt strange how a list of things ran through his head and how they just rolled off his tongue. “Someone nice. Someone who just gets her and adores her little quirks. Just a gentleman.” He counted the amount of traits with his fingers. “Funny, maybe a bit sensitive or vulnerable. Good-looking, but that’s not as high up on her list as the inner qualities.”

Natasha remained quiet. Her brown eyes were staring at him with a profound expression. “Very insightful. Interesting qualities you just listed off. Anyone you know that could fulfil those strengths?”

At the mere mention, he felt like he was put in the spotlight. Either she wanted him to say ‘Bob’ – since those characteristics could cover him easily—or maybe utter his own name. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he wanted to be with you. And wanted to be a part of you.

Jake carefully glanced at Natasha. Not trusting her look of consideration, he narrowed his eyes. He spoke slowly. “I’m not sure.”

“Pity. I could be persuaded into making something happen, if you know what I mean.”

Jake licked his lips, knowing exactly what she was trying to get him to admit. He pressed his lips together.

“But … you would actually need to say the words.” She waited patiently before sighing. “My patience knows its limits though. So, if you got nothing to say, then…” Natasha pointed behind her to threaten her departure. She nodded to herself once before saying, “Okay.” And walked towards the exit.

Jake opened his mouth, as he watched her walk away. He didn’t understand where his courage was coming from when the words left his mouth. “Natasha, would you squeeze me in as Y/N’s date?” He knew how he’d usually call her ‘Phoenix’ or in very rare instances ‘Nat’ so he figured that she caught him in a vulnerable mood for a change.

She dramatically turned around and pursed her lips. “Depends. Will you also apologize to Bob for being an absolute dick?” She paused. “Again?”

Jake sighed. “Listen, I don’t-”

“It’s called being a decent human being. It’s the least you could do. Not to mention-” Natasha tapped her chin mockingly. “-I can’t imagine how Y/N would feel if she found out that someone was being this rude to sweet Bob. I mean, what do you think? How would she feel about that?”

He revealed a tight smile at the slight warning. There was no need to hit below the belt. He would have done it anyway if Natasha said he was being a jerk. “Fine, I got your point. I’ll apologize,” he grunted lowly.

She smiled cheerily. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You felt bad about ignoring Jake, you thought, while you waited in the midst of the amusement park of Belmont Park. Ever since this morning, things had been weird between you. Or Jake was just being his stubborn and obstinate self.

You had been baffled since Natasha sent you a message that the date location had changed. The more you looked around, you realized that you would’ve loved to spend time with Jake at this place. You exhaled with disappointment. Jake would absolutely force you on the roller-coaster, but then feel bad once your stomach was upset by buying you a funnel cake.

Deciding that your bond with Jake was far too important than to leave everything hanging like that, you yearned to clear the air. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts until your thumb pressed against the name.

The sound of a cell ringing in the distance made you turn your body in uncertainty. You frowned once you saw Jake advancing with hesitation, waving an arm in greeting.

“Hey, you.”

You hung up your phone, trying to grasp his presence. “What are you doing here? Did you want to ride the Giant Dipper, or something?”

Jake smiled awkwardly. “I wouldn’t actually mind that. Depends if my best friend would be up for it too?” You tried to prepare yourself against his puppy dog eyes as he stepped closer. The movement made you take notice of his suave appearance. You swore you could feel your knees weakening when you saw him wearing his jeans and a pressed white dress shirt.

Jake rubbed his hands against the fabric of his pants.

Not wanting to hurt him, you spoke slowly. “That’s hard to say. I’m kind of on a date. Just waiting, I guess.”

“Yeah, I know. Natasha told me.”

You felt befuddled by his explanation. “Why … would she do that?”

“I asked her to?” Jake phrased the statement into a cautious question.

You pursed your lips as you tried to understand why she would do that in the first place. “Did you bribe her?”

Jake blushed at a memory when he explained with a gravelly voice, “I think I paid her off by giving her the satisfaction in seeing me grovel.”

“How did that look like?” You said, feeling fascinated by the concept of a begging Jake. Even that word didn’t seem to fit him.

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” Jake grew silent before something akin to hope lit up his eyes. “Why did you want to call me?”

You cleared your throat. “Why are you here?”

Teasingly, Jake pointed at you. “I asked you first.”

You sighed. “I wanted to clear the air.” Still, you were not above getting one small dig in. “Unlike some people, I wanted to be the grown-up one here.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Now someone’s just being cheeky.” He exhaled, willing to admit any wrongdoings. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

“Why were you?” You spoke softly. Just because he was your close friend didn’t mean that Jake would get special treatment.

Jake stepped closer until you were only a foot apart. “Because I have a talent for it. Because it’s easier to just pretend. Because of you going out … with a naval aviator just pissed me off. Because I-” He breathed in, like he was preparing for you to hit him. “-I really, really like you.”

You blushed, not yet trusting if he meant it or if this was just some strange prank he wanted to pull off. “You like me,” you repeated, unable not to tease him just a little bit. “And here I thought most of the time I was your annoying best friend.”

“I think you’re confusing yourself with Javy.”

You cocked your head playfully. “Oh? Do you really, really like him too?”

He pursed his lips, like he needed to entertain that thought first. “He’s just alright, I guess. I mean, I more than like you. It’s like obnoxious.”

Wow, and here you thought, Jake could prove to be an adult for once. So, unless he decided to brandish a real love confession that didn’t sound like the most aggravating nuisance, you could do the same.

“Oh my God, you’re like a big kid, huh? Using those big boy words.”

His eyes were burning with sage fire. “You’re just so infuriating at times.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Says the great Jake?”

“That’s what I mean! You’re driving me absolute insane. You’re making friends with everyone you meet.” Jake counted at his fingers. “Maverick, Bob!-”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’s Bob got to do with this?”

“He’s like-” Jake grimaced. “-And you’re-” He waved towards you, very eloquently describing the issue at hand.

“I think somewhere was a compliment. Let me just reiterate: you think Bob’s a great, wonderful guy and I’m just-”

“Perfect,” he uttered with a hoarse voice.

You inhaled deeply, stammering nervously. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“It’s still the truth.”

“What if you’re only saying all of this because you can’t stand the idea of me getting with a naval aviator?” You voiced your inner worries, absolutely needing him to be truthful.

Jake opened his mouth several times before admitting, “Partly true. But the truth is, Nat made me realize I was just being too chicken to fully admit that I … I can’t imagine not spending the day with you. You make me think about you all the time. Even when I’m out with the guys and I keep thinking ‘Oh wow, Y/N would love to try out that drink’ or ‘As much as you’re a talker during Sunday Night Football-”

“Not always,” you mumbled quietly.

“-you still make it fun.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling very nervous and emotional by his words.

“Maybe I just didn’t realize I was in love with you until the concept truly hit me, that you might be into a … nice guy like Bob.”

Despite his familiar self-loathing, you couldn’t help reminding him with a small smile, “You’re a nice guy too, Jake.”

“Only with you.”

Jake’s confession made your heart palpitate in your chest nervously.

“So,” Jake started, “what do you feel for me?”

You hummed to yourself before confessing, “Ditto.”

Jake huffed loudly. “Oh my God. Of course, you’d be aggravating about it.”

“I’m just saying, maybe I really, really like you too.”

He shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. As much as you could tell what he wanted to hear from you.

In the end, you chose to take a chance. “Let’s just say, there are more times when I realized over the years how I’m in love with you than the amount of times when I can’t stand you. The second is pretty close though.”

You couldn’t have been prepared for Jake’s wide and blinding smile.

“Ditto.”

You rolled your eyes, while revealing a small smile on your lips. You decided to put him out of his misery when you admitted, “Nat was my date.”

“Wa-wait, what?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “She said that she had a specific guy in mind, but he wasn’t ready yet. I just thought it was someone who was still out on a mission. So, we hung out last night.”

Jake still remained confused. “And did what?”

“Nosy,” you mumbled. “Karaoke and stuff like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He inquired with wide eyes.

“I wanted to, but you decided to be a jerk about it.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “Nat ‘Fucking Mastermind’ Trace.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jake looked at your surroundings, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Do you want to go on a date?”

You smirked. “Like a platonic one?”

“Nope, like a real one. You know, the romantic kind. I promise to make it a bit fun, unique and unforgettable.”

“That’s a big promise.”

Jake smirked arrogantly. “I’m aware. It also perfectly describes me.”

You groaned loudly. “And here we go. I want Nice Guy Jake though and not the obnoxious one.”

He was walking alongside you, nodding. “I’ll tell him to take an off-day.”

“What is it about you and Bob though? He’s just a really stand-up guy. Really funny.”

“So am I.”

“Sometimes. Let’s just say, we just get each other. You know, cut from the same cloth.”

Jake hummed. At least he was no longer being a caveman when it came to Bob. “Okay,” he said, laying his arm over your shoulder.

“I mean, he was just helping me rent an apartment in the city,” you explained, gauging his reaction.

“What?”

“Yes, he offered to put in a good word and Nat sent me a few listings.”

It seemed like the rare event of a speechless Jake took place. “Huh, that’s-”

“As I live and breathe, a speechless Jake Seresin was just seen out and about.” You glanced at him through your eyelashes. “I think you were about to say that’s a real stand-up guy thing to do, huh?”

Jake sighed, not wanting to admit reluctant respect before mumbling something under his breath which sounded close to, “Damn it, now I really got to apologize.”

You turned your head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay. There’s still time for you to deal with your big boy emotions,” you replied before you chose to do something new. By taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together. “And here I thought, judging from your letters, you had more of a rivalry thing going with Bradley.”

“I know, right? I thought I would feel threatened by Rooster of all people. But Bob?”

“Let’s just say, in another life Bob would’ve swept me off my feet,” you retorted, patting him against his chest.

His blank expression could be described as something where he tried to imagine that so-called horror reality. “… Don’t even joke about that.”

#watchtowerindistress #steph writes #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #for the love of bob #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fic #hangman x reader

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normal-internet-user · 8 months

Note

Hi there! i read your percy one and it was sooo so good, i was wondering if you could do “I didn’t know where else to go” with a percy x reader. and it could be like some sort of an enemies or rivals to lovers, i’m also a huge angst girlie and idk why.

thx so much hope you’re doing so well and have the best day!!🥰🥰❤️❤️💙💙

I'm a total angst girlie too, make me an emotional mess please and thank you-

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SCARED FOR YOU

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Percy Jackson shows up at your front door bruised and battered, god this boy was going to scare you to death..

Warnings: Angst; mentions of injury (not very descriptive); Hurt/comfort; No mentioned godly parents for reader.

Requested: Yea

GN Reader!

The last thing you ever expected to see at your door was your very own son of Posiden on the verge of unconciousness.

"Percy?! What the hell happened?" You let out a low grunt when he practcally collapses into your arms.

"I didn't know where else to go." He whispers, shuddering.

You huffed, hauling him into your apartment. Luckily your parent was at work, so you didn't have to worry about explaining anything.

You moved him to the couch as gently as you could, finally taking in the full stretch of his injuries.

"Oh for the love of Zeus, Jackson." You mutter, your heart racing, "Just- sit still. I think I have some ambrosia squares in my room."

"'Kay..." Percy mumbles, his hand pressed tightly to his side while his face was twisted into a grimace.

You rushed to your bedroom, digging around in your bags and drawers until you found the little tupperware container that held your emergency ambrosia.

You then moved to the apartments small bathroom and grabbed as many medical supplies as you could carry.

With your arms full, you ran back to the couch, nearly tripping over the rug in your hurry. You haphazardly drop the bandages and other stuff onto the coffee table, handing Percy afew of the ambrosia squares.

You decided to speed up the process by getting Percy a glass of water, but with the state he was in, he'd still need patched up.

"Were you followed by anything?" You asks quietly, lifting his shirt to clean one of the larger cuts the ambrosia couldn't deal with.

"No, I wouldn't have showed up here if I was." Percy says, setting the now empty glass on the table, "Thanks. For helping me."

"Well I'm not just gonna let you bleed out on my foorstep." You grumble, wrapping his chest, "You're an idiot. Ya know that? What were you thinking? You know what, nevermind. You weren't thinking."

"Aw, are you worried?" Percy asks, seemingly amused at how upset you were.

"Of course I'm worried!" You snap, glaring up at him, watching the amusement fade away. God he was so insufferable. Stupid Percy Jackson and his dumb pretty face.

"You could have died, Percy." You say angrily, pushing alittle harder than you mean to on one of his bruises, "But everythings just so funny! Haha I'm Percy Jackson and I don't care if I get eaten by a friggin' monster! Everything's just dandy!" you rant through gritted teeth, stomping over to the trash can to toss out the bloodied cloth you'd used to clean his wounds.

Percy stares at you for a second, before guiltily looking down at his shoes, "Sorry..." He mutters, "I uh.. didn't mean to freak you out."

"Well mission failed, Percy." You say, before taking a deep breath and sitting next to him on your couch, "I just... dammit- your really important to me, okay? If something happened to you-" You cut off your own sentence, crossing your arms.

"You scared the shit outta me.." You whisper, wiping away the building tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

Percy sits silently for a second, then he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your pressed flush against his chest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, his head tucked away in your shoulder, "I'll... be more careful.. just please don't cry..."

You sniffle, wrapping your arms tightly around him, careful not to irritate any bruises that still remain after the ambrosia. You press your face into his hair, the few tears that escape your eyes getting caught in his black curls.

The two of you sit there like that for gods know how long, just seeking the familiar comfort of each others touch...

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This one took me a minute, but I think it turned out well. Lyn Lapid is the best writing partner ever, her music helps me focus SO MUCH-

#normie writes #pjo #percy x reader fluff #percy x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #percy x gn reader #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy x reader angst #normies prompt event

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braxlrose · 10 months

Note

can you do the headcanons of Tokio Hotel and fem!reader whose main priority is to take care of them? in the sense that she puts their feelings before her own? like lacing their shoes, giving them flowers, making them happy, etc. 😭 literally bro overwhelms them with this tenderness.. fuck..in my head how they randomly walk along the sidewalk and suddenly she crouches and she ties their untied shoe 😭😭 or out of nowhere she gives them a flower because it reminds her of him😭 FUCK OR HOW SHE GIVES THEM DRINK FROM HER DRINK OHM🫡

me with a flower for Bill:

a/n: sorry that this took me so long to get too, but I hope you enjoy this and I hope you feel better!

tokio hotel x f!reader who takes care of them

• the whole band is so grateful for you. you're so sweet to them and are always helping them with stuff even when they didn't ask for it. they don't know what they'd do without you.

• whenever it's cold out, you're basically their mother. you buy them gloves/mittens, hats, jackets, scarves, everything. and you won't let them leave until you know they're warm.

• you will literally stand in the bathroom door and won't let them leave until they've finished brushing their teeth 💀 they complain about it, but at the end of the day, they all have pearly white.

• when they get sick, which isn't often because of you, but you won't leave their sides. you make them soup, and get them medicine, read to them. just sit with them and make sure they get rest.

• bringing them waterbottles after concerts so they aren't dehydrated after being on stage for so long.

• when you guys go on walks you're constantly bending down to tie their shoes because apparently they just lack the ability to do that 💀 they've told you like a million times you don't need to, but the last time you didn't, tom almost fell flat on his face

• you always stop and get them coffees in the morning. and you have their coffee orders memorized down to the last detail.

• sometimes you tire yourself out taking care of them but you can't seem to stop. it just helps you and makes you happy knowing you can take care of someone else and that you can make them feel safe and happy. and it helps you feel needed.

• the guys always thank you for everything you do. they want you to know that they would be nowhere without you helping them.

• because you were taking care of them so much, you forgot to eat all day and ended up passing out. they got so fucking scared. tom, bill and gustav were all freaking out while georg was the only one using common sense 💀 they eventually got you to wake up and they were all apologizing like crazy for taking advantage of everything you do (even though they werent) . and they treated you like a princess for the rest of the week.

• they literally get so happy whenever you cook for them. and bill and tom are really happy whenever you cook them vegetarian meals because he knows you cook other stuff for georg and gustav, so it means a lot to them whenever you go out of your way to make them food.

• they all seem to just suck at packing their bags for when they have to go on flights so they always ask you to help them with packing. you're really good at folding their clothes into their bags and making everything neat and tidy.

• whenever you're at a hotel room, you will make sure their rooms are clean. and by that I mean you will glare at them to death if they leave a plate or food on the floor because you know you'd eventually be picking it up if they didn't. after a while, they learned how to be clean because they felt really bad you were always doing stuff for them.

• you're always comforting bill whenever an interviewer says something about his appearance. or you'll say something to the interviewer.

• "so bill, we've noticed that you're the only one that dresses likethat? Isn't it kind of weird, why don't you just dress like normal?"

• and bill just kind of sits there awkwardly laughing until you're like, "oh you know it's just this crazy thing called he likes his style." in a sarcastic and mocking voice which shuts the interviewer up pretty quick.

• if you're ever out walking and you see a flower you really like you'll always pick some and bring them back to the band

• buying clothes for the band if you see something in a shop they'd really like.

• if they're super tired after a concert, and you guys haven't gone to a party, you'll tuck them all into bed and give them a kiss on the forehead before saying good night.

• you're always making sure to keep an eye on them at parties, making sure they don't drink too much or get into any fights. you usually only have a couple drinks or less because you're the designated driver, but sometimes they can loosen you up and get you to have some more fun if you guys plan on taking an uber.

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz

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jasontoddsmommyissues · 1 year

Text

Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Y/N Henderson’s relationship with Eddie puts her at odds with Jason Carver and co.

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, bullying/harassment, slut shaming, allusions to sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), Jason being a prick, swearing, Reader is Dustin’s sister but no physical descriptions are used and you can read it as an adopted sibling if you want, I think that’s it but let me know if I missed something

A/N: Alright, this is the first Fic I’ve ever posted on here. I’m honestly a little nervous, but hopefully you enjoy. I’ll probably end up posting this on my Ao3 too so I’ll link that at some point.

My Master List | Ao3

—

“I’m gonna miss you”, Eddie whines as he leans against the locker next to yours.

“It’s one class”, you reply as you swap out your English textbook for history, “that’s, what, an hour?”

“Actually I have Davis’s class next so it feels more like three hours”, Eddie says.

You snort. Mr. Davis has probably been around since the dinosaur era, and if there were to be a competition for most boring teacher at Hawkins High, he would win it hands down.

“It’s not funny”, Eddie teasingly pouts, “I might actually die of boredom.”

“As much as I would hate for that to happen, I’ve got my own class to get to, so unfortunately you’re on your own for now,” you reply.

“Alright well, please tell the rest of Hellfire I’m going to miss them”, he tells you, “and feel free to wear that black skirt of yours to the funeral. The tight one. It’s what I would’ve wanted.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re so dramatic”, you say, “I’ll see you later.”

“If I survive that long”, he calls. You shake your head before turning the corner and heading into your history classroom.

“Okay, class”, your teacher, Mr. Price announces once the bell rings, “I’ve written some questions on the board. You’ll find the answers in Chapter 5 of your textbook. Write them down and turn them in by the end of class. You may work with a partner if you’d like.”

You pull your textbook out of your bag and flip to a clean sheet in your notebook. You don’t have any friends in this class, so you figure you may as well just do it yourself and get it over with. That is, until a voice startles you as you’re about to start reading the first page of the chapter.

“Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna work together?”

You blink up at the source of the voice and are pretty sure you must be hallucinating. That’s the only explanation you can think of as to why Jason Carver would be asking you to be his partner.

The two of you have been in the same grade since Kindergarten and you can't think of a single time in all those years that he’s directly acknowledged your existence. The closest thing you have to a connection with him is that your little brother is friends with one of his new Basketball recruits, but you kind of doubt he even knows or cares about that. There’s a few members of his little posse he could be asking to work with him, so you have no clue why he’d be asking you of all people. But, you don’t have anyone else, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess”, you say.

“Great”, he smiles, moving to sit down next to you.

“I’ll get started on number 1”, you suggest, “maybe you can do number 2 and we’ll compare?”

“Sure”, he says sweetly. You’re honestly getting a little freaked out by how friendly he’s being.

You both do your agreed upon work, and then switch off to show each other your answers.

“So?” you ask when he’s finished reading yours, “does that seem right?”

“Yeah”, he replies, “you’re good at this. You ever thought about being a tutor?”

“Oh, no, not really”, you say.

“See, I just ask because our youth group has this program where some of us older members help the younger kids out after school and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool”, you tell him, not really engaged the conversation. It all sounds well and good, but you really aren’t interested in being a tutor at the moment.

“You know, the church has a lot of great programs”, Jason continues, and you’re not sure what any of this has to do with the Byzantine empire, which is what you’re supposed to be discussing.

“Okay”, you say.

“They do a lot of outreach, a lot of stuff to help people who have lost their way.”

“Lost their way?” you inquire, a small part of you beginning to understand what’s actually going on.

“Yeah. You know. Made bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong people.”

“Um, I think we should just get back to the assignment”, you suggest, uncomfortable with the discussion and not wanting it to go any further.

“Look”, Jason sighs, “what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a nice girl. I’d hate to see you go down a bad path.”

Okay. You get it now, and it’s starting to piss you off.

“Thank you, but I’m doing just fine”, you insist.

“You’ve been hanging around with Eddie Munson”, Jason says, as if it’s some scandalous secret and not just you spending time with your boyfriend, “you really shouldn’t do that, you know…”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded he would just up and say such a thing to you.

“You can’t be serious…”, you say.

Jason leans in to you, a deadly serious expression on his face.

“I’ve heard about guys like him before”, he tells you, “I know the stuff they’re into.”

Yeah, so do you. It’s tabletop role playing games, which is about the least nefarious activity you could possibly think of. Jason clearly doesn’t see it that way, though, because he’s still going on.

“And I know they like to lure innocent people like you into their little organizations. I’m telling you, Munson is bad news. You should stay away before you get hurt.”

You seriously have to hold yourself back from laughing right in Jason’s face. You’re not sure what reality he’s living in, but it clearly isn’t the same one you are. Last weekend, you and Eddie had watched Terms of Endearment and he’d started to cry (well started tearing up at least, even sniffled a little, though he vehemently denied it). There’s not a single situation in which you can ever imagine him causing you intentional harm.

“Okay, you know what”, you say, “I think I’m gonna finish the rest of the assignment alone, thanks.”

Jason grabs your arm gently but firmly. “I’m serious, Y/N. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him before you end up hurt or killed.”

You’re really not sure what the most offensive part of all this is. It’s either that Jason thinks that somehow Eddie Munson, your lovable dork of a boyfriend,is secretly an evil Satanist cult leader, or that you’re apparently too stupid or naive to make that kind of judgment for yourself. Maybe it’s that he volunteered to work with you on an assignment and acted all friendly with you just so he could get this opportunity to preach to you about your supposedly “dangerous” lifestyle. He’s never given you the time of day before, after all.

“I don’t know what it is you think you see in him, but I promise you it’s not going to end well.”

You snort. Is he, what, jealous or something? He’s got a girlfriend, after all, and plenty of other girls who’d be willing to take her place if she were to leave him. It’s kind of sad that he’s apparently so insecure that the mere thought of Eddie Munson getting female attention is enough to have him losing his shit like this.

“Whatever”, you spit, “just leave me alone.”

He glares at you, but ultimately turns his attention to his textbook and doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the class.

You happily shove the encounter out of your mind once the bell rings. You’re perfectly content with the social circle you keep, and you’re not going to let some jock with an inflated sense of self importance change that.

Jason apparently doesn’t do the same because he spends lunch glaring at you from his table. Granted, him shooting disgusted looks in the general direction of the Hellfire Club is a regular occurance, but today he’s making it obvious his ire is directed specifically at you.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Eddie asks.

“I dunno”, you shrug, “he’s just an asshole.”

Eddie peers at him for a moment and you can see a familiar glint of mischief twinkle in his eye. Before you can comment, he’s dramatically pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to Jason and company.

“What do you want?” Jason demands.

“Couldn’t help but notice you staring”, Eddie says, “just wanted to let you know that I’m flattered, but unfortunately you aren’t really my type. Sorry.”

“Fuck off”, Jason barks, “disgusting freak.”

“Don’t take it too hard”, Eddie says, giving him a joking pat on the shoulder before making his way back over to you. You stifle a laugh at the indignant look plastered on Jason’s face. Eddie shoots you a proud grin and you shake your head affectionately. Jason clearly doesn’t know shit about “guys like Eddie.”

The next few days pass by uneventfully. Jason doesn’t try talking to you again, which you’re thankful for. Wednesday starts out normally, you go to history, and Jason roundly ignores your presence. Then you have to go to your next class, which is gym.

Definitely not a favorite of yours, and you don’t even have Eddie in your class to ease the pain. You make it through your warm ups, and then the coach has you split up to practice your volleyball serves. Everything’s going well until Andy, one of Jason’s buddies, approaches you out of nowhere.

“Hey, Henderson”, he says, a smirk on his face, “you think you could score me some weed?”

You look at him, confused. You don’t get involved in Eddie’s side hustle, so you’re not sure why he’d ask you.

“What?”

“Oh, I just figured you probably get a good discount”, he goes on, “I mean, that’s why you let Munson fuck you, right?”

You freeze in shock, your cheeks starting to grow hot. You can’t say you’re used to people making comments about your sex life, especially not to your face.

“I mean, I gotta say”, Andy continues, a cruel glint in his eye, “I didn’t take you for a slut. But come on. Spreading your legs for that freak? Jesus, that’s sad. You know, I’d be happy to show you a good time, since you’re so desperate for it.”

You can only stand there, mouth agape. Sure, you’ve gotten a gross comment or two from a male classmate before, but nothing like this. You certainly have never been called a slut before. You try to formulate a response, but you can’t come up with one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the coach’s whistle rings out, signaling for you all to hit the changing rooms. You dash out of the gym, more than pleased to be away from Andy.

You hop in the shower in the locker room, take a few moments to shake off the discomfort of the interaction. You’re not entirely successful in that endeavor, because it keeps playing in your mind even after you’re dressed and making your way back into the hallways.

You have no idea where the hell Andy came up with all of that. At this point, it’s common knowledge that you and Eddie are dating, but you don’t know where this idea that you’re sleeping with him for drugs came from. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Hey, Beautiful”, you’re distracted from your thoughts by Eddie, who comes happily bounding over to you. His face falls when he sees the look on your face though.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine”, you say. Something about the idea of telling Eddie about what happened leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s embarrassing, and you definitely don’t want him to feel like it’s somehow his fault that Jason and Andy are giving you a hard time.

Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once again, nothing they say about you or Eddie is true. You can’t let some stupid jocks get to you.

Honestly, you probably could’ve been okay, if that was the end of it. Unfortunately, things only get worse the next day.

As you make your way to your seat in history, you catch sight of Amber and Samantha, two cheerleaders who like to hang around Jason and the others, whispering as you walk by.

You ignore them, figuring you’re being paranoid and they probably aren’t even talking about you, but when you sit down, Amber turns and looks you right in the eye.

She raises her voice then, clearly intending for you to hear what she’s saying.

“I hope she’s gotten tested”, she tells Samantha, “I can’t imagine what nasty shit the Freak is passing on to her.”

You take a deep breath, turning away from her.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, it’s not true.

“I hope the drugs are worth it,” Samantha says.

You clench your jaw as you slip into your seat. It shouldn’t bother you so much. It's not true, and even if it were, who cares what Amber and Samantha have to say about it?

You’re dating Eddie because you like him. You like the way he’s always joking around and making you laugh, you like that he makes a point of looking out for Dustin and his friends, you like the way he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes and flashes that mischievous grin. Cheap access to his drugs has never even crossed your mind.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with what they say, you know that, but hearing your name in connection with “slut” grinds at you.

During gym class, you do your best to avoid Andy, because everytime he notices you looking at him, he’s making some suggestive gesture at you. You don’t bother telling anyone about it, since Andy’s on the basketball team and the coach would probably take his side.

In the hallway, you accidentally bump into Patrick from the basketball team. You mutter an apology, which he accepts, but his girlfriend gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t talk to her”, you hear her tell him as you walk away, “she’s a slut.”

All of the gossip has put you in a foul mood by the time you get to your second to last period of the day, which happens to be study hall.

Like always, it’s in the cafeteria, with you and a bunch of other students of varying grade levels all sitting around doing your homework. Technically, you’re not supposed to talk, but the teacher in charge is way too underpaid to worry about enforcing that, so you can usually get away with conversation as long as things don’t get too rowdy.

You’re not taking advantage of that today, rather trying your best to distract yourself by actually doing your homework. You’re halfway through summarizing Act 3 of Hamlet when you hear someone say your name.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You’re confused when you look up to find Lucas standing there. Technically, you’ve known him for years, but it’s not like you’ve ever associated with him outside the time he spends with Dustin.

“What?” you ask, a little meaner than you mean to.

“I just thought you should know that…well, I think Jason has been going around saying things about you.”

Of course. You should’ve known Jason was behind this. Jason fucking Carver. Captain of the Basketball Team. Active member of the local church. Son of one of the most respected families in Hawkins. He’s clearly used to people listening to whatever he has to say. Apparently, his ego couldn’t handle you dismissing his comments about your relationship with Eddie.

Jesus, you’d always known he was a bit of an asshole, but this is a level of pettiness you’d never expected, even from him.

“Don’t tell him I told you”, Lucas adds, “but I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you”, you say. You’re definitely glad to have that piece of information.

The next day, you storm into Mr. Price’s classroom with righteous fury coursing through your veins. You bypass your desk and instead march straight up to Jason.

He pauses his conversation with Andy and Samantha when he sees you approach.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You demand.

“Excuse me?” Jason asks.

“I know you’ve been starting rumors about me”, you tell him, “what exactly is your problem, Jason?”

“Me? I don’t have a problem”, Jason insists, “I just think it’s fair the men of Hawkins High get a warning about your ‘extracurricular’ activities.”

You can feel heat flood your cheeks.

“You’re a dick, Jason!” you hiss.

“You know, Y/N”, Jason retorts, “I actually feel bad for you. I mean, no decent man is ever going to want you when they find out you’ve been giving it up to some trailer trash freak.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you snap.

“Believe me, I know exactly what happens to girls who hang around with filthy, Satan-worshiping scumbags”, he says, “and you know what? I’m not going to feel sorry for you when they’re finding your body dumped in the woods.”

“Get over yourself!”

“Whatever”, Jason shakes his head, “I’m not gonna take the attitude from some little slut.”

You’re not fully in control of yourself during what happens next. One second you’re standing there listening to Jason degrade you, the next your fist is connecting with his face.

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before opening his mouth to say something. He doesn’t get the chance though, because Mr. Price gets to it first.

“Ms. Henderson”, he gasps, “Mr. Carver, what on earth is going on here?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason spits accusingly.

“I-I…I’m sorry I…”

“Enough”, Mr. Price sighs, “I want both of you going to the principal’s office right now!”

You’re in deep shit. That much is immediately clear. You punched Jason Carver in the face. It’s not like you even claim it was self defense, since he didn’t do anything physical to you.

“So”, Principal Higgins sighs, “tell me what happened again?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason hisses.

“Is that true?”

“Yes”, you sigh, “but he called me a slut.”

Principal Higgins rubs his temple, processing the information. Meanwhile, Jason’s gaze is fixed firmly on you, his eyes full of hatred.

“Mr. Carver”, Higgins says finally, “that is not appropriate language to use in regards to another student. You may go back to class, but I better not hear about something like this again.”

Jason stands and marches out of the office, as if he has a right to be pissed about Higgins’ scolding. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he gets a slap on the wrist. Nobody wants to punish the star basketball player. You’re certain that if it were anyone else, Eddie or Dustin or one of the other Hellfire Club members, they definitely wouldn’t be getting off so easily.

“Now, as for you Ms. Henderson”, Higgins says, “we do not allow for any sort of violence in this school. However, in all your years at this school, you have never had to receive any form of discipline. So I’m willing to be flexible here. Normally, something like this could be grounds for suspension, but since this is your first time, I say it’s two weeks detention after school starting next Monday. Does that sound fair to you?”

Not really, no, but you can’t say that.

“Yes”, you reply instead.

“Alright. Good. Now go back to class. And Ms. Henderson, I sincerely hope I won’t have to see you in my office again.”

You’re in a bad mood when Mr. Price’s class finally ends. You’ve gone your entire high school career without getting a detention and now you’ve ruined that over some pompous dick bag. Speaking of, Jason has been staring daggers at you since you returned to class, and is continuing to do so even now as you’re leaving.

There’s a tense, awkward moment where you both stand there in the hallway, glaring at each other, but it’s broken when the force of a body colliding with your back almost takes you off your feet. Jason is forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Eddie”, you huff playfully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asks as you turn around to face him.

“Cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself, Munson”, you reply.

“Don’t blame me”, he replies, “you know I’m powerless to resist your charms.”

Before you can reply he’s pulling you close and beginning to press kisses to your cheek. You know the two of you are making a scene, and on any other day you might be a little self conscious about it, but today you’re just glad to have him around.

His kisses stop suddenly and you realize he’s stopped because he’s finally noticed Jason’s hateful glaring. Unfazed as always, he just flashes a cocky smile and gives Jason a mocking impression of a friendly wave. Jason makes a face like he’s wishing for both you and Eddie’s violent deaths.

“Geez”, Eddie comments, “he looks pissed.”

“Um, yeah, probably because I punched him in the face”, you mutter.

Eddie’s eyes widen in obvious surprise.

“He had it coming”, you add, “he was being a Dick.”

You know you don’t have to defend yourself to Eddie. He knows better than anyone how nasty Jason can be.

“My, my, Fair Lady Henderson”, he smiles, “I dare say that was very Metal of you.”

“Yeah, well, Higgins didn’t think so”, you reply, “I got two weeks detention for it.”

“Ol’ Higgins never did have a sense of humor”, Eddie says, “but from where I’m standing, you’re basically a hero.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah”, Eddie tells you, “Jason and his goons have been making our lives miserable for years.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re definitely not happy with the day’s events, but knowing Eddie’s on your side makes it a little more bearable.

On Monday you begrudgingly make your way to Mrs. Cline’s room for your first day of detention.

“Ms. Henderson?” she asks when you walk in.

“Yeah”, you say, a little embarrassed.

“Wonderful”, she says, checking your name off of a list in front of her, “please take a seat.”

There’s only two other people in there with you, so you just pick a seat as far from them as possible and sit down.

“Alright”, Mrs. Cline says, “looks like everyone’s here except…”

“I’m here.”

You look up in surprise to see Eddie come walking into the room.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Munson”, Mrs. Cline says dryly, “what a surprise. Please take a seat.”

You know that Eddie isn’t a stranger to detention, but it’s weird that he didn’t mention anything to you when you’d told him about it. He walks over to the desk next to yours, looking way too pleased for someone who’s about to serve a stint in detention.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Oh, you know, got caught vandalizing the boy’s locker room during free period”, he tells you.

“What? When?”

“Friday”, he says with a satisfied smirk.

You frown. This must’ve happened after the whole Jason thing on Friday which means…

Which means Eddie did it knowing that you were also going to be in detention.

“Eddie”, you say, “did you get detention just because I did?”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” he grins.

You can’t help but smile along with him.

“Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson”, Mrs. Cline calls from her desk, “no talking during detention.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips and waits until Mrs. Cline looks away before giving you a playful wink. You stifle a giggle.

You don’t know Jason all that well, but you’re pretty sure he would never dream of landing himself in detention just to keep his girlfriend company. You’ve never seen him make a scene in the middle of the hallways to get her to smile. That’s the thing about this that really gets under your skin. Jason and the others don’t know shit. They think that just because Eddie doesn’t fall into their narrow definition of “acceptable”, he must be scary and dangerous. They think that just because you’re not afraid of him, you must be dirty and corrupted. They’re too close-minded to look closer and see that Eddie is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever imagine, that you spend time with him because he makes you happy. They’d rather write him off as a freak and you off as a slut than accept that maybe their perception is wrong.

You’re far from being a violent person, but you can’t say you regret what you did. Jason deserved to be put in his place, and it’s not like you did any serious damage to him anyway. You’re glad you stood up for yourself, for Eddie. You’ve probably tacked “psycho bitch” onto your already unflattering “whore” reputation, but at this point, you’re not sure you care. If being a freak means you get to spend your days with the love of your life, you will gladly accept that label.

After the designated two hours are up, Mrs. Cline dismisses you all.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad”, you say as you and Eddie start making your way through the hall.

“Nah”, he replies, “I mean it’s boring but it’s not bad.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not planning on having to do this again”, you continue, “but it’s bearable.”

Eddie nods.

“I’m sorry, by the way”, he adds.

“For what?”

“Jason and the others. They’ve been giving you a hard time, right?”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “it is what it is. Not your fault.”

“I mean it kind of is”, Eddie replies, “they’re only doing it because you’re dating me.”

“Eddie”, you say, “Jason’s an asshole, okay? That’s not on you. If he can’t handle our relationship, then fuck him.”

That gets a grin out of Eddie.

“You know, you’re getting to be quite a rabble rouser, Henderson”, he jokes.

“I’m learning from the best”, you tease back.

Eddie’s smile widens. He follows you out to your car and then presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow, Sweetheart”, he says and then heads off to his van. You watch him go, butterflies still lingering in your tummy from the contact.

If you’d actually had any doubts about Eddie, they would’ve disappeared in that moment. That feeling, it’s a one of a kind thing. No one’s ever managed to give it to you before, and you’re not sure anyone else ever will. You love Eddie. He loves you. He’s sweet, and silly and he treats you right. If your peers want to believe a bunch of bullshit about you two, then let them. You know what you have, and you’re not going to let them ruin it for you.

Grinning to yourself, you hop in your car, put the Black Sabbath tape you borrowed from Eddie into the player and head home.

848 notes · View notes

thelovelylolly · 6 months

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hey hey 🫶🫶

i saw ur requests were open so i thought eh why not 😚😚 can i plss get an eddie x like a hippie reader?? like crystals, stevie nicks, tarot cards the works yk??

tyyy 🩷🩷

Crystal Chick

Summary: Eddie, the metalhead and freak, has a crush on you, the resident hippie of Hawkins High. Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns are used), reader is described as shorter than eddie, let me know if i missed any! Notes: ive recently gotten into crystals and tarot, so i love this request! im not like a full on hippie, but im definitely leaning towards it lol

"Wait, wait, wait, you like the crystal chick?"

Eddie grumbled and looked away to hide his blush. His friends, the Hellfire Club, just put two and two together and he knew they were gonna tease him. He noticed you on the first day of school, driving by him with Stevie Nicks blaring from your car. Since then, you've always caught his eye whether you knew it or not.

"She's not just a crystal chick, Mike," Eddie answered, glaring at Mike and the rest of the table. "She's a hippie, I think."

"That means she's a crystal chick."

"Does it matter? Eddie Munson likes a hippie!" Dustin added.

Eddie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

He remembered when you two first talked. You were in the theater room, where Hellfire is usually hosted, and you were doing a tarot reading. Eddie walked in and you looked up at him, a little upset that he messed with your reading.

"Can I help you?" You had asked him, already collecting the crystals and cards you had laid out.

"Oh, uh, my club meets here..." Eddie answered, trailing off as you stood up.

Your outfit was eclectic, but flowy. You had stacks of necklaces on, some with moons and suns, other with crystals. Your rings were the same, you had on bangles and your earrings dangled low. You put your things in your patched up bag and stood in front of him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"You a metalhead or something?" You asked, looking up at him with your hands on your hips.

"Are you a hippie or something?" He countered, a smile pulling at his lips.

You smirked before walking past him and calling back, "see ya around."

With that, you were gone and Eddie had a crush on you.

"Hey, look! Here she comes!" Dustin said a bit too loudly, breaking Eddie from his flashback.

You walked past the Hellfire table with your patched up bag slung over arm and your lunch bag in your hand. You had on beat-up bellbottom jeans with a flowy top that tied in the front, and you had on your usual eclectic accessories. You glanced at Eddie as you passed by then continued to your usual spot.

The other guys went crazy when they saw you look at Eddie, who was still watching you as you reached your spot in the corner of the cafeteria and sat down.

"You should go talk to her!" Dustin eagerly suggested, the others agreeing with him.

Eddie shook his head, picking at his food as a distraction. "No, I...I don't think she would like me. I'm not her type."

"How do you know that?" Gareth asked.

"Have you seen her? She's beautiful and her style is so cool, plus she's pretty smart to remember all those crystals and cards and stuff. I'm just, y'know, me."

"Boo! Enough self-doubt, just go try! You don't know what's gonna happen," Dustin replied.

Eddie thought about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Pros: you'd actually like him back or at least want to be friends with him. Cons: he embarrasses himself and further cements his place as a freak. But he didn't really care. He sighed and got up, the rest of the guys cheering as they watched him walk over to you.

You were picking at your food and reading a book with crystals on the torn up cover. You heard Eddie's footsteps as he got closer and looked up. You closed your book and leaned forward when he sat across from you.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied, a small smile on his face. Since your first interaction with him, you found out that Eddie Munson was the school freak and the leader of the D&D club. You also found out that he was in fact a metal head and was in a band. You wanted to talk to him more, but you never found a good time.

"I, uh, I saw you walk over here and thought I'd join you," Eddie started, then quickly added, "but I can go if you want to be left alone. I don't want to intrude or anything."

You giggled at his awkwardness. "You can stay. I don't mind, Eddie."

"Okay, cool..."

You two were quiet for a few minutes, the rest of the chatter from the cafeteria keeping it from being too awkward. You noticed how he fidgeted with his rings, a habit you have yourself. You smiled and covered his hands with yours, stopping his fidgeting and causing him to look at you with blush on his cheeks.

"You have a question for me, don't you?" You asked.

"H-how'd you know?" He replied, not pulling his hands away from you.

"I had a feeling," you answered, "and maybe my cards told me."

Eddie laughed. "Well, uh, I was just wondering...would you wanna hang out with me sometime?"

"I would love to," you said, "I was gonna ask you the same thing but I never found the right time."

"Great, um, would you wanna meet after school? I know this spot where we can hang out and it's just by the football field. Maybe you could give me a tarot reading?"

You giggled. "Sounds like a plan."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fan fic #strangers things fanfiction

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reds-writings · 3 months

Text

rust cohle headcanons pt. 2

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: some more rust thoughts for public consumption. bon appetit.

word count: 1.5k ish (she got a bit carried away oops)

warnings: lil nsfw but other than that not much (let me know if there's anything else! minors get lost!)

thinking about the fact that he didn’t really have access to television until he was 17

you get a kick out of making any pop culture references that occurred before the year 1981 because chances are they’ll go right over his head

it wouldn’t be surprising if most pop culture hubbub wasn’t in his realm of extensive knowledge given that he really only sets aside any free time he has for reading or contemplating whatever anarchic thoughts are running rampant in his head that day

you don’t find yourself in his apartment all that often given that it doesn’t exactly hold the vibe of something straight out of a home & garden catalog

he also feels something along the lines of self-consciousness when you’re exposed to the eerie emptiness of his space (the printed pictures and erratically scribbled notes/diagrams he has stuck up on his wall from active cases don’t help)

it’s not something you necessarily judge him for, it just makes you feel a twinge of sadness to see that he only allows himself the bare minimum levels of ‘comfort’ just to get by

as your relationship grows a bit more steady he finds himself at your place more than his own anyway (he tries to do most of his work at work as much as he can the longer he’s with you so things can be more effectively separated for the sake of his own consolation more than your own)

he doesn’t leave much of a trail behind himself but to the trained eye, signs of him had steadily built up over time in your home

a cheesy ‘don’t mess with texas’ mug in your cabinet you nabbed for him as a joke from an antique store in town or an old crystal ashtray set out on the front porch railing for when he needed a smoke (one by the window in your bedroom too for whenever you felt benevolent enough to let him smoke on your windowsill late at night)

there was also the growing plethora of his daily attire manifesting alongside your own clothes in your closet and dressers (find yourself wearing any of his stuff and he’s POUNCIN’)

a few scattered men’s products in the bathroom (he’s a straight razor kind of guy cause he seems like a meticulous self-groomer in that way and he has some hair products that would have Marty in a tizzy)

speaking of the straight razor, sometimes you’ll be the one to throw in the flag when he’s too busy to shave (not that any stubble on him is unsexy but the smoothly-shaven feel of his face remains superior for a number of reasons)

you’ll have him sit his butt down so you can straddle him to get rid of the culprit of the growing frictional burns on your face, neck, and thighs. a sacrifice made for the greater good.

makes for some great foreplay nearly every time (lil freaks)

there’s also an extra pack of american spirits you keep in one of your bedside drawers for whenever he runs out or forgets his own

he doesn’t ever make a big deal out of his birthday. meaning he does everything in his power to avoid acknowledging it and just goes about his day like normal. but ever since you got the date out of Marty you never let it go by without doing something to make the day special

this isn’t to say you cross any major boundaries or throw any huge celebrations he’d absolutely loathe

it meant small outings to dinner (or whatever that could get him out of the house for a bit if he wasn’t working) or little meaningful gifts waiting for him whenever you had the time to see each other if he happened to be on the job

you just wanted to imprint something about the day that didn’t leave him so passive or resentful that he lived to see another year in his life. that his existence didn’t have to mean much to anyone or himself but it absolutely meant something to you

Rust awoke in the warmth of your bed to the sight of a dreary day taking place outside. The outline of your figure on the empty half of the bed struck him only slightly suspicious. You weren’t known for being an early riser in any sense of the phrase but the smell of food drifting upstairs gave him an inclination of why you weren’t in your usual curled-up spot beside him at this hour.

Drifting his gaze slightly, the sight of a blue frosted cupcake on his side’s nightstand with a cigarette instead of a candle stuck in it as a crude joke had the corner of his mouth quirking faintly. One way or another, it was apparent you’d find a way to make the date of his birth as digestible for him as you could each year it passed. He remembered just how offended you’d gotten around the time you first got together and discovered his birthday was coming up soon while he’d had no intention of making you aware of it in the first place. Ever since then, you’d made it a sworn mission of yours to celebrate his birthday in some way shape, or form, always keeping it small with his limits in mind.

Making his descent down the stairs of your old home, he could hear the growing sounds of Fleetwood Mac paired with your soft humming. Once he finally rounded the corner to come into view of the kitchen there stood the vision of your swaying figure, drowning in some old Budweiser shirt while flipping over pancakes at the stove.

“Is that you, birthday boy?” The teasing call followed by a quick look over your shoulder had him jumping slightly out of his daze.

“You feedin’ just us or a small village out in the world somewhere?” He quipped as he took in the array of food you’d managed to prepare in the time you’d been awake.

“I was restless and didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for so I just went ahead and made a lil’ bit of everything. Whatever we don’t scarf down I can take on over to Lou’s down the road,” Was your breezy answer before you paused to point the spatula at him, “she called yesterday sayin’ she had a small somethin’ for you so when we go you’re gonna accept whatever it is with a grin and grateful attitude.”

“Lou’s one of the more tolerable people who happens to take residence in this miserable state.”

“Yeah, but you still get that constipated look on your face whenever someone else tries doing somethin’ nice for you. Thus my warning.” The look you had was more cheeky than anything as you finished up your last set of pancakes and moved them over to a bigger plate alongside the rest of the food.

“No presents this year?” He hummed as he watched you busy your way around the kitchen.

“Geez! I’ve made you greedy over the years, haven’t I? I was hopin’ to go out into town for a bit if the weather ain’t too crazy. Any presents I’ve got for you, mister, are gonna wait til’ later. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” An amused huff left his nose.

for your birthdays Marty’s the one to help Rust in planning the bigger stuff (should you want it) given that you had a bit more friends than he did who wanted nothing more than to celebrate you and have fun

you reassured him every year that you were fine with keeping it on the simple side and just spending the day with him while just chilling out (he did not listen)

he’s very much a gift giver in the sense that he’ll be out and see something random only to bring it back home and casually be like ‘thought you’d like this’ then leave it at that

you love your little collection of gifts and trinkets from the grump

even if most don’t see it in him, he’s the biggest giver you’ve ever met

he doesn’t seek any praise or reward for the silently selfless acts he finds himself committing for you and he carries them out as if they were all completely normal (he has an underlying thing for praise in the sheets though, don’t let him lie. he’ll crumble within seconds at any soft utterings of how good he is or how much you need him)

you get comfortable with ambushing him with random bursts of affection every now and then later down the line and he just sits there and takes it (mans enjoys it don’t let him lie about that either)

you’re more outwardly flirty/touchy with him in general (of course taking into account whether or not he appears to be in the mood for any of that at the given moment)

saying things like ‘there’s my dashin’ cowboy!’ or ‘the ladies of louisiana are gonna try and send me packin’ now that i’ve got you locked down!’ just to see him caught off guard

photos of him are few and far in between, let alone of you two together, but he does find himself taking more photos of just you (innocent and not so innocent)

he just wants to memorize any and all details of you! sue him!

a/n: just you wait until i start pulling out the sad old man rust fics cause i'm obsessed with that era too. ponytail defender til i die !

#reds-writings #rust cohle imagine #rust cohle x reader #true detective imagine #true detective season 1 #true detective #rust cohle #rust cohle headcanons #matthew mcconaughey

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