#if you read this far thank you for reading
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The Alchemy I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood
warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence
Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.
You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.
Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.
Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.
You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”
“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.
You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”
He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.
Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”
His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.
He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”
“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.
When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.
“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.
He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.
You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.
You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.
He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.
You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”
He grunts.
You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.
You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.
And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.
You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.
You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.
You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a short beat.
“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”
You peek your head out of the bathroom door.
You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”
He snorts. “You’re not far off.”
You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”
“I do.”
“I can go in the other room if you—”
He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay then.
You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.
You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.
This guy kills people, right?
You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.
“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.
The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”
He gives a short hum, thoughtful.
“What?”
“You’re good.” Hardly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.
He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.
He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.
“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.
You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.
That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.
Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.
You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.
Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.
You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.
“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.
You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”
“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.
He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.
You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.
He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”
“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”
“Right.”
“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”
You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”
He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.
“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”
He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”
“Rest from what?”
A series of gunshots echo from down the street.
“Next question.”
Concise.
You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.
“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.
“Does it matter how I answer?”
“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”
He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”
You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”
“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”
You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”
You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”
“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.
You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”
You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”
He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.
He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”
You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”
He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”
“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”
“No.”
You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”
“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”
You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”
“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”
You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”
He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.
Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”
“You could lock your window.”
“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”
“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.
“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.
You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”
You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.
Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.
The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.
But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.
You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.
“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.
He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.
“No, I—why are you on the floor?”
You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”
“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.
You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”
“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.
You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.
It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.
You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.
It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.
He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”
You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”
“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.
“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”
His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”
You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.
You wave him off, “It’s fine.”
He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”
You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”
About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.
You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.
His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.
You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”
He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.
“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”
Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.
He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”
You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”
He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.
When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.
So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.
Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.
Hard yes.
You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.
Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.
“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”
He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”
He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”
“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.
You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.
You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”
He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.
You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.
You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.
And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.
He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.
You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.
“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”
“I am.” He says shortly.
You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”
He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”
“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.
“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”
He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”
You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.
You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”
He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.
You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.
It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.
You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.
You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”
He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”
“Wrong line of work.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”
You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”
He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”
“Someone does.”
He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”
Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.
“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.
Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”
“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”
“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.
“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”
He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”
You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”
His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”
You grin back, pleased with yourself.
There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.
You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.
You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”
You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”
“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.
He nods.
“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”
You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.
“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”
You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”
It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.
You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.
“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.
You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”
He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”
You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”
He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.
Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.
“Come on, put your weight behind it.”
You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”
He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.
You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”
He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”
You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”
“Well, we’ll work on that too.”
You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.
“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”
You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”
“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.
“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.
He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.
You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”
He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.
You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.
You perk up, “We’re done?”
“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”
Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”
You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”
He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”
You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.
You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.
“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.
In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.
He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”
You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”
He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”
You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”
You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.
He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.
Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.
You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.
Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.
He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.
He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.
You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.
“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”
You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.
Alright, one step at a time.
#jason todd loves this stranger#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#jason todd loves his gf
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Let Me Be of Service
Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Pregnant!Wife!reader
Summary: With your growing belly, it gets a lot harder to take care of yourself. Luckily, your husband is always willing to lend a helping hand
Warnings: Fluff, a little smut, reader is heavily preggo, established relationship, Bucky is down bad, Bucky shaves his girl’s cooch and boot, crack fic, embarrassing stories about each other, implied smut at the end, banter, Bucky calls reader Petal and she calls him Duckie
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: A little something something to hold you guys over while I’m working on part 2 of Change My Ways For You. Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
You hear the clashing of pans in the kitchen followed by your husband’s curse. It brings a smile to your lips, knowing that he is trying to make you breakfast in bed, even though he is probably the worst cook you have ever met. When you first started dating, he made the joke that he was the only person that could start a fire with water.
You didn’t believe him until he actually did start a fire while boiling water at his first and only attempt to make pasta for the two of you to eat. You still have no idea how he managed to do that, but ever since then it’s either you cook, he ‘helps’ you in the kitchen, which is you giving him the easiest thing to do and hope that he doesn’t blow you up, or you order out.
But ever since you got pregnant, doing everyday tasks has gotten harder. You get out of breath from just standing up. Don’t even start with trying to pick something up off the floor. If it hits the ground, it’s going to stay there until Bucky picks it up if you can’t grip it with your toes. Cooking has become a near impossible task for you. Who knew that carrying a super soldier baby would be so hard?
Your belly was larger than the average woman’s stomach for how far along you are. It wasn’t just that your belly was big though. It caused so much back pain that it was easier to just lay on your side all day, and your feet ached and pulsed from the shortest walk.
You felt like a bad wife, not able to help take care of the house, or yourself for that matter. But Bucky was a saint, he doted on you every second of the day. He took his leave of absence as soon as you started grunting while moving around. Bucky loved every minute of it though, albeit he hated seeing you in pain, but every change to your body was incredible to him. He was obsessed with how round you were, how full your breasts are, and the cute little pout that is always on your lips.
So you appreciated Bucky for trying to make you something to eat; although you knew it was going to be disgusting, possibly inedible, you would take it with a smile on your face because he tried and that was something you were grateful for.
You decided to get out of bed, not to take over making breakfast in the fear of burning down your house, of course not, but to watch your man in action. When you shifted, however, it became painfully obvious that you were overdue for a shave. The prickly hairs on your pussy were uncomfortable, making putting your legs together almost painful.
You have no idea when the last time you shaved was. All you knew was that it was when you could still see your feet, and that was a loooonnng time ago. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your body hair. He would still eat you out until you had to roll over from the weight of your belly making it hard to breathe. He never once complained about your public hair and you honestly forgot that you hadn’t shaved in so long, until this moment.
Throwing on Bucky’s henley, grateful that he was so fucking beefy so you could still fit into his shirt, although tight around the belly, and wobbled out to the kitchen. Bucky heard you, your feet heavy on the wood floors. “Petal, you’re going to love this! I made you grilled cheese and guess what?” He spins around, bright smile on his face, a grilled cheese plated in his hands.
“I have officially made something edible without us having to evacuate the house, AND it’s only slightly burnt.” The early morning sun casts a soft glow on his naked chest. He looked like a Greek god, corded muscles topped with a bit of softness, the result of your cooking and less time with the Avengers.
“Good job, Duckie. Good thing too because I’m starving. Bug isn’t going to stop kicking my bladder until she gets something to eat.” Crow’s feet bloom around Bucky’s eyes. He falls in love with you harder every day, seeing you carry his baby into the world, keeping her safe in your belly.
Bucky sets the singular grilled cheese at your spot on the table, pulling out the chair for you to sit, strong hands grabbing your waist, making sure you don’t strain yourself too hard. He spins around and gets you a cup of your favorite morning drink and places it in front of you, quickly sitting down opposite you, eagerly waiting for you to take a bite.
“Duckie, aren’t you going to have one, too?” His sweet Petal was too good to him.
“Well, Petal, only one turned out.” He gives you a sheepish smile and you can only giggle at him.
“Do you want half of mine then? I don’t mind sharing.” You were starving your ass off, but you wanted to reward Bucky with something for being so good to you.
He vehemently shakes his head. “Uh, uh, Petal, you and Bug need to eat. I can find something else. Now hurry up and tell me if I meet up to your standards.”
Before you take a bite you reach over the table to grab his right hand, running your fingers over the wedding band there. He couldn’t wear it on his left hand, but you wanted everyone to know that he was yours. “You always exceed my standards, Duck.”
Bucky blushes and gestures for you to have a taste. Your eyes widen as the cheesy snack hits your tongue. “Oh my god, this is actually good!” Bucky leans back in his chair and does a small victory dance, proud of himself for feeding his wife.
His celebration is cut short when he sees you shift in your seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Petal, what’s wrong? Is Bug kicking?” Bucky is by your side in seconds cupping your belly, only to find that Bug isn’t causing a raucous.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You look down, away from his prying eyes.
“We have been together for 8 years, Petal. I stood watch while you took a shit on the side of the highway, it can’t be that bad.”
You whip your head around. “Duckie! We don’t talk about that. I told you not to bring that up again. It was one time!” Bucky only laughs and turns his head away.
“Petal, we both know that it was twice and we had to stop by Mcdonalds so you could wash yourself after you wiped with poison ivy.” Bucky was barely containing his laughter, while you were dying of embarrassment. “You know, that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you?”
You scoffed. “When we were stuck on the highway while I popped a squat? That cannot be when you knew you were going to marry me. That is not what you said at the wedding.”
“Didn’t think that you would appreciate that story being told to all of our friends and family. But your secret is safe with me.”
“Since we are bringing up the past, remember the time you were training with Sam and he hit you in the balls and you pissed yourself. You called me to bring you a new pair of underwear and I made sure no one knew.” You turned your chin up.
“C’mon, Petal, it wasn’t even that much. It was just a dot. And it wasn’t my fault I had a full bladder. Don’t make me bring what happened last week when you-”
You slapped your hand over his mouth, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him close to you. “Don’t. You. Dare. We never mention that again, we forget it ever happened, yeah?”
Bucky moans at your dominance, it never failed to get his cock hard. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but you have to tell me what’s got you wobbling in your seat. And I know it’s not because my cooking turned you on.”
You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I can’t promise that, Petal, but I won’t judge you.” Of course, Bucky and you always laughed at each other. Never when it was something serious. But you were able to joke around when the other did something embarrassing, but he would never joke about it if you were uncomfortable.
“My pussy hurts.” You squint your eyes, the grumpiest look on your face, and cross your arms.
“Petal, that’s all you had to say. I’m an expert on taking care of my sweet girl. If I lick her bud would that make it better?” You feel your cunt pulse at his words, but the scratching is too annoying to let you get turned on.
“No, Duckie! I mean my fucking hair is too long and it’s poking me and it fucking hurts and I can’t reach to shave because of this huge belly, and it makes me feel like a sasquatch and I just want to feel pretty.” You almost burst into tears, not knowing that you had so many emotions bubbling under the surface, but then again you were pregnant and couldn’t control them.
“Oh, Petal, you are the most gorgeous woman on this planet, shaven or not. And you don’t need to worry about doing anything for yourself, you hear me? If you wanted me to, I would wipe your ass for you.” You sucked your teeth and slapped his chest.
“I’m being serious!”
“And so am I.”
Without another word, Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing and heads to your bedroom and sets you down on the soft covers. “Duckie, what are you doing?” He still doesn’t say anything as he walks into the bathroom to get a towel and your conditioner and sets them on the bed. He leaves the room only to come back a minute later with a bowl of water and his razor. “You cannot be serious right now.”
“Oh, Petal, deathly.” He flicks the towel out and lays it on the edge of the bed and sets you there, your feet planted on either side of you and you’re forced to lay back with your belly.
You don’t see what he is up to, but you feel his hot breath fan across your folds and he groans. “Petal, is this making you wet? Your husband between your legs about to service you?” He chuckles as the twitch of your clit. “Fuck, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Makes my cock so fucking hard, could cum in my pants just from eating her.”
“Duckie, don’t lie. I know it doesn’t look pretty. Probably could fucking braid it.” You fight the urge to close your legs. You haven’t had sex in almost three weeks, mainly because your body is so exhausted all the time and you know you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.
“Petal, when have I ever lied to you? You think I would lie straight to my pretty girl’s face? How could I lie right in front of Heaven?” He leans in closer and you hear the deep inhale he takes. “And about that braid comment, I learned how to braid hair in Wakanda so that isn’t a problem for me.”
He gets a giggle out of you. “I can’t fucking believe you. You’re such a dork.” Rather than hear his chuckle, you feel it, his mouth pressed against your cunt, lapping your juices. “Fuck, oh shit, don’t stop.”
“Mmh, so fucking good. Don’t even need to eat breakfast when I have this meal on a fucking platter.” He dives back in, arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place. With his hands occupied with your thighs, you were able to grind against his mouth, urging him to focus on your clit. Bucky was in his own world, the hairs pressing against his face not deterring him in the slightest.
His groan is deep and sends shockwaves up your spine, unable to stop the jerk of your hips. All at once, Bucky lets go of your thighs and turns away to sneeze. With great difficulty, you sit up and stare at him, perplexed. “Duckie, you better not fucking tell me that my pubes make you sneeze or so help me.”
Bucky falls onto his back, clutching his stomach as his laughter rings out in the room. The obvious tent is his pants still there. “I’m sorry, Petal, just tickled my nose is all.” His entire face is red, each word coming out in a wheeze.
“Duckie, it’s not funny.” Even at your protests, you feel yourself unable to control your laughter.
“If it’s not funny, then why are you laughing, Petal?” Bucky is finally able to control himself enough to sit up and rest his head on your thigh.
“Because you were laughing. Don’t you dare try and eat me out right now.” You push his forehead away, much to his dismay. “Are you going to shave me or not?” Your pout has him pressing his lips together to stop the giggle from leaving his lips.
“Of course, my hedge.”
“DUCKIE!”
“I’m only joking.”
You lay back and prop your feet up again, jolting slightly as Bucky runs his hands, dipped in water, over your folds and mound. While slightly more prepared for the conditioner, it still feels foreign to have his hands touching you like this.
“Fuck, Petal, just one more taste.”
“Duckie.”
“Fine.”
He starts with your lips, using one hand to hold them tight, taking extra care not to knick your sensitive skin. “Hey, Duckie?” The only view you have is of the ceiling so you don’t see the absolute concentration on Bucky’s face, tongue poking out, and eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah, Petal?”
“Do you think it’s normal that I’m getting turned on by this?” Bucky loved that you were comfortable enough in your relationship to casually talk about random things, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you for them, most of the time he was on the same page as you anyway.
“Probably not, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m solid as a rock right now.” You giggle at his casual tone, almost as if he was asking you how your day was. “Don’t move, I’m performing a delicate operation here.” It only makes you giggle more and Bucky has to pull away, leaning over to the side so you could see his face.
“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay here then.” It was Bucky’s turn to suck his teeth in but doesn’t say anything else.
“Hey, Duckie?” Bucky sighs and begrudgingly answers. “Is that my slick running down my ass or water? I need to know how embarrassed I should be.”
“I could give it a taste and answer you.”
“Ew, no. I probably have little bits of hair everywhere.”
With each stroke of the razor you feel yourself relax more and more. The constant presence of his hands soothing you. Bucky taps your leg to signal that you’re done and picks you up, bending you over the bed. “Duckie, we are not having sex right now.”
“Petal, you know that I am very thorough in everything that I do, and I still have your perfect ass to shave” You groan and bury your face into the covers.
“C’mon, Duck, this is worse than before. I feel so exposed.” Bucky rubs his hand down your spine, his other hand reaching under you to support your belly.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, and I’m going to make my girl feel pretty.” He lands a light slap to your right asscheek and grinds his hips against your cunt once before pulling away.
He works just the same, using one hand to spread you open while carefully removing all your hair. When he’s done he pulls back, one hand cupping each cheek. You huff when he jiggles your ass to his heart’s content, letting him have his reward for taking care of you.
“Duckie! Did you just bite my fucking ass?”
“Couldn’t help it, Petal, so fucking sexy.”
You contemplate if you should kick him or kiss him. Your decision is cut short when he rolls you over again, now looking at your face. “Petal, we still have two legs to do and they both lead to my favorite petals.”
Fuck, you were in for it.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#sebastian stan x reader#husband!bucky
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What is my favorite Steve Harrington moment? Thank you so much for asking. It's "Oh..."
When Robin comes out to Steve, there is a moment where we're unsure about how he'll respond.
"But...Tammy Thompson's a girl."
"Steve..."
It's tense. He thinks for a moment, realizes what she means, and responds "Oh..."
There are so many ways that tiny little line could've been delivered. It could've easily portrayed disgust. It could've sounded surprised or confused or angry. It even could've been played for a laugh.
But somehow, Joe Keery managed to deliver that line in a way that is so unbelievably full of tenderness. It is soft and surprised, yes, but also comforting and apologetic. It's like he's realizing there's this whole part of her that he hasn't even noticed. It is understanding. It is empathy.
Every time I watch this scene, I can feel the tension that Robin is feeling, but I can also feel the relief that follows after that one little "Oh..." It's a far cry from the way we see Steve interact with characters in vulnerable positions like that in earlier seasons. Unbelievable amounts of growth are shelled in that "Oh".
How ridiculously impressive on Joe Keery's part that he was able to tell such a convincing story from one little sound. One of the most impactful examples of platonic love that I've ever seen in media. Maybe It sounds silly or like I'm reading too much into it, but I've always felt it so deeply no matter how many times I watch the show. It is so earnest.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#king steve#steve#stranger things steve#joe keery#joe kerry#stranger things#eddie munson#robin buckley#robin
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Bad: I don't think we've reached an ending, but we've reached an end for some things. [...] There are no permanent endings, Chat. There are no permanent goodbyes. Only goodbyes for now. Only goodbyes for now, ok?
Bad talks a little bit to his chat about the Egg admins leaving, and the future.
[ Transcript ↓ ]
—
Bad: All right, Chat. I need to have a serious talk with you for a little bit. Here Pepito, I'm gonna keep riding! Sorry Pepito, I’ll keep riding. I'm gonna have a serious talk with the Chat since we got 12 minutes to kill.
But yes, Chat. Yes, some of the… Eggies are leaving, which I know is a really sad thing to see following such a fun and happy day of Murder Mystery, which was really fun. And I know– as far as I know right now, just, I'm aware that I was– I'm aware that Pepito— er, not- sorry, Pepito is behind me, see Pepito? He's right there.
As far as I know, Chat, right now I'm aware of Richas left, or will be leaving, Lullah will be leaving, and I believe Chayanne will be leaving. And… it's really heartbreaking. And it's hard to talk about, obviously, ‘cuz we made so many memories with them over the past year. So… I think, I don't know. Obviously like, there's things I wanna say, things I will say, things I won't say, you know… And I just… I dunno. Right now just gonna… filling you guys in. But uh, yeah, they will no longer be around. So… Yeah, it’s very sad, I’m very sad. But I think…
I don't think– or at least I'd say I hope that it's not the end of any particular adventures for them going forward.
And I don't know, we'll see what the future holds for any particular thing. You feel me? Just like– just enjoy the memories today. Relish in the sadness chat. Embrace the sadness for a bit, and understand that like, I think tomorrow will be better, and just give the love and appreciation to the amazing people— give the love and appreciation, Chat, to the amazing people of the project who worked so hard and put their heart and soul into everything they did. All of the Eggy actors, all the builders, all the people who worked on everything. Each one of them. I think each one of the Eggs really put themselves into their characters.
Obviously, in particular, I was particularly close to Dapper, Pomme, and Richas, and I'm gonna miss them the most, obviously, Chat. I don't know personally, I don't know what my– I can't speak necessarily on what my future holds because… you know, in regards to anything ‘cuz I'm just kinda going through the emotions right now and just kind of feeling the emotions, you know?
[Groans] I dunno, Chat. I’m just feelin’ it, and sometimes it’s hard to put things into words. You know? When you’re feeling stuff. So… It's hard to play, uh… it's hard to play Minecraft with, um, with people for so long, Chat. You know, to spend so much time with people. And you guys were here for the ride, you were here for the journey. Don't be sad when a particular ride happens, Chat. Be happy you were able to ride it to begin with. Ok?
I think– I feel– I think personally, Chat, I feel very blessed to have been able to experience the– and do this stuff I've been able to, you know?
[Long silence]
Ah, we're almost there, we're almost there, Chat.
[Sighs, then reads a chat message] “Thank you for bringing us on this journey with you” I don't think—
One: I don't think the journey is over completely, right? I can't say with certainty Chat, what the future holds, right? And I don't know– I don't know what the future holds, Chat. I don't think– I don't think we've reached an ending, but we have– we’ve reached the end for some things, yes. And as for what it means– what I mean by “an ending,” I dunno. We'll see what happens, you know? I think the chapter as far as like— obviously, like… you know, when you graduate school for example, right? It is an ending of sorts. It's an ending of THAT experience, right? The experience that you had with those particular people in that particular place. It's not an ending to those people, or your interactions with those people. You feel me?
[Sighs] There's other things I want to say Chat, but… I’m doin’ my best to just keep myself reigned in a little bit. Guess I'm feeling a little- a lil’ emotional. Trying to reign in those emotions, you know? One day at a time. But make sure you're following, and stick around, because I have a feeling we'll have more fun stuff that you guys will not want to miss. Trust me. Trust me Chat, every day is gonna be an adventure.
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'I love you, it's ruining my life' | Part ii
Joel Miller x f!reader
part one | part three
summary: The aftermath of your confession and how all it ended, for now.
w.c: 3,9k
warnings: angst and just angst. Perhaps grammar mistakes cuz even when I edited the chapter, I tend to be stupid.
a/n: As I promised, part 2 is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave it to the first part, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. This part will not be the end, so a third part is already in the works to end this mini story since I had to talk about the aftermath of the events in part 1 and I couldn't fit everything here, you know. Part iii may have a time jump. Happy ending or sad ending for these two?? Make your bets after reading this part. Happy reading 💌
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
After what had just happened, you closed the door of your house with a slam, as if that would help you to silence the thump of your heart cracking with anguish. You didn't even get to savor the taste of Joel's lips on yours; they felt tainted by poison and treason creeping from the unfaithful actions of two people in a vulnerable state. You felt completely dirty by your actions; the tears streamed down your face, washing the warm hands of Joel over your checks away, with the salty rustling of his skin on yours.
After a few seconds, you recovered your composure, inhaling the smell of your soon-to-be ex-home. You looked around your living room; there were boxes containing all the memories you had made for the last eight years of your life inside, saved from the postmortem state. All the days, seconds, and years seemed illicit and foreign, and you could not stop crying.
You sat by the door, head on your knees, next to the window, stealing glimpses of a frantic Joel, who was now walking towards his car, getting away from you for real. Your heart broke even more because you knew that your confession didn’t matter and that you were destined to recall things you never did. He had made his choice. He was going to get married to another woman, and you weren’t going to witness such torture.
You stood from the ground towards your bedroom, still crying from the hope you had that he was going to love you that way, but he didn't, and you couldn't blame him. He was a good man, one who knew how to love but not how to receive, or perhaps he didn’t want it from you.
As you retreated to your bedroom, the weight of your actions bore down on you like a crushing wave. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened by the knowledge that you had irreversibly altered the course of your life and Joel's.
The tears continued to flow unabated, leaving a trail of salty bitterness in their wake. You collapsed onto your bed, the sheets offering little solace from the storm raging within you.
When you made your way upstairs, you didn’t know that Joel turned back towards your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt gnawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing apart his insides with every breath. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with its weight.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn back, to run as far away from the mess he had created as possible. But something, perhaps a glimmer of hope or a desperate longing for closure, propelled him forward, urging him to face the consequences of his actions.
You loved him, and he loved you too. He had waited to hear those words for so many years, and now they felt like treason, and he felt like a villain.
With a trembling hand, he opened the door of this car and drove towards Tess’s house, not knowing this would be the last time you would be sleeping next to his house.
As Joel arrived at Tess's house, he was greeted by the warm glow of the porch light and the familiar scent of her perfume wafting through the air. But instead of feeling comforted by her presence, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled over him like a dark cloud.
As he stepped inside, Tess's worried expression immediately caught his attention. She approached him with a furrowed brow, her eyes searching his face for answers.
"Joel, I'm so glad you're here," she said, her voice tinged with concern.
“Of course, what seemed to be so urgent?”
"I...I called you because I needed to talk to you about something." She spoke.
Joel's heart skipped a beat as he listened to her words, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a heavy weight in his chest.
"What is it, Tess?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tess took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke. "I couldn't shake this feeling, Joel. The thought of you spending the night after our wedding with...with her," she paused, unable to bring herself to say your name. "It just didn't sit right with me.” She paused, “We’re getting married tomorrow, and I just need to know that she won’t ruin our lives.”
“Why would she?” Joel asked, feeling an urgent desire to defend you.
Tess hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she struggled to find the right words. "I don't know, Joel. It's just that there's always been something between you two. Something I can't quite put my finger on."
Joel's heart sank at her words, the weight of guilt settling heavier upon him. He felt his heart exploding from the shame. He looked down at his hands, taking his time to gather all his courage and act like a man.
“I kissed her.” He confessed, and the silence sliced the skin of both. “I kissed her because I wanted to do it.”
As Joel uttered those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, thick with the weight of his confession. Tess's eyes widened in shock, her hands trembling as she struggled to process the revelation.
The air hung heavy with tension as Joel's words echoed in the space between them, the truth of his betrayal leaving a bitter taste in the air. He could feel Tess's gaze boring into him, her expression a mix of disbelief and hurt.
"I... okay," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll pretend it didn’t happen, but she is not coming to the wedding, and you won’t see her again.”
Her attempts to mend an already broken trust were being stabbed with a knife.
"She won't because there won't be a wedding, Tess," Joel said, his voice filled with resignation. "I can't go through with it, not like this. Not when I know that I've already destroyed any chance we had at happiness. Not when I don’t know what I feel.”
Tess's eyes widened in shock at his words, her heart lurching painfully in her chest. She had never imagined that their love could unravel so completely and that the future they had planned together could crumble before her eyes.
“And you deserved a man who didn’t put his love for you in doubt when the woman he waited to love confessed her feelings to him,” Joel said.
Tears welled up in Tess's eyes as she looked at Joel, her voice trembling with emotion. "I...I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the weight of their shattered dreams.
Joel reached out to her, his hand trembling as he gently brushed away her tears. "I'm sorry, Tess," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... don't know what I want anymore."
Tess felt a surge of anger rise within her at Joel's words, the pain of his betrayal still raw and fresh in her heart. But beneath the anger, there was also a sense of resignation, a realization that their love had been built on shaky ground from the start.
"And what about her?" Tess asked, her voice tinged with bitterness. "What about her? Do you know what you want with her?"
Joel looked away, unable to meet Tess's gaze. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know anything anymore."
Tess felt a lump form in her throat at Joel's words, and the next thing Joel felt was a slap on his cheek.
Joel felt a pang of sorrow shoot through his heart at Tess's action, as if all her resentment had consumed him with the hit of her hand on his skin. Tess turned away before he could even realize it. Withit tears streaming down her cheeks, Joel knew that he had lost her for good. And though it pained him to admit it, he knew deep down that he deserved every bit of her anger and resentment.
And his thoughts drifted to you. For him, it was a feeling in his heart at the thought of not having you in his life anymore.
He had broken the hearts of two women last night, and he couldn't bear that feeling.
Joel woke up at noon the next day. There wasn't going to be a wedding that day. He had told Tess he had kissed you because he felt it. There were tears, yelling, slurs screaming at him, and even a slap when it was completely deserved.
He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night playing out in his mind like a never-ending loop. The tears, the yelling, the slap—it all echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.
Joel knew that there wasn't going to be a wedding that day and that the future he had envisioned with Tess had been shattered beyond repair. And as he lay there in the silence of his empty house, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of emptiness.
But even as his heart ached with longing, Joel knew that he had to face the consequences of his actions. He had hurt Tess, shattered her trust, and broken her heart, and he couldn't ignore the pain he had caused.
With a heavy sigh, Joel dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the bitter taste doing little to chase away the bitter taste of regret that lingered in his mouth.
As he sipped his coffee, Joel knew he had a long road ahead of him. He had to find a way to make amends and earn back the trust and forgiveness of those he had wronged. And amidst it all, he vowed to do whatever it took to hold onto the love he felt for you and to fight for a future where you could be together, despite the odds stacked against them.
Joel had met Tess two years ago. At first, it was something cosmic and faster, like spending some time together after he had fixed her house, but then the pages between them started to get written and Joel began to spend less time with you. You tried to dismiss the gut-wrenching feeling consuming your void inside, but you promised him to take care of Sarah, while he had taken the chance to bet on love once again.
He deserved it, but you wanted to be the one, and you consumed yourself into your own pity just for one glimpse of his smile, hoping someday he would notice you that way.
It was two months later when Joel invited you to meet Tess for the first time. As you stepped into the cozy café where they had arranged to meet, a pang of bittersweet emotion tugged at your heart. You couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at you, knowing that Joel was introducing you to someone who could potentially become his wife someday.
Despite the ache in your chest, you plastered on your best smile, determined to be supportive for Joel's sake. After all, you had promised to always be there for him, no matter what.
As Tess walked in, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joel, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. They were already sharing a secret language you would never get to understand. She was everything you weren't—beautiful, confident, and effortlessly charming. And as Joel introduced you to her, the weight of his hand on your shoulder felt like a silent reassurance, a reminder of the bond you shared as best friends.
You exchanged pleasantries with Tess, forcing yourself to push aside the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. You laughed at her jokes, engaged in small talk, and did your best to be the supportive friend that Joel needed you to be.
But beneath the façade of your smiles and laughter, your heart ached with a sense of loss. You were already grieving your friendship with Joel, as if you were feeling the distance growing between you both, as if his introduction of Tess marked the beginning of a new chapter—one where you would no longer be his sole confidante and companion.
And as you watched Joel and Tess interact, their laughter mingling in the air like a melody of happiness, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to stand in her shoes—to be the one who captured Joel's heart and made him smile in that way.
But despite the ache in your chest, you pushed aside your own desires and fears, burying them beneath layers of friendship and loyalty. Because in that moment, all that mattered was Joel's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of your own.
You made sacrifices for the people you loved.
As Joel's thoughts drifted back to the present, he tried to recall all the times he missed the way you glanced at him full of love, and he didn’t even notice. Even when he was the one looking out beyond the simple glimpses,.
He felt like a fool. Joel sat in the quiet solitude of his house, contemplating the light of the sun creeping through the window. His thoughts drifted to you once again and again. He knew that he needed to come to talk to you later to make amends for the pain he had caused and perhaps even begin to write a new chapter in your relationship. But deep down, he also knew that he needed time to heal himself and mend the wounds of his own heart before he could hope to repair the damage he had done to yours.
Lost in his thoughts, Joel was jolted back to reality when the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Turning his head, he watched as Tommy stepped into the house, a tired Sarah sleeping in his arms. The pitying glance that Tommy shot him didn't go unnoticed, a silent reminder of the wreckage of his almost-married life.
Joel offered a weak smile in return, his heart heavy with the weight of his own guilt and remorse. He knew that he had let everyone down—Tess, you, and even himself—and he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that hung over him like a dark cloud.
But as he watched Tommy and Sarah disappear into the other room, Joel knew that he couldn't wallow in self-pity forever. He had to find a way to pick up the pieces of his broken life and move forward, even if the road ahead seemed daunting and uncertain.
Lost in his thoughts, Joel didn't notice when Tommy returned to the living room, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "Hey, Joel, why didn't you tell me?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Joel blinked, snapping out of his reverie as he turned to face Tommy. "Tell you what?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Why didn't you tell me that “bubu” was moving out?" Tommy clarified; his tone was laced with concern. "I saw the moving truck leaving.
Joel's heart sank at Tommy's words, a wave of realization washing over him. He remembered now—the conversation from last night, your tearful confession that you were leaving for good. "She couldn’t be serious," he had whispered, the words heavy with disbelief and desperation.
Without another word, Joel stepped away from the couch, his movements heavy with purpose as he made his way towards the door. Ignoring Tommy's calls behind him, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, only to be met with the emptiness of your house next door.
The sight of your empty home, stripped bare of all its memories, hit Joel like a punch to the gut. The realization that you were truly gone, that he had let you slip through his fingers without a fight, left him feeling hollow and alone.
With a heavy heart, Joel sank to his knees on the doorstep, the weight of his regrets crushing him beneath their unbearable burden. And as he gazed up at the empty windows of your house, he couldn't help but wonder if he had lost you forever.
It was a warm summer afternoon when Sarah said her first word. You, Joel, and Sarah were lounging in the living room, playing with her favorite toys.
As Sarah babbled and cooed, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at the colorful shapes before her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and wonder wash over you. Watching her grow and learn had become a highlight of your days, a bright spot in an otherwise ordinary existence.
“Bubu”
Joel's face lit up with pride and joy as he scooped up his daughter, a mixture of awe and amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Did she just say her first word?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder.
You couldn't help but laugh at Joel's playful jealousy, knowing that he was only teasing. "Oh my god, baby!" you cooed, reaching out to gently stroke Sarah's soft cheek. "You're just too clever for your own good, aren't you?"
"Bubu," Sarah repeated, her eyes sparkling with innocence as she reached out towards you, her chubby fingers grasping at the air.
"I can't believe she didn't say 'father' first," Joel joked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
You chuckled at Joel's comment, feeling a surge of warmth fill your heart at the playful banter between father and daughter. "Don't be jealous, Joel," you teased, giving him a gentle nudge. "I'm 'Bubu'—that's a tough title to beat!"
And as Sarah continued to babble and coo, her laughter filling the room with its infectious joy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging there.
From that moment on, "Bubu" became your nickname, a term of endearment that Joel had bestowed upon you in honor of Sarah's first word.
And though the years had passed since that day and Sarah had long outgrown her baby talk, the nickname had stuck. It had become a symbol of the bond you shared with Joel and her, a reminder of the love and affection that had blossomed between you over the years.
Back in the present, Joel sat alone in his bedroom, the weight of his regrets heavy on his shoulders. The memories of the events that had unfolded in recent days weighed heavily on his mind, filling him with a sense of profound sorrow and remorse.
As he sat in the quiet solitude of his living room, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate the air around him. The absence of your presence in his life had already left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping wound that refused to heal.
And your letter on his hands weighs like the steam of a rose, making his hands bleed as the words written on it punctuate deep wounds in them.
“Joel,
As I sit down to write this letter, my heart feels heavy with the weight of everything that has happened between us. There are so many words I want to say and so many apologies I want to offer, but I know that mere words can never truly express the depth of my regret and remorse.
I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you and that every choice I made was made out of fear and confusion. But I know that my actions have caused you pain too, and for that, I am truly sorry.
I know that things between us may never be the same again and that the trust we once shared may be irreparably damaged. But I need time and space to heal and to find a way to live my life away from you.
I want you to know that I love you, Joel, more than words could ever express. You have been my rock, my confidant, and my closest friend, and the thought of losing you fills me with a pain that is almost too much to bear. My biggest expression of love is letting you go.
Please know that I will always cherish the memories we shared together, the laughter, the tears, and the moments of joy and sorrow that we experienced side by side. And no matter what the future may hold, those memories will always hold a special place in my heart.
I hope that one day we will be able to look back on this time with a sense of gratitude, knowing that it was the challenges we faced together that ultimately brought us closer. Until then, know that you are always in my thoughts, in my heart, and in my prayers. And know that no matter what happens, I will always love you, now and forever.
Have a wonderful wedding and a happy marriage with Tess. I hope you know you deserve to be loved.
I’ll miss you and Sarah so much."
With all my love,
Bubu or you can just call me by my real name now.
As Joel read the words of your letter, each sentence pierced his heart like a dagger, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. The weight of your words pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, leaving him feeling numb and hollow inside.
He hadn’t gotten married, and you thought he had. You left thinking he got married to another woman.
The realization that you were truly gone, that you had made the agonizing decision to leave him behind, sent a wave of despair crashing over him. He felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.
Tears welled up in Joel's eyes as he read the final lines of your letter, your words of farewell echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain. The emptiness of your absence loomed large in the room, a stark reminder of all that he had lost.
With trembling hands, Joel clutched the letter to his chest, as if holding onto it could somehow keep you from slipping away from him completely. But deep down, he knew that no amount of pleading or begging could change your mind, that you had made your decision, and there was nothing he could do to change it for now.
You were truly the biggest loss of his life; there was too much to grieve and yet so much to hold onto. He was going to go back for you, but he had to heal that part of him that pushed you away from him and let you find yourself before he could come back into your life again.
.......
I'm tagging people who asked me and those who asked for a part 2, if you want to be removed you can tell me 💌
💌 taggs: @immywonderdefender @sarahhxx03 @powellssaturn @ifall4dilfs @harriedandharassed @skysmiller
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller series#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Joel Miller#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal
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modus operandi ✩ enhypen (m.list)
welcome to precinct seven! balancing the demands of justice with their own demons, the detectives must confront their pasts and navigate the blurred lines between right and wrong in a gripping tale of mystery, betrayal, and redemption.
✩ general warnings: !!SLOW BURN!! fluff, angst, possible suggestive themes/smut for hyungline but unlikely (and if so, it will be tagged individually.) darker/heavy themes (descriptive mentions of crimes.) warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.
✩ series playlist: modus operandi ✩ enhypen [spotify + ongoing]
✩ starry night - yang jungwon ✩
✩ synopsis: your favorite constellation is cassiopeia, and you talk about it as often as you can. what you don't realize is that your eyes hold all the stars, and jungwon sees that more than anyone.
✩ pairing: detective!yjw x delivery driver!reader
✩ genre: acquaintances to lovers | idiots to lovers.
✩ read here!
✩ falling alone - lee heeseung ✩
✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung's specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband's.
✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader
✩ genre: established relationship to ??? | opposites attract.
✩ read here!
✩ speed drive - park jongseong ✩
✩ synopsis: meeting you is like looking in a mirror of what could have been, who he could have been. it doesn't help that your passion runs deep, deeper than his love for his job.
✩ pairing: detective!pjs x clandestine racer!reader
✩ genre: fated lovers | star-crossed lovers.
✩ read here!
✩ easy, kitty - sim jaeyun ✩
✩ synopsis: after years of being referred to as a white whale by your respective detectives and being poorly sought after by single (and...not-so-single) suitors in your department, you're rescued by sim jaeyun - only for information in return.
✩ pairing: detective!sjy x bookkeeper!reader
✩ genre: fake dating au | unrequited love.
✩ read here!
✩ radio silence - park sunghoon ✩
✩ synopsis: in which you break sunghoon's heart just a little bit more every time you ask him to help you run background checks on any of the suitors on your roster.
✩ pairing: private investigator!psh x radio host!reader
✩ genre: former friends with benefits to ??? | childhood sweethearts.
✩ read here!
✩ dilemmas & desires - kim sunoo ✩
✩ synopsis: kim sunoo was by far your biggeset opponent - both in and out of the court room. he fought his way to the top, and you hated coming in second to his wins...much like you hated being second priority to his studies when you dated in law school.
✩ pairing: attorney!ksn x attorney!reader
✩ genre: rivals to lovers | second chance romance.
✩ read here!
✩ first impressions - riki nishimura ✩
✩ synopsis: first impressions are everything - so when riki spills coffee all over you the first time you meet, it's safe to say you're not very fond of him...right?
✩ pairing: rookie detective!riki x rookie detective!reader
✩ genre: coworkers to lovers | mutual pining.
✩ read here!
author's notes: special thanks to @enhaeven for encouraging me to write this series. i wouldn't be doing this without you, and thank you for always thinking of me and believing in me. i love you! ♡
author's note pt.2: none of these stories are meant to romanticize criminal activity and i do not encourage breaking the law. keep your buffoonery at a minimum. thanks!
babeyun © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enhypen angst#enha fluff#heeseung x reader#heeseung angst#park jay x reader#jay angst#jake x reader#jake angst#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon angst#sunoo x reader#sunoo angst#jungwon x reader#jungwon fluff#ni-ki x reader#ni-ki fluff#heeseung smut#jake smut
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"Naturally gravitating closer together" for buddie 🥰
hello and thank you! this sort of turned into a bobby POV ficlet and i'm not sure why?? anyway, here you go! (can be but doesn't have to be read as a continuation of this ficlet)
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Bobby's not even sure they notice they're doing it. It's like watching a slow-motion dance across his backyard, the way they keep drifting back toward each other like celestial objects caught up in each other's gravity. Buck goes to get a pair of beers from the cooler and hands one to Eddie, who takes it and leans into his shoulder. Then they're off again, Eddie wandering over to talk to Christopher and Buck darting in to help Maddie catch Jee-Yun's party balloon before it floats off. A few minutes later, Eddie slips back into Buck's space, bumping shoulders and sipping his beer.
It's not that different from how they've always been. Bobby's not even sure he can put his finger on what's changed, only that there's an awareness to them now, an intentionality that wasn't there before.
"You've got your thinking face on," Athena remarks, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning into him. Bobby smiles and leans back.
"Just watching the party."
"Mmhm." She's quiet for a minute, sipping her drink. Bobby's quiet too, savoring the moment: the light breeze shifting the trees, the happy family gathered in his home, the familiar way his wife fits against him. Then Athena says, "You think they finally got it together? Buck and Eddie, I mean."
Bobby glances down at her. "What do you mean?"
"Bobby," she says, a fond, indulgent eye-roll in her voice.
"It's not my business."
"Mmhm. Could be your business, seeing as how they work together on your team."
He laughs, looping an arm around her hips. On the other side of the yard, Christopher has abandoned his barbeque wings for some kind of card game with Harry and Denny on the patio, and Buck and Eddie have closed the distance on the bench where he was sitting, pressed together shoulder to hip as they talk. And the thing is, Athena's not wrong. If he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing, it'll have to be his business, at least as far as HR forms go. But he remembers those early, heady days of sneaking around with Athena—kissing her behind the firetrucks, thrilling at every casual touch, drawn irresistibly into her orbit and the delight of something tender and new growing in the scorched wreckage of his personal life—and he can't quite bring himself to be a responsible fire captain about this just yet.
"I think I'm going to give them a minute," he says. "They deserve that."
Over at the bench, Buck says something that makes Eddie laugh and ruffle his hair. He leaves his hand on Buck's nape once he's done, the sort of half-casual plausibly-deniable touch that Bobby remembers pulling as a teenager in the back row of movie theaters. He doesn't mean to snort, but he can't quite help it.
"Oh, they're really not slick, are they," Athena observes mildly.
Bobby laughs. "It's new. It's exciting. I remember how that feels."
"Mm. You do, do you?"
"Yeah." He turns away from Buck and Eddie, and smiles down at his wife. "I really do."
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Building Each Other Up Pt. 2
Read Pt. 1 here.
Mark's POV
"Fuckkk," I muttered, flexing and feeling up my body and arms. The sensation of Shane being expelled from me, while surprising, actually felt really good—almost like a mental-only orgasm.
Shane, now in my body, was still sitting on the floor, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes. I took a moment to take it all in, before finally looking down at him.
"Shane, you okay?" I asked. “Or should I call you Mark now?” I said with a smile.
He blinked a few times, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, his voice—my voice—definitely a bit angry.
"I don't know, man. This is new for me too. I guess... I guess I pushed you out. Are you alright?" I said.
"No! Dude, what the fuck, why wouldn’t you get out?"
I raised my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to stay that long. I was just having such a good time training, and I wanted to help you out."
His eyes narrowed, frustration evident in his tone. "Well, that fucking sucked to be trapped inside my head for that long.”
"I know, I know," I said, my voice earnest. "I'm really sorry. I got carried away. It won't happen again."
"Okay, do we have any more of the potion on hand? Is that all we need to swap back, you think?" Shane asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Wait, wait, hold on," I said quickly. "You're out now. Why don't we just stay like this for a little bit? I'll keep training in your body, and you can actually enjoy the time off rather than just being locked in your head."
He looked at me, still clearly annoyed but weighing his options. To swap back, he knew he would need to jump into my body and go through that whole process again. And who knows if he’d be able to actually force me out of this sexy body if I didn’t want to leave?
Shane sighed, running a hand through his—my—hair. "Okay," he relented. "But just a few days. And you better not pull any more stunts."
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Scout's honor. Just a few days, I promise. And I’ll keep pushing hard at the gym to make sure you're in the best shape possible for the competition."
Before he could change his mind, I left the gym and walked out to my car and quickly took a few selfies.
---
The next night, I invited Ali over. It had been over a week since we’d last met up, and I was excited to be able to fuck him without Shane being there—it felt more intimate.
I wasn’t entirely sure how Shane felt about the sex part of the arrangement. Usually, if I even hinted at the idea of hooking up with a guy, he’d retreat into his subconscious and not be a part of it. He didn’t have a problem with me doing it per se. I mean how could he, it was his idea first. But I just think he found the whole thing a bit weird to not be in control of. I kind of got off on that back in the day, but I respect that he doesn’t.
But now, this was going to be the third time I’d hooked up with Ali. Maybe Shane would have a problem with me hooking up with the same guy so consistently—he probably wouldn’t want to give Ali the wrong ideas about this body.
Well, the good thing at least is that I’ve only really been messaging Ali on Grindr so far. I had made a profile using Shane’s pics on my own phone so that I could keep the fun going even when I was out of it. I made sure to have a secret backlog of photos too. All that to say, there’s not a huge risk of Shane finding out.
When the doorbell rang, I opened the door to see Ali standing there, looking hotter than ever in his tank top, beads of sweat still glistening from his workout. I could tell he had come straight from the gym, and the sight of his toned muscles and confident stride sent a jolt of excitement through me.
"Hey," he greeted me with a warm smile as he stepped inside. "You look great."
"Thanks, you too," I replied, my eyes drinking in the sight of his fit, athletic body.
We made our way to the living room, and as we settled in, Ali turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, I was thinking... how about we go on an actual date tonight instead of jumping straight into the hookup?"
I was taken aback. A date? I couldn’t remember the last time I went on a no-kidding date. Usually, the hot bottoms Ali’s age didn’t give my old body that kind of chance. I was more just a fun older fantasy for them—a quick, no-strings-attached daddy thrill.
"An actual date?" I repeated, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.
I hesitated for a moment, processing the words before saying, "Sure, why not? I’d like that."
We went downtown to a movie theater and watched the latest superhero movie. The place was packed, but we managed to get good seats near the back. About halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet moment, Ali reached over and gently took my hand in his. I glanced over at him, and he gave me a shy smile. Sure we had already fucked, but something about the innocence of the gesture made my heart race.
Later, as the movie progressed, I decided to make a move of my own. I shifted my hand from his and placed it on his muscular thigh, rubbing it up and down. My large hand practically swallowed his thigh, making it look small in comparison. Ali turned to me and grinned, biting his lip.
When the credits rolled and the lights came up, we both stood and stretched, exchanging amused looks as we mimicked the superhero poses we’d just seen on screen. Damn that tank top left nothing to be desired as he flexed his biceps for me.
As we walked back to his place, we joked the whole way there.
"Damn, you're really funny," I said, nudging him playfully with my elbow.
"Thanks," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "I try."
When we reached his apartment building, I turned to him, feeling a bit reluctant to end the night. "I had a really nice time tonight. I really want to do this again sometime."
"Oh yeah, me too," Ali said with a grin. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "But we aren't done yet." He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him up to his apartment.
I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him inside. His apartment was cozy and stylish, and filled with cool travel memorabilia.
"So, what now?" I asked, leaning in closer.
Ali smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, we could start by picking up where we left off in the theater."
I didn’t need any more encouragement. I leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
We have a seat on the couch, and Ali wastes no time straddling me. I grab both sides of his waist, guiding him as he grinds on me through our clothes. The friction is intoxicating, and I can feel my dick getting hard, pressing insistently against my jeans.
Ali's hands are all over my pecs, exploring the firm muscles beneath my shirt. "Take it off," he whispers, lifting the fabric and tossing it aside. "Flex for me."
I oblige quickly, flexing my chest muscles, watching his eyes light up with desire. He leans in, moving to the side to lick my hairy pits. He moans, "God, you smell so good."
I grab the back of his head, holding him there with a firm but reassuring grip. The sensation of his tongue against my skin is electric, sending shivers down my spine. Eventually, he lifts his head, his eyes glazed with lust. He stands up, strips down in front of me, and straddles my waist again. This time, he’s naked, and he starts rubbing his hard cock between my pecs.
The feel of his smooth skin and the sight of his cock sliding between my pecs almost makes me lose control right then and there. I’m already on the edge, and I haven’t even entered him yet.
Ali takes off my pants, his fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls them down. He positions himself over my cock, looking down at me with a mix of anticipation and desire.
"You ready, cutie?" I ask, my voice low and husky.
"Yes, sir," he replies, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Good boy," I tell him as he slowly starts to sit, taking in all of my manhood. The tightness and heat around my cock are almost too much to bear. He moves at his own pace, adjusting to my size, and I can see the concentration and pleasure on his face.
He finally settles down completely, and we both let out a groan of satisfaction. I grip his hips firmly, guiding his movements as he starts to ride me. The rhythm builds slowly at first, then faster, more urgent.
"Fuck, you feel so good," I murmur, my hands roaming over his body, caressing his skin.
Ali's hands are braced on my chest, his fingers digging into my muscles as he rides me. "You too, sir," he gasps, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Soooooo fucking good."
I thrust up into him, meeting his movements with powerful strokes. The intensity of the connection between us is overwhelming, and I know I won’t last much longer.
"Come for me," I urge him, my voice rough with need. "Come on, boy."
With a cry, Ali's body tenses, and he spills his load over my chest. The sight and feel of him coming is enough to push me over the edge, and I climax inside him, filling him with everything I’ve got.
We collapse together on the couch, breathing hard and spent. Ali rests his head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
"That was amazing," he says after a moment, his voice soft and content.
"Yeah, it was," I agree, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You were incredible."
He looks up at me with a smile. "So, when can we do this again?"
"Anytime you want," I reply, feeling a rush of happiness. "Anytime you want."
To be continued…
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Lloyd + 61. “did you really think that would work? cute”
cooped up on a nice spring day
pairing: husband!lloyd hansen x female reader
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, choking, light bdsm, bratting, begging, teasing, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, referenced oral sex (f receiving), pet names (it's lloyd so there's a bunch), established relationship, fluff
word count: 1,800ish
a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt Eva!!! and it's so perfect for Lloyd!! i had a lot of fun writing this one—it has probably the brattiest reader i've written so far, so i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡
The view outside your husband’s office was beautiful in the spring—in fact, the garden was one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with the house and why Lloyd Hansen had bought it for you. There were so many flowering trees and so much flourishing greenery that you felt like you could stare at it all for hours while Lloyd worked.
And, in fact, that’s exactly what you’d been doing on that particular spring day. Lloyd had even opened the window so you could feel the warm spring breeze against your cheeks and smell the sweet perfume of the lilacs and honeysuckle from the garden. It was a beautiful day and you hoped Lloyd would finish working soon so you could go outside and enjoy the sunshine together.
It had been your intention when you’d strolled into Lloyd’s office in one of your pretty sundresses to entice your husband to go for a walk in the garden with you. You’d had designs about packing a picnic and spreading out a blanket beneath one of the leafy trees to spend the afternoon together. But Lloyd had insisted he couldn’t be pulled away from work—though that hadn’t stopped him from pulling you into his lap.
One thing had led to another and your plan to coax him out of his office had been foiled when he’d talked you into straddling his lap and keeping his cock warm while he worked. With the window open, it had seemed like the perfect compromise. After all, you loved being connected to your husband in such an intimate way, and with you able to stare out the window behind his desk, you’d been content.
For a while.
But your hips ached a little from sitting in the same position for so long, and your body was growing restless from having Lloyd’s perfect cock buried inside you for so many hours without anything in the way of satisfaction. But every time you moved your hips even a little bit, even to readjust yourself, Lloyd’s hand would press firmly against your lower back and he’d urge you to keep still.
You tried to be good, you really did, but the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon and you could feel the beautiful spring day slipping through your fingers, along with all your plans to enjoy it with your husband. A whine worked its way up your throat and you couldn’t bear to bite it back.
“Lloyd, please, can’t we go outside for a little while,” you begged, your arms circling around his shoulders and squeezing him tight while you tried, and failed, to keep your hips from rocking in lazy circles. “You can work later.” Your last word came out on a whimper as you felt the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls, a shiver racing down your spine.
“Just a little while longer, pet,” Lloyd rumbled distractedly, pressing his hand against your lower back and urging you to still your rolling hips. “You can be a good girl for your husband, can’t you?” He offered you a sly smile as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.
Huffing an impatient sigh, you let him stop your movements, muttering, “That’s what you said an hour ago.” If you sounded petulant, that’s because you were. You didn’t even try to hide your mood from your husband, who seemed content with ignoring his wife’s needs.
As if Lloyd could read your mind, he gripped the back of your neck and towed you away from where you’d been draped against his chest so he could look you straight in the eye. “If you give me a few more minutes of peace and quiet, I promise we’ll spend the rest of the afternoon outside,” he said, his tone patient.
But you discovered in that moment that you were all out of patience of your own. You shot Lloyd a glare before you ducked forward and nipped his ear sharply with your teeth, using your cunt to squeeze his cock as hard as your inner muscles could, wringing a grunt from your husband.
“I want to go outside now,” you hissed in his ear, knowing exactly what you were doing and knowing it was going to get a rise out of Lloyd. But that was exactly what you wanted.
Lloyd’s hand slipped easily from the back of your neck to the wrap around the front, his thumb and middle finger digging into your throat just beneath the cut of your jaw. He pushed you back enough so you could feel the full weight of his glower, but you only scowled at him harder.
“Did you really think that would work?” he asked, tilting his head to the side while he looked down at you. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel worried about the dangerous thread in his tone, not when your husband’s attention was finally fully on you. “Cute.”
Then Lloyd was pushing you up by his grip on your throat, rising to stand with a dark look on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. You whimpered when you lifted off his cock, your body feeling unimaginably empty without him inside you, but your husband only snarled at your pitiful sound.
“You wanna go outside? We’ll go outside,” Lloyd muttered, spinning you around and bending you over the sill of the window behind his desk. It didn’t have a screen so your upper body hung out the back of the house, only your husband’s hand holding you around your throat preventing you from tumbling out into the garden. “How’s this, princess, is this outside enough for you?” Lloyd growled in your ear, curling his body over yours and pinning you to the sill.
But it wasn’t enough for you, not when your cunt was leaking with arousal and your inner walls were fluttering pathetically around nothing. “Need you inside me, husband,” you gasped out, squirming your hips beneath Lloyd’s bigger frame, like you could somehow find the tip of him and force him to drive his full length home.
“First you demand I take you outside, then you demand I be inside you,” Lloyd rumbled, his tone mean in that way that made your whole body clench and pleasure to flood your mind. “You’re needy today aren’t you, cupcake?” he asked mockingly, his free hand reaching between your bodies to grip his dick and slide the head through your soaking folds.
You went weak and pliant beneath Lloyd when you were so close to getting what you wanted, your lips forming the first desperate words you could manage. “Yes, yes, so needy for your cock, husband, please give it to me, please, I need you to fuck me, oh god, Lloyd, please!”
With one furious thrust, Lloyd buried the full length of his cock deep in your cunt, the tip ramming against the end of you so hard that you shrieked in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Lloyd’s hand tightened around your throat, choking off the loudest of your sounds of pleasure while he curled over your body, his chest pressing to your back, his cock grinding deep in your cunt in a way that made your toes curl.
“Good girl, angel, sound so sweet begging for your husband’s dick,” Lloyd rumbled, his free hand gripping your hip tightly while he pounded into you with short, deep thrusts, his thighs clapping against the backs of yours. “You didn’t need to be such a brat to get me to fuck you, just needed to beg for me.”
You were too far gone with pleasure to respond, but it occurred to you that Lloyd fucking you through the open window of his office was much better than the lazy picnic sex you’d envisioned for the afternoon. Glancing through the garden, you knew if anyone was around, they’d see the obscene tableau you painted, your husband fucking you over the windowsill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when the brutal thrusting of Lloyd’s cock felt so exquisite, your cunt clenching down on him as your pleasure grew.
“Fuck, fuck, buttercup, your cunt feels too good, you’re gonna make me come,” Lloyd groaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder while his hand slipped between your thighs, finding your wet, slippery clit. “Come on your husband’s cock, wife, show me what a good girl you can be with my dick buried deep in this pussy.”
Your orgasm hit you with the suddenness of a champagne cork popping, leaving you awash in wave after wave of dazzling pleasure. A scream tore free from your throat before your husband cut it off with his choking grip. Your body tightened beneath Lloyd, your cunt gripping his cock so hard, it set off his own release. He rutted into you, muttering about your perfect cunt and how you were so good for coming on his cock.
Together, you rode out your releases together, your bodies writhing against the windowsill until you were both finally sated.
Carefully, Lloyd helped you back inside, and he collapsed into his office chair, his arm banded around your waist pulling you down into his lap and keeping you connected. You leaned heavily back against his chest, your body feeling boneless from pleasure, a satisfied smile curling your lips.
Lloyd pressed a kiss to your cheek, the bristles of his mustache tickling your skin gently and making you giggle softly.
“Will you be a good girl and let me finish my work now?” he asked in a low, delicious rumble.
You stretched out your arms and legs, your spine curving and pushing your chest out so Lloyd could see the way your nipples poked against the thin cotton of your sundress. Grinning like the cat that got the cream, you relaxed back into Lloyd’s lap, humming in contentment.
“I think I can manage for a little while, husband,” you purred, but you tilted your head and caught his eye. “But only for a little while.” There was a warning in your tone that made Lloyd chuckle.
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you cooped up on such a nice spring day, wife,” Lloyd murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “At least, not for much longer.”
True to his word, Lloyd finished his work soon after and, together, the two of you went out into the gardens for a late lunch. You ate the food you’d prepared for the picnic you’d planned, and then Lloyd settled between your thighs to devour you for dessert.
You laid back on your picnic blanket beneath a shady tree in the garden of your home and let your husband worship your body. After all, it was what you deserved for being such a good wife, and his good girl, while he’d kept you cooped up for so much of the nice spring day.
#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen x you#chris evans#chris evans characters#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#witchywithwhiskeywork#biteofcherry
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website questions
Vanessa:
In the past you said that Dru would have a group of friends, but you didn't want to say much because you were far from TWP, now that you've started writing, have you thought about this group (if it was maintained) could you talk a little about it, if there will be Any notable characters? and do Ty and Kit have a group of friends or colleagues? Even if they are not important in the narrative of the story, could they have appeared or been commented on in some chapter, a chapter about Ty in Scholomance and Kit in Devon?
Hi Vanessa! I totally get that you want to know everything about what happens with Kit and Ty and Dru in TWP. All I can say is that in the current draft of LKOF, neither Ty nor Dru nor Kit spends much time at school or home at all. We may meet some people they know at school, and hear about their lives before the beginning of the events of TWP. We do see other students at the Academy with Dru, and we know about Anush and Thais and even Kit's maybe-a-werewolf ex, and may hear about some of the other people Kit and Ty have encountered in the passing years, but they are not important in LKOF. Like you said, aside from Anush and Thais, they may get commented on but that's about it.
Marina: I know TLKoF is a long way off, but just out of curiosity, will Kit and Ty's romantic advance be worked on from the beginning? we might have their first kiss on TLKoF.
We might. You never know. I will say both of them know these are romantic feelings they have, not confused friendship feelings or something, and that yes, this is a romance pretty much from the beginning. For any of you that have read romances, which I'm going to guess is 100%, we all know that takes many different shapes. :)
Josué: Hey, Cassie! I'd like to know if Mina will have some kind of power like James and Lucie. She has Tessa's blood after all. And we know that Mina is too young in TWP, but there is a short chance that one day we meet her power? Thank you for your time! I love your books.
You never know! She is still quite small in TWP. Also, there is the question of the fact that Belial no longer exists and when he disappeared, Lucie and James power went with him. Now, Tessa still has some of her power so whether she passes anything along to Mina at all is to be seen.
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coming up lavender, part two
cassian x reader x azriel
part one
author’s note: thank you guys for the love on part one <3 i’m very excited about this series!! comment or message me to be added to the taglist!!
summary: the high lord of the night court and his inner circle have taken reader from her home—the only one she’s ever known. what awaits her now? what interest could they have in her?
warnings: angst!! emetophobia warning at the beginning--it's brief!! ptsd, reader recounts her traumatic childhood. misogyny, and other canon-typical themes. this is an 18+ series.
Hands collide roughly with wooden flooring; grit your teeth as you rise to your feet. A poorly-stifled chuckle has you whirling around, glaring at the assailant: Cassian.
"Welcome to the House of Wind."
The Illyrian grins, despite the ire in your expression. "You'll get more used to it over time--winnowing, that is."
You hunch over, finally hurling the contents of your stomach. At least it didn't happen in the great hall.
"Eventually, that won't happen, either," Rhysand adds from beside Cassian as he plucks seemingly invisible dirt from his tailored suit. Where the rest of his inner circle had gone, you couldn't be sure.
You dry heave a few times before standing straight once again, and ball your hands into fists at your sides to mask their shaking. "What do you want?"
Rhysand waves his hand, disentegrating the mess you left on the floor, then studies you for a moment, face unreadable. "For now?Nothing. Nuala and Cerridwen will show you to your room. We'll start training in the next few days. Once you're settled in."
Instinctually tense as a hand grabs your arm from behind you. "Don't touch me," you hiss, only to immediately relent and flush with embarassment as you meet the eyes of the two females Rhysand mentioned. "I'm sorry."
"Nonsense. We should've said something before touching you," the taller of the two murmurs, an all-too-familiar pity lacing her words. "I'm Nuala," she points to the shorter female beside her, "My sister, Cerridwen."
You give the sisters a tight-lipped smile, and follow them out of the main room. And try to ignore the way shame weighs on your chest as you feel the males' eyes boring into your back--surely noting your reaction.
~~~
To your relief, no one bothered you the first two days, besides Nuala and Cerridwen to ensure you were eating and drinking.
Until now, with Morrigan at your door. You recognized her from court, though the two of you were much younger. Before your power grew, and you were shut out from the world.
"Are you adjusting well?"
Take a step back as she enters your room, cross your arms over your chest as a defense. "Hard to adjust when I have no idea where I am, or what I'm here for. I barely know who any of you are. Who you are, even."
"You can call me Mor, for starters," she says, trying for a smile. "I'd rather let Rhys explain exactly why you're here. But know that you're safe. You're free."
Your brows furrow, words caught in your throat as you consider the weight of Mor's words. Free. Free. Free.
Slowly, Mor takes your hands in hers. Squeezes gently. Understanding in her eyes. She's been here before.
"Would you like to see the library?"
Eyes light up. You nod; blink back tears. "Yes, I would."
~~~
After mere minutes in the library, you decided you would be content to spend the rest of your life there. You likely could spend the rest of your life there, with countless books still left unread.
Mor gets distracted by a couple of the priestesses, leaving you to your own devices. Fingers trace the dusty spines of books far older than you, far older than the space they reside in.
Heavy footsteps sound behind you, and you turn, to once again be met with Cassian. Hair tied back in a knot, sky-blue shirt with a few buttons undone, showing off a chiseled chest--
You silently curse yourself, thanking the Mother he can't read thoughts. Can he?
Clear your throat, arms once again wrapping around yourself. Wrack your brain for something casual to say.
"There are a lot of books here."
State the painfully obvious. Way to go, genius.
A smile from Cassian that sends your heart aflutter. "Not used to seeing so many books, I take it?"
Hold his gaze, fingertips digging into your arms out of habit. "We--my father had a library in our estate, but it's much smaller. I wasn't permitted to enter very often."
Cassian stares. "Oh..."
Realization dawns on you, and you bark a laugh. "I can read. It was one of the few things I could do, back...home." You falter on the last word, tasting bitterness on your tongue. "It's simply discouraged for women in the Hewn City. Deemed 'uneccessary.'"
He shakes his head, and somehow, you can feel his disgust, his rage.
Shrug off the feeling, try to muster a smile. "Well, if the House of Wind is this beautiful, I can only imagine what the city is like."
Cassian smiles. "Velaris is beautiful. I'd love to show you around, eventually. There's this restaurant by the Sidra that--"
"Eventually...?"
He nods. "We have to make sure your powers aren't volatile--"
"Volatile? I've spent decades shielding my power from other people. What makes you think--"
"We don't know what to think, y/n. We don't know you. We haven't seen your powers, beyond what little you showed the day we rescued--"
A bitter laugh. "Rescued. Does wording it that way make you feel better?"
Cassian's expression hardens. "What else would you call it?"
Bite your tongue, ignore the way your power stirs underneath your skin. "Am I free to leave the House?"
Cassian sighs, face quickly changing to one of pity. "You have to-"
"Stop looking at me like that. Am I free to leave the House? To explore the city?"
A long breath. "No. But you can explore the entire House. I can fly you around--"
Arms tighten around yourself as you scoff. "Then I suppose I've simply traded one prison for another."
Turn on your heel, ignore the way your chest oddly aches with each step you take. "I'm going back to my room."
Mor appears from behind one of the shelves as your start climbing the stairs. "Do you need help getting back?"
"I can find it myself. Unless I need an escort, too?"
The pair look away; picture of shame.
You don't spare another glance to either of them as you leave.
~~~
The corridor to your room feels tighter than usual, windows smaller. Loose another shaky breath to leash the panic threatening to spill over.
At least you weren't in your father's grasp. That had to be something. But what did you trade it for?
Racing thoughts cease as you spot shadows swirling at the end of the hall. They recoil suddenly as you gaze at them--as if shocked they were caught.
"If you have something to say, Shadowsinger, best to ask me to my face."
Nails bury in your palms as you wait for a response, heart thumping behind your ribcage.
Shadows dissipate as a figure walks through. Not quite as tall as Cassian, but he still towers over you. Visibly marred hands tucked into his pockets, wearing a gray sweater that looks so comfortable you consider stealing it from him.
"You're observant," Azriel says, lips turned up ever-so-slightly.
Roll your eyes, fight off a smile. "For someone of your position--the renowned Azriel Shadowsinger, one would think your shadows would be better hidden."
Smile widens, revealing pretty white teeth. "They were hidden. I've never seen anyone notice them so easily." As he speaks, confusion paints his face for only a second before disappearing. "Are you okay?"
His eyes dart to where your hands still remain in fists. He can likely hear your heartbeat, smell your panic.
Stiffen, rub your hands along your sides. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."
He seems inclined to question further, but thinks better of it. "Alright."
Pick at your nails, glance down the hall. "I hate to be rude, but I was trying to go--"
"To your room."
"--to my room."
You laugh as the two of you speak in unison. "Yes. My room." You offer another smile, begin to walk past.
"What's your name?" Azriel questioned.
You turn, arch a brow. "There's no way you don't know my name. Rhys, or someone had to tell you."
A shrug. "I forgot. Remind me."
Liar. You smile.
"Y/n."
"Y/n," Azriel repeats. You try to bury the way your cheeks warm, hearing your name on his tongue. "Have a good evening, y/n."
You nod, and hurry off to your room. It isn't until your door is shut that you realize your smile hasn't left your face.
taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @marina468 @cherry-cin @sevikas-whore @tequilya @nickishadow139 @thatacotargirl
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#azriel x reader angst#azriel x cassian x reader#cassian fluff#cassian#cassian angst#acotar angst#cazriel x reader#azriel angst#coming up lavender
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HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL
one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader
cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread
nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡
m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click
"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35
Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.
The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.
Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.
Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.
The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.
With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.
Monday morning…
Subway girl.
Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.
You were hopeless
Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.
"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.
"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.
‘Uhm, yes?”
"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.
“Jesse!”
"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.
“Ew special”
"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.
What in the world was an ew special?
—
An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.
The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.
Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.
It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?
—
The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.
Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.
It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.
And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.
Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.
You couldn't believe your luck.
Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.
"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.
“Subway girl.”
Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”
Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”
Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.
Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.
"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.
"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.
"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”
Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”
It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”
"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”
She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.
"You know it?”
She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.
"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”
You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”
"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”
"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.
"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”
The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”
"No way! Really?"
"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.
"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”
“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”
You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.
‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”
It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”
“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”
A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”
You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”
You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”
“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.
Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”
Shit. It was your stop.
You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.
“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”
Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.
Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”
“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.
Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.
“What's your name?” she asks.
You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”
Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.
“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”
“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”
Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.
There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.
“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.
TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug
#HEY THERE SUBW4Y GIRL ᝰ.ᐟ#one last stop au!#subway girl!ellie ☆#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#the last of us#ellie x reader#ellie williams au#ellie williams tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie x you#ellie williams fluff#tlou fanfic
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A Favour (Part 4)
Part 3
MAJOR SMUT ALERT
Summary: When secrets are revealed during girl’s night, Y/N takes action.
~
“Wow, talk about impulsive.”
Wanda wiggled further into her floor poof, noting to herself that she was definitely gifted Y/N new ones for Christmas.
“I know,” she filled up their glasses again. “I guess I dodged a bullet there. Still doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Tucking the wine bottle on the nightstand before flopping to the floor, Y/N sighed.
The abandoned date was a week behind her, but she still couldn’t shake her frustration.
“He’s always hitting on me. And now Jane wants to give things another go and I’m discarded like a consolation prize.”
Wanda awed, “Oh love, don’t think of yourself that way.”
Her hand reached for Y/N’s arm, her thumb running over it softly.
“Men have a way about them, I’ll never understand it but it’s like—they constantly chase after the one that got away. It’s to no fault of your own, he’s just stupid.”
Y/N sipped her wine, smiling at Wanda.
“Thanks babe. Honestly, at the end of the day they have history. They’re well suited for each other. Hell they probably have better chemistry than Thor and I would have—”
“Oh I’m sure that’s not a factor. That man could have chemistry with anyone.”
Y/N wracked with laughter, Wanda was pretty reserved about her attractions. It was shocking when they came out.
“For sure. Big and bulky, thousands of years of experience…”
Wanda hummed, “Experience. Now that’s the kind of man you need Y/N. Someone who knows his way around a woman.”
Wanda flipped abruptly, sliding drunkenly to lay across from Y/N.
“Wanna know a secret?”
Y/N looked at Wanda’s glass, seeing it was almost empty.
Note to self, we’re slowing down after this one
“Of course,” Y/N mock-whispered.
Wanda giggled, “The best fucks are the older guys.”
Y/N gasped and smacked Wanda’s arm as she howled.
“Wanda! You’re naughty.”
“I am, I am. But it’s true. Younger men are selfish, rushing to the main event… the older ones take their time.”
She sat up, consumed by her reminiscence.
“They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you. Two words for you Y/N: body worship. It is the best thing since sliced bread. And I’m making sandwiches.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know!” Wanda said, “But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
She threw back the rest of her glass and huffed.
“God, now I’m horny.”
Y/N scoffed, “You’re telling me. With all my potential suitors lined up, I’ve been on edge.”
Evident, considering her blatant proposition to Barnes.
She grew red at the thought, how could she do that? Just throw herself at him?
At least things weren’t awkward between them, he was even going to go as far to give her advice about Thor…
Now looking back on it, it did seem rather odd coming from him. She propositions him for sex, and then comes to give her bedrooms tips? Perhaps he had just been trying to compensate for that day before.
Whatever, she thought, she should just put it out of her head.
“Bucky!” Wanda exclaimed.
Y/N jolted, had she read her mind?
“What?”
Wanda shook her finger at her, “that’s the one you should go for. Christ, have you seen his arms?”
Y/N raised her brows and hummed, “Oh yes, yes I have. Beef cake to a T.”
“And that stubble, lord forgive me.”
Y/N pictured how it would feel scraping her neck, the inside of her thighs…
“But that ship has sailed. It didn’t even dock Wanda.”
Wanda halted as she reached for the wine bottle.
“Explain.”
“Well,” she bobbed her head as she thought, “I kinda already asked him.”
Wanda gasped.
“And he said no.”
Wanda then slammed her hand down. “Bad friend! How could you not tell me?”
Wanda grabbed her hand and shook it, “We could have made a game plan. He could’ve been putty in your hands!”
“I tried!” Y/N defended, “I thought it would be a good idea but it didn’t—I don’t know, pan out.”
Wanda groaned, “Where is Nat? She’ll talk some sense in to you.”
How could it have not panned out, Wanda thought. She knew of the affections he harbored for Y/N, him passing up his opportunity was beyond comprehension.
As if on cue, Nat barged through Y/N’s door. Stumbling with her bottle of tequila and go bag in hand, not even undressed from her late night mission.
“Okay!” She yelled, “I ran off the jet so I wouldn’t miss anything. I’ll do shots to catch up while you spill.”
She directed this to Y/N, who remained utterly confused.
“Spill what?”
Nat rolled her eyes as she unscrewed her bottle.
“Don’t be coy, it’s been a whole week since I talked with Barnes so I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m not in the loop.”
She mouthed the bottle and winced as the first shot went down. Wanda reached out with a grabby hand, and Nat complied.
“How was he? Tell us everything.” She demanded.
Wanda and Y/N shared a look of confusion, had Nat finally gone delusional after too many hits to the head?
“Nat, I’m serious. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her face was read over by the super-spy, and she watched as Nat’s face contorted into annoyance. Her hand darted to grab the bottle back from Wanda.
“Wait. You’re telling me he didn’t make a move?”
Y/N sat up slowly, “No…”
As she drew it out, Nat knew then that Barnes has chickened out.
“Oh that goddamn idiot.”
“Nat what are you talking about?”
She huffed. She knew Bucky would do this. She didn’t know why, but he always found some excuse as to why he shouldn’t follow through. Bucky had to be pushed, and what better way than to tell Y/N herself.
“He charged to your room last week after training, determined to fuck the shit out of you.”
Wanda’s cough sent white wine all over the floor, Nat patted her back as Y/N took this in.
“You’re joking.” Y/N stated.
“No! He told me you asked him to, I told him he was an idiot, and then he went to your room. At least I assume he did—”
“—he did!” Y/N said.
The two women looked at her in shock.
“And he did nothing?” Wanda asked.
Y/N fumbled over her words, “Well—he came in. Yeah, he came in. Then he saw me upset and then we just hung out but he—we, we just—he was gonna fuck me?”
“He wanted to! Like bull in China shop charging out of the room, wanted to fuck you.”
“I can’t believe this.” Y/N decided to take the rest of the wine bottle for herself, slopping it down in the chaos of this news.
“The fuck do I do now?”
Nat gently placed a hand on her knee, face sweet and genuine.
“You mount him, sweetie.”
Wanda nodded eagerly, filling her wine glass with tequila.
“Body worship.” She enunciated.
Nat side eyed her, “What?”
Wanda waved her hand at her, “I’ll explain later.”
As Y/N sat silent, the two stared at her. Eyes dead ahead, Y/N still couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea.
“So?” Nat asked, “Are you going?”
Y/N was shocked, “What, like now?”
Nat threw her head back as she swiped the tequila back from Wanda.
Wow, she thought, they’re both idiots I guess.
“Yes NOW. We just got back from the same mission, he’s in his room as we speak.”
“That doesn’t mean I should go now! I should talk to him, I—I don’t get why he’d change his mind after I asked him—”
“No.” Nat demanded. She stood up, grabbing Y/N and rising with her.
“You two talk way too much. Every time you two come out on the opposite page you started. Or—opposite end of the book. Whatever, you’re not on the same page!”
Nat dragged her to the door, and whipped it open.
“You want to fuck Barnes. He wants to fuck you. When you two start talking that suddenly goes out the window. No more chit-chat. You, are going to get laid tonight. And it’s gonna be by 6 feet, 250 pounds of fine-aged muscle. And you are not coming back here until you do!”
She tossed Y/N out the door, leaving her in stunned silence in the hallway.
~
Bucky stripped himself of his gear, his shoulders and neck aching from the grip of his harness.
God, it felt good to get that off. It felt good to be home.
What he desperately wanted was a rub down, a deep tissue massage courtesy of Stark Therapeutics. But it was far too late for that, he’d have to go tomorrow.
His mind began to wander in his exhaustion, forming a picture of delicate hands working his muscles.
Eventually, the image of Y/N’s wandering hands came into his fantasy. Pulling, yearning for his sensitive skin…
His palms ran up his face into his hair. Now he needed a cold shower.
He should’ve just done it.
He must have been a masochist, torturing and teasing himself with his own chances, graphic and vulgar images just taunting him.
You could have had this, she could have been yours.
He was mad at himself. Now, with their pathetic back-and-forth he would never have a chance like that again.
And then when she finally got back in the game she’d meet someone that rocked her world, then they’d get married and have beautiful mini Y/N babies because of all the rocking sex they’d have.
Alright, now he was being dramatic.
He needed to cool off, breathe, sleep it off and then reset.
He could do without one night of mental torture.
The ice cold water was uninviting, but much needed.
Though it was waking up his exhausted body, his mind was slowly letting go of Y/N.
Y/N, Y/N, Y/N….
He was trying his best, he really was. Especially after last week.
He made the choice to be supportive and passive about her sex life, things were feeling normal between them.
A knock came on his door. Turning off the water, he called out.
“Yeah?”
He waited a moment, but when receiving no answer, he went back to his shower.
He jumped out of his skin when the bathroom door whipped open.
Ponytail swinging, eyes hard, she darted to the shower.
“Y/N? What the hell!”
He didn’t attempt to cover himself, too shocked to move.
What the actual hell.
She pulled back the glass door, pausing as she took him in.
Every inch of him was just… goddamn insane.
Perfect arms, perfect abs, perfect v.
Looking down, she sighed.
“God, that’s gonna hurt.”
Bucky’s eyes went wide.
“Excuse me?”
She met his eyes. She looked wild; her pupils blown, panting, the water beginning to dampen her thin clothes.
Part of her hesitated, this was bold. This was a lot coming from her. The last few weeks were filled with waiting and waiting for the right proposal. She had tech geniuses, army vets, marine corps, doctors from all over the building shooting their shot, and none of them caught her attention.
But he however, was the only one she had sought after.
Thor had been tempting, but looking at Barnes in his soaked glory, she knew that the God could never compare. This was a man.
Bucky’s back hit the tiled wall, Y/N’s body being soaked by the shower stream.
His hands stay at his sides, unable to move.
This had to be a dream.
“I want you.”
Bucky’s mouth went dry at her declaration, lip dropping in slight awe.
“Do you want me?” She asked.
Their chests heaved in unison, the frozen water suddenly felt like a thousand degrees.
He stared at her. Her hands on his shoulders, that dangerous look in her eye…
“God yes.” He uttered.
It was so fast.
Her body pressed into him, soft lips covering his.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hands flew to her waist.
He turned them, hoisting her up against the wall. Her legs locked around his back as he ground his cock into her clothed pussy.
He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands nearly ripping her waistband.
He pulled back, resting his head against her forehead as he breathed out.
His body was on fire.
“Tell me you’re sure.”
She went to kiss him again and he ducked his chin.
“Y/N, tell me you’re sure.”
She rested her head back against the cold, wet tile. She felt the heat pooling in her body, her hands hot as they gripped into his shoulders.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I need you to fuck me Bucky.”
That was all he needed.
Shower abandoned, he rushed to the bed with her.
He raked his hands along her body, he needed to feel every inch of her. He needed her to feel how desperately he wanted this.
Goosebumps littered her flesh, his metal hand doing nothing to satiate.
She wrestled to get herself unclothed, eager for his skin against hers.
He pushed her hands away.
“Let me,” he urged, “Let me touch you.”
She complied, lifting her arms above her head as he undressed her. Strong hands delicate but sure, confidently removing every piece that was in his way.
She was perfect.
He took in all her beauty; collarbones exposed, breast perked under his touch, the soft and supple feel of her skin, those hips, those legs, that perfect pussy…
He began his descent, kissing every inch as he urged to her to lay back.
Her eyes never left him, watching as her ravished her torso with his lips.
Body worship echoed in her mind.
His hands wander upwards, grazing her sensitive thighs.
“Bucky, please.”
She loved it, she did. It felt so good to be cherished like this, his fingers kneading into every spot he could grab. But she wanted him, she needed to feel him.
“Baby,” he whispered, stubble scraping her inner thighs, “I gotta take my time with you.”
She moaned as he gently bit the inside of her thigh, lifting her legs over his shoulders.
He groaned at the sound, reminding himself to slow down.
God, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to leave her breathless, whining, desperate to cum beneath him.
But he couldn’t now. Next time.
He met her eyes as his tongue licked her folds.
Her head rolled back as he drew another moan from her.
He listened to her body, the sounds she made as her delved further in to her pussy.
Show me what you like baby, give it all to me.
His lips circled around her clit, tongue working hard and fast.
He’d be damned if he didn’t make her cum before he was inside her.
He planned to ruin her for anyone else, he wanted her pleasure so overwhelming that she’d never forget why she waited. She needed to know what real sex felt like.
“Fuck, Bucky.”
Her thighs clenched around his head, losing herself. She tried to loosen them as he continued his assault, but his hands locked them into place.
Squeeze me love, don’t hesitate. I want it all.
She cried out as he worked harshly with his tongue, she knew she was about to come.
“Don’t stop, Bucky please don’t stop.”
Her back arched against the mattress, and he held her down with his flesh arm. He wanted his face in it when she came, tasting all she had to give.
He hummed against her, passionately continuing as she rode out her climax. He felt it drip down his face, chin slick with her wetness.
He was tempted to go again, really make her writhe from his tongue, have her screaming his name so loud that the rest of the compound would be pounding on his door.
He wanted to give her more; and more.
But he’d wait. Not now.
Now he needed to be inside her, have her tight and wet pussy grip him as he rutted into her.
He had to know how good she felt.
He wiped his chin before climbing on the bed, hovering over her.
She was speechless, eyes glassy as slipped himself between her legs.
“I’m gonna fuck you nice, and slow. You're gonna tell me what you need baby."
In awe, she lifted her hips to his. She didn't care if it hurt, the pleasure would come. She knew he'd make sure of that.
He grazed her entrance with his head, gently teasing.
"Tell me you want me."
She whimpered, mind reflecting on Wanda's statement earlier.
They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you…
He was relishing in her pleasure as much as she was.
“I want you Bucky, please. I want you to fuck me.”
She bucked her hips up to his, and he pressed her further into the mattress.
He hushed her, “Easy baby, I’m not going anywhere.”
His head ducked beneath her ear, softly sucking at the skin.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, his body warm against hers.
“Ready?”
She nodded into his shoulder.
Grabbing her chin, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Staring into her eyes, he watched her face as he eased himself in.
God, he was huge.
Slowly, he let his cock fill her up. His hips stuttered at her tightness, she was so warm… so wet…
He kissed her neck as she sighed, hands sliding under her hips to hold her against him.
Her arms wrapped around his back, legs locking behind his so she could take all of him.
She wanted him to move, she needed him to move.
“Please Bucky, I’m ready.”
He nodded into her shoulder, steeling himself to not cum right then and there.
She felt so good, he’d wanted this for so long. And now she was begging him for more, perfect body wrapped around him.
His wildest dreams never could have imagined this.
His thrusts were gentle, purposeful.
He wanted her to take every inch, he wanted her a mess beneath him.
He gave it to her nice, and slow. Just as he promised.
She moaned softly as his rutting picked up pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.
He groaned, “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good baby.”
Her breath hitched at his words, and Bucky’s sly smile grew against her skin.
Her heartbeat pulsed into his cheek, and he nipped at the skin of her neck.
“Yeah? You like that baby? Tell me.”
“Yes,” she breathed out, “You feel so good.”
He moaned into her neck, strokes rolling wave after wave of pleasure to her core.
“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl.”
She was soaking his cock, becoming tighter and tighter.
“You fuck me so good Bucky, fuck I—”
She couldn’t hold back her cry, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside of her.
He was worried he’d hurt her, but as her place contorted in pleasure he continued his pounding.
He hesitated in speaking, feeling selfish. Then couldn’t stop himself as she cried out his name.
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours.”
She said it without thinking, brain foggy and filled with thoughts of only him.
He could let the sound of that replay for eternity.
“That’s a good girl. Fuck you feel so good.”
He lifted her legs over his shoulders, pushing himself deeper inside her.
He slowed himself as she whined, trying to remember that he couldn’t ruin her yet.
It needed to be slow, this had to be all about her…
No matter how desperately he wanted her cumming from overstimulation, fingertips gripping the bedsheets, crying out his name and only his.
“Bucky…”
It was the only thing she knew to say, her mind devoting her words to only him.
He was getting close, but he couldn’t let himself finish.
Fucking her slow, he slipped his hand over her clit. Making gentle and soft circles, drawing her last orgasm out of her.
He bit into her calf as she came, urging himself not to cum as she did. She coated his thighs, and he moved faster.
His thumb on her clit moved with the pace of his thrusts.
“C’mon baby, give me another one. Cum for me Y/N.”
She felt lightheaded as another orgasm came, washing over her body as she cried out his name again.
“That’s my girl. Fuck Y/N, you’re perfect.”
He groaned as he finished, collapsing on top of her.
Sweaty and hot, they laid against one another. Legs tangled, his hands still pressing her into him.
Their breathing slowed, he reached over to gently kiss her forehead.
“You okay?” He whispered.
She hummed, nodding into his chest.
He chuckled, “Tired?”
She nodded again, smiling into his skin.
He slowly kissed along the side of her face, shifting to cradle her in his arms.
He was coming down from his high, the room became clearer. He drifted his hand along her spine, in silent awe that everything had changed in an instant.
“You really came barging in here.”
She laughed, laying her head on his chest.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Jesus, don’t be. It was an answer to my prayers.”
She laughed again, sitting up and pulling at her ponytail.
She let in drape over her shoulders, softly staring at him with a small smile.
“Could’ve been sooner. Nat said you chickened out last week.”
He groaned, “Of course she told you. I’m sorry, okay? I just got scared.”
“You got scared? It was my first time.”
“I know, but… I wanted it to be your choice. You asked me to earlier and I didn’t think you wanted what I did. I needed you to enjoy it.”
She hummed, laying against him again. Her hands placed in the soft tuft of hair on his chest.
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Enjoy it.”
She cuddled into his side, “Of course I did. I know I made the right choice, Buck.”
He nodded, his worries silenced.
“And I know I’m gonna enjoy it next time.”
His brows shot up, “Next time?”
“Oh yeah,” she lifted herself to face him, “next time.”
She kissed his lips, “And the next.”
Another kiss, “And the next.”
They laughed together as she continued. Thank god she had waited all this time.
Bucky drifted to sleep with the thought of each “next”, excited for every single one.
~
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#marvel#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky#marvel fics#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader
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hey! Idk if u take requests but I love your writing style and have a request! Can you do a Spencer x fem reader where she doesn't work for the Bau but they have been together for like 7 months and she is girly and like loves fashion and is superrr pretty and the team doesn't know about her but they see Spencer out with her one day and can't believe he's with her/has a gf bc they're so different and they tease him about her bc he's just head over heels in love with her and they are so obsessed with each other and it's just so cute!!! Thank you in advance!!!!🤍🤍
yes, i do take requests! thank you for the kind words, and i hope you enjoy this one <3
picture perfect.
you work shifts at a local coffee shop where a man frequents every friday evening. at first glance, the two of you are polar opposites; while you are covered in flowery pastel colors head to toe, he dresses strictly in professional attire. when love eventually blossoms between you and the doctor, he makes every effort to be with you – even when teased by his coworkers.
pairing :: spencer x fem!reader
warnings :: none? some suggestive overtone.
word count :: 2.3k
author’s note :: this is probably the fluffiest text i’ve written by far, i swear i’m biting straight into cotton candy. fingers crossed that i’ve portrayed the story well…
accompanying song :: the perfect pair by beabadoobee
he doesn’t know how to deal with these unfamiliar feelings, especially when they’re eating away at his thoughts at work. his usual ability to read at 20,000 words per minute seems to be reduced to half its pace for almost seven days now, one of his worst nightmares in full action. he doesn’t know what to think when your bubbly face lights up in his head – when your pretty features accentuated by the glowy highlights around your eyes and the soft glassiness of your pink lips etch into his imagination. thoughts of you come to light like a switch in his head, and they pop up during the worst times, including a police chase on the highway, an interrogation with a female unsub that styled her hair similar to yours, and worst of all, whenever he tries to make coffee in the office. it’s almost a pavlovian response, the way he unconsciously gulps in tingling nervousness as he pours the sugar into his cup.
but he’s a man that thinks with his head, a man that doesn’t listen to his heart.
he’s a man that thinks with his head. when you hand over his usual, dark espresso with three sugar packets on the side, with the words cheer up, doctor reid! <3 scribbled with winged hearts all around the cup, he has to excuse himself and run to the bathroom. there, he spends ten minutes clenching his shirt, squeezing the fabric with sheer strength because you and your actions are irresistibly adorable. he can’t look in the mirror, because he sees you standing right next to him in the reflection, and it drives him crazy.
he’s a man that thinks with his head. when he enters the coffee shop on one friday afternoon with a cut near his left brow, you immediately stop what you’re doing and go over to his table before he can even settle down in his seat. you insist on covering the wound, and you pull out a pink flower-patterned bandaid from your apron pocket. he watches as your hands lightly tremble to remove the adhesive strips, and melts at how you brush his hair aside to press the bandaid lightly against his forehead. it only takes a whiff of your vanilla scent to lose all sense of time and his surroundings – he can only look up into your heavenly eyes, which blink slowly in the hazy lighting.
he’s a man that should think with his head. when he sees you wearing an outfit that isn’t your coffee shop apron for the first time, he stops dead in his tracks.
it was late that friday, and it was well past his usual time to enter the shop, but he could never let a full week pass without surrounding himself in your jolly aura.
as you prepare to close the blinds and flip the store sign, you see a familiar face press a hand to the other side of the front door. you immediately let him in, and he’s frantically apologizing for his tardiness.
“it’s completely fine! i’ll get your regular going in just a second!” your bubbly laugh fades as you head back to the counter, and for the first time, he soaks in the emptiness of the shop’s usually chatter-filled environment. there’s only one overhead light turned on, and the scent of lavender drifts with a candle’s airy smoke.
he’s fixated entirely on your outfit. you’re wearing a ruched top with pink laces and frills for straps, and paired with a pleated mini skirt with knee-length socks, you’re a beautiful sight to behold. when you catch him looking, you strike a small pose, one hand on your hip and an empty coffee cup on the other. you then burst into your soft giggles.
he can’t. he absolutely can’t.
his eyes are glued down to where his hands are clasped on the table. when you ask him if he’s had a rough day, he answers with a simple two-word response, sort of. you don’t question him further, and he’s thankful you don’t.
if he believes in anything other than science, it’s aphrodite and her blessings to bestow your pluperfect presence before him. it’s as if cupid shot an arrow directly into his heart, or if a mage cast an irrevocable spell on him. he doesn’t want to imagine a life without you.
and every night since then, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. he wonders if he could somehow ask garcia to search you up, but he knows he shouldn’t exploit his position to take his chances with you. at least his head doesn’t want to.
his heart tells him to take a chance.
he decides to take the leap of faith.
he knows your favorite flower, clothing brand, and lip tint like the back of his palm. he recites the answers every morning, a secret rehearsal he conducts as he straightens his tie in front of the mirror. he makes a purchase from your favorite flower shop a few blocks away from your store, and sucks in a deep breath before flicking his watch so it rolls up his wrist. he gently presses on the door handle.
you’re busy as usual, preparing cups and plating desserts for each customer. the line moves forward with a rhythmic pace, and you greet each customer, regulars and first-timers alike, with the same smile. your eyes enlarge when your favorite customer stands in front of the cash register, and the sight of his face instantly transmits a sigh of relief from your lips. you look down at his hand, where you notice he’s holding your favorite flowers that are wrapped tightly in pink gift paper.
“ah, didn’t know you liked those too!” you lower your head to examine the flowers in their full glory, and spencer even brings them up to your nose so you can smell the sweet scent.
“they’re for you, actually.” he speaks matter-of-factly, but there’s a hint of excited overtone.
“you got these… for me? i- thank you so much! you didn’t have to!” you hurriedly accept the bouquet as he extends his hand over the counter, and set the flowers down on a neighboring table. you scurry over to the cake display and plop a slice of cake on a small plate, before handing his usual drink with extra sugar on the side.
“all on the house!” your lips shape up into a beautiful crescent shape, and he finds himself fiddling his watch to resist looking you in the eye. he gives you a lopsided smile, and nervously grabs two forks from the counter before leaving you a ten dollar bill in your tip jar.
“i-if you’d like, you can come find me during your break. we can have the cake together… again, that’s only if you’d like,” his fingers jitter as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and before you can object, he’s making strides back to his seat.
when it’s break time, you find spencer in his usual corner, his cake left untouched.
“you shouldn’t have waited, really,” you grab a tall stool and set it so you’re sitting with your knees touching his. he looks up from his book, time and eternity by seiichi hatano.
“this is your favorite dessert, isn’t it?” he moves the plate towards you so you can take the first bite. when you do, staring right into his eyes as your tastebuds hit the fork, he instinctively licks his lips.
spencer tells you that he needs to get something off his chest.
“what is it?” you ask, and he points to your apron. loosen the knot behind your back, he tells you, and you do. you feel a note twisted in between the fabric, and you confusedly uncrumple the crinkled paper.
it reads, will you be my girlfriend?
the dot of the ‘i’ in girlfriend is drawn in with a shaded heart, and you bite your lip back as the cute aggression kicks in.
you don’t even hesitate. you have so many questions about how the paper’s even got there in the first place, but you couldn’t care to ask. you’re fervently nodding at him, leaning in and giving him a tight embrace. he hadn’t expected you to react so quickly, so he hesitates for a brief second before wrapping his arms around you.
present day, and he walks with you side-by-side, your hand enclosed in his. you’re humming a soft tune and he’s looking at you with a wide grin on his face. he’s so lucky to have you, an absolute dream come true. he’s grateful for how he gets to spend every night with you, a significant advancement from once every week at the coffee shop.
speaking of the coffee shop, it’s been seven months since the two of you sat together in the quaint corner of the café, and since then, he’s utterly fallen for you. his eyes follow your every move, and he listens as you ramble about your favorite dress on sale at the large shopping mall a few blocks from the apartment. while he makes mental notes of all of your favorite items, the reality is he’s finding it to be an incredible struggle trying to focus on your words. his focus hones in on your exposed neck with a laced choker wrapped around. it’s such a fragile piece of fabric, weighted with a heart-shaped locker with his initials. his initials.
he gulps. he wants to stick a finger between the fabric and your neck, and he wonders what it’s like to have you wrapped around his finger, so intimately linked.
just as his thoughts intensify, a voice breaks out from across the street.
“reid!”
you squeeze spencer’s arm as a group of well-dressed people approach the two of you, waving while their mouths hang open in surprise.
“there’s no way i’m seeing you on a shopping spree right now!” a woman with straight jet-black hair grins, her thumb hooked on her belt loop as she leans to one side. a woman with blonde hair and red glasses sporting a colorful spotted dress shortly joins the union alongside another man, who exudes a mysteriously charismatic air with his bold sunglasses.
they acknowledge your presence each with a handshake and introduce themselves.
“you never told me you were seeing someone,” morgan whistles, patting spencer on the shoulder.
spencer’s quiet during the entire exchange, and he mumbles quietly about how he’s busy helping you run errands.
“you guys moved in together yet?” the man continues to ask, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he smirks. you nod and gleefully say yes, to which spencer lets out a squeak.
“oh would you look at that! our little spencer’s all grown now! my man,” morgan leans in for a side-hug, and spencer awkwardly bows his head down. his entire face is now red, his lips buried in the soft texture of his scarf. garcia and emily look at you and spencer with an awestruck expression.
“where’d you find such a beautiful woman?” emily points a finger at you while interrogating spencer, and while you’re sure she’s just being nice, you can feel the heat surfacing from your cheeks.
“shut up, emily,” your boyfriend puffs, and he quickly grabs your hand and shoves it in his pocket. he mouths, let’s go, but you’re too polite to leave a conversation that hasn’t formally ended.
“aww, is our hollywood genius shy?” morgan prods at spencer’s arm, while spencer brushes his hand off with an annoyed expression. meanwhile, the girls compliment your style and continue to shower you with questions, asking you where you were headed to and how you met spencer.
“well, i’m glad to know you’re a beautiful person, inside and out. i sort of knew spencer was seeing someone, but i didn’t expect any of this. you’re the cutest woman i’ve ever encountered, and i’m sure spencer’s overjoyed to have someone like you,” garcia talks excitedly and grasps your hands in her palms.
“and i’m lucky to have met someone like him.” you smile sweetly, tilting your head to look at spencer. he’s looking at the ground as if it’s more interesting than the conversation at hand.
“take care of him for us, will you?” morgan winks at you.
“of course.”
“and remind him every day that he’s with the most beautiful person in the world.”
you feel a tug at your jacket, and you turn around. spencer’s face is lit up with a deep shade of pink, and you know he’s signaling that he wants to head home. you quickly turn to the group to tell them you have to go, and they nod understandingly. garcia offers a tight embrace and pouts as spencer practically pries you away from her.
when the two of you turn the corner, he looks back over his shoulder to make sure his coworkers are out of sight. he then encloses you in a tight embrace and kisses your forehead.
“i’m sorry about that sudden… encounter,” he speaks into your ear, and you feel your heart flutter. your eyes close momentarily, and when you open them, he’s peering down at you while his hand rubs up and down your arm.
“don’t be, i enjoyed talking to them,” you whisper back, staring into his steady gaze.
“i’m sorry for not telling them earlier, but i really meant to. i love you... so much.” he vocalizes the last five words with a breathy tone, and you freeze, replaying the moment over and over again in your head.
they’re words you wish could be assembled and framed on a wall, transformed into something tangible that captures the picture-perfect moment of his romantic confession.
“tell me that a hundred more times when we get home.” you give him a cheesy grin before you blush at the realization of your own words.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#mgg x reader
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Silly Goose
Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader
MDNI please and thank you
Warnings: Dirty humor, mentions of masturbation, slightly dark humor if you squint.
A/N: Let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated since this is the first fic I’ve written and posted for others to read in years.
———
It started when you joined Task Force 141. Price had not considered adding another member to their already reputable team. At least, until your impressive file managed to come across his desk. Most notably the praises of former team and squad mates. You raised the morale of every company you joined as far back as your first deployment. Your previous CO could only sing your praises as Price sat and listened to him over the phone.
It was an easy decision to invite you into the team. It was confirmed to be the right decision a week later when he joined the four of you in the mess. You were in the middle of a story, the whole table captivated.
“So we had spent the last two weeks 40 clicks behind enemy lines. It should have felt like the return to civilization when we rejoined with the company. It didn’t.” Your hands punctuated your words, you were drawing in the attention of even those at surrounding tables.
“By the time we rendezvous with the rest of the company, our supply truck had been hit. Whole company on one meal a day until we could resupply with the rest of the Battalion. I knew my squad had hit its low. Everyone has lost their fight, they weren’t battle ready.” A big, easy smile splayed across your face. Price could feel the build up to the joke as he dug into his food. Him and the rest of the team remained quiet, waiting for what you would say next.
“Soap, what do you think Santa had in her magic rucksack?” You waggled your eyebrows. Their movement already earning a snort from Gaz. Price’s lips quirked up into a smirk.
“Uh… some extra MREs?” Soap was caught off guard by your question but you bounced right off, not drawing attention to his clumsy response.
“Close but no cigar. I’d packed my rucksack full of canned ravioli and porn mags. Nothing quite boosts morale like Chef Boyardee and a combat jack.” The corse words flew out of your mouth. It was evident that you’d served around men for a long time. The humor landing with the group of soldiers. Not only was your table laughing but those listening in around you as well. All except one man.
You had worked out years ago the quickest way to be welcomed by a group was to get them laughing. In school, in bootcamp, and with your newest team. Never making jokes about others or at their expense, that was your number one rule. Well number two rule. The number one rule was don’t eat yellow snow.
You easily joked about your own experiences or shortcomings. Joining the military meant you’d lived a lot of life. Life that was full of good and bad experiences. You made the best of them all and lived to make a joke out of it.
This was the first time in years, however, you’d met someone seemingly unaffected by your charm.
Ghost was stoic and cold. Eyes always watching you behind his balaclava, never showing the slightest hint of amusement. You worked overtime trying to get him to at least chuckle or to see his eyes to crinkle through the holes in his mask. Some sort of sign he at least smiled at your jokes. Any show of humor would do.
It was another meal in the mess hall when you tried again. Soap had mentioned some of the lieutenant’s deadpan and darker jokes. Maybe that was more Ghost’s sense of humor.
“So how are you still single? You’re a laugh a minute and you’re a good lookin lass?” Soap inquired, setting his tray down and taking the seat to your right. Ghost as across from you, shoveling food in where he had raised up his mask.
“Well I think it has to do with my line of work. You know how they say the surest way to a man’s heart is his stomach?” Soap noted the change in your posture. He’d picked up over the past few weeks how you sit up straighter if you were getting ready to go into another joke or funny story.
“Aye, I’ve heard that before.” He replied, a grin already forming on his face.
“Well I’ve found going through the ribcage is a lot faster.” You say pointed a finger gun at Ghost’s chest, as if to drive your point home. Soap sat for a beat before shaking his head.
“That was awful. LT, you been sharing your jokes with her?” He chuckled to himself, returning to the food on his tray.
Once again you stared Ghost down for the slightest tell. You searched his whole body for any sign of a laugh.
Disappointment grew in your gut as he finished his meal and left the table. You huffed, fork moving bits of food around your tray.
What if he just didn’t like you? That didn’t make sense though. Soap was a funny guy and Ghost got along with him just fine. Maybe it was more serious than that. Maybe he didn’t think you were needed on the team. They four of them had been working together for months before you entered the picture. Was it because you were a woman? You’d never had a negative interaction with him. He seemed immune to your banter.
“That face you’re makin’ is scary.” Soap nudged your side. A kind grin softening his features. You shook off your stress, shoving him back enough that his seat scooted.
“Sorry, that’s my default face while I’m waiting to receive more orders from the mothership. Mess hall interferes with the signal.” Humor was how you coped with everything. It’s how you deflected serious conversations. You knew you came off as simple minded and silly but you wouldn’t have risen this high in your career if that’s all there was.
It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal for you. One person not finding you funny shouldn’t eat at you the way Ghost’s reaction, or more so lack there of, did. You dwelled on it more than you were proud of. Some tender part in the deep recesses of your heart hurt to accept that he may simply not like you. That he only tolerated you professionally because his CO wanted you on the team.
As weeks went by the lieutenant’s response hadn’t changed. Any hope you had left that his reaction was just because you were new was dwindling fast. If only you would look for more than just amusement. You focused in on a sign of a singular emotion that you failed to notice all the others. But his team hadn’t missed it.
Captain Price was the first to notice the change in him. Ghost wasn’t one who usually socialized during meals, at least not on base. Since you joined, however, he’d taken more time eating. He joined in on conversations that weren’t just work related. Johnny noticed this and more, having more time to interact with Ghost than the captain.
Ghost’s eyes rarely leave you if you’re nearby. Upon approach he’ll act like he wasn’t watching you every move, usually picking up conversation with whoever he’s with or checking his watch. Soap had teased him for it on multiple occasions but Ghost always plays it off that he’s keeping an eye on how you’re adjusting.
No the team certainly hadn’t missed Simon’s big fat crush on their resident silly goose.
———
You sat on the couch of the AirBnB, watching Ghost talk on the phone with Captain Price. The two of you had been sent to observe a target who was fencing weapons for a terrorist organization. It had been a week and you had managed to find the opportunity to tap his phone calls and laptop. Besides that it was just a bunch of watching who comes and goes from his house across the street.
“Price is calling it. Nobody besides him has came or went from the house all week. We’ve planted our bugs so Lazwell can keep an eye on his digital footprint. There’s not much else for us to do here. We’ll leave at 0700 and no watch tonight.” Ghost announced, relaxing into the other end of the couch.
You nodded, turning your attention back to the TV. The only conversations you’d had the entire mission were work related. The voice of doubt in the back of your mind telling you that Ghost would only dislike you more if you tried the usual shenanigans without the buffer of the others around. The mission had kept you occupied but now that you had the night off that pit of anxiety deep in your gut came seeping back in.
You wanted to ease yourself by making a joke. You worked your bottom lip between your teeth. A normal person would make mundane conversation. Talk about the weather or ask if Ghost wanted to change the channel from the awful 90s sitcom. Anything to lift the awkward silence you felt.
Finally it came bursting out. You’d let your guard down just enough that the old habit slipped through.
“Hey Ghost, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”
You wanted to dig yourself into a hole. Of all the things to say, your brain spits out this joke. You expected silence or for him to tell you to knock it off.
His response was neither.
“I don’t know.” He gave you his full attention, looking up from his phone. Eyes already twinkling with amusement but you were too stressed to even notice. Suddenly the room was ten degrees warmer.
“A brick.” You waited for the silence. For an annoyed huff. You’d have to meet with Price and leave the team. Surely you’d never live this one down. Not when it was just you and Ghost alone.
A rich roar of laughter came from the other end of the couch. So much force behind it that your cushion shook. It didn’t last more than five seconds but you knew you’d remember that sound forever. Simon’s eyes creased so much from how big his grin was that they were almost closed.
You were in awe. You needed to hear it again.
“I thought you didn’t like my jokes.” You whispered, still in shock.
His eyebrows drew up in surprise. “You’re the funniest person I’ve met!”
You mouth open and shut not unlike a fish out of water. Confusion etched into every inch of your body.
“Then fucking laugh! Holy shit I thought you couldn’t stand me!” Relief washed over you like a warm shower after a long day.
Ghost laughed again, its warmth just as surprising this time as the last. You didn’t know when you got to your feet but now you were pacing. A barrage of emotions hit you all at once and you felt they might consume you if you sat still.
A large hand gripped your forearm, stopping you.
“When I’m on base, around those that aren’t my team, I keep up the image of ‘Ghost’. The mask, the stoicism, it’s all part of it.” He explained, turning you to face him.
A small, satisfactory smile crept onto your lips.
“So you’re telling me I just made ‘The Ghost’ laugh at a dumb joke I heard in elementary school?”
Ghost shook his head, hand releasing your wrist. His eyes were suddenly very gentle while he looked at you.
“No, you just made me laugh.” Hands pulled the balaclava over his head as he spoke. You froze, watching in awe. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair before looking up at you. “Without the mask I’m just Simon.”
Your mouth acted faster than your brain, per usual. There was no time to stop the words that flew out.
“It’s so not fair that you get to be mysterious AND hot.” You slapped your hands over your mouth.
Simon laughed again. This time his expression in full view for you to see. Your embarrassment lost as you drank in the sight of him. Brown eyes crinkled with amusement and his pink lips grinning easily.
“So you think I’m hot?”
“Shut up, I think I’m working through the stages of shock right now.” Your sarcasm and humor on full autopilot as your brain worked overtime to process all this new information. Another laugh blessed your ears.
“I know how you can shut me up.” Simon smirked, eyes full of mirth as he leaned back into the couch.
“I’m sorry, did you just flirt with me? Let a girl catch her fucking breath for…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. Simon had pulled you down and captured your mouth with his. Your lips moved in time, tongue slipping into his mouth once you’d both relaxed.
When you pulled apart the two of you spent the night talking. Having conversations about everything and anything. And you made him laugh so much his sides hurt. He didn’t mind. It felt good to relax this fully with someone. He loved the way you’d light up as he laughed, wanting to keep that expression on your face.
And he would, as often as he could, for the rest of your lives.
#cod#cod mw2#modern warfare#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost cod#simon riley#simon riley x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x you#modern warefare 2 x reader#y/n#reader insert#reader imagine#cod imagine#ghost imagine#simon riley imagine
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𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 – 𝟑
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐊𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐚𝐲
࿏ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
࿏ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐓𝐀!𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞
࿏ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬...
← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →
A/N: thank you guys SO much for all the love and support on black swan so far 🥺 i know it's a little rough to read in the beginning bc there's still so many q's but we're getting there!!!😓 i love and appreciate you all so, so much. take care babies 🧸💗
࿏ 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐄: 𝐌𝐎. + 𝐓𝐇𝐔. (+ 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫)
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