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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 7 months

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Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk.

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate?

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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leahluvr · 8 months

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comfy - leah williamson x reader

genre: fluff, petty argument

warnings: none

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being only a newer member of arsenals club, you and leah hadn’t taken the opportunity to get close with each other. though every attempt you made to interact with the older girl was often unsuccessful.

so, when the two of you got paired to be roomies in the hotel for a champions league match, your heart dropped.

the thought of sleeping in the same room as leah terrified you, though reassured by the assumption that you’d be sleeping in seperate, single beds.

as you and the rest of the crew stepped off the team bus and entered the hotel, there was excitement and exhaustion mixed in equal parts. the short transitions between the super and champion league matches were draining on the body and all anyone needed after a flight was a good rest. the anticipation of the tournaments kickoff was exhilarating, but a long day of travel had taken its toll.

it was a quiet walk from checking in, catching the elevator and bidding ‘goodnights’ to your other team mates. your hands trembled with anxiety, the silence around leah creating an almost panic-inducing feeling. you were worried you’d make a fool of yourself infront of the england captain.

when you arrived at your room, you both exchanged glances, realising that the room clearly was set up for a couple, not two teammates. the room had only a couch and a queen-sized bed.

leah was quick to offer a solution.

“you can take the bed, i’ll be fine on the couch,” she rushed, “it’s not big deal. you probably want to be comfortable.”

“leah, no i’ll take the couch, you need it.”

“absolutely not. your comfort comes first.”

you took surprise in her stern tone, not daring to talk back. you took her word, as much as you hated and took your respective place on the bed.

as time passed, an awkward silence hung in the air, you could tell leah was struggling to find comfort on the couch, shifting and fidgeting as she fiddled with her phone.

leah continued to shuffle in her spot making quiet grumbling noises, clearly frustrated by the discomfort of the sofa.

“i’m heading in the shower.” leah stated, walking towards the bathroom.

“oh, okay well i might go to bed now, goodnight,” you say timidly.

“night,” she gently smiles.

determined to prioritise her comfort, you made a decision. while leah showered, you moved from the bed down the couch where leah has been laying. your intention was to make sure she could sleep soundly before match day -1.

when leah returned to the room, she noticed you were no longer in the bed. you laid on the couch eyes closed, attempting to fall asleep. her brows furrowed with concern as she walked around, seeing your body curled up on the couch.

“what are you doing?” she asked, quite bluntly.

you shifted uncomfortably, feeling guilty.

"i noticed you were having trouble on the couch, i didn’t want you to be uncomfortable," you confessed, "so, i thought i'd take the couch instead to make sure you can sleep well."

"you don’t have to do that," she said, her voice gentle as her expression softened.

"leah," you insisted, "you deserve the queen bed. it's the least i can do."

"nah sweet, can't let you sleep on that couch. you're my teammate, and i want you to be well-rested for training. don’t worry about me, look after your young body while you can."

“leah, let’s be real, i’m going to be benched for the whole game, meaning i won’t really be necessary during training tomorrow.” you say quietly, voice tinging with uncertainty, “you’re like the most important player on the team.”

“yn, you’re part of the team, your presence matters,” she reassures, “whether you’re on the pitch or not, you’re important, the girls love you.”

“how can anyone like me? i don’t really have anyone i can talk to.”

“you’re new darling, you’ll get to know everyone soon enough,” she shook her head, “and you have me. you can talk to me, yn.”

she looks you with genuine eyes and gives out a lending hand to help you up from the couch. you feel flustered the way her warm skin gently comes into contact with yours. the back and forth of each of you trying to outdo the other in selflessness had ended. rather exhaustion and the realisation that you both just wanted to be comfortable, overshadowed the argument.

“let’s just sleep in the queen together, no harm done.”

you get comfortable in bed but keep a safe distance away from leah, being careful not to make her feel uncomfortable.

a long night passes as morning arrives. when your eyes crack open you notice you feel quite hot. leah is glued to you her head buried in your chest, legs intertwined with yours. her sun kissed blonde hair is splays across your arm and the bed.

in shock you flinch away, moving away in precision, trying not to wake the older girl up. but due to the feeling of movement, leah makes a quiet mumbling sound hugging you closer and nestling her face deeper into your neck.

you didn’t know how you were going to get out of this one.

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an: this is so BORING AHAHAHHA

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #arsenal wfc #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson

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g3tosugu · 4 months

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can’t get enough

wriothesley x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

cw: reader is neglecting their health, fainting and i think that's it, but please do tell me if i missed one!

synopsis: you pick up an extra shift at Cafe Lutece but, it proves to be too much on your body as you continue neglecting your needs and Wriothesley is there to figure out why.

a/n: eeek! first post hope u like it :3c i've never written genshin stuff before which is why this is kinda short lol so please forgive me if it's not that good!!

Picking up another shift at Cafe Lutece whilst you were in the middle of prepping and training to begin work at the Fortress of Meropide was probably not the best decision you have ever made in your life. You could have easily quit your job or asked for more leniency with your scheduling and Arouet would surely understand if you explained the situation you were in. The only issue with that was you didn't want to also put him in the tight spot of having to find a replacement, especially since the Cafe was already short staffed at the current time. And now, you have decided to overwork yourself more.

The place was absolutely jam packed with people. There was a pretty intensive trial that was held today and the people who attended were starving and eager to chat about the turnout of the trial over a meal. You're not sure why you set yourself up for disappointment when you convinced yourself it wouldn't be too busy because of the rain. Instead of being a nice regular 8 hour shift, you instead were met with a very busy and never ending 10 hour shift. When you arrived an hour earlier to the Cafe today you had no idea that extra hour of leisure time was going to be something that was so vital. Too late now. You finish your shift as efficiently as you possibly could with what little energy you had left in your system.

As you exited the building, you were met by Arouet who had been out saying his farewells to the final customers of the evening. "Thank you so much again for all your help today Y/n! I really don't know what I would have done without you" he thanked you with a warm smile. You tried your best to muster a more enthusiastic response, but all you could bring yourself to do is give him a tired smile and say "Don't worry about it, boss. It's my pleasure to help you as you have helped me by giving me this job".

When you moved to Fontaine from your home of Monstadt you didn't have anything. Sure, you had your bag you had packed with things of sentimental value and some clothing but, that was it. You couldn't even bring mora with you because you had none to your name due to never having to work back in Monstadt. Your family had always taken care of you. So when you were telling them about you moving so far away, they tried to give you basic starter funds but you declined. You even lied and told them you had some mora saved from doing favors and chores for other people (usually older people) just so they wouldn't worry further. With your lack of job experience and no funds or place to go, Arouet saw how determined you were to make the most out of your situation and decided to give you a job as a waitress.

Arouet studied your face for a moment before giving a sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a nice relaxing evening and you deserve it. Go home and be safe and please take the day off tomorrow" he gently patted your shoulder. The sudden contact and thought that you get a whole day off the next day made you perk up a little more, "Oh, thank you so much, boss! I will and same to you as well, of course. I just have somewhere to stop and then I will go home for the night".

The first few times you entered the Fortress of Meropide it was a very nerve wracking experience. You had no idea if it was a rowdy and rugged environment or a serious and strict one. But, you soon realized it wasn't as horrific and terrible as you initially thought it would be. Regardless, it was still to be considered a dangerous environment. Thankfully, with Wriothesley around, you never felt like you needed to worry.

As the guards walked you up to the large metal doors to the Duke's office, you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the cafeteria area. "Y/n! Wait!" she ran up to you enthusiastically. "Hello Sigewinne" you patted the half Melusine girl on the head and smiled at her. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were stopping by since you seemed to be working late" she smiled up at you, but everything started to feel fuzzy. Your eyelids became harder to keep open, your vision was going in and out of focus and you started seeing spots. "Y/n?" Sigewinne called out to you, worried by your lack of response and the way you were looking physically. Before you could give her the reassurance you so desperately wanted to, you collapsed to the ground.

"Y/n! Oh no..." Sigewinne quickly walked to your side and began trying to rouse you awake. The guards that were with you quickly clamored around you to protect you from any onlookers. In the midst of the sudden event, the loud metal doors to the Dukes office opened and out came Wriothesley. "What's all the commotion out here about?", his eyes searched for just a split second before they landed on Sigewinne standing over your unconscious form with a very troubled look on her face. "Everyone move" Wriothesley ordered the guards and they immediately met his demand in return. He quickly knelt down and picked you up bridal style and started carrying you towards his office. "Wait! We need to take her to the infirmary so I can perform a proper check up!" Sigewinne tried to stop him. "You can treat her in here can't you? I don't want her out here. I want to be able to keep an eye on her" his gaze was serious and his jaw was set. He was clearly fully intent on doing this, so Sigewinne just sighed and nodded in response as she followed him into his office.

Your eyes fluttered open and you searched around your environment to try and decipher where you had ended up. Wriothesley's office. "You're awake?" you heard Wriothesley rise from his chair and walk around his desk. You slowly began to sit up and when your eyes met his, you looked away in embarrassment. You knew Sigewinne checked your condition and told him you were neglecting your needs. You had hardly eaten and you weren't sleeping a full night's rest for the past week. His eyes said it all to you. He was disappointed.

After a moment of you avoiding looking at him while also feeling his own gaze piercing right through you, you sighed. "You're disappointed in me" you looked down at your hands in your lap. "Disappointed?" his face had confusion present on it but, you fail to see it as you are still too afraid to look him in the eyes. "Oh no, I've probably frightened Sigewinne terribly, I should go show her I'm alright" you try to quickly excuse yourself from the situation. "I don't think so" Wriothesley firmly but gently grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him so he could swiftly lift you onto his desk, his palms planted firmly on the desk at your sides, effectively caging you in. You're still looking away from him. "Come on sweetheart, look at me. Please?" his voice soft in a way to show you that he isn't upset with you.

You slowly raised your head and finally met his eyes. He looked at you in a way that made you feel like you were the answer to all problems in the world. Like you were something precious and sacred. "There she is" he smiled warmly. The smile you gave in response wasn't one the same warmth in return, it was an apologetic one. "You've been overworking yourself, haven't you?" he tried to coax you to explain yourself. You nodded, "I took an extra shift at Cafe Lutece today while I've been prepping to become a nurse here". "Oh? You're going to be working here? How was I not made aware of this?" he asked as he finally moved away from you to fold his arms across his chest.

The guilty expression on your face made him let out a soft, "Y/n...". "I told Monsieur Neuvillette to keep it a secret because I was afraid you wouldn't allow me to pursue it" you admitted. "I see" he nodded and sighed. "Well, I just want to say first and foremost" he moved toward you again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, "I'm not disappointed in you. Not for what happened today or for keeping this secret from me" he reassured. "I also want you to know that you can do whatever you want. I don't ever want you to consider my own thoughts if you are going to put them above your own. At that point my feelings don't entirely matter do they? You are free to do as you please" he gently lifted your chin with his hand so you could look at him again.

"Besides, you act like I wouldn't want to see this gorgeous face everytime I come into work" he grinned as he removed his hand from your chin. You smiled the first genuine happy smile all day. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to be a nurse down here?" he asked as he took your hand in his to help you steadily hop down from his desk. "Well, I would love to work with Sigewinne of course. You know I adore her and I know she could teach me a lot of things. Her point of view in life is always so fascinating and wonderful to me as well" you went on to explain. As you went on, Wriothesley just had the most lovesick expression plastered on his face and you made note of it. "And don't act like I don't want to see your gorgeous face everyday when I come to work" you use his own words on him with a grin. He chuckled and shook his head "You're a very dangerous woman". "Hmm, maybe I've just been around you too much" you joke. Instead of laughing in response with you, he pulled you against him by your waist. "I don't know about you, but you could never be around me too much" his eyes studied every detail of your face, "No, matter of fact. I can't get enough of you sweetheart".

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff

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gunnerfc · 3 months

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Center Stage - Aitana Bonmatí x Reader SMAU; Part 1.5

Aitana gets asked about going to your show in a pre-match conference and makes a small confession that has social media going crazy! A short bridge between parts 1 and 2!

AN: All translations come from google!

Aitana had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when she was told she would join Jona for the pre-match conference before the team’s match against Atlético Madrid. If she was honest, most of her irritation came from not being able to meet you after attending your show.

While Aitana understood that you were very busy and couldn’t hang around long after getting off stage, she was a bit bummed she couldn’t give you the friendship bracelet she had made with her number on it. It was a bit foolish to think it would work, but Aitana’s crush never faltered at her failed chance of making a move.

Sitting beside Jona, hearing the same questions she’s heard numerous times before, Aitana’s irritation grows. The Catalan lets her head coach answer most of the questions, his answers are the same words he spoke to the team during the last training, though this time a bit more formal for the press. Aitana gave her input here and there when questions were directed towards her, but for the most part, she was silent.

Aitana thought she would soon be free of reporters until after the game tomorrow, but when a reporter stated the last question would be for her, she knew she had thought wrong.

“Aitana, ¿cómo estuvo el concierto al que asististe durante el parón de semana? (Aitana, how was the concert you attended during the week break?)”, the reporter asked, catching Aitana off guard. She didn’t expect to be asked about you or your show during this conference.

Aitana could feel her mood instantly shift at the thought of talking about you. Before she could consider her words, the midfielder responded with “¡Fue muy bueno! ¡Disfruté la mayor parte! (It was very good! I enjoyed most of it!)”

She realized how her words sounded the moment they left her mouth but before she could explain further, a different reporter beat her to it.

“¿La mayor parte? Parecía que disfrutaste todo el espectáculo por los videos que te tomaron los fans. (Most of it? It seemed like you enjoyed the whole show from the videos fans took of you.)” the reporter asked, clearly trying to get Aitana to say more. They were journalists for a reason.

Aitana could feel her cheeks flush at the thought of fans having videos of her looking like a love-sick puppy over someone who didn’t even know who she was. Aitana wasn’t the best liar so she knew the only way to clarify what she didn’t enjoy was to tell the truth.

“¡Disfruté el espectáculo! No disfruté no tener la oportunidad de conocer a Y/N después (I enjoyed the show! I didn't enjoy not having the chance to meet Y/N afterwards.).” Aitana started, and now she knew she had to keep going, even if it meant possibly embarrassing herself slightly.

“Los fans de Y/N son conocidos por sus pulseras de la amistad. Le hice uno, esperando poder dárselo después del espectáculo (Y/N’s fans are known for their friendship bracelets. I made her one, hoping I could give it to her after the show.).” Aitana finished, her cheeks still tinted red.

Keira and Ona were never going to let her live this down.

“¿Había algo especial en la pulsera? (Was there something special about the bracelet?)” The first reporter asked, confusion lacing their voice.

Aitana took a breath before responding, “Tenía mi número de teléfono (It had my phone number on it.).” The midfielder’s voice wavered slightly, hoping the reporters would hear that she didn’t want to say anything further.

A staff member came to her rescue unintentionally, telling the reporters that they had no time for more questions. Aitana took a deep breath before muttering “gracias” into the mic in front of her. The Catalan quickly left the conference room and headed straight for the training pitch, hoping that none of her teammates were watching the conference.

Thankfully they had started training a few minutes before Aitana told a room full of journalists that she had attempted to slip her number to you. While it was a tad bit embarrassing, a large part of her was hoping that maybe you would end up seeing clips of her conference and might reach out.

Aitana would do it herself but she was nervous that you may reject her, despite how bold of a move it was to make a bracelet with her number on it to give to you if she had the chance. For now, Aitana was focused on training and tomorrow’s game. Barça was on a winning streak and she was not going to let this incident mess with her or her playing.

[TWITTER POSTS]

barçafan1: DID ANYONE ELSE WATCH AITANA’S PRE GAME CONFERENCE?! SHE TRIED TO GIVE Y/N HER NUMBER

↳ ynfan1: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

↳ barçafan2: YOURE JOKING ????

ynupdates: Barcelona player Aitana talked about Y/N during a recent pre-game conference! She talked about trying to give Y/N a bracelet with her number 👀

↳ ynfan2: Y/N in her athlete era for real?!

ynfan3: I WAS JUST JOKING WHEN I SAID I WAS STARTING A RUMOR BUT I DONT THINK ITS A JOKE ANYMORE

ynfan4: everyone manifest she goes to the game tomorrow!!

ynfan5: EVERYONE WHO IS GOING TO THE GAME BETTER TAKE PICTURES IF THEY SEE Y/N THERE !!!

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #aitana bonmatí #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #espwnt x reader #aitana bonmatí x reader

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Note

Hit the showers with Soap? 👀👀 he’d 100% do something like that! He’d definitely get chewed out by price or ghost lol

YES ANON 100% he is literally such a shithead this was so written for him

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen

pairing: Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, mild nudity, sexual depictions

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"Alright I'm gonna hit the showers," you called as you exited the sparring and training room, "put some ice on that Garrick." You turned and smiled as you saw Gaz flipping you off in the corner of your eye. Another successful training session where you kicked Gas's ass and then were absolutely taken out by Ghost. Your body ached as you walked into the locker room. The gym showers were practically empty so you walked to your locker and grabbed a fresh change of clothes and your shower caddy. You placed your clothes on a bench adjacent to the stall and peeled off your issued shirt and threw your shorts to the side. You rolled your sweaty shoulders before turning on the warm water and savoring the sensation. You were accustomed to quick showers or lack thereof on the field but you always took your time when back on base.

As you shampooed your hair and faced the shower head, you could hear the thud of feet entering. You knew it was a public space so you were unbothered by the interruption. "Water's hot today," you called out to the other soldier but they didn't reply. You shrugged as you continued your routine, tying your hair up after you conditioned and using the bar soap to clean your bruised body. Eventually, after 10 minutes, you turned off the shower and cracked the curtain to reach for your towel. As your damp hands felt only the cold tile instead of the fluffy object, you assumed in your haste you might have left it on the bench. However as you exited with a cloud of steam, your eyes fell on the bench with no clothes or towel in sight. "What the fuck?" you said aloud and walked towards your locker leaving a trail of wet footprints. After angrily throwing it open, you found that it was empty. Now you know someone was really fucking with you and you had your suspicions. You angrily grabbed a damp towel from the laundry bin and stormed off to the men's barracks.

Your first arrival was to Soap and Gaz's room. You pounded on the door as you heard Gaz yell that he was coming. The minute he opened the door, you shoved past him and stood with your towel wrapped around your body. "Who the fuck took them?" you yelled as your angry gaze shifted from him and Soap who was leisurely sitting on his bed. "What are you talking about?" Gaz asked as you felt his gaze on you. "Can it, Garrick," you commanded, "where the hell are my things?" Soap couldn't deny how hot you looked at the moment, clad in a small towel, dripping wet, and absolutely fuming. "You fucker," you whispered as you saw your gym clothes haphazardly sticking out underneath his bed. You ran over and bent down to grab them, not caring that your towel slowly dipped as you reached under the bed. As you looked up, you couldn't help but notice something new growing in his shorts. Now, you were extra pissed. You then proceeded to hold your clothes in one arm and smack Soap with the other. As he yelped in pain, two more individuals joined to see what the commotion was about.

"What's going on here?" you heard Price shout as you stopped your attack. You turned around as you held your towel around your figure tighter. "Mactavish thought it was a brilliant idea to take my shit while I was in the shower," you fumed as you could feel his eyes stare at your ass. You took the opportunity to turn around quickly and plant a slap on his cheek. There was an audible groan following that. "You and me, tomorrow, in the ring," you spat before you walked towards the door. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to take another shower," you said politely and walked past the staring eyes of your team.

As you walked down the hallway, you could hear the lashing the Sergeant was getting. First, it was Price reprimanding him for sneaking into the female quarters and stealing your clothes. Then it was Ghost who yelled about the fact you had to walk through the halls in a dirty towel. In between the loud voices, you could hear Gaz laugh and reply. You couldn't help but smile when he said, "She should've slapped you harder after that."

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x you #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

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babygorewhore · 2 months

Text

Let me In

After being held hostage, you’re rescued by Ghost. But the trauma of being the only survivor has made you unable to lean on anyone for comfort. Despite his efforts.

So this is my first ghost fic so I apologize for anything that’s OOC and inaccurate. This is angst and hurt comfort with smut! Please be kind!!

Warnings! Mentions of violence and death! Injury! Survivors guilt! Reader is lowkey kinda toxic! Arguing! Mentions of troubled relationships with family members. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected sex! Not proofread! Thank you to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for beta reading!!

You were rescued weeks ago. You had been kidnapped while going home, tortured for information on the location of a man you didn’t even know. And even if you did, you would have still remained silent. Remained cold. You were known for that. Known for your brash, intimidating and icy existence. As a child, you had learned long ago it was better to stay calm. Stay quiet if you want to survive. Never show your emotions.

You used to be expressive. Emotional. But it resulted in being called a cry baby. Dramatic. Bullied throughout school and then during training as a younger girl. Your parents constantly criticize you. So finally.

You shut it off.

When you were captured, you had been hit on the back of the head with a gun and then thrown into a cell with hostages an hour later after being unconscious. You had been assaulted. You knew by the bloody state of your legs and pants torn off. Everything hurt.

You were a good person. Strong and Steady. But all of that went away when they tortured you for three days with the group they’d taken. Beating you. With their fists. Weapons. And finally before you were rescued, they sliced at your skin with a knife. Leaving you scarred.

You were the only survivor when a military unit rescued you.

You were still being cared for medically. Still working out the details of your future. Your internal injuries are strong enough to leave you weak and almost helpless. But you pushed through. You slept a lot. Trying to recover. But it was a slow process.

Worst of all, you felt extremely guilty that you were the only one who made it. Whenever you slept, you had nightmares of the screaming. The wails of those being harmed.

You didn’t expect one of the men who rescued you to be a masked man.

He went by Ghost. He was probably around five or more years older. He checked on you. Almost everyday. But your interactions were extremely short. Polite.

You weren’t home. It wasn’t safe to leave from how hurt you were. And you missed home. You missed your own bed. You missed all your stuffed animals. It hurts that you were stuck here in an unfamiliar place.

A knock signaled you someone was at your door.

“Come in.”

Ghost walked in. His large size made him almost duck underneath the door and he carried a tray of food. “You Missed dinner.” He said simply and he set it down on the small table in the corner.

“I’m not hungry. Not really. But thank you.” You kept it short and you folded your arms.

Ghost sighed but didn’t leave. He stayed still whenever you saw him. It almost looked like he wasn’t breathing sometimes. “How’s your leg?” He cleared his throat and glanced down with his dark eyes. His mask didn’t disguise the frown that was settling on his face as he took in your dark circles. The fading bruises on your face.

“It’s still sore but I can walk a little bit. I limp.” You answer quietly. It was so difficult to say those words. You loved being able to move. Run. Dance. And now you were facing the possibility that you couldn’t. Not the same as before.

“I can always help you. When I’m here. All you gotta do is ask.” His deep voice was completely serious. He wanted to help you? He barely knew you.

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” You responded dryly.

Ghost shifted on his feet. He looked…awkward. “Well…I’ll let you rest. But I hopefully see you out of your room tomorrow. Being locked away in here isn’t going to help.”

You wanted to show annoyance at his tone but you kept it cool. “I’m tired. It’s hard to walk. I’d rather just stay here for now.”

Ghost nodded. “I’ll uh-leave you to it.”

He closed the door and you slowly exhaled.

You were glad to be alone. You wanted to think. Remember those who had fallen.

You dreamed about it. You dreamed about being sliced like a piece of meat. You woke up, almost screaming before you remembered you were out. The only one out.

It happened all hours of the night. You’d sleep maybe an hour before waking in a cold sweat. You shed a few tears before grabbing your cane and standing. You limped out of your room. Your pajama pants are too big, given that they were borrowed by one of the men who donated his clothes to you. Your socks met the cold floor as you walked in the kitchen.

You thought it would be empty, no one was sitting in the scattered chairs and you smelled cigarettes. Your nostrils flared at the smell and you sighed. It wasn’t much different. Being isolated in your room was plaguing your mind but this room was at least bigger.

That’s when you saw Ghost leaning against the counter in the dark. You shrieked and immediately turned on the light.

He quickly held up his hands. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ghost's Voice was thick with regret at his stillness and you set down the hand that was on your chest.

“It’s okay. I should have looked.” You nodded as you started to pull out one of the chairs.

“Here, let me.”

“No. I got it.” You rejected his offer and sat. The cool seat sends chills up your spine. Ghost exhales before clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks and you nod. “Me either. I don’t sleep most nights.” The conversation felt forced. And you didn’t want his pity.

“Yeah. It’s tough.” You toyed with your sleeves at the end of your hands before wincing at the spasm that sent up your ribs. Your breathing panted as you tried to power through it

“Shit. Wait, I’ll get you something.”

“No. It’s okay.” You start to say before groaning as a deep ache throbbed. You forgot your pain killers but you hated the idea of Ghost getting you anything.

He didn’t listen as he left and went to the medic. You hated the fuss as he came back with a handful of medication and a glass of water.

You tried to reach forward but the stretch was too difficult so Ghost warily held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and accepted the water that traveled down your throat. A shuddered breath came and ghost reached forward again.

“Here. Let me carry you, this chair isn’t comfortable.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t need help.” You quipped at him and his hand faltered. “I just need a second.” Your tone caused his eyes to harden but he didn’t argue. A few minutes went by and the pain subsided enough so you could breathe properly and you didn’t notice Ghost had made two cups of tea. You almost groaned at his gesture but you kept silent. Your fingers wrapped around the handle.

“Thank you.” You offered and Ghost took a seat in front of you.

“You’re welcome.” Ghost hesitated before he stared into your eyes. “You need to let someone help you. You could hurt yourself even worse by doing it all alone.”

“I don’t need help. I need to practice doing it myself.” You replied and he sighed.

“Is your room comfortable? I know you still don’t have any of your own clothes and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine.” You responded sharply. You were growing exhausted from his endless attempts at conversation. And he seemed to get the hint as he quieted.

You both sat there for a while as you sipped your warm tea. You titled your head. “This is really good. I’m more of a coffee girl.”

Ghost grunted. “Coffee is poison. Tea at least serves a purpose.”

Your lips quirk into a small smirk. “It keeps me human.”

His eyebrow raised. “Let me guess. You don’t drink much water, either.” You glanced down at the half empty glass. “Women.” His tone had a hint of playfulness to it.

“Men.” You marched his inflection and you looked down at your palms. They were scarred. Deeply from knife wounds.

“I have to be honest with you,” he said your name with a bone chilling seriousness. “I’m concerned. You never allow anyone to help you. You don’t leave your room. And I understand that. But if you don’t allow anyone in-“

“What? What will happen?” You said with a icy voice. “It’s not your problem.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t answer back.

Two days passed and you still hadn’t made any progress with your walk as you hobbled in your room without your cane.

You hated this. You hated this so much as your mind raced with thoughts of Ghost spending time with you the other night. You had sat in silence after his offer of concern that you rebuffed. You didn’t know why he was so concerned with you. It wasn’t the first time he had rescued someone. You weren’t sure why he wanted to stay with you. Your thoughts drove you to stumble, falling over on your back as your head smacked against the floor.

You grunted painfully as you saw stars. Your door burst open.

“Fucking hell!” A deep voice bellowed. You felt arms scoop you up and pull you against a hard chest. “We’re going to medical.” It was Ghost. You had no idea how he could even know what happened.

“Were you outside my door?” You said shocked as your head throbbed. He carried you but you started trying to remove yourself from his grip. “Put me down.” You commanded.

“The hell I will,” He said matter of fact. “You could have a concussion.”

“And I’ll deal with it.” You told him and he didn’t answer back.

You were examined and released back to your room an hour later. The nurse told you-well ordered you to use your cane at all times. Ghost was in your room now, trying to clean up the spilled mess on your floor where you fell.

“I can get it myself.” You said casually and he stood up straight.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it. What is it? Why are you acting like this?” His voice raised. “Why are you acting like some sort of drone? Do you understand what happened to you?”

His volume surprised you but your eyes hardened. “Yes. I was there.”

That seemed to make him visibly angrier. His black clothes hug his muscles and his neck veins start to show. “You were kidnapped! Hurt! Fucking hell you have to walk with a god damn. You shouldn’t be walking at all.”

“And?” You said, bored. You went to move past him but he stepped in your way.

“No. I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this. You need someone to help you. I keep trying and you’re not accepting it. You’re not sleeping. You won’t eat. Drink. Or listen to anyone. It’s not right.”

“I don’t see how it’s your issue, Ghost.” He started trembling with rage and he stepped forward. Nearly in your face.

“It’s my issue because I’m worried sick. Seeing you in that pit gutted me. Seeing all those people dead-the good men we lost trying to rescue all of you-tortures me. And you wont show any emotion about it. Don't you have any sort of feelings about what happened? Or are you as cold as you act?”

“Showing how I feel about it isn’t going to change what happened.” A spark lights in your chest of anger. How dare he speak to you this way? How dare he make this about him?

“Then prove it. Prove that you even care.”

“You think I don’t care about what happened?” You said, shocked at his implication. “Just because I’m not sitting here crying about it?”

“You’re not just not crying. You’re withering away!” He shouts. Your jaw clenches. “You could die if you don’t let me help you.”

“I don’t care if I do!” You yell back. “Maybe I should have!”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that!” His tone made you snap. “Don’t throw away your life because you felt guilty. Guilty that everyone else didn’t make it. It’s not worth it and they would want you to live and be happy. You can’t just throw away everything because of them. I know how hard it is to be the last man standing but you’ve got to try.” The more he spoke. The more his voice softened and your hackles lowered. “You. Deserved. Better.”

You were surprised at his vulnerability. His way of reaching your heart. And you saw his point.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghosts' hands reach out to gently rest on your shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I just want you to listen. You can trust me.”

You swallow.

“I wish I could.”

Your statement must have cut through him like a knife. But you knew it was better to push him away. He didn’t need to deal with your damage. Your fractured mind.

Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut. Causing you to flinch. But your shoulders were squared. It was for the best. He needed to leave you alone. Let you handle this. Let you heal by yourself.

Another week went by. More days of you isolating yourself. You were starting to become comfortable. Comfortable sitting in silence. Comfort in being alone where no one could ever hurt you again or remind you of what happened. Your clothes were starting to loosen. You were losing your taste. And you had a deadline of when you were hopefully going home.

Three more weeks until you were healed enough to stop seeing the nurse everyday. Where a doctor at home could look after you.

You felt a mixture of emotions. Relief you could go home and sleep in your apartment soon but a dull ache where joy used to reside.

You thought about those nights more and more. Lost in memories of the man hurting you. The weeping of the other hostages begging to be let go for their families. Their children. Your own pleading words ignored by the sadistic intentions of the captor.

It was getting more difficult to make the few trips out of your bedroom. You didn’t want to look anyone in the eye. How would you ever face the victims' remaining family? How would you ever provide comfort? It was too late for them. But not for you.

It killed you. As your brain relentlessly reminded you of your survival.

The nurses explained it was survival guilt. A way your mind tried to cope with a life threatening event when you were the only one who made it. Maybe you shouldn’t have. It would have been fair. You sat in the kitchen again. Past three in the morning with a cup of coffee as you pondered things you needed to do when you arrived home. How were you supposed to speak to your friends? Your parents? Everyone probably thought you were dead.

“That’s why you don’t sleep.” You jumped at the familiar accented voice and turned to see Ghost walking to the table, his loose sweatpants and black t-shirt against his body while he wore a pair of sneakers. “You’re still drinking poison.” He said gruffly as he took a seat across from you.

“I guess so.” Your reply was dry as you took another sip. The cream and sugar down your throat sends a warm, tingly feeling in your body.

“That’s my shirt.” Ghost said, nodding his head down. “I gave it to the nurses a few days ago. FIgured it would be warmer than Soaps.” The nickname makes you chuckle.

“I thought so. No one else would wear all black. A man after my heart.” You laced your fingers together and set them on the metal.

He looked at you curiously. “All black?”

“Yeah. Color doesn’t really suit me. Does that surprise you?” He shook his head. Slowly and he straightened his shoulders.

“Heard you were going home soon. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going. The last one went so horribly and you didn’t expect him to speak to you again. “Not really ready to face anyone.”

“Do you miss your family?” The question struck a chord inside you and you exhaled heavily. “I shouldn’t have asked you.” He corrected himself but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I do miss them. But it’s complicated. I know how they’re going to be when i get back and im not looking forward to it.” THe information flooded through you easier than you expected.”My father and I have a complicated relationship.”

Ghost took in the words and leaned back in his seat. His legs are separating. You took a moment to subtly admire him. Even under the mask, you knew he’d be handsome. You knew he had a strong face, dark eyes and his firm brows that stuck out whenever his mask moved. His large body. Chiseled with muscle and tattoos. He wasn’t unkind to look at.

“I can understand that.” His short, gruff answer told you that must have been an understatement. “Any friends?”

“Just a few.”

“Sometimes that’s more than enough. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” He offered and you looked down at the shiny surface underneath you.

“Ghost, why are you speaking to me? Especially with how our last conversation went.” You asked him bluntly and he looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“I went for a workout. Saw you were in here. Nothing complex. I know better than to push you.” His words gave you the reality check that you’d hurt him but he was still here. Offering you company. You didn’t know his duties. You didn’t know how this worked. You weren’t even sure how the rankings worked. You never left the four walls in your room.

“I see. Pretty late for a workout.” Ghost grunts.

“Pretty late for a cup of coffee. I’m tempted to snatch it out of your hands.” You weren’t sure, but you could have sworn he almost sounded…playful? Amused?

The corner of your mouth curled and you shrugged. “I’m not sure you could. With those scrawny arms and all.” Ghost huffed out a short laugh.

“I could throw you over my shoulder with one hand, darlin. Don’t test your luck.” Darling. You’d never been called that seriously before and your breath hitched. He either pretended he didn’t notice or he genuinely didn’t. “Besides. Sure you could use some strength.”

“You’re probably right.” You chuckled and held your mug tighter. You needed to warm it but getting up would reveal your limp and you didn’t want to give him another reason to criticize your choices. You shouldn’t have talked so much. He was probably getting bored with you.

“Care for something to eat?” Ghost stood and motioned. “I can make you something.” You shook your head, respectfully declining. But then your stomach growled. You didn’t even feel hungry so the noise surprised you.

“I think I have my answer.”

Ghost made you something simple. Eggs and toast but as you ate, you found yourself finishing the entire plate and your belly wasn’t in pain anymore. “Here,” Ghost said, bringing your attention back to him. He slid his plate over that still had a piece of bread a few minutes later. “You can have the rest.”

You normally would refuse but you accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” You ate it and you laughed. “This reminds me of Sunday mornings with my parents when I was younger. We used to make this all the time because I was such a picky eater. My dad wanted to kill me sometimes.” Your eyes dazed as you remember the few peaceful times in your childhood.

“I bet. Someone who lives off of coffee must not have a wide range.” His playful, low tone came back and you glanced up at him. His elbows were on the metal table. His biceps flexing as he moved. “Do you want any more?”

You quickly shook your head and you felt uncomfortable with being more expressive and you stood wobbly. “I should get going.” Ghost looked like he wanted to protest but he seemed to shift directions as he stood too. His height loomed over you until he slouched.

“Wait. Let me walk you to your room.”

“No. It’s okay.” You denied and settled your weight on your injured legs. “I’ve got it.”

“No you don’t. But if you insist on still being stubborn,” Ghost growled. “Why can’t I at least walk you?”

“Because I don’t need a babysitter.” You replied and turned.

“Fine. But I don’t have to listen.” Ghost swept you up in his arms, bridal style and you shrieked. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He carried you to your room, ignoring the glances from other soldiers as he opened the door and he sets you down on your bed.

“I didn’t need-“

“Yeah! You didn’t need help! I’ve heard it. And I decided not to listen.” Ghost was growing agitated but you ignored him.

“Thank you. But next time, please let me do it.”

“I don’t understand.” Ghost extends his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to me helping you.”

“And I don’t understand why you keep trying!” You say to him, voice still calm.

“Because I care about you. I care about how you’re doing.” Ghost grits out. “I want you to be okay. Especially with what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine. I’m healing.” Your response seems to send him over the edge.

“Are you even human? Do you even mourn? Or are you too busy trying to be some robot?”

The word mourn causes you to reach up and slap him across the face. His head turns and he lets out a pained grunt. You step closer, your cane falling to the ground. “You can say whatever you want about me. But don’t ever question my mourning. I don’t even want to be here because I don’t think I deserve it more than them.”

Ghost’s eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was anger. Disappointment. Sadness. But then they drifted to your lips and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. One because your leg hurt and second his gaze was pinning you in place.

“You do deserve it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “You deserve to be here.” Ghost says your name in an almost pleading voice. “Please, let someone be there for you.”

You don’t move away for a second, feeling his breath on your skin before you take a step back. “I can’t do that.”

Ghosts eyes close and you sit down on the bed. Your thigh begins to throb. “Please go. I’m asking you to leave.” But he didn’t listen.

Instead, lowered himself to his knees and stared into your eyes. Your breath halted and your gaze softened. A fear iced inside you as he started to lean in. Towards your lips. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away. Something in you cracked. A dam broke. His kindness. His efforts. His way of trying to help you and your constant rejection. It wasn’t fair of you.

An overwhelming ache seized in your chest and your eyes began tearing up. You doubled over, knocking onto him as a loud wet sob escaped your throat and you began shaking. “Oh god,” You started wailing and Ghost's strong arms crushed you to him. His hard muscular body gave you a steady place to fall as you wept.

“It’s not your fault.” He said against your ear. Which made you cry harder. You wanted to believe him. You were so tired of pulling away.

“I just don’t know how to speak. I’ve been told my whole life I’m too much.”

“You’re not.” His arms tightened around you. It honestly hurt but you welcomed the pressure and you felt his lips against your head. Pressing soft kisses to your hair.

The feeling gave you chills and your overwhelming sorrow began to lessen. The thoughts of death. Your own dark ideas eased. They weren’t gone. But his embrace distracted you. He pulled back but kept his arms around your back. “You can call me Simon. My real name, love.” The nickname sent a chill up your spine and in the heat of the moment, his dark gaze on your face underneath his mask.

With one hand moving up your torso, Ghosts fingers pulled up his mask, revealing his beautiful face. It took you aback. His jawline was strong and sharp. His nose fit the proportions of his face and his lips were naturally turned down. His tongue darted out to swipe over his teeth. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. So your palms cupped his cheeks and your thumbs gently stroked his skin.

“You’re beautiful…” you whispered. And he laughed quietly.

“Thank you, darling. I don’t do this. But I want you to see me. Just like I see you.”

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his. Your kiss was gentle against his slightly dry mouth and he inhaled. Still as a statue and you wondered if you were making a mistake but then he returned the gesture with a force. His mouth parted and he moaned against your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, exploring the crevices of your mouth before tangling the sticky muscle against yours.

His hands were pawing at your body with a strength and dominance you’d never experienced. You’d kissed people before but it wasn’t like this. Ghost’s motions weren’t clumsy but he wasn��t gentle. He lifted himself and pushed you on your back without breaking the kiss and your stomach fluttered as he tore himself away and peppered wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck and he grazed your collarbones with his teeth. You swallowed and closed your eyes.

“This alright?” He paused and you nodded. “No. Say it. Say it or I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t stop. Please. Please don’t stop, Simon.” You pleaded and he returned with his mouth dragging along your flesh. Goosebumps raised and your leg, the good one, wrapped around his waist as he straddled you. His thick thighs and wide torso were a little difficult to hold as he held his weight with one arm and tried not to crush you. You tugged him closer, the heel of your foot pressed against his lower back, and your fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Fucking hell,” he growled and pulled your shirt up to your tits. Ghost looked at the faint scars and fading bruises and his lips trailed in open mouth kisses along them. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders as you encouraged him to remove his shirt.

When he did, you gasped at his body. His muscular form was refined and broad. Perfect. His tattoos were wrapped around his skin in a decorative story. Your fingertips traced along them and he captured your hand. “Mmm, you’re being such a good girl. Listening and responding to me. I bet you’re wet, hmm? Just from me kissing this pretty skin.”

His words made your core tighten as he roughly removed your leggings and you quickly covered your bandages. He moved your hand away, “don’t hide from me, love. Want all of you…” he whispered and his lips lowered to kiss your hips. You whimpered at the sensation and bucked your pelvis and he let out a low chuckle. “Patience, princess. I can’t spoil you too much.” He teased and hooked his fingers along the bands of your panties and pulled them down, the center sticky with arousal. “Such a pretty little cunt, love.” He muttered under his breath as he bent his head forward and hovered his mouth above. You tried to bring him forward, desperate to relieve the pent up tension you held from denying him.

“Simon, please,” You begged. “Make it go away, just for a little while. Please taste me.” You spoke in a prayer and he groaned. Unable to deny you any longer as he slid down further and your leg went around his shoulder as he gently held your other leg down. His tongue was flat and wide as he swirled it around your clit, taking his time to savor your slick and he worked his way down to your entrance. He dipped his tongue inside, filling you up and you bit your lip to quiet the sounds you wanted to make. He must have sensed it because he shook his head, his small amount of facial hair tickling your skin.

“Mm, let me hear those sounds, pretty girl. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” You obeyed him by allowing yourself to shudder out a breathy whimper as he lapped at your pussy, licking you like a melting ice cream cone and possessively kept you still. He devoured you and relentlessly pressed harder, leaving no room for questioning who you belonged to in this moment. Your hand flew to his neck, cupping the back of it before settling around his throat. He liked that. A lot. Ghost’s teeth were barely against your cunt as your stomach was coiling inside and flexing from build up. “Oh, fuck.” You managed and turned your head to the side. “Oh god,”

“No, no, no, look at me.” he ordered and lifted himself up. You whined from the absence of his touch before he unbuckled his belt and pried off his form fitting pants. His boxers clung to his body. Looking painted on as his cock twitched against the material. You could see how big he was and you wondered for a second if it would fit. “Aw, don’t look so nervous, precious. I’ll make sure that pussy takes me without trouble.” After that, he pulled down his underwear and it slapped against his thigh. The angry purple, leaking tip hung heavily as he crawled back on top of you. “I’m going to make you forget all that shit. You’re mine right now. Don’t fucking forget that, baby girl.” He said authoritatively and you mewled as his command.

He rolled his dick against your glistening cunt, it kept hitting your center and he cupped it, further focusing on your swollen bud. “I have to show that clit some love. I know you’re ready for it,” He cooed as you desperately kept saying his name. You felt like you were leaking like a faucet. Finally, taking you out of your misery, he entered his tip inside you, the stretch immediate as you grunted. THe pain disappeared after a second and you welcomed him. Ghost crashed his lips against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss and he bites your lower lip and tugs on it.

“Simon,” You slurred as he sank deeper, halfway in.

“That's it, love. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” He was almost unable to speak against your mouth as he thrusted, sinking into the hilt and his balls slapped against you. His thumb shoved against you and circled your clit. “Clenching around me, you needed this didn’t you? Needed my cock to keep you sane.” His possessive words made you nearly scream as he jolted you with thrusts, making the headboard slam against the wall with brute force. You knew others could hear outside but you couldn’t care less. Your mind was fuzzy as your pussy took him without question.

His hand was balanced above you, and your forehead was against his as spit connected between you but it wasn’t gross like other men you’ve fucked. Ghost was thoroughly rutting inside you, hitting every single spot you needed as you were getting closer, you were unable to keep your eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly kissing you but his mouth was on your neck. His canines sharply biting down and you cried out. It tipped you over the edge and you creamed all over his cock, the slippery and sticky substance making it easier for him to move.

He gave a few more thrust before ropes of cum coated your insides and he pressed a hand on your stomach, “Look at how I’m filling you up,” His voice was thick with a moan as he stilled and jerked inside you with aftershocks.

Ghost stayed there for a few seconds before pulling out and your pussy was dripping. Ghost gave you a satisfied smirk. “Cock drunk enough, little love? Can’t talk?” You nodded slowly.

“Give me about five minutes.” He rolled off of you and settled on his back on the small mattress. His size made it almost comical the way he tried to fit. “You feeling okay? No regrets?”

You settled on his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his fast heartbeat as you chest his bare chest. “No, Simon. I don’t regret it.”

Your mind was clouded but you were able to focus on the moment. Your emotions mix with a low state to a distraction. But you knew eventually you’d go back to guilt. The shame. And you’d be going home.

Until then, you would lay here with him and forget. Just for a while. And allow yourself to enjoy his warmth.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x me #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley angst #Simon Riley hurt comfort #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost call of duty #ghost x smut

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mcondance · 4 months

Text

nite and day. fontaine.

for 👹, as they return to school tomorrow.

the back roads of the glen are quiet this time of night. nobody passes back here but the dope boys and the hos, and even then, ‘taine’s picked a spot for the two of you where you won’t be bothered.

snack wrappers sit on the middle console, hot chips and a half-empty bottle of strawberry lemonade, taine’s malt liquor and a half-smoked joint.

his ever-present music fills the car, soft vibrations have your body rattling softly from your place in his passenger’s seat. a passenger princess is what you are, always riding, never driving, spending his dime like it’s yours– and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

hazy-eyed and chest heavy with the weed swirling through your body, you cast your eyes over fontaine’s pretty ass face; the slope of his nose and curve of his lips are entrancing even in the low light. his dark eyes meet yours with a quickness like always.

“you starin’.” he says, smooth and deep, and yeah, you are.

“i am. that wrong?”

“nah.” he shakes his head, smoke curling out of his mouth. he smiles, laughs a little cause he still can’t believe he cuffed a girl like you, who’ll just stare at him for the fuck of it. passing you the joint, he watches you hit it, and you watch him watch with low eyes, leaned over the center console staring up at him like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. your eyes, he thinks. your fuckin’ eyes.

he’s stuck, watching you inhale and exhale, keeping his eyes on you through the smoke you blow.

“you playin’ with me.�� he’s got that thing in his voice, that airy, dazed, fucked thing that has you shifting in your seat and cracking a smile, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head and not denying his accusation. he shifts too, places a hand on your face and brings you over to steal a kiss that you so easily give him.

one kiss is never just one with fontaine, though. deepens quickly, gets nasty and your heads are moving with it, fighting to hold your own as the other does the same. he grunts, moves as close as he can and licks over your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth when you let him in. your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him towards your kiss.

low smacks mix with the music pouring from his radio, little pleasured sounds and hungry groans take their place in the song like they belong there. and if you let fontaine tell it, they do.

“sound so damn pretty,” he mumbles against your lips and you smile against his, leaning back just a little to find his eyes again. he’s in the thick of it already, tipsy with infatuation and you’re getting to his head, like you always do. “what you wanna do?” he asks. he knows your answer already, leaning away from you so you can clamber over his console and settle in his lap while he’s still reaching down to move his seat back.

in his lap, his hands find your waist with ease, handle your body like second nature as you press your lips to his again, hands on either side of his face. you cup his face with the gentleness of a person in love, soft and caressing and he feels the sweetness leak off your hands and seep into his skin.

the way you feel is anything but sweet, though. he’s hard against your heat and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear you were dripping through your shorts and panties. fontaine’s hands get bolder, sliding down your ass to grab at your pussy, grunting against your lips as he gets a handful of you. again he grabs, and you whine a little, moving up away from his hand at the sensitivity and unwelcome shyness that arises in you.

it doesn’t matter, though, cause you settle back down and he runs his hand down your slit through your clothes, still kissing and licking into each other’s mouths. sure of himself, his other hand takes the first one’s place, inside your clothes this time.

“taine. .” you sigh, melting into his touch.

“mhm.” he hums into your neck, kissing your skin once before he trains his eyes down between your legs.

your body knows his touch. moves against his fingers naturally, sliding your slickness over his hand as he teases your nerves, savoring the feel of you against him. your hands are over his shoulders now, a little leverage to grind your hips on him, breath heavy and desperate with the soft pleasure arising in you.

fontaine knows your tells better than you do. “you want it?” he asks, cause he can tell with the urgency in your motions that all that long ass foreplay shit is for the birds tonight.

you just nod dumbly, leaning back so he can free his dick and you stare with hungry eyes at him, body tingling with the recollection of how he feels shoved up in your guts.

shorts and panties to the side is how he does it, using your drip as lube with one, two, three swipes up and down your cunt. you shiver, eyes joining his on between your legs to find his hand wrapped around his dick.

still high off weed and each other, you connect, softly, and its good.

ready, wet and always ready, he opens you up and he groans at the feel of you enveloping him, at how you clench and kiss his dick with your walls. your sounds seem to complement each other, a whine leaks from your mouth as he sinks in farther, splitting you open like it’s his purpose. mouth slack, you huff out breaths, eyes fluttering as he catches against little electric spots all inside you.

there’s no static spot, no time in which you two don’t know what’s next. to the backdrop of smoke and fontaine’s smooth music, you fuck in fontaine’s driver’s seat. it’s smooth, the way you rise up and he pulls down and you meet in the middle, and then you’re in the thick of it and the pace is so sweet your mind blanks with it.

the car rocks, the shuffle of clothes and bodies and unabashed moans hit the air and spin and float like flowers through the wind.

hand braced on his chest, you rest your forehead against his, eyes taking in his eyes and his nose and his lips that are opening to feed you the words that you so readily eat up. low and deep, he speaks, his mind crafting the most depraved shit to say.

“you love this shit, don’t you? got me on you and you ain’ even have to try.” he’s lovestruck, would give you the world if you even looked at him like you wanted it. you nod, retching out a moan, dropping down on him harder and rougher. he feels that shit, smiles and places a kiss on your neck before his hands handle your waist again. he has your bounces turning to grinds, and he follows you, hands on your waist to move with you.

like this, it’s good. good like midnight drives and being close with your lover, good like spending his money and getting kissed like even god couldn’t separate you two.

the shit’s perfect, and you feel it, in your rocks against him, in how you move against each other so right.

smooth is how you fuck each other, rolling your hips against him, letting the atmosphere of it all bring you close to cumming. there’s no rush, no race or urgency to hit your peak, just slow grinds and soft words and fontaine’s hands around your waist, comforting and mind-fucking all at once. inside you, his dick kisses every part of you.

in the driver’s seat of fontaine’s pontiac, you feel as good as you think you could ever feel.

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone smut #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x you #good luck at school 👹!#hopefully you are still up and you like it <3 #cw weed #cw fudge #cw alcohol

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

Text

Withdrawal

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You wait for Bucky to call.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, some angst and self doubt, references to sex, references to Bucky having a traumatic past

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Will he call? Won’t he call? Let’s find out! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky stares down at his phone and sighs.

He wants to call you, genuinely, so why is dialling your number so difficult?

Perhaps it’s too soon, is what he tells himself. It hasn’t even been a full day since the end of your date, calling now probably makes him look desperate.

Should he message you? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you all day? Ugh, no… that seems extremely forward for someone he’s only been on a single date with, regardless of if it’s the truth.

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.

Bucky knows he’s overthinking, but you make it hard to think clearly. You have his brain short circuiting, reforming synapses so that all his thoughts are rerouted to the same thing: you.

Turning his phone off, he sets it down beside him. Just because he isn’t calling straight away, doesn’t mean he won’t at all. It’s probably better to wait and not seem super eager.

Or is that counterintuitive? If you enjoy someone’s company, should you let them know so you can see them again as soon as possible?

Fuck, why is this such a daunting task? He’s never had an issue with talking or flirting with anyone before, it seems to come naturally to him. And yet the thought that he’ll say the wrong thing, and fuck up whatever it is between the two of you is making his stomach churn with prickling nerves he’s never experienced before.

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow.

* * *

“You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” The familiar voice from the driver's seat of the ambulance pulls Bucky from his daydream.

You, is what Bucky thinks. You are constantly on his mind. Him and his best friend Steve are half an hour into their shift and you have not left the forefront of his mind in that entire time.

It’s like he’s in a trance.

“There’s this girl from the hospital…” Bucky trails off, unsure how to articulate exactly how you’ve bewitched him since meeting not even a week ago.

The night before last wasn’t just another hookup. At least, not to him.

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better.

“Two nights ago we went on a date, it ended up back at her place.” This is probably not news to Steve - he’s heard many stories about Bucky’s one night stands which would have started exactly like this. But there is one huge difference this time around. “And then I told her I’d call.”

“You’re thinking about a second date with her? She must be something special.” Bucky chuckles under his breath. Yeah, you really are something special. So fucking special.

“She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny, witty. When she was treating that little girl from the train derailment she was so good with her, kind and patient. I don’t know how to describe it, we just click. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to feel more than physical attraction for someone but with her it just happens, I can’t stop myself.”

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Bucky’s already addicted to you. He’s only had one fix, but he’s already showing symptoms of withdrawal. Every second apart feels like an hour, craving your company and the rapture firing in every neuron of his body when you’re in his presence.

“Look at you actually falling for someone.” Steve teases, without even knowing the full extent of how enthralled Bucky is with you. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Silence fills the front seat of the ambulance when Bucky can’t answer the question.

“Bucky, you have to see her again! Listen to how you’re talking about her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually speak about wanting to see someone again. You need to call her.” Steve stops at a red light and looks over to Bucky in the passenger seat. His best friend knows him better than perhaps he knows himself but doesn’t have the same obstacle with letting people in as Bucky does.

“That’s easier said than done.” Bucky can’t mask the dejected tone in his voice, and Steve recognises the crestfallen hang of his head, knowing exactly what he means without voicing it aloud.

“I know you've been through a lot in your life Buck, you’ve built walls up to prevent any more heartbreak…” Steve starts, but Bucky doesn’t need yet another reminder of his tragic backstory.

“Alright Mr I minored in psychology, I get your point. I’m damaged goods and don’t let people get close to me.”

“It’s just a second date, Buck, you aren’t asking for her hand in marriage. Just see where it goes.” Steve makes it sound so easy. Most people wouldn’t get so stressed about something they would consider as minor as a second date, yet Bucky feels like he’s about to expose the most intimate parts of his soul to someone for the first time.

“But I don’t want to hurt her. I know nothing about dating or being in a relationship.” Bucky pauses - the fact that he’s even considering something as substantial as a relationship with you punches him in the gut. He’s never wanted that with someone before. “And I don’t want to get hurt myself.” Because all Bucky has known is relationships breaking down. To him romantic relationships are synonymous with pain and he’s had enough of that for a lifetime.

“You’ll never know if you never try. I know you think letting someone in will lead to heartbreak, but what if it’s the opposite? What if by letting this person into your heart you finally find love and contentment?” Bucky has never allowed himself to imagine a life where that is a possibility - opening himself up to that prospect sounds like a recipe for more suffering. Besides, he’s been damaged goods for a long time, he’s sure there’s no one who would want to put up with him anyway.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” Bucky comments, trying to avoid the questions Steve is raising, and divert the topic of their conversation.

“I want you to be happy, Buck. You’ve never afforded yourself that courtesy.”

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you.

“Well, maybe it’s finally time I do.” Bucky mutters under his breath.

* * *

You’ve been checking your phone periodically throughout the day to se if you have any new notifications from Bucky, but each time your phone lights up, a new wave of disappointment floods your chest.

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it.

“Heard anything yet?” Wanda asks hopefully, but you shake your head in response. The first thing Wanda asked during your next shift together was how your date went with Bucky - between treating patients you described the picnic Bucky set up on the riverbank and (in slightly less detail) the euphoric night you shared when you made it back to your place.

“I’m stupid for actually believing he’s going to call, aren’t I?”

“…No.” Wanda offers after a brief hesitation which tells you more than the single word does. Sensing your regret in asking, she continues on. “Sweetie, only you know the connection you share, I can’t speak to that. If you feel like there’s something special there and he promised to call, then you have every right to believe him.”

Perhaps you’re being foolish, you should know better than to hang your hopes on a man who is notorious for being a fuckboy, but you really thought Bucky was being genuine when he promised to contact you. That the blissful night you shared, and the waves of ecstasy which melded into a flood of pure pleasure, meant more than just a one night stand.

Or at least it did to you.

“Just because he’s never pursued more than a first date with other people in this hospital doesn’t mean he isn’t now, or isn’t with you. Sometimes it just takes the right person, that could be you.” You take some comfort in the sincerity of her tone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you of what Wanda alerted you to prior to your date: no one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

“You’ve changed from giving me no hope to giving me false hope, Wan.” You joke, trying to brush off the conversation and not reveal just how heartbroken you’ll be if Bucky ghosts you, even with Wanda warning about his ways.

Internally you remind yourself that it’s only been a day and a half and to not be too mad at him, yet. Perhaps he intends to call, but hasn’t gotten around to it, though you’re pretty sure you’re only telling yourself that to stop the perpetual ache in your chest rather than truly believing it.

“He promised he would call, that’s not false hope.” Wanda advises, shooting you a look of encouragement as you both complete paperwork for your respective patients.

At that moment, the doors to the ER swing open and none other than the paramedic you were just speaking about walks in wheeling a patient.

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too.

Him and his partner consult the head nurse of the ER, who, after examining her clipboard for a moment, points towards your direction, making your stomach flip.

Steel blue eyes meet yours and for a moment your entire world stands still. The sounds of the busy ER fade away and even the presence of Wanda beside you dissolves into non-existence when his eyes find you and a smile overtakes his features. That damn cheeky smile which makes your knees weak.

He truly is infuriatingly beautiful.

“Hey.” Is all you can think to say as they approach, a lump in your throat forming which would prevent you from voicing any more words if your brain could think of any other than how strapping and handsome he looks in his uniform.

“Hi.” Bucky responds softly with a dreamy smile, eyes lingering on yours for a long beat before turning away. How could someone who looks at you with such warmth not want to see you again?

You shake the thought from your mind as your focus on the patient, a young man with scared brown eyes. You can’t afford to be distracted right now, even if you desperately want to look back at him and revel in the fondness brimming in his eyes which was so apparent during your date.

After Bucky’s equally tall, broad and handsome paramedic partner gets you up to speed on the patient's history, you get to work on taking his vitals.

“Rogers, Barnes, give us some space to work, please.” Dr Strange requests and without the chance to say another word to each other, both paramedics disappear out the corner of your periphery.

What you don’t notice is Bucky’s soft gaze on you through the glass walls of the patient room as you start your work up, believing that he had simply got back in his ambulance and out into the field.

“That’s her?” Steve asks from beside Bucky. He knows full well it must be you, he’s never seen his best friend look so enamoured with a girl, nor lost for words as when he set eyes on you, but he wants Bucky to admit it aloud.

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.

Steve suspects if he doesn’t remind Bucky they have a shift to get back to, he’d happily watch you work for the rest of the day.

He allows Bucky a couple more minutes of that luxury before heading back to the ambulance, knowing his best friend well enough to realise before either Bucky or yourself do, just how significant Bucky’s feelings for you are.

* * *

Bucky steps out of the shower, the warm water having rinsed the hard days work off himself.

He knows he needs to call you. Waiting any longer, especially after seeing you today, even if it were only for a brief moment, would surely only indicate disinterest. That’s so far from how he feels about you, so he decides needs to take matters into his own hands and fulfil the promise he made two nights ago.

A fresh swarm of butterflies fills his stomach. He’s actually going to do this.

He just hopes you’re after more than just another hookup. Bucky’s used to being the one only interested in sex, but if the roles are reversed this time, it’ll be his exposed heart being ripped from his chest.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s finally giving himself a chance at happiness.

Bucky reminds himself that you asked him to promise to call after your date. It’s not just him that wants this, you want him to call.

With that thought, he pulls out his phone and quickly presses on your contact, so he doesn’t chicken out, and with a shaky hand holds his phone to his ear. Bucky’s heart beats in his throat as the first ring sounds, and then skips a beat altogether when the click of you answering fills his ears.

“Bucky, you called.” He can hear the smile in your voice through the line, but what makes his heart clench is the trace of surprise he can perceive, as if you truly hadn’t expected him to call.

“I did promise to.” He reminds you, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate the bitter shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach that even though he did in fact promise, you didn’t fully believe him.

“I’m happy you did. I had a really great time the other night.”

“So did I.” Those three simple words don’t sum up just how much Bucky wholeheartedly enjoyed every second he spent with you, regardless of if that were naked in your bed or getting to know you on a picnic blanket as the sun set across the horizon, but in his anxious state he can’t find words more poetic to express it. “And I’d love to do it again if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to think about it.” He can tell by the light tone of your voice you’re joking, but he supposes he deserves waiting for an answer considering he made you wait for his call. “Of course I’d love to go on a second date with you James.”

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front.

“I guess I’m going to have to outdo a picnic at sunset then.” He chuckles to himself, knowing that he’s never had this problem before, but realising it’s a good problem to have.

You continue to talk well into the night, forgetting what time it is, and that you both have early shifts in the morning. None of that matters when you’re so caught up in each other.

Bucky simply enjoys the sound of your voice, and how it soothes the remaining anxiety which was swirling in his chest before calling you. He certainly isn’t hanging up first, not when talking with you has been the best part of his day.

He’s chasing happiness. And he might just find it with you.

Part 4 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @roschele @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @fallenlilangel99 @princezzjasmine @mdrovert @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @netflixxgoddess @pop-rocks-818 @dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @marvelhoeland @thesadcatto-queen @kayden666 @amiimar @razor-blayde @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @moonymagician @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @unaxv @aya-fay

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fuyukohasnocreativity · 3 days

Text

-date-

featured character ☆ itoshi sae

tag(s): fluff! ☆

apologies if this is out of character, again TT TT

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It was two o'clock in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep. Sae, who was next to you, his head, nuzzling against your back, was sleeping peacefully. It was cute to see him soundlessly sleeping against you but that's not the reason why you couldn't fall asleep. You grabbed your phone from the wooden night stand next to you and started going on Instagram. You were scrolling and saw that some of your friends were posting pictures of places they were going with their partner. But of course, Sae always comes home late, either training or having a soccer tournament. What are the chances of him spending quality time with you or go on outings? Quite rare to be honest. You then go on Google to search up "Things to do for couples", the results were going to a cafe or hiking, maybe going to an expensive mall but obviously you don't need anything from expensive malls since they're all Chanel or Louis Vuitton, fancy fancy fancy brands... You could feel Sae shift positions. The next thing you knew, he was awake, rubbing his right eye. Although your phone's brightness was on the lowest, he still somehow woke up. "Y/n? How come you're still awake?" he asks, perhaps still half awake. He then turns on the mini white ceramic lamp next to him. You turn of your phone and held it tight, "Um... The thing is, I couldn't fall asleep. Because I wanted to do something fun with you tomorrow, like a date. But I mean, you don't have to go with me and I'm aware that you don't have much time either... I was just researching places to go, nothing else." You let out a small, weak smile, in the process of battling the urge of wanting to cry a little since you barely got to spend time with Sae. Suddenly, Sae got up, walked to the nightstand next to you and kneeled down. He opened the lowest drawer and got out a folded sheet of paper, written with black ink. He then hands the piece of lined paper to you. "Here, it's a list of all the things we could do together. The front has outdoor and indoor activities and the back has things we could do at home..." Sae looked away, from slight embarrassment. His cheeks were lightly tinted with a shade of pink, and he definitely avoided eye contact with you.

Your face instantly lights up, eyes widened completely. "When did you have time for all of this?!" "I wrote it during breaktime, since I was bored. Everyone wanted to know what I was writing..." You bursted out laughing, "What did you tell them? I'm so curious!" "I told them directly that it was for you..." your face was instantly flushed with pink. There was a long pause of awkward silence until Sae pointed at the list of activities "Go ahead, you can pick anything." you nodded, to agree. Still, it was quite shocking that he told everyone that he was dating you, etc. You looked at the sheet of paper and the following list of activities listed. You then made up your mind, wanting to go to a café with Sae. "Hey, should we go to a café and walk around after?" "Anything you'd like." Sae smiled. You jump on Sae and gave him a big hug, smiling with joy. Sae gave you a kiss on the lips, and your cheeks. The two of you continue to stay in each other's embrace.

"Say, when do you want to go to that café?" you ask curiously, looking up at Sae. Sae didn't answer until ten seconds later, "Today. At ten o'clock, we'll leave." "Sounds like a plan." a few minutes later, your eyelids start to feel heavy and you doze off, still embracing Sae. He gently strokes pieces of your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "You need to regain energy first before getting all excited..." he whispered then let out a soft chuckle.

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ty for reading!! just a short drabble i wanted to write, not very long or detailed either.

-fuyuko

©fuyukohasnocreativity do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated!

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 10 months

Text

Tim Bradford x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Officer!Reader, Female!Reader, Established Relationship, not any real spoilers

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"How was it?" You ask as Tim enters your car. His RBF turns to a smile as he sees you.

"She's not the worst," Tim says. Tim would never admit if he liked a rookie. Okay, he has made the occasional comment about a rookie being okay.

"But how was your day?" Tim asked as you began to pull out of the parking lot. You and Tim's shared apartment was an incredibly short distance from the station. Very convenient.

Tim rests his hand on your thigh as you begin to speak, "Shitty. I was tied up watching over a crime scene until the detectives arrived. Half of my shift. Six fucking hours," you complained.

"Oohh, so that's why I barely saw you," Tom responded. "sorry it was shitty," he added and fought a smile that was forming.

He thought you were adorable when frustrated.Hell, Tim thought you were adorable almost all the time. When he didn't find you adorable was when you were in action. During those times he found you very, very hot. Watching you kick ass turned him on way more than it should.

You both sit in silence as you drive. The busy streets of LA truly did suck. Especially after twelve hours shifts. Even more so after having had a very shitty twelve hour shift.

"God I just want to sleep. We both have tomorrow off and I want to stay in bed until four P.M." you said and tim laughed.

"Babe, you can stay in bed all day, but I don't think you will. We could go to the shooting range? It's very romantic," Tim says with a smile.

Neither one of you ever questioned how your relationship worked. It wasn't very much like a "normal" one though. Most couples don't spend dates at a shooting range or hand to hand combat training. Or, the best one, the gym. There still were many dates spent at a restaurant, but LA restaurants have lines longer than the great wall of china.

There were the occasional dates when you could convince Tim to go paintballing or when you two would get tickets to a football or baseball game.

"I think that sounds lovely," you say with a smile as you park the car. Tim hated that you always insisted on driving. Not that you were a bad driver but chivalry wasn't dead.

Home at last.

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Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Feel free to send in requests!

#tim bradford #the rookie fanfic #The rookie #the rookie x reader #The rookie imagine #tim bradford x reader #Tim Bradford fanfic #Lucy Chen #Officer!reader #Tim Bradford x female!reader

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magicbystarlight · 6 months

Text

Before I Knew You - Part Ten

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Thank you for reading, I love seeing the comments and appreciation for this story ❤️

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 4,037

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, sprinkle in some miscommunication, age gap, questionable ethics from a medical professional. Minors DNI.

The ocean was louder than you remembered. Colder too.

Wet sand sank under your feet with each step, waves erasing the prints you left behind. The paper that morning had read August 30th. A month since the wedding. Six weeks since the farm. A little more than two months since the Death Eaters’ attack on Hogwarts. Eight months since you'd last seen your parents. A year since you’d kissed Cillian goodbye thinking there was a future together. Somehow that seemed too short a time for everything that had happened. All that'd you'd lost.

It had been easy to compartmentalize. Push it away and focus on anything else. But the holes were there. You missed the Cillian you'd known. You missed your parents and their excited, encouraging smiles. You missed Madam Pomfrey's complete trust in you and your abilities. You missed the days when you thought you had any control of tomorrow.

Three years working the Hospital Wing, two more being its frequent volunteer. All in hopes of a job at St. Mungos. You’d gotten it. A spot in the Janus Thickey Ward working with patients with spell damaged minds. The decision to walk away from it had been easy. You were no longer safe, yes, but that wasn’t why.

You could still remember his blood on your hands. The panic in Madam Pomfrey’s usually calm movements. His eyes finally opening, blue in a sea of red, and his hand gripping your wrist. He’d mumbled something. Impossible to understand. But he was alive and there was hope. He would live. Scarred and straddled with symptoms of an unknown severity, but there had been hope he could live his life mostly as he always had. Then Fleur had fled.

All he'd gotten was a letter. All you'd given Cillian was a letter. She’d sent back a ring, you’d sent back a bracelet. Maybe not the same, but they were kindred sentiments. And it was devastating to destroy something that in another time would have been forever.

The sand shifted as you sat. No wonder Bill hated the idea of you leaving. No wonder you had such a hard time actually wanting to leave. It was ironic how well matched you were. Poetic even. You his stand in for Fleur and he yours for Cillian. He could make you stay and you could stay. He wanted to protect people and you wanted to heal them.

But he wasn't Cillian and you weren't Fleur and this wasn't a relationship. This was two traumatized people trapped together in a war trying to keep each other alive.

High tide came while you watched the moon's reflection ripple in the water. The ocean couldn't combat the forces of the moon. How could you?

—

Bill sat, head in his hands, at the table when you returned to the cottage. Waiting.

"Thought you went to bed."

He looked up. Gods it wasn’t fair when he looked at you like that. Like he was relieved to see you. "Yeah, yeah I did, but I heard the door and I thought…”

He didn’t finish the thought. You had to look away. His sad eyes were for someone else. “I needed some air.” Had you looked like that when he left? Maybe the first night. Much worse the other three. "I wouldn't walk out on you." Not like he did.

"Right," was all he had to say.

Maybe you should have left.

"I'm off to bed then." You hadn't made it two steps before he pleaded for you to wait.

"Can we talk?"

It was too much. Your emotions were still raw, bleeding and blistering from the scab you’d picked away. It hurt. You were hurting. And he only cared because he thought you were going to leave. Gods, why did that make it worse?

"I don't fucking know Bill, can we? Cause I’ve tried. But every time you leave. Or we say ‘tomorrow’. But there’s never been a tomorrow, has there?” You couldn't look at him. If you did, you'd break. "I'm exhausted with this back and forth. Trying to manage being your Healer who understands how difficult this has been for you and being your friend who doesn't understand why you won't let me help you." You could hear him move, but you kept your gaze fixed on the stairs. "I can't keep doing this, having this same conversation with you. I know it's a lot, I get it, I do, but I'm terrfied I'm going to watch you die in this fucking cottage because your ego is too fucking big to let someone take care of you." He was standing right behind you. You could step back, let his arms wrap around you.

"I had nightmares." It was a fragile confession. An admission he didn't want to give. "Every night after that first one in the Hospital Wing. They always changed, but it was mostly just Greyback and Death Eaters coming after the people I cared about. Every night. Except the night Mad-Eye died. I thought maybe it was because I lived it that night, because they came back. And then we came here and it was so…peaceful. I just slept. Until I fucked everything up and left. The only night since then that I haven't dreamed of death and blood is the night I came back."

"You should have told me."

"What was I supposed to say? Sleep with me so I don't have bad dreams?"

You spun, shoving your finger into his chest. "And there's that fucking ego, Bill." "Ego? You think this has all been about my ego?"

"I know tonight was."

He started to say something, reconsidered, and said instead, "Alright you got me there. But, but, wait, please," he grabbed your hand as you'd begun to turn away again. "Think about this from my perspective, yeah? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you would do whatever it takes to make me feel even an ounce of relief.”

“Of course I would.”

“And don’t you see the problem with that? If I’d told you in the beginning that I needed to sleep with you and needed to fuck you, you’d have done it.”

“It would've taken me a bit to come around to it," maybe not as long as you'd like to admit, "but yeah. Yeah, I would have.”

“But not because you would have wanted to.”

He was wrong, but it only made you feel worse. “Do you realize how unethical it is for me to want to fuck you, Bill? It goes against everything I’m supposed to be as your Healer. You don’t have control over what’s happening to you, how your body’s reacting, and I’m supposed to be helping you through it, not taking advantage of you.”

“Taking advantage of me? I’ve got almost ten years on you. These last few months have been hell for you and now—now you depend on me for almost everything. What I want is depraved." He still held your hand, now clutching it against his chest. "I'm supposed to keep you safe and instead all I can think about half the time is…Merlin, you don't need to know. And maybe, maybe I can't help that, but I never had to drag you into it." Like you knew you would, you broke. Reaching up, you cupped his face. His scruff scratched at your palm as he leaned into the touch. "You didn't drag me into anything."

"I did, didn't I? Bringing you here? I should've taken you somewhere else with someone else."

"I think you're forgetting if it wasn't for you and Remus, I'd be dead. And if you hadn't been so quick at the wedding, I'd either been caught by Death Eaters or Cillian." His grip tightened on your hand, eyes clenched shut. "We've made the best choices we can, Bill. The ones that've kept us alive."

"It doesn't feel like there's been any choices."

"Well we have a choice now. We can figure out another living situation for me, with someone else and hope that alleviates some of your symptoms. Let me finish," you said as he opened his mouth. "We can do that. Or we can ignore how complicated and unethical it is for me to stay and we do what we need to do for each other. What we want to do to each other. But only, only if let me take care of you."

"So you do want me?" "Bill Weasley, did you hear any other words I said?"

His hand took hold of your waist, pulling you closer. "Every one of 'em. I'll let you run any test, answer any question, poke and prod whatever you need, follow every instruction you give. Promise. Just stay with me."

"I'm not doing this again. I won't have this conversation a third—" you paused and corrected, "a fourth time. If you can't—"

"We won't." His grip tightened, forehead pressing against yours. "We'll do it your way."

"Okay. Good." He felt so warm. "Maybe we should get to bed?"

“Yeah.”

“Together, right?”

“I do need you to keep away the bad dreams,” he mused before sweeping you into his arms. His amused chuckle as you questioned how he kept picking you up so effortlessly left you feeling breathless. “You’re light as a feather, love.”

It was only a few minutes later that he was breathing evenly beneath you in the small bed upstairs, an arm draped around your waist. He wasn't Cillian. You weren't Fleur. This wasn't a relationship. For now though, this was enough. One day it wouldn't be, but you closed your eyes and slept.

—

Nothing could have made you leave bed. It smelled too good, felt too warm. After weeks of terrible sleep, it was heaven. From Bill's steady breath against your hair, it seemed he wouldn't crawl out of bed anytime soon either.

Almost nothing could have made you leave bed.

Nothing but a loud pop, followed closely by another.

You were jinxed. You had to be. It was the only explanation for a Weasley horde popping into existence so early in the morning with Bill still wrapped around you in bed. Bill's wide-eyed terror mirrored your own as the shrill voice of Molly shrieked at the familiar laughter of Fred, George, and Ginny.

"...to Diagon Alley! Alone! To think I trusted you boys with her!"

"It was a quick stop," one of the twins insisted as you both fell out of bed and scrambled down the stairs. "Needed to grab something from the shop," said the other.

"And no one even saw me!” Ginny added.

“But what if they had! Don’t you think it would have raised a very dangerous question of exactly how you’d appeared there when no one saw you leave the Burrow? Hmm? They think they're watching our every move! We cannot have them question that!”

Five heads of fiery red hair came into view of the windows causing your own to whip around the house in case anything screamed, “We had sex last night!” Bill seemed to do the same. He dove for something on the floor that you couldn’t see from the table. He managed to straighten up just before the door burst open.

Fred—you knew it was him because he had both his ears—was the first of the brood to come through with George and Ginny close on his heels. “Mornin’ Bill! Mornin’ Gorgeous!”

“Merlin, Fred! Have no manners stuck in that head of yours?” Molly gripped as she followed. She turned from her son and fixed you with a softer, apologetic look. “Sorry dear. We didn’t mean to burst in."

"Oh, we most certainly did," Fred countered as he made his way to you and threw an arm around your shoulders. George added, mirroring his twin, “We were hoping to catch you two doing something naughty.”

"That's it! Both of you, back to the Burrow!"

Whining shouts of protests came from the three younger Weasley siblings as you were released. “It was a joke!” “Can’t anyone have a good laugh these days?” "But it's my last day!"All you could do was hope that nothing in your face gave away the very naughty things they'd have caught you doing if they'd come by the night before.

As the argument continued, Arthur took the opportunity to break away. He approached Bill, his expression markedly more subdued than the others. He whispered something into his son's ear. Bill's gaze flitted to you—in worry? Horror? Embarrassment? Oh gods, did Arthur know? Did they all know? An uncomfortable bubbling in your stomach grew as the two disappeared into the bedroom Kingsley had occupied the day before.

“One more toe out of line and I will send you back, do you hear me?”

Your gaze snapped back to the others. No. They didn’t know. Fred and George would certainly never let you live it down if they’d known. Molly would not be looking at you with any kindness if she thought you’d taken advantage of her son. And Ginny… you didn’t want to know what she would do. You’d seen the aftermath of her hexes.

"Now outside. The three of you."

Ginny gave you a small wave as she followed her brothers outside. Definitely didn’t know.

"Again, very sorry dear," Molly said kindly. “It was just supposed to be Arthur popping over, but Ginny overheard and well, she heads off to Hogwarts tomorrow and she’s been wanting to come.”

“Of course, yeah—yeah. I think Bill mentioned he wanted to have everyone over. Before, you know, Kingsley and all that. Something about fighting chickens?”

“Chicken Fight. The kids do love that game.”

“Right, yeah. So, um, has something happened?” Your fingers picked at your lip as you nodded towards the bedroom. “You know, since Arthur was coming by.”

Molly hesitated before giving a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just normal Order business. Nothing to fret about.”

When you'd gone off to the farm, you hadn't really thought about bringing along a swimsuit. Molly, the ever prepared mother, had brought along an extra one-size-fits-all swimsuit for you. So you spent hours on the sand and in the water with the Weasleys doing your best to act like everything was completely and utterly fine.

Like you weren’t worried about what had happened between you and Bill the night before, or worried for his health, or worried about what that horrified look meant, or worried about Ginny going to Hogwarts the next day, or worried if Kingsley was alright, or worried if someone else was going to show up on the verge of death again.

You were fine.

Completely and utterly fine.

“You alright?” Fred asked as he sat next to you on one of the towels. His hair still dripped, his siblings continuing to toss around a Quaffle in the water.

You gave your best attempt at a smile as you pulled your knees tighter against your chest. “Yeah, of course.” You'd never been good at acting.

“Really?”he asked with a raised brow and skeptical tone. "Cause I don't think I've seen you crack a smile at all today."

Resting your chin on your arm, you watched Bill get tackled and dragged down into the waves by Ginny and George. Arthur was passed out a few feet away turning a shade that would rival his hair and Molly was sitting peacefully under an umbrella reading. Bill and Arthur had come out of the room like nothing had happened. Joking, playing, teasing with their family with an uncomfortable force. They wanted everyone distracted for the day.

"Maybe not alright. I'm worried about Ginny and all the other kids going off to a castle crawling with Death Eaters," you conceded. A half-truth. It would be Madam Pomfrey's first time completely alone in the Hospital Wing after three years of your help. She didn't need you, of course, she was more than capable of doing her job before you'd even been thought into existence. But you could imagine this year would be more of a strain than any other she'd experienced.

More than the year He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hid behind the turban of Qurrial.

More than the year the Chamber of Secrets opened and petrified Muggleborns.

More than the year dementors roamed the grounds.

More than the year of the Triwizard Tournament.

More than the year Dolores Umbridge tortured kids in detention.

Even more than the last year that ended with Death Eaters storming the castle.

“We’re all worried,” he said, shielding his face from his siblings to hide his frown. “I—I tried to talk her out of going. Told her we wouldn’t mind going into hiding. But she’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn is a famous Weasley trait, isn't it?” It was meant as a joke, but it came out too dry. If there was anything you knew it was how stubborn a Weasley could be.

“Suppose it is.” He laughed softly as his sister ramed her shoulder into George's side, sending him toppling into the water. "Can you do me a favor?"

You side eyed him, knowing not to trust anything he asked of you. You'd seen plenty of people in the Hospital Wing after doing favors for him and George.

"Forget about it all for a few hours. Try to enjoy what's left of today." You looked back to the water. George and Ginny squabbled over the Quaffle. Bill was standing to the side, his face turned towards where you sat at the beach. "If not for yourself, then for Ginny."

Fred stood then, sand sticking to his trunks. Extending his hand, he smiled expectantly. "Let's go challenge Ginny and George to a chicken fight, yeah?"

Your response was automatic. "George is not cleared to have that sort of pressure on his ear."

"He's totally fine though!"

You scoffed, finally taking his hand to stand. "He is not! He has a hole where his ear should be."

"Oh, come on, love," he said, watching as you dusted sand off yourself, "can't we be a bit ear-responsible today?"

A smile fought to take hold of your lips and you had to look away from his triumphant gleam. "No George. But Bill did promise me a game."

"Oh, Ginny'll be stoked about that." He took your hand again, dragging you into the cold water. "Oy, you lot! Time for a good ole' game of chicken fight, yeah?" George cheered. "Not you though, Georgie Boy. Our little healer says you've got to sit this one out." George booed.

"She's with me," Bill said, nodding at you.

Fred tugged you closer, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "Fat chance on that, mate!"

"Does no one want me as their partner?" Ginny pouted. She didn't seem very serious, but it was enough for Bill to concede. It wasn't enough, however, to keep him from warning his brother that one inappropriate joke would end up with him sent back to the Burrow. Fred's promise of good behavior did little to soften the eldest's irritation.

He was jealous.

Ridiculously jealous.

Ginny suffered for it. What should have been an easy win for her, turned into a struggle with Bill constantly losing balance in the waves sending them both crashing down with the slightest push. Ginny still managed to bring you down a few times, but Fred was steady on his feet. It was Ginny, pushing hair and water out of her face as she stood back up again, who suggested a partner change.

Fred was reluctant to let you go. Didn't the two of you make an excellent team, after all? But you worried Bill might snap, the blue in his eyes barely visible with how wide his pupils had grown.

"It's just a game," you reminded him lowly before he knelt down in shallow water to let you climb on. He gave no response beyond a content hum when your thighs pressed against his face. This time it was Bill who suffered. More so than Ginny had. How, exactly, were you supposed to focus on a game when his hands were on you?

Fred took the wins with all the modesty of a Gryffindor. His boasting you could handle, but his attention focusing on you, trying to flirt like he always would was detrimental to Bill’s health. And his.

It was Molly’s fretting over George getting sand in his ear that gave a perfect excuse to ease the tension. Physicals. Everyone needed one. See how George's ear had been healing, check no one had come under the Imperius Curse. It’s what you were supposed to do in the morning with Bill, anyways. One by one you examined the Weasley's in the room you'd occupied upstairs. Molly was the first, voicing her concerns over each of the others. Arthur came next. He was silent, only answering questions asked. Then it was Ginny. She cried. She'd tried not to, but she was sixteen and the world had fallen apart around her. A small drop of Essence of Dittany cleared up the redness in her eyes before she returned to her family. Fred and George were together, amusing themselves with their banter.

And last was Bill. The door hadn't been shut more than a second before you were pressed against it.

"It's all in my head." His kiss was soft, but desperate. "It's all in my head," he repeated against your lips. Your fingers brushed a strand of his hair back into place. "It's just Fred being Fred. He doesn't know."

"Maybe we should tell him."

You chuckled, but he didn't. "Bill."

His response was to trail kisses along your jaw.

"Bill," you said firmer, pushing lightly against his chest. "We're not telling him. Or anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because how do we explain…this?"

"We don't have to explain. We tell them we're together and that's all."

Your heart clenched. It was one thing for you to know that you were filling the voids left by the war, but for the world to see that? No one would believe you were together for anything beyond convenience and desperation. It would be easier to explain the truth. "I'm not going to lie to everyone about what this is."

He pulled back, turning away and running a hand through his hair. "Right." He plopped on the bed. "You're right. You're not going to lie to anyone that we're together when we're not. I'll keep my emotions in check."

"It's not like we're going to have people here often. We'll be alone again in a few hours."

He nodded, blinking up at you in a neutral expression. "You're right. We should get on with the physical. It's part of the deal for you staying, isn't it?"

“Fine.” You went through the motions, checking him over. He was fine, a little better than normal even. His heart rate was accelerated, but considering his day that wasn’t much of a surprise. His mood has somewhat recovered before you returned to his family, thanking you with a searing kiss.

An extra chair had been transfigured from some old driftwood to add a seventh seat at the table for dinner. Fred and George had tried to take the side with three chairs, hoping to trap someone between them. But Molly was far too used to their antics and sent them to the other side to sit by themselves. Ginny was a buffer between you and Bill, his father beside him and Molly next to you at the ends. Ginny kept you talking throughout most of the meal Molly had made, asking as discreetly as she could about healing spells.

“It was so nice to come here today,” Molly said, dabbing a napkin under her eyes. “I’m so glad you suggested it, Ginny.”

“It was lucky dad needed to come today.”

George asked, mouth full. “Why did you need to come today?” Fred, needing to be part of the conversation too, asked, “Yeah, what’d ya have to tell Bill?”

You were going to let it be a family squabble, but Arthur made the mistake of looking at you and averting his gaze too quickly. “Bill?”

“I don’t think now is the appropriate time to discuss it,” Arthur said.

Bill disagreed. “Cillian went to his office. Asking questions about you.”

Comments and reblogs make my day!

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @manzanosstuff @hungrhay @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie e @pancakefancake

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x you #bill weasley #bill weasley x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #before i knew you

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winniethewife · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 8

Day Eight: Cockwarming (Tony Stark x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, plot, P!inV!,punishment, begging, Unprotected sex

Minors DNI

Words: 650

“Tony…”

“Shhh…just let me, look at you.” Tony looked over you with pride and lust in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious, this is barely a dress.” She remarks as she tried to pull down the short skirt to no avail.

“Hm? Oh yeah definitely, Nobody will question your credentials in that.”

“I thought my years in undercover training was supposed to help us with that, but what do I know…” She Rolls her eyes

“Oh probably, but I like this method way more.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in frustration

“Whatever”

Hours later, Tony’s driving them back from the party where they were supposed to get the information from. “Supposed to’ is the key phrase. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering curses under her breath.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Tony mutters

“Oh, really? I would say it was pretty much a disaster Tony.” She says with venom in her voice.

“You kept flirting with that guy! I couldn’t focus.” He tried to defend himself

“I was distracting him, so you could get the information dimwit. You know, doing my job?” she looks at him pointedly.

“I’m sleeping on the couch aren’t I?”

“Oh no, I have a much worse punishment in mind.” And she did, as he would find out. As they lay bed, she sat on cock. Not moving. Just sitting there. It was absolute torture, and absolute heaven at the same time. It didn’t help that He had stripped down entirely naked and she was still wearing that dress.

“Come on sweetie. Let’s just forget about this… Baby please.” He pleads with her as her wet pussy contracts around him, he couldn’t honestly tell which muscle movements were intentional and which were purely coincidental.

“Oh no you’re not getting out of this easily. You totally screwed our mission and Fury will chew me out tomorrow like I’m a piece of his favorite gum. And it’s not even my fault this went poorly. It’s yours. So suck up and deal.” She smirks slightly at his pouty face and puppy dog eyes. She’s not gonna fall for it. She clenches around him, refusing to move, warming his cock. He let out an uncharacteristic whine as she does this.

“That’s stupid…I mean maybe I deserve it…but I still hate it.” Tony grumbles like a toddler who was just told he could only have one piece of candy. She lifted her her hips and slammed down on him once, causing him to groan.

“Enough back talk or I can find a better way to spend my time.” She uses a tone of voice that makes it very clear to tony that she isn’t kidding.

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a smirk, which quickly disappears from his face as he feels his cock twitch inside her. Every involuntary movement made this whole situation that much better, and that much worse. He would have thought that he would have gone soft by now but every time he thinks hes going to she does something that sends the flag back up the pole. A slight shift of her hips, a single thrust, clenching down on him, she knew exactly how to play him, like an instrument she had taken years to master. It was like this for nearly half an hour when she started to rock her hips back and forth. Her own will to continue like this waning. That’s when Tony knew he had a chance.

“Come on sweetie, let me make it up to you…” He leans forward and takes her hips in his hands lifting her slightly off his cock, then back down. Both of them already on the edge of over stimulation. A moan escapes her lips as he does this. She may be a stubborn woman, but she was still a woman with needs.

“Alright. But you’re not really off the hook…yet…”

Kinktober masterlist

#tony stark #the avengers #marvel #marvel smut #tony stark x reader #iron man #x reader #fawktober2023 #kinktober #cockwarm #mcu

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lewisyellowhelmet · 2 years

Text

summer storm

summary: eddie munson x reader

You got caught in a summer storm, you may as well wait in Eddie’s trailer while you wait for it to pass. (6k+)

content: virgin!eddie, smut, cheating (but its ok #girlboss), weed, general pining, confusion, eddie charm, p/v sex, fingering etc all that yummy stuff, praise kink if you squint

It’s the kind of violent summer storm that makes you think the apocalypse is incoming. Preceded by violet, rolling clouds in the sky, and the kind of humidity that makes you feel like you’re constantly in a warm bath. The wind is vicious, hitting the walls of Eddie’s trailers with a thrilling intensity, rain slashing against the windowpanes. You sit, fidgety, on the very edge of the worn couch, sneakered feet turned in on each other. The plastic bag of weed is already buried in the bottom of your backpack, your money in the pocket of Eddie’s jeans, but the rain had come before you could make your routine exit. You cringe for your poor bicycle, leant up against the porch outside, getting soaked through. It’ll rust if you leave it too long.

“I can drive you home,” Eddie had offered, but you thought of your mother in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and watching through the blinds as you manoeuvred your bike out of Eddie’s van, blinking in the rain, calling out thank you’s back to him. She’d never let you leave the house again. So. Here you are. Sat on Eddie Munson’s couch, waiting for the storm to pass. You’re winding a stray thread from your jean shorts around the tip of your finger, watching it go purple and throb before you unwrap it, feel the pulse of escaping blood.

Eddie is crouched in front of the television, rifling through VHS cases, mumbling to himself. You feel like an observer, someone not meant to be in the scene with him, witnessing something private. Usually, you do your deals after school, and even if you do bike out here you only ever see a brief glimpse of the inside of the trailer, just enough to swap pot for money, say thank you, and retreat back out into the bright daylight to ride back to town. You’ve never been in his presence for so long, had a conversation longer than a few brief sentences. And now he’s searching for a movie to watch together, something not too scary, as you’d requested, even though he’d rolled his eyes. You bite back on a smile, imagining the conversation with Nancy tomorrow as you rolled blunt’s of Eddie’s weed on her back step, drizzle coming down but safe under the porch. You did what, she would say, round, shocked eyes, at his house? And you’d smile and say, he wasn’t that scary, actually.

“Ah ha!” Eddie says, rising up and spinning to show you the video in his big hands. His chunky rings clink together. Labyrinth. You grin.

“I love David Bowie,” you say, laugh at him pretending to gag. But he puts it on, punches buttons on the television until it flickers onto static and then the reeling play menu. Eddie backpedals to the couch beside you, collapsing in a crumpled mess of long limbs and hair. All the energy seems to go out of him, like a deflated balloon. It’s strange seeing him still. He’s usually so active, parading around the cafeteria, causing a ruckus in the back of English Lit, but here, in his own space, he seems almost peaceful.

“Have you seen this before?” He asks, and you nod, allowing yourself to finally shift more comfortably on the couch so you can lean into the back, pulling a cushion into your lap for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, in the cinema.”

“With your boyfriend? Hot date.”

You swallow over a dry mouth, “Something like that.”

You wonder what your boyfriend is doing now. They were supposed to be running laps today for basketball training. Have they been rained out? Retreated to the gymnasium to listen to the rain drip through the tin roof? Or maybe he’s with that Junior, under the bleachers where you’d caught them last week. You feel suddenly ill at the thought, and slouch further into the couch. You should break up with him, but the energy required of such a task seems supernova like. Everything feels like too much effort these days, as you careen towards graduation and college and adulthood. May as well play out the facade for a few more months. You turn to Eddie before you start thinking about it too much.

“Did you wanna smoke?” You ask. He turns his head towards you before he drags his eyes from the television set, but when they land on you it feels suddenly blinding. His full attention, surveying you on his couch. Deciding whether you’re a good enough weed partner or not. His mouth crooks into a sideways smile. You don’t know why you suddenly need his approval so badly.

“Sure, if you wanna,” Eddie says, a lazy way about his words that make you feel judged. Has he decided you’re cool enough? Or not, a disappointment. The feeling clangs in your belly. You go to dig in your bag for the weed he’d just sold you, but he bats your hand out of it, levering himself off the couch.

“Don’t be silly, I’ll get my stuff, it’s better anyway,” he says, and you frown at his receding figure. You were under the impression he had given you the good stuff. Nancy certainly never complained, and her boyfriend was an aficionado at pot. In the movie, Jennifer Connelly is arguing with David Bowie about her missing brother, as he rolls the crystal globe menacingly in his hands. Somehow, the outside rain seems to increase in intensity, thundering down on the tin roof. It’s soothing, being inside and warm while the weather storms. The light is cosy in here, just a lamp in the corner and the television set. The place smells like smoke and coffee, the scent of clean rain just beginning to edge in. Somehow the trailer is exactly how you expected it to be. Cluttered, obviously occupied by single men, but homely. A collection of bric-a-brac mugs. A rug on the floor. There’s an amp pushed into a corner.

“Here,” Eddie announces, and to your surprise plops down at your feet, the supplies he’d gathered spread out on the floor. You pretend to watch the movie while he carefully puts together a blunt, packing it neatly. You look away when he lifts it to his mouth, pink tongue flickering over the edge to seal it. The sound of his lighter, the crackling paper, and then the sweet, sticky smell of weed. Eddie passes it to you, and you don’t think about how his mouth was just where yours was as you take a drag. You want him to see how you don’t cough, how you’re good at this, but when you look down at him he’s watching the movie, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. You pass the blunt back to him.

“Thanks,” he says, absentmindedly, like he’d forgotten you were there at all. Even more, you feel like an intruder. Now you’re smoking his weed, too. Insisted on a movie he clearly doesn’t like. Awkwardness clogs your throat, but the high brings a soft edge to it, not so immediate.

“Do you think I could pull off those pants?” Eddie says, breaking the smokey silence. David Bowie and his package are taking up the screen. The weed makes you laugh easier.

“Maybe if you straightened your hair,” you say, take the blunt he’s passing back. Eddie frowns and ruffles his hand through his mop.

“What, and lose all this? Curls get the girls, ya know,” he says, and throws a smirk over his shoulder. You feel it again, the blinding power of his attention on you. You want to say something funny back, something to make him laugh, but the weed is clouding your brain. Instead, you suck in another hit, let it sit in your lungs for too long.

You alternate between watching the movie and watching him. He’s stayed seated on the floor, one knee pulled up, the other leg stretched out languidly in front of him. It’s strangely endearing, seeing him in his socks, heavy boots lost somewhere. Your whole body feels heavy and fluid, like you’re sinking into the pillowed depths of the couch, but you’re not that fussed about it. The rain is soothing. At some point, Eddie shifts, and you find his shoulder is against your leg, a steady pressure. You imagine your boyfriend finding you like this, slumped in the couch, your leg against the side of Eddie’s body, smoking a blunt right down to the ash. Eddie is flicking his lighter on and off, and you watch with hazy eyes as the flame appears and disappears at his will.

“Are you thirsty?” He asks, eventually, somewhere in the last act of the film, and you nod, eyes heavy. He laughs at you, rumbling.

“You okay?”

You nod again, blinking up to where he’s leaning over you, half amused, half worried.

“Yeah, it’s just… Nance and I, we don’t usually smoke that much at once.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, standing up. Seated in the couch like this, looking up at him, he seems very tall, his shoulders broad against the ceiling. The rain pounds down. You wonder if it will break through, flood the trailer, leaving you swimming around his kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” he apologises, “Let me get you something to drink.”

You listen to him in the kitchen, clinking glass, the open and close of the refrigerator. You’re not greened out, you know how that feels (Jason Carver’s basement, Sophomore year), you’re just very high, floating away. And this couch is so comfortable, and the rain is so nice. Your leg is cold where Eddie’s body was. You reach to rub warmth back into it.

This time, he sits back on the couch with you, waiting for you to wrap both hands around the glass of lemonade, ice blocks floating at the top.

“Thanks,” you remember to say, smiling at him over the rim of the glass, small, sweet sips.

“You’re very welcome,” Eddie says, rubbing one eye. The room has a smokey haze, now you think about it, all the windows closed against the rain. The air is warm and close in a dreamy way. The movie is about to end, Jennifer Connolly has her brother in her arms. The lemonade clears your head so you don’t feel so much like you’re about to melt into nothingness. Eddie is watching you carefully, and you try to act normal, movements robotic.

“Still with me?” He asks, as the credits roll. You’re sucking on an ice block, rolling it around behind your teeth.

“Yeah,” you say around the ice, “still with you.”

“Good,” he says, gets up to turn the television over to a live channel. There’s an I Dream of Jeanie episode playing. You notice it blearily, feeling Eddie take the empty glass back from you.

“I can’t go home like this,” you say to yourself, noticing how you’ve half collapsed into the corner of the couch, head propped up by pillows and the arm. One of your legs is tucked up into the crook of your body.

“That would be a bad idea, I think,” Eddie agrees, his head coming into view above you.

“What time is it?”

“Just past 9. But. It’s still storming.”

You close your eyes to think. You feel sleepy in a comforting way, the haunting insomnia of senior year far away. You know you shouldn’t be here, but you feel relaxed like you haven’t in a long time. Sat on this couch with him. Really, you’ve known Eddie your whole life, orbiting each other in a small town. It makes sense, somehow, that you’d end up here together, trapped by weather. But maybe that’s just the weed.

“Can I use your phone?” You ask. Damage control time.

“Yeah, of course. Look, you know. You can stay here, if you want. I can sleep on the couch.”

You open your eyes to blink up at Eddie, who’s rubbing his hand across his chest, not meeting your gaze, looking at the pillow you’re still holding.

“Are you sure? It’s just. The rain. And the weed.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Besides, if you get in trouble, I’ll get in trouble,” Eddie says. Something hot and urgent flares in your chest. You sit up, ignoring the head spin.

“I wouldn’t tell,” you say, grabbing his wrist so he looks at you, “You know that, right? If I got caught, I would never say you’d sold it to me.”

Eddie is doing his lazy smile, just one side of his mouth. Something is shining in his eyes though.

“You really know how to get a guy all mushy,” he says, “Not ratting me out, now that’s romance.”

You grin back at him, the word romance getting stuck in your chest. You realise you’re still holding his wrist, fingers flexing before you let go. Eddie clears his throat.

“I’m gonna shower, you can use the phone or whatever,” he gestures to it on the wall near the kitchen, “What’s mine is yours, mi casa et tu casa, etc cetera and all that.”

“Thank you,” you say to his receding figure, take a second to gather yourself before you stumble up and to the phone, plugging in your home number. You listen to the shower turn on as you explain to your mother you’ve got stuck at Nancy’s, that you’ll be home in time for Church in the morning. You definitely do not think about Eddie undressing in the room over, standing under the shower, the water streaming over his naked body. What would he look like? You’ve seen the tattoos on his arms, but does he have more, hidden under clothing? Does he face up into the water stream? Does he use conditioner? Your mother says something about homework and you blink the image away.

You wander into the bedroom after soothing your mother’s concerns, find it how you expected, messy and boyish. Clothes on the floor, posters haphazard on the walls, various drug paraphernalia. A guitar slung over the mirror. A dog eared copy of Lord of the Rings on the bedside table. The bed is unmade, and you tug the doona back into place before you sit down, mentally committing the room to memory. It feels strangely important, knowing everything about this space. It shouldn’t feel like this, really. You shouldn’t need to know every part of him. But everything is obscured by the rain, so nothing is real. This is a moment outside of time. Just for you, in his most private of spaces.

“Oh,” Eddie says, finding you in his room, just a towel around his waist. His hair is roughly dried and dripping down his chest.

“Sorry,” you say, standing up, a blush high on your cheeks. Caught.

“No, I just uh - Didn’t expect you in here,” he says. You drag your eyes off his chest, trying to track all the tattoos, the images he’s chosen to have on his body forever. His body isn’t what you expected. What did you expect? He’s all lean muscle, a boy almost grown into the figure of a man.

“I won’t look,” you say, cover your eyes, smile when he laughs.

“Alright, eyes shut,” Eddie says, and you stand resolutely still, listen to him move around the room, the rustle of fabric. You imagine him dropping the towel, naked in the room with you, choosing what clothes you’ll see him in next. At one point, you feel his hands around your shoulders, moving you off to one side.

“Sorry, just, here,” he says, and you hide your stumble when he lets go, listen to the dresser draws open behind where you just were.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sure where he is in conjunction to you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, right by your ear. Your stomach drops out.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You ask, ignoring the crack in your voice. Hoping he does, too.

“Almost,” he says, and you listen to his footsteps come closer, then, “Okay, now you can.”

You blink against the light of the room. He’s changed into soft looking sweatpants, an oversized Metallica shirt with a hole in the collar. His hair is still damp around his shoulders, spreading wet.

“Everything okay with Mommy and Daddy?” Eddie teases, sitting down in a rickety chair by the cluttered desk. You return to the edge of the bed.

“No. But, yeah.”

Eddie nods wisely, like he understands everything. Maybe he does.

“I gather you didn’t tell them where you were,” he says, picking at a seam of wood.

“God, no. I said I was at Nancy’s.”

He seems to consider his next words, then, “What would they say, if they knew you were here?”

You cross your ankles over, hands either side of yourself, curled into the bedspread. Your eyes are itchy from the smoke.

“Maybe they’d send the cops, I don’t know. Something bad.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, rocks back in the chair precariously, “Probably with good reason. Who knows what satanic Eddie is gonna do to their precious little daughter.”

You blink. Swallow. “What. What is he gonna do?”

Eddie looks at you, and his eyes are heavy and dark, then the smile splits his face and he’s laughing, “God, your face. Nothing, oh sweet princess, nothing. You’re safe with the big bad wolf.”

“Are you saying I’m little Red Riding Hood? Because I’m not a ginger, I won’t stand for that,” you protest, and he grins at you.

“Darling, I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good,” you say, chin jutted.

“Now,” Eddie says, claps his hands together as he stands up. The sound breaks the moment, whatever it was, the movement of him. “Did you want clothes to wear to bed?”

You stand up with him, body still slow with weed, “yeah, please.”

You change in the bathroom. The bathroom mirror is still steamed from his shower, and you can smell the apple body wash he’s used. It feels weirdly intimate, occupying the same space he just did to clean himself. You’re methodical about changing, folding up your shorts and t-shirt, into a Dio shirt that swallows you and a soft pair of his boxers. These are the clothes he’s chosen for you, he thought about you when he pulled them out. The fabric is well-worn and comforting on your skin. You blink at yourself in the mirror. Tracking back through memory. Why are you here? Still? Why is everything shaded quiet and warm, here, with him. Circling each other for so long, gravity pulling each other closer and closer until you’re here, hiding from a storm, settled with Eddie to watch it pass. You take a deep breath.

When you emerge, sneakers in hand, clothes held against your chest, you find Eddie on his bed, strumming at his guitar. The chord breaks as he looks up at you, quiet smile.

“All good? God, that’s huge on you,” he laughs, “you look like a ghost. But a metal ghost.”

“Thanks,” you say, making a little pile of your stuff by the door, “Because that’s the kinda ghost I wanna be.”

Eddie plays quietly as you flit around the room, picking up things and putting them down again. Intrigued by what he’s chosen to keep close around him. The shower has cleared your head, although the remnants of the high shade everything hazy and dim. Eventually, you get brave enough to climb into bed. The rain is louder in here, three walls exposed to the weather. Eddie doesn’t look as you settle, just keeps playing. You watch the muscles in his back move.

“Alright,” he says, eventually, standing up, returning the guitar to its place, “Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You’re half asleep, sat up in the bed but with heavy eyes, soothed by the rain and his playing, bleary as you realise he’s leaving, retreating to the couch. You want to say stay so you don’t let yourself open your mouth, watching him take a blanket from the end of the bed, turn the light off, then the shape of his body in the dark and the quiet close of the door. Then here you are. Alone in Eddie Munson’s bedroom. In his t-shirt. Expected to sleep. Leave in the morning like this is normal. Suddenly sleep feels very far away, staring up at the ceiling, eyes kaleidoscoping against the blackness. Somehow the rain seems louder in the dark. You hear the sound of the television being turned down, the heavy sounds of his body on the couch. Is he comfy? He’s tall, he won’t be able to stretch out very well. You roll over, pressing your face into the pillow. The sheets smell like him, boy musk, weed and smoke and deodorant. Or is it the clothes he’s given you? You’re in layers of Eddie, his smell is yours now. The shadows of his furniture loom, the wind rattles against the trailer. You think of how he said big bad wolf, the words in his mouth, the way he’d leered at you. It was a joke, but, it made something warm and sticky turn over in your belly. You imagine you can hear him in the lounge, breathing, yawning, turning over. Is he thinking about you? In his bed? Imagining he can hear you breathing?

The courage hits you like a train, and you let yourself get carried away. For once, you don’t think about the decision, just throw off the doona, bare feet on the carpet, move from memory to the door, feel the knob cool and smooth under your palm.

The hallway is dark, and you keep one hand trailing along the wall as you tread into the lounge. You hear him stir, for real this time, the rustle of his hair, the movement as he props himself up on one elbow. The light from the television illuminates him. His chest is bare, his hair messy.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern on his face. It makes your heart hurt.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. It’s just.”

Your eyes flick to the television, back to him, clasp and unclasp your hands.

“You don’t have to sleep out here. It can’t be comfy. It does’t. It doesn’t bother me if we sleep in the same bed. I feel bad,” it comes out all in a rush, more than you meant. Maybe you are still high.

“Don’t feel bad,” Eddie says, still craned around to look at you, a spectre in the hallway.

“I know, but I do. Please. I won’t sleep thinking about it.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Eddie says, sitting up, but he seems wary, brow creased.

“Only if you don’t mind, like, sleeping in bed with me,” you say, winding the hem of his shirt around your hand and back again.

“Why would I mind?” He seems genuinely confused by the idea, head tilted. “Do you snore?”

You laugh, “No, but I talk in my sleep.”

“Great,” he stands up, goes to turn the television off before he comes towards you in the hall, “I wonder what secrets you’ll spill.”

“It’s just gibberish,” you tell him, watching him step around you, the closeness of him, before following him back into the bedroom. His movements are easy, familiar, the routine of going to his own bed. You feel clumsy as you crawl up beside him, take the wall side. The mattress creaks and dips as you settle. It takes you a moment to realise you’re facing each other, gleaming eyes in the dark.

“Hey,” Eddie says, teasing, a smile.

“Hey,” you reply, poke his shin with your foot.

“Jesus, your feet are cold,” he cries out, overdramatic, but you laugh anyway.

You hate sleeping with your boyfriend, never let him stay over if he sneaks in, it feels suffocating, having another human in the bed with you, wriggling and breathing. But Eddie’s presence is soothing, the heavy weight of him beside you, the musky smell of him, the quiet rumble of his voice as he tells you your feet belong in Antarctica.

“Are you sleepy?” You ask, after a long quiet moment. His eyes are closed, long clumps of eyelashes, but he says, “Not really. Are you?”

You could sleep for eons here, under the rain, the steady sound of his breath, knowing you can reach out and touch him if you want, but you say, “Not really.”

“Hmmm,” Eddie hums, eyes still closed but mouth crooked into a smile, “Dilemma.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. The wind has died, finally, and it’s just the patter of rain on the roof, less punishing. You could ride home in this, now, just be damp on arrival. But you don’t get up.

“Eddie,” you murmur, gazing at him, the shape of him in the dark, the lines of his face. As familiar as your childhood, as unknown as adulthood.

“Yeah?” He mumbles, eyelashes fluttering and then his eyes open, wide and brown and warm.

His mouth is soft when you kiss him, the rustle of your face across the pillow to meet him, a chaste press of lips, a drawn out moment before he turns his head, his big palm sliding over your face, opens his mouth to kiss you properly.

He doesn’t kiss like your boyfriend, all punishing tongue that isn’t even that nice, really. He’s slow about it, measured, kisses you like they do in movies, lingering. For a long time there’s nothing but the rustle of the covers as you try and crawl into his chest, panting into his mouth as Eddie kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. He makes quiet sounds every now and then, his hands grabbing at you under the blankets, smoothing over your skin, calloused and rough. A man’s hands. You touch under his shirt, the muscle of his back, imagining the tattoos under your fingertips. He groans when you tug on his hair, and you smile into his mouth.

He’s careful not to to touch you. His hands on your ribcage, but no higher, no lower. You try and encourage, a leg over his waist, kissing open mouthed down his neck and listen to his cut off breath, but his hands stay on the curve of your waist, rubbing warm patterns.

“Eddie,” you say, finally, lips swollen, heart pounding, “You can touch me, if you want.”

He’s panting, chest moving quick under your hands. You can feel him against you, the hard line of him in his sweats, pressed into your belly.

“Are you sure?”

His sweetness is almost sore, your fingers skittering over his cheekbone to brush the hair out of his face.

“Yeah of course,” you say.

“Okay, just. Okay. Tell me if. If I do something you don’t like,” he says, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” you murmur, nudging your nose into his chin, wanting desperately to just be kissing him again, “I will.”

It’s only when his hand is finally, finally, up and over your breast, fingers brushing over your nipple, that you realise no one’s ever told you that before, ever checked. You pull him in tighter.

It feels like he’s a step behind in the dance, but it doesn’t feel disjointed, it just means you get the pleasure of seeing his reaction to every movement you make. When you sit up over him to take your shirt off, his eyes are wide and he makes this quiet, hurt sound, teeth sliding over his lower lip as he hands come up to to touch your tits, massage over them.

“That’s so nice,” you say, dropping your head down close to his, mouth over his jaw.

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie says, his voice by your ear, hot breath. You rock down onto him and he moans, his hands sliding down to your hips, up to your face, back to your boobs, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you the most.

“Do you have a condom?” You whisper, and for a moment the interaction is shocking, in a bell clanging kind of way. Sat on top of Eddie Munson, in his bed, in his boxers, asking if he wants to fuck you. But then he smiles up at you in this dopey kind of way, like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen, and it’s like the camera clicks over, and the picture is again soft and close and warm.

“Is that. Is that what you wanna do?” He asks, as if he’s not grinding you down onto him like he’ll die if there’s no friction.

You laugh, the words so sweet in his mouth, glide your hands over his chest, his shoulders, bring yourself low over him so your tits drag over his skin and you can kiss him again.

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” you say into his mouth, can feel the way his cock jerks against you.

“Okay, yeah, just let me. Hang on,” he says, doesn’t let go even as you slide off him, like he can’t bear it, still kissing you as he gets out of bed. You kick out of his boxers under the covers, watch him rifle through various draws, before he produces a battered box, shakes out a foil packet.

“Is this alright?” He asks, mattress dipping as he returns. You frown.

“Yeah, I mean, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Right,” Eddie says, crawling over you, the condom in his hand. His mouth on your breast, warm and wet, and you tangle fingers into his hair, holding him there. He’s attentive, learns quickly what makes you gasp and twitch, does it over and over again until you feel like you might die. He groans when he realises you’ve lost his underwear, bare underneath him, his hand hot and big slipping over you. You want to be embarrassed about how ready you are, can feel the way his fingers slip over you that you’re too wet, but he’s been so hard it must hurt for awhile now.

“Eddie,” you say, when he’s out of his sweats and you can feel the heavy weight of his cock on your cunt, “Please.”

“Yeah. I. Yeah,” he says, sitting back on his knees, opening the condom packet. His hands are shaking. You reach out, close your own around his trembling ones.

“Eddie, it’s okay. You’ve done this before, right?”

He huffs a laugh, shoulders sinking, “I. Yeah. I. No, I haven’t. But I want too, I really want too, if you just tell me what’s good I can. I’ll try and last, I - ”

He’s talking too much, untethered, unmoored. He looks silver in the light of the moon coming through the window, broad chest, the mess of his hair. Since when was the moon out? You drag him down to kiss him so he stops talking and think, the rain has stopped. The storm has passed. And Eddie Munson is a virgin.

“We don’t have too,” you say, hands sliding down his body, back up into his hair. Can’t stop touching his hair.

“I want too,” he’s insistent, panicky almost. He’s hot and hard against your hip, absent rocks for pressure.

“I just. I want it to be good for you,” he says, doesn’t make eye contact.

“It will be,” you say, and realise you’re not lying. It will be because it’s him, and his hands are so careful on you, his kiss so wanting.

“I’ll help you,” you whisper, touching his swollen mouth with the pad of your finger, “I’ll teach you, we can stop whenever you want, it doesn’t matter, just tell me if you wanna stop.”

“I don’t think I’ll wanna stop,” he laughs, breathless. You smile at him.

“Have you, like, done hand stuff before?” You ask, words awkward, but Eddie rolls his eyes, shakes his hair out of his face.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve done hand stuff.”

“Alright, just checking!” You protest, wriggle your body under him, “Work your magic.”

“My magic?” He crooks an eyebrow, kisses the very tip of your nose, “My magic, she says.”

Then, his hand between your legs, his body to the side of you, hot and long, his mouth on your shoulder, your neck, your cheek. You think it will be like it is with your boyfriend, the only experience you really have to go on, two fingers pushing into you, perfunctory, just opening you up so he can get into you as quickly as possible. But Eddie is slow, sucks on his fingers before he touches you, so it’s slick skin and easy. He whispers to you, his mouth moving over your skin, as he rubs your clit, steady, slides down just to prod at your entrance before he withdraws, teasing, making you clench around nothing.

“That’s good, huh,” he murmurs, “That feels good? You’re so hot, oh my god, look at you.”

You’re so knocked out by it that you can’t do much but pant into his mouth, grip his wrist, move his hand where you want it. And he’s pliant, lets you manoeuvre him, kisses the air out of your mouth. Then one finger, sliding into where you’re hot and wet, not enough but so good, already pressing on a spot that no one but you has ever found.

“Eddie,” you whisper, half a sob, wanting more, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“Yeah, baby? Whatever you want, whatever you want,” he’s saying, and your heart thumps like a bullet, wanting to make him say baby again.

“More,” you get out, flush when he laughs, but he dutifully slides another finger into you, curls them in.

“Is that good?” He asks, and you groan, pressing into his body, sweaty and hot.

“So good,” you gasp.

Already, you want him desperately, your body searching for more of him, all of him, but the next part will be easier if you’ve already come, so you curl into his body, kiss him and breathe him in until you’re whispering, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, right there.”

“There?” He checks, and you can hear his hand moving inside you, slick and hot, his other hand rubbing steady circles on your clit.

“Yes,” you pant, head pushed back into the pillow, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, there, there, God.”

“Just Eddie is fine,” he says, breathless laugh, and you come like that, laughing at him, clenching around his hand between your legs.

He stays very still beside you, his fingers still in you, kissing gently on your shoulder until you can breathe properly again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, peeling open your eyes. He grins. He seems to be vibrating with energy, eager.

“Hey, you,” he says. You whine when he takes his hand away, wiping it on the sheets. Such a boy.

“You ready for the big show?” You ask, reaching for him between your bodies. He sucks in a breath when your hand closes around him.

“Take it away,” he says, his voice thin and wavering, eyes slipping shut.

“You have the condom still?” You ask, and he fumbles around in the sheets for a moment before he produces it, triumphant.

“It’s probably easiest if you’re on top,” you tell him, rolling onto your back, legs spread. Eddie nods, moving over you, sat back to roll the condom onto himself. Your hands move out without thinking, he’s hot and achingly hard, bending forward into your touch.

“Jesus,” he whispers.

“Nope, just me,” you say, grinning at getting him back. He flips you off. Your heart jumps with sudden fondness.

“Okay, come here,” you murmur, reaching for him, suddenly craving his return, the warmth of his body, the heavy, reassuring weight of him. You kiss him, wet and messy, before you reach down, guide him in to nudge against your opening. He’s breathing hard and quick, fists curled into the sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you murmur, blinking open eyes to see his face. His jaw is slack, his brow furrowed with concentration, a needy glaze to his expression. You try to exude calmness and confidence in him, and not the shaking, urgent want to have him inside you, like, yesterday.

The push is slow, and he’s thick, opening you up where his fingers didn’t. The sound he makes is delicious as he slides into you, a relieved groan that goes right to your spine. The breath punches out of him as he sinks home.

“Good?” You whisper, voice hoarse from the way he feels, the stretch of him.

“So good,” he breathes, his lips moving over yours.

“Everything you dreamed of?”

“And more,” he teases.

You can feel him trembling, the urgency of his breathing.

“You can move, Eddie,” you murmur, shifting to wrap your legs around him.

“Yeah, I’m just,” he laughs at himself, drops his chin, “Just concentrating on something here.”

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah. Do that. But, it’s okay. I already came so, whenever is fine.”

“I don’t wanna end it too soon,” he says, and you push the hair behind his ears, kiss him. Can’t speak over the thickness in your throat. Want him so bad it hurts.

He takes some deep breaths, then pushes himself up onto his arms, withdraws, fucks back into you. The rhythm is off, at first, but he’s a quick learner, and you murmur, slower, then, faster, until he’s got it just right, panting, his chest glistening with sweat, and his necklace skipping over your collarbone as he fucks you.

“Eddie,” you gasp, fingers tight around his biceps, gazing up at him, “Eddie, Eddie, s’good, it’s so good.”

“Yeah? Like that? That’s how you wanna be fucked?” His voice is rough and instinctual and you feel like you’re going to explode.

“Yes, yes, God, yes.”

Eddie pants and groans and you vaguely notice the bed thumping into the wall but you can’t care about anything but him and how he feels.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m gonna. I’m close. Fuck,” he says, his voice thready.

“It’s okay, I want it, I wanna see,” you tell him, hands in his hair. There’s suddenly nothing you want more than seeing Eddie come. Fuck college acceptance. Fuck parental approval. Fuck everything. Just Eddie. He’s all that matters.

“Jesus, fuck,” he says, fucks into you once, twice, messily, and then a whole shudder goes through him and he groans out your name, twitching inside you as he comes. You pant and gaze up at him, enamoured. He collapses into your body, like all the strength has suddenly gone out of him.

“Oh my god,” he says into your neck. You laugh, tracing fingers down his spine, feeling him pant.

“Good?”

“So fucking good.”

“I’m glad,” you murmur, and you are. This is something you can hold forever, in a safe spot behind your lungs, that you took Eddie Munson’s virginity. That it will always be you. He’ll always remember you.

“Are you good?” He asks, and you smooth his fringe back to kiss his forehead.

“I’m good.”

It’s nice, having him lie on you, an anchoring weight, sweat drying tacky on your skin. The storm has passed, and outside you can hear the crickets beginning to start up, emerging from the ground to tell tales of the appalling weather to their brethren. You think Eddie might be asleep, but he sighs and slides off you, rolling onto his back. You look at him, suddenly unsure of your place, but he gets up, gets rid of the condom and crawls back into bed, drawing the covers up over you. He seems almost shy as he reaches to touch your belly, curve his hand around your hip.

“Are you sleepy?” He murmurs, tracing a bumping pattern over your ribs.

“Yeah,” you say, and find it’s true. You’re suddenly bone tired, sated. You let yourself wriggle closer, into the encircling warmth of him, and Eddie gathers you in. He smells like sweat and sex and boy and you want to breathe him in forever.

“Don’t snore,” you mumble, and he huffs a laugh.

“I’ll try.”

You want to remember the last time someone said they would try for you, try and make things good for you. No memory arrives.

“Can’t wait to hear all your secrets,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

After tonight, you think he might know them already. Outside, the crickets roar.

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