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surftrips · 3 months

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SHAPESHIFT | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse wonders if you know just how much she likes you.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is the first part of a two part series i'm writing based on jenna doe's songs: shapeshift + pink slips. this is from clarisse's pov and the second one is from readers' :) lmk if you want to be tagged in part 2 <3

i. i think you have a type, and it's not me

Clarisse has been watching you from the second you arrived at camp. Since you spent every day doing more or less the same thing, she was able to pick up on your routine pretty fast. Two sugars in your coffee every morning. A walk around the lake in the afternoon. Archery practice before the sunset.

She felt weird going to practices at the same time as you, but she couldn’t help herself. Whenever she got a chance to sneak away from her siblings in the Ares cabin, she always found herself back in your presence. However, the thought to approach you like a normal person had never crossed her mind. Clarisse is the kind of person that needs to be in control, and talking to you one-on-one would mean letting her inhibitions take over, so she always made sure to keep her distance.

Once or twice, Clarisse had seen you on dates with another camper. At first, she thought you were just having a picnic with the girl from Aphrodite, until the two of you began holding hands. The next day, Clarisse saw you in the other girl’s sweater, which made her so sick she avoided you for an entire week.

The Aphrodite girl (her name, Clarisse later found out, was Stacy) began showing up with you more often. Stacy wore bows in her hair and pearl necklaces, whereas Clarisse’s mascara was always smudged and accessories that didn’t double as weapons felt wrong on her. For the first time, Clarisse wondered why she couldn’t just be like all the other girls. Or at least, a girl you would pay attention to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Clarisse tried to make her penchant for you as obvious as possible, while actively hiding it from the rest of camp. This proved to be difficult because at the same time, she also didn’t want to get too close to you because, well— what would she even say to you?

Her flirting consisted of winking at you during Capture the Flag or from across the dining hall. She had an ongoing list of nicknames of what to call you when no one else was around, but those moments were few and far between. Once, she even went as far as brushing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen on your face. There seemed to be nothing left for her to do except put bows in her hair or maybe paint her nails, and the thought of doing either of those things made her almost as sick as seeing you and Stacy together.

Between her and the Aphrodite girl, she knew which girl you would choose. Had chosen.

ii. mold me how you want me to be

Still, that was not going to stop Clarisse. She had never backed down from a fight before, and this was no different. Even if Stacy didn’t know it, she had become Clarisse’s number one enemy, even more so than that Percy Jackson kid that had recently shown up at camp. It just wasn’t fair that she had been watching you for so long and here comes Aphrodite’s daughter out of nowhere to sweep you off your feet.

Since Clarisse knew your routine by heart, she devised a plan to get you alone. She decided that she would finally make a move, and then you could pick for yourself who you wanted to be with. Easy enough, right?

At night, Clarisse lay awake in bed thinking about you, Stacy, then you and Stacy together. Though she didn’t want to go there, her brain wondered what the two of you were doing at that very moment. Her thoughts ranged from tame, to slightly more unhinged. Like, were you lying underneath the stars on your picnic blanket? Or was Stacy doing your makeup as she straddled your lap?

Clarisse didn’t pray often, but ever since she met you, she had taken to silently wishing you would acknowledge her. Each time she saw you with your arms wrapped around Stacy, she yearned to know what that would feel like. Not that she thought you would come near her with a ten-foot pole. Stacy is sweet, like bubblegum or strawberries from the fields, and Clarisse is the opposite. If you tasted her, she might make your gums bleed.

Before you, she was never the kind of girl to care about her appearance. Gods, she was the daughter of Ares, they weren’t known for their beauty but their strength and power and when it came to those categories, Clarisse knew that she had Stacy beat.

And yet, Clarisse would change just about anything about herself if it would make you like her more. In your hands, she would turn into putty, moldable clay to take the shape of your ideal lover. Hell, she would change her name if she thought you didn’t like the sound of it.

iii. kill anyone if you ask me to

A few weeks later, the Ares cabin and yours happened to be on the same team for Capture the Flag. It was the closest Clarisse had been to you ever since you began dating Stacy. The proximity to you was killing her, but she had to stay focused—on winning the game and your heart.

Putting aside her wandering thoughts, Clarisse barked out instructions to the campers. When she got to your cabin, she assigned you and your half-siblings to be the second line of defense for the flag. Clarisse figured this way, she could keep you out of harm’s way. Also, this was her one chance to talk to you without Stacy hanging off your body and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass.

After the first conch blew, Clarisse went on high-alert mode. Her team had lost the last game to Luke and Annabeth’s team, but she was not going to accept defeat this time. Her eyes darted back and forth between blind spots in the forest and you and the flag.

As she absent-mindedly waved her new spear around, Clarisse heard soft footsteps behind her. She whipped her head around with her weapon aimed in the air, preparing to fight whoever had approached her.

“Shit, Y/N, you scared me.” It was just you. Wait– it was you.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to,” you responded, your hands in front of you.

Clarisse almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Did someone poison her earlier and she was hallucinating right now? Okay, keep it cool.

“Is something wrong?” Clarisse managed to ask after composing herself, realizing that you had moved away from your post.

“Uh, no. I- um… heard about what happened to your spear last week, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you smiled nervously.

“Why?”

“Why…. am I sorry?”

Clarisse wanted to slap her hand across her forehead. Why did she say that? She meant to ask why are you talking to me right now? What did I do to deserve this? But she didn’t know how to word that in a way that wouldn't make you think she was crazy.

When she didn’t respond, you began backing away. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a sensitive topic. I just felt bad, is all.”

“No!” Clarisse began panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that- just, why are you talking to me now? We’ve never had a real conversation before.”

“Does it matter?” She expected you to be confused, but the look at your face seemed more amused than anything.

“No, I guess not,” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile. Gods, why was she so awkward? Anyone else, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but in the last few minutes, her mouth had gone dry and her legs felt as though they would give out at any second.

“Great,” you beamed in return. Clarisse’s eyes catch yours and the two of you stare at each other in content for a minute. Or at least, you are. Clarisse is convinced an Aphrodite kid has changed her pupils to hearts. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you broke the silence.

“What do you mean? I’m always around,” Clarisse stammered for an excuse.

“Well, sure. It’s a small camp.” You seemed to be enjoying seeing Clarisse fumble for words. “But I used to see you all the time. At breakfast and archery.”

Clarisse ignored the implications of your comment. “Oh, I guess we just started going at different times then. You know you’re always with Stacy now—”

At the mention of your girlfriend’s name, your face contorted into something strange and unfamiliar to Clarisse. But before she could figure it out, a noise behind you caused the two of you to turn around abruptly.

“Y/N, watch out!” Clarisse shouted at you, but it was too late. Someone had dragged you backwards, knocking your weapon out of your hand. You struggled to free yourself, but whoever was holding you had revealed a dagger and you didn’t want to risk accidentally cutting yourself.

“If you know what’s best for yourself, let her go.” Clarisse breathed furiously, pausing between the last three words in her sentence. You couldn’t see who was restraining you, but you could feel their heart rate quicken at the sight of Clarisse’s spear getting dangerously close.

“And what if I don’t?” they responded. You knew that they were just putting on a front, you could feel their chest heaving up and down on your back. Clarisse seemed to know this too, she’s always been able to sense fear in people— mostly because she is the one that invokes it.

“I don’t think you want to find out,” she grinned, a wicked smile on her face. The next second, her spear had jabbed into the camper’s side, causing them to let go of their hold on you. You dropped to the ground.

“Shit!” the camper swore, rubbing their ribcage. “You’re not supposed to actually hurt me!” You could see their face now, one of Hermes' kids you’ve seen hanging around Luke.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Clarisse laughed. “Besides, the spearhead is blunt. You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

The kid scrambled away, leaving behind the dagger they had previously threatened you with. Clarisse ran over, instinctively putting her hands on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You began to stand up, but Clarisse pushed you back down.

“Clar, come on, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Let me just get a look at you,” she insisted, ignoring the way your nickname for her made something in her stomach flip over. You relented, knowing it was useless to argue with her. You allow her to scan your body for any signs of harm. Clarisse took her time, unsure of when the next time she would be this close to you again. Most of your body was covered by your armor or clothes, so her eyes drifted toward your exposed arms and the area where the kid had touched you.

Hesitantly, she reached for the side of your stomach. “Are you sore? Did they leave a mark?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, lifting up the hem of your shirt to see. You heard Clarisse’s breath hitch. “What? What’s wrong?” You were fully sat up now.

“N-nothing!” Color rushed into Clarisse’s cheeks, causing her to turn her head away suddenly.

You giggled, her reaction not going unnoticed. “Thanks for saving me, tough girl.”

“Of course.” Clarisse pulled you up on your feet. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could register it. The two of you stared at each other again, it seemed as though eye contact was your main form of communication at the moment. And right now, Clarisse’s eyes were sparkling with something familiar, almost like how Stacy looks at you—

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?” Speaking of the devil, Clarisse rolled her eyes at the sight of your girlfriend running up.

“Stacy! How’d you know something was wrong?” You were pulled into a stifling hug, the air thick with floral perfume.

“Silly girl, I am the daughter of Aphrodite. I have a heightened sense for these things,” Stacy pulled her arms away and gave you a once-over, presumably to check for injuries, before smothering you with kisses.

Clarisse coughed, once, and then again a little louder. “Oh!” Stacy turned toward her. “Clarisse, I didn’t see you there.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” you said, sensing Clarisse’s uneasiness.

Now, Stacy’s face contorted into something strange. Shamelessly, Clarisse took pride in being the cause of it.

“Well, thank you,” she responded tersely. “Come on, let’s get one of the Apollo kids to look at you.” Stacy pushed you away before you could protest. You offered Clarisse a weak smile before turning around.

Clarisse sighed, maybe if she had been a daughter of Aphrodite, she could shapeshift into someone you walked away with— not from.

That night, she prayed to Ares for the first time in months.

#WHERE ARE ALL MY SAPPHICS #WOMEN LOVERS #WARNING: YEARNING #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue imagine #pjo x you #clarisse la rue x you

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loveinhawkins · 1 month

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ao3

About twenty minutes into the hike, Steve hears Eddie’s breathing change.

They’re bringing up the rear, but they’re still close enough for some of the group’s conversations to be within earshot—Robin and Nancy leading in a silently agreed upon formation, despite Dustin holding the compass. That way, no matter what, the kids are shielded.

Speaking of the kids, they’re currently having a passionate discussion about who among them will reach the Gate the fastest—and yeah, there’s not a chance in hell that’s happening, Steve thinks, but they don’t need to know that yet.

It’s when the debate specifically turns to who’s the best swimmer that he notices the switch in Eddie’s breathing, air sucked in through clenched teeth. A glance behind confirms Steve’s suspicions; Eddie’s breaking away from the party, his face white, eyes steadfastly on the forest floor.

Steve leaves him be, doesn’t draw any attention to it—but he keeps watch in his peripheral, so he spots exactly when Eddie staggers off, soon swallowed up by the trees. He can still hear his footsteps, though, which is reassuring.

Slowly, making sure it seems casual, Steve bends down and picks up the smallest rock he can find, rubs his thumb across it to make sure the edges are smooth enough.

He throws, hits his target: the back of Dustin’s head.

Predictably, Dustin whirls around, mouth already open to voice his indignation.

Steve quickly puts a finger to his lips.

While Dustin doesn’t look all that thrilled about it, he obligingly stays silent. He’s damn quick on the uptake, of course; Steve can see the spark of understanding in his eyes when he notices that Eddie is missing.

He steps forward with urgency, but Steve’s just as quick to shake his head.

No, it’s okay. I’m on it.

He knows it’s not a coincidence that Eddie left so quietly—that having the kids see him in another moment of vulnerability is probably too much to handle on top of the ongoing nightmare he’s found himself in. Steve gets it; God, if he were in Eddie’s shoes, he’d be taking any opportunity that he could to get some privacy.

Even without words, it’s obvious that Dustin wants to protest, frowning hard.

Steve raises an eyebrow meaningfully. Dude, trust me.

Dustin heaves a silent, dramatic sigh, but he nods all the same.

Steve gestures for the water bottle Dustin’s got in his backpack. Mimes for Dustin to throw it to him.

Dustin brings out the bottle, but doesn’t throw it immediately, like he’s doubtful Steve will make the catch.

Steve rolls his eyes. Seriously? Dickhead.

Dustin rolls his eyes right back.

When he throws the bottle, Steve catches it one-handed as a point of pride.

Dustin’s theatrics grow: he gasps, all slack-jawed, wide-eyed disbelief; Steve flips him off.

Then Dustin taps his watch deliberately.

Steve softens, gives him a brief thumbs up before following where Eddie went. He looks back a couple of times, reassured by the sight of Robin and Nancy stopping and rearranging themselves so the group formation is kept up in his absence.

It doesn’t take long to find Eddie. He hears him first, harsh, bitten off retching—and while that’s not exactly a surprise, the sound still makes Steve’s heart sink.

Eddie’s doubled over, leaning against a tree with one hand. Steve feels a sudden impulse to pull his hair back for him but resists it—remembers Eddie violently flinching away from any touch in the boathouse.

So he just makes sure his presence is nice and obvious without being overwhelming—takes leisurely, even footsteps. He sits down opposite, just close enough that Eddie could reach out if he needed to.

But he doesn’t. He’s barely stopped retching before he’s trying to straighten up, grip slipping against the bark. Steve winces at the thought of splinters digging into his palm.

“Woah, man, take it easy—”

“M’fine,” Eddie mutters. He scoffs harshly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s shaking. “This is kinda normal for me now.”

His head’s still half bowed, hair falling across his face like he doesn’t want to be seen. It doesn’t stop Steve from noticing the evidence of tears on his face; he thinks they’re simply from the exertion of throwing up, but he can’t be sure.

“Just—just give yourself a minute,” Steve says. “We’ve got time.”

He stretches out right there on the ground, slow and deliberate. It takes a second or two before Eddie—after another wobbly attempt at standing—mirrors him: sinking down until he’s sat, back pressed up against the tree trunk.

Steve listens to his breathing. It’s lost that nauseated gritted teeth sound, but it hitches once, twice, and then—

“I can’t stop—” Eddie covers his face with his hands.

Steve shuffles closer. “You’re okay.”

But Eddie shakes his head. He drops his hands, leans his head back against the tree. His eyes are distant. Haunted. Steve doesn’t need to guess about what he’s seeing.

“Eddie—”

“You know the funniest thing?” Eddie gasps out, like it isn’t funny at all. “I keep thinking if—if only I hadn’t ditched swimming lessons, I might’ve l-learned something fucking useful.”

At a loss for what to say, Steve tries for something normal. Thinks back to high school, something far away from all of this…

“You showed up to swimming,” he says. “I remember.”

He does, though it’s faint.

Honestly, he spent as little time as he could changing in the showers, wanting to make the most out of time in the pool. He didn’t even goof off with Tommy H or any of the other guys, preferring to do solo laps in the deep end. It was repetitive, calming; he treated it like a vacation from the adrenaline of being on the swim team.

Then came that November, and the whole routine became an escape from much more.

Eddie gives him a look that might’ve passed for amusement at one point, if his breathing wasn’t still so shallow.

“Yeah, I—I showed up for, like, the first week, Harrington. Fucking Lewinsky stole my clothes, you only let that kinda thing happen once.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says sincerely. “I didn’t know.”

A wan flicker of a smile passes across Eddie’s face. “Of course you didn’t,” he says. It’s not an accusation. “You were, like, way too busy being part fish.”

Steve huffs a laugh through his nose, but Eddie doesn’t join in. Instead his breathing quickens, like the distraction of high school hasn’t been nearly enough.

“It’s just—I should’ve been more—should’ve known h-how to—” He shakes his head again. Swallows. “After Chr—”

He chokes on her name.

Steve reaches out, only to hesitate and leave his hand hovering in the air between them. “Hey, man, there’s nothing you could’ve—”

“What if it’s not a coincidence?” Eddie whispers. “What if there’s—there’s a… there’s gotta be a reason that—that it’s me.”

Steve moves closer still. Draws back at the last second; Eddie’s still trembling.

“That’s bullshit,” Steve says firmly.

Eddie laughs bitterly. “Is it? D-don’t fucking kid yourself, Harrington, s’not exactly looking good. Two people died r-right in front of me, and I just…” He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’d arrest me.”

“Stop, would you just—”

“Come on, man. You’ve gotta know, even if Wheeler and Buckley are still too polite to say it.” Eddie’s voice is soft in resignation. “I’m just wasting your time.”

It’s Steve’s turn to scoff. “Do you seriously think we’d be doing all of this if we thought you were a lost cause?”

Eddie shrugs, the sleeves of his leather jacket scraping against the bark. “There’s only so many signs a guy can ignore, right? Hell, even my watch has stopped, like I’m literally outta fucking time.”

“Okay, no wonder you failed English,” Steve says, “that is overwrought as shit, dude.”

The jab doesn’t quite land—his barely concealed worry just makes him sound sharp. Fraught.

But Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, and he finally seems speechless, and this is it, Steve realises, the one chance he has to get through to him.

“Nothing prepares you for this shit, Eddie,” he says—thinks of 1983, of seeing the impossible. Terrified out of his mind. “I mean it, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Nothing,” he adds pointedly, when it looks like Eddie might protest. “Chrissy, Patrick, it’s fucking awful what they—but it’s not—not a, um. Not a reflection on—it’s not your fault.”

It’s not enough, Steve knows it—feels acutely like a shitty school guidance counsellor, only able to parrot empty platitudes. He has to dig deeper.

He looks at Eddie directly, unflinching. Can read the fear lurking in his eyes, the one he keeps dancing around.

A fierce emotion floods Steve’s chest—like being flung into the deep end without warning, the water already over your head before you can take a breath.

He’s felt it before, mixed up in a wave of anger as he watched Powell raise that goddamn picture to the camera.

Don’t you go believing a word this town says about you, Eddie Munson. Don’t you dare.

Steve braves a touch, places a hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie doesn’t move.

“You’re not the curse, Eddie. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Eddie shudders. He looks away, but not quick enough to hide the definite tears this time.

Steve waits. He doesn’t move his hand for a long moment.

When Eddie’s finished roughly wiping at his face with his sleeve, Steve hands over the water bottle. He’s silently relieved that Eddie takes it without a fight, like accepting even this smallest amount of help means there’s still a part of him that hasn’t given up yet.

There’s still hope.

After a few sips, Eddie sets the water bottle aside. He’s breathing deeper now, and when he looks up, his eyes have that keen, almost analytical gaze.

“What’s…?” he murmurs, and then he’s the one that’s reaching out, as if without thinking, fingertips lightly brushing against Steve’s forehead.

He feels cold, Steve thinks. Like he’s still half frozen from falling into the lake.

“Did you… cut yourself on something?” Eddie says.

Steve’s about to say no automatically before he remembers.

“Right, yeah. Um, our flashlights kinda… exploded when…”

He trails off. Watches with sympathy as Eddie fills in the gaps.

“Oh,” Eddie says very quietly.

He keeps following the trail of the cut—Steve can still feel the chill of him: the light pressure travelling across his skin, like Eddie needs the motion to stay calm.

“Ow,” Eddie says, hushed, almost as if it happened to him, too. “You’re lucky you didn’t get glass in your eye, dude.”

Steve doesn’t say what he’s thinking—that he’d have dealt with it, that he would’ve been fine—because he thinks he understands: that maybe by focusing on something small, it helps keep Eddie here, temporarily blocks out the sight of Chrissy and Patrick’s deaths.

He checks his watch. They’re just creeping up on fifteen minutes; they’d better make tracks soon.

He stands but not abruptly, conscious of not rushing Eddie unnecessarily.

“If we cut across, uh, this way,” he demonstrates with one hand as Eddie gets to his feet, “we’ll catch up pretty quick. Don’t need Henderson’s compass to tell me the way. Honestly, he acts like he knows places better than me when I’ve known them, like, all my life. He does it all the damn time.”

Eddie lets out a laugh that still sounds slightly wet; he sniffs as if to cover up the sound. His smile is shaky at best, but it seems genuine.

“Man, he does that to me, too. What is up with that? Last week, he swore he found some shortcut to the Hellfire room that I’d be totally unaware of, like I’ve not spent forever in the damn building.”

He falls into step with Steve as they walk on, and Steve catches the very slight grimace he makes as he swallows.

Steve checks his jeans pocket. It turns out luck is on his side, at least for this: he’s got a couple of mints, still unwrapped.

When he offers some to Eddie, he gets a heartfelt thanks in reply. But at the same time, Eddie also looks suspiciously close to fighting a smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing!” But the smirk’s definitely won; Eddie tucks the mint into the corner of his mouth as he says, “Just didn’t realise I was getting the full Skull Rock experience.”

It takes a second for Steve to catch on. “The experience—?”

Eddie’s smirk grows. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Steve snorts. “Fuck off, are you twelve?”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, halfway to singsong.

Steve shakes his head, half in amusement, half in thought. Sharing juvenile kisses with girls at Skull Rock feels a world away, almost like it happened to someone else. That’s not even why the mints were in his pocket in the first place—not that he’s gonna put a dampener on Eddie’s teasing or anything. In truth, the habit began the night after Starcourt, using a mint—despite his stinging mouth—to help keep himself awake.

Of course he doesn’t say all of that. Chooses instead to nudge Eddie in the side, fighting a smirk of his own.

Eddie acts like he’s been dramatically winded in response, makes a crack about how that move wouldn’t fall under the Skull Rock experience.

Steve thinks he’s getting a handle on how to read him, charting the improvement of his mood through just how stupid he sounds—when smiling no longer seems like it’ll fracture his face from the strain.

By the time they catch up with the others, they’re both stifling laughter (Steve keeps having to remind himself that this is technically a stealth mission), Eddie reaching across to mess with Steve’s hair in retaliation for being repeatedly nudged in the ribs. His hands feel warmer now, Steve realises with a smile, as he pushes Eddie back with a forearm against his chest.

For the most part, it looks like their disappearances haven’t been noticed—Nancy quietly moving to rejoin Robin at the front as if by chance. Steve knows better, knows everything has been carefully coordinated to look that way; as Eddie relaxes at his side, he feels a rush of gratitude for the group’s tact.

Granted, Dustin kind of breaks the illusion when he turns around and starts walking backwards—but what he lacks in subtlety he makes up for in entertainment: using needlessly big, questioning gestures, brow furrowed in concentration.

When Dustin widens his eyes impatiently, Steve relents and nudges Eddie again. “He’s not gonna stop til you respond, trust me.”

“Hmm? Oh.”

Eddie lifts up Dustin’s water bottle with a grin and gives a thumbs up with his free hand.

Dustin brightens, replying with a thumbs up of his own—still stubbornly walking backwards like it’s simply his preferred way to travel.

“Gonna bet on how long it takes for him to fall flat on his face?” Steve says in an undertone.

Eddie snorts in a way that can’t be disguised as anything else, though he gives it a shot with the world’s least convincing cough. He gives up in the next breath, chuckling through a, “Steve,” in joking disapproval, like Steve’s such a terrible influence, which just sets them both off again.

Dustin’s probably too far away to hear them properly, but he’s clearly got the gist, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He does a series of emphatic gestures that Steve can’t make sense of; it just looks like he’s doing a complicated mime for charades.

Eddie must get the same impression because he soon calls out with a shit-eating grin, “Book or movie?”

Dustin flips them both off, but he can’t quite pull off the deadpan expression, his lips twitching, and Steve knows for sure that he’s hiding a laugh when he turns back around to walk with Max and Lucas.

Eddie smiles as if he’s noticed the same thing. He jostles their shoulders one last time, and it feels like there’s something more intentional behind it. A touch that lingers.

It’s easy when there’s still a long walk ahead of them—when there’s still daylight—to be convinced that they’ve got all the time in the world. Steve’s become kind of an expert at it: in his head, he could make swimming lessons last forever.

But even that old trick doesn’t last; he feels the clock restart as soon as that damn vine wraps around his ankle, cold and unyielding.

In the split second before being dragged under the lake, all he can think is thank God the kids aren’t here.

The thought follows him all the way into The Upside Down—later joined by the fervent wish that he could somehow summon up Dustin’s water bottle, as his head spins through the hopefully staunched bat bites.

“Christ, Harrington,” Eddie says when the dizziness persists, and Steve barely catches himself before falling against a vineless tree. “D’you ever take your own advice?”

“What?” Steve says faintly.

He screws up his eyes, forces himself to blink until his vision doesn’t waver—braces his weight against the tree with a sigh, ready to push himself up—

But Eddie’s hand is suddenly on top of his, halting him.

“Just… wait,” Eddie says. “Just a minute.”

Steve doesn’t know if it is a minute; he tries to keep track in his head, but the seconds slip away from him, and all he can focus on is each breath he takes, until they lose that gasping edge, grow deeper. Slower.

The world sharpens around him, like he’s been underwater without realising and has finally broken through to the surface. He feels the muted scratch of damp wood beneath his palm. The pressure of Eddie’s hand—not enough to hurt, but enough for Steve to tell that he’s still freaked out.

“I’m okay,” he says, looking Eddie in the eye. Does his best to silently project the sentiment of I’m not gonna collapse on you, I promise. “We’re not far from Nancy’s place.”

He can see a flicker of light just ahead, off to the side—thankfully not spots in his vision, just the flashlight he gave to Robin and Nancy; he’d tried to make it sound like he was doing them a favour when he actually thought it’d be best to leave both his hands free, just in case he did end up collapsing. At least he’d have a chance to brace for a fall.

There’s an uncertain air to how the girls are walking, and Steve suspects they feel a little like him: at a loss without the kids sandwiched between them. Now the usual priorities are thrown to the wind; what do you do when you want to shield everyone, all at once?

Eddie’s surveying him like he’s far from convinced by his definition of ‘okay.’

Still, he laughs weakly and says, “Good to know your navigating skills still work in this fucking hellhole.”

Steve’s hand shifts beneath Eddie’s as he stands up properly; it’s only then that Eddie moves away.

“Not far, not far,” he’s muttering under his breath, like he’s trying to reassure himself. His voice cracks in quiet desperation, “God, how long have we even been down here?”

Steve glances down to his wrist. He’s met with a watch face that’s smashed, jagged cracks running through it so he can’t even read the time it must’ve stopped at.

“Hey,” Steve says wryly, tilting his wrist so Eddie can see, “we match.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even crack a smile. His eyes just go all big and dismayed, like he’s looking at something far worse than a broken watch.

Steve suddenly wants to tell him that it’s fine, to cover up his wrist like it’s somehow more gruesome than the wounds on his stomach—maybe it is, because Eddie keeps staring like he’s bleeding out right in front of him.

“Shit, Steve,” Eddie whispers with this horrible, helpless little laugh—almost like he’s on the verge of tears. He sounds like he did after throwing up, trying to say that something was funny when it was anything but. “You’ve had that forever.”

And Steve feels a rush of something still too big and complex to name, flickers of emotion too rapid to keep track of: the initial pang of sadness he’d pushed aside because the watch had been his grandfather’s, after all; wondering faintly what classes Eddie had shared with him, that would allow him enough time to notice something so small, you’ve had that forever—

So what? Steve thinks. So what, what does it fucking matter?

He’d rip the watch off if it’d help, Eddie’s too, stamp and grind them down until they’re indistinguishable from the ash in this place, and who gives a shit if it’s overwrought, it doesn’t have to mean anything—they still have time; they’re owed it.

He doesn’t do any of that, because the ground shakes again, and he’s ready—anticipates the stumble Eddie makes and reaches out to correct it.

They land safely away from any vines.

Eddie’s hand is clamped around his wrist, right at the part where the watch strap used to rub against his skin—back in sophomore year, when he’d always put it on too tight in fear of losing it; “Sorry, sorry,” Eddie’s mouthing, out of breath from the fall, but Steve’s holding on just as tightly, can feel Eddie’s pulse thundering beneath his fingertips.

And it’s so fast and frantic that Steve thinks he can hear it, too, a sound that he can’t get away from, in spite of it all: like a clock ticking. Counting down.

WRIST WATCH The explosive time shackle That never goes off Eternal zero Synchronize your deaths —Philip Murray

#s4 missing scenes we are so back baby #the hike from Skull Rock to Lover’s Lake #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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eiightysixbaby · 5 months

Text

santa baby

eddie munson x fem!reader

2.3k

summary: watching eddie play santa for your kids makes you want to show him some…. appreciation

cw: 18+ ONLY. reader and eddie are married & have kids, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink

Presents in crinkly patterned paper are placed delicately under the tree, your nimble fingers making sure each bow is perfect and every tag that reads ‘From: Santa’ is visible.

Eddie tip-toes into the living room from your bedroom, the final stack of gifts in his arms. Your two daughters sleep soundly in their beds, likely dreaming of those sugarplums the stories talk about. He hands you each present one by one, letting you find the perfect place for them around the base of your glittering tree. The tiny colored lightbulbs cast a pretty pink glow throughout the room, and it fills your heart with warmth.

When you’ve finished your work, you turn to see Eddie filling the stockings, the ball of his Santa hat bobbing with each movement. He hangs each one back on the mantle with so much care, he wouldn’t want to drop one and send one of your little ones running to see what caused the noise. A fire crackles in the fireplace, fending off the cold of the snowy landscape outside.

“Is that everything?” he double checks, giving you a sweet grin.

“Not quite. Santa has to eat his cookies,” you tease, moving closer to him and tugging on his hat as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Damn, how could I forget these delicious cookies?” he asks, kissing you on your cheek and squeezing a healthy handful of your ass before moving towards the small table that holds a plate of sugar cookies. You giggle, still blushing like you did the day you met him.

You can’t help but smile when you turn to look at the baked treats, each one having been eagerly frosted by tiny hands. The girls had done their very best, and you know your husband certainly won’t complain about a little too much icing dripping down the sides. A glass of milk rests beside the plate, and Eddie takes a hearty sip of it after polishing off his first cookie.

It makes your heart swell, the way he breaks off one little bit of the second cookie to leave on the plate. A tiny splash of milk rests in the bottom of the cup. To make it look as though Santa couldn’t quite finish it all. This is the first year your girls are both old enough to really enjoy and get excited about the holiday, and it makes you so happy to witness it through their eyes.

Having a partner that plays along perfectly only makes it sweeter. Honestly, Eddie has probably been more into it than you, making everything so fun for your children. He stops at nothing to make them happy, to make things magical for them. He makes things magical for you, too, and it fills you with an impossible amount of joy.

To your surprise, it also fills you with need. A deep, hot desire for the man you’ve made a home with. It’s insatiable, the way it hits you like a train. Something about watching him play up this whimsical figure for the sake of your kids, something about him in that damn Santa hat. Before you realize it, he catches you staring as he sits back in the comfy chair, his eyes meeting yours and his face breaking into a cheeky smile. You might as well be drooling.

“What’re you looking at, Mrs. Claus?” he asks, stretching his arms behind his head, his pajama-clad legs spreading wide.

“I just think…” you start, stalking closer to him, eyes trained on his. “That Santa works so hard…” you murmur, sinking onto your knees between his legs. “Maybe he deserves to be properly thanked.”

“Oh—” Eddie gasps when your hand palms over his clothed cock, feeling it stiffen against your touch.

Wasting not even a second you tug his pants down, his hips raising to help you, and you feel your eyes blow wider at the sight of him. You’ll never get tired of seeing his cock — never. The way it leaks for you, the way he gets so hard from the simplest things that you do. You open your mouth, letting the weight of him rest heavy on your tongue. Licking the tip gently, you run your fingers up and down one of his legs.

“Baby,” he sighs, tipping his head back a bit. “What got into you?”

“Jus’ something about watchin’ you play Santa…” you say, kissing the tip of his cock. “You’re so good to us. To me. Wanna worship you for it,” you say softly, blinking up at him.

And God, how could he turn you down?

“The girls, what if they—?”

“Just be quiet, and they won’t,” you say like it’s simple, and he doesn’t have a moment to respond before you’re kissing your way down his shaft.

He’s struck dumb when you take the head into your mouth, suckling on it with pretty lips. One hand reaches up to grip the base of him, your tongue licking his slit. A heavy breath leaves his nose, his lips pressed in a thin line. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair so tight it could rip.

You glance up at him, licking a long and slow stripe up the underside of his length. His eyes are half-lidded and dazed as he stares down at you, watching in disbelief. You stop teasing, then, taking him as far into your mouth as he’ll go. Your nose brushes the patch of coarse hair that sits at his base, exhaling through your nose as you adjust to the way he presses against the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers when you start to bob your head, trying your very best to keep the wet, slurping sounds to a minimum.

The hand that was gripping his shaft moves down to his balls, squeezing softly as you hollow your cheeks around him. You can hear the way he struggles to quiet the groans that claw their way up his throat, his breathing ragged. His hands reach up, yanking the Santa hat off so his fingers can run through his hair, tangling themselves in it.

“Christ, baby, thatfeelssogood,” he rushes out, voice breathy. “Your mouth is fuckin’ perfect.”

You pull off of him, still rolling the flesh of his heavy balls between your fingers. You make out with the head of his cock, tongue running over it, saliva dripping everywhere. He takes a handful of your hair, pulling gently to make you look up at him.

“Get up here. Right now,” he says. You know he’s trying to be demanding, but he sounds so fucked out it doesn’t quite work. It makes you want him even more.

Following instruction, you climb onto his lap and straddle it, but not before slipping off your pajama pants. With just your underwear separating his cock from your heat, you grind your hips down on him, sucking in a sharp breath when his tip nudges your clit. His strong hands guide your movements, taking control as he peppers kisses on your jawline, making you tilt your head back in pleasure.

“Need you inside me, Ed, please,” you croon, your breaths staggered.

“I don’t know, have you been a good girl this year? Do you deserve it?” he taunts, raising his brows at you. His teasing holds no weight, he has every intention of giving it to you, but you still nod.

“Been so good,” you say softly, teeth tugging at his earlobe.

A strangled, breathy sound leaves him before he’s shoving your panties to the side, running a thick finger through your wet folds. Wet is an understatement, honestly. You’re soaked for him, and he’s barely done anything to you.

“God damn, honey,” he growls low in your ear. “You’re so wet.” His teeth nip at your jaw before moving to your neck, his lips planting themselves on the delicate skin and sucking. “Watching me play Santa really got you that hot, huh?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren’t so needy for him you’d roll your eyes. But unfortunately, he’s right.

You whine instead, a featherlight sound that he almost misses through the crackling of the fire. He grips his cock, lining himself up with you as you hover above his lap. You reach down to help him, guiding him into your aching heat as you slowly sink down. You gasp in unison when he parts your walls, each of your mouths hanging open until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Calloused fingers press into your doughy hips, beginning to bounce you on his thick cock. A high-pitched squeak escapes you when you feel him press deep inside, and he instantly covers your mouth with one big palm. He stills his movements.

“Remember when you told me to be quiet? Hm? Now you can’t control yourself?” he whispers hotly in your ear, his breath making your skin prickle.

His hand is removed from your mouth in favor of guiding the roll of your hips once more, keeping you bouncing steadily. You can hear the way his cock glides through your sticky folds, pushing in and pulling out and pushing back in again. His eyes are impossibly dark as they watch you, especially in the dim light, but you can see the lust and adoration burning behind them all the same. You swear you can feel him in every inch of your body as he pushes himself as deep as he can possibly go, making you drop your forehead against his and bite back a moan.

One of his hands pulls the hem of your shirt up in order to expose your breasts to him, his open palm giving the first one a squeeze before rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching. Your back straightens slightly, arching into his touch. He dips his head down, sucking on the nipple his fingers aren’t already toying with. He kisses the soft swells of flesh, nipping and sucking gently while you start to take some control, bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters around a mouthful of your tits, his tongue flicking over the sensitive buds on each one.

He diverts his attention, moving away from your breasts and instead reaching a hand down down down to where your bodies connect. The pad of his thumb swipes over your clit, making a filthy, desperate huff leave your mouth. You’re getting so close, your body desperate for him to bring you to release.

“Eds,” you sigh, rolling your hips slowly on top of him, savoring every single second of this bliss.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone. He smiles at you, soft and sweet as he continues to circle your clit.

“So good,” you breathe, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach grow and grow. “Want you to cum, baby, give it all to me.”

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” he taunts, leaning forward and catching your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get you pregnant again? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Everything in you screams yes. Your hormones are on overdrive, wanting him to pump you full of his seed and make it stick.

“Fuck, yes, Eddie,” you agree, throwing your head back.

He bucks his hips up, his cock stretching you so deliciously, reaching the deepest parts of you. His lips kiss any part of your skin they can reach as you completely fall apart for him. Your walls clench so tightly around him as you cum, drenching his cock in your arousal. Giving you a few final thrusts, his movements get less precise as he unravels. Soft grunts leave his mouth as he fucks you through his orgasm, ropes of cum painting your walls in spurts. You cling to him, panting as you recover from your high. Gentle hands rub your back, sliding up under your shirt and soothing you with repetitive motions.

“I love you,” you say softly, crossing your eyes to watch as he presses a kiss to your nose. One reaches your lips immediately after; a drawn-out, lingering kiss that you don’t want to ever end.

“I love you, too,” he says, millimeters away from your mouth after he pulls away. You feel it, almost overwhelmingly, in the way he holds you close.

You shift on his lap, letting him pull out of you carefully. Your thighs are sticky with your own arousal and his as it drips out of you, but you don’t want to leave his comforting embrace. The warmth from the fireplace kisses your skin, making you sleepy in Eddie’s arms. You take his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band, a pleased hum reverberating within you.

He turns, looking at the clock that rests on the mantle. Just after midnight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“Merry Christmas, handsome,” you coo, reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his face.

“Can we make this a Christmas tradition?” he asks, giving you a cheeky smile as he pinches the fat of your ass.

“Whatever you want, Mr. C,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

The night ends with the both of you creeping quietly down the hallway to your bedroom, tangling yourselves beneath warm blankets. Snow falls outside, you can see it through the gap in the curtains as sleep starts to take over your body. Blinking slowly, heavily, you feel Eddie’s strong arms wrap around you, pressing you close to his chest.

In the morning, your girls will wake you with unbridled excitement, ready to see what Santa brought them. But for now, it’s just you and the man himself, dreaming cozy winter dreams.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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mariasont · 5 days

Text

Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe.

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet.

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly.

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment.

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?"

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door.

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought.

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside.

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet.

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content.

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it.

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office.

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough.

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest.

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl.

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch.

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?"

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away.

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa hotchner #agent hotchner #cm #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #Spotify

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irndad · 1 year

Text

double vision in a rose blush -s.r.

a/n: first fic in like a year and my first spencer fic! please let me know what you think!

summary: she is the best part of his days, his life, these days, really. the only problem is she never touches him. s/o to @bitesizedgremlin for writing the most adorable touch starved spence fic that got me 🥰

wc: 1.6k

He loves looking at her.

It feels hedonistic, like drinking a too-expensive wine. Looking at her brings a warmth that spreads all throughout him, like threaded gold embedded in her movements. It’s a lovely kind of ache, how she can bring the most open, the most raw parts of him to the surface. She is captivating, the way she laughs, the way she moves, the slightest intonation of affection she offers him in her tone.

Tonight, she sits across from him at the team’s favorite bar. She’s wearing a deep emerald green top, the kind of thing that makes her look like something out of a dream.

It’s not like it shows how much he likes her. He hopes it doesn’t.

Sure, people tease them. She’s a consultant with their teams, one with a desk right next to his one. He initially thought he’d hate the company, but even on their first meeting, she was relentlessly kind. She had sat next to him, wearing a beautiful periwinkle sweater, and somehow he was talking for far too long about how the original blue pigments were sometimes made from toxic materials and how much modern effort it took to make a sweater that color.

He’d felt a familiar humiliation, the knowledge that a beautiful woman had sat down next to him and offered him kindness, and he’d met her with his own personal brand of anti-charisma.

But she hadn’t interrupted him. In fact, she granted him maybe the most welcoming, kind smile that he’s ever seen in his life.

And she’d asked more about the pigment.

Spencer- he’d never known the kind of affection she offers so freely. It almost reminds him of Penelope- how open she is, how kind. Objectively, he knows she likes him at least a little bit. He’s a profiler, and he can tell at least that much.

The hitch is, he’s the only one she doesn’t touch.

Morgan gets shoulder brushes. Penelope hugs, and he even remembers her once giving Rossi a warm squeeze of her hand. But not him. Even now, she sits across from him after having held Morgan in a long hug of greeting.

He looks up at her, her pretty fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. She moves with such grace, no matter what the action. The way she tops her head back, how a lovely grin spreads across her face. He’d give anything not to be her exception. To be one of the people she touches.

“What you thinking there, wonder kid?” She says, and somehow her voice carries across the crowded bar. He thinks he could pick her voice out anywhere.

“Nothing really,” he says back. He never likes the way his voice sounds around her. He wants to be confident, smooth, like Morgan. She leaves him too weak for it. “How are you feeling?”

“I am wondrous, Spencer.” She’s leaning into his space. Her tone is just a little shaky, influenced by the alcohol. He’s near enough to smell the lily-scented perfume she wears, and it’s everything in him not to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He’d gotten it for her for Christmas.

He remembers her reaction to it, unwrapping the bow and wrapping he’d sent an hour trying to make perfect. It was one of the few times she touched him, however brief- a squeeze of his hand and that earnestly grateful look- the image kept him warm all year. She’d worn it to work more often than not. It brought him a shameful sense of satisfaction.

She carries me with her. She has a piece of me with her wherever she goes.

I want to be touched by you, he thinks, I want to be the one doing the touching. What is it about him? He knows his limbs are a little spindle-y, and he’s not exactly experienced in most forms of physical expression. But he could be, if he was given the chance. If it was with her. It’s not something he could say, though.

“You look lovely,” he says, unprompted. “I love that shirt on you.”

She flushes, and almost, almost, touches his knee in thanks. He preens at the praise, even though it’s not verbal. She’s just so beautiful. It’s always been about more than beauty for him, the mind behind the doe eyes and sweet smile.

Still, it’s hard to deny how much of an effect she has on him- how she can glance at him with that honey sweet look, how the red on her lips has him wondering what it would taste like. If there could ever be anything better. Without thinking, he grabs one of her hands; it looks just so pretty in his own. He runs his thumb over her knuckles. It’s like electricity, passing through them.

There has to be something he’s done. There has to be, if she touches everyone but him. He always notices, but tonight, with liquor and courage in his chest, he wants to ask. If he knows, if there’s something- maybe he can fix it. Maybe then she’ll put her pretty hands on him just like this. Touch him in any way she wants.

It wouldn’t be close to what he wants. But it would be something.

“Hey,” his voice comes out uneven and shaky, but his eyes are locked on hers, “I-I’m sorry if I’ve done something.”

Her face blooms into an adorably confused expression.

“I-,” His stutter jumps out but he’s still holding her hand, and it’s so soft and his stomach just won’t stop that flipping feeling and he just cannot let go, “I know you like to touch people. I don’t know if I-I’ve done something, but you- you never touch me.”

Suddenly, the bar feels a good bit quieter, and her eyes feel like they can see right through him. Her hands are the only thing tethering him here.

“I don’t touch you?”

“Touch is actually one of the most well-regarded indicators of closeness and geniality in personal relationship.”

“Spencer-“

“It stands to reason that if you touch everyone but me, there should be a reason and it’s like something that I would have done to offend you.”

“Hey-“

“I just want you to like me.”

Her face, the most beautiful face he’d ever seen- softens into a delicate expression of fondness.

“Spence,” and god, doesn’t that sound lovely, “I thought you didn’t like touching.”

He pouts without thinking, and all thoughts leave his mind when her other hand reaches out to hold his face, her fingers on the junction of his chin and neck, stroking the side of his cheek.

The truth of it is he thinks of her hands on him in every way. Pictures hands laced together, her graceful fingers running through his hair as they lay on his couch.

He’s imagined kissing her way too many times.

“Not with you. You’re different.”

He’s too honest. But it’s overwhelming. Her hand in his, the other brushing delicately over his face. He leans into it, a little too eager, but the sensation of it is just too much not to.

“Remember the second day of me being with the team? You told Garcia she’s the only one allowed to touch you?”

“I think so?”

“Well, I like to repeat your boundaries.”

“I like you to touch me.”

She tips her head back, laughing, and she looks ethereal, the kind of smile gracing her face that’d have you believe everything you’ve every worried about in your god-forsaken life was worth it to witness this.

“I’d like to touch you too, Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer,” he says, realizing how close they are. Lilies. He’s overplaying his hand. He’s a friend at work, he wants to remind himself. He’s the guy who bought her perfume and hands her files and gets her coffee and that does not mean the same thing as a partner. He’s not even the kind of person someone like her would want.

It’s just hard to remember that.

“Spencer,” she says, more tender than anyone else had ever been with him., “I could be reading this wrong, but-“

It’s actually a small distance, kissing her. If she’d been more than a few inches from his face then he wouldn’t have done it. But she was so close, and she smiles into him, open and warm and his arms are around her waist, hers cradling his face, and it’s more touch than he knows what to do with, far less than anything he’d be willing to give up.

It lasts a languid second and then ends too soon, her gorgeous eyes meeting his own, her basically in his lap. He knows that this is basically a bar-kiss between two coworkers, and that it is unlikely to be anything but that, but he kind of needs it to not be. Needs it to be more.

“I don’t-I don’t know if you wanted to do that or if you want me to stop, but I really, really like you, and I know we work together and you might not like me back, I mean, probably not, right? But-“

“Spencer.” Her soft fingers are still brushing against his face, and he can’t help but be grateful for it. “I’m free tomorrow night.”

He’s not usually good at deciphering social cues that don’t relate to serial killers, but this one- it seems intentional. Her hands move from his cheek (and he winces, visibly) before wrapping both arms around his neck. It’s awfully romantic to be anything else.

“Do you want to be my plans?”

“Yes.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer Park Steve AU part 7

part 1 | part 6 | chapter 1 on ao3

cw: panic attack, ptsd flashback to minor character death, graphic depictions of… food? lol

Dinner is exactly as chaotic as Steve expected it to be. He and Claudia take opposite end seats with a glass of red wine each, and the kids take the middle and start acting like a pack of caffeinated raccoons: talking over each other, scraping forks against plates, stretching their entire upper bodies across the table and dragging their sleeves through the side dishes instead of just asking someone to pass them the butter; Steve’s starting to wonder if any of these kids have ever eaten at a table before, or if they maybe just wandered in from the surrounding woods. Feral asses.

When they do start asking for things, he regrets wishing they would, because Lucas goes “Erica, can you pass me the salt?” and Erica sneers “I don’t know, can I?” and Mike jabs “Whatever; nobody says ‘may’ anymore, you dork” and Claudia gasps “Michael!” and it all escalates from there until Dustin tries to catapult lasagna off the end of his fork and hits Steve in the side of the head with a glob of warm cheese.

Silence falls around the room.

The cheese plops onto his plate.

“Sh-ii-it,” Dustin breathes, face stuck in wide-eyed shock.

Steve gives Claudia an imploring look.

“Why don’t we clear the table for dessert?”

The commotion starts up again in double time, everyone scrambling to clean up and clear the room before Steve starts bitching about them messing up his hair (and his plate, and his clothes, because the cheese splash sent a spray of little tomato sauce droplets splattering all over him, and isn’t that just perfect; he’s gonna have to hand-scrub the stain out of his khakis), so it’s just him and Dustin left when Dustin’s elbow catches and tips over his wine.

The liquid spills onto his plate: dark, and red, oozing into the uneaten scraps of sauce and cheese and pasta to form a viscous, fleshy sludge. Red like his dad’s office, like his father’s mangled thigh, and it’s just food it’s just food it’s not blood it’s not blood but he can’t fucking breathe, can’t hearing anything beyond the wet, gasping sounds his dad made the night he died, and then he realizes that he’s making them, mouth moving fruitlessly around air that won’t pass, trapped in the bottleneck of his choked-off windpipe.

“Steve?” Dustin asks, and his voice sounds far away. “Shit, shit, Steve! Can you hear me? Are you choking? I know the Heimlich, just- just hold on!”

He snaps out of it when Dustin pulls him halfway from his chair, gets his fists under his ribs and all but punches the air from his lungs. It sets off a nasty coughing fit that leaves Steve snotty and ready to hurl, and he braces himself with his forearms on his knees and stares hard at the ground until the hacking finally stops.

There’s a scuff on his sneakers.

He can’t replace them any time soon.

A moment to catch his breath, and Dustin’s shaking him by the shoulders. “Are you okay??”

Steve keeps his head bowed. “Yeah.” He needs to get the fuck out of here. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He rises from his chair, grateful that everyone else already cleared out before they could witness his little moment, that the blare of the TV from the family room covered the sound of his retching coughs; more grateful still that they won’t notice him now, scampering out of here with his tail between his legs. “Hey listen, man, I’m not feeling so well,” he says absently, fishing his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Can you get your mom to drive everyone home?”

“Shouldn’t you stay?” Dustin frowns in concern. “If you’re sick? You can go lie down in my room or something, it’s—”

“—Nah, man; I mean, thanks, but…” His hand trembles around his keys, the muscles in his calves screaming bolt, bolt, bolt. “I just- I gotta go.”

He makes a break for it, rushing out the side door so no one else will see him leave (and he knows it’s fucking rude to head out without saying goodbye, but he’s also pretty convinced he’s going to combust if he doesn’t go right now.) “Tell your mom I said thanks, okay?”

“Tell her yourself!” Dustin chases after him, clumsy and slow across the darkened yard. “Dude, will you slow down? Talk to me!”

Steve throws himself into his car like there’s a demodog on his heels. “I’ll call you!”

“What the fuck!” Dustin shouts, but Steve’s already gone.

—

part 8

tagging a few people i know have been following along 🩷 @slowandsteddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @pennyplainknits @ledleaf @hellion-child @formosusiniquis @missjashin @runninriot @xpaperheartso @steddieas-shegoes

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve harrington fic #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #mike wheeler #tw: panic attack #tw: ptsd

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

Text

1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: After Aegon experienced a near death experience under the lack of supervision of Daemon, a heated convo between Leyla and him soon follows.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Stop that Baelon,” Daemon warned the young boy but still, he continues to bang his toy against the wall, creating a loud noise. Daemon was in Leyla’s solar, all three kids there with him and 2 handmaidens with the children.

The banging noise still continued as Daemon became more agitated. “I said stop it Baelon!” He yelled, slamming his hand on the table making all the kids flinch and stare at their father with wide eyes. The handmaidens too were surprised at Daemon’s loudness, especially because he rarely ever yelled at the children.

“Listen to what I tell you the first time,” He snaps as Baelon looks down, Alyssa sitting beside him rubs his shoulder in comfort. Daemon sighs, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to yell at his son. His head was swarming with thoughts. Thoughts about how it was his fault that Aegon was so close to being seriously injured, or worst dead.

Leyla wasn’t feeling well in the morning so Daemon too responsibility of looking after the children during breakfast. It wasn’t hard to do and yet he still managed to fuck it up by not paying attention to Aegon who crawled his way to the descending stairs. Thank the gods Alicent was walking past and saw the young boy one step away from falling.

A knock comes from the double doors, “Come in,” Daemon calls out. It was one of Leyla’s handmaidens. “Lady Leyla wishes to see you, my Prince,” She bows before leaving. Daemon stared at the empty space where the handmaiden once stood.

He lets out a breath before standing up and walking over to where Alyssa, Baelon and Aegon sat playing with their toys. “Behave please,” He says before kissing each of their foreheads and ruffling Baelon’s hair.

Daemon knew that Leyla was beyond mad. He didn’t blame her, after all, it was his fault for not paying attention and letting Aegon come to a near death experience. Walking the familiar route to the nursery, he walked into the room without knocking.

He shut the door behind him before looking at Leyla. Their newborn, Alys, in her arms, crying. He watched as she rocked her to soothe her down. Her back facing Daemon.

“What were you thinking?” She spat, her face red. Daemon couldn’t find it in himself to say anything, so instead, he only kept his gaze to the floor. Angered at the lack of response, Leyla brings her hand up and slaps Daemon’s face, her hand tingling.

Daemon rolls his tongue against his cheek before meeting eyes with his wife. “It was a simple mistake-“ “A simple mistake?” She scoffed, “The handmaidens should have been keeping an eye on him as-“ “Do not blame the handmaidens for your mistake Daemon. I trusted you with looking after the children! How can I do that know when Aegon nearly fell down the stairs and could have died. All because of what? Rhaenyra was it?” She fumed, Leyla’s eyesight were blurred by the tears that formed in her eyes.

It pained her that her son was near close to death, thank god Alicent quickly took Aegon before he took another step. It pained her even more that Daemon was there and did not pay attention to their child.

She was told by her handmaidens that Rhaenyra had arrived, he carelessly went to greet her whilst leaving Aegon one step away from the steps that descended. “Thank the Gods that my sister was walking past,” She muttered, shaking her head.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to Aegon, or to any of our children for that matter” Daemon quietly spoke as Leyla looked at him. “Neither would I, Husband,” She said through gritted teeth as Daemon looked at Leyla. “If you didn’t go and greet Rhaenyra, none of this would have happened in the first place!” She shouted, frustrated at her husband.

“Like I said, it was a mistake Leyla!” Daemon groaned, pulling at his hair as he starts to pace around the nursery. “A mistake that could have cost us our child!” She fired back, this time, hot tears had managed to cascade down her rosy cheeks. “I know, I know, hey- listen to me Leyla,” Daemon takes ahold of Leyla’s face.

“I am so fucking sorry. And I love you, so so much, and our beautiful children,” He softly says, his forehead against hers as he looks down at Alys before making eye contact with Leyla. “You can’t just push your children aside when Rhaenyra appears, Daemon.” He moves away from him and to the crib to lay Alys down.

“I know you haven’t seen her in some time, but do not forget your children whenever she’s there,” She bites her lips softly, looking down at Alys who’s looking right up at her. “I know that and I am so sorry,” He engulfs her in a hug from behind, his arms protectively wrapping themselves around her small figure.

Leyla lets out a sigh before caving in and leaning her head against Daemon’s chest.

taglist

@writtingforfun @bellstwd @sesamepancakes @bunbunbl0gs @ajthefujoshi @mxtokko @xcinnamonmalfoyx

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aryxchse · 1 month

Note

can i request relationship hcs w jason pls? ur writing for him is so cute

jason grace dating headcanons

a / n ; ur so sweet wtf?? i love u, keep complimenting me n my ass will be floating soon girlie 🫶🏻🫶🏻

warnings ; cursing and i said sexy like once, also female reader AGAIN

- alright here's my favorite gentleman

- scary dog privilege fr

- he's cold to everyone but you

- everytime you hug him he'll spin you around in the air with him

- cloud dates

- he's your personal fridge in the hot weathers

- likes carrying you in his arms

- and like he does it so often

- will tie your shoes for you

- and will help you with your homeworks

- if you guys go different collages, he'll drop you off first

- carries your stuff for you

- do ya'll know that one korean boy who has the biggest heart eyes? yeah he's jason

- since he knows what a sith lord is even though he lost his memory, he'll watch star wars with you

- and recreates the romantic anakin scenes

- "from the moment i met you-" boy stfu i'll literally fall in love

- please teach him how to have fun, he's a very sarcastic guy inside

- will cry if you buy him lightsaber

- if you're a booktok girlie like i am, he'll be happy to buy you your books

- and traumatised after reading the first page

- also yeah, he's paying everything

- likes buying you sexy clothes to see you wearing them

- he's like a little kid in love actually

- he thinks he should give all the pleasure to you but when you returned the favor and like- idk listened to him ramble about something with lovey eyes he almost cried

- girl you make him cry sm fr

- cancer men ppl

- anyways

- he'll buy you matching rings, clothes, anything. he loves matching with you

- will make your hot chocolate a little bit colder for you be able to drink it with his wind

- carries an hair tie for you

- always holding you, ALWAYS

- a hand on your waist? check, on your shoulder? check, backpocket? double check

- mr grace the acts of service guy

- will hold your hand if you're going upstairs like a princess

- he usually sleeps better if he's laying on your chest

- he has one of your plushies with him and spreys your perfume on it regulerly

- it helps him when you're out on a quest okay??

- will watch you do your makeup with doe eyes

- he learned how to braid hairs from piper just to braid yours, bcs he loves playing with your hair

- likes holding your hand

- but not like intertwined, maybe holding your pinky or your fingers lazly, he just needs to feel you

- colarbone 👏🏻 kisses 👏🏻

- he'll just bow you like you guys doing a tango and boom, kisses your colarbone

- buys you flowers and keeps one of them with him to know when he should buy you new ones

- writes you poetry

- he maybe can't say it out loud too much, but he can write it down or show it through actions

- he's actually very talkative and funny around you, leo was mesmerised when he first saw jason all chatty like that

- blushed the first time you wiped his glasses for him

- let's you style him however you want

- and like, pick his glasses for him

- he always pairs up with you in practices

- fucks the rules and makes you sit with him on the zeus table

- he can't just stay away from you too long and he's kind of obsessed atp

- but we love him for that ladies

#i ran out of ideas #hope u like it darlin!#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace headcanon #jason grace imagine #jason grace pjo #jason grace

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infamous-if · 8 months

Note

RO reaction to MC just bombing on stage? Just having a bad day and singing/performing terribly? But sitcom level terrible. How would they break the news? Would they tell them?

This is so funny omg

The song ends and you do a quick bow, trying to catch your breath. That was good, right? You glance back at your band members, who are all weirdly looking away. When Rowan catches your gaze, he quickly turns his head, suddenly interested elsewhere. You shrug. Meh. It was good to me.

You and your bandmates get off the stage and you beam when you see [RO]. "So? What'd you think?"

Seven (no hatred): Seven makes a face that's a cross between a grimace and a flinch. They put their hands on your arms, rubbing it affectionately. Oddly enough, it feels like Sev's trying to make you feel better about something. "You know I always think you're great." You can't help but pick up on the emphasis on the 'I.'

"So it was good?"

They narrow their eyes comically small and nod slowly. "Ye...aa...h?Yeha.....aeah...." As if giving up on the pretense, they shake their head. "No. It wasn't. Do you have a stomach ache perhaps? Heart burn?"

"What? No. Why, that bad?"

A shrug. "If I suck, I'd like to tell myself it's for a reason so I can feel better."

"If?" you say.

Seven grins. "Hasn't happened yet."

Seven (during-hatred): "That was fucking embarrassing."

G: G beams and puts two palms on your shoulders. "I really appreciate your dedication to the bit."

You tilt your head, confused. "What?"

G's brows furrow, and then they drop their hands. Then they realize something and huff out a laugh. "Wait. That wasn't a joke?"

Panic rises within you. "No?"

G's cheeks balloon--as if they're trying not to laugh--before the effort fails and they double over. "Oh my god. Seriously?"

"G?! Are you laughing at me?"

They can't stop their laughter and they put a hand on their cheek, awed and amused all at once. "That was terrible. I thought you were kidding! Holy shit, I need a copy of that performance for posterity."

Victoria: "Um." Victoria averts her gaze, looking a bit awkward. "I'm going to tell you because I care about you: it was kind of horrible."

"Kind of?"

A flinch. "Very BUT." She puts her hand on your cheek. "This is just one performance. You'll do great tomorrow! Maybe you were just stressed..."

"I thought it was great..." you mumble.

She makes a face, dropping her maternal act a moment. "Seriously?--Oh." She shakes her head. "Sorry."

Sebastian: Sebastian stares at you blankly, though he looks a bit guilty. "I don't have enough experience to have an opinion."

You shove him playfully. "Just tell me."

Sebastian's throat bobs and he says: "It didn't sound great but I don't know enough to feel confident in that claim."

You frown, feeling both hurt and confused. "Why do you sound like you're in a job interview?"

"You know, I think this conversation would be more beneficial to your progress with someone else..."

August: August tilts their head. "Are you asking seriously or is this supposed to be a joke?"

"What?" "Oh. So serious then." They thin their lips, teetering on the heels of their shoes as they think. "It was bad."

"What?"

"Yeah. Terrible, actually." August smiles. "But that's okay. We all have bad days, don't we?"

"The thing is, I thought I did great..."

Their smile drops. "Oh..?"

Orion: Orion doesn't look up from his phone and you frown, tapping him. "Hello?"

He meets your gaze and waves his phone. "Sorry, I was just on Indeed looking for another job." "What? Wait, the performance was bad?"

He looks momentarily horrified, and then helpless, and then disappointed. "The fact that you can't even tell worries me greatly."

You frown. "I thought it was good."

He shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose in resignation. "This is my fault. I've been coddling you too much."

"You think what you do is coddling?!"

#inbox #infamous cast #scenario asks #I forgot how fun these were

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puppetwoman17 · 2 months

Text

A Happy House: Part 1

Headcanon that when there are any quarrels or fights between league members, they cool down at Billy’s apartment.

I see this happening in the future when Billy’s like, early to mid 20s. He’s finally settled to the point where he doesn’t always worry about becoming a homeless kid again. People in the League know him as understanding to a fault, and always willing to listen to both sides of the story. His apartment is homey, and there are always magical creatures or family walking around, like his sister, best friend, or uncle Dudley. Maybe a celestial or a god is visiting. Maybe the universe’s higher ups are having a meeting in his dining room. Whatever is happening, it calms everyone down.

Sometimes it’s Connor, coming in from another fight with Clark. Sometimes it’s a fellow Magic user who feels ostrisized because of their power. Other times, it’s a Batfamily member who wants Bruce off their tail, and Billy will gladly use a shield spell to give them privacy from Batman’s detective skills. Other times it’s members of the Team after arguing with the JL. Or the JL sorting out a quarrel amongst themselves with Billy’s careful judgement.

Billy doesn’t know why he’s such a calming presence to them. He’s known them since he was a child, yes, a kid who hadn’t even hit the double digits. But he tends to be blunt. Straight to the point. He makes sure to show he cares, but the feeling can feel foreign at times when the world keeps biting you in the ass. And he can get mad when people are so obliviously stupid it hurts. He’s seen and heard more than enough arguments between adults to know when they’re pulling bullshit or saying something that shouldn’t be said. It’s an art at this point.

But he’s mostly quiet when someone comes over, and when the other person is permitted to enter, he lets them hash the argument out themselves, offering nothing but privacy and a smile when they leave.

…So yeah, he’s confused. But he’s just happy to help.

And the JL, Team and Titans are grateful too. He’s their relationship wingman! The guy who you know to go to when things get heated. His home is an oasis of calm and care.

They can watch as the Batson siblings banter in the kitchen. They can watch Billy bring John Constantine in by the ear and rip him a new one. They can smile in amusement as Billy puts one over on his fellow higher ups in the magic community on a freakin ZOOM call!

He’s easy to be around. There’s no pressure from him, no questions needing answers. He’s also not biased(unless it’s more than obvious who’s in the wrong).

So yeah, the heroes love their not-so-little-anymore magic man.

They love him so much that they immediately clock onto when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

See, Billy doesn’t like to get angry. When he’s Cap, he’s afraid of the power he possesses. He gets nauseous when someone bows to him like he’s their boss or something(which you are Billy bean, you gotta deal with it). Even when he’s in his mortal form, he doesn’t go beyond a flood of curse words or a couple jabs built off stress.

But there are a few people who know what buttons to push, and they push them. A lot. So much so that he tends to get a little…loud.

Oh and did I mention he didn’t exactly TELL his coworkers that he had an uncle? Hell, that he did have a family, they just didn’t care enough to be with him?

Yeah, that’s not gonna lead to anything, I’m sure.

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #shazam #dc universe #young justice #batfamily #superboy #mary batson #freddy freeman #uncle Dudley #uncle Ebenezer #young adult Billy Batson #he’s their safe space

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smaptain-smerica · 1 year

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Thank you for the suggestion!

abaker74 I always love when Jake or Bradley Meet then date a single mom. Being a single mom myself that's on brand for me 🤣🤣

Summary: Bradley introduces jake to his high school best friend and her child. Basically Jake likes Milfs. Fluffy content.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female!Reader (Single mother reader)

Masterlist

Roses and Thorns - Part I

(Previously called “Pool Table”)

It had been a long day of training for the pilots at Top Gun. Jake "Hangman" Seresin had given them a run for their money after becoming an instructor. He would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy making the pilots suffer.

He was now enjoying an ice cold tap beer with his fellow instructor and friend, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. The two of them shared notes over the pilots they were training. Bradley kept annoyingly texting on his phone the entire time, smiling every now and then.

Finally, he had gotten a phone call that he seemed to be anxious about getting and he ran out of the Hard Deck. Jake rolled his eyes at his friend, finally relieved to be free from his suffocating phone use.

Jake looked around the Hard Deck, listening to the sounds of classic rock playing on the jukebox mixed with the hum of different voices having different conversations.

Jake felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down at a little girl. Large doey eyes and h/c hair put up in two curly pigtails with pink bows wrapped around them. She had on a little sweater with strawberries on it. "Daddy?"

The question caught him off guard, nearly spitting out his drink. He felt his heart drop to his stomach and panic began to settle in. "I- um-"

Laughter came from a few feet away. He looked over in the direction of it and saw that Bradley was doubled over in laughter with his hand on a woman’s shoulder, who was also laughing. The two made their way over to the table and sat down. The small girl ran back to the woman and jumped in her lap, giggling like a maniac. I assumed now that this woman was her mother.

“Oh man your face was priceless.” Bradley said while wiping a tear from his eyes.

Jake grumbled, rolling his eyes and bringing his beer to his lips. His attention turned to the woman with the same colored hair as the little girl. He watched the way her face moved when she laughed, the lingering smile on her face made his heart skip a beat.

“Jake, this is my long time friend from high school, y/n.” Bradley introduced them. Y/n reached her hand over the table to shake, a kind smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet you.” She charmed.

Jake grabbed her hand and shook it. Her hands were soft and delicate but she had a strong grip.

“Jake Seresin.” He returned the introduction to her. He then pointed to the little girl in her lap. “Who’s the troublemaker?” He asked.

Y/n smiled and grabbed the little girls hands in her own. “This is my daughter, Rose.”

“Momma I want French fries!” Rose exclaimed excitedly upon seeing someone walk out of the nearby kitchen door with a basket of them.

Jake smiled at the way the small girls face lit up. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Jake loved kids. He had always imagined himself having as many boys as possibly. Someone he could roughhouse with and throw a football on the beach. Maybe they would even take after him and join the military. The thought of having girls scared him. Maybe it was because he didn’t know how to take care of one, or maybe because he wouldn’t know what to do if she brought a boy home. Boys would be easier, more low maintenance.

“I’ll get you some French fries baby.” Y/n said nonchalantly as she pet the little girls head.

Rose pounded her little fists on the table, making the liquid in our drinks vibrate slightly. “French fries! French fries! French fries!” She chanted like a battle cry. Jake chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright I’m going!” Y/n gave in, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Here, go to uncle Brad.” Y/n handed the child over to Bradley. She now sat in his lap and giggled menacingly.

“You are very right she’s a troublemaker.” Bradley commented and took a drink from his cup.

“So you and y/n were friends in high school?” Jake asked, attempting to learn more about this woman he never heard of before.

Bradley nodded. “Since freshman year. We had PE together. Beat the shit out of me with dodgeballs every day for four years. We’ve stayed close ever since.” Bradley reminisced on the memory of the past. I looked over at her as she leaned against the bar, talking with Penny. She was unbelievably sexy. Just her posture and the way she carried herself and talked in the conversation from afar. Who wouldn’t be attracted to that?

“Is it safe to assume that’s not your kid?” Jake asked, wanting to poke some fun at Bradley. Bradley laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no. I don’t know where Rosie’s father is at. Y/n doesn’t really talk about it.”

For some reason, knowing she was single heightened the attraction that he felt. He hated to say it, because it made him sound kind of misogynistic, but Jake loved seeing women with kids as much as he loved kids. There was nothing he loved more than watching someone play pretend and cater to someone’s needs. Jake watched her walk back over to the table with a cocktail in one hand and a basket of French fries in the other. Y/n slid them down onto the table and plopped down into her chair. “Boom! French fries.”

Rose used her little fingers to make a grabbing motion towards the basket of fries that Bradley grabbed and slid them closer to the little girl.

“So, Bradshaw tells me you’re a pilot as well.” Y/n began to strike up conversation with Jake, taking a French fry from the basket and popping it into her mouth. She looked at him with an innocent interest.

The three and a half people made pleasant conversation as the night went on. Rose had only eaten about 5 of the French fries that she had demanded she receive so the three adults finished them off. It was 9:30 now and Rose was passed out in y/n’s arms, her head resting on her chest with her mouth wide open.

“I better get going so I can put her to bed.” Y/n said as she slowly stood up from her chair. She struggled to reach down on the ground to grab one of her bags. Jake jumped up to grab it off the ground for her.

“I can get it.” He insisted. Y/n looked at him with a warm smile spreading across her face. “Thank you.”

Jake looked back at Bradley as y/n made her way to the door. Bradley winked and raised his glass to Jake. He had turned around and quickened his pace to catch up. He jogged to the car to get there first and he opened the door for y/n while she strapped Rose into her car seat.

Once she was in the seat she walked around to the driver side door and took her bag from Jakes hands. “Thank you for the help, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, any time.” Jake smiled, sticking his hands into his pockets. Y/n nodded to him, saying her goodbyes before driving off.

It was rounding 6 o’clock when Jake decided to take a run on the beach. He had run a couple miles when he came up on the beach that butted up with the back of the Hard Deck. He noticed an umbrella with two silhouettes sitting underneath it. The closer he got the clearer the two became. It was y/n and Rose.

He approached the two, stopping in front of them. Y/n looked up, blocking the sun from her eyes, even though she was wearing sunglasses, and then smiled. “Hey Jake.”

“Hi.” He smiled. Jake facepalmed himself. That was all he was able to choke out? Hi? How mortifying.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked. To the right of y/n, Rose was digging sand up from the beach and putting it into a bucket.

“Just out for a run.” He shrugged plainly.

“I see.” If she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, Jake would have sworn that she looked him up and down, suddenly making him feel bashful. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.

Jake felt a tug on his right hand. He looked down at Rose who was trying to pull him in the direction of the little mound of sand towers that she was building. “Come on.” She encouraged.

“Rosie sweetheart, Jake is busy he can’t play right now.” Y/n, took her daughters hand out of jakes. Of course, that was the one sentence a parent could say that could make even a child hating person feel guilty.

“He can’t play?” Rosie frowned, looking back and forth between the two adults.

“No no no, I can play.” Jake said quickly, afraid of upsetting the pouting girl. He sat down on the sand next to y/n under the umbrella.

“You don’t have to,” y/n reassured him, pulling her sunglasses up off her face and into her hair.

“I want to.” Jake smiled at her, holding eye contact for a little longer than normal.

Jake was drawn away from admiring the woman’s features as he was handed a small Pail and shovel. “Can you fill this with sand please?” Rose asked. How could anybody say no to those big blue eyes?

Eventually a small sand castle was built in front of where their set up was on the beach. Rose stepped back to admire her work. Her face then lit up with an idea. “I gotta get water for my Algators.”

Jake chuckled at her mispronunciation of the word alligator and watched as she took off running toward the water with her Pail in hand. “She’s adorable.” Jake hummed.

Y/n chuckled and nodded her hand. “She is the light in my life. Always keeps me on my toes.”

“I bet you guys always have your hands full.” Jake chuckled. He wanted to see if y/n would talk more about what Bradley said about her father being absent.

Y/n waved her hand dismissively and blew air through her mouth. “My hands are always full. Dead beat father didn’t want to stick around.”

Jake frowned. He already knew the answer to her question before he asked it, but hearing the venom dripping from her voice as she said it really stung his heart. “I’m so sorry.” He took the opportunity to place a hand on her shoulder. He felt her soft skin underneath his course hand and felt a fire ignite his chest. She looked over at him and gave him a gentle smile.

“Thank you. It really isn’t that big of a deal though, it was a long time ago.”

“What happened if you don’t mind me asking.” Jake asked.

Y/n sucked her teeth in thought before continuing on with her story. “We wanted different things. I wanted to have a baby and stay close to my mom, and he didn’t want a baby and to go to New York to peruse his acting career. So we compromised and I got full custody and he’s doing compression sock commercials.”

Jake couldn’t help but break out in laughter at the way she described it. It really did seem like a thing of the past to her. Or maybe, she covered up her pain with humor.

“How long ago was that?”

“Little over 5 years ago. it's just been me and her ever since."

Jake nodded in understanding of what she was saying. “Well, for what it’s worth you’ve done great.”

“It’s too heavy!” A small voice called from the distance. Jake looked off towards the ocean to see Rose struggling to carry the water filled bucket back to their spot on the beach.

“I’m coming!” Jake quickly got up from his spot on the sand and went up to rose. He took the bucket from her and grabbed her hand to help her walk back up the beach. Jake poured the water into the small hole she dug.

“There, a finished castle.”

Rose giggled and smiled. “I’ll be the princess and you be the knight.” She suggested. Jake chuckled and nodded to her.

“Yes your majesty.” He brought his hand up and saluted to her. Then Jake got an idea. He gave y/n a mischievous look that caused her face to turn up in confusion.

“If I’m a knight, that means I have to protect the princess from the evil queen.” Jake looked back over at y/n and gave her a wink. A wide smile spread on her face and she slowly shifted her weight around and crouched over on her feet.

“I’ll get you my pretty.” She twisted her voice to a creepy witch-like tone, causing Rose to giggle in anticipation.

“Go we have to go!” She encouraged Jake. Jake wrapped his arms around Rose and picked her up off the ground.

“I’ll save you princess!” He announced. Jake took off at a jog down the beach with y/n on his tail. Rose gripped onto jakes arms and let out many screaming giggles. The sound made Jake happy, the shrill of happy little kid screams made him want to do everything to keep this little girl happy.

He had looped around and made his way back around to the umbrella. He quickly set Rose down in the shade and then stood up to face y/n who was barreling towards him.

“I’ve got this, princess. Stop evil queen!” Jake commanded. Y/n showed no signs of stopping. In fact, she didn’t. She got right up to Jake and then ducked her shoulder down into his abdomen. Taken back by the sudden tackle and the strength at which she laid him out.

Jakes back hit the ground, y/n following shortly after and landing on top of him. In the tackle he had wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from rolling away. He felt the soft skin of her back against his hands as their skin was pressed together. He couldn’t help but feel the attraction simmering in his stomach as he looked up at her, a wide smile spread across her face as she laughed.

“Get off my knight!” Rose was near them now, pounding her little fists into y/n’s back in an attempt to get her mother off of Jake. Y/n rolled over and grabbed rose, wrapping her up tightly in her arms before plopping back down in the sand next to Jake.

“I’ve got her Jake! Tickle her!”

Jake laughed and reached his arms over and ticked her sides. Rose squealed and thrashed around, laughs erupting from within her. “Stop stop!” She said in between her laughs.

Jake brought his hands back and propped his head up on his hand. He looked over at the mother and daughter duo. Y/n had her arms wrapped around Rose, planting kisses on her cheek. Jake felt something warm in his heart. Admiration, affection, adoration, all the mushy feelings he had ever felt all at once. Rose changed his view on girls. He wanted to have 5 girls if they all turned out like this one. In turn, he wanted to know more about the spectacular woman in front of him. He knew he would do anything to protect them both.

“Forgive me if this is too forward-“ Jake began to talk before he was cut off by y/n.

“It’s too forward. I can’t forgive you now.” They both chuckled at her sarcastic response. Jakes face then fell to a more serious expression.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" Y/n's expression durned up in surprise. It took her a minute to think about an answer which caused Jakes heart to begin to race. It was too forward. He hadn't even asked her if she had a boyfriend, or anybody she was seeing.

"Yes, actually." At her response, Jake felt his heart return to it's chest. Relief flooded over him.

"Hard Deck at 7 tomorrow?" He asked.

"I'll be there."

“You met her two days ago and already asked her on a date?” Bradley exclaimed over the phone.

Jake smiled with the phone up to his ear. He was already at the Hard Deck when Bradley had called. Apparently y/n had asked Bradley to babysit for her while she went out with his friend.

“The heart wants what the heart wants Brad.”

“This is hardly your heart talking.” Bradley retorted sassily.

“I’ll have you know,” Jake jumped to his own defense. “I hung out with her and Rose on the beach yesterday-”

“And you fell in love with Rosie’s intoxicating giggle?” Bradley chuckled.

Jake felt the heat rise to his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was absolutely true. It was an addiction, something that Jake could listen to for the rest of his life. Which, is part of why he asked y/n out.

“Shut up, Bradshaw.” Jake growled, hanging up the phone before Bradley had a chance to clap back. As though it were scripted, Y/n walked through the door and glanced around. Jake stood up and walked to the door to meet her. Y/n saw him, smiling as they met halfway.

Y/n was wearing a deep blue dress that stopped in the middle of her shins. She had on a pair of white sandals and a golden chain around her ankle. Traveling back up to her face, spaghetti straps across her strong shoulders and a plunging v neck where a necklace with a pink pendant played across the top of her breasts. Leaving just enough to the imagination.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Jake raved upon approaching her. Y/n smiled and held her arms out, embracing Jake. He reciprocated the hug, putting his hands gently on her lower back.

“Thank you! You don’t look so bad yourself.” Y/n took a moment to look Jake up and down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a red shirt on top.

Jake directed them to the bar, opening the tab and buying them both drinks to start with. He then directed her attention a few tables away from the central bar.

“Now, since this is a bar I wasn’t able to reserve a table. But, I have reserved the pool table.” He spread his hands out wide in a presenting way as they approached the pool table. Y/n smiled and laughed.

“I think we can manage with that.” Y/n grabbed two sticks and then turned around, reaching one over to Jake. “Are you breaking or am I?” She asked.

For some odd reason, Jake had never been that attracted to someone.

“Ladies first, obviously.”

Y/n smirked slightly, placing the que ball down and bending over at the waist to line up her shot. The way that her necklace dangled in front of her now more exposed chest was next to impossible to ignore. His eyes wandered to there, hardly listening to the words that left her mouth.

“You know, I know exactly why you asked me on a date.” Her eyes wandered from looking up at Jake to at the pool table, drawing back her stick and breaking the stack. Unfortunately, no balls went into any pockets.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jake asked, looking around the table for the easiest shot to start.

“You like hot moms.”

Jake was mid shot when y/n said that, causing him to completely miss the ball in front of him. He looked up at y/n who was propped against the pool stick, laughing at his misfortune.

“Now that’s not true-“

“You don’t think I’m hot?” Y/n interrupted him with a pout.

“No, you’re very hot.” Jake huffed with a shy giggle.

Y/n smirked a little, walking around the table to observe potential shots. She found one right beside where Jake stood, bending at the waist and took a shot, sinking a striped ball into a socket. “And I’m a mom. Therefore, you like hot moms.”

For the first time a woman had left Jake speechless. He rubbed the back of his neck and feeling the intense heat rise to his face. Y/n seemed to notice when she looked up at him. She put a hand on his strong chest, gently pushing him backwards slightly so she could slip between him and the pool table.

“Relax Seresin, I’m pulling your leg.”

Jake had felt a tingling sensation running over his whole body. Like fire ants were crawling in his veins. He watched her take another shot at a pool ball and missed.

“So, do you want kids?” Y/n asked, taking a step back to allow him room to move.

Jake chuckled and looked around the table for his next shot. “Straight to the deep questions, huh?”

“Well I’ve got a kid who’s not going anywhere. Just want to make sure you’re not some secret child hater.”

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, I want kids.”

“How many?”

Jake huffed out. “As many as my partner would let me.” He admitted.

Y/n nodded in understanding. “Let me guess, boys?”

Jake missed his third shot before standing up straight to look over at y/n. He smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah.”

“I figured as much.” Y/n hummed with a chuckle. “It’s the typical male answer.”

Jake put his hands up in defense. “Forgive me if girls are intimidating.”

“So you think my little Rosie is intimidating?”

“Well no-“

“Don’t worry. The more time you spend around her the more girls you want.”

Jake smirked a little, watching y/n take her next shot. “Will I be spending more time around her?” He asked hopefully.

Y/n looked up at him from her spot bent over lining up her pool shot. A small smile curled up on her perfectly plump lips. “There’s a good chance.”

Jake smiled. His heart warmed the more he talked to y/n about just the smallest things. He couldn’t remember the last time he talked to someone for this long about mundane things. He enjoyed every second of it.

Much to his distaste, the night eventually had to come to a close. Jake walked y/n out to her car, the two of them laughing about a joke that was told earlier.

“Thank you for tonight Jake, I had a great time.” Y/n leaned against the back seat of her car while Jake stood by the drivers door.

“I had a great time too.” Jake hummed. He held out his hand and gestured with his eyes for y/n to take it. Y/n smiled, placing her hand on top of Jakes. He brought it up to his lips and gave her a kiss on the knuckles while simultaneously opening the driver side door for her.

“So when is our second date?” He asked. Y/n stepped up into position to get into her car. The only thing between her and Jake was the car door. She stopped for a moment, seeming to think. Y/n shifted her weight to her toes, stretching up and placing a kiss on Jakes lips. She lingered there for a couple seconds. Before going back down on her flat feet.

“I’ll call you.” She said sweetly. Y/n got into her car and closed the door, rolling down the window. Jake was so caught up in the intoxicating kiss that he forgot one critical detail.

“I never gave you my number.”

Y/n put a pair of sunglasses on her head and poked her head out of her driver window. She smiled wildly up at him. “I know.”

Just like that, she drove off. Leaving Jake smiling like an idiot in the parking lot.

Next Part

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x female!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #glen powell #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #lieutenant jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff

2K notes · View notes

rustboxstarr · 3 months

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🖤 The babysitter doesn't leave for another hour 🖤

Summary: You and Eddie aren't ready to go home just yet

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader

Warnings: smut, slight handjob, fingering, P in V, semi public sex (car sex).

Wordcount: 1.7 k

A/N: This is so bad, ya'll I'm so sorry, I'm just trying so hard rn to get out of my writers block because I miss yall!!! I just can't fricking write 😭

Anyway, love yas!

Check out my other works!

“You have no idea how much I missed this” the smile you bore was adorable droopy as you stared up at your husband, eyes swimming with adoration as you hung around his arm. “Just sad it's over” he rolled his eyes softly, a small tug gracing his lips. For once you had finally managed to find a sitter and indulge in dinner and a movie all cozied up with Eddie, but the night had to come to an end at some point right?

Eddie's steps were slow as he led you out of the double doors to the car, taking care to stretch the time however he could. He didn't want this night to end, sure you both loved your kids but some time with just each other was a quality of life that was dearly missed.

You sigh in a strange mix of contentment and deflation as you sit down in the passenger seat. “Good movie though” your head rolls on your shoulders to find Eddie settling in beside you, “It was wasn’t it?” Your eyes gaze out towards the dark parking lot. Neither of you were really ready to head home and as a result you found the both of you just sat next to each other staring out the window, neither of you making a move to start the car and make your way back to the house.

“To be honest…” you whisper before finding the sharp jawline that you always loved to press your lips to, “I don’t even know what it was about” you snort as he finds your slack figure next to him. “Me neither” the chuckle that sounds about the car has your chest heating up.

“Yeah, got a bit… intense” you giggle, “To say the least” his laugh has your body fluttering as he speaks. His lips find yours as you both laugh at the fresh memory of what could only be explained as a PG 13 grope session. His nose nuzzles against yours as your eyes travel down to his watch when he runs a strong hand up and down your thigh. “You know.. the babysitter isn’t leaving for another hour” anything above a whisper wasn’t needed, he could practically hear your heartbeat in the silence of the night.

You mimic his movements as he leans back in his seat, “What do you wanna’ do?” He smiles, placing his hands on the steering wheel ready to take you wherever you want to go.

You scan the parking lot, it’s practically empty, save for a few cars on the other end. A wicked grin spreads across your face before you push yourself up on the seat and try to smoothly swing your leg over the centre console. Callused hands find your hips as you get situated in his lap, “Why don’t we take advantage of a whole kid free hour with no one to disturb? Make up for some lost time?” Your fingers dance along his neck, playing with the loose strand of curls that hangs free from his bun.

“I like how you’re thinking” his lips find yours is a soft but feverish kiss, hands squeezing your hips tight as if you were about to slip away from him. “But how about we take this to the back?” He whispers against your lips. You bite your lip in a smile and nod, eagerly clambering off of him as you open the door.

He grins wildly as he follows suit, opening the back door and with a small bow gestures you in “after you mi’lady” you giggle as you sit down and scootch your way over to the other side. You try to be patient as he scans the parking lot for any bypassers but when he’s finally made himself comfortable in the middle you all but pounce on him. Thigh swinging over his lap, attacking his lips with sloppy kisses while his hands wrap around you.

Your black satin bodycon dress has already ridden up your thighs but Eddie needs more, lips still attached to yours he forces the fabric over your ass and lets it bunch up around your waist as he grabs two hefty handfuls of your ass, pressing you down against his throbbing cock, encouraging you to roll your hips against him.

“Oh fuck” you whine softly as his zipper catches your clit which only has him forcing you down harder. It’s all a delicious mix of hot breaths and tongues as the stars shine bright in the night sky behind you.

You can’t take it anymore, the sensation of his thick cock pressing so deliciously against your heat has fiery tingles prickling around your thighs. In a hazy haste you manage to find his belt buckle below you and with a second of your fingers grazing his stomach Eddie's hands are there instantly to assist you. You kneel back to watch as he’s revealed to you. Precum dribbling from his painfully hard cock but before he gets a chance to release himself of some of the ache your hand wraps around him. Delicate hand pumping him slowly as your lips reattach.

His tongue feels like heaven against your own, he’s desperately grabbing at anything he can get his hands on before he finds what he’s looking for and sinks his fingers into the meat of your ass.

You gasp as you feel a hand move between the backs of your thighs to feel thick fingers running down your folds over your dark cotton panties.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re distracted from your task of giving both Eddies lips and his cock attention. He's quick to move your panties to the side and slip a finger inside your dripping cunt. Having no trouble getting a second in as you're practically gushing for him.

All you can focus on is the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you before you find his eyes and find him eagerly watching every twitch of your face. Your own hand starts up again and you revel in the sight of his own eyes rolling to the back of his head.

As if trying to one up you, his hand moves faster, you smirk down at him silently competing with him as you too begin pumping his cock faster.

“Shit, shit” he pants “okey okey, I’m gonna cum if we don’t stop soon” he slowly opens his eyes to find your lips tugging down and accompanying doe eyes “Isn’t that the point?” The pout is instantly replaced with a wicked smirk.

“Not just yet” he grins and pulls his fingers away from you, replacing his hand on the globe of your ass and harshly pulling you towards him. Your hand is being pushed away before you know it and you gasp loudly when you feel his tip running through your folds.

He has lined himself up with you and is pushing you down before you can even utter a word, all you can do is let out an obnoxiously loud moan as his cock stretches you open. You hear him swear loudly in the distance as you sink down.

God you should have date night more often because this was unbelievable. Eddie's thick head almost probing at your cervix, his shaft gliding so easily against your wet walls, his fingers digging into your flesh, bound to leave marks.

You were too desperate to really soak up the feeling of his thick cock pressing at your walls, instantly kneeling back up again to feel him slowly slide back into you again. A loud moan that had Eddie throbbing spilled from your lips as he watched you set a slow pace of forcing yourself up and down his cock.

But he knew that if you continued like this there was no way he wouldn't be shooting his load up into you within a matter of seconds. If even possible his fingers sunk further into your skin as he nudged you to go slightly faster. You took his hint and sped your hips up slowly, each loud groan rumbling from his chest spurring you on as you felt your wetness begin to pool at the base of his cock.

“Shit babe” Eddie huffed as you began bouncing in his lap, short, loud moans filling his ears, each getting more high pitched the faster you went until you finally found the quick pace that had your thighs burning and the leather creaking with every move. You were most definitely shaking the car right now, not making your action discreet whatsoever but you couldn't care not when his cock felt so delicious inside you.

“Fuck, yeah thats it, ride me baby. Shit, look so sexy bouncing on my dick” he groaned as his hands helped guide your movements, listening to every moan you gifted him with. “Fucking love bouncing on your dick baby” you whined as your head fell back, eyes rolled to the back of your head, solely focused on chasing your own release.

It was a scrumptious mix of loud moans, groans, incoherent babble from your fucked out husband, sloppy kisses and hands grabbing at anything and everything. You suddenly felt that familiar knot in your stomach tightening, “Shit Eddie” you breathed “Eddie I’m about to cum!” Your movements only increased in speed as his words fell on deaf ears until finally the knot snapped and you felt your cunt gush around him.

It was all a blur as your ears rang and your vision went completely white but finally you managed to regain your consciousness. Your hands found his shoulders to steady yourself as you let Eddie guide you up and down, abusing your overstimulated pussy until you felt yourself being forced down all the way, his forehead finding purchase between your tits. The head of his cock buried deep within you as a loud groan vibrated against your chest while hot spurts of cum painted your walls.

You slumped against him and it felt like forever as you tried to catch your breath again.

“Shit” he chuckled, planting a kiss to your lips. “We should probably get home” you whispered, “Yeah, we probably should” he sighed.

“I don’t wanna’ leave just yet. Can’t we just stay like this for a little?” he whispered against your lips, “Yeah” you smiled.

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i love you (always forever) pt.1

Daryl Dixon x sister!OFC

Summary: In the winter of ‘95 Daddy died. Leaving Lady to finish up her senior year in high school, and Daryl to brood over when to sell the house. The summer of ‘96 is the first time Lady feels alive. Daryl wants to give her one last summer before she has to grow up for real.

He gave her anything she asked for that summer.

Setting: Doublewide on some lone property in the middle of the woods, Georgia. Summer 1996

Warnings: INCEST (like it's the whole thing), virgin!oc, drug use (a joint), underage drinking, TENSION, poorly written SMUT, masturbation (f), lite!somno, oral (m receiving), some leering (??); most of the smut will be in part two.

Word Count: 6.1k

A/n: INCEST I'll say it again. if it's not your thing, or can’t ever be your thing, DON’T READ IT.

I didn't write it. I simply lived it in my head and documented (I wrote it but it felt like I didn't have a choice).

Lady, Daryl calls her Lay, Bug

She calls him Bub, Bubba

// part 2 //

MDNI 18+

Wind chimes. Soft like the breeze. The heat of the Georgia in June. Daddy died this past winter, and Lady’d never had a summer feel so much like a hug. Finally able to really breathe again. Like a little kid. Magic around every corner. She swore sometimes, when she looked out the window in the dead of night, that she could see the faeries dancing out back in the woods. For a few years they'd gone, but this year they were back again.

Just her and Daryl (and the deer, and the squirrels, and the mice, and obviously the mosquitos, and sometimes the faeries); Like it shoulda always been. Like it always kinda was. After Merle left and all. Got older, moved out. Daryl stayed, though. Past his 18th birthday, and a few more after that. Didn’t wanna leave Lady all by herself with their old man. Couldn’t.

Now he couldn’t really leave her alone in the house, even though she’d turned 18 last fall. Doesn’t even cross his mind.

Lady’s finally done with school for good unless she decides she wants to go to college. First one in the whole damn family and no one but Daryl was there to see it. Daryl quit his job as soon as Daddy died. Even if Daddy didn't have a few dollars in his bank account he didn’t know about, Lady figures he would have anyway.

Daryl thought about selling the house but… not yet.

He knew he was putting a pause on his life for this summer with Lady, but his whole life had been on pause til now anyway. Knows that when it’s over, it’s all over. Her whole childhood, their whole upbringing. Their dad dyin’ was just the bow ontop to seal the deal. They’d both think of it as the end. For the rest of her life, Lay’ll know this is when she had to grow up for real. So Daryl wouldn’t sell the house until Lady had her last summer as a kid with nothin’ to worry about.

The heat was starting to get unbearable.

“Lay!” Daryl yells, standing above a bed she'd made up in the living room. Dad had always kept the one lone air conditioner in his room, in front of the tv, in front of the recliner, in front of the bed. Lady had the idea to hang sheets on the doors to the living room and make a bed on the floor big enough for both of them to sleep in. She forgot the pillows, though, and now she was nowhere to be found.

Daryl put down the tools he’d been using to fix the a/c to the window, pushing past the pink floral sheet between the living room and the hall toward the bedrooms, “Lay!” He quickly paces the double wide but she’s no where.

Left a towel on her bed though, so Daryl’s got a good guess where she went. Swimmin’.

It’s about a half miles walk, so it’s pretty far to just up and leave like that without saying anything, but Lady did it all the time. Like the creek was her own personal bathtub. Daryl’s not annoyed, not really. But he walks the half mile like he is anyway. Why couldn’t she just let him know? Because then he wouldn’t have to make sure this is where she went. And he wouldn’t have to bring her the towel she forgot.

Daryl walks down and sure enough Lady’s shoulder deep in the muddy creek water, her clothes and shoes all bundled up on the dirt a few feet in front of him. She’s faced away, and at first doesn’t hear him come up.

Lady tried to sneak away without being noticed to have a private moment. Like momma taught her. You’re allowed to touch yourself like that, but you can’t do it around other people. Momma said as long as you can be in private, it’s alright.

Lady didn’t mean to forget her towel, but she almost assumed Daryl would find her anyway. She’d been fast though, always was. Was easy with the hormones. 18 and learning all new kinds of feelings. Merle always called her a late bloomer. Not being interested in boys until recently. She thought about the boys at school, and their plush lips on the soft skin of her shoulder, the protection in their arm wrapped around her waist, the butterfly light kiss of their eyelashes on her stomach.

It didn’t take much for Lady to feel somethin’. Not in this heat, not with the breeze of freedom prickling every inch of her skin.

Daryl can’t tell what she’s doing. All he sees is her shoulders barely moving in the lake, her head above the water and facing away from him. “Lay!”

Daryl’s voice cascades through the air a few seconds after Lady, with a barely there mew, has her orgasm. Lady’s kisses with pleasure are soft, new, wanting. Like a light peck instead of a deep kiss. A soft mist instead of a thunderstorm. Lady only knew sweetness, even in her private moments.

She’s beaming from ear to ear as she turns around to face him, making sure to keep her body covered by the water, “Bubba, what? I’m just swimmin’.” She already knew he was ready to be annoyed with her by his tone.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” he nods, and smirks. Despite being annoyed he’s casual, “Thinkin’ maybe ya forgot som’n?” He throws the towel down ontop of her clothes and goes to stand behind a tree while she gets out of the water.

Lady was always doing this. And Daryl was always following her with whatever thing she’d forgotten, or didn’t know she was gonna need. Daryl was always there.

Full name Lady-Rae Cheryl Dixon. See momma wanted the name to rhyme with the boys but always said if she had a girl she was gonna name her Lady. Really liked that movie when she was a kid, didn’t matter it wasn’t a girls name. Didn’t matter to her what anyone thought. She thought it was sweet. And Lady was sweet. Could get away with probably anything if she wanted to, but she never even tried. Besides running around the woods naked, she didn’t find herself in much trouble. Sweet as honey.

Daryl wasn’t sure how that was gonna work out in the real world. If she would get eaten up, or if she’d outshine everyone around her. He didn’t like to think about it. She didn’t belong out there. Not yet. Right now she’s naked in the woods, covering herself up just to be polite; right where she’s meant to be. Who she’s supposed to be.

They make the walk back, Lady’s teeth chattering but she never complains. Barefoot like she grew the forest herself. She knew every inch. Daryl shuffled behind her, knowing the trail just as well, but letting her be the force she was. Skipping and stopping and stepping on her favorite parts as she went. He watched.

Her towel small, and frayed on the ends. See through in spots. He tries to look away. He knows he should. But he can’t manage to stop himself. the way her tiny ass bounced as she walked, it was too lewd for him to avert his eyes. Like maybe if it wasn’t jiggling so much he’d have been able to stare at his feet or off into the woods, or at her bare shoulder or something, anything, else.

But it was, just… her tight skin moving the fat of her ass back into place over and over, snapping against the sheer fabric of the towel, moving that too. Daryl keeps himself from leaning back to see more, to peak through and see the light between her legs. Wouldn’t do that. He’s not trying to sexualize her. What her ass is doing is right there in front of him? He tells himself it’s not his fault he’s looking. He’s seen her naked anyway, it’s not even a big deal.

Getting caught up in shit that doesn’t matter, that’s what Daryl was good at. Getting stuck up in his own head and hung up on looking just barely a little too long at his sister. Merle would say it was no big deal, Daryl just needed to relax. He was making it weird by thinkin’ about it.

He manages to look away, and to forget all about it.

💕

Lady always assumes Daryls looking. Why wouldn't he look? Didn't mean nothin’. Boys always looked, wasn't a big deal unless they made it one. Unless someone made private thoughts public, with a purpose. Who cares who's lookin’? Lady doesn't. Never did. Why would she? How could she?

With Daryl for a brother, Lady never even got the chance to know what a bad touch might be. Never even heard of it. Maybe that's why she was such a late bloomer. Never even knew what she had down there until last summer when she met a boy who had a truck and talked like her brothers and he touched her through her pants and she ignited.

Never saw the guy again.

Never wanted to. Never needed to. She was alive and on fire and everything around her burned brighter for it.

She was finding it hard to get comfortable in the bed she’d made. Still too hot even with the air conditioner on full blast. Daryl was about 3 feet away, a whole heap of comforter between them. “Get up” Lady’s voice a playful smirk.

Daryl had been trying to fall asleep but got stuck staring at the ceiling fan. Trying to watch a single blade in its rotation. He stands up like she’d asked and watches as Lady lays the comforter out on top of the rest of the blankets she’d piled up, “if we’re not gonna use it.” She explains.

Lady’s still got her light blue baby blanket that goes almost everywhere with her. Just as tattered and falling apart as the towel. Daryl never sleeps with a blanket anyway. Usually just passes out in his clothes, on his bed. Now he’d do the same thing here, in the living room. Hum of the a/c, chatter of the TV, the heat from Lady’s body - Daryl didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep anyway.

Well maybe. He did have a joint stashed in with his cigarettes that he’d been saving for sometime this week. So when lady gets up to grab herself an ice cream cone from the fridge, Daryl yells, “Lay, grab ma pack’a smokes.”

Lady’s halfway to the living room but she turns back and grabs them from the kitchen counter for him. “You’re really gonna smoke in the fort?”

“Fort, huh?” He grunts then smiles at her as she tosses the pack at him.

“Yeah?” She looks around, elbowing the sheet hung behind her, “What else would you call it?”

“Th’ livin’ room.” He’s not looking at her when he answers. Eyes and fingers fixed on the pack, fidgeting with the hinged top for a bit before pulling the joint out and putting it in his mouth.

Lady stops complaining when she sees it’s not a cigarette, and takes her seat back down on the pallet. Laying on her stomach, up on her elbows, facing Daryl. Her ice cream cone had already started melting, her tongue now on a race with the liquid dripping down her hand.

Daryl just watches her struggle, until she finally gets a hold on it. “Y’good, there, Bug?”

“Shut up.” And she shoves him a little. She’s got strawberry icecream all over her cheeks and chin and Daryl wishes he took pictures because at this moment he needed one. He needed her to remember forever who she is right now.

“Y’wanna hit?” He asks her like he asks her every time he smokes a joint in front of her. Which is often. And every time she says no, because it’s always no. Never wanted to, never really saw the point. Things were beautiful enough. And it reminded her of Merle, and the bad things he got up to.

Her mind slowly has been changing about it, with Merle gone for so long now. And Daryl being so chill about it when he was about it. A lot of the kids in high school had been doing worse and Lady found herself wanting to say yes when Daryl asked her.

But when she does, Daryl doesn’t believe her, “No fuckin’ way, Bug. Yer buggin’.”

“Bubba, no I’m not. I been thinkin’ about it.”

“Oh, ya have? What’chya been thinkin’ ‘bout it?”

“Just that I kinda wanna try.” She sways on her elbows, licking at her ice cream, “I’m gonna eventually, right? Why not now?”

She’s trying to keep herself calm, but she was more relaxed than she’d usually be when she thought about sayin’ yes. Maybe that’s why she’d finally said it. She was finally able to. Lady thinks that means she must be ready, if she’s not afraid to say she wants to try it.

She remembers this moment for the rest of her life.

Makes her feel brave, like she’ll always know if she’s ready for some new scary experience or not. If she can ask, she’s ready.

He thinks about it for a second, but he doesn’t see where she’s wrong. She probably was gonna try it eventually, why not now? She was safe here, he knew it. She knew it. So he says, “Alrigh’, fine. But yer prolly gon’ jus’ get tired,” and passes the joint to her. Thinking she'd take a tiny hit, probably not even inhale, and wimp out.

Lady takes it delicately in her fingertips and brings it to her lips. She’d tried cigarettes before (and didn’t like them), so the motion wasn’t completely foreign. But everything about it felt new and different. It burned. She almost didn’t feel it until she exhaled. A cloud of smoke billowing out and surrounding the both of them.

Daryl laughs and mutters, “Shit, Bug,” while Lady’s face falls. That was way more than she thought was supposed to come out. Way more than her little lungs were expecting or could take. Her hand shoots out to Daryl for him to take her half eaten ice cream cone as she turns into a rabid dog.

A wild beast on all fours hacking up half her lung and Daryl’s laughing so hard he’s crying, taking the ice cream and the joint back from her as she seizes.

She’ll be okay. He knows she will. And she’ll sleep amazing and she’ll be safe like she always is. Somethin’ in the air felt different there now. With everyone else gone. Like nothing could touch them.

So even though Lady’s about to be as high as a girl could ever be, neither of them are worried it won’t be a good time.

Just them in their fort. Way too old to be playing little kid games and way too young to be playing house.

💕

Lady’s vision was fuzzy. Glittering and dancing and hazy, rainbow bursts of fizzy glowing sparkles.

Lady was secretly afraid she was on fire. She stared at the TV but wondered to herself if it was possible that her lungs were embers that were slowly consuming her chest cavity. She could breathe now, it had been nearly an hour since she hit that joint, but she was sure that she was literally burning alive from the inside out.

“Dar, do you think you can be burning inside your lungs? Like on fire? Is that how people spontaneously combust?”

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up, she’d been quiet for a while and he had been pretty sure that she’d fallen asleep. He had to think about her question. If he wasn’t also stoned he probably would have been able to tell her the answer was obviously no. Instead he says, “Don’t think so.” Which doesn’t really make her feel better. “I ain’t ever hearda it.” That does. Daryl’s hearda everything.

Their voices are soft, the tv’s the only light in the room. Daryl looks over at Lady. Her bare legs disappearing under an old pair of pajama shorts, she’s definitely not on fire. Not the way she means.

“Think yer good, Bug.” He reassured her before asking, “Need som’thin’?”

Lady, sweet as ever, asks, “Tuck me in?”

Daryl rolls his eyes but sits up anyway. Crawling the two steps toward her. He takes what he can of the stretchy old fabric and wraps it around her body. It’s not big enough, it was never gonna be. Daryl cracks a smile, Lady’s been laughing at his attempt. He pushes his fingers with the fabric around her, she’s laying straight as an arrow, blanket stretched to its limit tight against her body.

Daryl isn’t paying attention to his fingers as they tuck the fabric under her thighs, or how tight it’s pulling against Lady’s breasts. Lady does. She took one look at him after she hit that joint and she hasn’t been able to sit right since.

It’s the air, it’s the heat. It’s the sun, maybe something in the water at the creek? Its the pot. It’s gotta be the pot. It’s somethin’ that Lady doesn’t understand. That sometimes just being in proximity is enough.

She felt brave. She wanted to skirt that line. The line itself moving, and blurry, and hard to make-out. She wanted to be touched. And she wanted Daryl to touch her. Not too much, just a little. Just enough to make her heart race. Just enough to kiss her sleep with something that felt like magic.

Her pulse is pounding in her ears and down her throat as she looks at him up above her. She feels her blood burn in her palms, slowly falling away from her sides as the tight fabric comes loose from around her.

Daryl’s lost in the same moment, just caught staring down at her, in a haze himself. Stuck in his head, romanticizing every moment of Lady’s last summer.

“Kiss goodnight?”

The words come from between them. Lady’s voice had spoken them but she’s certain it didn’t come from her mouth.

Doesn’t matter. They’re in the air and Lady and Daryl both pretend that she doesn’t mean it in any way other than what a sister might say to a brother.

Daryl leans down and just barely brushes his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, like he was leaning down and smelling a flower. It’s so brief, and it’s so feather light it almost wasn’t there. Lady and Daryl both pretend it wasn’t.

She closes her eyes and snuggles into her blanket, all bunched up in her arms. And Daryl moves back to his spot, trying not to think about what just happened. How it’s all different now. In two seconds everything was different.

She initiated something new and Daryl already knew he was gonna do what he always did with Lady. Whatever she wanted.

💕

The sun is just barely peaking through the windows when Lady opens her eyes. The tv still playing, she sits up and leans herself forward to turn it off. Turning around to observe Daryl. But she wasn’t expecting… this.

He must have gotten up in the middle of the night and ripped his clothes off because he’s just laying there in his boxers and his wife beater. Head leaning back off the pillow, arms laying on either side of his body. The part that catches Lady completely off guard was between his legs. Hard and trying to push its way out of his boxers. Lady can see a hint of pink between the fabric. The hole in the front tenting out around his bulge.

Lady tries not to look. Knows she shouldn’t. But it’s too lewd to look anywhere else. He moves briefly in his sleep, which only makes their situation worse. His erect member pushing its way completely out of the hole. Lady gawks, feeling something akin to a squeel in her throat. She’d never seen something so… she needed to touch it.

She shuffles closer to him, her knees padding on the layers of blankets underneath them. Her small hand moving out in front of her, she can’t look away.

Her fingertips meet the skin of his bare cock with something Lady is sure is electricity. It’s warmer than she’d imagined, and as she moves, her nails grazing on the skin as she lightly traces up and down, she realizes that his skin here is softer than she’d imagined too.

After a while, she can’t help herself, and wraps her fingers around him. Slowly working her hand up and down, her fingers just barely putting any pressure against him. She wants to squeeze it, to feel how hard it really is, she wants to roll it between both her hands and put it in her mouth and she wants to get to know it better than she knows any part of herself - but she doesn’t wanna wake Daryl up.

It wasn’t even her fingers that woke Daryl up. It was the pressure. Below his stomach, twisting deep inside and throbbing.

He keeps his eyes closed, tries to keep his breathing steady. Tries to get himself to speak up, say something, tell her to stop. At least let her know you're awake. But he can't move.

With his eyes closed he can feel every light touch of Lady’s hand. The way she pushes her palm down when she gets to the base and pulls it off as she gets to the tip, the way she's moving in soft semi-circles, but not while she's going up and down. She's exploring.

Daryl didn't want to stop her.

He's so hard it hurts. He almost winces when she grips him tighter. She was only moving herself in a different position, Daryl realizes, because he feels her other hand on his cock now too.

Lady holds him in one hand, bringing the other up she grazes her index and middle finger over the tip of his length. Gliding his pre-cum all over his head. Trying to see how far it would go, she's surprised it's as slick as it is. She wants to taste it.

Daryl feels her fingers leave him, and hears the slick pop of her tongue as she moves her fingers between her lips. He has to stop himself from rutting his hips up into her hand, stop himself from pushing her head down onto him to feel her wet mouth.

He doesn't have to make her do anything, though.

Daryl feels a soft veil of hair tickle his skin above the waistband of his boxers, and he realizes she's about to put her mouth on him. Her pretty pink lips were about to wrap around his cock head. Her tongue, that he'd watched lick up melting icecream only a few hours ago, was gonna be flat against the underneath of his dick. Lady. With all the sweetness inside of her, was about to suck him off.

Lady can't help herself, doesn't want to. Never learned how. She’s not quite sure how to start what she wants to do but decided to put her lips together and kiss right underneath the tip. She doesn't pull away. Parting her lips and flicking her tongue out from between her teeth to taste more of whatever was coming out of him.

She feels it twitch under her tongue, so she licks him again. Longer, this time, with more certainty. Moving her fingers out of the way, she licks him once all the way from the bottom to the top.

Daryl didn't think about what was gonna happen when he came. What he should do. It happens so fast that he doesn't have time to warn her. The first shot goes right on her face.

Daryl sits up in time for the second and third to be lost somewhere on the blankets or his boxers.

“Shit, Lady. M’so. M’fuckin’ sorry.”

“It's my fault.” She explains in a flat tone. She sits still while Daryl uses his shirt he was wearing last night to wipe off her face. He’s a mess. Red-eared and scared as a dog but Lady's smiling bigger than she has in her whole life.

She ignores his apology, his frantic attitude. She was serene. Like she always was. “When did you wake up?”

“I’unno.” Right at the beginning, really, but he can’t tell her that. Can’t tell himself that.

She ignores him, she didn't really care. “So that’s what happens then? When a guy…” she mouthes the word ‘comes’ in an exaggerated way, looking in Daryl’s eyes the whole time.

He lays back into the pillow, grabbing another one to pull over his face. He can’t believe she just asked him that. She can’t believe this just happened at she was being so casual about it.

Lady pulls the pillow out of his hands just as fast. “No, come on. Ya can’t just not tell me. Not now.”

Daryl puts his arm over his face, only his mouth and his nose peeking out behind the crook of his elbow. She had a point, “Whad’ya wanna know?”

“Everything. All of it.”

“Whad’ya wanna know righ’now.”

Lady tells herself that if she’s ready to know, she’ll be able to ask. “When I have an orgasm nothing comes out. But when guys do it, that’s what happens?”

She bites on her lip and looks down at him, his eyes and most of his face still hidden behind his arm, laying back on the bed. He’d stay like this and answer her questions. Wouldn’t be able to do it if he was looking at her, “uh-huh”. It's more of a grunt than a word.

Lady tries to figure out which question to ask next. She knows a lot of stuff. Boys like it when girls suck on it. Boys like it when girls let them put it inside them. Lady isn’t sure exactly how that works, but she knows what she has. And what they have, and she doesn’t need to ask where it would go.

“Did you like it?”

A long pause. A half sigh, a grunted response, “uh-huh.”

“Do you want me to do it again? Can I.. can I do it again?”

“Na’righ’ now.”

Those words hang there even after Lady gets up and Daryl gets up and they both go about their day. This promise of ‘maybe later’. Daryl has errands to run in town and Lady says she’s got laundry to do, but hes pretty sure she just likes staying at the house.

“Need somethin’, Lay? Goin’ ta town!” He shouts inside the house from out of it, he’d been outside most of the day, mowin’ the lawn, finally cleaning up the old trampoline. Trying to tell himself that even if he'd tried to stop her, she wouldn't have let him.

Lady appears in the doorway in a breath, “Where ya goin’ in town?”

“Store.” He leans against the wood frame lining the area around the steps and lights a smoke.

Lady leans back, swaying her body with both hands on either side of the door by the handles, “Hmmm, maybe we could get stuff for grillin’. And we’re out of ice cream.”

Daryl nods, taking a drag, his eyes squinting against the sun, “Somethin’ else?”

“More pot?” She squints back at him.

He breathes out an almost laugh against the cigarette between his lips, “Yeah, alrigh’. Tha’s it?”

“Wine coolers?”

Daryl actually laughs at that one, “What’re ya tryna prove, Bug?”

She stops swinging on the door, “Not provin’ nothin’. Daddy's dead. Let's live a little.”

💕

So Daryl gets some girly somethin’ - what he assumes are wine coolers. They're in the refrigerated case at the distributor, and there's strawberries and an island on the cardboard carrier. And the bottle’s shaped stupid. Daryl’s sure he's gotten the right thing, or at least something she'd probably like.

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. Never did, and anyway he's surprised it's taken her this long to ask. As far as growin’ up in the sticks, Lady was a good girl. And so she wanted to smoke some pot and drink some wine coolers with her brother?

So what she had all the curious burning of an explorer on their first expedition with every new thing that she tried, and so what if that new thing was Daryl's body and how it reacted to hers?

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. He reasons with himself his whole drive that it can't be that bad. Not if Lady wanted it. Lady never wanted anything bad ever. She never gossiped, or tattled, or cheated at board games. Lady never even tried to sneak sweets. She told Daryl once it was cuz she didn't want anyone else to get in trouble if someone noticed it was missin’. Nah, Daryl figures if Lady wants it, if she asks for it, it can't be somethin’ ugly.

💕

Daryl's on his third beer before he's able to say it, “Lay. Wha’ we did this mornin’ -“ he’s tried to figure out how he feels about it, he’s still not sure he’s making the right choice, but he needs to decide something before she decides for them. “Ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong but - can’t go tellin’ people we did that.”

Lady laughs, she’s on her second wine cooler of her whole life, and all of a sudden Daryl thinks she’s new to the planet earth. She was backwoods but she wasn’t that backwoods. She was, after all, a high school graduate. “You mean I can't tell Auntie Norma I made you…” She mouthes the word ‘come’ again in the same exaggerated way she had earlier before losing herself in a fit of giggles.

Lady and Daryl had folded up their temporary bed and shoved it in the corner. She was currently leaned back on the far edge of the coach, head thrown in laughter. Her shoulders shaking, her hands gripping the bottle between her thighs.

Daryl bites at his thumb, sitting in the armchair across the room from her, he was trying to be serious for a damn second and she was laughing at him. “Jus’ don’ really know whatya think yer doin’. If yer in your right mind ‘n all. An’ y’know we ain't supposed ta.”

He just needed to hear her say it, if she could say it - if she could ask for it, it couldn’t be bad.

“Wasn't thinkin’, Dar. Was just doin’.” She doesn’t really have an answer for him. She's in her right mind, she knows people aren't supposed to do that kind of stuff with their family. But nothin’ ever felt wrong between her and Daryl.

Daryl downs the rest of the beer he's holding in one gulp. He puts his finger in the hole at the top and spins it absentmindedly on his knee, “Jus’ need ya t’know what yer doin’.. it ain't somethin’ people usually do, Bug.”

Lady’s starting to get frustrated. She knew what he was getting at, but why'd he have to say it? “I know I'm not supposed to, Dar. It's like those times you and Merle let me watch scary movies when I was little and I had to tell Momma and Daddy we were watching lions on PBS instead.”

Daryl reaches down and grabs another beer from the case next to the armchair. He just shakes his head. She's gotta know it ain't that simple.

“Bubba, look at me.”

Daryl looks over, curious what she needed the eye contact for, “W’sup, Lay?”

“It’s just you and me out here and as far as I can tell we didn’t hurt anyone.“ She finishes the rest of her drink in one gulp just like he had, “The woods are good at keepin’ secrets, Bub. You know that.” And she smiles, looking down before looking directly at him.

If they didn't know before they both knew now. It wasn't just going to be that one thing that happened between them. The stagnant ‘maybe later' coming back and sitting on their shoulders, in their laps, in every empty space of the room.

‘Maybe’ turns to definitely. To obviously.

Daryl grunts, trying not to let a smile on the corners of his lips. He opens the bottle in his hand and takes a sip before bringing it back down to look at it. Pondering her words like they're written on the label. All he thought he'd needed to hear was that she knew it had to be a secret. That she knew she was committing a crime against god here with him. But now what?

Lady almost can't take it, the cicadas buzzing from outside are so loud it's infesting her brain. She’d been sitting there for an hour trying to figure out how to ask him if she could touch him again. And now that he's brought it up, she can't think of anything else but the way he tasted, the way his thing pulsated and twitched underneath of her tongue. She wants to make him cum again.

Daryl's drinking his beer, lost in thought, while Lady decides she should probably have another one too. She gets up and walks past him to the kitchen.

“Where ya goin’?” He half shouts behind him, a little worried he'd hurt her feelings. Read something wrong. Said something wrong.

Lady smiles to herself, Daryl worried all the time about everything and it always ended up being for nothing. “Just gettin’ another one. That okay with you, pop?” She teases.

She reappears from behind the sheet holding another wine cooler. As she takes her seat back on the couch Daryl leans forward, elbows on his thighs, taking another sip of his drink, “Might wanna slow down on those, Bug.” He's smiling into the bottle.

Lady sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows drawn down in mock anger, “What, afraid I'm gonna blow chunks instead of blow you?” She's been on the edge of it for so long it spills out of her mouth.

Daryl has no idea what the fuck to say to that but he laughs out loud. He genuinely guffaws. If it wasn't his little sister he'd be frozen in his fuckin’ chair. Churning a little at this realization - Cuz when she said it he wasn't uncomfortable. Wasn't afraid, or worried that he was gonna have to do something he might mess up.

“Nah.” He answers her before his mind takes off on a tangent about how it's his sister and the proposition of her sucking his cock should make him uncomfortable. But it didn't.

Cuz if she wants it, it can't be wrong.

“Just keep drinkin’, Lay. If ya blow chunks yer the one stuck cleanin’ it up though.”

“Let's smoke that pot.”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon. Why not, bub?”

“Cross-faded.”

“What's that?”

“Pots different after y’drink. Jus’.. trus’me on this one.” He sips his beer, “‘nless yer really set on blowin’ chunks. Tha’s definitely a sure fire way.”

Lady shakes her head, taking her drink from between her thighs again and sipping it before putting it back.

She's gotta figure out how to ask soon or she was gonna drink herself to sleep.

Daryl can see her workin’ something out in her head, “S’goin’ on, Lay?.”

She’s staring at a spot on the ground and she doesn’t look up, “Thinkin’.”

“‘bout wha’?”

“Your cock in my mouth.”

Daryl chokes on the spit he was swallowing, “Christ.” He says as he coughs. He doesn't think he's ever heard her say that word. “Yer really serious, huh?” He asks again, this time because he truly can’t believe it. Why would she, the sweetest piece of Georgia pie, wanna put her pretty mouth on him? Even if he was her brother. Especially because he was her brother.

She smiles and looks down at her fingers around the top of her bottle. Blushing beet red and nodding her head so aggressively her hair moves.

He wants to let her but somethin’ about it doesn't feel right. Not because of who she was or who he was, or cuz it was wrong. “Shouldn't jus’ blow guys, Lay.”

“Whaddya mean?” She picks at the label on her drink, not looking up at him. Nervous and excited and hanging on his every word.

“People, uh - usually… do other stuff first.” He explains, not wanting to make her feel bad for what she'd already done, but wanting her to understand she can't just do that to other guys.

Lady laughs, a sigh of relief escaping her as she brings the brim up to take another swig. There's a million things sitting between her teeth and her lips just waiting to be said. Instead, she just asks, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

💕

pt. 2

A/n: This is coming out a whole lot sweeter than I thought it was going to be and I know in the end it's going to break my little heart.

Anyway sorry, most of the smut will be in part 2 where I imagine going into detail about their first time (for a few different things) as well as how they are once they get more comfortable as they get deeper into the summer.

Broken up into two parts because I can't fathom proofreading these 6,000 words one more time.

(Next part will be up as fast as I can write it.)

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #Spotify

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kittyball23 · 5 months

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Could you make a fanfiction of when Poppy surprised Branch that she was expecting to have a baby? And they tell all their friends and family the news? How would Branch react? And how would their family and friends react to the news too? I always imagine that they're excited to become parents, and so do their loved ones!? Could you do that? I also love the idea that their little girl had blue eyes, like her father's, Branch, indigo hair, and I imagined she looked like her mother, Poppy.

Hi! I wanted to break this up into 2 parts, this first one will be the siblings’ reaction to the news - I think Branch’s deserves a separate oneshot (I can’t say when I’ll have it ready for, as I do have a couple other requests from my Inbox to fill, but I hope you enjoy!)

Taking the News (a Trolls fanfic)

“AAAIIIIIIIYYYYYYYAIIIII!!!!”

Viva’s excited scream burst through the air, the Putt Putt Queen leaping a good couple feet up in an uncontained joy. The energy only doubled once she landed, waving her hands wildly about and gushing while she paced about and spoke a mile a minute. “OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” She zipped over to Poppy and gently patted at her belly.

“Hello in there! It’s your Auntie Viva! Oh, I just know you’re gonna be so itty, and bitty, and cutie-wootie just like your Mommy was! AND I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU!”

The Pop Queen giggled at her sister. “Veevs, I’m only a couple months. I’m not even sure if they can hear you yet!”

Branch on the other hand differed on this viewpoint. “After that scream? Yeah, they probably did.” Viva grinned sheepishly when she noticed the blue Troll rub his ears.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Branch! It’s just that this is so, SO fantast-amazing!! Actually, it’s better than fantast-amazing! It’s fantast-AMAWESOME!” She squealed and bounced off to the side, expending her energy in one of the best ways she knew how - braiding! By the time her feet were back on the ground, it was Clay who was donning a brand-new French-braided hairstyle, topped off with little bows and glitter of all sorts of colors.

Clay groaned at how silly it looked. “Viva! Why me?” he whined.

Viva sprang to his side and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Because you need to stop being a serious-boy grumpy-poo and get loose! My sis is gonna be a mom!! And your brother’s gonna be a dad!!” She celebrated by grabbing Clay in a tight hug and twirling him around.

When he was released, the lime-green-Troll found himself taking her advice, forgetting all about his hair and grinning broadly at Branch.

“Congrats, bro! I’m real proud of ya!” He fist-bumped the bashful blue Troll. Branch readied himself to reply, when he suddenly heard a sniffle. It came as no surprise that the Troll who had burst into tears was none other than Floyd.

“Oh, Branch, this is such a special thing! I’m honored to be an uncle, and I’m so happy for you…” He trailed off, a sob taking place where words failed him. He easily wept into Branch’s shoulder when his younger bro pulled him in for a hug.

“Thanks. I’m pretty psyched, too,” Branch agreed, smiling as he pictured their child. What would they look like? Perhaps they’d have his dark, indigo hair and sparkling blue eyes. Or they could be all Poppy, in gorgeous appearance and stunning personality. Or maybe their kid would inherit King Peppy’s orange skin tone, or Grandma Rosiepuff’s teal button nose. Branch’s head spun with all of the possibilities, each and every one perfect and plausible, until the reality of the situation weighed down on him. Being a father was a big responsibility. A flicker of doubt seemed to flash across his face right at that moment, which did not go unnoticed by Bruce.

The purple-haired Troll approached him and patted a hand on his back. “Hey, man, I know it can seem kinda scary at first - I know I was a little nervous for my first kid - but trust me, it becomes a breeze. And when it’s not, just call me for help! I got your back, bro.” He winked at Branch, making him feel a lot better. Bruce, after all, was an experienced dad, having fathered 13 kids of his own - all of who would become cousins to the new bundle of joy entering into his life.

John Dory suddenly swept in alongside them. “And me, too!”

Branch and Bruce gave him a curious look. “Wait… John, you’re a dad?”

JD’s jaw dropped. “Uh, yeah! You forgot? Man!” He strolled over to his caterbus, Rhonda, and patted her side lovingly. “It’s okay, girly,” he cooed, “they didn’t mean to forget about you, darling. Who’s the cutest caterbussy in the whole wide world? Huh? You are!”

Rhonda trilled in appreciation at John Dory’s sappy words, while Branch exchanged a look with his other brothers. While he wanted to point out that taking care of a caterbus was not all the same as it was taking care of a little Trolling, Branch couldn’t help but feel his own bout of appreciativeness towards his bro’s offer to help. Feeling playful, he grabbed JD with one arm and noogied him with the other, the pair of them laughing by the end of it.

Poppy and Viva in the meantime were having their own share of sisterly love, hugging and shrieking, and jumping up and down over the elation of it all.

“Ohhh, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Poppy cried. “I’m gonna tell Bridget, and Biggie, and Mr. Dinkles, and Guy Diamond, and Satin and Chenille, and - “

“And Dad!” Viva cut in with a grin.

Poppy squealed. “Oh, my gosh!”

She and Viva shouted at the same time at the top of their lungs: “DAD’S GONNA FREAK!” Both girls burst into a fit of giggles just picturing the look on the elderly king’s face once the news hit him full force.

Viva bounced up and down once again and wrangled Poppy and the boys together.

“Aw, come here, guys! Group hug!” Arms enveloped Poppy and Branch from all sides in a flurry of limbs, letting the two happy parents know that they - along with their new kiddo - were indeed loved very dearly.

**********************************************************

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving!!

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #dreamworks #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #brozone #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers #100+

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just-jordie-things · 11 months

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Ohhh then can I ask for 37 prompt with gojo

Cuz why do I feel like this man would have the most awkward crush kiss with his so in high school scenario

went out on a limb and guessed u meant 38 but if u want 37 lmk! <3

38: Awkward Teenage Crush Kiss ___

gojo satoru had no fears. he was the strongest man in the world and he'd known it since he was old enough to know anything. he was overbearing in his confidence, and had been a cocky little shit since he could walk. still, the world bowed down to him, out of respect, out of fright, it didn't matter, they bowed.

being treated like royalty a god came with and odd warping of a young kid's mind. for the first fifteen or so years of his life, satoru would have told you that he loved it, he loved the praise, he loved the admiration, he loved his own force of sheer power- and that wasn't exactly untrue now, now that he was nearing graduation and ready to make a proper debut as a jujutsu sorcerer.

but there was definitely somethind different about him now. now that he'd had a glimpse into the dark realities of jujutsu society, now that he had an understanding of what he was really fighting to protect. his mind was growing, he was evolving, and it had slowly happened before your eyes as you spent your years right by his side, as his classmate, and then his friend, and now...

you'd definitely had some kind of effect on satoru, he'd known that much for a while now. something about your relaxed presence seemed to wrap him up and calm him, too. your usual indifference to his banter or flirting often had him flustered, bewildered by your fond eyes and sweet smile. you actually cared for him, you actually enjoyed his company, and you didn't keep these a secret from him.

you greeted him delightedly when he'd return from missions or join you for lunch, throwing your arms around him with the same excitement either way. had he been gone for weeks or hours it didn't matter, your eyes crinkled with your joy at his presence beside you.

and for the very first time, satoru doesn't know what he's done to deserve such treatment. he can't recall a definitive moment where there had been this shift in your relationship, when he'd started thinking about you even when you weren't there. and he certainly tried to remember, he'd lay awake late into the night racking his memory for what it was he'd done to earn your affections- even if they were friendly. but he never got anywhere, and most nights drifted off to sleep thinking about the warm way you smiled at him, and the sweet way you spoke to him.

it's a few nights before you're going to properly graduate when he finally works up the courage to ask you about it.

(gojo satoru has never had to convince himself to be courageous in his life. he simply was)

you're focused on the movie that the two of you had made plans to watch- the second part of a trilogy you'd been excited about and therefore satoru insisted you made the time to watch them all together- when he breaks the silence with his sudden question.

"why do you like me?"

you give him a double take, at first sending a soft smile his direction having expected a random comment, only to realize what he'd actually asked you, and now you're furrowing your brow.

you kick your legs out across his bed as you mull the query over, as though genuinely trying to find an answer, and satoru frowns when you don't instantly give him a reason.

"do you really need me to tell you?" you ask with a giggle of amusement.

"why else would i ask?" he says with wide, impatient eyes. you giggle again, always finding joy in his company, somehow.

"cause you like praise" you respond honestly. satoru's brows fall as he gives you a bored look, but you just shrug your shoulder before turning your attention back to the movie.

satoru shifts in his previously comfortable position to face you, crossing his legs in his lap as he leans into your personal space.

"you're really not going to tell me?" he whines.

"you don't need me to tell you," you let out a breathless laugh, a little surprised by his antics today. "we've been friends for years, you know exactly why i like you"

"well, you could still tell me" he tilts his head, and you smile in admiration as soft wisps of white hair sweep across his forehead.

"i don't need you to tell me why you like me" you point out, leaning your head back against the wall. satoru pouts, now that you've given up what he was going to use as leverage.

"can you just give me a hint?" he huffs, and your smile widens brilliantly, as though you've never been in a better mood than you are right now.

all of the time you spent with satoru felt like that.

"you're so dense sometimes," you sigh at him. "but you're probably my favorite person on the planet"

that makes him smile- and it makes his face warm, too, which you can see, and you take great delight in it.

"really?"

"really," you affirm in a soft voice. "i like you because you're unlike anyone else i've ever met, and i imagine i never will meet someone quite like you,"

you give in, because it's hard not to when he's looking at you so intently. you wonder if he knows that he has this power over you, or if he's clueless about it, too.

"i like you because you know exactly who you are, and you've never been afraid to be that person," you continue fondly. "i like you because you're the nosiest, most involved person in the world, and you make a great effort in making sure i'm okay, safe or fed or having slept well, you put more time in making sure i'm taking care of myself- and taking care of me when i can't- than you've ever turned around and given to yourself,"

you sit up off the wall now, brows pinching in just the slightest as you think through what you wanted to tell him next. your eyes flicker over his features as you edit and retract words in your mind. satoru looks like he's never focused harder in his life, hanging onto your every word, and then tucking them carefully into a special spot in his chest that must be for you because it warms whenever you're around, by his side or in his mind, that spot seems to buzz with life and excitement.

a smile twitches on your lips before you speak again.

"i like you because the way you treat me- the way you make me feel has helped me learn how to like myself," you muse. "because i know if you see something in me worth sticking around for... then that something must be there"

satoru's heart is hitting against his chest so hard he can feel it in his ears, and he thinks it might just sucker punch it's way through his ribcage and into your hands.

or maybe it's been in your hands all this time?

his eyes flicker between yours as you share shy smiles and nervous, breathless laughter.

yes, he thinks with absolute certainty, his heart has been yours all this time. and deep down he realizes he must've always known it, because you made him feel just the same way.

you'd always been more than a friend, you'd been his person, the only person that stuck by him and put up with him through and through- and you'd never found it to be a chore. you were his favorite person, and just as you said yourself, you always would be.

"i want to kiss you,"

he blurts it out, and his face is pink with the slight embarrassment of not having conducted himself in a bit more of a romantic way, but he can't help it. your eyes go wide before they soften, and you're smiling back at him in pleasant surprise.

"i mean i-" satoru huffs, rolling his eyes at himself before moving closer to you, staring at you with a heaviness you'd never felt from him before. it had your heart doing somersaults as you waited for him to say what he meant. "can i kiss you?"

this time it comes out soft, his gaze falling to your lips before you answer, already swept up in the idea of kissing you that he's running his tongue over bottom lip with anticipation.

"yes"

your answer falls from your mouth in a murmur and not even a second passes before his lips are on yours, firm and sweet and kissing you with such a desperation you could almost believe the world was ending and this was your only chance.

you kiss him softly, languidly, taking your time as you slant your mouth over his and try to commit every detail of being this close to him to memory. but it's not long before you throw all caution out the window and your hands are awkwardly grabbing at him- his collar, his shoulders, his hair- it's like you're unsure what to do with them, but in reality you're just eager to take in every second of this moment.

as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, testing all new waters, you both grow sloppy in your movements. he's practically pawing at you, pulling you close, his hands gliding everywhere they can reach and in turn you're pressing into him until your nose is smushed into the curve of his, soft pants falling against his lips before you're kissing them again.

it's messy, it's uncoordinated, and if you weren't in your body right now you would laugh at the sight of the two of you kissing so madly you aren't even bothered when your lips clash at awkward angles, with you accidentally kissing his teeth and his own kisses landing on your chin, or your cupid's bow. if you truly were out of body, though, you'd realize that you hadn't even cared- or seemed to notice at all.

it was a bliss only the heavens could bequeath upon you, and despite having all the time in the world, you and satoru were happy to rush through your kisses, letting your excitement get the better of you.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

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