#i wrote this in an hour hopefully it makes sense
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Benophie fans will crucify me for this, but I want Benedict to wait until season 5. And for good reason.
I want Ben to meet The Girl in Silver in season 3. To fall in love immediately. To be frustrated with Colin for squandering the kind of love he'd give anything to be able to still hold onto. I want him to enlist Super Sleuth Eloise to help him find her. I want, in the final episode of S3, for them to connect the crest on the glove to the late Earl of Penwood. I want him to go to their house and leave dejected when he doesn't find her there.
I want him to not return to Aubrey Hall with his family but to go his own way. Anthony is happy with Kate, Colin and Pen are in newlywed bliss, and Benedict can't bring himself to stick around to watch it all this time. He looks for her everywhere he goes, but to no avail. I want him to cling to her through his art and fail. The smile isn't quite right. He can't hold onto the shape or color of her eyes. He's losing faith in his art. Perhaps he's truly rubbish at it and should give it all up. She isn't anywhere. He parties for the debauchery of it all. Drinks himself stupid.
When Eloise disappears, he's angry. With Eloise for her thoughtlessness, with his family for not paying attention to her, with himself for not being there. Was she kidnapped or did she leave of her own volition? Is she okay? Yet another woman in his life who he cares about and he's not sure what happened, she's just gone. He's angry with Philip Crane. When they find her, he's damn well ready to strangle this man. El may not have come to marry him, but she's still a gently bred young lady. He allowed her into his home knowing her relation to Colin and allowed her to become a governess to his children? Didn't send her home? Or send an express to her family? Acquire a proper damn chaperone for her? It becomes clear that they have to marry. There is no other option. And it is killing Ben to stand aside and let this happen. Watch her be forced, by her own actions yes, but still forced to marry. He can't bear to see his sister unhappy. He still hasn't ruled out killing the bastard.
He's back in town, and his demeanor is worse. Is that why he hasn't seen her? Was she forced to marry? Was she off somewhere trapped like his sister? Was she hurt or scared? Or was she happy? She looked so happy in his arms that night. Was she still happy wherever she was? Without him? Or worse. Had he seen her again and not noticed. Missed her. All he can do is miss her. A girl he knew for barely an hour. And she's just inside him. Forever. He drinks more. Goes to another party. Granville finds him drunk. Maybe Benedict kisses him, maybe he doesn't. It doesn't matter because it wouldn't mean much either way. Because Benedict remembers Granville telling him about love. About being in the same room as the person you can't live without and still feeling oceans apart. Benedict would take that kind of pain over this. To have the luxury of just being able to be in the same room. Maybe he'd never hold her again, but he'd have something. He'd be able to see her. He'd at least know where she was. He has nothing. Even his art is rubbish. He can't hold onto the most basic of details of her. He doesn't even know her goddamned name.
Granville tells him he does have something. He pulls the flask from Ben's hand and places a piece of charcoal in it. That feeling inside. The love. The longing. The pain. Those are things to hold onto. Put them on the canvas. It doesn't have to look perfect. Just draw what you feel. And in doing so, Granville sets Benedict firmly down in the Romantic period the early 19th century was known for. Up to that point Benedict has been drawing from models. A bouquet sent to his mother or sister, a bowl of fruit Anthony kept stealing from, or the nude bodies of the Academy. The Romantic period was about feeling. Forget models, they're a crutch. Use your creative mind, Benedict. And he throws himself into it. A silhouette. The silver of her gown flowing behind her. The way the world darkened around him as she ran away. He goes home to Aubrey Hall reluctantly, but he doesn't sleep. The moment before he saw her. When he'd only felt her. He doesn't sleep, his eyes are crazed. His hands are covered. In ink. In charcoal. In paint. And when Eloise comes into his studio, a broken look in her eyes, he is barely able to register his fury at her husband before he passes out.
He hadn't been taking care of himself. A fever. A bad one. Eloise is crying, begging him not to leave her like this. She needs him to be okay. But he hasn't been okay for a while. And he doesn't know if he'll be okay again. And before long Philip is there. He's there comforting El. He's there forcing some foul tea down Benedict's throat. And then he sleeps. He dreams. And he's in her arms again. And he's feeling peace. When he wakes, he sees El and Philip outside his window. Talking. Holding onto each other. Leaning on each other. He sees Philip looking at his sister like that and realizes that she's got far more power here, over this man, than anyone might guess. He's got tears in his eyes and is holding onto her like he'd simply break if he let go. When they return, they're hand-in-hand. Eloise yells as soon as she sees Benedict. Urges him back to bed. Philip offers to get more tea and Benedict, newfound respect for his brother-in-law, accepts.
Philip leaves them to talk. And they do. Like they always have. Benedict is lost. Heartbroken. But he's starting to find himself again. Perhaps he needs to find himself before he can find her. Eloise might be in love with her husband. And his children. And she's probably with child. But Philip is distant from the twins and she can't do it all by herself. The independent girl needs her husband. She's found something in this world she doesn't want to do all by herself. But, Benedict assures her, she won't. That guy looks like he'd jump off a cliff for her if she asked. She's always been good at telling people what to do. Lean on him. Give him something to do. If Philip needs anything in his life, it's direction. Eloise has to take the reins. She's not going alone, she just gets to be the one driving sometimes.
She makes him promise to take care of himself. If she can learn to lean on Philip, he can lean on his family. The Bridgerton name doesn't always have to be a burden. Says the girl who doesn't have to carry it anymore. He teases. She smiles. Can take the girl away from the Bridgertons, but can't take the Bridgerton away from the girl. She looks happier when she leaves. Resolved. That makes one of them.
When he recovers, he doesn't go back to town. He needs to stop looking for her. He's not giving up, but he's ready to start looking inward instead. Anthony reminds him of one of the Bridgerton properties in the country. The country air might be better for his health. His family is there when he needs them, but it's also okay to need space. So Benedict heads for My Cottage.
Let Ben be our main B plot for S3 & S4 and gear him up for S5. Let Benedict's story be the dangling carrot for renewal. Because by that point fans be rabid for the payoff. Does it need to go exactly like this? No. But it would be fucking DELICIOUS. Give art boy the era appropriate art movement, because have you ever MET someone who fit the term Romantic better than Benedict Bridgerton? I think not. Give me the emotional torture. The drama. The longing. Luke Thompson has the chops to pull it off. I can be patient.
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#my s4 wishlist from Benedict's pov#not quite a fanfic but kinda???#Let's not even go into the part where everyone sees Cinderella in the first bit of the book and misses the Little Mermaid of the rest of it#i wrote this in an hour hopefully it makes sense
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one of my favorite things about Oneshot is like. the why regarding how it makes people cry. i’ve played a lot of games over the course of… my life, so i don’t say this lightly, but i can easily count on one hand the number of different games that have made me cry. oneshot - the true ending SPECIFICALLY! this is important! - is one of them! so why?
if you think about, in the grand scheme of things, what pieces of media have made you cry, you can probably find a sort of pattern. i’m talking not just games, but books, movies, shows, whatever’s your cup of tea. any story. the pattern i’m talking about is very wide-scaled (i’m someone who likes to look at the big picture in things)- it’s that, chances are, you’re crying because something happened to the characters or the world or the story or really anything. you aren’t crying because something happened to you. nothing happening on screen involves you directly in any way. you might relate to something, yeah, and there’s a good chance that’s actually why you’re crying, but no one in the story will ever have any idea you exist. you’re just watching. a spectator. you’re crying for other people, not anything involving you. (and i do say “people” lightly, because this is still fiction, but you get the idea)
except in oneshot. that isn’t the case. the characters KNOW you exist. they directly talk to you, mention you, reference you, you’re a part of the story. you. not whatever video game guy you’re controlling. when niko, this sweet little kid you’ve just been trying to help this entire time, this kid you’ve inevitably gotten closer and closer to throughout the whole game, who talks to you, asks for your opinions and thoughts, mentions you by name, looks to you for support, says goodbye at the very end… i found myself in tears. and not because anything is happening to these characters on screen. because something was affecting me directly, not niko, not whatever player character i’ve given a name to. me. i was saying goodbye to niko, they were parting ways with me. it feels very personal. and goddamn if that isn’t something so special
#probably not a single person already following me knows what the hell im yammering abt#hoping and praying to whatever is out there that this post finds someone on the beautiful horizons that are#Tumblr Dashboard/Search Feature#oneshot game#i wrote this out on a whim at an hour i should not have hopefully this makes any sense
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⸻ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ⸻ kristine froseth. non-binary. she/any. ⸻ i saw SOFIA RUSSELL around THE TOWN, you know? the TWENTY-SIX year old that was driving from SEATTLE, WASHINGTON when they saw the tree on the road. SOF has been here for FOUR MONTHS and i think they were A JUNIOR DOCTOR before they got stuck in the town. with the way things are now, they are now struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy and seek a way out without losing themselves or dying. lets hope you at least survive the night. ⸻
GENERAL INFORMATION. ⸻
full name. sofia russell.
nickname(s). sof, fi, give her some.
age. twenty-six.
gender identity. non-binary.
orientation. bisexual.
place of birth. seattle, washington.
date of birth. 31 december 1996.
former occupation. junior doctor.
3 positive traits. dogged, pragmatic, observant.
3 negative traits. aloof, selfish, manipulative.
moral alignment. lawful / neutral evil. ( to be decided. )
faceclaim. kristine froseth.
TOWN INFORMATION. ⸻
current residency. the town.
current occupation. doctor.
BIOGRAPHY YOUR CHARACTER’S BACKGROUND. ⸻
mother died before she was a year old: the bare bones of a human. she didn’t grow up with photos of her nor did she ever think to ask for them –– what use is a dead woman’s picture anyway? not like i knew her.
inherited by her godmother. an earlier memory, that’s not quite a memory: her aunt’s buttery fingers digging into her doughy neck; her aunt’s soft coos as she cried. marking your neck as a scruff of a newborn animal.
her aunt was an exhausted woman. sofia was a ( newly ) middle child, an awkward pup in a litter of kittens. dressed in the same good clothes for church on sundays: they wore purple when she wore brown; they paired together so she could hear them sitting in the middle of or on the outskirts of their posse.
her aunt bestowed the bulk of her attention on sofia. it created a vicious cycle of resentful exclusion, embittered isolation. she couldn’t foster a healthy view of friendliness, of playing nice. she just had her mother. her aunt-mother. her aunt who was a mother without bearing the moniker of mother.
( all of her children had to refer to her by her first name or renditions of it. if they failed, her soft smile would remain. her chin would lower. her tongue would click. and with the least amount of breath she could muster, she would say, “ i wish you wouldn’t call me that. ” a fraught home that couldn’t articulate its unease until it was too late. until a house could not feel like a home without dread flowing through its doors like air. )
she wasn’t an aggressive child, especially not in school: she didn’t pick nor engage in fights. didn’t see the point: it’s easier to be quiet than bruised. besides, she’s already taught herself to not care about her peers. in her studies, she excels. it’s easy and normal, like a language she couldn’t speak but knew from the grooves of her tongue. natural. it leads her to a medical degree, to a field where the human worth is based on what’s inside. literally, not metaphorically. people are much easier when they’re quiet.
one family gathering: a precursor to easter, to see her god-fearing aunt. it starts and ends as it always does. ( with a fight –– between who? about what? who threw the first punch? who slammed the first door? every gathering melts together in her mind’s eye. stuck in this new town for months, not even remembering why. ) and at some point in the night, she leaves with her breathless car. she would’ve been back within forty minutes to remind her aunt to take her tablets. to clean up after dinner. to tuck herself into bed with an unshakeable migraine, and an equally unshakeable, scruffy, old cat curled into her side. it should’ve been easy.
#from.intro#abuse //#death //#not sure what else to tag .. lmk if i missed sumn#pretend this is pretty like the rest of y'all's intros#wrote this on hour 20 of being awake so hopefully it makes sense 💕
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|| Across The Spiderverse •Incorrect Quotes• ||
Miguel O’Hara: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?
Reader.: It was autocorrect.
Miguel O’Hara: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?
Reader.: Yes.
•
Miguel O’Hara: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.
Reader: Hi, I’m ‘things’.
•
Miguel O’Hara: Y/n, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?
Reader, naked in Miguel O’Hara's bed: No, I absolutely do not.
Miguel O’Hara, already taking off their clothes: Fuck... Me neither.
•
Reader: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.
Peter B. Parker: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.
Reader: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.
Miguel O’Hara, on a walkie talkie: This is Miguel O’Hara, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.
•
Peter B. Parker: This totally sucks, man.
Miguel O’Hara: This is horrible.
Peter B. Parker: Yeah, I know, I mean look at today’s news.
Miguel O’Hara: No, it’s not that, it’s Y/n.
Miguel O’Hara: It’s just like, I can’t get them out of my head and every time I look at them I have this pains in my chest, and I just know it’s their fault, that bitch!
•
Reader: *yawns*
Miguel O’Hara: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.
Reader: Then you must be exhuasted.
Peter B. Parker: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.
•
Peter B. Parker: We have a problem.
Miguel O’Hara: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.
Reader: Ha!
•
Miguel O’Hara: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.
Reader: Aren't you forgetting something?
Miguel O’Hara: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Reader's forehead before running out.*
Reader: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?
•
Miguel O’Hara: I love you.
Reader, not paying attention: What was that?
Miguel O’Hara: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-
•
Peter B. Parker: Is this your plan B?
Reader: Technically, this is plan P.
Peter B. Parker: Plan P? Is there a plan M?
Reader: Yes, but I marry Miguel in plan M.
Miguel O’Hara: I like plan M.
•
Peter B. Parker: I didn't drink that much last night.
Miguel O’Hara: You were flirting with Y/n.
Peter B. Parker: So what? They're my partner.
Miguel O’Hara: You asked if they were single.
Miguel O’Hara: And then you cried when they said they weren't.
•
Reader: Would you like something to drink? *opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-
Miguel O’Hara: Spiders?
Reader: Spiders it is then.
Miguel O’Hara: No, that wasn't-
* But you were already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*
•
Reader: I made tea.
Miguel O’Hara: I don’t want tea.
Reader: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.
Miguel O’Hara: Then why are you telling me?
Reader: It is a conversation starter.
Miguel O’Hara: That’s a lousy conversation starter.
Reader: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.
•
Reader: Must be hard not being able to laugh
Miguel O’Hara: I do have a sense of humor you know
Reader: I’ve never heard you laugh before
Miguel O’Hara: I’ve never heard you say anything funny
•
Reader: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?
Miguel O’Hara: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-
Peter B Parker: Smad.
•
Reader: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?
Miguel O’Hara: *turning to Peter* How tall are you?
•
Miles Morales: How did none of you hear what I just said?
Reader: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.
Peter B Parker: I got distracted about halfway through.
Miguel O’Hara: Ignoring you was a conscious decision
•
Reader: Yo is Miles sleeping or dead?
Miguel O’Hara: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts.
Peter B Parker: Yeah, so did I.
Miles Morales: Okay first of all, fuck you-
•
Reader, setting down a card: Ace of spades
Miguel O’Hara, pulling out an Uno card: +4
Peter B Parker, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you
Miles Morales, trembling: What are we playing
•
Reader: Why is Miguel so sad?
Peter B Parker: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes
Reader: And...?
Miguel O’Hara: I got Miles Morales.
•
Reader: I think we're missing something.
Miguel O’Hara: Teamwork?
Peter B Parker: Cohesion?
Miles Morales: A general sense of what we’re doing?
•
Reader: I think Miles Morales was right.
Miguel O’Hara: I'm surprised they haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'
Peter B Parker: They wouldn't do that.
Miles Morales: You're right, Peter. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.
Miles Morales: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Miles Morales Told You So' on the back*
•
Reader: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.
Miguel O’Hara: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.
Peter B Parker: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-
•
Reader: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.
Miguel O’Hara: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Peter Parker isn’t
•
Reader: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.
Miguel O’Hara: Wasn't Peter with you?
Peter B Parker: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.
•
Reader: HELP! I TOLD PETER I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!
Miguel O’Hara, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?
•
Reader: You look nice, I want to kiss you.
Miguel O’Hara: What?
Reader: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.
•
Reader: As top in this relationship, I think we should-
Miguel O’Hara: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.
•
Miguel : Y/n and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-
Reader: Sentences.
Miguel : Don't interrupt me.
•
Miguel: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.
Reader: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?
Miguel: No! Four to five seconds!
Reader: Too late!!!
•
Miguel: I'm so tough, I'm on alert even when there's no danger!
Reader: Miguel, that's PTSD.
#incorrect quotes x reader#incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes x you#across the spiderverse#spider man across the spider verse#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o hara#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#peter b parker#peter b parker x reader#peter b parker x you#miles morales#spider man x y/n#spider man x you#across the spider verse#across the Spiderverse x reader#Spiderverse
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Hello hello hope you are swell 🩵 I see you do platonic drivers 👀👀
Could it be possible to request a platonic! Reader who is a younger sister (that is also a driver, any team) to a driver of your choice who is given either a drink or meal before going on the race and getting a severe allergic reaction. Like rushed to the hospital asap reaction please 🥺
A/N: The only thing I’m allergic to is bullshit(and mosquitoes), so I don’t know what it’s like to have an allergic reaction to food. Hopefully I wrote this ok but do let me know if there are things I need to change. I decided to keep this as a blurb only because it's so similar to the last oneshot I wrote and I went with Oscar for this one
~~~
“Shouldn’t they be back by now with our drink bottles refilled?” Your teammate asked as you looked over some data. The race was set to start in just under an hour and the matter your teammate was more concerned about is the assistant that had gone to refill both your drink bottles rather than look over data with you.
“They only left a minute ago. I know you’re used to everything going fast but they’re not a race car.”
“Well they better be back soon with my energy drink. I have to drink one before every race. Helps with my performance.” Your teammate said. You just rolled your eyes.
The assistant soon came back with both your drink bottles refilled. You thanked them and took it. As you were about to take a swig, your phone vibrated with a text from your brother, Oscar.
Papaya-Bro: Chit chat before the race?
More often than not, you and Oscar would find each other in your respective drivers rooms to talk before the race. It was a small amount of time where the two of you would talk about anything but racing, giving the two of you a sense of peace before you had to face the chaos of Formula One. You sent him a text that you were on your way over and made your way to the McLaren garage. Some of the McLaren workers waved at you as you walked in, having gotten used to you making appearances in the garage to see your brother.
“Mom wants to know what she should cook for dinner when we come back home.” Oscar said, looking down at his phone while sitting in a chair.
“I’ve been craving her meatloaf for the past couple days. Ask her if she'll make that.” You said, taking a sip from your drink bottle. Your face scrunched up in disgust as you tasted something that wasn’t water on your tongue. You ended up swallowing whatever it was you just drank as your first reflex was to gag at the taste of whatever you consumed. It was sour, with a hint of fruitiness.
“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked.
“This isn’t water.” You said, handing him your drink bottle. “Taste this for me.”
You gagged again and then started to cough as Oscar took a swig of the mysterious drink.
“Yea, that’s not water.” He said. “It’s got a–”
“--fruity taste.” You started to cough more violently while trying to gasp for breath. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you struggled to breath.
Oscar didn’t have time to figure out exactly what the drink was. He was able to guess what was in it though as he witnessed you starting to have a severe allergic reaction to whatever the mysterious drink was.
“I need medical assistance!” He called out into the hallway, hoping anyone heard him. Oscar quickly opened the front pocket of his backpack that always carried the spare epipen and grabbed it. By now you had gotten down to the floor, still struggling to breathe. Kneeling down in front of you, Oscar steadied the orange tip over your outer thigh, before having it make contact with the fabric of your race suit. He pushed the auto inject button till he heard the click. He then looked down at his watch to watch the seconds go by.
“One…two…three…”Oscar then removed the epipen and checked to see if it went in. But to his horror, there was no puncture hole from the needle. Of course race suits that were designed to keep a driver safe from getting burned or injured in a crash can prevent a needle from going through the fabric.
“I NEED SERIOUS MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!” Oscar yelled again. This time someone seemed to have heard him as a McLaren worker came in with a medic right behind them.
“She’s having an allergic reaction! The epi pen didn’t puncture through the race suit!”
The medic took out a pair of scissors and an epi pen before they started quickly cutting the pant leg of your race suit and fire proofs. Once the material was cut away enough to reveal the skin of your upper thigh, the medic didn’t hesitate in administering the epipen, which successfully went through this time. Oscar helped steady the pen while the medic put an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe while the medicine worked its way through your system.
Eventually you were able to breathe again and your throat no longer felt like it was closing up. But you and Oscar both knew that you couldn’t just hop in the car and race. You’d have to be taken to the hospital to make sure whatever allegens you had consumed were fully out of your system. Oscar made sure one of the McLaren personnel went over to your team garage to inform your team that you had an allergic reaction and could no longer race today, before he helped you up off the floor and handed you off to the medical staff.
“Kick their asses for me.” You said to Oscar before leaving, your voice raspy from coughing.
“Will do.” He promised.
~~~
Oscar was a bit rattled throughout the race because of what had taken place just before it. That wasn’t the first time he had to administer an epipen for you, he’s seen you have allergic reactions before. But the fact that it didn’t work the first time is what really freaked him out. But knowing that you were ok and breathing was enough for him to score P3. And the fact that he beat your teammate seemed to make you happy so Oscar took that as a win.
“Because I saved your life today, can you let me freely pass you during the next race and defend me from the people behind?” Oscar asked as he drove you home from the hospital.
“You didn’t save my life. The medical staff did.” You said, playing with the medical band around your wrist.
“I attempted to! If our race suits weren’t made so tough to protect us from crashes, you wouldn’t have needed to be rushed here.”
“That’s kinda a big flaw with the race suits. They can protect us from fiery crashes but prevent someone from administering an epi pen.” You noted.
“I’ll talk with the FIA tomorrow to propose new safety regulations so race suits have to be made so a giant needle can break through the fabric. I’m sure that will go over well with the other drivers.” Oscar joked. Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from yours and Oscar’s manager.
“Mark just texted me. Apparently the energy drinks my teammate has before every race are now banned from the garage. Turns out it’s got lychee in it.” You told your brother.
“Honestly they should have been banned from the start to prevent what happened today.” Oscar said. You nodded in agreement.
“So you’re not going to let me pass during the next race?” Oscar asked. You rolled your eyes.
“Only if you defend me from my teammate if they end up behind you. Which is often.”
#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x sister!reader#platonic grid x reader
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love bites ♡
—cannibalism, s&m dynamics, bondage, blindfold, ball gag, double penetration, toys | dom!reader/sub!aether, s!reader/m!aether, reader is not gender-specified but does penetrate, aether's genitals are referred to with both cunt and cock (it is mentioned he has two holes + a cervix, but i didn't intend for him to be afab/intersex i just wrote ig?)
—this is short. it's been in my drafts because i wanted to add more but i think this is fine tbh.
The ground below Aether is entirely soaked with his fluids. Both of his holes are filled, being controlled by the remote in your hand. It’s currently at a steady rhythm, but that doesn’t stop him from whining.
Aether’s head tilts back, a muffled groan erupting from his throat as another hit from your whip laid against his bare skin.
His steps staggered on the floor, only able to stand up with the tip of his toes as his wrists were tied too high to the ceiling, his short stature being barely even able to touch the ground with his feet.
It’s only been a couple of minutes or so, maybe an hour? He couldn’t tell accurately with the gag and blindfold numbing most of his senses so that he’d only focus on the pain you were giving to his rear.
The room was quiet except for the occasional screams and hitting, or the liquid that squirts onto the floor as Aether moans loudly onto the ball gag.
It was never easy whenever your jealousy took over you…but it was definitely fun. Especially for the immortal star whose skin was starting to bruise.
“They don’t deserve you.” Your voice rings in his ears.
“You don’t need to think of them, just focus on me.”
You take off the gag, dropping it mindlessly as it clatters on the ground. Next followed the blindfold, and though his eyes were stained, that didn’t take away from their shine.
With ease, you pull out the vibrator in his front. His wetness leaves a trail as you easily pull it out with how wet his insides are.
Aether flinches at the way he’s suddenly left feeling empty.
Although that doesn’t last long as that’s when he feels you stretching his hole, filling him tightly until he’s squirming onto nothing, unable to hold himself or even crawl away.
“If I can’t keep you in here, I suppose I’ll just leave enough marks so everyone knows who you belong to.”
Aether whines at the prospect. He knows it’s a useless threat, especially with how he heals much faster than humans. Stil, he did appreciate the—Oh.
A loud scream leaves the outlander’s throat dry.
“Hnnghh—Aahh…Haah!”
His entire body shakes from the pain, his movements causing you to go deeper into him. A cry leaving him from feeling everything all at once.
He did not expect you to do that.
“S-So mean…” He breathes out, watching the blood from his shoulder drip down his body. Yet there’s a matching red blush on his face, as if what you did was something all normal couples do.
“You taste good.” You compliment, the torn flesh going down smoothly as you swallow.
Aether’s face leans towards you as if asking for you to share what his own body tastes like. Your lips close together, his tongue grasping the remains from you biting a part of his collar. He’s never tasted himself before, though that thought was always something he was curious about, the only problem was that he was too much of a coward to do it.
You two continue kissing, you pressing deep into his cervix, the pain coursing through him as he matches your rhythm.
“You’re so cheesy…” He states after he finally pulls back.
“What else am I supposed to do if you keep healing through all the marks I make? Hopefully, this one lasts more than a week.”
“It will…Maybe, you can just bite me again to be sure…” He suggests.
“This is supposed to be your punishment, you know?” You remind him, though it’s difficult to stay mad with the kind of faces that he pulls against you.
“It’s not my fault you get jealous easily.” He refutes.
“I don’t.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Aether says, smiling as he snickers a laugh which quickly gets cut off when you continue thrusting into him again.
“You speak when I tell you to.”
He doesn’t get to argue this time, his mind too focused on the way he’s getting penetrated so deeply. He’s forced to take each pounding, each inch that rubs against his walls sending him closer to another orgasm. His choked-up sounds continue to leak out with the thought of you being so possessive of him.
Your hands reach his cunt, his swollen cock begging to be touched. And so you fulfill that wish, earning another whimper when you slap his cock.
He’s so out of it. He loves how his body feels so much of a wreck, his sweat mixing with blood, and eventually with his cum.
He pants, his hands still tied up. His entire body trembles, the feeling of you pulling out is so agonizing itself. He wants to keep you in, he needs it. He has to take advantage of you as he doesn’t know how long until he can experience this high again.
So with a shaky voice, he asks.
“More?”
#plattered writings#sub aether#aether x reader#genshin aether x reader#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#genshin impact smut#genshin smut
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The Stakeout
Crosshair x f!reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Prompt: “you’ve gone to far this time”
Summary: Sent to gather information on a potential separatist spy, you’re partnered with Crosshair to watch your target from above. Pairing you with Crosshair made sense at first, but after spending two weeks in a small room with him, you’re just about ready to snap.
Warnings: NSFW! Minors DNI. Smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, swearing.
A/N: hi! Another story for the @cloneficgiftexchange I decided to try something new by writing some smut. I’ve never written anything like this before so hopefully it’s alright. I was also aiming for enemies to lovers but it turned into something a lot softer. I wrote this for @heavenseed76 I really hope you enjoy it!
At first the pairings made perfect sense. The mission was to gather intel on a potential separatist spy from afar. So you had split into three teams of two.
With Hunter’s tracking abilities and Wreckers need for action, they were best suited for following your target from the ground - listening into conversations, watching what was bought and sold.
Tech and Echo were to remain on the marauder, which was parked just outside of the small beach town, tasked with monitoring comm channels and keeping in contact with command. If a quick getaway was needed then you also wanted Tech in the pilots seat.
And with Crosshair’s eyesight and sniper skills, and your patience and attention to detail, it made sense that the two of you were paired together to watch from above, monitoring your targets larger movements around the town.
Two weeks into sharing a single room with Crosshair was starting to make you wish you two didn’t make such a good pairing. The man was insufferable. He didn’t pick up after himself, leaving clothes and wrappers littered around the room. He was always grumbling under his breath about one thing or another. And his stupid toothpicks. It made you furious every time he used the stupid things to point at you as he talked.
But the real reason you were struggling with this mission was because despite all the ways he got on your nerves, Crosshair held all your affections. You cared for him more deeply than you should. And being caged in a single room with him for the past two weeks was wearing you thin. With each minute that passed your feelings were getting harder and harder to control.
Each time he silently handed you a ration bar, reminding you to eat, each time he quietly joked with you as you watched the marketplace below you while sharing snacks he had stolen from the vending machine in the hallway, each time you fell asleep by the window and woke up tucked in bed, each time he showed the quiet way he cares has your heart racing and a warm feeling spreading within your chest. He seemed cold and cruel on the surface, but if you knew where to look, Crosshair was a big softie and it had you melting for him.
With each day that passed, you were getting closer and closer to doing something stupid, something that will certainly leave your heart shattered.
Something like grabbing his stupidly handsome face and kissing him. Which is exactly what you did.
•~•~•
It was approaching two weeks of your stakeout. Two weeks of sharing the small, crappy room with Crosshair.
The marketplace below you was quiet, the afternoon rush having come and gone. The vendors were in their final few hours of their shifts before they would be shutting up for the night. Your forehead is pressed to the glass. You know that the target isn’t here. Hunter and Wrecker had commed you earlier, updating you that they had followed the target back to the room she was renting and it appeared that she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. It was completely pointless for you to be staring out of the window but you and Crosshair were instructed to keep round the clock surveillance in case Hunter and Wrecker miss anything. You hum a mindless tune to keep your mind occupied as you watch an elderly woman purchase her groceries.
“Stop humming” Crosshair huffs.
“No.” Your response is dry and you continue humming just a little bit louder than before.
“Stop. Focus on the task.”
“I am focusing. What do you think I’m doing?” You snap. He always had something to complain about.
“I think you’re watching that woman buy her dinner instead of the hotel across the square.”
You feel your face flush slightly at being caught. Curse his stupid enhanced eyesight.
“What woman?” You grumble, but it’s halfhearted and not very convincing. He sighs loudly and shuffles off the bed he was resting on. He drags the second chair over and positions it next to you. You unstick your forehead from the window to look at him, ignoring the fact that there’s probably a red mark on your head, to give him a questioning look.
“If you’re bored you won’t focus properly,” is all he says in explanation. You nod along.
“So what do you propose?” You ask. He doesn’t respond and your annoyance begins to creep in again. You huff and scan the small crowd of shoppers and vendors below you.
“See that blue twi-lek?” You ask, pointing the man out. Crosshair leans forward slightly, studying the man closely.
“What about him?”
“And see that vendor there? The guy with the glasses and pink hair?”
“Yes.”
“Well the twi-lek man definitely has feelings for the vendor. He’s there just about once a day and he always selects an object at random, not studying the produce like other shoppers. He also stays to talk with the vendor longer than anyone else,” you explain.
“Stop loosing focus” Crosshair snaps.
“I’m not! I’m taking in the square as a whole and therefore I notice the other people in it as well” you defend. Crosshair is silent for a moment.
“How do you know?” He asks. You shrug.
“I don’t. Obviously. I’m taking what I’m seeing and making something up to go with it. You have a go.”
Crosshair doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t surprise you.
“I think the vendor is interested in the twi-lek as well. But he’s got a kid and he’s worried that it’ll scare the twi-lek away. It won’t” you continue your story. You go quiet for a moment, studying the crowd.
“That little girl keeps stealing from that particular fruit vendor” you say, pointing the two out. Crosshair doesn’t respond but he follows your gaze to see who you’re talking about and you smile to yourself. “She only does it because the vendors little sister makes fun of her at school.”
“That man by the herbal store,” Crosshair points out. You seek out the man he’s talking about and find a neatly dressed man’s pacing and muttering. You hum your acknowledgment and you feel Crosshairs gaze flicker to you for a moment.
“He’s going to propose tonight.”
You turn to look at him and give him a surprised look.
“I didn’t pick you for a romantic Cross,” you tease.
“I’m not,” he scoffs. “I saw him buy the ring when we first arrived.”
“Well who’s he proposing too?” You ask.
“How should I know” he huffs in annoyance.
“Make something up” you prompt. He’s quiet for a long moment. You’re just about to come up with a new story yourself when he finally speaks up.
“The girl who grew up next door from him. Their parents are friends so they’ve known each other since they were little, but he didn’t really notice her until she helped him get over his first heartbreak when they were fifteen.”
You turn to look at him again, studying his face, but he keeps it in his neutral scowl. You know that he can feel your gaze on him, but he ignores you. The story is sweet and romantic and a compete surprise coming from Crosshair. You can feel your heart beat pick up slightly. Crosshair could be romantic when he wanted and it only deepens your already overflowing feelings for him. He finally spares you a glance and you realise you’ve been staring at him. You clear your throat.
“Which holo-novel did you get that one from?” You gently knock his shoulder with yours in your attempt at teasing him, but it feels awkward and you internally cringe.
“Fine then I won’t play your little game.”
You pout at him playfully but it softens into a smile.
“You just surprised me is all. Didn’t think you had it in you Cross.” You hesitate before you continue, not wanting to risk overstepping. “I like you like this.”
He turns away from the window and looks at you. You’re already watching him. The two of you spend a moment just studying each other. Crosshair breaks it first, leaning forward to gently run his thumb over the still lingering mark on your forehead from leaning on the window earlier. He smooths his thumb across your skin, as if he’s trying to wipe away the faint redness. It’s soothing and soft and oh so tender.
His face is so close to yours, your breaths mingling together. He makes eye contact with you, his hand still on your face, and there’s a gorgeous warmth in his eyes and you just can’t control your emotions anymore.
You bring your hands up to his face and lean in, closing the gap between the two of you. The kiss you give him is sweet and tender, mirroring his previous actions. His hand on your face moves to the back of your head as he kisses you back. A glorious warmth fills your chest.
It’s quickly erased a moment later, however. Crosshair pulls back sharply, leaning as far back in his chair, as if to get away from you.
That sweet warmth turns into burning embarrassment. You’ve ruined everything now.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked. I’ve overstepped and-“
“Don’t.”
You stop talking and look at him, waiting to see what else he has to say. But he doesn’t say anything. Typical.
“Cross-“
“Just don’t do it again.”
Kriff.
You can feel your heart shatter. You’ve read it all wrong. He doesn’t feel the same.
“I’m sorry. I thought you liked me. I misread the situation and I should have asked. I’m sorry Crosshair.” You’re rambling, but you don’t know what else to do. You feel bad. You’ve put him in a situation he probably never thought he’d be in.
“I do like you.” He says it simply, like it’s glaringly obvious. Like he didn’t just tell you to never kiss him again.
“What?” Your brain is taking too long to catch up. “Then why…” you trail off.
“It’s you that doesn’t like me” he states plainly. You’re still confused, but it melts into annoyance and a bit of anger.
“Crosshair- what?” You question. “Of course I like you! I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you.” He shakes his head.
“Stop it. You don’t.” He tells you. Your anger really starts to simmer. Who was he to tell you how you felt.
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap at him. “Don’t tell me that I don’t like you as if I didn’t just risk our entire relationship to kiss you. Like I haven’t pined after you for months. Like you didn’t catch my attention as soon as I joined this team.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You’re both furious and flabbergasted. Your mouth is opening and closing like a fish as you struggle to find the words to express your fury. Crosshair speaks before you can find them.
“You don’t actually like me. I’m just your chance to prove you were a little rebellious. That you slept with someone other than the vanilla partner you’ll end up with. You’ll tell the story of the daring few months you spent with me at your girls night to gain a few gasps. Ultimately, I’m just a quick fling to get it out of your system before you settle down for a quiet, boring life.”
He says it all plainly, his voice dry and lacking any real emotion. He says it as if he’s describing the weather.
You finally find your voice again and you just snap.
“You’ve gone too far this time, alright! This isn’t just a fling to - to ‘get it out my system’. This isn’t some attention seeking rebellious act or a story to laugh about with some boring date or partner in the future. What I feel for you is real. Do you want to know how I know this?”
“Pray tell.”
“Because I hate it! I hate the way you make me feel! I hate your stupid voice and your stupid comments. I hate your toothpicks and I hate the way you glare at me. I hate that you’re so charming without even trying and I hate the quiet ways you care for me. I hate you!”
You pant as you try to catch your breath. You stare at him but he gives no indication that he’s going to say anything. You hate how he speaks when you don’t want him to and is silent when you desperately need him to speak. You huff in annoyance, but all the fight has left you.
“I hate you so much and yet… here I am, yearning for you.”
He moves so quickly, you almost don’t register it until he’s in front of you. He grabs your face in both hands, and he kisses you. Fiercely. It’s deep and passionate and desperate. It takes you a moment to respond, but when you do you kiss him back just as hard.
He starts walking you backwards, his lips never leaving yours, until you feel your back press against a wall. It’s no longer just his lips and hands on you as he presses his body onto yours. You can feel all of him - his hard chest, his hips, his strong thighs - and yet it’s not enough. You need more.
He breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t move away from you. He studies your face for a moment before he speaks.
“I’m yours whenever you need me,” he murmurs in your ear, his lips brushing your earlobe before he begins tracing a path of soft kisses down your neck. Your breath stutters as you try to speak.
“I need you now Crosshair. I always need you.” You let out a small moan as his teeth run over your pulse point. He focuses on this spot, sucking and nipping until he’s satisfied with the mark he’s left behind.
“Tell me what you want, doll” he says, pulling away from your neck to look at you. You whine and turn your face away from him. He makes a disappointed sound as he gently grabs your chin to turn your face back towards him. “None of that now. Prove you can handle me. Look at me as you tell me what you want.”
He’s wearing that insufferable smirk. The one that makes you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. It’s the stupid smirk that makes you push him off you and backwards until the back of his knees is hitting the bed. You push him down before straddling his lap. He doesn’t believe you can take him, but you are more than happy to prove him wrong.
“First, I want this off” you say as you begin mouthing at his neck, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging the material upwards. He leans back slightly to allow you to slide his shirt further up his body and you take your time as you graze your fingers over his newly exposed skin. You drop the shirt carelessly on the ground, unable to tear your eyes or hands away from his gorgeous golden skin for very long. You trace your fingers over his chest and abdomen.
“See something you like?” His voice has a teasing lilt to it. You lift your gaze back up to his dark eyes. You can’t help your cheeky smile.
“It’ll do.” You add a small shrug to add effect.
“Well in that case-“ he moves you off him and gets up, walking away from you, giving you a wondrous view of his back.
“Crosshair don’t you dare!” You whine.
“That’s what I thought” he smirks. He stands in front of you and he hooks his fingers under your shirt. He stills though, silently asking for your permission. Something in your chest melts a little before you nod. You expect him to rip the fabric from you, instead he takes his time, brown eyes taking in every inch of your skin that’s exposed to him. Your heart races in your chest as he takes you in.
Once the offending garment is finally on the floor somewhere you reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to you in a searing kiss. Your emotions bubble under your skin and you need him. He runs his hands over your waist as you kiss, taking in the feel of you under him. Wanting more, you unclasp your bra, tugging it off without breaking the kiss. Crosshair groans into the kiss and you drink up the sound, wanting to hear it over and over again.
Crosshair pulls away, his eyes fixating on your chest. He brushes a finger over a nipple and your breath catches in your throat.
“Kriff look at you” he mutters as if he’s speaking to himself. Then he’s leaning down and wrapping his mouth around your nipple, his fingers lightly tugging at your other one.
“Cross” you keen, arching your back to press your chest further into his warm mouth. You feel the low groan he makes.
“Say my name like that again” he murmurs into your skin, and you oblige him as he switches sides. He moves, sucking a mark onto your chest, before he presses a sweet kiss to it. Your breath hitches and you feel your heart skip a beat. Here he is marking you as his before he’s switching to become soft and gentle.
He doesn’t remain at your chest for very long. He continues to trail down your body, licking and sucking gently as he goes, until he’s hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants.
“Are you alright with this?” He asks, looking up at you from between your thighs. The sight of him sends heat burning through you.
“Crosshair please” you whine. You sound absolutely desperate, but you don’t care. Whatever it takes to get him to finally undress you.
His eyes darken at your words and he’s tugging your pants and underwear down in one swoop, shoving them on the floor so he can finally get a look at you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze for a moment but he takes it all away when he looks back up at you again.
“You’re stunning” he rasps, moving back up your body to kiss you deeply again, his tongue exploring your mouth expertly. You run your hands over his back, taking him in, but they quickly move to grip his shoulders when his fingers swipe through your folds. You gasp into his mouth and he pulls away so he can hear the noise you make as he presses a single long finger into you.
“Look at you,” he groans, “so wet and tight and making the prettiest noises for me.” You moan at his words, but also the rough sound of his voice as he starts thrusting his finger, searching for the little spot that’ll have you seeing stars. You let out a cry when he brushes over it, clenching tightly around his finger. He smirks at your reaction before inserting a second finger.
“You feel so good” you groan, loving the stretch from his fingers alone. He picks up his pace, fingers moving rapidly, leaving you moaning and squirming beneath him. You can feel your release building and building. You’re almost there, you just need a little more to get you there.
“Crosshair” you plead, not quite able to find the words to convey how close you are. He can tell though, the way you squeeze and flutter around his fingers is indication enough. He presses his thumb to your neglected clit, tracing short tight circles over it as he leans down, mouth brushing at your ear.
“Come on doll, show me how gorgeous you look coming around my fingers.”
His simple command muttered in his rough voice sends you flying over the edge. You grip at his shoulders desperately as you clench around his fingers. He continues his movements, working you through your orgasm until your grip on him loosens. He places sweet kisses along your neck as he removes his fingers and lets you come down from your high.
You pant a little as you catch your breath, but as Crosshair shifts above you, you feel his length brush over your thigh and you feel your arousal and need growing again. As he continues to lather your neck with kisses, your hands move to his pants, quickly unbuttoning them. Just as you go to push them down you pause, looking up at the man above you.
“Can I touch you?” You ask. Crosshair lets out a groan, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
“Please” he murmurs. You push his pants down enough to get them out of the way before you take his hard length into your hand. He’s long and oh so pretty. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You want nothing more than to flip him over and to taste him.
“Next time doll,” Crosshair says as if he can read your mind. “As nice as having your mouth on me would be, I need to be in you. Now.”
You pump his length a few times, which earns you a groan through gritted teeth and a warning look from him. You smile up at him sweetly which he chuckles darkly at.
“Looks like I underestimated you, doll. Looks like you can handle me just fine.” He grabs your hands, pinning them above your head with one hand, the other making quick work of shoving his pants off before lining the head of his cock up to your entrance.
His movements were so swift and effortless it leaves you breathless and speechless for a moment. He doesn’t give you long to gather your wits before he is pushing into you with a smooth thrust. It completely knocks your breath out of you. You try to move your hands, needing desperately to grab hold of something, anything to ground yourself, but his grip on your wrists remains firm. You gasp as you clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.
“Fuck Crosshair! You’re so big. You’re s’good” you slur. He gives you his insufferable smirk, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment.
“My babydoll is drunk on my cock and I haven’t even moved yet” Crosshair teases, pride written across his features. This sobers you up a little.
“Just shut up and move” you grumble. Crosshair kisses you, remaining annoyingly still inside you. You whine into the kiss. When he pulls away, he begins to pull out.
“You’re lucky I like you,” he says before he thrusts back into you, beginning a steady pace. You cry out at his deep thrusts and his quick pace right off the bat.
“That’s right. Let all the neighbours hear just how good I’m making you feel.” He changes his angle slightly as he says this, hitting your sweet spot deliciously, causing you to moan loudly as you clench around him.
“Only you make me feel this way Cross,” you manage to stutter out, brain going hazy with the pleasure he’s giving you.
“Such a good girl for me. So wet and tight, all for me.” You whine at the praise, feeling the pressure of your release starting to build. He pushes into you harder, feeling your walls flutter around him. He presses his thumb to your clit, circling it intently.
“You’re close, I can feel it. Feel you clenching and fluttering around me. You feel divine doll. Now show me what you look like as you come on my cock. Let me hear all the pretty little sounds you’ll make.”
His words murmured in his husky voice send you over the edge. He lets go of your hands and they grip at his shoulders desperately, nails digging into his skin as you cry out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure he is giving you. Just as you’re beginning to come down from your high his hips begin to stutter.
“So good for me. You’re so good for me. Where-?” He asks hurriedly.
“Inside. Please” you beg. He groans deeply as he gives a few more thrust before you can feel the warmth of him spilling into you. He collapses onto you for a moment while the two of you catch your breaths. The weight of him is comforting and you can feel his heart beating against your chest. A content warmth settles in your chest as you draw aimless shapes across his back. The gesture seems to bring him back to his body. He pulls out of you and rolls off you, causing you to whine at the loss. He chuckles as he pulls you into him, wrapping you up in his arms.
“Don’t worry doll, I’m not going anywhere.”
He brings the blanket up over the both of you and you feel so safe and warm. You bask in the feeling for a moment.
“I meant everything I said you know.” Your voice is quiet, laced with sleepiness. “I really do want you. If you’ll have me.” Crosshair doesn’t respond, but his grip around you tightens.
You’re fast asleep when he finally does respond, his words a gentle whisper into your hair.
“I am yours entirely.”
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Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???
I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️
-------------------------------------------------------
Luck was never on Steve’s side.
He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.
It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.
And now his parents were home.
He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.
He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.
He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.
His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.
He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.
Wishful thinking.
His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.
“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”
Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.
His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.
“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”
Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.
“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”
Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.
“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”
“Not hungover.”
Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.
“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”
Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.
“Eddie. Call?”
Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.
“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”
“Robin.”
“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”
Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.
Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.
“No. Eddie.”
“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”
His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.
He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.
Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.
Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.
He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.
“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”
“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”
“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”
“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”
He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.
His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.
“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”
“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”
“Loves me.”
“What was that?”
Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.
“He loves me.”
He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.
His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.
When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.
“Robs.”
“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“Eddie?”
“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”
“At me?”
“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”
Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.
But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.
“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.
“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”
“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”
So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.
He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”
“Yelling?”
“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”
“Got me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”
He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.
As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.
“He’s got us, at least.”
“Yeah, he does.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#platonic stobin#steve's parents suck#migraine steve again i know okay#but it's just so gd good#soft and protective eddie#soft and protective robin#requests
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Something out of a rom com | Steph Catley x reader
Summary; The night of Steph’s 30th birthday party leads to the telling of your romantic love story that really should be made into a rom com.
Words; 2.5k
Pairing; Steph Catley x reader
Warnings; none really, pure fluff
A/N; This is in honour of her birthday and I wrote it because I had the idea during a shower and I just had to write it. It might not be the best but hopefully it's cute and decently written. I’ve also got two blurbs for other players in the process atm so stay tuned for that!
The 26th of January. A seemingly normal day to most people, but it was in fact one of your favourites. It not only marks the day you met the love of your life and future wife, but it coincidentally happened to be her birthday as well. It also happened to be today's date once again.
So here you sat in your shared living room, Steph snuggled up to you on the couch surrounded by some of the people who loved her the most after a very successful 30th birthday party.
A lot of other party goers had left as it was getting late, except for almost half of her Arsenal teammates who always seemed to linger after events such as these, not that you minded.
Different conversations littered the room, most didn’t make sense because of the alcohol that was still flowing. But it was the newest team member Emily Fox who brought the group back together.
“So, how long have you guys been together?” Emily asked, sitting directly across the room from you and Steph.
“Almost 3 years now.” Steph smiled at her and the rest of the group listened in.
“Oh my god, their relationship story is like something out of a rom com!” Jen talked excitingly whilst looking at Emily.
“What do you mean?” You looked at Jen first and then down to Steph who looked just as confused.
“Wait, I’ve never heard the full story.” Kyra piped up from her place on the floor beside Alessia.
“Me either.” Alessia raised a finger while looking between you and Steph.
“It’s not that exciting.” Steph let out a laugh which caused Kyra and Alessia to pout.
“Yes it is. Now listen up children…” Beth cleared her throat from the other edge of the couch next to Viv who was rolling her eyes as Beth began to tell your love story.
6 years ago, January 26th 2018
“Oh come on, just let us go out one last time before you leave me forever!” Your best friend was standing in your room as you laid on your bed and stared up at her.
“Do I have to?” You tried giving her puppy eyes but it wasn’t working, she walked closer to your bed, sitting down and taking your hands in hers.
“You, my best friend of 10 plus years, are leaving me for London for who knows how long.” She pouted at you. “Of course you have to go out with me one last time. So get up, look hot and start drinking.” She pulled your covers off you and dragged you to your vanity, placing a drink in front of you and leaving to go get ready herself.
Over an hour later you were both ready and a little tipsy, ready to leave and adventure into the Melbourne nightlife.
It took a while for you to find a club that was half decent and didn’t have ridiculously overpriced drinks but you secured a place in the corner and were finishing your like 10th drink of the night.
“I’m going to get another, you want one?” You shouted over the music to your friend and pointed to the bar. She shook her head before talking into your ear.
“I’m gonna go on the dance floor, come find me when you're done?” She pointed to where most people congregated and you sent her a thumbs up before weaving through way too many drunk people.
You accidently bumped into someone as you tried to reach the bar, someone else pushing you in the crowd causing you to fall into her.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologised as she began to turn around and you suddenly found yourself staring at the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t even, it’s so fine.” She replied with a sweet smile and placed a hand on your arm sending chills up it.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s your birthday?” You laughed as your eyes drifted down the sash she was currently wearing.
“My friends made me wear it, hoping I could score us a few free drinks.” She shook her head and laughed with you.
“Well, let’s not disappoint and let me buy you a drink.” You smiled at her and if it weren't for the dark lighting, you would have seen the blush that accompanied her beautiful smile.
“You don’t have to.” She immediately rejected but this time you reached down and held her arm.
“I insist, birthday girl.” You winked before leading her through the crowd again and finally reaching the bar. “Order whatever you want.” You leant down to her ear as you waited for a bartender.
She politely asked the bartender for her drink of choice before he looked over to you.
“Make it two, please.” You smiled before pulling your card out to pay. You both thanked the bartender before walking away and standing against a wall out of the way.
“Thank you.” She looked up at you with a smile again.
“My pleasure.” You couldn't stop staring at her, she was the most beautiful person ever and she was talking to you. “Wanna go dance? I told my friend I would meet her when I was done.” You asked after finishing your drinks in silence.
“I would love to, but…” She looked down at her watch and you could feel the smile falling off your face. “I’ve got an early morning and my cut off was supposed to be 12.” She made a pout at you.
“That’s okay, I get it.” You nodded and sent her a tight lipped smile.
“There is something I have to do before I go though.” She sent you a smirk and you creased your eyebrows in confusion.
“What?” You looked down at her, barely having any time to think before she reached up and kissed you hard, placing a hand on your face. Immediately your hand fell to her waist and you fell into a rhythm.
The kiss was very nice and a little long but it ended and you parted with big smiles.
“I really have to go now.” She smiled and let out a little laugh.
“Okay cinderella.” You bit your lip before letting her go and she ran off through the crowd to find her friends. You stood in a daze for a second before a hand clasped your shoulder, shaking you out of your trance.
“Oh my god, who was that?” Your best friend had spotted the end of the kiss as she came to find you but didn’t see her face.
“Um,” You blinked before turning to her. “I… don’t… know.” You realised she never shared her name and neither did you. And now she was gone; a mystery kiss from the mystery birthday girl.
3 years later, May 19th 2021
You have been in London for 3 years now, working for an event planning company, establishing a close group of friends and having the time of your life.
Some of the friends you made had managed to drag you along to a women's football match now that people were allowed back to the matches after the covid lockdown last year, despite your lack of interest in or awareness of the sport, either male or female.
So here you were at Meadow Park on a Wednesday evening, watching a sport you’ve never taken interest in but were enjoying to some degree in the fading spring sun.
“I told you. I knew you would enjoy it eventually.” Your friend shoved your shoulder after seeing you get up when it was thought a shot might finally go in for the home side and her team of choice, Arsenal.
“Yeah, yeah.” You brushed her off, eyes focused on the game at play and becoming more and more invested with each pass.
It wasn’t till halfway through the second half that a certain defender caught your eye as she ran past and towards the opposite end of the field. There was something about her that seemed so familiar but you couldn’t place it.
The game ended in a 0-0 draw and left you with a new interest that would soon turn into a regular outing on Sundays and Wednesdays, instead of your regular dinner and drinks throughout the week.
The players began to do their rounds and you stuck around, waiting to spot a certain defender once again and figure out the mystery that was the jersey with ‘Catley’ plastered over her back.
She had been talking with another player as they walked, eyes scanning the crowd for any fans with signs or hopeful smiles when she found your eyes further up, you resting along the barrier. The words fell from her lips and the player beside her was tapping her shoulder in an attempt to gain her focus once again but it was no use.
“One sec.” She gently spoke before running over to where you were standing, now looking down at your phone and missing her completely until a familiar accent fell on your ears.
“Hi.” She gave you a smile and your head whipped up from your screen, finding that beautiful face from all those years ago in your sights again.
“Hi.” You breathed out as you assessed her features and reassured yourself you weren’t once again imagining those eyes that plagued your dreams every few months.
“Fancy seeing you here, halfway across the world.” She spoke again, noticing that you were in a sort of daze still.
“Uh yeah. Sorry, this is just so weird.” You shook your head, letting out a laugh. “Not in a bad way,” You spoke quickly. “I just never thought I would see you again. Especially not halfway across the world.” She smiled at your shyness, the opposite to the confident you she remembers; though you are quite confident with alcohol in your system.
“Yeah.” Steph laughed and continued to analyse your features, every part of that night coming back to her in full view rather than scattered pieces of memory like she has for the last three years.
“So,” You tried to keep the conversation flowing, realising you would have to wrap up soon so she could get back to her team and you to your friends. “Do you think I could finally get the name and number that's not on the back of your shirt? I think that’s something you forgot all those years ago.” You smiled at her and began pulling your phone from its place in your pocket.
She let out a laugh, a real one before nodding. “Oh yeah. I guess so.” She held your phone in her hands and began adding a contact in, handing it back quickly. “There you go.”
“Thank you.” You took a look at your phone before returning eye contact with her, feeling once again that same thing inside your chest from the night you first met. “I’ll call you, Steph.” You nodded, beginning to retreat from the barrier and up the stairs.
“And who should I be expecting said call from?” She called out to you, stopping you in your tracks to turn your head back around.
“Y/N.” You smiled before being the one walking away this time and leaving her with a dazed expression and confused friends.
“Who was that?” Beth appeared beside her, looking at the retreating girl Steph had just interacted with but couldn’t see the face.
“Um,” Steph shook her head. “An…old…friend.” She turned her face to Beth who was more confused than ever but began walking towards the changerooms with the rest of the team.
Over the next few weeks it seemed like you and Steph were texting every spare second you each had when she wasn’t training and you weren't working, even before you could finally arrange a time to meet up and have your official first date.
She suggested you go out for dinner one night before she was set to go off and play in the delayed 2020 Tokyo Olympics over the summer. You had the best time together, chatting for hours and catching up on everything over the past few years, talking as if you had known each other forever. The night ended and she walked you back to your apartment which happened to be just down the street from hers, once again leaving you with a kiss that left you feeling dazed; but this time she couldn’t run and hide from you.
After watching and cheering on Steph and the national team at the Olympics from home, you knew that this was the person you wanted to pursue a future with.
So when she came back you made it official with one another, a private time for the two of you to continue to learn everything about one another until you were ready to share it with your friends and the world.
After a few months of secretly dating, realising this is how the rest of your life was going to look like, you began to share with friends, family and eventually the media which caused a flurry in the football world because of Steph’s public status. It turned out to be even better for your relationship now that you could express your love for one another to other people.
“And then last year, Steph decided to pop the question the day before Y/N wanted to do it.” Beth concluded the story, somehow managing to keep everyone invested despite the late hour and disappearing energy from tonight's events.
“Thank you Beth, that was quite an accurate retelling.” You smiled over at the blonde, reaching out for a high whilst trying not to disturb Steph who had actually fallen asleep. “But I think you bored Stephy here to sleep.” You brushed the hair on her head and her eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale.
“Huh?” Steph began to sit up, looking around the room in confusion, all of her teammates letting out small giggles, you simply looking down at her with admiration.
“I think you’re too old now for all this partying darling.” You laughed at her watching her face form into a scowl.
“I am 3 months older than you!” She pointed a finger at you, now pouting while looking up into your eyes.
“Well this looks like fun, we’ll leave you two to it then.” Lia spoke for the group as they all began standing from their places, yourself and Steph rising from the couch too so you could say goodbye at the door.
“Bye!” You both waved at the last people before you closed the door, Stephs arms securely wrapped around your waist, head against your chest.
“Let’s get you to bed, cinderella.” You laughed, picking her up by her thighs and carrying her like a koala to your bedroom.
“Thank you, my princess charming.” Steph mumbled into your neck, placing a soft kiss there while you let out a small laugh. Maybe this was like something out of a rom com.
THE END
#steph catley#steph catley x reader#woso fanfics#woso x reader#auswnt#arsenal wfc x reader#arsenal wfc#beth mead#kyra cooney cross#matildas#auswnt x reader
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Won’t Let You Get Away (1/?)
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN! Reader
Summary: Ghost falls hard for one of 141′s new recruits
Warnings: there’s no smut in this one it’s just fluff and exposition
A/N: Just sat down and wrote this because i need to get back into writing again. Gonna be a possessive Ghost x reader fic hopefully because that’s like crack to me rn. Will probably get pretty dark & into some trauma in later chapters so heads up now if you aren’t into that. May or not edit this later for coherency but I am not doing it now. :)
From the day Ghost first met you, he knew you were going to be his undoing. Happy, bright eyes looked directly at his own, unafraid to see the person underneath the skull mask and fearsome reputation. Ghost no longer kept up with the mythology surrounding himself as doing so would take entirely too much time away from him, time that he preferred to spend training instead. Even after working with him for some time, most soldiers still preferred to train their eyes to the bottom of his mask, unable to fully meet the cold gaze of their Lieutenant.
You had to have heard the stories. There was no way that you’d make it all the way to 141 without being told at least one about its shadowy Lt. Sometimes, during R&R at base, Ghost could hear some of the grunts whisper incredulously about him and still, when he turned to face them, hardly anyone would allow themselves to be caught staring at him.
Given the way that most tended to leave him alone as if he were an apex predator, your kindness surprised him. A high level of respect accompanied the title of Lieutenant, and you managed to inject a sense of warmth into your conversations with him. While he was used to being feared, he felt genuine admiration from you, something that he hardly received from anyone else in 141.
You had asked him to help you train, and your willingness to admit your own weaknesses impressed him. You were an excellent sharpshooter, but when the enemy was up close, you struggled at hand to hand combat. It especially didn’t help that you simply weren’t as big as many other soldiers. As huge as your spirit felt in your body, it just didn’t have the mass that you felt you had. So, in order to improve, you asked the largest guy in 141 to practice with you, the Lieutenant.
The two of you trained hard, sometimes at odd hours, but you wanted to feel competent in any situation. Defending yourself, even in the depths of fatigue was worth being awoken at 2 or 3 am for impromptu training. Despite feeling groggy and discombobulated, you put all the effort you could give into all of your sparring sessions. Slipping out of holds became easier, and you learned that with the right timing, you could use his mass to your own advantage in a fight. Even when you failed and ended up with a face full of dirt, you got up and brushed yourself off, sometimes even cracking a joke before trying to analyze where you could’ve done better.
He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, and this scared him deeply.
#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley fanfic#my writing
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hiii sierra! i hope you’re having a lovely day! i’d like to request a rosie x reader where the reader is a rockstar from the 80s, and she really loves making music. rosie is more familiar with the inventions from 1920s so she’s a little confused when her s/o comes to her saying that she wrote a song for her on her electric guitar. maybe the reader explains to her what exactly it is and it’s just a really cute scenario with rosie being curious about what her s/o likes! thank you in advance if you decide to use this!
- 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐠 ❦
WOAHA I LOVE YOUR STUFF SM. I LOVE THIS AND HELLO I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A LOVELY DAY AS WELL :D
(P.S. : I only play an acoustic guitar at the moment and I don't play an electric guitar so I apologize if the way I wrote for it isn't correct!)
—
You sat in your and Rosie's shared room as you used your guitar pick to play a song you recently wrote for your partner. You moved your fingers rather fast as you practiced the song.
When playing the song, you carefully used your fingers and moved the strings up or down when necessary. The sound of the electric guitar resonating throughout the room as you finished up the song.
You were very happy with the way the song turned out. You couldn't wait to tell Rosie about it!
You smiled as you carefully, set the electric guitar on the ground. You put the guitar pick down next to it as you got up and hummed a tune. You almost forgot to unplug the electric guitar.
You and Rosie had a little apartment next to her shop. You were genuinely surprised she didn't just have it over her shop, you thought it would've made things easier.
Rosie told you that it was better this way because anyone could basically go waltzing up and into the home. You then understood why she didn't have the apartment over the shop.
You locked the door as you left the home and headed out to her shop. It was just a couple minutes away as you walked along the sidewalk.
You hummed the song you made for Rosie as you entered her shop. You saw Rosie talking to a client as the client nodded and walked away to a different area of the shop. As you walked in, the bell above the door alerted Rosie of your presence as she quickly locked eyes with you.
"(Y/n)? (Y/n)!" Your partner called for you with a huge smile spread across her face. "I missed you so much!" She rushed over to you as she embraced you into a hug, squeezing you tight.
"I missed you too Rosie!" You hugged her back as she pressed kisses against the top of your head and forehead.
"Oh, what're you doing here? I thought you were busy! Not that I mind the surprise though." She smiled as she let go of the embrace.
"I came to visit you!" You smiled. "I wrote a song for you on my electric guitar!"
Rosie tilted her head with a confused look on her face. "Electric guitar..?" She questioned as you quickly realized she most likely didn't realize what you meant. You forgot she was from the 1920s while you were from the 80s. Very big time difference for instruments. You thought to yourself.
"Right! An electric guitar is an instrument. It's kinda like a regular guitar but uh.. dang, how do I explain it..? Oh!"
You quickly explained the difference between an electric guitar and a regular guitar. Rosie would nod here and there while you explained the difference.
"That's rather charming! I can't wait to hear it, even if I am a little confused on the matter." She chuckled.
"Hopefully it'll make more sense once you actually see the instrument."
"I'm sure it will, darling." She reassured you as you smiled.
"I hope you like the song! I worked really hard on it. But, if you don't like it that's okay too."
"I'll love it my dear! I'm sure I will." She smiled.
"What time are you gonna close up shop today?" You asked as Rosie hummed while thinking it over.
Rosie didn't usually stick to a schedule for opening and closing her shop. It entirely depends on her mood.
"Maybe in an hour or two. Can't leave my clients without relationship advice!" She nudged you with her elbow as you giggled.
"Do you need help with anything while I'm here?" You asked.
"Hmm.. no, I don't think so. But! You can tell me all about this electric guitar of yours and the things you play." She smiled as she leaned down and kissed your cheek.
"Okay!" You eagerly replied as the two of you then sat at a table.
—
This is my first time writing for Rosie so I apologize if she seems out of character! I might make a part two bc this was sm fun to write.
Word count: 659?
#rosie x reader#hazbin rosie#hazbin hotel rosie#rosie x reader hazbin#Hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader
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One More Favor
Pairing: Titans!Dick Grayson x fem!reader (most of this fic takes place in/around Titans 1x2)
Summary: When Dick takes Rachel out of Detroit, he needs help, but he'll have to call in a few favors first.
Word Count: 5.0k+ words
Warnings: POV changes (that hopefully make sense), fluff, a little bit of angst, descriptions of injuries/self-harm (reader cuts her arm open to remove a tracker), several descriptive fight scenes, guns?, spoiler for Titans.
A/N: This is my first Dick Grayson fic, and I actually wrote it several months ago and just got around the editing it. Dick may be OOC, but I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think!
Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)
Gotham City - 4 Years Ago
The heavy door creaks as it is pulled open, warm air blowing out into the cold rain. You step inside, dropping your umbrella in the overflowing bin and wiping your shoes on the mat. Shivering slightly, you run your hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm up.
“Hi, Alfred,” you greet as you look over at him, your smile dropping at the solemn look on his face. “What happened?”
“Master Grayson left last night. He left you this,” Alfred answers as he hands you an envelope, your name written in Dick’s handwriting across the front.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” you ask, tears welling in your eyes.
“I’m afraid not. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you, Alfred. I’m going to go home,” you say as you pull the door open and step out, waiting for the door to close behind you. You take a deep breath and start running, not even thinking about the umbrella you left. As your tears mix with the rain on your skin, your heart feels about as warm as the Gotham City air.
Fremont, Ohio - Present Day
“Where are you taking me?” Rachel asks, spinning one of her rings on her finger as she looks out the window.
“To see an old friend. She can help us,” Dick answers, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.
An hour later, Dick checks his phone while he waits in the car as Rachel goes into a truck stop. He tracks her through the window as he dials a number he hasn’t called in years. It rings several times, and he thinks he won’t get an answer.
“Hello?” A voice asks as the line connects.
“Hi, Alfred, it’s me.”
“It’s been a long time, Master Grayson.”
“I know. This is a one-time thing; I need a favor.”
Omar, Ohio – Present Day
You enter the diner, sighing as you fall into a booth. Looking up at the television mounted in the corner, you see a story about yet another murder in Detroit. It’s almost as bad as Gotham City these days.
“How’s my favorite customer today?” Dan asks as he walks to the booth, his apron still on.
“I’ll bet you say that to all of your customers,” you counter with a smile, your hood still pulled over your head.
“I most certainly do not. What can I get you today?”
“Just some tea, please.”
“You need to eat.”
“Will you let me pay?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“I’m not letting you give me free food every day, Dan. Just tea.”
“Fine,” Dan sighs, returning to the kitchen and passing your order to a waitress.
The bell above the door chimes as it opens, a few sets of footsteps echoing as the door closes. You pull your hood up further, turning to face the back corner. Kelsey, Dan’s only waitress at this hour, drops off the mug of tea and a book, smiling at you as she walks away. She’s been lending you books since you first visited two months ago. You slide it closer, shaking your head as you read the summary: a vigilante who gets a new partner. Sounds familiar.
Benton, Pennsylvania – 3 ½ Years Ago
You take a deep breath before you dig the knife into your arm, making a shallow slice from the middle of your forearm up to your elbow. After you drop the knife into the hotel bathroom sink, you grab a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit and dig around, gritting your teeth as you ignore the pain. When you finally see a glint of silver, you grab it and pull. The tracker makes a ‘clink’ sound as it falls into the sink and goes down the drain. You sigh as you pick up the pre-threaded needle and start on the stitches. Good luck finding me now, Bruce.
Norwalk, Ohio – Earlier Today
“If the police are looking for me, is it smart to be on an interstate?” Rachel asks.
Dick sighs, knowing she is right. He pulls off at the next exit, getting on a small Ohio state route and heading south. They drive for about thirty minutes before coming to a small diner, claiming to have the state’s best chicken and waffles. Dick is ready for a break, so he doesn’t fight Rachel when she asks him to stop. They walk into the diner, and Dick looks around, planning escape routes and scanning for trouble. The waitress and the cook both say hello as Dick and Rachel sit by the window, the kitchen and the door visible. Dick looks at the only other customer, a girl in an oversized sweatshirt leaning over a book and nursing a mug of something.
“I’m Kelsey. What can I get you, folks?” Kelsey smiles as she approaches their table.
“Chicken and waffles, please,” Rachel orders.
“Coming up, and for you, sir?”
“Just coffee,” Dick answers, smiling.
Dick watches as the cook takes the order from Kelsey before nodding toward the girl in the booth. Kelsey walks over and starts talking to her, but Dick can’t tell if it is a friendly conversation or a ‘you need to leave’ conversation. Kelsey’s shoulders drop as she turns around and walks back to the kitchen pass-through, shaking her head as she speaks to the cook. A plate and a mug slide onto the counter, and Kelsey carries them over to Dick and Rachel, telling them to let her know if they need anything.
“What are you looking at?” Rachel asks.
“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on over there,” Dick answers, gesturing across the restaurant with his chin.
Rachel looks over and cocks her head slightly, “Kelsey’s happy but a little worried, the other one is really hard to read.”
Dick nods, sipping his coffee as he looks up at the television screen. His heart drops as Rachel’s picture appears on the screen, but it is gone before he can say anything. Dick looks toward the kitchen, but no one is there. Turning his head, he sees the cook talking to the other customer, sitting at the booth with her. Kelsey and the cook stand, and the cook returns to the kitchen as Kelsey walks toward their table.
“How is everything?” Kelsey asks.
“Great. Those were definitely the best in the state,” Rachel answers.
“Need anything else?”
“Just the check,” Dick answers, reaching for his wallet.
“It’s been covered,” Kelsey assures before clearing the table.
“By who?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing as Kelsey smiles.
The girl in the booth looks up suddenly, leaning to look out the window. She stands and moves toward Kelsey, telling her something before walking out the back door, the book she had been reading abandoned at the booth. Kelsey whispers something to Dan before turning quickly to walk back to Dick and Rachel.
“Someone is here for her,” Kelsey says to Dick, gesturing toward Rachel, “there’s a room through the kitchen with a back door.”
Dick and Rachel stand quickly, following her through the kitchen. They all freeze at the sound of gunshots, then begin moving again.
“Why are you helping us?” Dick asks.
“Favor for a friend,” Kelsey answers as she opens the back door. “Be careful.”
Dick nods as he ushers Rachel to stand on one side of him, gripping his gun in his other hand as they slowly round the building. The girl in the sweatshirt, who Dick really needs a new name for, is standing in the parking lot, a pipe falling from her hand and three unconscious men sprawled on the ground around her. She looks up before dropping her head, putting her hands in her pocket, and walking away. Dick hears one of the men groan and decides to leave before they come to. Rachel keeps asking him if he knows the girl, and the only answer he can supply is, “I don’t think so.” Maybe he should make it his new catchphrase.
Gotham City – 4 Years Ago
You enter your apartment and grab your backpack, dumping its contents out on the floor before you run around and grab what you consider “essentials”: an extra pair of shoes, a change of clothes, cash, a fake ID, a sweatshirt, a blanket, and the letter from Dick. You slide the letter into the protected laptop pocket of my backpack, promising yourself you will read it someday, but not right now. You put on your best pair of sneakers, comfortable and warm clothes, and a jacket with a hood before walking to the ATM, emptying your account, and ditching your card before boarding a bus to Princeton. As you watch Gotham City fade behind the bus, you cry because you lost a part of yourself, and you know it would hurt too much to see reminders of him. So, you leave.
Glen Easton, West Virginia – 2 Years Ago
You check into the small motel with cash and a fake ID, grateful you can sleep in a real bed for once. You find your room and collapse against the small mattress, setting your backpack beside the bed. You open it and pull out a change of clothes before showering. The letter from Dick is still in the computer pocket, unopened. When you think you are finally ready to open it, you get scared about what is inside it and change your mind.
You retrieve the sweatshirt from the bottom of the backpack and put it on. Then you order a pizza and turn on the TV. The sweatshirt is the only thing that provides you comfort after leaving Gotham City. You left everything that tied you to that life, except the sweatshirt, and nights like this make you wish you had realized Dick was going to leave and chased him.
Omar, Ohio – Present Day
“Why are we driving around in circles? I thought you were taking me somewhere?” Rachel asks.
“I’m looking for the girl that helped us,” Dick mumbles as he looks across the street.
“Oh,” Rachel says with a smile.
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve felt different since you saw her in the diner.”
“She just reminded me of someone I used to know.”
“Someone you knew. Seems like a lot more emotion than simple acquaintances.”
“Fine, we were best friends. We did- some stuff together and we were super close,” Dick said, failing to find a way to explain their vigilante activities.
“You did stuff together?” Rachel repeats incredulously.
“Not like that,” Dick huffs. “We just- she was my best friend, and I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Why?”
“I left.”
“You left her?”
“I didn’t leave her; I left the life I had then.”
“And by extension, her,” Rachel scoffs. “Why haven’t you called her?”
“I tried, once. Her number had been disconnected and I didn’t know her new one. Or if she even wanted to talk to me.”
“Surely you know someone who would’ve stayed in contact with her. Call them.”
Dick sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He does know someone.
“Right now,” Rachel adds, “I can feel your sadness and it’s bumming me out.”
Dick pulls over, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing the number. “It’s me again. I need one more favor,” he says when the line connects.
“Of course, Master Grayson,” Alfred agrees.
“I’m looking for,” he glances at Rachel, who is listening intently, before finishing, “her. I was wondering if you had a new number for her. Or know where she is?”
“Master Grayson,” Alfred says sadly, “we haven’t seen her in four years.”
“Four years?” Dick asks, eyes widening.
“Yes, sir. She left right after you did.”
“Did you give her the letter?”
“I did. She ran out of the manor, literally, after I gave it to her. We have not heard from her since.”
“Any idea where she went?”
“Last we knew she was in Benton, Pennsylvania. But that was nearly three and a half years ago. I’m sorry, Master Grayson.”
“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick says before hanging up.
“Sorry,” Rachel says quietly, “I shouldn’t have made you call.”
“Not your fault,” Dick assures her before pulling out. He slams on his brakes and backs up, turning into an alley and parking.
“What?” Rachel yells, gripping her seat.
“I think she’ll go back to the diner, they seemed to know her. Enough to give us free food on her behalf.”
“That’s what you think happened?” Rachel asks sarcastically.
“You’re the one that read their emotions.”
Rachel sighs before agreeing, “You’re right. She’ll go back.”
They find a small motel and get a room for the night, leaving their stuff in the room before returning to the diner. Entering, Dick and Rachel look around but only see the cook and a different waitress.
“Welcome back,” the cook, who introduces himself as Dan, greets.
“Hi, Dan. We’re looking for the girl who was in here this morning. She was wearing a grey sweatshirt, reading a book, and left quickly out the back door,” Dick explains.
“Yeah, I know her. Why are you looking for her?”
“She helped you. That’s why you’re so nice to her, if not a little protective, isn’t it?” Rachel asks.
Dan’s brow furrows as he answers, “Yes, she helped me.”
“We’re not trying to hurt her or get her in trouble or anything. She helped us this morning and we’d like to repay the favor,” Dick promises. “Could you at least give us her name?”
“I don’t know her name,” Dan answers. “But she’ll probably come back here in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Dick and Rachel say together.
The following morning, Dick checks out of the motel and drives to the diner. They both look to the booth where she sat yesterday as they walk in, frowning when they see no one there. Kelsey smiles as she greets them and takes their order, exactly as they had yesterday. Dick spins his mug around as he watches the television, trying to keep himself from staring at the door.
“Dick,” Rachel whispers a few minutes later. She gestures toward the counter, where the girl is now sitting, wearing the same sweatshirt as yesterday.
Before Dick can do anything, Dan’s voice fills the diner. “All three of you need to get somewhere safe. Everyone in town is talking about some secret service agents asking about you folks.”
“All of us?” The girl in the sweatshirt asks.
“You know how these people feel about cops, but they’ll come in here eventually and you don’t need to be here,” Dan says.
“11 North Country Road 29,” the girl in the sweatshirt calls as she stands, “you got that?”
“Yeah, we got it,” Rachel answers, practically dragging Dick to the front door.
Dick gets in the car and speeds toward the address, hoping that the girl in the sweatshirt will meet them there. And give them her name. He parks between the house and a row of trees, where the car is hidden from the road. The back door is unlocked, and Dick sweeps the house before ushering Rachel in. Several minutes later, the back door opens again, and the girl in the sweatshirt walks in, coming face-to-muzzle with Dick’s gun. Her hands are raised as he lowers the gun.
“Sorry,” Dick apologizes as he holsters it.
“Not a problem. I’d give it a few hours before leaving,” the girl says, moving past them.
“Thank you. For yesterday and right now,” Rachel says.
“Least I could do. I’ll be in the back room if you need anything.”
Rachel waits until she is out of earshot to turn toward Dick and ask, “She really reminds you of this girl doesn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Dick sighs. “That obvious?”
“Your shame is practically choking me. Why did you hurt her?"
“I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s not an excuse, Dick.”
Rachel walks toward the back room, determined to find a way to help Dick get over his hurt.
Omar, Ohio – 2 Months Ago
“Take your hands off the girl,” you demand as you enter the dark room.
Three men turn toward you, one raising a gun as the others take a step closer. You see a girl tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth, blood everywhere, and fear in her eyes.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with, sweetheart,” the man with the gun growls.
“Right back at ya,” you say, taking a threatening step toward him.
The two other men charge toward you. You catch one of their fists as they throw it toward you, twisting him in front of you to encounter the brunt of the other man’s hit as he throws it. Their shared momentum knocks them both to the floor. You slide across the floor, elbowing the third man’s knee as you grab his hand, flipping his wrist so the gun falls to the floor. You pick it up and level it at his temple.
“One more time: let the girl go,” you demand slowly.
One of the men on the floor throws a knife, which spins in the air and nicks your arm. You glance toward him before swinging the gun and taking three shots, taking out one knee on every man. As they groan in pain and roll on the floor, you untie the girl and ask her where to go. She directs me to her father’s diner.
“I’m looking for Dan,” you say as you carry her through the back door.
Dan comes running, grabbing his first aid kit as he sits beside her. “Your arm needs attention?” he asks as he points to your scarred forearm and the small bloody patch from the knife.
“No, I’m all good. Thank you.” You begin to stand, but he stops you, refusing to let you leave until you eat something.
“You’ll never pay here. Come back anytime,” Dan says when you leave an hour later.
Omar, Ohio – Present Day
“Sorry about him,” Rachel says as she walks into the back room.
“It’s completely fine.” The girl in the sweatshirt laughs softly, her hand playing with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rachel says as she sits in a chair across from her.
“How long have they been looking for you?”
“About a week. Since they killed my mom.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel shrugs. “Just so you know, the guy I’m with, Dick, he’s a cop. And he’s not usually this weird.”
She laughs again, looking up long enough that Rachel can see her face.
“You remind him of someone he used to know.”
She shakes her head before changing the subject. “You’re Rachel, right? I’m assuming you can do something, otherwise, they wouldn’t be looking for you.”
“I can feel what other people are feeling. There’s something inside of me, but I don’t know what it is.”
“Rachel, you can learn to control it. It’s obvious you’re a good person.”
“I tried to read your emotions at the diner yesterday,” Rachel admits, “but you have a lot, and they were overlapping.”
“A lot has happened to me in the last few years. I don’t even know what I’m feeling all the time.”
“They’re clearer now. You’re sad and regretful,” Rachel says quietly.
“I don’t care that you’re looking, Rach. The more you use your powers, the better you’ll get at them. And you’re dead on.”
“Sometimes, when I touch people I can see some of their memories,” Rachel explains.
The girl in the sweatshirt smiles. “You don’t even know my name.”
“What’s your name?”
She extends her hand and answers, “Find out.”
Gotham City is cold in winter, and the freezing rain is not helping the temperature issue. Robin is fighting behind me, our backs touching as we take down the last of the numerous bad guys.
“Nice work,” Robin says as he smiles at me. “But you’re cold, stop touching me.”
“Oh? I am cold? Your Kevlar is practically frozen,” I respond sarcastically.
He pulls me into his side, pressing the button on his belt to turn on his cape heater.
The setting changes: a large door opens, and an umbrella is placed in a bin, destined to be forgotten.
“-left last night. He left you this.”
An envelope trades hands, and a name is written on it. The door is opened and closed, then running in the rain gives way to stressed packing and boarding a bus. The same envelope is unopened years later, a new scar appears on a forearm, the same backpack is stashed in a motel, and a sweatshirt is the most prized possession.
Omar, Ohio – Present Day
“It was you,” Rachel says, her eyes wide as her hand slips from yours.
“What was?” you ask.
“You’re the girl Dick left, the one he’s feeling so guilty and sad about.”
“He what?”
“He saw you in the diner and was reminded of a girl he used to know. He said they ‘did stuff together.’ You don’t look like that girl; you are that girl.”
“What did you see?” you ask, confused about how exactly her powers work.
“I see some of the most important things in your life. I saw you fighting with Robin and then learning that someone left. You’ve been on the run since then, haven’t you? And the sweatshirt means something.”
“What do you know about Robin?”
“I know who he is. I know what he went through. I think you two should talk.”
A noise outside causes you to stand suddenly. “Stay here.”
You walk out, seeing Dick holding his gun as he moves toward a window. You move to the other side of the room, by another door, and stand against the wall as the door is kicked open. A hand holding a gun comes inside; you grab the wrist and slam it down against your knee. The gun hits the floor and slides away. The man raises both hands to your shoulders, pushing you backward and into the wall. You form a fist and slam it up into his chin, his head snapping back as his grip on you loosens. While you fight him, Dick takes on a second man who enters the house.
Dick moves behind the door, grabbing the man’s shirt collar and flipping him to the floor. He attempts to get information from him but comes up empty. Slamming his fist to his nose repeatedly, Dick doesn’t stop until the man loses consciousness. He looks over and sees the girl in the sweatshirt standing from the floor, wiping blood from her nose.
“That was impressive. You two could be partners,” Rachel says as she walks in, smirking as she looks over at you.
Dick opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, telling them, “You two should get out of here while you still can.”
“I’m not leaving,” Rachel says, crossing her arms. “Not until you two talk.”
“About what?” Dick asks.
“Rachel,” you warn.
“She’s right. We do need to get going.”
“Show him.”
“Either we need to leave, or I need more information,” Dick sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
A phone rings in the back room, and you walk away to answer it, releasing a breath as you realize it was Kelsey.
“What was that about?” Dick whispers.
“You two have to talk before you never get a chance again,” Rachel says.
“Someone broke into your house and assaulted several officers,” you say as you return, “the police are calling a nationwide manhunt for you, Rachel.”
“I am not leaving without you,” she says, stepping toward you and grabbing your hand.
Her eyes fall to the sleeve before she glances up at you and pushes the sleeve up. You push it back down quickly and look away from her.
“I can’t go with you,” you say sadly, shaking your head.
“You can if you want to,” Dick offers, “you’ve been a huge help.”
You look toward Rachel, who only nods as she squeezes your hand.
“Just tell him,” Rachel whispers.
You take a deep breath before you look up and pull your hood down. “Hi, Dickie.”
Dick’s eyes widen as he takes a hesitant step forward.
“Rachel said I remind you of someone,” you say. “I thought-“
Dick cuts you off by rushing forward and hugging you tightly. You return the hug, gripping him tightly and burying your face in his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I left,” Dick whispers.
“It’s okay.”
“Tell him everything else,” Rachel encourages from beside you.
You squeeze Dick one more time before pulling back and saying, “I left Gotham City after you did. Alfred gave me the letter and I just ran. I’ve been in a bunch of small cities since then, but nowhere as long as here. I saved Dan’s daughter from some kidnappers and just stayed for some reason.”
“Alfred said he didn’t know where you went after Benton,” Dick says.
“I cut my tracker out in Benton,” you explain, pulling your sleeve up and exposing the scar.
He reaches forward and gently runs his fingers up the scar. “Tracker?”
“Right. Bruce told me he sedated you when he gave you yours, something about you being too excited about being in the bat cave.”
“He put a tracker in me?”
“He put trackers in all of us.”
The phone rings twice before silencing. “That’s our cue to leave,” you say.
Columbus, Ohio – 1 Week Later
“How’s your arm?” you ask as you enter the room.
“Healing quickly,” Dick answers, smiling as he looks up at you from the hotel bed.
“Looks good,” you say, gently holding his arm, “yours probably won’t scar.”
“Pizza’s here,” Rachel calls as someone knocks on the door.
Dick answers the door and gets the pizza while you and Rachel get drinks from the mini-fridge. You all sit on the small couch as you eat, and you can’t help but think of old times. The following morning, you, Dick, and Rachel load into Dick’s car and drive toward Covington.
“Are you going to tell him?” Rachel asks as we wait in the car while Dick goes into a police station.
“Tell him what?’
“That you still love him.”
“I-“
“I can feel it. I could feel it when he was Robin and when you found out he left, in the safe house, and right now.”
“I don’t know, Rach.”
Dick sighs as he gets back in the car. “I got the description of the woman who broke into the crime scene.”
“Where to now?” you ask.
“Arcade. 5 miles north,” Rachel answers.
You laugh lightly as you shrug at Dick.
“An hour,” Dick says as he puts the car in gear.
“And a half,” you and Rachel correct together.
You give her some cash before you and Dick find a seat where you can see the entire arcade.
“You’re good with her,” you say as you steal a fry from his plate.
He playfully swats your hand away before moving his plate closer. “So are you,” he agrees.
You watch Rachel for a moment before looking down at your sweatshirt sleeve.
“Are you okay?” Dick asks, his hand landing on your arm.
“Yeah,” you say with a nod, still looking down. “This sweatshirt is the only connection I’ve had to you for the last four years.”
“What?”
You extend your arm toward him, watching his face as he grabs your wrist and looks at the sleeve, his initials and a small Robin messily embroidered on it.
“You kept it?” he asks.
“Of course, I did.”
“Mine’s in the trunk of my car,” he admits, smiling as he looks back up at you.
“Really?”
“You think that I’d leave it after all the hard work we put into them? I couldn’t leave it behind; it felt like leaving you behind. I tried to call you.”
“I left my phone; didn’t want Bruce to come after me.”
“Why does Rachel keep telling you to talk to me?”
You laugh before answering, “There’s something I haven’t told you and she wants me to.”
“What?”
“That I’m in love with you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.
Dick is silent as he stares at you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said any-“
Dick pulls your wrist gently, slamming his lips to yours. His other hand raises and wraps around the base of your neck, pulling you closer. You move your hands to his waist, pulling yourself closer to him as you kiss him like he’s your source of life.
“I take it you told him,” Rachel says, suddenly standing on the other side of the table.
Dick pulls back, smiling at you before saying, “Shut up, Rachel.”
“I’m out of money.”
Dick pulls a fifty from his wallet, handing it to her and smiling in gratitude as she walks away. She nods and returns the smile.
“I love you,” Dick says.
“I love you,” you respond, stealing another one of his fries.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I wanted to find you but had no idea where to look.”
“Rachel was right. We could be partners. Again.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Grayson,” you smile before kissing him again.
“You didn’t read the letter did you?”
“I couldn’t,” you admit, shaking your head, “hurt too much. Why?”
“I wrote it to tell you I loved you. I wanted to take you with me but was scared.”
“I guess I should read it then, because I love you, too, Dickie.”
You and Dick watch as Rachel walks toward you, a tall woman with bright Magenta hair on one side and a green-haired boy on her other side.
When they reach the table, Rachel says, “This is Kory and Gar. They have some interesting stories.”
“This feels familiar,” you mutter to Dick as you stand up.
“I’m gonna need a bigger car,” Dick says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.
#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson fluff#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson fic#titans!dick grayson#dc titans#fem!reader
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drabble #1 - coffee can wait
elijah mikaelson x reader
summary: cockwarming with elijah
tags: sleepiness, cockwarming, morning sex, vaginal sex
word count: 1,051
a/n: wrote this drunk, edited it sober. i’ve had writer’s block all weekend, so hopefully writing this can crack that. plus, i was in desperate need of something smutty with elijah ;)
“Are you still busy?” You poke your head into your lover’s study. It’s nearly midnight, and the man has been dutifully going over papers since after dinner.
“Unfortunately, yes. Is there something you need, baby?”
“Just you. I can’t sleep without you.”
Elijah sighs wistfully, “come here.” He pats his lap for you to sit.
You hurry over to him, nightgown catching a bit of air. When you reach his side, he helps position you over his lap, then holds onto your waist. You adjust your hips slightly, getting comfortable.
“Don’t move too much, baby.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Mind if I go back to reading? I should finish in the next hour or two.”
“Okay.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, head on his shoulders, and curl into him. In only a couple of minutes, your eyes are fluttering with sleepiness. But despite your exhaustion, part of you refuses to sleep. Underneath you, whether he realizes it or not, Elijah’s growing hard. He’s rubbing up on your legs, making your already needy state much worse.
“‘Lijah?” You say after a little.
“Yes?”
“Are you almost done?”
“Not quite.”
“Can you… can you take a break?”
“I really shouldn’t, baby.”
“But you’re… you’re,” the words leave you. Unable to voice them, you tell him by feeling a hand on his cock.
He groans in pleasure, then grimaces. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, and neglected to notice… that.”
“I can help,” you mumble sleepily.
“No, baby, you don’t have to.”
“Wanna.”
“Aren’t you too tired?”
You sigh in response, knowing he’s right.
“Let’s try this, okay?” He moves your body gently just enough that he can pull himself out, hissing when the cool air of the room hits him. “Hold on, just for a second.” You nod, and he wets two fingers in his mouth before putting them on your clit. He rubs in a couple circles before slipping his fingers inside you, testing your wetness. When he decides you’re ready, he gestures for you to get on top.
As soon as you do, he fills you completely. If you could see it, your stomach would probably have a bulge from how big he is, and the thought just makes you wetter. You both let out a moan at the feeling, causing him to turn your head to face him for a kiss.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
Perfectly fit, you lean back into his shoulder. Before you know it, you’re out like a light.
Half an hour later, Elijah’s finally done with his reading. He’s about to praise you for your patience, but then notices you’re fast asleep. The sight brings a smile to his face.
As quietly as he can, he picks you up and carries you to the bed. Without undressing from his suit, he lies down beside you. Even if he wasn’t too tired to change, changing into different clothes would require pulling out from you, and he’s too satiated for that right now. So, after one more look at your beautiful face, he lets his eyes flutter shut.
◇◇◇◇
You wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of fresh coffee filling your senses. It’s a lovely way to start a morning, and reminds you so much of why you love living with the Mikaelsons. But then you try to sit up, and realize someone has a tight grip on your body, holding you in place. You take a relaxed breath. Elijah. Smiling, but wanting that coffee, you try to wiggle out of his grip.
That’s when you realize… the events of last night: not being able to sleep; checking up on your boyfriend… you wiggle one more time… he’s still inside of you, too.
Almost instantly, you feel your body getting wet again. He’s still as hard as he was yesterday, and is still in his suit, too.
“‘Lijah,” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “Hey.”
Slowly, his eyes blink open. “Good morning, baby.”
“Good morning,” you kiss his nose this time. “Did you sleep well?”
“Quite well, did you?”
“Mhm. Woke up even better.”
“Is that so?”
You answer by moving your hips against his cock, eliciting a groan from his throat.
“There’s coffee downstairs,” you then say.
He glares at you, a smirk teasing his lips. “Coffee can wait.” Without any further warning, he moves fast to climb on top of you, thrusting even deeper into you. He buries his face in your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, and making you moan from the pleasure.
“I-’Lijah,” you whine.
“Are you okay with this?” He asks suddenly.
“Perfectly.”
“Then let me love you, since I didn’t get to last night.”
You don’t have time to answer before he turns you into a moaning mess. One hand holds your hips, while the other makes circles on your clit. He thrusts into you at a comfortable pace, still kissing all over your face and neck. You bury your hands in his hair, tugging at the ends, pulling him closer to your body.
It isn’t long before you feel yourself getting close. You try to contain your moans, knowing his whole family is probably awake downstairs, but Elijah isn’t having it. He praises you after every loud cry, and you, desperate to please him, give in quickly.
Soon, sweat beads on his forehead, and his thrusts get more sloppy. He’s panting in your ear, sending shock waves throughout your body, bringing you closer.
“‘Lijah?”
“Yes?”
“I’m gonna c-” You’re cut off by your own pleasure, unable to finish the sentence. “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, ffffff-” He kisses you quiet, tongue slipping inside your mouth. Seconds later, he follows, cumming deep inside you, groaning as he does. A vibration ripples through you and you shiver. “Fuck, ‘Lijah. I love you.”
As soon as he comes down from his high, he kisses you gently. “I love you, too, baby.”
◇◇◇◇
It isn’t for another hour that you get down to the coffee. After peeling yourselves out of bed, you take a quick shower together. Things get dirty again before you get clean, but eventually you make it down to the kitchen. Of course, all three siblings are there, sipping slowly, with judging looks.
“Busy night, huh?”
You mess up the boy’s hair playfully as you walk past him. “Shut up, Kol.”
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Im crazy for this blog! Do you mind writing for yandere Baizhu or some hcs? Maybe a modern au?
Baizhu's more just a clinician than a pharmacist here because I'm obsessed with yandere doctors. It's been a while since I wrote for him, I'm not very confident in this but I hope it's still good ^^
Yandere!Baizhu x Reader
TW: Heavily implied noncon somnophilia, drugging, doctor/patient, gaslighting
You had been seeing and hearing things. It started with little noises outside of your window at night, rustling and shuffling. It scared you, but not enough to do anything about it. Next thing you knew, you swore you were seeing white flashes through your window at odd hours of the night. You'd look out the window, and there'd be not a thing in sight except for the stillness of the night.
It got worse.
Items of your possession began to go missing, mostly clothing, oftentimes dirty. You told yourself it was probably due to your own absent-mindedness, but you knew deep down that something was wrong.
The thing that set you off was when you'd wake up sore and hurting. There'd be scratch marks on your arms and back, and bruises you swore were hickeys on your shoulders and neck. They were in places you couldn't have reached yourself. Your mind had jumped to the worst case scenario, and you were terrified.
Yet your trusted doctor brushed it all off, saying you were getting hallucinations and stressing yourself out far too much. He claimed what you were so sure were hickeys, were actually just bruises. He said you were likely a sleep walker due to your increased stress, hence it made sense that you'd unintentionally hurt yourself while asleep. You'd bought into his reasoning, because he'd always been so trustworthy and reliable.
He gave you medication to help you, but you couldn't help but feel like what he prescribed made it worse. You found yourself more groggy than usual, and often having nightmares. You felt physically sick most days.
But Doctor Baizhu was so trustworthy, you felt like it was the right choice.
You noticed how his fingers would linger longer than they should whenever he took your pulse. You noticed how his eyes would dilate when staring at you for just a bit too long. You noticed how his touch felt wrong, like there was something else behind it. But you were just being paranoid, just as Baizhu said.
"Feeling sick again?" Baizhu's cold hand pressed against your forehead. The touch sent a shiver coursing through your body, the sharp contrast in temperature setting your nerves on edge.
"Yeah," you managed. Your voice was barely a whisper.
"That's unfortunate," Baizhu sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times in thought. "Well, if you continue taking this medicine, you should start feeling better soon. Although I'm starting to worry the side-effects are a pain. I have something else to try, so if you would just give me a moment..."
Baizhu walked off to the other end of the room, leaving you alone. You swallowed hard, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling. Your throat was always dry lately, and you found yourself struggling to swallow, let alone eat. You wished you could sleep, but the nightmares always left you a groggy mess. You could never remember them, only that they were terrifying.
"Ah, here we are," Baizhu smiled, snapping you from your thoughts. He had a bottle of pills, shaking out one singular white one. "It'll dissolve in your mouth. It's to help ease your nausea. I know you haven't been keeping anything down well lately. Hopefully this should help."
You extended a hand, to which he placed it in your palm. Were doctors even allowed to give out pills directly? You weren't sure, but shrugged it off. You popped it into your mouth, and Baizhu was right. It quickly dissolved, and you were surprised that it didn't have a funny taste. You were expecting something bitter or awful, but there was nothing.
"It'll take some time to kick in," Baizhu assured you. "I'd like it if you stayed here until it does. It might make you a little dizzy."
"Sure," you nodded. You had no reason to distrust Baizhu, despite every fibre of your being telling you something was wrong.
The medicine kicked in quickly. Within ten minutes, you were feeling a bit weird, like you were floating. Your head was lighter. Baizhu noticed you swaying and pushed you gently onto the examination table.
"Dizzy?" he asked.
"Uh huh," you replied dumbly.
"Stay lying down," he instructed. Your vision was spinning and your head was empty, so empty you could hardly process the fact he was digging into your belongings and then leaving the room. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but couldn't find the energy. Instead, you let yourself lay there, staring at the ceiling as it spun round and round.
Baizhu came back, rolling in a wheelchair. He lifted you up with a quiet groan, and set you gently into the seat, draping a blanket over you. It was scratchy and thin.
"We're going for a walk," Baizhu said. He wheeled you out, and as loopy as you were, a spike of hazy panic hit you when you saw him leading you to a car in the parking lot that wasn't yours. You tried to protest, but Baizhu cooed, petting your hair and whispering sweet nothings.
"Shhh, it'll be okay. Everything is fine. We're going home."
Baizhu opened the passenger side door, pushing the chair close. He lifted you out with a low grunt. You felt weightless in his arms, like a feather. He buckled you in, and his minty breath ghosted across your face.
"I love you," he murmured.
You passed out before his lips could even touch yours.
#answered ask#yandere#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#baizhu#yandere baizhu#baizhu genshin impact#genshin impact baizhu#baizhu x reader#baizhu x y/n#baizhu x you#genshin x reader
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hey! idk if you’re taking requests but this is kind of a suggestion bc i don’t have a plot or anything but you’re a good writer and i think you’d kill it with a single mom!reader x mean ceo/lawyer!nat i think the whole class difference and maternity would be nice to see nat learning how to navigate them.
-🎈
hi 🎈 anon!
thank you for the request / suggestion, wrote a shorter fic with this one but hopefully it lives up to expectations! sorry for the longer wait, i was away on holiday for a while and didn't have access to tumblr on my laptop.
hope you're doing well!
lena | n. romanoff
ceo! natasha romanoff x single mother! reader
word count: 3.2k
‘Where are you? Everyone else is here already.’
‘Did you get stuck in traffic? Even Bill’s wife, the third one, who’s coming from a flight from Washington’s arrived. Reply me.’
‘Are you ignoring me?’
By the third undelivered text, Natasha had had enough. She quietly excused herself from the group of investors she had been speaking to, set her drink down, and headed to the balcony to call you. There was anger, a sense of betrayal even, and if she dared herself feel it, a twinge of worry for you standing her up, as well.
But she swallowed all those thoughts down, as the phone began to ring. It was connected, and rang once, twice, before the dial tone went dead and her call abruptly ended. She stared back at the dark screen of her phone, confusion written on her features, and sighed frustratedly. This was an important fundraising gala. This was where the company was finally going to accomplish the funds needed to build the new headquarters outside of the United States, and this was where she had wanted to show you off to the world.
You were her arm candy, her prize, but tonight…tonight you were missing from her arms.
Natasha struggled to force herself to endure the rest of the night without you by her side. All she had wanted to do was to come find you, to make sure that you were okay to berate you for standing her up, but instead she had to sit through another round of ribbon cuttings, expensive, tasteless champagnes, and meaningless small talk with the ultra wealthy just to rub shoulders even more. It was torture, and nothing could quell the worry anger in the back of her mind.
So when the clock finally struck eleven and the festivities had relatively died down, she was the first to leave the venue; ordering her chauffeur to drive straight to your apartment. The trip was silent, and even the elderly man could sense the tension radiating from his boss’ shoulders at that moment.
Bursting through your doors exactly half an hour later, Natasha saw the abandoned party gown she had picked out for you laid across your stained couch, along with the new heels she had bought still in the designer box she had bought them from, and she knew you never even bothered to actually come for the gala.
She screamed for your name, knocking down the doors to each room in the tiny apartment, making a mess with each step, but she didn’t care at that point. She was livid, and you had betrayed her.
But right before she could knock down the door to the final room, the one painted baby pink and with an engraved sign reading Lena’s Room, it had clicked open and you walked out, staring at her face-to-face while shutting the door behind you.
Natasha was breathing heavily, her fists curled. She was confident she looked almost insane by then; a complete switch from the composed, sophisticated CEO she was just nearly an hour before. But you looked her up and down, and showed no signs of fear, however. You simply sighed, and nodded back towards the room.
“She’s got an unrelenting fever. Been at it since midday, the sitter told me. When I got home, her forehead’s sizzling to the touch. I just got her to bed, Natasha.”
“You didn’t come for the gala.”
“How could I?” It was your turn to fold your arms, walking past her to the living room. She followed. “Lena was so sick, Nat. I couldn’t just leave her alone for the night.”
It was then that things took a turn for the worse. What you said ticked something in Natasha, something she simply could not let go for the remainder of the night as the two of you began arguing.
“You humiliated me! In front of everyone!” Natasha had yelled, hands outstretched and veins appearing on her neck, “I was the only one without a date there, the only one!”
“What was I supposed to do?” You retorted, “My phone was dead, and forgive me if I managed to miss out on it once, because I was busy taking care of my sick child!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you could’ve texted me!”
“It still wouldn’t have changed things!”
Natasha had moved two steps from the kitchen counter to the sofa, where you were seated, still in your nurse scrubs and hair tied in a bun. You looked absolutely exhausted, and the tone in your voice was well over the point of wanting to go on with the argument. Natasha knew the bags under your eyes had not only come from the numerous shifts at the hospital, but also the responsibility of taking care of a toddler all alone as well.
But she had gone too far now. She couldn’t back down. “You stood me up! You stood me up when you could’ve sent her to a friend, or called the sitter back to take care of her for just a few hours more, couldn’t you? Or did you never want to come to the gala to support me anyway?”
She saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. “Natasha…”
“Fuck, I bet the kid’s not even sick. She probably just wanted attention, and you so kindly spoil her with everything, of course she can manipulate you for this too!”
But at that point, small sniffles could be heard from the corner of the room, and the both of you looked up at the same time. Your daughter had apparently climbed out of bed, still hugging her stuffed animal, and at the sight of her staring up at the two of you, tears flowing down her face, Natasha felt a surge of guilt wash over what she had just said. Though she knew Lena probably could not grasp all of the words she had been saying, to see you immediately stand and scoop her up in your arms to get her away from Natasha was hurtful enough.
“Mama fight? With Aunty Nat?” Had been her exact words, to which you pressed your hand against her forehead and shushed her quietly to coax her back to sleep.
“No, sweetheart. We’re fine, Mama and Aunty Nat are fine. Let’s go back to bed, okay? Your fever’s still high.”
But Lena peeked through your arms to see Natasha, then up to your face, and Natasha caught her rubbing something from your face too. “Why Mama cry?”
Oh. That had done it. Natasha knew she was fucked, and she had hurt both you and your daughter with the way she had stormed in tonight and began accusing the both of you things that were never true. All because she was too headstrong to listen to anyone’s reasons but her own, all because she was too insecure and possessive over you.
“Darling,” Natasha began, but you stopped her, hand begging her not to follow the both of you to Lena’s room.
“Please, Natasha, just leave,” you said through broken sobs, readjusting Lena to hide your face from Natasha. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning, but please…leave.”
The slam of the front door just seconds later was enough indication to show off the redhead’s frustration and anger, but you were not sure if it was directed at you, or herself.
–
Two weeks later Natasha still received an invite to a play your daughter was in, handed to her by her secretary in the middle of a lunch meeting. She secretly opened it in front of her partners, and the sense of relief and joy that spread through her had her instantly itching to call you on the phone.
“Thanks, baby, for the invitation,” she said later on, while you were on a break of your own. She could hear the roaring ambulance sirens in the background, and knew you were on a time limit. “And I’m really sorry, still, for that night.”
“It’s fine, Nat,” you reassured her, voice tired as usual. It broke Natasha’s heart to always see you working harder than anyone and receiving so little in return, but as you had always reminded her, even at the beginning of your relationship, that you were never looking for help or money from her, and that you refused to accept such as well. “Lena said she misses you as well. She wants you to be there.”
It was hard for Natasha to imagine a child could have such feelings for her. She had never grown up with the love and affection of someone so much younger, someone who looked up to her almost like an idol, and whenever Lena leaned in for kisses or ran up to her for hugs, Natasha knew you always caught her stiffening; an involuntary reflex she hoped you would forgive her for.
But it had been almost two years since you and Natasha had been going out, and even the billionaire knew that you were not going to wait forever for someone who was not going to love Lena as much as you did.
So she swallowed her fears, and replied, “That’s nice. Tell her…I miss her too.”
She could feel you smiling from the other end. “Will do. I love you, Nat.”
“I love you too.”
–
The night of the play, with the both of you sat huddled in the dimly lit school theatre and watching Lena dance around as a sunflower with a group of other little flowers and animals, Natasha watched as your eyes lit up each time the spotlight came on your daughter, and how you would excitedly hold her hand and point Lena out to her throughout the duration of the show. She also watched as Lena continuously looked out at the crowd for the both of you, and how her eyes, reflected in yours, lit up the same way yours did when she found the two of you too. The woman couldn’t help but give a small wave as well whenever Lena grinned at her.
“Mama! Aunty Nat!” Lena screamed at the end of the play, running over to the both of you as you picked her up and peppered kisses all over her face. The little girl basked in the love and laughter from her mother.
“You were amazing, sweetheart. The best there is,” you said to her, still holding her tight, as Natasha allowed herself to sneak a kiss to Lena’s cheek. “Mama is so proud of you.”
Then Lena turned to Natasha, and grinned at her. “And Aunty Nat too?”
Natasha caught your eyes, and smiled reassuringly. “Of course. Aunty Nat is more proud than your Mama, even!”
–
When you finally tucked her in that night, Lena’s eyes full of the world and the stars in the sky, you pressed a final kiss to her forehead, and muttered a I love you before leaving her room. Natasha was in the living room, watching the news on your old, jacked up television, bottle of expensive wine in hand.
“Anything good?” You settled beside her, her arms instinctively reaching out to wrap around you.
She shrugged. “It’s the news. How’s Lena?”
“Still buzzing from the night earlier, but who can blame her? You really went all out with the pizza and ice cream after the play, she’s the happiest she’s been in weeks. Especially since…”
Especially since the apartment had its electricity cut off for a full day earlier in the week, because you couldn't pay the bills on time. Natasha stiffened. “...You know, you should always tell me, if these kind of things happen again.”
“I can get by on my own, Nat. I don’t want your charity, remember?” You sighed, signalling the end of the conversation before it spiralled into another argument.
In an attempt to smooth over the tension, Natasha offered, “We should go on a vacation soon.”
But all you responded with was a mirthless chuckle. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Why?”
“Natasha, I can’t just go on a vacation,” you chimed, “I’ve got shifts at the hospital, bills to pay, and Lena’s far too young to travel any time soon.”
The woman in front of you furrowed her brows. “Who said Lena’s coming?”
You had to do a double take to ensure you heard her right. “Why wouldn’t Lena be coming?”
“I just thought, since she’s with her father on some weekends, we could let her stay there for a little longer. A week, two weeks, perhaps? Just some alone time, you know, you and me. Could help us get away from the stress and troubles of work for a while.”
Natasha felt you stiffen, before your touch was abruptly pulled away from her. “Natasha, where is all this coming from?!”
“Come on, you can’t tell me that you’re not stressed.”
“I am, but Lena is not the source of it!” You retorted, standing up. Natasha had gone into a protective pose too by then. “I can’t just leave her at her dad’s whenever it’s convenient. You and I know what kind of person he is!”
“But baby–”
“–I’m not leaving Lena and that’s final!” You half-screamed, not caring if the neighbours could hear, or if you were hurting Natasha’s feelings by then. “Nat, she is and will always be my top priority, and if you can’t handle that, if you can’t handle sharing a top spot in my heart with her…I can’t be with you.”
There was silence, lasting for a minute or two, as you breathed in heavy gulps of air, while Natasha sat, fiddling with the clasp of her watch, thinking of what to say, or do.
So you continued, “You can’t use money to figure your way out of this one, Nat. To make your problems…just disappear. Not with this.”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” Natasha looked at you then, eyes tearing up too.
Your heart squeezed in part longing, part regret, but you had to stand strong. You had to put your family first. “Yes. So please, I need you to make a decision, because I can’t keep going on like this. And it’s not fair for you to stay in this relationship if it's just for me, and not Lena, too.”
You caught the woman before you shaking her head, letting her tears fall onto her lap, refusing to wipe them away. But as soon as the moment of vulnerability appeared, it went away just as fast, as Natasha abruptly stood, brushing past you, made her way to the door and slammed it on her way out.
Lena did not need to hear your cries of anguish and betrayal that night, sobbed into the pillows you and Natasha so often shared the past two years, all gone by then.
–
Sat by the park bench the two of you used to frequent, Natasha allowed her tears to flow once more; an indication of her grief of the past two years, an indication of the life she had just thrown away. Perhaps it would also have been an indication of the loss of the best thing that could ever happen to her after all.
A child was playing with his mother at the swings nearby, looking no older than Lena was. Their laughter the only thing audible through the ringing in Natasha’s ears. She watched her pick him up, carry him around to the other playground equipment, and her smile and eyes reminded Natasha of you.
You, who always assured Natasha that she was doing right by Lena, that she was good at being a mother too. You, who patiently taught her how to prepare food for Lena, how to put on her socks and tie her braids that she so very much loved, even how to deal with the temper tantrums that stressed her out, but never you. You, who made Natasha believe she deserved to be happy as a mother, too.
Natasha thought of all the times you would come home after your shifts to not only take care of Lena, but also make time for her, too. How you would sacrifice your own time and energy to try to balance the two of them and their needs; and Natasha cringed. It should never have to be between them, she shouldn’t have had to make you choose. And she shouldn’t have been so selfish, should have made compromises, as you have, when being the girlfriend of a billionaire CEO with a schedule as jam packed as hers.
She wonders if she’s fucked it all up. She wonders if she’s too late. There was only one way to find out.
–
“Can we get ice cream, Mama?” Lena’s big, curious eyes always made your heart soft, and gave you a hard time denying her.
You brushed back a strand of her hair, and nodded. “Of course darling, anything for you.”
Though, as the both of you arrived at the usual ice cream shop that you, her, and Natasha frequented, you found yourself cursing as you checked the contents of your wallet, clearly forgetting that payday was still in a week. Lena was already eagerly eyeing the flavours, and you knew her usual order was a premium.
“Hey, Lena, sweetheart,” you called out to her, “Mama’s a little short on cash today. We’ll just have your ice-cream, yeah? I’m not hungry.”
Your daughter pouted, but in return, you gave her your most upbeat smile, and readjusted the straps on her backpack. “Just this once. And I’ll ask them to give you an extra big scoop, so you can eat for the both of us!”
But her gaze was somewhere behind, and before you could follow it, Lena was already pointing to a person behind you, screaming, “Aunty Nat!”
You caught Natasha’s gaze through the shop windows, and there she was, big bouquet of flowers in hand, dressed in the blouse Lena had picked for her when you went shopping once, and sporting the most uncertain grin on her face.
You scooped Lena up protectively, preventing her from running straight to Natasha, but Natasha had only come forward, keeping a distance safe enough for you, but close enough for you to hear what she had to say.
“I’m sorry,” she started, moving one of her thumbs to reveal a smaller bouquet of flowers behind the large ones, in Lena’s favourite sunflowers, “I fucked everything up.”
You nodded, but did not say anything.
“I realise it now, even though I’ve always known, but…I’m here, baby. For the long run, for the long haul, for everything. With both you, and Lena. I cannot imagine a life without either of you, and I’m very sorry for having made you choose between us in the past. If you give me a chance, just one last chance, I will show you how sorry I am, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Lena was reaching out for the sunflowers, and sighing, you allowed her to. Setting her down, she ran towards Natasha and the woman instinctively picked her up, peppering kisses on her face like you so often did. In response, you took the bigger bouquet, and gave her a soft smile.
“So you’re not leaving us, Nat?”
Natasha shook her head furiously, pressing a kiss to your cheek too. “Never. Sorry, again, for making you think otherwise.”
“I’ll try harder, I’ll make more time for the both of you,” she assured, “Tell me how I can make things up to you, my love.”
You pecked her on the lips, still feeling the passion and love even after weeks of separation. “You can start by buying Lena and I ice cream for today. Let’s go.”
#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#angst with a happy ending#angst with fluff
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I have an idea for pedro × reader
They get into a fight about something and the reader leaves the house . She comes back hours later and see pedro worried and angry searching for her for hours so he is mad but they finally make up . ( romantic ending please)
I’ve seen another person writing one similar request. I like the idea ! I actually like better what I wrote here than the smut (if we can even call it that) I wrote last night 😂 is this romantic enough at the end?
I’m coming back to my place tomorrow hopefully I’ll feel better than this past week at my parents!
——————————————————————————————
You were sitting on the couch, watching tv when your phone rang. Pedro was in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from lunch. You got up, thinking your phone was on the coffee table, or even the couch, but nothing.
“P? Have you seen my phone?” He turned around, looking for it.
“Yes on the counter”
“Thanks!” You said, grabbing your phone. It was work. Pedro might have seen it too because of what he said.
“Why is your work calling you on a Sunday afternoon?” You simply shrugged, showing him that you didn’t know why. But you actually knew why. You were on a big project. You had to organize a presentation, prepare an entire event on it, and at the same time, write at least twenty pages about it. You loved you job, you really did, but you hated those periods because you had to do everything alone. You had no coworkers on this, it was a one person project.
Every month works like that. Each month it’s a different person, thank god you are around twenty to work there, but it obviously had to be you at some point. Pedro knew how important it was for you, but he didn’t like how nervous and stressed out your were. You became a workaholic during this month, spending most of your time working, and doing nothing else.
It didn’t help knowing that it was actually a slow month for Pedro too. He didn’t have anything big, just a couple of interviews and photo shoots here and there. He had a lot of free time, but that wasn’t your case. Pedro was being very nice about it, you had to put with his crazy schedule the rest of the year, he could live with it for you just for a month. It was hard, but manageable. You also made a deal. Next weekend, you were going out. He found a tiny cabin lost in the woods, and thought it would be a good way to disconnect a little. So he rented it for next week.
You hoped you didn’t get the phone call you were actually having. Because even if you knew it was about your project, you didn’t know that they had move your schedule. Instead of having two weeks to finalize everything, and write your report, you only had one. They apparently had to, they had no choice, “corporate took their decision”. Sure. And it had to be you. So now, you had to find a way to tell Pedro that you couldn’t leave next week, because the event was now on Saturday.
He must have sensed it. Probably the way you walked back to the kitchen, the way you were playing with your phone, how you avoid eye contact, and how your mood changed.
“Bad news right?” You nodded. You leaned on the counter behind him, playing with your phone. He wasn’t even looking at you anymore.
“They changed my schedule” now you were staring at him, waiting for any kind of reaction, but nothing. He didn’t realize it was about next weekend. “The event is now next week” he finally turned around, looking at you.
“Are you going to be okay?” You were confused
“I’m a little behind but I think I’ll manage, but- are you?”
“Me? Yeah why?”
“My event. Is next week.. end” he suddenly stared at you
“Next Saturday?”
“Yes”
“And you said yes”
“I didn’t really have the choice”
“Why?”
“Corporate, apparently”
“That’s just some lame excuses. So what’s the real reason?”
“I don’t know that’s what they told me!”
“You didn’t ask?” Pedro was getting really annoyed. His voice got a little bit lower, but louder.
“I tried!”
“I didn’t really hear you try”
“Why are you mad at me? It’s not my fault!”
“You could have said no maybe?”
“Oh yeah so they could fire me and find someone else to do my job?”
“They would not fire you for that”
“Oh yes they would! It’s not acting here, I can’t do whatever I want, there are rules”
“Because there are not in my career?”
“I never said that!” The fight was going nowhere, you were just pissed and saying the first thing coming to your mind. It didn’t really make sense, for the both of you, but you just went with it anyway.
“Can’t you call them back?”
“For what? They chose to move the event one week sooner. I just have to get ready for it”
“But we rented”
“Can’t you call them?”
“What if I don’t want to?” Pedro was getting sassy
“And what if I don’t want to?” You crossed your arms “why do we have to do what you want, never what I want?” Pedro didn’t say anything, you couldn’t stop staring at him. “You know how much I love my job. And he’ll, you’re the one always on the move, working your ass off 24/7, and you don’t hear me complaining! I do it for one month and you can’t deal with it?” That’s when you had enough. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. You let go of your phone and left towards the door.
“Where are you going?” You didn’t say anything. You grabbed your keys, and just left the house. “Y/n wait!” Pedro ran outside, but you were already in your car, leaving the house.
You drove for what seemed forever, not even knowing where you were going. You kind of dissociated the entire time. You finally stopped, feeling thirsty. After buying an iced coffee, you went back to your car, thinking. You and Pedro never really fought. They were some misunderstandings sometimes, some disagreements, but never big fights like that one.
It is true that you never said anything while Pedro was away filming or doing press tour or interviews or whatever. But you realized that’s because he was always calling you, sending you some gifts if he was in another country, or even making you fly to him every time you could. Maybe you needed to find more time for him too, to find a way to prioritize him like he did with you.
While you were away, Pedro was pacing in the house. Feeling a huge amount of guilt. He got scared he pushed you away too much, that it was your last straw, that you were leaving for good. After thinking, he found his reaction childish. So what, you were working a lot for a short amount of time and he couldn’t handle it? After everything you went through for him? The rent was just an excuse. Oh the many times he had to delay dinner, the dates you never had because he had to film longer than expected. Maybe you should wait for y/n’s project to be over before renting anything.
At some point he decided to call you. But after hearing your phone on the counter, he got pissed. The only time you forget to take your phone with you. What if something happens? An accident? Anything! He would not know.
So he grabbed his keys, and decided to go look for you. He first went to your favorite place, a spot he had found outside of town, hoping finding you, but nothing. He then went to your best friend’s house, but they were no cars, so you weren’t there. He went to the planetarium, he remembered how you loved watching stars, and how much you were amused by the animation they had of the planets, but you were nowhere to be found.
He decided to go back home, you could be anywhere, the city was to big to find you. At some point you had to come back, so it would be better to wait at home. Once he was there, again, he couldn’t stop pacing. The sun was setting, and you were still not back. He kept looking at your phone, wishing you had taken it. He also smoked a lot, being extremely anxious.
Finally you came back home, around 8pm, more 9pm actually. Pedro didn’t eat, neither did you. You got tired driving around, the anger had left your body, you were calmer so you decided to come back. You barely entered the house that Pedro ran to you, and hugged you tight.
“Oh thank god you’re back” he whispered. You felt guilty, leaving like that. “I thought something happened, you didn’t have your phone, I looked everywhere for you” you parted. He played with your hair, looking at you anxiously
“I’m sorry, I needed some air, and I got coffee and just kept driving arou- wait you said you looked for me?”
“Yes! I went to your favorite places, but I didn’t find you”
“I’m sorry” you said hugging him again. “I shouldn’t have left like that”
“Yes please do not do that next time. I think we both overreacted on this one, but don’t scare me like that please”
“I’m sorry” you stayed silent for a few seconds. “And you were right I’m sorry”
“No I wasn’t, I’m never here, I work way too much, for once it’s your turn, I should handle it, it’s just that you really need it, and I miss you”
“I’m sorry, I miss you too” you we’re still hugging each other. “But also, I should be able to find time for you, like you always do for me”
“Then it’s settled, no more complaining and more time for us” you looked at each other smiling
“Yes. I love you too much to fight over stupid things like this”
“I couldn’t agree more” he said, caressing your back with his right hand, while the other was on your cheek. Pedro kissed your forehead. “And I love you more” you blushed
“Did you eat?”
“Nope”
“Good. Because I’m starving”
“Do you feel like cooking?”
“Hell no”
“Uber?”
“You read my mind” you both ordered your food, and devoured it in front of a movie on the couch, sitting next to each other.
Sometimes when you’re both worked up it’s hard not to lash out on the first person you see. Guess you both did that to each other. But you felt better, you both did. Releasing this tension.
You spent the evening chilling like that, not thinking about the extremely hard week coming for you, just enjoying your time with your boyfriend, in your own bubble. Nothing else mattered at the moment.
#pedro pascal#fanfic#imagine#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#oneshot#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal preferences#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal request
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Last Seen Blogs
djcharliegreen
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ranger594
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lorrittit-archives
The archives