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#the last three fit perfectly together
whoophoney · 7 months
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Holding your hand in mine...
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lewdmommie · 10 months
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One night stand
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Summary: y/n is forced to do some after hours training with König
🎀Warning🎀: 18+NSFW, Oral sex, raw sex, breeding, rough sex, fluff, slight angst,praise/degradation kink, size kink etc…
ClingyKönigxreader💗
Part 2.
Part 3
Word count: 4.k
“That was good but you’re leaving yourself open.” A gloved hand takes hold of your wrist. He lifts both arms, protecting your face. Your eyes dart up catching a brief moment of eye contact before he quickly looks away. Green. His eyes were green, you hadn’t noticed till now. König was sweet but he made sure to keep his distance from people—the fact that you were this close to him at all was a shock. Sgt. Ghost didn’t take kindly to your recent mistake on the last mission. He doubled your workload and put you on probation, because most of the Barracks were close friends of yours, he assigned you the quietest person on the team. Now you and König spend three hours a day training after hours. While your peers train together, you're mopping floors and cleaning toilets. Ghost doesn’t let you train during work hours in case your colleagues distract you. This was a punishment and he made that clear. “I’m sorry you have to do this with me everyday. This is my punishment, you shouldn’t have to suffer on my behalf.” He shakes his head at your apology.
“I don’t mind…I know how Ghost gets.” He places both hands on your hips, rotating your body. The truth is he really didn’t mind, most days he looked forward to seeing you. “Keep your core strong.” He instructs. His fingers travel up the curves of your body as he repositions you. His large hands warm up your waist as ungodly thoughts intrude your mind. The mask made it impossible for you to read his emotions, any expression came from his eyes (which he often hides). The only change you could see was the way his breath hitched as his finger accidentally grazes your breast. He was always so respectful when touching you, the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Once your body is angled correctly he lets go, taking a few steps back. It almost seemed like he was avoiding the closeness. “Now attack me and defend.” He orders. You lunge forward —jabbing left, right,left,right. He blocks every punch effortlessly, guarding his face. He dodges, dipping low and charging at you. His arms wrap around your thighs hoisting you up. Your fingers interlock beating down on his back, trying to break his iron grip. He stumbles, arms loosening just enough to break free. Your feet hit the ground, König grunts as your fist connects clean with his jaw. “Uhn that one actually hurt…good job.” He waves a hand of surrender while rubbing his cheek through the mask. You run over to help. “Are you alright I’m so sorry-“ his hand shoots out, snatching your arm, spinning you. His solid arm tightens around your neck trapping you in a chokehold. His breathing is shallow, body tensing as your ass presses against him. You reach up and caress his forearm. He hadn’t realized just how small you were compared to him till now, his body engulfed the entirety of your frame. He notes how perfectly you fit in his arms and how easy it’d be to break you. Your head rests just below his pecs, the smell of your hair product wafts up his mask, he inhales the sweet scent. His bicep flexes, tightening his grip, your eyes flutter and a quiet moan falls from your lips. You loved that light headed airy feeling of being choked.
“N-never let your guard down.” He let’s go, gently pushing you away, putting a giant gap between the two of you. “Even if you think someone is done, be prepared to attack…” he trails off getting distracted by how sexy you look after an intense workout. How fast your breathing is, how your hair is messy with sweat, how your lips part as you catch your breath. He wanted to be the one to work you out.
“Oh whatever you cheated .” You laugh squatting down as you catch your breath. König crouches, grabbing his flask from the ground. His large, veiny hands twist the top off in one swipe. Unconsciously, he lifts the bottom of his mask to drink, showing you a glimpse of the lower half of his face. His jaw tenses, a trickle of water spills down his chin as he swallows. His adams apple bobs with each gulp. You gawk at the scene in front of you, thinking it has to be a daydream.
“Water?” He holds the flask to you.
“S-sure.” You ease to a sitting position on your knees reaching for the bottle. You stare at the rim that just grazed his lips. Does this count as an indirect kiss? You think. He watches you place your lips in the exact spot he’d drank from, flushed with excitement. He wonders if your lips were as soft as he imagined they’d be. How they’d feel melding with his…how they’d feel wrapped around his dick. He doesn’t dwell on it too long, knowing that would never happen and that you didn’t see him that way.
“Have you eaten?” He asks, looking at you with big green eyes.
“Sergeant told the cafeteria to only feed me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, so I haven’t eaten anything of value.” Your stomach grumbles on que.
“You must have really gotten on his bad side huh?” He offers you a hand,helping you to your feet.
“Unfortunately.” You dust off your pants and begin collecting your belongings.
“Since we wrapped up a bit early, how about I take you somewhere you can get real food.” He offers, packing his duffle bag.
“You know how tight ghost keeps the kitchen locked up…” you say with an annoyed tone.
“Who said anything about the kitchen?” His voice sounds mischievous.
“You don’t mean-?” You shake your head, stuffing your hat and jacket in the bag.
“Come on, he’ll never know I’ve worked with him long enough to know his blind spots.” He tilts his head expressively.
“Fine but if we get caught, you ordered me to go.” You hike your bag onto your shoulder, walking past him. He smiles behind you.
~
“Puedo pedir dos margaritas?(may I have two margaritas) Sí…un bistec nacho y un burrito de pollo(one steak nacho and one chicken burrito)Eso es todo, gracias(that's all thank you).” He says expertly, the waiter nods thanking you before going to pin the order up.
“Wow I’ve been deployed here longer than you and my Spanish is still choppy.” You toy with some lime slices on the table to keep yourself busy. König watches you closely, an amused look in his eye.
“I can speak a few languages but I’m not good at them all.” He looks you up and down, the lights from the club area illuminates your skin. Your hair is pulled in a now messy bun. Cute strands stick out from your training session. He is especially drawn to your lips, the way you lick and nibble your bottom lip when you’re nervous. His eyes dart away when you feel his gaze lingering and look up.
“What other languages do you speak?” You stare out into the dance floor, watching the locals swing and jump to the music. They looked carefree and happy, it’d been so long since you’ve felt good or even had a good time. Ghost saw a lot of potential in you so he stayed on your ass 24/7. Tough love is what he liked to call it.
“German is my first language.” He reveals.
“German? That’s so cool , say something in German.” He chuckles at your excitement.
“Ich möchte dich über diesen Tisch beugen und dich dazu bringen, mich ganz zu nehmen (I want to bend you over this table and make you take all of me)” he leans forward, green eyes boring into you as he says this,making sure you can hear him over the music. You had no idea what he just said but it made your thighs clench under the table.
“W-what does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you one day.” He shrugs. You toss a lime, it smacks his vest with a small thud.
“I thought friends don’t keep things from eachother.” You tease. The server brings out two large glasses with salted rims, there was no way you could finish this entire thing. He places the margaritas on either side of the table along with straws. König tears open his straw taking a long pull from his drink.
“Whoa it’s strong.” The fruity syrup barely covered the 3 shots of liquor . You indulge, sucking a mouth full of the frozen drink. It tastes strongly of strawberry slushie and tequila, the salted rim balances all the flavors with a sour finish. The alcohol must have been hitting him pretty fast because all he could imagine is him being that straw. How good the inside of your mouth must taste and feel.
“You’re right…I see why everyone is having such a good time.” You joke, taking another sip. A hearty laugh rumbles in his chest, he loved the way you always spoke your mind. It’s one of the qualities that always got you in trouble with ghost. Nothing made him laugh more than watching you stress ghost out with your witty personality.
“I guess we’d better join the party.” He raises his glass for a toast before chugging half.
The server brings out hot plates of food, everything looked and smelled amazing. Your stomach growls at the sight of real food, the liquor (coupled with only eating sandwiches for a week) takes effect making you absolutely demolish your burrito. König shyly slips a few chips under his mask, he never ate around people since it usually required the mask to come off.
“This is soooo good.” You say having another bite.
“I love this place. I come here often.” He slides in another chip.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to leave base unauthorized or maybe that’s just me.” Ghost had a tendency of giving you extra rules for your troublesome rap sheet.
“We aren’t but if you don’t get caught, did it ever happen?” He laughs, taking the final sip of his drink.
“And they call me the troublemaker.” You say glancing at the dance floor again.
“Do you want to?” He asks.
“Want to what? Dance?…no I don’t uh I don’t dance.” You dismiss quickly.
“ I’ve seen you knock grown men out y/n, dancing can’t be much harder than that.”
“You know you’re much more social than usual.” You observe.
“Only when I’m with you.” He grabs your hand leading you to the crowd.
The music thumps with bass, shaking the ground beneath your feet. A sexy song plays through the huge speakers near the DJ station. People couple up, swaying their bodies to the beat. König slips an arm around your lower back pulling you close. You struggle to find the tempo, moving left to right awkwardly. He takes your hand, spinning you around. His eyes trace the line of your body before pulling you back into his chest. You giggle at how ridiculous you look compared to his smooth rhythm. Your foot slams down on his toe as you try to find the beat “I’m so sorry! I’m so bad at this maybe I should sit-“
“Let’s try this instead.” His knee forces your legs apart, giving him control of your movements. The feeling of his thigh pressed firmly against your heat makes your head spin.
“Follow my lead.” He commands.
His waist sways back and fourth, rocking your bodies in unison. You copy his actions, grinding your hips together, the grip on your waist tightens. The fabric of your pants rub creating friction between your legs, his cock reacts to the closeness, beating as if it was dancing along with them. finding the rhythm, your body starts to move on its own.
“Scheisse (Shit)” he groans as you turn around and twirl your ass on him. His head falls back as you start to swirl your hips down and back up slowly. His big hand slides over your stomach holding you as close as possible, his rock hard member strains through his thick camo pants. Your eyes close as you grind into him, his finger grazes the exposed skin peeking from under your shirt. He trails that same finger up your torso, between your breast and up your neck. His hand rests at the base of your throat keeping hold of you as your bodies whirl around the dance floor. He spins you back around to face him, for once he demands eye contact and you’re the one shying away. You stare at the floor, giant hands cup your face pulling you to meet his feverish gaze.
“Don’t look away from me.” König’s voice sounds different, More rugged. His shoulders hunch as he leans down to your height as he speaks. “Bitte komm mit mir nach Hause” he whispers in your ear.
“What’s that?”
“Please come home with me.” He breathes.
~
“How the hell did you convince Ghost to let you room by yourself ?” You ask, stepping past the threshold.
“ My social skills and big personality helped with that.” He jokes sarcastically. König wasn’t required to room with anyone thanks to his close connection to the sergeant, leaving the two of you completely alone in his quarters.
“Well I guess if you don’t talk much there isn’t much you could say to get in trouble.” You ponder.
“Yeah you should try it.” He chuckles at your shocked expression.
“Try what exactly?” You ask appalled , holding your chest dramatically.
“Not talking. That mouth of yours is dangerous.”
“Give me one example where I said something worth getting punished for.” Your arms cross.
“If I recall correctly you said and I quote ‘why would I listen to a dude named Simon?’ ” he says in a high pitch voice mimicking yours.
“First of all he wasn’t supposed to hear that, wrong place at the wrong time on his part and secondly Simon is a funny name, the jokes practically write themselves.” He pauses for a second before doubling over with laughter.
His keys clatter on the kitchen counter as he wipes his tears of laughter away. You set your bags near the couch and sway on your heels nervously, unsure whether to sit or stand. Strong hands settle on your shoulders working away the tension you’ve been holding for god knows how long. Your head rolls back into his touch, he kneads your muscles like dough relieving any and all stress. “That feels so good, König.” You groan, closing your eyes.
“Come with me.” He grasps your hand leading you down a hall , stopping at a closed door. He twists the knob revealing a very plain bedroom, a queen sized bed with black sheets, a desk, and stacks of paperwork are all that decorate the space. There are two extra doors, one leading to the closet and the other to the bathroom. You laugh at his clumsiness. He’s clearly tipsy as he staggers to the door.
He slips his gloves off and opens the cabinet below the sink, rummaging around and pulling things out onto the bathroom floor. Finally, he emerges with a pink topped bottle. “Baby oil” the label reads.
“Strip.” He says, unbuckling his bulletproof vest and laying it on the desk chair.
“S-strip?”
“Yes, so I can massage you. That is what you want isn’t it?” He removes his thick camouflage jacket revealing the snug black material of his undershirt.
His muscles bulge veiny and tight, stretching the fabric. It was true, you did want his hands all over you. Ever since you two started training together, you found yourself fantasizing about being split by that monster of a man. Your hands fumble with the buckle of your pants as you kick your boots off. He advances, towering a wapping 6'6”. You shift with anticipation, looking up at him with gleaming eyes. The tips of his fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, swiping it over your head. Your scrunchie is taken along with it, freeing your hair (for my fellow natural haired girlies let’s just say you have braids or a wig). If you’d known you’d be stripping for someone tonight, you would have picked sexier underwear. He’s silent as he takes in how perfect you look in your plain gray and white bra/pantie combo.
“Lay on the bed.” He instructs unscrewing the baby oil top.
You listen, climbing up into the comfy cotton sheets, using your arms as pillows. He’s flustered at how obedient you are, since that wasn’t a side of you he’d seen before. The military couldn’t break you…but he would. He stands at the side of the bed admiring every dip and curve of your figure. Flipping the bottle upside down, Slick cool oil slides down your back. His thumbs rub circles along your spine, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. His long fingers slip under your bra strap, he huffs in frustration.
“In the way-“ he unclasps it skillfully. Your face is burning with embarrassment, there was no way you were laying in Königs bed half naked. A shiver runs down your leg as he slides down the elastic waist of your panties. He begins working and kneading your lower back, squeezing the plush skin of your ass. The crotch of your panties were soaked, leaving a huge wet spot on the gray fabric. He inhales, your arousal was palatable, his dick pulsates at the scent of your glistening womanhood. Your panties glide down over your ankles as he slides them off, tossing them into the corner.
“Flip over.” He grunts, tossing you around.
Your breast fall from the unclamped bra, hard nipples on full display. König doesn’t hesitate yanking and pulling you to the edge of the bed.
“On your knees.” His voice is breathy and low.
your eyes stay on him as you shift onto your knees, hands holding your chest shyly. Gently he pulls them away, slipping the straps down and off your arms. Because of his height, you’re at perfect eye level with his throbbing erection. His breath hitches as your elegant fingers undo the zipper of his pants, his earthy green eyes flutter. His big hand cradles your cheek as he watches you work to release him from the shackles of those annoying pants. His cock burst free, slapping his lower stomach. Although you couldn’t see his face, the state of his arousal was evident. Veins root from base to tip, beating rhythmically along the upward curve of his sex. His tip is blushed and oozing with pre-cum, his breathing accelerates with need. You run your tongue up the length of his rock hard shaft, he grunts head lolling back. Your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing him before opening nice and wide.
“Scheiße (Fuck)” he pants, caressing your cheek pulling your warm wet mouth down on his cock. It was even better than he’s imagined, his hand sets the pace rocking your head back and forth. Tears prick your eyes as he begins moving faster, fucking your throat. Each thrust deeper than the last, his hand moves to the base of your neck feeling how deep you can swallow him.
“You look so fucking pretty sucking my cock.” He wipes a stray tear with his thumb.
You gag as he pushes further, your throat muscles contract around him before he pulls back.
“Oh naughty naughty girl. You almost made me cum.” He teases, lightly pushing you back onto the bed. The mattress creaks from his massive size as he climbs between your legs, peering down at you. Your hand reaches under the mask, he firmly grips your wrist forcing it to the bed.
“Ask nicely.” He orders.
“Can I touch you…please.” You beg.
He releases your hand, it finds the bottom of the mask, sliding underneath to find the stubble of a 5 o'clock shadow and soft lips. Your finger strokes his lower lip, it is plump and warm.suddenly, his mouth opens nipping and sucking the skin of your curious finger. “Ah what are you-“ you moan arching your back. Pushing your hand away once more, he leans down, capturing your parted lips. Your lips dance in perfect harmony, melting into one another. He moans into your mouth, his jaw tenses as your tongue pushes through savoring the flavor that is König. The head of his dick pokes at your slippery slit begging for entry, you can feel how hot he is all over causing your temperature to rise.
“Open up for me, I’m gonna give you everything I have.” He groans, plunging inside with a flick of his hips. Your hands claw at the smooth skin of his back as you stretch around him, his girth almost too much to handle. You cry out as he thrust deeper “Just alittle more baby, you’re taking me so well…s’good s’fucking good.” He pants filling you to the brim. He stays still for a moment letting you adjust to his large size, the pressure in your pussy nearly makes you cum right then and there.
“I feel you twitching around me princess, you can’t cum yet, I’m not done breaking you.” He pulls back before slamming back in, hitting the back of your cervix with each thrust. There is a delicious ache in your belly as he impales you, the curve of his dick reaches places you didn’t even know existed.
“Ah ah s’to big I-I can’t I can’t.” You cry biting the skin of his chest to hold back your screams.
“You’re gonna take what…I…give…you.” He pounds with each word. He sits up pushing your knees to your chest forcing even deeper inside your velvety walls. This position gives him access to your stiff wet bud. With two fingers he spreads your creamy folds watching his dick pump in and out of you. Every thrust his cock emerges more coated than the last.
“Your pussy is so fucking gorgeous , look at that needy little clit.” He flicks your bud, rutting into you with all his strength. His long fingers grab your throat, your tongue lols out as he chokes you. He alternates the pressure taking you up and gently bringing you back down. “That pretty mouth isn’t so dangerous now.” Your quivering walls clench around him threatening to overflow.
“P-please I’m gonna…ah!” He pulls out, gripping your waist as he throws you around, roughly raising your ass to him. Before you can register the change he splits you apart once again, slapping your plush ass, leaving hot hand prints on your skin. Those giant hands push and pull you back on his cock, using your pussy to make himself cum.
“You have such a cute tummy.” He reaches around pressing on your lower belly feeling how full it is with his cock.
“You would make such a pretty mommy.” He praises fucking you faster and harder. That throws you over the edge, your body convulses and clamps down icing his dick with your sweetness.
His teeth clench with an inhuman growl as his rod twitches and throbs before shooting your insides with his hot seed.
~
“Late again huh, rookie? That’s an extra week.” You jump, turning around. Ghost stands over you. It was true last night’s events made it impossible to wake up at 5 am with the other soldiers. You ended up sneaking out of Königs bed in the middle of the night, hoping you could sneak back into your barracks undetected. The mission was success. You slipped into your bed at 2 a.m before anyone could realize you were gone. Unfortunately, that means you overslept, waking up three hours late.
“I was…sick.” You lie scrubbing the bathroom tiles diligently.
“Sick? You were fine yesterday.” He says with a flat tone.
“Must have eaten something bad, all those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches must have taken a toll.” You grunt, rubbing your stomach.
“Next time you’re sick. You report it to me in advance.” He orders.
“How can I predict when I’m gonna be sick?-“
“Don’t question me.” He spins on his heels walking out the bathroom.
“Okay Simon.” You mock.
“What was that rookie?” He calls back.
“Nothing Sargeant!” You exclaim.
He walks away finally, leaving you with the smell of bleach and toilet water. Your arms ache from scrubbing. throwing the sponge in the bucket of cleaning solution, you sit back against the wall thinking about last night. All morning you avoided seeing König, ducking and dodging him in the halls. Every time you thought of him, your face burned with embarrassment, there is no way you could look him in the eye after that. For now your plan is to just lay low in hopes he was too drunk to remember anything. It was nothing. Just a drunken one night stand.
“There you are.” He charges forward looking down at you.
“H-here I am whats up König…do you need a copy of that report-“
“Why did you sneak out last night.” He interrupts.
“Psh me? Sneak out I didn’t sneak out. I just went for a walk…and ended up in my bed.” You reach into the bucket with gloved hands wringing the sponge out.
“Why couldn’t we sleep together?” He asks.
You fly to your feet in a panic “Shhh! What if someone hears you?”
“So what?” He tilts his head in confusion.
“Superior and subordinate relationships are strictly prohibited!” You whisper/yell.
“Right…hm, okay in here then.” He takes your hand leading you into the stall furthest from the door, The lock clicks behind you.
“Can’t this wait till after hours.” You say with an annoyed tone.
“I want an explanation.” His arm rests on the wall above your head.
“This. This is why I snuck off, to avoid whatever this is. Now I’m stuck in a bathroom stall talking about…feelings.” You hold your stomach making a pained face.
“This isn’t funny.” His voice is low.
“You’re right it isn’t but it is complicated .”
“Y/n? You in here?” A voice calls.
You mouth shit, covering what you assumed was his mouth through the mask.
“Yeah! I was just cleaning!” You call back.
“Who were you talking too?” She asks her foot steps advancing.
“No one! Here I come!” You let him go squinting your eyes.
“This isn’t over.” He whispers sharply, moving to the side.
“I can see that.” You grumble walking out the stall to greet your friend.
…to be continued?
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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months
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Finders Keepers
"Do not forget that the new groundskeeper is scheduled to arrive today at noon. I expect everyone to be courteous and to clean up their nighttime rubbish before his arrival," Alfred reminds them as they struggle to sit through breakfast.
Last night's patrol was brutal, and everyone was a bit bruised up and sore, not to mention that most only got an hour or so of sleep.
They collectively groan- except for Bruce and Damian, but neither count as full humans anyway, no matter what their DNA says otherwise.
Tim, in particular, is rubbing his hands down his face. "But Alfred, today's my only day off for the next six weeks!"
"I fail to see how your poor time management will change the outcome of doing your chores, Master Tim," The butler states. Tim cowards instantly at the sight of that arched brow on his grandfather's face and melts into his seat.
Pleased, Alfred taps his wristwatch. "You all have three hours. Better get to it."
They scatter. Bruce runs to his office to clean up all his paperwork, knowing some purchases were not Wayne Industries. Jason hits the multiple garages to ensure nothing bat-related is thrown in the toolboxes.
Dick is swinging by the handlers, taping his hands along the beams and pulling out hidden gadgets. Cass and Duke are walking on the roofs, double-checking the boobytraps.
Steph and Damian have offered to patrol the Batcave and the connecting tunnels to ensure the motion sensors are active.
Tim is told to walk along the property and make sure no surprise holes will appear. Bruce fell into the cave system when he was young, so the new groundskeeper might have the same fate. It's the more leisurely job since Bruce obsessively checks since it happened, but they all know Tim can barely keep his eyes open.
Tim doesn't mind because he must pat his bo staff on the ground, stomping his foot ever so often and scanning the environment with his wrist computer. He doesn't even bother to change out of his pajamas- an old pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt Kon lent him when he once slept over and never returned. It's mostly just a walk, but it feels like an entirety to his sleep-deprived mind.
His eyelids are heavier than usual, every blink feels like a bag of sand, and he still has to check at least three-thirds of the Wayne Manor grounds.
He is wandering towards the east side of the property when he finds a very convenient bush shaped perfectly to block the sun and offer him a tiny nooch to snuggle into.
He glances back at the house and then at the time on his wrist computer. He has two hours and twenty minutes before the groundskeeper arrives.
"One short nap," Tim mutters, getting on his hands and knees to crawl into the bush. He twists to lie on his back, using his jacket as a pillow. His whole body fits inside, so Alfred will likely not catch him. The scrub is soft, and Tim relaxes into his protective shade. "I'll get up in a bit."
The wind blowing through the trees and the bushes around him lures him to sleep.
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"Hey"
A voice cuts through his dream of jumping over the city, chasing after his family but maskless. They weren't running around the roofs fighting a good fight; the Waynes in his dream were just spending time together. Laughing. Goodnaturely teasing.
It's wonderful.
It's everything he's ever wanted.
It's slowly disappearing as he is coming back to consciousness.
Tim groans, trying to roll over and return to the dream, but the voice speaks again. "Hey, man, you can't sleep here."
A hand clamps on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Tim mutters, weakly swapping it away. "No. No. No."
"Come one, man, I can't have the big boss see you. It's my first day, and I don't want to get fired because I let some guy sleep in his yard." The voice continues, sounding pleasing and guilty.
Tim whimpers, rubbing his face against the cold hard ground. "No. No. No. Please, I just want to sleep. I'm not hurting anybody."
"Ancients....okay. Okay. Listen, I will let you sleep a little longer while I work. I'll finish mowing the yards and trim all the bushes. That should be at least five hours. I must move you if you're still here when I return."
Tim doesn't answer, too busy slipping back into his sleep as a hand gently runs through his hair. He snuggles into the warm palm with a sigh.
Someone gulps. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tim snaps his eyes open to see that everything is pitch dark. Oh crude!
How long has he been asleep? What time is it? Was Alfred going to kill him!? What was he thinking?
Of course, Alfred would kill him, and unlike Jason or Damiman, the elder would not fail. In fact, from what Tim could make out in the darkness, a man was standing over him wearing white gloves.
He found me! Tim thinks historically. I didn't even have time to run!
The white gloves move closer as if they were going to touch him. He leaps up with a scream, and a man falls over.
"Woah! Woah! Hey, it's okay, I'm not a cop!" The stranger- not Alfred- shouts. Tim pauses, then lets out a louder scream. The man rushes forward to slam his hands against Tim's mouth.
He glances frantically at the manor- it's too far away to see anyone since Tim chose to nap at the very edge of the vast land Bruce's ancestors purchased.- before hissing. "Could you keep it down? Look, I let you sleep long enough; you must move."
Tim blinks owlish at him. His mind is fuzzy- shit, was he hit with something last night? He couldn't remember.- but he thinks he knows him.
Dark Hair.
Blue Eyes.
Pretty facial features.
Oh, it's one of his brothers. Dick? Yeah, it's Dick. Has to be. Tim is sure. He can't think clearly now, but he knows his eldest brother. This guy has the same color eyes. It's him.
Does Dick know he is Tim's brother? Does he know who he is?
"Dick," He tells the man in jeans overalls, just in case he forgets his name. His brother frowns.
"I know. I hate to do it, okay? But you can't sleep here."
"I can't?"
"No, dude."
"Where can I sleep?"
Dick sighs. "I think there is a shelter that-"
"Take me home."
Dick pauses, taken aback. "What?"
Tim leans forward, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "I'm tired. I want to go home."
"Where do you live? Is there someone I can contact for you?" Dick asks in high pitched voice, seemingly uncomfortable by Tim's closeness but too bad. Tim never gets enough hugs, so he must deal with it because he wants hugs now.
"No, I want to go home with you!" He whines, and the world starts to spin. Quickly closing his eyes against the nausea, Tim tries to hide further into Dick's shoulder. "Take me home with you."
Dick is quiet for a long moment before he slumps. Carefully, he reaches up to pet Tim's hair, and it's so comforting that he almost falls back to sleep. "I'm going to regret this, but something in my core tells me to do what you say. You wouldn't happen to know a Clockwork, would you?"
Tim shakes his head.
"Right. Okay, taking a homeless stranger I found in the Waynor Manor bushes. Seems on-brand to me. Let's go."
Tim follows.
Who was he following? He doesn't remember, but when he climbs into a van with the words "Phantom Groundskeeping," he doesn't feel worried.
In fact, once he's buckled in, head leaning against the window and pulling his legs up to his chest, he feels oddly protected. The driver of the van is also beautiful.
Like wow. Talk about a work of art.
"I love you," He tells the man, who laughs, flickering blue sad eyes at him.
"Thanks. Take a nap. I think you should sleep off whatever your on and then I can get you some help."
"Do you love me too?"
"....sure. Go to sleep now."
"Will I die?"
"What?"
Tim can feel the word fading away, which is terrible; he knows it is but can't remember why. He just knows that when it disappears, he'll never wake up again. He tells the stranger as such, voice just barely above a whisper.
Glowing green eyes snap to him in alarm, and a small breath of blue leaves the stranger's mouth. Tim thinks he's slowly gaining a hint of horror, but his body begs him to sleep.
Tim blinks once, then twice, as the stranger's mouth opens and closes before he snaps his eyes to the road. "What a time to go mad."
The diver's grip on his steering wheel tightens, but Tim can barely keep his eyes open, so he can't see the gorgeous stranger's face as he whispers. "No. I won't let you die. Just....just sleep, okay? I'll figure it out."
Tim does.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Crap!" Jason yells, running up the stairs from the Batcave. In his hand are the test results for the standard toxicity screening they all undergo whenever they fight someone who even remotely deals with drugs.
Everyone was too tired to look at them properly, which means they all missed that Tim's blood was covered in what looked like a blend of Poison Ivy's love pollen and some kind of sleep-inducing strain.
Tim is out there, somewhere tripping balls or cuddling up to a stranger or unconscious, slowly slipping into a coma. They all thought he bailed on his work and deserved a day off so no one bothered to go after him.
Now Tim could be dead.
He rounds the large hall, his stomping footsteps barely covering the sounds of Alfred's smooth voice.
"It seems the groundskeeper is asking for a week off already. He just got married and-"
"Crap! Crap! Crap! Bruce!" He shouts, slamming the door of his dad's office open. His grandfather and father both turn sharply to him, and neither misses the paper that Jason throws. Their eyes widen in horror when they read what's on the report. "We need to find Tim!"
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Jazz wakes to find a half-dressed stranger curled around Danny, a ghost contract with drying blood on the ground, and a hastily made banner that reads "Happy Elopement!" thrown on the wall.
The living room looks like a confetti bomb went off in it. Did she miss a party being hosted in her own house? While sleeping in the room next door?
Johnny- her ex and surprisingly good friend after he stop bothering her brother- is sitting cross-legged, eyes glued on the TV.
"What. The. Fuck." Jazz asks, walking over to pour herself a cup of coffee.
"Morning," Johnny replies without so much as turning around. Since Jazz helped plan his and Kitty's wedding, the ghost becomes a brother to the Fentons. "Danny eloped."
"I figured as much by the banner." She mutters, walking over to the couch his brother and her new brother-in-law occupy. She stares at the stranger. He looked....familiar?
"Yeah, don't know all the details, but I guess his hubby was dying, so Danny pulled a Ghost King contract out of his ass and saved him by passing on his healing factor after they were hitched," Johnny says. Jazz takes a sip of her coffee. "I think he thinks he can divorce him or something. But till death due us part doesn't apply to Halfas. They're married forever, even in life or death."
"Shit." Jazz sighs. "Danny got himself into another situation. And he was doing so well recently, too. Became a groundskeeper for the Waynes and everything."
"Waynes pay well?"
"Danny could have paid off my student loans in four paychecks."
"Damn." Johnny whistles. Just then, Kitty floats through the wall wearing a red bathing robe. Jazz will never get used to the fact ghosts could look so human in the morning, with their messy hair and dazed expression. "Morning, babe."
"Morning," Kitty mumbles, leaning down to kiss Johnny. She glances at Danny and smiles. "They're so cute. I'm so happy Danny found his Core Mate."
"Core Mate?" Jazz asks.
"Like a soulmate but more dead," Kitty explains. "They are scarce to find, but once your core finds what it wants, it's fated. That's probably why Danny married so quickly, even if it was to save a life he normally wouldn't have."
Jazz looks back at the boy wrapped around in Danny's arms. Her brother is holding him like he's the most precious thing in either world, even in his sleep, and she knows that no matter what she or anyone says, he's not going to give up- wait a minute.
The stranger moves slightly in his sleep, snuggling up against Danny more, and his hair falls out of his face.
Shit.
"That's Tim Drake. Danny stole away Tim Drake." She deadpans. "Danny went over to cut Bruce Wayne's yard and returned with his son to elop with."
"In one afternoon? I'm impressed." Johnny laughs. "He really said all services included."
"Don't be gross, Johnny," Kitty scolds, but she's smiling. Jazz just shakes her head, reaching down for the contract. She may as well read what kind of dead-brain idea her baby brother got involved with this time.
2K notes · View notes
undercoverpena · 1 year
Text
had to see you
simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader
summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.
an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here
simon ghost riley masterlist
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You love the rain. 
Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit. 
But, at home, it’s refreshing. 
It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next. 
Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.
It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called. 
On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices. 
At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat. 
Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather. 
Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.
You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts. 
Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.
You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.
The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.
When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.
That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them. 
Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness. 
It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.
It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock. 
Short. Deliberate. 
Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door. 
When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them. 
Only to see him. 
“Ghost?” 
He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. 
His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.
You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.
Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.  
“You lettin’ me in?” 
Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it. 
Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks. 
He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second. 
Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“
“Someone broke into my place.” 
You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was. 
Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back. 
“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?” 
“Not sure.” 
Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?” 
He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain. 
“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper. 
As if it’s so rarely ever said. 
You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything. 
He’s Ghost. 
Silent. Quiet, Ghost. 
Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound. 
Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?” 
Silence. 
A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.” 
You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.” 
He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to. 
“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.” 
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You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him. 
But you’re more nervous. 
Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is. 
Him being here. 
And yet, not that odd at all. 
“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.
He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him. 
His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit. 
“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add. 
Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show. 
And then, he says, “It’s nice.” 
“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”
“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly. 
“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.  
Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.” 
His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table. 
“It’s not what I expected.” 
“You’ve thought about my place?” 
Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down. 
You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward. 
“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”
You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement. 
“You were closer.” 
Oh. 
Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason. 
Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months… 
It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.
Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat. 
“I had to see if you were okay.” 
You don’t place the plates down, not immediately. 
Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat. 
He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue. 
Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you. 
“Well, I’m fine.” 
“Had to be sure.” 
You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.” 
His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.  
“Tea?” you ask. 
Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips. 
“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”
You make him snort. 
And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.
If anything, it adds to it. 
Shit. 
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Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.
“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand. 
You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him. 
Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between. 
He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it. 
It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down. 
That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room. 
He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes. 
You cannot die.
Why?
But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again. 
Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost. 
Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm. 
“What?” 
Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’. 
You forget how good he is at reading people. 
Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle. 
Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart. 
Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat. 
Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.” 
Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk. 
But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you. 
Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.” 
“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.” 
“How then?” 
Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit. 
“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.” 
You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name. 
Your real name. 
Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier. 
“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”
“It?” 
You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense. 
“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?” 
Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you. 
He’s silent. 
So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it. 
Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.” 
You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.
For what you’re not sure. 
Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination. 
So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.” 
He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.” 
But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape. 
Go back. 
Go back to him. 
Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.
He came to check on you. You. 
Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak. 
It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.  
It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again. 
His hoodie is gone. 
Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.
Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin. 
“Tell me to go back to your living room.” 
Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side. 
You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again. 
As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined. 
“Words, sweetheart.” 
Sweetheart.
Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you. 
“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.” 
Speechless, your lips part. 
Yes. Please, yes. 
Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—
His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality. 
“Simon…” you manage to whisper.
Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough. 
He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.
Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips. 
Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed. 
He smells different than usual.
Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough. 
“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?” 
His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for. 
“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up. 
His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.” 
If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it. 
All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.
And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do. 
“Wait.”
It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you. 
Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.
And he smirks.
The devious bastard smirks. 
Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him. 
“Fuck…”
“Part them, sweetheart.”
And you do.
You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back. 
The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.
You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big. 
Almost too big. 
The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans. 
He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers. 
You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him. 
The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side. 
“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours. 
Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you. 
“I want you.” 
“Yeah?”
You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”
“I hope you fucking don’t.”
His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.
You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds. 
You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.  
“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.” 
“Simon…” 
Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched. 
He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you. 
You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows. 
“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.” 
It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.
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He does ruin you.
Not the first time, the second, but on the third.
Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom. 
You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.
A painting in colours of his own design. 
You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care. 
Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe. 
You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.
"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.
Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.
Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.
“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.” 
He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move. 
Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building. 
"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."
His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.
"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."
You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.
Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.
“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.” 
Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.” 
You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart? 
His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.
“The latter.” 
You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.
Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.
“You make shit tea, though.” 
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read part two
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a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!
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yesimwriting · 1 year
Text
Pulling Away
A/n did i write smut for once? yeah. also timeline wise is this perfectly accurate? it’s iffy,, but this fic isn’t about the plot too much so it’s okay
Summary: You’re not the only one that’s feeling a little territorial thanks to the influx of people you’re around in Jackson. 
warnings: 18+, implied age gap, no condom, a tiny bit manipulative if you squint, brief mention of losing virginity.
----
He’s not a force of nature, no matter how hard he might pretend to be for the sake of those around him. Joel can’t actually change anything. So the shift in temperature you feel as Joel stills has to be a byproduct of what’s in your head. 
The kind of burning cold that better fits a fever runs through you and you hate yourself for it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been delusional when it comes to him. 
You’re working off of a quarter of his face against low lighting. It doesn’t make sense for you to be able to feel so much from the little of him that you can see. It’s not anger. Or at least, not just that. There’s definitely a subdued rage radiating from him, but it’s undercut by something that punches you straight in the gut. 
Maybe you’re being a little unfair, but you have a right to it at this point. You can’t follow him around blindly like some kind of puppy forever. Especially now that you’re both settled enough to be able to think of things outside of pure survival.
“Ellie’s asleep.” A flat observation that you can’t explain. Maybe it’s the need to break the silence, or maybe it’s a genuine attempt at making things feel normal. You two should still be able to talk. You never wanted that to end. “Swore she wasn’t tired, but passed out as soon as her head touched the mattress.” 
Joel lets out a small sound from the back of his throat. It’s a spike in the atmosphere. “Think I’m gonna go to bed, too.” You don’t understand your awkwardness or the urge to create distance. It’s not like Joel would hurt you, but then again, the buzz of adrenaline doesn’t seem to be coming from a place of fear. It’s an uneasy burning that worsens when you raise your eyes enough to meet his. “Night.” 
The one word is a little better and somehow so much worse. Not aggressive or trying to make things better. It’s just there. Civil. 
When he says nothing, you take it as your sign to call it a night. Tomorrow could be better. Sure, your rocky dynamic might be going through growing pains while you set boundaries that should have been established long ago, but you’ll likely survive this. You’re all staying together in the same house in Jackson for the time being and you both care too much about Ellie to separate over something small. 
Even if Joel won’t directly admit to it, the part of your relationship that feels like co-parenting is sacred. That’s part of the reason why the feelings you’ve been fighting with yourself to dismantle are so complicated. He cares about Ellie more than he wants to admit and the last thing you need right now is to tear away the little stability she’s finally been given. Not over a few awkward conversations and stiff moments. 
The weird irony that vaguely reflects the issues of the world before isn’t lost on you. If someone were to squint at the situation, you’d seem like a wife trapped in a marriage for the sake of her children. Maybe if it was happening to someone else you’d have enough energy to find it funny. 
You turn carefully, like a too loud squeak of your shoes could be what snaps the thinning thread tying you two to a hint of casualness. You don’t need to pass him to get to where you’re sleeping. The three of you had been set up in a space that allowed for each person to have their own room. It’s like that in theory, but in practice it’s more like Ellie’s room, Joel’s room, and the spare. 
A comfortable enough bedroom that you’ve maybe spent the entire night alone in twice in the weeks you’ve been here. You can’t even pretend that you keep the few things you own in there either. Joel’s an even lighter traveler than you, so slowly your items made their way into the drawers in his room. Now, your room is basically just where you go to change into and out of sleepwear.
You’ll get used to it, used to the draft that originally led to you giving up on rocky sleep the first night you ended up sleeping next to Joel. Your dreams kept you up even more than the cold, but when Joel’s drowsy voice called out to you in the dark, asking why you were awake, you blamed the night’s chill. That’s how it first happened. 
It was a mistake you should have never let turn into habit. You’re correcting it now. Setting boundaries to prevent heartbreak. It’s only a matter of time considering the way the women here look at him.
“Since when do you sleep in there?”
His voice is so gruff it instinctually freezes you. Any sarcastic comment at the back of your throat vanishes immediately. The both of you are fully aware of how you end up each night, but it’s a boundary in itself not to mention it. You’re not sure if it’s more him or you, but what happens at night and early in the morning is never mentioned.
It’s a dip into another reality. A space where Joel’s a little lighter, almost more open. Sometimes he’ll drag your arm with him when he moves onto his side, a silent way of asking you to stay close. On the best nights, he’ll joke about it, letting your limbs meld together under a blanket and swear he’s just trying to keep you warm out of the kindness of his heart. 
His humor is the worst. The kind that some might justify as a result of years of it being at a stalemate for years considering the tragic state of the world, but you know better. They’re the kind of jokes that take a second to settle because of his general exterior, but are meant to be so dumb they force out a smile. In another life, the little comments are dad jokes.
The peace bleeds into the mornings now, he’ll keep the closeness and remind you that you don’t have to get up immediately by mumbling something about Ellie still being asleep. Like she’s the only thing significant enough to get you two to return to reality. 
You’re convinced that these moments exist because neither of you mention them. He’s crossing a line you didn’t realize meant so much to you and he’s being dramatic it, too. It’s not the rarest thing for you to ‘attempt’ to sleep in your own bed. Sure, you’re more likely to lay in that room for a few hours on nights where Ellie stays up a little later, but this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve done. 
He’s ripping any chance of returning to that separate world away from you. It stings more than it should. “Thought I’d give it a try,” you voice is too low, too defensive, “It’s not a big deal.” 
The defense sounds so weak in your own ears, you don’t even want to imagine what he took from it. “Bullshit.”
His voice comes out in such a low huff you feel it more than hear it. If the sound had felt any less dangerous, you would have pretended to mistake it for another wordless grunt. Your lips part slowly as your mind struggles to create any kind of logical response. 
Pretending is clearly getting you nowhere. The only reason you ever pretended it would was pure delusion. Joel has always been able to see through you, through any shift in mood. Even when your lies are better, his ability to sense them is uncanny. 
He turns with no warning. Joel crosses the space between you before you can even fully register his steps. Your body tenses as heat rushes to your face in result of an oddly charged parody of fight or flight. You almost step back, one heel shifting back, but then you meet his gaze and the determined glint behind his eye is enough to melt you into place. 
There’s something else there, too. A focus that pins you into place even further. Holds you there better than the barrel of a pistol could. 
The absurdity of the warmth rooted in your chest should be enough to make the feeling go away. It doesn’t, so you force your lips to part again. You need to say something. Anything. “Joel?” Not that. Not just his name in a voice that feels violently small. 
“You’re pullin’ away.” 
The accusation in his voice leaves no room for argument. You try anyways, “No.” The rest of your thoughts can’t come out while you’re looking at him at the same time. There’s shame in dropping your gaze to focus on your shoes and the little space between you. “It’s not like that.” 
Joel lets out a low sound. The creak of the floor as he steps forward again snaps you out of your trance. You step back in a desperate attempt to keep the space between the two of you equal. Your back hits the wall before you can come close to achieving your goal. It’s a knee jerk reaction that leaves your face feeling even warmer than before. A part of you expects Joel to laugh at the sound or at least comment on it. He doesn’t. He continues forward until his mouth is so close to your ear the warmth of his breath lingers when he exhales. 
He takes a second there, relishing in your stillness. “Don’t lie to me.” Joel pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. “You don’t want to talk to me, you’re talkin’ about leavin’.” The southern drawl of his voice is increasing with his frustration. It’s distracting in a way that feels too convenient. Like he’s doing this on purpose. 
You swallow once. “You found your brother. I have a sister out there, I’d--I think now that things are more settled with Ellie it wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to look for her.” 
“And you don’t want us goin’ with you, but you’re more than willing to let the guy that’s always lookin’ at you--” 
“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” You are insane. Of course his issue is who mentioned it. John knows travel, leaves Jackson and comes back in one piece when he needs to. He wouldn’t be the worst person to have with you if you did want to start a rudimentary search for your sister. “I didn’t make any plans with John, it just came up.” 
“You don’t want us goin’ with you.” 
Your throat feels dry. The thought of it makes you feel cold. You haven’t seen your sister in a few years and so much has changed. You’re no longer in the QZ and your sister has no way of knowing that. She can’t reach out if there’s trouble or good news and she has no reason to assume that you’re safe. You know where she lives, and if she’s not there, you know a few of her usual spots. She doesn’t typically stray too far from her bubble. It wouldn’t be a long trip, just long enough. 
Long enough to give you some space. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be around Joel all the time. Long enough to feel less about him. 
And you’d come back. You wouldn’t just walk out of his life and Ellie’s forever. The little bit of space you’re trying to get would make it easier for you to stick around in the long run because it’s the only way you can think to get rid of the feelings that are trying to ruin everything. 
“We haven’t been here that long and Ellie’s finally starting to feel settled. I don’t want to drag her out of that yet and make her feel like her entire life is just going to be her being dragged around the country.” 
Your words are a jumble, rushed together in a way that makes the honesty of them less effective. It’s a good point. Ellie just called her room hers the other day and even asked about moving the bed against a different wall.
Joel lets out a low breath, eyes hardening. “You’re right. She’s settlin’ and she needs you.” He knows he’s hit his mark when you don’t respond. “How do you think she’s gonna take the news that you’re leaving?” 
“Leaving to visit my sister.” You struggle to swallow. “Temporarily. It’ll take less than two weeks.” 
His lips pull into a frown as his eyebrows together. Moody and brooding. The look you’ve openly referred to as his old man scowl. “With John.” 
Ugh. This again. Why does it matter? Yes, John will be there, but it’s not like it’s just you and John. Your sister isn’t that far and she has access to supplies that aren’t common, she has an understanding with people that have easy access to medical supplies. 
But even if it was just you and John, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of areas in which you factor in Joel’s opinion, but this is definitely not one of them. You two aren’t together and with the way he does nothing to show any discontent when the girls here start to look at him, he definitely doesn’t need you keeping his bed warm at night. 
“If I go, he wouldn’t be the only one there.” The fact that you’re trying to justify John’s presence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re a grown woman, free to associate with whoever you want. You might jokingly call him your old man from time to time, but he has no right. “And if even if he was, what does it matter?” 
His jaw locks and the downwards tilt of his chin erases the little bit of confidence you’ve managed to build. “You’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”
You have to bite your tongue to avoid from blurting out that he’s also seen the way majority of the women you see on a daily basis look at him. Joel’s also exaggerating. John does not have any feelings for you, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you see John as anything more than a friend. But even if you did--it is not his business. At all. 
“He doesn’t.” There’s little point in saying that, Joel’s not one to have his mind so easily swayed and he’s been wary of John since the beginning. Sometimes it even feels like the more you insist that he’s a good friend, the more Joel seems to dislike him. “And if he did, it doesn’t matter.” 
Your words feel like a retreat they shouldn’t need to be. Small, the meaning of the sentence compacted and straining against the limited syllables. A part of you expects Joel to understand what you do mean. That it doesn’t matter because it takes two interested parties to form any kind of relationship. That your mind isn’t even there in terms of feeling safe...that the only person who has ever made you feel safe enough to imagine anything beyond friendship is right in front of you. 
For the first time, Joel doesn’t pick up on the relevance of what isn’t said. You can feel his lack of understanding in the way he moves, placing one hand on the wall, near your head. You blink, trying in vain to explain the motion, explain his proximity. He’s caging you in. 
The heat of his body is practically inescapable, amplified by the way he smells. Joel showered a little earlier, his natural scent combining pleasantly with that of plain soap. After so many nights next to him, you would think you would have developed a tolerance. You haven’t. And even if you did, you doubt it’d matter...this is different. Dizzying. 
“Doesn’t matter?” 
He’s somehow even closer and somehow not touching you. The realization that that’s the worst part of this leaves your stomach fluttering. You need the feeling gone, so you force out the first words that come to mind, “It matters as much as all the girls that look at you like that.” 
It feels more bitter than it comes out, leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. You need out. You need space. You need sleep. Joel’s silence feels like opportunity, so as subtly as you can you try to shift away from the wall. Your back is off the wall for less than a second before you’re pushed back against it. 
Your body hits the wall before you can realize that Joel’s hand is on your hip. There’s too much surprise for that fact to settle, so you look up at him almost bewildered. You expect him to let go or at least look somewhat apologetic. He does the opposite, moving the hand on the wall under your jaw and closing the distance between you in a motion so quick you can barely register it. 
His mouth is on yours before your mind can catch up. It makes no difference to him. He’s rabid in his patience, taking what he wants without forcing your lips to part. His hand squeezes your hip and all at once it connects. You gasp and Joel pins you to the wall even more securely, deepening the kiss with an expert’s ease. 
It lasts until you can’t breathe and ends with his teeth grazing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. “All of this,” the words are exhaled lowly, “’Cause you’re jealous.” 
The kiss left you so light headed your first instinct is to just agree. To not think and do or say whatever you need to in order to get him that close again. But his tone is too sure, too teasing, and the implication isn’t something he can just get away with. “Jealous?” His smugness is hard to take with him holding you against the wall like this. It’s too vulnerable, like this might be some kind of game to him. It makes you feel transparent. Hollow. “Fuck whoever you want, I don’t care.” 
It’s like you’ve said nothing until Joel has the audacity to squeeze your hip. “Whoever I want?” His hand shifts up your hip, your shirt moving with him. “Hm.” His hum settles beneath your skin, effectively silencing you as his eyes take their time raking over your face and down your body. “Those were some big words from you.” 
Heat rushes to your face. It’s ridiculous--you curse more than that on a regular basis. He’s playing into context, too aware of what he’s doing. The urge to push burns twice as hard as buzzing in your chest. “They’re true. We’re not--we’re not anything, so if I want to go with--” 
“I’m not losin’ you.” There’s a desperation in there that comes out so hard it circles back to vulnerable. “You wanna go see your sister, we go see your sister. That’s how we got through everything else.” The hand on your hip moves down, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your shorts. You hate yourself a little for the way your breath audibly catches. “Understand?” 
His hand lowers even further, long fingers pressing against the fabric of your underwear. You’re not breathing right and you can’t bring yourself to care. The only thing you can think of is closer. “Y-yes.” 
“’Yes’ what?” No sympathy in his voice or anything that would give away that he has a hand shoed down your pants. 
His touch picks up pace, rubbing against you until a whimper escapes your lips. “Yes, sir.”
Joel moves his hand away with no warning. The whine that escapes your lips doesn’t feel like your own. He’s barely touched you and you’re already like this. “Barely touched you and you’re already listening.” He hooks two fingers in between the band of your underwear. “Should’ve done this awhile again, then.” 
You’re burning all over, the only thing you can manage is a quick, “Shut up.” It lacks any bite. 
He pulls at the band of our underwear, letting it snap back into place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d consider the flash of something softer across his face as amusement. “If you want me to stop, you’ve gotta tell me.” 
Your nod feels desperate. Your entire body feels desperate. For the way he kissed you, the way he touched you. “I-I’ll tell you.” He’s still not moving, not doing anything. It’s some sort of punishment. It has to be. “Joel...” 
“You going to say ‘please’?” 
You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but then his fingers hook around your underwear again. A promise. “Please, Joel.” This is all unfamiliar but you trust Joel to get what you want, what you need. “Need you.” 
With no warning, he yanks down your shorts and underwear. They fall down your legs and you blindly kick them to the side. “Need me?” He tilts his head down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your cheek, then two to your jaw. “Need me where, sweetheart?” 
God. Anywhere. Everywhere. Your desperation reminds you of how incredibly unfair it is that you’re already down to just our t-shirt and Joel’s still fully dressed. You move your hand slowly, carefully tugging at whatever piece of clothing on him you can reach. 
He’s unimpressed. “C’mon, use your big girl words.” His hand is in between your thighs, his fingers teasing at your entrance in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. “You were usin’ them just fine a second ago.” 
“Joel,” he kisses your jaw again, forcing away all train of thought. It has to be intentional. “Joel,” again, too soft. 
“I know,” he exhales the words against your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Need me to take care of you.” Joel doesn’t wait for a reaction, just pushes his fingers fully into you. You gasp too loudly, Joel moves his free hand over your mouth. “Be a good girl and be quiet. Can’t wake up Ellie.” 
Shit. How did you not think of that? “You’ll be good and quiet for me? Let me stretch you out a bit first?” There’s a knot in your stomach that’s slowly taking over all of your senses. As long as Joel keeps working at it, you could promise him anything. You nod against the palm of his hand. 
You bite your tongue to keep from whimpering too loudly. “Need you to relax,” he presses into you even more firmly, “Get you ready for me.” 
He slowly eases his hand off of your face. “Joel, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you just know you need more. You want him to consume you entirely. Feel him until he’s all there is.
You hear the sound of a belt buckle and his jeans shifting. Instinctually, you move a hand towards him, wanting to help, wanting to feel him. “There’ll be time for that, right now it’s about you.” You’re about to argue when he skillfully adds another finger. Fuck. “You’re tight,” he breathes, “No one’s ever touched you here?” 
His fingers curl inside of you and you have to burry your face into the fabric of his shirt to keep from crying out. “Only you.” 
“Look who’s found her manners.” He’s picking up the pace and smoothing down your hair as you squirm against him. “Should’ve done this sooner.” Just as the coil in your lower stomach tightens, Joel takes his hand back. 
You push yourself off of him, staring at him with an expression you know he’ll consider pouting. “Why’d you--” 
“Because I want you to remember this.” He pushes you back to the wall, pressing his body against you. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance. With no warning, he pushes into you. Your sharp gasp overlaps with Joel’s low groan. “Y’need a man to fuck the attitude out of you.” He moves slowly, the friction unbelievably overwhelming and somehow not enough. “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with you.” 
Joel presses you further into the wall, sinking into you as deep as possible before pulling out just to sink back in. His pace is even until his breathing picks up. You’re a mess against him, hiding your face in his chest when he starts fucking you with full force.
“You’re squeezing me so good.” Joel practically pants the words into your skin. “Fuck, ‘m going to--you gonna finish with me, sweetheart?” 
Your mind is mush, you can barely nod against him as his thrusts start to lose their focus. You’re pushed over the edge as Joel’s teeth graze against your neck. He pulls at your orgasm, dragging it along until your legs are jelly and he’s pulling out in order to not finish inside you. 
The two of you stay holding onto each other for what feels like a long time and not enough. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, okay?”
You pull your head off of him enough to look him in the eye. “Not without you.” 
He smiles, lines that you can imagine kissing forever etching themselves into his skin. “That’s my girl.” Joel runs a hand up and down your back fondly. “Let’s go to bed,” he presses a kiss against your jaw, “Give me the space to properly appreciate you.”
The thought makes your body burn all over again. “You sure you aren’t tired out, old man?” 
Joel huffs out what’s almost a laugh, “We’ll see who’s tiring who out, sweetheart.” 
4K notes · View notes
revasserium · 2 months
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18 and 28 from promp list 1 with zayne? :>
send me a number + a character and i'll write u a drabble
18. afterglow + 28. cliche of the morning after (take two)
zayne; 1,209 words; fluff, fem!reader, zayn!branded banter, very very vague allusions to top!zayne, whipped!zayne
summary: the morning after, with zayne.
a/n: zayne is not so secretly a simp. no further comments at this time.
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It is often in the moments after, in the liquid exhale of skin on skin, the dissipating heat of body against body — this is when Zayne thinks he sees you most clearly. Faintly, he wonders if he could count every single point of contact between you — your ankles hooked over his (one), your calves pressed together (two), the delicate softness of your hip beneath his palm (three), the weight of your cheek pillowed on his arm (four).
He watches the moth-wing flutter of your lashes as your eyes flicker open to meet his, the petal-sweet spread of your smile as you crinkle your nose and lean in to bury your face in his chest with a groan.
“You’re staring again.”
Your voice is muffled; he feels it vibrating through his skin.
Zayne drops a kiss into your hair as he loops his arms around you.
“Am I not allowed?”
You shake your head, pressing ever closer even as he chuckles, letting his fingers trail through your silken hair, amusing himself with tugging on the ends.
“Feels weird.”
“Does it?” he asks.
You pull back to peer up at him, and he feels himself falling into the galaxies caught behind your eyes, and yes, isn’t it a cliche to fall for a girl like this? To compare her eyes to the light of distant stars, to find her shadow and shade in every flower petal, her voice in every rustle of tree branches, and the chiming of silver bells.
Yes, he thinks — it is.
But he has long since given up trying to rationalize the way you make him feel, ever since you were both children, and he’d imagined what it might feel to someday hold more of you than your hand.
Here, now — with your body pressed to his, Zayne can’t help but wonder at all the parts of you he’s always had — not the bare skin of your waist or the heat caught behind the line of your teeth but other things. The tiny scar on your right elbow (five), the curve of your knee hard against his own (six), the baby’s breath of hair at the nape of your neck that always curled and would never stay in braids the way you liked (seven) —
“Zayne?” your voice is small.
“Hm?”
“What are you thinking about? You look so serious.”
Zayne blinks. He wonders if he should tell you about his thoughts, about how there’s not a moment in the day when he’s not thinking about you. About how he wonders if you’re eating, sleeping, if you’re safe. About how sometimes it keeps him up at night when he thinks about the mortality rates of Hunters, of the unknown, unnamed dangers that await you out there, all the things he can’t protect you from.
He wonders if he should tell you that he spends too long thinking of you — of your body and the way it fits so perfectly inside his arms. Of how the last time he held you in his arms, it took everything in him to let you go, set you down on his office sofa, and watch you as your breaths evened out.
So he says, “Nothing…” so he says, “just… thinking about what to make for breakfast.”
He doesn’t tell you that he’s kept your favorite brand of toothpaste in his bathroom for the past several years, or how he’s always got a drawer full of clothes that he knows you like to wear tucked into his closet.
“Oh! What about pancakes? Or… French Toast?”
Your smile is bright and happy and Zayne can’t help the way he leans down to brush his lips against yours. He savors in the way you gasp and soften against him. He lingers too long on how the smooth of your leg slots so perfectly between his.
“Whichever you feel like more,” he says, pulling back to smile down at you, taking note of the brilliant blush that has since settled across your cheeks.
“What if… I say I want both?”
Zayne lets out a sigh, chuckling as he fixes you with a look.
Want. He wonders if you truly know the depths and width of wanting the way he does — and if you’d still want to stay when you did find out.
Instead, he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours, reaching up to cup your cheek in his palm.
“Then… I’ll make both.”
“Really?”
You sound too surprised, too pleased.
“But we’ll have to eat healthier for lunch and dinner.”
You crinkle your nose, “But we’ve been so healthy all week!”
Zayne watches you pout for a moment longer before he sighs and pulls back ever so slightly, casting his eyes at the ceiling, letting out a contemplative hum.
“Or, we can go to the gym.”
He knows exactly the face you’re making before he ever looks over to see you make it, and allows himself a small laugh.
“Ugh, you’re no fun.”
“No?” Zayne turns and you go still next to him, eyes wide as he pins you with a look. He watches with a muted satisfaction as color creeps into your cheeks and you blink, attempting to backtrack.
“That’s not — I mean —”
In a single move, he has you pinned beneath him, both your wrists caught in one of his hands, pinned above your head so that you’re stretched out beneath him. He watches as you tug weakly against his hold before going still, blinking up at him from beneath your thick lashes.
“Though…. I suppose there are other ways of burning calories that might be of more interest to you than going to the gym.”
He keeps his voice level, his expression blank. But he counts the quickening pace of your breath, and sees the darkening of your eyes as your pupils dilate.
“Z-Zayne…”
“Didn’t you say you wanted both pancakes and French Toast?” he leans down with a light smile, casually stroking a finger along the line of your cheek.
“Yes but —”
“But?”
You bite your lips, shifting beneath him. And like this, he can’t help the baser, more carnal parts of him as they threaten to take over his senses. Not with you spread out beneath him like this, so tantalizing in your willingness, so defiant and shy all at once.
“You’ll… really make both for me?”
Zayne almost laughs, nodding as he bends down to press a long kiss to your lips, groaning as your hips roll up into his at the sweep of his tongue along your teeth.
“If you’re good.”
You nod, eyes wide and already misted over, “I — I’ll be good.”
Zayne nods once before he tugs the rest of the blankets from you, letting the hunger crest up and through him as he coos by your ear —
“Good… that’s a good girl for me.”
He does end up making both pancakes and French Toast for you in the end. Though, by the time that happens, it’s much too far past noon for either of you to call it breakfast any longer.
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oncasette · 9 months
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𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔
ok theseus request!!!!! what about some hurt/comfort, maybe him reacting to you crying? + [ CUP ]:  bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face. (I feel like this prompt fits the scenario perfectly so yeah <3)
𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥
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summary: 1.7k
It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 
or the three times theseus asked you to move in with him and the one time you asked.
warnings: implied smut
masterlist | taglist
Moving in with Theseus hadn’t been your idea. It’d been his. Totally, completely, and unarguably his idea. One he’d spent weeks, at this point, convincing you to go through with. An idea you’d initially been so adamant about turning down. But he was nothing if not persistent. 
He’d presented you with a key the first night he’d asked. Just a key, warm from where he’d kept it in his coat pocket pressed tight against his chest over the course of his work day. He’d dug it out of the jacket that had been hastily tossed off to the floor near the side of the bed when you’d nearly jumped his bones after he’d apparated back to his flat. You’d already been home–his home, that is–snuggled up in his bed with a cup of tea and a sleep shirt he’d had since his seventh year. 
“What’s this?” you asked as he’d handed it to you. His hands shook, and he’d been grateful you failed to make a comment on it. 
“A key,” he hummed as you took it. 
“But… Thes, I already have a key to your place?” Your eyebrows knitted across your forehead as your statement quirked into a question. 
“I know,” he said. “My lease comes up in a month and I…”
You brought a hand up to the side of his jaw, urging him to continue as his lips pressed kisses to your palm. 
“I know yours does, too. A week after mine, but I was hoping you’d think about letting it.”
It’s a wonder it hadn’t clicked for you yet. His beautiful, bright girl that amazed him every day, who was making him spell out this question for her, letter by letter, while his heart threatened to give out in his chest. 
“Letting it do what?” you asked. 
“Run out,” he exhaled. Merlin, his lungs felt heavy. 
“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you asked, hand dropping to your side as you sat up fully. You brought the top sheet with you, covering the skin Theseus had spent the last hour and a half marking with his teeth. His eyes burned as he followed your movement and leaned his back against the headboard. 
“I’d been trying to, yes,” he said. 
“Don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know,” you swallowed, throat dry with a lack of an answer. “Fast?”
“Love, we’ve been together for nearly two years. I thought–”
He’d been cut off with your legs being thrown over the edge of the bed, feet scrambling to hold your body up as your hands reached for the clothes you’d been wearing earlier in the evening. 
“I can’t.” With your eyes screwed shut, you tugged your slip back up over your body and crossed the room to grab the shirt you’d come to his flat in–not the one of his you’d been wearing when he’d come home, a sight that has his jaw aching. It’d taken you a minute longer to find your wand, white knuckling it as you pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s hairline. You were gone within the minute, with the key left at the foot of the bed.
He hadn’t even had the chance to move from the spot you’d left him in. 
He’d left it alone enough after that, though his heart had ached each time his hand passed over the weight of the key he still kept in his pocket. 
The second time he’d asked–more insinuated, this time–had been at breakfast two weeks later, thankfully, in a less vulnerable state of dress. 
“I saw the flat yesterday,” he said, though his eyebrows were raised with the hint that there was more lingering under that statement than you’d wanted. “Unfurnished, that is. I saw it a couple weeks ago when I bought it and everything, but I saw it for the first time since I’d signed the lease on it yesterday.”
“Theseus.”
“Look, I know. I know.” He drew his fist tight as he inhaled. “I know you think it’s too fast, darling.”
“Then why are you doing this?” you asked. 
You weren’t even sure why you were fighting it this hard at this point anymore. It was all you’d thought about since he’d asked the first time. And you weren’t going to lie, you’d warmed to the idea. Not that you were ready to admit that, apparently.
He brought your hand up to gently lay kisses on your knuckles. “Just come see it with me, yeah?”
You offered him a pointed look. “Don’t have to make any snap decisions,” he assured you. “Even though I’m desperately hoping that you will.”
“Okay,” you whispered.
“Okay?”
“I’ll go look at the flat with you,” you said. 
He’d been so eager, the smile he’d given you had been enough to allow him to convince you to stop by the next morning. 
It was a lovely flat, honestly. It had a kitchen large enough to house an island, a bedroom much bigger than you’d been anticipating, and a view that had you fully leaning out the window to get a better look at. And, it was a five minute walk away from your office. A fact Theseus had mentioned thirty seconds into your initial walkthrough. A walkthrough that had unsurprisingly consisted of all the reasons Theseus had picked the place. Or, better worded, all the reasons Theseus thought the place would be a perfect fit for you. For the both of you. 
“The living room’s the perfect size for your couch, you know. I was thinking you’d want to bring it along if you ever ended up here since you spent so long picking it out and everything…”
“Thes, it’s beautiful. It really is,” you said, stepping closer to him as you watched the corners of his lips twitch into a grin. 
He fully bridged the gap then, hands falling to your hips to tug you into his chest. “So?”
“I’ll think about it,” you hummed and he leaned down to kiss you fully. 
“Improvement,” he said. “I’ll take it.”
The next couple days had been a constant barrage of dropped hints. It felt like you’d been suffocated beneath the weight of the question, one that hadn’t been asked in its entirety since that first night. 
He’d been halfway through one of his… less subtle hints when you snapped. All you’d wanted was time. A bit of time. A tiny, miniature, speck of time to organize your thoughts, and he’d given you just short of what you’d needed. 
The key had been dangling from his fingers, for Merlin’s sake, and it took all the strength in your body not to snatch it out of his hands and throw it out the window of your own flat, the one the two of you were currently curled up in. 
“Stop it!” you spat. “I said I would think about it, right. I can’t think about anything with the way you’re keeping this up.”
He stalled, fingers wrapping around the gold key to hide it from view. His jaw snapped closed as your own clenched. 
“I’m sorry, I just…” you sighed. 
“No, I get it. I’ll give you some more time,” he said, a crack of thunder in the distance rumbling overhead as you watched him pull away from you to gather the few belongings he’d brought with him. 
He left with little more than a muttered goodbye as he slipped out the door. Not even a kiss, one you’d been hopeful enough to think would come despite your current situation. 
It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 
You knock on the door with feeble fingers, toes curling in your shoes as your socks meld to the skin of your feet. You wait a minute. Two minutes, nearly three before he throws open the door with only a pair of trousers on. 
“What are you-” he cuts himself off. “My love, are you crying?”
You barely manage out a shake of your head, a piss poor attempt at a lie, as a shiver rumbles through your torso. 
“Come here, come inside,” he steps aside enough to let you in. He shuts the door once you’re inside, immediately tugging you into his chest where the warmth of his skin does wonders to calm the tremors wracking through you. Both of his hands come up to cup your cheeks, drawing your face into his direct gaze no matter how much you want to shove your nose into his neck and hide from his worrying eyes. 
“What is it, darling?” His eyes scan your face as his hands hold the weight of your head up under your jaw. His thumb clears a tear off your cheek before it has the chance to fall. “C’mon, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Please let me live with you,” you sniffle, hands coming up to grasp at the waistband of his pants. The way you’re clinging to him feels desperate, like he’d slip away if you managed to let go. 
“What?”
“I’m so sorry I let it go on this long. I’m sorry I ever made you think I don’t want this, want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you sob. “Please let me live with you.”
“I thought you wanted-”
“I thought I did, too,” you hiccup, and Theseus has to fight to hide the smile that’s working its way up his face. “But, then I realized what I really wanted was you. This. All of you.”
“You have me. You’ve always had me darling, promise,” he says. “And obviously I want you to live with me… but are you sure?”
You nod. 
“I need to hear you say it, lovely. You’ve kind of been fighting me on this since day one,” he says. “I’m sure,” you say. 
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promptsh20 · 4 months
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@promptsh20 brings you:
“This…might be love at first sight for me.” A strangers to lovers prompt list.
Unintentionally locking eyes at an event so much that it’s almost comical, if not embarrassing.
Both of them meeting somewhere once, than continuously running into each other after.
“Listen, how about you give me your number? I really want to keep talking, It’s just…I ran three blocks to catch you and I’m gonna be late for work.”
Holding each other’s hands longer than necessary during an introductory handshake, categorizing it as being polite and not deeply enamoured.
“It’s you again!” “It’s me.”
The weirdest feeling that they can tell each other anything after finding out the other existed moments ago.
One asking the other for directions somewhere only to find out that they both are going to the same place.
“Hi, has anyone told you I’ve been looking for you?” “No…you were looking for me?” “Yeah, your not easy to find by the way.”
When one finds the other at a low point or at their worst upon first meeting and just, wants to help them. It’s not something that could ever be explained reasonably, just a sudden sense of this person needs me.
One going to a new place and seeing the other then returning filled with anticipation to see them again, while the other awaits their return.
“Do you feel what I’m feeling? Or am I crazy?” “No, your not crazy.”
Passing each other on the street then sharing awkward smiles over the shoulder after having done an absolutely shameless double take on one another.
One buying the other their exact drink order at a café and having it sent to their seat, enjoying the way other’s eyes search for them in the shop.
“It’s good to see you again.”
After meeting each other, they frequently find the topic of soulmates crossing their minds.
Both of them touching hands after reaching for the same book in a bookshop, locking eyes instead, before dropping hands.
“Let’s exchange contact info okay? I can’t lose you again.”
One moving or guiding the other out of the way of something then apologizing, unable to explain the way it felt so natural them.
Hesitant with their true first impressions of each other in respect of the possible partners or relationships the other may have or be in.
“So, do you always hang out here?” “Nah, I was just hoping I’d see you again.”
A minuscule glimpse of the colour they last saw the other in causing their heart to thunder inside their chest. Suddenly their shirt choice and hair state is vital, if it’s them, they want to be recognizable, like the first time.
“I want you to know me.”
Finally accepting that they might never see each other again despite hitting it off immediately, only for both of them to be unknowingly involved in something together the next day leaving both pleasantly surprised.
Being so caught up in each other that they exchange numbers and only realizing later they hadn’t even shared names.
“How about this, you come by my work later. We’ll talk a little bit and you’ll brighten up my day. Sounds like a win win hm?”
One returning to the spot they’d first met the other day in hopes that they’ll be lucky, and the other will show up in their life again.
When exchanging names feels like completing a part of a puzzle, because it’s not what they imagined for the other but better, it fits them perfectly.
“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk with you again with how we met.” “I know, I don’t plan on wasting it this time.”
Both of them asking everyone about the other at an event. The contents of the questions mainly concerning if the other is single or seeing anyone.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever and we just met today.”
Wishing that they could both fit everything they need to know about each other in the few minutes that they have together.
Other again despite hitting it off immediately, only for both of them to be unknowingly involved in something together the next day leaving both pleasantly surprised.
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movidita · 4 months
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You were so sweet.
Constantly looking to please everyone else— specifically the older men who had shown up to your daddy’s barn just a few days ago, three in particular.
Two officers and an archer.
Putting on your sweetest smile, bringing fresh lemonade and platters of fruit out. Offering a hand wherever you could fit it.
God, how eager you were to please.
And it wasn’t like they didn’t know it. Taking full advantage of the fact they could bend you to their will and render you all flustered with just a few of their sweet words.
Your three favourite pieces of eye candy working out by the barn. Hammering pieces of wood, heavy lifting with those arms, those arms that had you weak at the knees and a shy crinkle in your forehead.
Currently preparing them lunch. Bacon sandwiches and three cold crisp beers you’d stolen from your father’s cabinet.
Making your way over to them, cowboy boots pattering against the earth. Sundress flowing in the breeze, your hair secured tightly with a pale pink bow and a basket of sandwiches on one arm whilst the other struggled to hold three bottles in one hand.
Shane’s eyes lit up when he saw you, catching the attention of the other two as he straightened up from his position, leaning on the truck.
“Heya, sunshine.”
You smiled politely at the three. “Hi, I brought lunch!”
Passing them all a beer and setting down the basket on top of the trucks hood.
Daryl grunted in thanks, the first to reach over and grab his food. However, Rick just looked down at you, a cocky smirk on his face. “Didn’t have to do all this.”
Your smile only grew, “Well, Daddy said you’d be getting hungry ‘bout now. Figured it’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for us.”
His arm made its way around your shoulders, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, sweetheart.”
“No worries.” Your small hand wrapped around his wrist that was drooped over your shoulder, “I do hope you like them, used the last of the bacon.”
“For us?” Shane replied, taking a bite out of the perfectly cut triangle.
You giggle, nervous under their gazes, “Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”
The men took in your appearance. All farmer’s daughter looking. Plump lips, glistening with whatever gloss you’d put on. Your yellow sundress that stopped just above your knees, straps loose around your chest, beads of sweat coating your cleavage under the intense heat. Cowboy boots and that dainty bow— you sure fit the part.
You stayed with them for a while. Now propped up on the hood of the truck, swinging your legs back and forth. Gawking at the men as they worked. Sipping on one of the three’s beers every so often. Silently praying the trees gave you enough cover and your father couldn’t see your antics.
The fact they were working shirtless had your arousal pooling in your panties. Squishing your thighs together as you did your best to maintain calm.
But, fuck, those arms.
Every second became increasingly harder. Sipping and sipping, trying to distract yourself from the three older men.
The sun was starting to set. A faint orange painting the farm.
You were a little more than tipsy now, giggling at yourself, head tipping forward.
Hoping down off the truck. Almost tripping over your own two feet.
“Careful there, don’t wanna land on that pretty face.” Shane smirked, helping you stay upright as you adjusted yourself.
“Been drinking our beer, sweetheart?” Rick questioned, approaching your side and smirking down at you. Fully aware you had been drinking, the entire time. The way they’d look back every few minutes, taking in your giggling form atop their truck.
You fake a frown, “Nope.”
Daryl threw the last piece of wood to the pile, “What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, huh?”
Your eyes widen, dreading the fact you’d have to sneak past him when you returned inside. “Righttt, Daddy.” Your words slurred with a dopey smirk on your face.
The men knew they couldn’t just send you back inside, giggly and stumbling. They’d be kicked out the second your father found out they had let you drink.
“Want some water?” Rick questioned, leading you away from the barn and towards the sea of tents adorning the farm land.
You hiccup, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
Shane scoffed from the other side of you. “Wasn’t aware you were such a big drinker.”
“‘M not.”
He let out a laugh at that, taking in the sight of your half-hearted pulling your feet along and holding onto Rick in order to stay upright.
They led you over to Daryl’s tent as it was the farthest away from the group. Sitting you down on a log and passing over a bottle of water. It was late now, majority in bed, including your father. You figured it would be easy to get inside unnoticed.
“Drink up, girl.”
You huff, “Want to take my boots off. . .”
Daryl rolled his eyes, entering his tent and zipping it up. Clearly not in the mood to deal with a mumbling mess.
“Take ‘em off then.”
Instead of removing them yourself, you stuck your feet out in front of Rick, gesturing for him to pull them off for you. In which he did, of course. Crouching to your level and carefully slipping your feet out. Revealing the white frilly socks you had on underneath.
He set the boots down beside you.
“And the socks.” You hiccup, “Can’t walk across the field in white socks!”
He smiled at you, “Course you can’t.” Rick removed your socks, tucking them into your shoes and standing to his full height.
His hands gripped yours, pulling you up and directing you towards your house. “You gotta be quiet, okay?”
You nodded, holding onto his arm as he led you. One of his arms around your waist and the other holding your cowboy boots.
You eventually reached the porch, Shane disappearing to his tent on the way there, Rick had said something about him being able to get you there just fine and he should just head to bed. Shane grumbled but complied with the man.
Now it was just you and Rick. He practically pushed you up the stairs as you did your best to spend as much time as you could with the officer.
Stopping in the hallways to giggle at framed pictures of you and your sisters. The man couldn’t hold back his smile, despite him wanting you to shut up, he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing you so smiley and relaxed in comparison to your usual desire to be perfect.
“Come on, sweetheart, quiet down.”
The two of you finally reached your bedroom after all your stumbles and slurred words.
When Rick opened your room, he wasn’t surprised to be met with such pink. Pink, flowery bedsheets. Tulips in every corner of your room. Your vanity was adorned by many trinkets and items he had never heard of. Heart-shaped pillows, and what stuck out the most— a pile of discarded clothes on the floor by the window. A plain white dress and a pair of pink lace panties.
He gulped, averting his eyes and leading you over to the bed. Trying to push away the thoughts of you, you wearing just those panties, you without the panties. He’s a sick man, he thought. You were much younger than him, you were his host's daughter. He couldn’t do that.
Rick carefully laid you down, pulling the blanket over your body. “On your side, okay? Don’t wanna choke on your own vomit, yeah?”
You were practically asleep the second your head hit the pillow, mumbling something incoherent as you drifted off.
He smiled down at you. Staring for a few seconds, just taking in the peaceful look on your face for the first time today.
(was originally going to be rick, shane and daryl but i didn’t really know how to write for three so it ended up being rick butttt i could do some other parts with the other two if anyone would like)
part two
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readychilledwine · 5 months
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hi, would it he okay to request one where it’s reader x azriel and they’ve been struggling with fertility/getting pregnant. And after a while reader finds out she’s not only pregnant but with triplets😭😭 and they’re all crying happy tears together sith the ic and celebrate😭😍
I was struggling with fertility and finally got pregnant after so long and I couldn’t be happier, so seeing dad az would be so amazing, but I read ur latest post so if it’s a lot then please feel free to ignore ❤️❤️
No. This is perfect. I can do this. 💙💙
Azriel Week Day 6 Prompt - Past and Future - Threefold
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Summary - After years of trying and unsuccessful attempts, you and Azriel finally receive everything you've asked and prayed for threefold.
Warnings - high-risk pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic), babies, illusions to miscarriages, inferred toll of pregnancy on mental health (its hard.)
A/n - this fit too perfectly for @azrielappreciationweek dad Az is my favorite to write as a father simply because his inner child deserves to heal 💜
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Madja and Rhys held your upper body as another bout of sickness ripped through your stomach. You hadn't felt right for several days now. You were exhausted and irritable, and lately, nothing has stayed down.
Rhys pulled your hair back, rubbing small circles into your back. "I can call for Azriel, y/n," he offered again. "He's only doing some follow up things in Windhaven. There are no new issues."
Madja looked at the High Lord. Calling for him silently in her mind. It was clear to the healer what was going on, and she wanted you on bed arrest immediately. You and Azriel had been trying and struggling to have a babe for years. She inclined her head to Rhys, motioning for him to follow her.
"She's pregnant," she boldly said. "The scent is faint, meaning it's early, but her morning sickness indicates multiples." Rhysand's face fell, joy, happiness, fear, sadness all washing over him. You and Azriel were the last of the circle without children.
He and Feyre had 4, Cassian and Nesta had 2, Lucien and Elain had 2. Even Mor and Armen had adopted children. But you and Azriel? You had been trying for years now, and unsuccessful attempt after attempt had led to you two in long fights, heartache, and emotional turmoil.
"Were they even trying?"
Madja nodded at the question. "We tried one last alternative method. It was very painful for her. That's why I need you to command her to bedrest, Rhysand. For them."
The High Lord reentered the bathroom, gently picking you up after you finished brushing your teeth and began the pathway to your room. "You're done working for today. I'm calling for Azriel." Madja opened the door for him, watching as he gently set you down on the soft sheets and blankets you had already started subconsciously nesting with. "You will not leave this bed unless one of us is here with you."
The Riverhouse set food and water on the table, indicatine needed you needed to eat. "Madja, what's going on?"
The old healer looked at you. "I'll be able to give you a better answer once Azriel is here and I examine you."
Azriel flew hard. Not wanting to be away a single second longer after Rhysand's urgent message. He landed with a thud, and instantly went into Rhysand's office where he and Cassian sat in silence. "Where is she? What's wrong?"
Rhys motioned for him to sit and Cassian handed him the whiskey he was nursing. Rhys sighed, "She's pregnant. Madja thinks there's multiple. You're both done. You will distribute your missions until further notice and stay with your mate." Rhys paused as Azriel threw back the expensive whiskey. "Madja is with her and waiting for you for the exam."
You were laid back, Azriel holding your soft hand in his scarred ones near his mouth as he kissed each knuckle. Madja was glowing, hands over your abdomen. You watched her mouth twitch and Rhysand stop pacing in the corner before he started to just laugh. "You are indeed pregnant, my dear. With three healthy developing children. Maybe 6 weeks." Azriel's face fell first, looking at Rhysand in panic. "I will leave you two with your High Lord. He is aware of my opinion given your history." Madja left the from gracefully, a firm smile cemented on her face as she walked into the hallway where the Inner Circle waited.
Rhysand moved to the foot of the bed, leaned on the post as he looked between you and Azriel. "You're on bed rest. You will not leave this bed or go anywhere alone. No training. No long walks. No long trips into town. We," he motioned between himself and Azriel, "will set the nursery. You, my dearest y/n, will no longer lift a damn finger." Azriel had not moved, his eyes locked on you. Rhys took the silent message, leaving the room as Azriel moved onto the bed with you, his mouth immediately on yours as that dam broke and tears began to fall.
"3?" He asked in shock, a hand going to your stomach. "And 6 weeks? You're already to where-"
"I know," you interrupted softly. "If we can make it 2 more weeks, it'll be the furthest we've made it." Azriel's hand tilted your head to his, and he kissed you softly.
Azriel paused. "Rhys is asking Madja if she'd be willing to stay here with her own chambers. They're also all setting up a rotation to ensure one of them is always with us."
You nodded, hand going over his to rest on your stomach. "3."
"3," he whispered back.
6 weeks passed without complications. At, 12 weeks and you were halfway to that safe period Madja had promised. The healer had her hand over your stomach, glowing in her magic and happiness.
"Such healthy little heartbeats." You felt Azriel's body language relax and his hand gently squeeze yours. "Everything looks very healthy so far. I will not lift the bedrest, though."
You looked at Azriel, silently pleading for him to advocate for you and were met with a soft apologetic gaze. "No," he commanded softly. "You stay here. I stay here. We stay here." House arrest, bed rest, that was the only issue so far. You were used to your work, to running daily, to anything but this. Madja left with a small smile as Azriel whispered thank you, and you began to cry. "I know, my love-"
"No you don't. You do not know what it's like to be trapped here. I can't even go outside without Rhys or Cassian appearing out of fucking no where. I miss the sun, the grass." You took a deep breath. "I am confined to this house and it's many walls for the well being of our babies. I understand that, but what about my well being, Azriel? What about my mental health?"
Azriel looked down, your normally selfless mate. "I'm sorry, y/n, but until I know something as simple as laying in the sun won't hurt them, I will support you being in the home, maintaining low stress levels. I will see if I can find a compromise. Perhaps an atrium? I know you've always wanted one."
You woke up to that the very next day, Azriel, Rhys, Lucien, and Cassian were all shirtless with other workers. A room facing your favorite garden had been wrecked, the furniture all moved. They had started at sunrise and at nightfall it stopped. Between magic, skills, and your husband refusing a break, you had a skylit atrium. Rhysand moved to you, covered in dirt and sweat, tilting your chin to place a small kiss on your temple, then Cassian, then Lucien, the last leaving his hand ok your already large stomach for a little while with a happy smile.
Azriel was moving the furniture back, shadows assisting every step of the way. He finally entered the room, lifting you gently from the chair you were reading in, and placing you in the lounging couch he had moved into the full glass room.
"Az-"
"I love you," he interrupted. "And I'm sorry you're having to make this sacrifice for us and our family, but please know I love you. Please know I am just worried. We've lost so much, too many already. Please, y/n, meet me here. Let this be our common ground until Madja says otherwise."
You had no choice but to nod, eyes locked on the beautiful night sky you had not seen in what felt like months. "I'm hungry." Azriel smiled at the statement. His eyes lit up as he felt your gentle caving down the bond. "Could you perhaps bathe and feed me? Maybe out here?" Azriel nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss.
Before you blinked, your third trimester was half way over, and suddenly bedrest was all you could think about. You were uncomfortable, large, constantly feeling as if the babes were using you as a personal playground. You and the Twins were in the kitchen when it happened, tight pain shot through your stomach and wetness came, your hand flew to Cerridwen and she supported you immediately, screaming for Madja as she moved you to sit.
The next several hours blurred together. Rhysand appearing and having Cassian help him carry you to a tub per Madja's request. Him holding your mind as he apologized over and over.
It made sense that this was happening now. The one time there was a mission that required Azriel. The one time he was in the Mortal Lands, having to spy on the Queen furthest from your home. Rhysand held your hand through the process, Cassian helping support your body as every inch of you felt like giving up and going out.
Until that first scream came. That first wail of life. That first tiny little body handled to one of the twins, small perfect wings intact. "Push, y/n," Rhys whispered softly. "They need their siblings." It could have been but moments, possibly hours. You didn't know. But a second cry came followed by the door slamming open and Azriel running to your side, allowing Rhysand to move and help with the babes.
"I'm so sorry," you kept saying, guilt hitting you at his bittersweet joy of missing two of the babes being born. "I-"
"It's okay. I'm here for this one." Azriel kissed your temple. "Two have wings, my love. You are doing so well."
The third cry came soon after, your body wanting to be done before finally giving out as Azriel and Cassian waited for Madja to heal you the best she could. She nodded and they removed you from the tub, body absolute done as you rested in Azriel's chest.
Cassian had gone to the babes, his excitement too heavy. Soon the whole Inner Circle and Nyx sat in the room, waiting for Madja to begin the announcements. She walked one of the babies to you, "First Born, winged, healthy weight for a triplet. Boy." Azriel stilled, his grip on your hand tightening.
Rhys walked the second over, a familiar soft look in his eyes, "Second born, winged, also healthy and hungry. Boy."
Cassian was sobbing holding his little bundle, looking at Azriel and then nodding. Your mate's dam broke, handing you the two sons instantly and reaching for the baby Cassian had. "Third born. Wingless for now, we all know that won't be the case forever, though. A little smaller than Madja would like. Girl."
Azriel held her close, his eyes locked on her perfect little face as tears fell. "You promised," he reminded you gently. You were too busy, admiring your boys to even respond. They were holding hands, both searching for their sister. "Y/n."
You broke your stare, brows knit in confusion. "They're your lineage, Azriel. You know you have last say in their names." Madja and the Inner Circle now stood closer as Azriel studied the babes one by one, never letting go of his daughter.
"Ophelia," he handed her gently to you. "After my mother." He took one of the boys, stroking his little cheek softly. He was holding the second born, who was wearing a serious pout. The was the largest of the three, little wings trying to stretch already on his back. "Ramiel. Because I have a gut feeling." Nyx laughed gently, silently asking to take his cousin and get him situated for a bottle. Azriel gave him to his nephew, a look of warning on his face. He took the oldest, who immediately took a scarred finger into his tiny hands. "Opinions, love," he asked you before realizing you were feeding your daughter. "She just decided to latch on there, huh?"
"Pretty much," you looked at your oldest son, the second smallest. Face all smiles. "Arnan," you looked to Armen. "After his aunt who found the method that brought them into the world." She was at Azriel's side immediately, taking the babe from him without him even putting up a fight.
*3 months later*
You and Azriel sat in the nursery. The boys in his arms, feeding softly from bottles, your daughter in yours breastfeeding. Figuring out a schedule to ensure all of them breastfed once or twice a day had been difficult but the routine was easy now. Ophelia slept best through the night after skin to skin and breastfeeding. Arnan was less fussy in the mornings when his breakfast came directly from you. Ramiel napped better after an afternoon breast feeding. "They're holding their heads up so well," Azriel cooed. "My strong boys." He was a male obsessed and in love. He was frequently out your shared bed at night, and you'd find him, sleeping with all three of them on his broad bare chest in the nursery. He was the perfect father despite not having an example of how to be one.
"I think our sweet girl will get there soon," you kept watch on her, holding her little hand as she reached for you. "We're just a Danity little thing, though so Heaven forbid daddy has to carry and coddle us more." You teased them both as Azriel's jaw dropped.
"I can't help it, love. Look at her, look at those eyes, that nose, her little smile. I'll carry her to Spring and back by foot." He stood, burping both of the boys and laid them in their cribs before coming to sit in front of his girl. "I want her when you're done."
"You say that until they poop."
"They're so warm and happy after breastfeedings, y/n." He watched as she unlatched by choice, reaching for her father's familiar voice and he took her. "And her belly is all full. And she's so happy. My little star. The perfect ending to our family's constellation." He walked her to her crib, continuing to coo her. "All of my little stars," he turned their mobiles on, watching as they all slowly shut their eyes and then walked to you.
He left the door open a crack, escorting you to your adjoining bedroom. Once inside he kissed you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he did, and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you."
"I love you too. Let's go to bed. Please. They hardly napped at all today. Nyx got them that damn toy and I am still deciding if our nephew gets to live." Azriel laughed quietly, moving to the bed with a hand holding yours. "Perhaps tonight you could stay here."
He paused, staring at you as he pulled the blanket over you two. "I don't know what you're talking about." His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I always stay the night here."
You kissed his hand. "Of course you do, Azzie. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, y/n."
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theostrophywife · 10 months
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here in your arms.
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author's note: couldn't resist writing for my little foxy boy. this is the twin to this request.
eris preferred to sleep alone.
at least, he used to. when it came to his bedchambers, the autumn court heir abided by one simple rule: he could invite whomever he pleased to bed, but they were not to overstay their welcome by any means. it was a good rule and one that he had upheld for centuries. until you came along.
eris wasn’t even sure how it happened. the most likely scenario was that the two of you had stumbled into his bed after a night of drinking and debauchery, taunting and teasing one another as you were wont to do. you were the one person at court whose sarcasm rivaled his own. ever since you where children, you had kept eris on his toes with your sharp wit and fiery personality. you challenged him and though he'd never admit it, the future high lord was absolutely soft for you.
perhaps that was why he hadn’t objected when you had fallen asleep on his bed, blankets greedily wrapped around you while you cuddled with his favorite pillow. you looked so serene laying there, still dressed in your ridiculous ball gown with your hair loose and unbound, fanning around you like a waterfall and framing that beautiful face eris had come to memorize.
he had simply crawled in beside you, his eyes heavy from the alcohol and his thoughts flowing like honey. the last thing he remembered was your hand reaching for his, weaving your fingers together.
the autumn court heir convinced himself that it would only be that one exception, but then he laid in bed the next night, tossing and turning. unable to sleep without the warmth of your body next to his or the soft breaths that lulled him into sweet dreams or the way that you reached for him even when you were unconscious.
he thought he could will it away. eris had survived centuries sleeping alone, so there was no reason for him to suddenly crave a bedside companion. he didn't need anyone to cuddle with. night after night, that's what he told himself. until two days passed, then three. finally after an entire week of fitful sleep, eris admitted the plain, ugly truth to himself.
you had utterly and completely ruined the male.
so he pushed aside all of his pride and walked to the other end of the forest house where your bedchambers were located. you had opened the door to find the rumpled, weary redhead glaring at you with accusation.
"what have you done to me, woman?"
you yawned, pulling your robe on tightly. "i have various schemes and plots against you at the moment, so you'll have to be more specific than that, pumpkin."
eris sighed exasperatedly and marched right into your suite. you shut the door behind him, watching with an amused smile as your friend paced in front of the hearth. "yes, eris why don't you come on in. it's not like you were interrupting my sleep or anything. of course, midnight is a perfectly reasonable time to drop in unannounced."
the eldest vanserra rolled his eyes. "i can't sleep!" he whirled around, folding his arms in a regal, yet disdainful way. "and it's your fault. it's been an entire week and i cannot take it any longer."
"and how, pray tell, is your sudden bout of insomnia my doing?"
"because," eris stated matter-of-factly, "ever since that night that you fell asleep in my bed, i haven't been able to get your damned lily soap scent out of my sheets. my room is too quiet without your obnoxious little snores and my legs are perpetually warm without you pressing those frozen icicles you call feet against them."
"let me get this straight," you said with a snort. "you marched all the way across the forest house, just to insult my soap, my snoring, and my cold feet."
"as future high lord, i am allowed to voice my displeasure with court subjects."
"as your loyal subject, i am also allowed to tell you to kindly fuck off."
eris bit back a smile. "i'm being serious, y/n. i cannot lose any more of my beauty sleep. it is absolutely maddening."
you rolled your eyes. "then stop being an insufferable twat and sleep with me."
the redhaired male opened his mouth for another snarky retort, but you merely tugged him towards the bed. you peeled back the covers and gestured for eris to make himself comfortable. he did so, albeit looking a bit peaked as you slipped in beside him.
“oh, you look positively virginal eris.” you said with a chuckle. “fret not pumpkin, i have no plans on ravishing you. now come cuddle before i come to my senses and send your sorry arse back.”
eris scrunched his nose in feigned annoyance. “you’re such a bossy little fox. you are aware that you’re speaking to the heir of the autumn court with such insolence, aren’t you?”
you tugged him to you, pinching his cheek as he laid against your chest. “i wouldn’t have to resort to insults if the big, bad future high lord had the balls to simply ask for what he wanted.”
“and what do i want?” eris asked, shifting to face you as you ran your fingers through his luscious hair.
“to be babied,” you declared. “admit it, pumpkin. you just want someone to play with your hair and cuddle you at night and give you all the kisses.”
“you’re wrong,” eris declared, his lids fluttering shut as you snuggled against him. “i don’t want just someone. i want you, little fox.”
you smiled. “well, i’m already playing with your hair and cuddling you so all that’s left is —“
eris took your face in his hands and pulled you down to him. his lips were velvet against yours, playful and teasing just like the male you were kissing. butterflies erupted in your stomach as eris clutched you closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, filling you with the taste of freshly picked apples and rich cinnamon with a hint of mint toothpaste. eris pulled away reluctantly, pressing his forehead against yours.
amber eyes full of heat pierced through you as you smirked. “it took you damn well long enough.”
eris rolled his eyes fondly before pulling you against his chest. “you absolute menace,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “you’ve finally pierced my wretched heart. it feels as horrifying as i imagined.”
you buried your face against his neck, smiling against his skin. “good night, you insufferable drama queen.”
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probably-writing-x · 1 year
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Blushing Boy
Drew Starkey x Reader
Summary: There were few things that made Drew Starkey lose his confidence, in fact, perhaps only one could truly ever do it; you. He didn’t know how, or why, but you just seemed to have that goddamn effect on him.
Warnings: Nothing besties, just fluffy as heck
Author’s Note: Thank you so so much for the love on my other post, I just had to post this one too !! Please please send in any requests you have my angels <3
Not my gif
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You were just about nearing the end of press for Outer Banks Season 3, and all bases had been covered - you’d done interviews to see how well you knew your cast mates, ones looking at scenes from the show, and, of course, the puppy interview. Today was your last day, though all of you were split up in different places, on different projects, and so the last day of interviews would be done over zoom. This was your first experience working on the show, having come in to play Rafe’s love interest as the start of the season. Thankfully, the fans had fallen in love with you, and especially with your storyline with Drew. So much so, in fact, that they’d started to ship you two as actors as well, adoring every moment that they saw you spend together. The two of you were just friends, but you can’t say you didn’t find it amusing whenever theories were made. And, being honest, some of the edits did make you two look cute.
That was your side of things, anyway. Drew had fallen for you at the same rate that Rafe had fallen for your character. He wanted to see you every morning you started work, waiting to catch sight of you on set. He wanted to film all of his scenes with you, watching in awe whenever you acted. He was mesmerised whenever he saw you at events, amazed by you from the red carpets to the earliest of mornings. Drew felt like a schoolboy around you, stumbling over his words, blushing at prolonged eye contact, ears pricking up at the sound of your name. And it only got worse the more he saw of you.
“Okay, thank you guys all for joining me today,” The interviewer begins, smiling widely into the screen, “We’ve got Madelyn, Chase, Madison, Rudy, Jonathon, Carlacia, Drew and (Y/N), the cast of season three of Outer Banks, now streaming on Netflix. How are you guys doing?”
“I’m good,” Madelyn smiles.
“I’m tired, I flew back from Paris today and I’m so jetlagged,” Madison laughs.
“Okay, we’ll start off with a question for Chase, how has it been with the new additions to the cast this season - with Carlacia and (Y/N). How does that fit in with the dynamic of you guys working together?”
Chase leans closer to his microphone and speaks, “You know I think we got really lucky again to work with another great group of people, we all get on so well and these two just fit in perfectly with that, and it makes it so easy to go to work when you’re with such a good bunch.”
“Amazing, and (Y/N), what was your experience like being on set?”
You shift in your seat, glancing at all of the faces on screen, “Like Chase said, it was just ideal getting to work with everyone, it’s like being on one long holiday all working together, you’re out in the sun everyday, you’re on the water, you’re doing stunts, it was just such a great experience. And I was so lucky to get to share the screen with Drew, he makes it so easy to come into work everyday and, I mean, it’s not exactly hard to pretend to fall in love with him.”
You glance at him on the screen and the way his eyes seem so transfixed as you speak, like he holds onto every syllable one at a time. He’s wearing a purple t-shirt that brings out his eyes and his hair is messy in that sort of perfect way it always was.
“And Drew, what was it like to be working with (Y/N) so closely?”
“Yeah, I mean,” He coughs over his words, “It was great, (Y/N) is just perfect to work with, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. She’s so talented, and kind and supportive as an actress and she just made me want to get up every day and come into work.”
You’re sure your cheeks heat with the vulnerability of what he has said. His are bright red too, and you’re relieved for a moment to share the same feeling even across the screen.
A few more questions are asked, Rudy explains about how many injuries he managed to pick up on set and Jonathon tells an embarrassing story about you and Madelyn from the wrap party. And then attention falls back to you and Drew.
“So, whilst I’ve got you guys here, I have to ask Drew and (Y/N) about the rumours that have been going around about you two, can you tell me anything the fans will want to hear?”
You laugh, slightly allowing yourself a bit more time before you figure out what to say, “You know, these things are inevitable when you play a couple on a show. But I think we take it as a compliment if anything, at least it was convincing enough for people to believe us, you know? Right Drew?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Drew chuckles dryly, “I’m just glad they know that we don’t hate each other.”
“Are you blushing Starkey?!” Rudy exclaims, coming closer to the screen.
Drew laughs and looks away, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth, “Shut it Pankow.”
Everyone laughs but it’s as if you can feel all eyes on the two of you, and in that moment, all you want it for him to be there with you to share the attention. For him to be close enough that your hand could brush his, your eyes could focus solely on Drew’s, your laugh in rhythm with his. And, in that moment, perhaps for the first time, you realise that maybe those edits had realised something before you had.
“Okay, well it’s been great speaking to you guys, thank you so much for joining me,” The interviewer finishes up, closing off before telling you that you’re all done and you can log off from the call.
You shut your laptop and pull out your phone to see notifications already bursting through. They’re all from the groupchat you had with the other girls.
Oh my god did you see his face?
Are you kidding me rn??? That boy is in love with you
I’ll never forgive you if you don’t date Starkey fr
You laugh, fingers hovering over the buttons as you try to figure out a response. You wanted to tell them that they were being stupid, that there was no reason for them to think like that. But you can’t bring yourself to lie to them.
You swipe away from that chat, scrolling the short way down to where Drew’s chat with you was. The last thing he’d sent you was a fan made video of the two of you, a video from set where he had you on his shoulders in the pool and both of you fell under.
When you go to text him, he’s already typing.
And this time, you’re the one that’s blushing.
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You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader
Genre: Angst to fluff
Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.
Requested by: @ushisrever
A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.
Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.
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It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.
"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"
"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."
"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"
"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."
"Must you always be so cruel?!"
"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."
You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.
"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."
Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.
Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.
He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.
The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.
You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.
Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.
"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.
"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.
"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.
"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.
You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.
"It's not about athleticism."
"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.
Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.
"I'll try my best, I promise."
"I know you will."
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"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"
You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.
"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."
The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.
Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.
Did she just call him by his first name?
"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.
You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.
Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.
Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.
I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?
"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.
"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.
"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.
Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.
It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.
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It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.
However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.
You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.
The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.
"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"
"No WAY! I am SO jealous."
A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.
"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."
"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."
Your heart drops down to your feet.
You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.
"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"
"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"
You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.
No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.
No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.
You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.
"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."
It's true.
"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"
He's going on a date with her.
"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"
He's going on a date with h-
"You should join us."
Huh?
"What?"
"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."
What? What? What?? What is happening right now??
Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.
"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"
"Nakamura's. Why?"
"And how did she bring up the idea?"
"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."
He didn't get it.
"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."
His eyes widen with surprise.
"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."
Could this mean...? Can I hope...?
"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."
"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."
He has feelings for her.
Your heart shatters.
You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.
I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.
You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.
Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.
But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.
You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.
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Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.
You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.
You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.
You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.
Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.
You head out.
No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.
Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.
Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.
You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.
All the sweet memories make you tear up again.
"You didn't come to school today."
You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.
"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.
"You seem upset."
He noticed.
"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.
He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You quickly avert your gaze again.
"No."
"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"
It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.
"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"
Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.
"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.
"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."
"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."
"Why would I do that?"
"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.
"I am not dating Nakamura."
What?
"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"
"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "
"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."
"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."
"I...see..."
Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.
"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.
"Of course."
"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"
You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-
"Yes. You."
You stare at him blankly.
It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?
"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."
You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.
"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."
He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"
"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."
"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."
He feels the same. He has always felt the same.
"Toshi?"
He turns to you again.
"I love you."
He breaks into a soft smile.
"I love you too."
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Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.
Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.
Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.
Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.
MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!
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ageofevermore · 9 months
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BLACK TEE
SUMMARY — natasha spends all morning looking for her favorite black t-shirt that you stole weeks ago
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You had no idea what had sent your girlfriend into such a frenzy, but walking into her apartment alarmed you that something was up. The ruckus only got louder and louder the farther you stepped into the home, until you found your girlfriend sprawled out on her bedroom floor with clothes surrounding her. Her eye was still bruised over from the last mission she was called away on, and her side was still bruised up from the assault of the weapons backfiring. Nonetheless, she looked perfect.
“Everything okay down there?” You asked, watching as Natasha rolled over onto her stomach and once again began pulling random shirts out from beneath her bed. The red scratch marks littering her back were all from you, and a blush spread over your cheeks as you took in her bare appearance. You could do as much damage as a battlefield.
“I’m trying—” She huffed, pulling out yet another black t-shirt that had been crumpled into a ball, probably having never been worn because of the messy state of not only Natasha’s room, but her life at the moment. “I’m trying to find my one black t-shirt. Not the ribbed one.”
You raised your eyebrows, looking down at the shirt clinging to your own torso. Natasha had too many black t-shirts, you’ve told her a million and three times, but she always shushed you with the justification that she could identify each one by a single trait she didn’t like, and it almost never failed her. The specific t-shirt she’s looking for is your favorite, and you’ve been playing a long pawn to finally steal it. It was big on you, and it was soft, and it smelled like the perfect mix of your girlfriend's favorite things; the salt of the ocean, her perfume, the fabric softener you used when you did her laundry after a battle, and your perfume from the beginning of the day. If she had looked up at you when you entered, she would have realized it was hers immediately due to the oversized fitting, but she was too much in a trance to even pay you any attention.
“The one Maria got you for christmas?” You played into her antics, getting down on your knees beside her head so you could scour through her dresser. You felt her hair move against your thigh in confirmation, and you laughed softly. “Why do you want that specific one? You just pulled out an identical one.”
“The one I’m looking for is softer.” She mused, “You washed it with the fabric softener last time you were here. After Clint almost got blown to bits..” Your heart swelled knowing that she paid enough attention to what you did for her to know you spent hours washing her clothes after she went to bed because you couldn’t sleep, still on edge about how you could’ve lost her this time. She had come to find you just after one, but you had already folded her clothes and put them away before she corralled you back to bed sleepily herself.
You squealed when suddenly your body was tackled to the floor, pinned beneath Natasha’s body and her smiling face was above yours. You giggled as her fingers moved against your hips, digging into the shallow dips of your hips, knowing that was where you were the most ticklish. “You have it on!” She taunted, “We were looking for a shirt you have on! When did you take it?”
“When I washed it. It’s my favorite.” You added nonchalantly, nuzzling your nose up into the collar of the shirt and smiling at Natasha, even though he couldn’t see your mouth beneath the soft black cotton. “Smells like you.”
Natasha lowered her nose to yours, pulling the shirt away from your mouth and putting her lips on yours. The two of you fit together perfectly, and even though Natasha spent hours looking for that soft black shirt, she didn’t have the mind to strip it from your possession.
“Looks better on you anyways, baby.”
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detectivestucks · 2 months
Text
Brat Taming
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18+ Content, Minors do NOT interact
Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader
Summery: Modern AU Kakashi is your arrogant and creepy step brother. One night while your parents are out of town you come home from a night of partying only to find Kakashi in your room, ready to make you pay for all your cheeky comments
Warnings: NSFW, NONCON, Stepcest, Toxic Kakashi, brat taming, oral, fingering, unprotected penetration, choking, anal play, facial, hair pulling, harsh spanking, under age drinking.
Word Count: 4.6k
Anon Ask
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When your mom married Sakumo three years ago you thought your Clueless fantasy was about to come true. Your new step brother, Kakashi, was stupid hot. He was blessed with a gorgeous angular face, deep brown eyes, thick silky silver hair and a mouthwatering scar over his left eye. He loved to walk around the house either in fitted muscle tanks or shirtless with only loose gray sweats, showing off his chiseled frame. On top of that he had big masculine hands with perfectly manicured fingers that you would daydream about grazing your most sensitive areas. He was going to be your Josh and you were Cher waiting for him to fall madly in love with you. 
Only it turned out he was a complete and total ass.
Soon after your parents got together he had been accepted to Harvard and loved to lord over everyone what a genius he is. You quickly grew a distaste for the prick and got cheeky whenever he felt the need to remind you of his superiority. 
Currently you are a freshman in college starting your second semester at UMass. You chose to live at home to keep your mom company since you didn’t like the idea of living in a tiny dorm room with some random roommate you didn’t know. Kakashi on the other hand, just got kicked out of the dorms last semester and was finishing his Junior year at home with you and your parents. 
It turns out you were not the only person he liked to mouth off to. He got into several arguments with many of his dorm mates and the RA. Eventually he was banned from on-campus housing and now you were left to suffer through daily interactions with the world's most annoying step brother. 
Always his insufferable self, recently Kakashi has been extra creepy. He seems to have forgotten what a shirt is and rarely had one on his back. Sometimes you thought you caught him palming himself out of the corner of your eye and you would catch him staring at you when you get ready to go out with your friends. Most annoyingly, sometimes he’d hang out in your bedroom when you were trying to get ready for bed.
“Can I help you?”
“Just making sure you’re not so brain dead that you forgot how to put on pants. I know it can be hard for some people.”
“Oh is that so? Cause I was just making sure you didn't forget how to shut your mouth. I know it can be hard for some people.”
“Careful, now. You should really mind who you’re speaking to that way.”
“Sorry, I don’t take kindly to creeps who think I’m too stupid to put on pants. Is that why they kicked you out? Cause you were trying to show girls how to put on their pants?”
Kakashi furiously charged up to you and got right in your face. You were scared but you weren’t gonna show him that. Instead you glare at him. 
“Watch it kid or you’ll find yourself in a world of trouble.”
“Threats don’t work with me big bro. Try again some other time.”
Angry, he left the room. Closing his door with a snap. 
It had been like this for weeks. His unwelcome presence always looming around. You hated the way he looked at you. It was like he was hunting for a reason to tear you down. Whether it was your degree, your ‘public university’ education, or your slutty outfit choices. The guy needed a life. Most of the time you’d quip back but sometimes you just didn’t have the energy and instead roll your eyes. Tonight was one of those nights. Sakumo and your mom were out of town on a romantic getaway so you were going out while Kakashi tried to lord over you as the ‘man of the house.’
“Ah you going to see your boy toy? You know you’re never going to get a respectable man dressed like that.”
“I’m not going to see any boy toy, I’m going out with my friends.”
You see him give a smug smirk at your answer
“Besides, it’s not up to you if I’m looking for a respectable man or not. Maybe I’m not looking for one at all.”
“So just looking to be a little whore. I see how it is.”
You glare at him before rolling your eyes.
“I’m out. See you later, loser.”
You catch Kakashi’s face paint in fury as you leave. He hated how you constantly try to undermine him. He hated that you were such a brat. And he truly hated how no one ever put you in your place. 
********************************************
You loudly came home at 2am from partying with your friends. You were a little inebriated and stumbled to the kitchen to get water before heading upstairs to bed. You make your way up the stairs, tripping over your high heels. You get to your bedroom and when you turn on the light you see Kakashi already laying in your bed. 
“Seriously, what’s your problem?”
“I have no problem. I’m not the one getting home at 2 am after a night of underage drinking.”
You were hit with a wave of sobriety at his words. If he told your mom, you’d be screwed. Seeing your expression, he knew he had you cornered. Kakashi stands up and walks past you as if he’s leaving the room, putting himself between you and the door before changing his mind and closing it.
“Remember when I said you should watch it?” 
He turns to you, taking a step forward. You begin to stumble backwards towards the bed.
“You’re such a filthy brat” he spits.
You continue to stumble backwards, your heels slipping off your feet. 
“And there's nothing I love more than putting a brat in her place.”
Your eyes widen in fear as you see a dark smile stretch across his face. Calves hitting the bed, you fall down to the floor and Kakashi weaves his strong hands into your hair, pulling it back so you’re forced to stare up at him. Your mind hazy, you begin to realize exactly how he imagines putting you in your place and it causes you to tremble. 
He tugs down his sweatpants and pulls out his length. Its weight slaps you in the face with a heavy thud. You flinch in his grasp but his fingers tighten in your locks as he begins beating you with his manhood.
“Drunk little girls like you don’t deserve to brush their teeth with a toothbrush. They only get to brush their teeth with cock. Now open that brat mouth for me.”
“No!”
Kakashi spits on your face. “I said open”
In your outrage you open your mouth about to hurl an insult at him when he shoved himself between your lips and pushed your head all the way down to his stomach. You were gagging and retching around him. You pushed against his thighs with all your might but your pathetic drunken arms were no match for his robust muscular physique. 
“That’s it. Choke on my cock you twerp.”
He groaned as he feels you constrict around his tip in an attempt to swallow air. Your eyes were tearing up from oxygen deprivation and your entire body was rigid in your struggle. He roughly pulls you up and down on him, pummeling your throat with a manhood much too large for your mouth. You feel your jaw lock as you open wide, tears falling freely from your eyes. 
He pulls you off of him and slaps your drool and tear drenched face. 
“Look at you. Just a little slut swallowing me so good. It seems college has at least taught you how to swallow dick so I guess your tuition has been put to good use.”
Your chest is heaving as you gulp down fresh air, seeing two of him with inebriated eyes while the pain of your hair being pulled registers in your hazy mind. 
“Again.”
He plummets into your mouth once more, fucking your face while you choke. Drool dribbling past your lips and down the front of your dress. He threatens you,
“Don’t even think about running to mommy. I’ll tell her all about how drunk you were and how you came onto me and you’ll be grounded and not allowed to see your little friends for the rest of the semester. Got it?”
He shakes your head with the hand grasping your hair. You whine ‘yes’ with a full mouth as you cry out from the pain. He retreats from your throat and you cough while he shoves you face down on your bed. He bends you over its edge, ass facing him. You desperately bring your hands to the back of your head, trying to pull off the hand tangled in your hair. He pushes you down into the mattress with force majeure and you sob from your dishonorable predicament.
“Resisting is futile little sis. This is what happens to brats who don’t know their place.”
He pulls up the skirt of your mini dress and yanks down your strappy thong. 
“Who are you wearing this slutty underwear for, huh? I thought you weren’t going to meet up with any boys” you hear a hum of amusement from his chest. “Did you wear this for me?”
“Fuck off” you choke.
“Ah, you see? You shouldn’t have said that.” He spreads your legs and brings his hand up to forcefully slap your sex. You yelp and flinch. 
“This is the very attitude I was talking about sis.” He slaps you again, this time harder.
“Someone’s gotta beat this out of you.” He slaps you again, this time with significant strength. 
Kakashi catches some arousal dripping out of you when he removes his hand from your folds. He lets out a chuckle. “Seems like you’re enjoying this.” 
His words burn you with embarrassment and reignite your struggles till he plunges his fingers inside of your gummy cunt. You gasp at his uninvited intrusion. He feels around, stroking in and out, coating his knuckles in your secretions. As he toys with you he hits your sweet spot and an involuntary groan spills past your lips. 
“Oh, you like that, huh?”
You shake your head ‘no’ but when he does it again you moan once more, walls tightening around his fingers. He pulls out of you and spanks your cheek causing you to cry. 
“You’re not supposed to enjoy it brat.” he snarls before sinking his fingers into you again. 
He maliciously milks your sweet spot, driving you to a crazed state. You struggle to refrain from moaning but if you fail and a cry slips past your lips be brings a heavy palm down on your rear with so much force that the red handprints quickly turn purple. He repeats the torturous process till you are thrashing in his grasp and he has to pull you up by your hair to pin you down on the bed with his body weight on top of you to stop your struggle. 
Kneeling on either side of your arms, weight on your chest, he can see the mascara run down your cheeks. He swells with pride seeing you made messy by his hands. He shoves himself back into your mouth. You kick and try to push him off of you but he has no patience for your misbehavior. He reaches behind himself and gives you a slap between your legs. 
Your resulting squeal vibrates along his shaft. A pleasured growl rumbles from his chest so he continues to reach around, beating against your cunt while he thrusts in and out of your mouth. 
Your fingers begin to dig into him, scratching up his legs as you desperately try to get him off of you. He rips himself from your mouth and grabs you by your wrists.
“You wanna play rough, sis? I can give you rough.”
He gives you a shit eating grin as he leans all his weight on your restrained wrists and uses his knees to spread your legs. You feel the heat of his length rub against your folds as he gets his body into position. You quickly realize you’re losing the war and he’s going to get exactly wants. You squirm and wiggle your hips trying to stop him from sinking in. In his frustration he pulls down the top of your dress and slaps your tit. You feel the sting as your arm goes to his chest but he quickly recaptures your wrist.
“Stop moving” he warns
“Fuck you loser!”
“Gladly”
The most sickening smile splits his face as he sinks himself deep into you. A loud groan is pushed out of you as he shoves your organs out of the way with his fat cock. 
“Wanna say that again?” he croons in your ear
You look up at him with doe eyes, not ready for how he is about to tear you apart and shake your head ‘no’
“That’s what I thought.”
He glides into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every vein as he violates you. He loves watching your eyes go wide every time he bottoms out, pausing to feel the full effect of him stuffing you. You whimper and groan stretched more than you thought possible, helplessly trapped. There was no running, no way out. You were alone and defenseless.
Nevertheless you struggle under his weight, trying to free your wrists. Annoyed by your incessant struggle he decides to bring them above your head and pin them together, freeing up his hand so he can grab your nipple, squeezing it between his index finger and thumb. You squirm as he applies pressure. 
“Keep resisting and see what happens” Kakashi threatens as he pulls up with your bud trapped in his pinch. You draw breath through your teeth, the pain consuming your thoughts. Not even registering that he hasn’t stopped rutting into you the entire time. 
“Gahh!”
“Understand?” You’re so focused on the pain in your nipple that all you do is whimper. “Answer me!” he barks with a twist of your nub
“Nggh! Fine!” Your eyes are screwed shut. You begin to open them when he releases your captive bud but you flinch when he slaps your tit again. 
He grabs your face, smushing your cheeks together. 
“See, I knew you could follow directions. That’s a smart girl”
You loathed him but you couldn’t help how your walls were restricting around him. His size massaged your sweet slit in such a gratifying way. Your body completely betrayed your mind. It seemed completely out of touch with the gravity of your situation. He left you breathless, your lungs forgetting how to breathe, as he pummeled into you. 
Anger on your mind, you watched him as he watched you. You pan over his stinging brown eyes, his angular features, and the mole that sits just below his drool inducing lips. He was hot and you hate him all the more for it. 
Disgust written on your mug as he studies you, anxiously waiting to watch you break. He picks up a little speed and you groan into it. You immediately regret the noise when you see a smug simper stretch on his face. You try to give him a glare but he hits you with a particularly sharp thrust and your face betrays you as your mouth falls open and your profile softens from pleasure. 
“I knew you were just a weak little slut.”
“Shut up.”
He slaps your face. “Wanna try that again?”
You attempt another glare at him but he thrusts up into you in a way that hits a sweet spot and you mewl for him.
“Ah! Thank you, ah.”
His chuckle makes your stomach twist as you realize what you said. 
“Ahh, she has manners.” condescension thick. You truly hate him.
He continues to thrust against the same spot making you pant under him. You cry pleasured screams from the sensation. He kept going, enjoying the view of you coming undone against your will. 
The sounds of your submission were getting a touch too loud. Trusting that you would behave, he strips off his shirt to reveal his well defined muscular frame beneath. He balls up the hem and shoves it in your mouth before returning a hand to your wrists, obediently still crossed together, waiting to be restrained again. 
You hated how good it felt. The recognition of him pleasuring you made you feel slimy on the inside, and desperate to get him off of you. He was your brother. Your arrogant asshole of a brother, yet he had you panting and crying beneath him. He was such a sick fuck. 
He gains speed. Beginning to bang the headboard into the wall. The sound thundering through the quiet night. Good thing the parents weren’t home to hear you cause he was beginning to lose his composure. He had been so careful to conceal his hunger but it was evident in his eyes that he was wild with lust. You sing into your gag, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. His unrelenting pace, his careful aim, and his grunts combined into a euphoric melody that had you spasming around him, calling his name through the gag. Your body stiffened as the orgasm tore through you.
“That’s a good brat. See how good it is to behave?”
You dumbly nod your head as the aftershocks course through your system. He strokes slowly allowing you to fall limp before he barks at you again.
“Get on your knees” he says, lifting his weight off of your wrists. He helps you flip over on your stomach and his hands pull up your hips so they are aligned with his pelvis. You attempt to support your weight on your arms when he pushes your head back down, roughly shoving you into the mattress. 
“Brats get fucked like whores. Lift your slut face off the sheets and there will be consequences..”
You cry out as you obey his command. He pushes in just the tip and you anxiously close around it before he pulls out again. You hate the way you whined from how empty you felt. He pushes in just a little deeper before retreating again, toying with you to prove his point. This time when he begins to line up his tip you rock your hips all the way back so he ‘s buried inside of you. You hadn’t anticipated how the angle would overstimulate you and you gasp about to pull away but his hands grab your hips and hold you steady. He begins to chuckle. 
“Such a twerp, complaining about something you did to yourself.”
You loathe yourself for how you sought him out just now. He was assaulting you and you were practically begging him to fill you. It was all a game to him and your pathetic response was exhilarating.
He  brings his hand down on your backside that was already bruised and purple from his earlier battery. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, cries muffled by his shirt. He strikes you more. Every time you try to tuck your tail under to avoid the abuse he pushes down on your back. You were not running away from him. You were a mouse trapped in the maze. 
He begins to ram into you, the plush tissue of your behind rippling violently as his hips collide into you on repeat. Your fingers spread and grip onto your duvet for dear life as he bullies himself deep into you. 
You can’t handle the feeling. He’s too big! You lift yourself up trying to change the angle, trying to find relief, when his formidable hands sweep across your neck and choke you. He pulls you up just enough that your arms couldn’t reach the mattress and your entire body weight was supported by his grip on your neck. His hands sink into your trachea with every plummet into your slick cavern. 
You claw at his hands on your neck, trying to get under his fingers to lift the pressure from your windpipe so you could breathe. Your attempts were futile. Eventually your hands grip his wrists, giving up on being allowed to breathe.
“I told you not to lift your face. Here I thought you were learning your lesson.”
Seeing the gag start to fall out of your mouth, he lifts one hand off your neck to stuff it deeper before returning it to your throat. You spasm around him, tears spilling from your eyes, back involuntarily bowing, allowing him to push against your diaphragm. He knocked the wind out of you without allowing you to catch your breath. His cruelty leaves you putty in his hands, pliable and bending to his will. Gushing around his girth, broken and winded.
“Now you’re starting to get the picture.”
Pleasured cries permeate through the fabric in your mouth. He doesn’t plan on letting up any time soon either. He’s enjoying the view too much. Your glutes shake with each thrust while they’re spread wide open. He hones in on your puckered rear when he remembers what he found when he was snooping in your room. 
He pulls out of you and grabs you around the waist, pulling your back into his cut chest, possessively holding you so you can’t run away as he drags you across the bed where he can reach into your nightstand drawer. He pulls out your tiny black plug with a blue gem on the end. You look over and through your dazed state you realize what he grabbed and you start to protest. 
“No, no, no, no” you say through the cloth.
He shoves you down pulling your hips up once more and shoving your face back into the bed so your cries cannot be heard. His spit falls onto your rear, pooling over your sphincter where he pushes down on the tapered tip of your plug. You begin to wail.
“What’s all the fuss for? This is your’s, is it not? I thought whores liked having their holes stuffed.”
You tried pulling away but his grip on your hips tightened and he slammed back into you enjoying the friction of where the plug encroached on the space in your tunnel. 
You looked so beautiful with the blue gem protruding out of your dirty hole. He was definitely going to do this to you again. He was going to make you beg him for it once he was done putting you in your place. 
The thought of you coming to his room, plug in place, to get another taste of his fat cock made him ravenous. He rails into you using every drop of athleticism he has. You start to scream and go dizzy. His heavy balls slap into the bundle of nerves swelling between your legs. Eventually they swing into you with so much voracity that you twitch with each stroke of his hips. Your face began to melt into the mattress from his pounding and you are certain he will break your neck from the force. 
He flips you over, pushing your hips up so your knees are by your face, ass high in the air. He stands on the bed and sinks himself between your lips, thrusting down into you with all his might. Abdominals flexing with each thrust, passionate grunts bending you in half. The impossible positions shredding what was left of your once tight pussy. 
“Take it little slut.”
He can see the helpless tears leak from your eyes as you feel every inch of him being swallowed up by your soiled cunt. 
“Fuck Kakashi” you moan between labored breaths. 
He smirks. He had you just where he wanted you. He only needed to push you over the edge. He reached down and begins whirling circles around your clit. You shriek and knock your knees together. But his silky chuckle cuts your mind like a knife. The fucker was laughing at you. You squirm but your current position was so compromising you couldn’t move. He plays with you rubbing more vigorously. You scream and holler under him unfamiliar with such intensity as this.
“Ple-Pl-ease” you dumbly whine. 
“Please what, sis? You’ll need to speak up”
“M-may I c-cu-mm?”
He pounds into you without relenting. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that”
He was such an abhorrent ass but the heat in your lower belly was boiling over and you needed to release. You try to phish your voice from the back of your mind but it’s swimming and the way he drags along your ridges while swirling your sensitive bud has you desperate for him. 
“Gah! Please l’me cum!”
The glint in his eyes sickened you but you didn’t have the strength to care as he readjusted his stroke to pound into the sweet spot he found earlier. Your entire body convulsed under him as you had the most intense orgasm of your life. 
Kakashi, pleased with his successful session of taming you, feels his own gratification on its precipice.
He pulls out of your quaking cunt with a slap to your sensitive clit causing your hips to fall to the mattress with a cry. Your destroyed state was erotic. Helplessly shaking, sweat all over your body, dress bunched around your stomach, hair knotted and messy, ass still plugged and tears drenching your face. His fingers seek out your hair to hold you still while he paints your face white. 
“That’s a good girl. Take your reward.”
You tremble in his arms. When his seed can no longer shoot from his tip and simply oozes from his slit Kakashi presses himself against your lips. You part them slightly to give it a kiss leaving him to shutter from sensitivity. 
“Yes, very good”
He brushes your cheek with his thumb pad smearing his cum along your skin. You look up at him pathetically and he smiles down on you. 
“There we go sweet sister. That’s much better.”
You make a little whine that he finds so precious. 
“Go clean yourself up little one.” he pets your head before pulling on his sweatpants and tucking himself away. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to join me if you want.” 
He grabs his shirt, throwing it over his shoulder before lacing both hands together behind his head as he walks away. 
Your lip quivers as you entertain the idea, realizing you were hopelessly hooked.
Shakily you get up, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and walk naked to the bathroom. Kakashi glances over from his bed as he sees you through the crack in his bedroom door before exhaustion lulls him to sleep. 
He wakes up a half hour later to your weak-willed body slipping into his bed completely naked. He opens his arms, letting you settle into his chest before he closes them around you. You exhale with a small sigh and in your mind you know you would be yearning for the next time the two of you are home alone so he could tie you up and brutally defile you again. 
He plants a kiss on your forehead, mind flooded with gratification at finally breaking you down into such a needy state. 
He reaches down between your cheeks to see you kept your plug in tact. He gives it a small tug and you look up at him with a whine. He nuzzled your nose and whispers to you in his silky smooth voice before gently pressing a kiss on your lips. 
“Such a filthy brat”
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joekeeryswife · 11 months
Text
Deadbeat dad - e.m
hello angels! i hope you’re all okay. i am not after writing this, i’m legit in floods of tears. it is a sad dad/rockstar!eddie. i am legit heartbroken at this omfg. anyway, enjoy reading🩷 eddie’s part two x steve’s part two x
taglist (add yourselves 🩷) @eddieamoremio @theshireisonfire @thankingjoe @livsters @sadbitchfangirl @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @juleshadalittlelamb @hollandweather @lovurry @bibieddiesgf @plk-18 @Heyyimmissunderstood @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @hargrovesswifee @shiftingmack @chxrrysprxut @Idkjoequinn (if there’s a line through your @ i can’t tag you, lmk if you’ve changed your name🩷)
"i can't make it today, i'm really really busy" you sighed, rubbing your forehead with your free hand as you held the phone to your ear with your other. "this can't keep happening Eddie, she has been wanting to see you for weeks now" this was the third time this month Eddie had cancelled.
your sweet girl Penny had been ecstatic when Eddie spoke to her last week to say that he would be here this weekend and he wasn't. "well i'm sorry y/n but i have things to do. this band is really important to me" you weren't shocked. Eddie had always put the band before his family, that was why you and Eddie split up.
"she's your daughter, she can't fit her life around you anymore. she should be more important then that stupid band you have" you could hear Penny's footsteps upstairs meaning she was now awake. "you know what fuck you. i'm busy all the time and i've only cancelled once, get over yourself" you scoffed, not wanting to argue over the phone you asked one simple question.
"are you going to be here for her birthday next Saturday?" you just hoped for once that he would put his daughter first, she loved him but he just left her hanging all the time. "yes y/n i'll be there. what time" he sounded uninterested, like he didn't really care for the party but it was important to her that he was there.
you felt a little glimmer of hope that maybe he would change and make an effort for one day "be here by three, let me know before if you can't come because i'll have to tell her-" he cut you off "i got it bye" with that he ended the phone slamming it down harshly. you put the phone down and heard Penny quickly approaching the living room.
"mama i need to get ready for daddy" you looked at her with a sympathetic smile. her curls were all over the place but she looked so adorable, holding the small bear she had gotten for her first birthday. you opened your arms for her and she climbed into your lap allowing you to wrap your arms around her, you kissed her forehead a couple of times and sighed.
"daddy can't make it today sweetheart" you felt her shoulders drop. "but why?" her voice was quiet and filled with sadness making your heart break. you brushed her curls out of her face and stroked her cheek "i don't know baby". you saw her cuddle her teddy bear closer and felt her sigh deeply.
"it's okay mama we can do something together right?" she looked up at you as you looked down at her. her eyes were exactly like her dads, it was like looking at a mini Eddie was staring up at you. she only got a few features from you but she was beautiful, the prettiest little girl.
you smiled and nodded your hand running through her hair "of course we can, you pick" she smiled at you and thought about what she would like to do that day and you just prayed that Eddie made it to her party. it was one day, would he really miss his daughters birthday?
-
"is daddy coming today mama?" you heard Penny say as you set up the snack table in your spacious living room ready for the party which was in a few hours. you turned to look at her, she was dressed in a white dress with her curls laying perfectly in a ponytail. "i think so honey, he told me he was coming so i don't see why not"
today was the day you would see if Eddie would show up for his daughter. one day that was so special to her and you were still hoping that he would show up and surprise you all. Steve and Robin had come over to help with everything around the house and you were so grateful to have friends like them, who were willing to take the time to come to your house and help you.
"come on birthday girl, why don't we go upstairs and play with your toys" Robin said as she left you to finish up the snack table. once you heard her bedroom door close you sighed, you knew the chances were very slim that Eddie would show up and you just hoped that he would prove you wrong.
Steve was on a step ladder hanging up a huge banner when he turned to look at you, being careful he wouldn't fall off. "do you think he will turn up?" everyone who knew the situation with you and Eddie knew it was very unlikely that he would turn up.
"i don't think so but i can't say that to her today, i'm just hoping that he does. not for me but for her she deserves it" it had been three years since you and Eddie split up and he had seen Penny maybe 20 times. it went from him seeing her every time he came back here from work to him not making the effort in showing up for her.
"he is being stupid. if he doesn't show up he it's unforgivable. i'll punch him if you need me too" you laughed loudly. it was well known that Steve was not a good fighter but you appreciated the thought. "with your track record i think we should leave the fighting" you smiled at him and looked up at the clock on the wall.
three o'clock had been and gone meaning the party would start soon. "i think Wayne has taken the day off to see her though so that's nice. all her friends are coming so if he doesn't she might be distracted enough to not notice" Steve felt sad for you but especially Penny.
he knew what it was like to have parents that didn't care, didn't bother showing up and he was happy that Penny had you. you always went above and beyond for her and he always admired it. you heard the doorbell ring making you smooth out your dress "it looks perfect okay? i'll go get Penny you open the door" Steve stepped down from the ladder and took it with him as he left you.
you walked to the front door and looked through the peephole to see Wayne standing there with a small, neatly wrapped gift in his hand. "hi Wayne" you said as you opened the door with a smile on your face. Wayne smiled and opened his arms to greet you, you were lucky you always had an amazing relationship with Wayne.
he was always here when you needed him, he helped loads when you and Eddie split up and he always made time for Penny which was the most important thing. "how you doing?" you pulled away from the hug and moved to the side so he could come in.
"i'm okay, very emotional. i can't believe she's five, she's growing up" you followed him into the living room and sat down next to him on the sofa. "i know, seems like only yesterday i got the call from ed's that she'd been born" he instantly realised what he had said and stuttered out an apology which you dismissed "it's okay really, it's a happy memory" it was a touchy subject and you knew Wayne had no ill intentions saying that.
"grandpa Wayne" you heard Penny scream as she saw her grandad was here. "hi princess" he smiled as she ran to him and squealed when he picked her up and placed her on his lap so he could cuddle her. "happy birthday" he kissed her forehead and you smiled at the interaction.
even though bad things happened between you and Eddie, Wayne was always there to tell him that what he did was stupid and that he'd let go of the best thing that would ever happen to him, he was also there for you when you and for that you were forever grateful. Wayne never left.
"did you get everything you wanted" he asked as the two pulled away. you wanted to stay and watch the two of them but another knock at the door pulled you away from the small group.
the next people to arrive were Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Will and Mike. you could see a few cars pulling up outside your house so after you greeted them you kept the door open and waiting for them. you could hear Penny giggling in the living room which meant she was happy and that was all that mattered to you today.
once everyone was in the party the kids were dancing and singing whilst the adults lingered around the living room and kitchen talking to one another. you saw Penny and Lottie, one of her school friends dancing with one another making your heart swell with adoration. she looked just looked so happy.
you were standing with Dustin and Steve, watching the kids closely just incase something was to happen. "so, where's Eddie?" Dustin asked as he looked around the room you only sighed and shook your head. "i don't know, i told him to be here at three and it's now four thirty"
you knew something like this would happen just like your gut feeling was telling you it would. "maybe he's just running a little late? i mean it's his daughters birthday for gods sake he needs to be here for her" Dustin rolled his eyes and Steve felt anger filling his body. how could someone do something like this to Penny? the sweetest little girl didn't deserve this.
"i doubt it Dustin. its been almost a month since he last saw her and every weekend he tells her he's gonna be here and then that day rolls around and he isn't. she is heartbroken every time and i'm honestly so close to just cutting off visitation, it's not like he sees her anyway" Dustin nodded and scratched the back of his neck, Eddie was his friend but it was getting harder and harder to defend him.
"he's unfortunately going to find out the hard way, have you told him how this is making her feel?" you nodded and looked at Penny again who had the biggest smile on her face as she danced with more of her friends. "of course i have, every time i get hit with the 'this band is so important to me' but i just keep remembering what it was like before Corroded Coffin took off you know?"
before the band got recognition he worked as a mechanic with Wayne, he made time for you and Penny but it was like as soon as they got the fame he didn't care. his priority changed. "he used to care, he was an amazing dad and i loved him but now i'm stuck wondering how can one person change so quickly. she loves her dad and it breaks my heart seeing her excitement fade as soon as i tell her he isn't coming. it's just too much for her, it's too much for me"
you looked up at the ceiling as you felt tears fill your eyes, you could feel your lip tremble as you tried to keep them in. of course when you and Eddie broke up it broke you, you thought the two of you would be together forever and just seeing the man you love change within a few weeks hurt you badly.
"hey no no don't cry, he isn't worth your tears honey. you're doing an incredible job and he's an asshole" you felt Steve's arm wrap around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug. you took a deep breath shocked that you were managing to keep these tears at bay. "it's just one day that i wish he tried, i can manage the other times but it's her birthday and he can't even show up" both boys nodded and you felt Steve's hand stroke your arm.
"he's a dick, but i promise you have all of us and i know it's not how you envisioned your family but you make that little girl so happy and you've done it all on your own. let's try forget about him and enjoy it yeah?" you nodded and kissed Steve’s cheek.
it was now nearing the end of Penny’s party and she was sat on the small sofa which was by the window overlooking the front garden watching as each car drove by the house. she was hoping that one of them would stop and her dad would be there to surprise her but every time the car didn’t stop she felt sadness fill her body.
“sweetheart, everyone’s in the kitchen ready to do your birthday cake” you said as you walked into the living room. “daddy’s not coming is he” you could hear the upset in her voice and it just broke you. you sighed and walked to her and sat down next to her, it was just big enough to fit the two of you.
you stroked her cheek softly and nodded “i don’t think so baby, i’m so sorry” you just watched as she nodded, she wasn’t sulking but you could tell she was really upset. “do you think we could call him maybe? maybe he’s stuck in a jam” you knew what she meant, a traffic jam was a common excuse that you had used for Eddie not turning up.
“of course we can” you got up and walked to the phone which was by the tv and dialled Eddie’s number. the phone rang but of course there was no answer and you watched as she got up from the sofa a frown on her face. she walked to you and held out her hand so she could take the phone as she heard the voicemail beep meaning she could leave a message.
“daddy. are you coming to my party, i miss you” with no response she placed the phone back down on the holder and you kneeled down. she grabbed your hand tightly “it’s okay sweet girl, we will sort it i promise. come on everyone’s waiting for you” you kissed her cheek and stood up so the two of you could walk to the kitchen.
it was evident that she was sad as she listened to everyone sing happy birthday to her and when she blew out her candles, she wished that her dad would turn to her party and surprise her. but her wish unfortunately never came true.
-
it had been a week since Penny’s birthday party and you hadn’t heard from Eddie at all, he never returned the voice message Penny left and you couldn’t help but cry once Penny was in bed and everyone except Steve and Robin had left. you couldn’t get that sad look on her face out of your mind.
today Steve was round and had decided he was going to take you and Penny out to the mall for some shopping and some ice cream, he had promised Penny last week when she was sat on his lap crying into his neck that Eddie didn’t turn up.
it was four o’clock and all three of you were finally ready to go to the mall, Steve and Penny were in her room finishing up a puzzle they had started that morning. it was an easy one but Steve had acted like he didn’t understand it which made Penny explain it in what he described as the most perfect explanation he had ever heard.
you were putting on your shoes and waiting for them to finish up when a knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts. you opened the door and was shocked to see Eddie standing there with a gift in his hands. “hey y/n, where is everyone. the party started an hour ago” he tried to brush past you but your hand stopped him from coming in.
“the party you’re talking about was last week Eddie, you knew that” you were furious, he’d turned up a week late. “no it’s not it’s today” you shook your head. “it wasn’t Eddie and if you answered your phone you would know that it was last week. did you not listen to the voicemail Penny left you?”
he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair “look i thought it was this weekend, it’s only a week why does it matter. i’ve come to spend the day with her” you scoffed and shook you head again, it was almost laughable.
“you’re joking with me right? you think that you can just turn up here a week late and act like that’s not okay? it was one day where i had begged you to come and you couldn’t even make the effort to show up. she’s devastated Eddie, you promised her” you almost shouted but you didn’t want to alert Penny and Steve that Eddie was here, you wanted him to leave.
“she’s busy today, like i said she doesn’t fit around your schedule anymore” Eddie rolled his eyes “i’m her dad, you can’t just stop me from seeing her” you looked him up and down, you hadn’t even realised how terrible he looked. pale, lifeless.
“you are no father Eddie, you stopped being her dad the minute your band got fame. you have no idea what it’s like to see her get hurt over and over again when you decide to not show up. maybe it’s because you’re with one of your groupies or maybe you’re too busy that day getting high with your friends i don’t care, i asked for one day. one day where you’d prove me wrong and you couldn’t even make the effort to see her on her birthday”
you just felt sad, he was nothing like the Eddie you had fallen in love with all those years ago but now when you see him you just feel angry, hurt and disgusted. “i’m sorry okay? i’ve come here to see her and i’d like to if you’d let me. i am her dad y/n and we can’t change that”
you head heavy footsteps walking down the stairs and footsteps approaching the door. you turned your head as you heard Penny laugh loudly at something Steve had said to her making Eddies focus change from you to her. she was in Steve’s arms hugging him exactly like she used to hug him and that hurt.
it took Steve a minute but he finally noticed Eddie standing there with a small gift in his hands. “oh shit” he whispered, his smile falling as he noticed yours and his hurt expression on your faces, both for completely different reasons. “hi Penny” she looked at the voice and saw Eddie standing there.
he had a small smile on his face as he took in her features. big brown eyes, curly hair which was exactly like his and lips, it was all him except for the small button nose she had obviously gotten from you. she looked at him with no expression, still hurt from what happened last weekend.
she turned away from him and dug her face into Steve’s neck. he took that as an indication that she didn’t want to see him so he walked away to the living room. Eddies smile dropped as he watched her and Steve walk away.
“he can’t just walk away with her, i wanted to see her. im her dad y/n, you can’t just take her away from me” he wasn’t angry, he was hurt that she’d turned away from him like that. “she doesn't see you as a dad anymore Eddie because you're never here” it hurt to tell him that but it was the truth.
his breathing stuttered as he heard that. yes he hadn’t been the perfect dad but he loved that little girl even if he didn’t show it. his eyes filled with tears, he wanted to say more, he wanted to stand there and fight but he didn’t want to cry in front of you so all he did was nod and hand the gift over to you. he bowed his head “i’m gonna uhh, try and change. i’m sorry y/n i really am” with that he walked away.
“i hope so Eddie” you whispered as you watched him walk to his car. you really did hope so.
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