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empresskylo · 9 months

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cod men headcanons in an age gap relationship?

i have such a thing for age gaps...i blame society. also, i’m only including ghost, price, and alejandro because the other men are too young imo. ik some of their ages are debatable, so in my mind, ghost is at least 30.

Ghost

♡ honestly, i don't think my guy really gives a shit if there is an age difference between you two. like his morals are all skewed, and the last thing he'd waste time worrying about would be a *legal* age gap.

♡ being younger than him would just make his nicknames for you that much more adorable. he likes to add the words 'little' and 'tiny' in front of a lot of the things he calls you. "little mouse" "little dove" "tiny girl/boy"

♡ regardless of how much experience you have (with relationships, sex, etc) he will always act like he knows more than you. he can find himself treating you like you’re so innocent and new to everything--even if you do the same line of work as him, i.e. killing people. and it can definitely annoy you.

♡ it doesn’t matter how many people you’ve been with or how many people you’ve killed; no matter what, he knows more than you. and honestly, even tho it can annoy you sometimes, him being so dominant is just super hot.

♡ “simon, i know how to do it” you whined, as he wrapped his arms around you, showing you how to properly use a sniper. you were used to so many other guns, but not snipers. “mhm,” he mocked, stepping away from you. when you shot the gun, you missed your target by quite a few feet. your cheeks warmed and you hesitated before looking back at simon. his arms were crossed over his chest as he eyed you. you could tell he had a smug smile plastered across his face under his mask. he did not need his ego inflated any more than it already was.

Price

♡ price was definitely concerned when he first realized he had feelings for you. he knew you were of age, but that didn't stop the odd feeling he got when he was around you--like he was taking advantage of you.

♡ and his way of flirting was to act like your father… he thought he was being nice, showing you how to do stuff, always having your back. but my god was he appalled when you were frustrated with him one day after he keep hounding you about something.

♡ “Ok, dad! i get it!” “what did you just call me?” You heard the anger in his tone. shit, you were getting too comfortable around your captain, you should not have teased him like that. “S-sorry, captain. I didn’t mean—“ He cut you off, clearly agitated for a different reason than you being smart with him. “is that how you view me, doll? like a father?” if you said yes, price would know he needed to back off. he could take a hint. “No… I… You just wouldn’t get off my back. I was just trying to be funny.” You felt so embarrassed as you explained yourself. Price got into your space and grabbed your chin in his hand, titling your head up to look at him. you gulped. “you wanna call me endearments? go ahead. but don’t ever call me that again.” he looked at you a moment longer before turning away. suddenly fueled with adrenaline, you called after him. “what about daddy?” Price spun around quicker than you could register before he was pushing you backward, his hand tight in your hair as he yanked your head back to look up at him again with a gasp. “fuckin’ brat,” he muttered, a sly smile crossing his lips.

♡ as much as price truly does not care about your sexual history, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a bit knowing how much more innocent you were than him. you could have slept with a bunch of people for all he cared, but knowing you were that much younger than him, he knew he had more experience than you regardless. and something about that sparked a flame in his chest. he had a thing for wanting to show you the ropes.. but he definitely felt guilty about thinking that way. he wouldn’t have been any less attracted to you knowing you slept with a hundred other people. he knew you being “innocent” shouldn’t turn him on. but it did…

♡ he is very possessive of you. doesn’t like the idea of other men thinking they have a chance with you. but he can get a bit self-conscious whenever a younger man approaches you or checks you out. “you really wanna be with an old man like me?” he’d ask. as confident as he is, in the beginning of your relationship, being so much older than you made him second guess himself. shouldn’t you want to be with someone your own age? “jesus, price. you’re only 37. you act like you’re knocking on hell's door.” he’d start tickling you for your bratty remark, but it definitely placated some of his nerves.

♡ and since he has more experience dating wise, he’d say “i love you” pretty early on. he’s not dating you thinking it’s some fling. he’s serious about you. and he’s lived long enough to know when he’s in love. and he’s not afraid to say it.

♡ you were saying goodbye to price as he went off on a mission. he’d only be gone a few days, but you’d hate every minute of it. he kissed you, his mustache tickling your lip. “i love you,” he murmured when he pulled away. he smirked as he appraised your stunned face. and he’d turn and leave before you had a chance to process his words, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get them out of your head the whole time he was gone.

Alejandro

♡ definitely feels bad at first, like he’s taking advantage of you. he reminds you all the time to tell him if you’re uncomfortable. that you can say no. he just doesn’t want you to feel used.

♡ as he gets more confident in the way you want him, he starts to use it against you. same as ghost, he mocks you as if you’re so innocent and inexperienced. “see, this is what they call a—“ “Yes, Ale. I know. I’m the one who showed you that.” resulting in a cheeky wink from him.

♡ during training, he embarrassed you in front of the others. when you messed up a move, he made a big deal showing you how to execute it properly even though you’ve been in the army for years now and knew how to do it in your sleep. he liked to see the way you’d get flustered with all the other guys around as he teased you.

♡ he definitely exudes a dominant side and it definitely comes out around you. he wants to do everything for you. wants to carry shit that’s too heavy for you. he wants to be your ride. the first person you call when you need help. he wants to be your everything.

♡ he also acts a little more dominant in bed than he would if he was with someone his age. something about you looking up at him with your sweet little doe-eyes sparked a dominating need within him. he takes control. he leads. he tells you what to do. he barks out commands. he punishes you for being bratty. he takes control in every sense of the word. The only time you can really hold anything over him is when he’s getting close to finishing. you’ll be able to get him to say whatever you want him to, his mind lost in a haze, wanting nothing more than to find the release you’re about to give him. “Please,” he begged. you smiled as you hovered above him. you sank back down on him and continued your motions, and he quickly climaxed. his hands squeezed your hips as he groaned. “fuckin’ perfect.”

#ghost #simon riley #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #alejandro vargas headcanons #john price headcanons #call of duty headcanons #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #captain john price #john price

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httpsserene · 6 months

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Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged.

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens.

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you.

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands.

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well��” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off.

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable.

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls.

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome.

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled.

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm.

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread.

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

taglist: @saintslewi@cherry2stems@lorarri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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duncantashi · 2 years

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having a breakdown at 1 in the morning because of exams

#i hate this sm #i felt like i haven't slept properly in ages #i am just tired #and it's gonna be like this till i finish my bachelors #and i have no idea what it'll be like after that #i wish i was back in school when my sleep schedule wasn't so fucked up

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joyoushyuck · 3 months

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requested

00:56

Your hand is raised in front of the door, about to knock, when the door clicks open on its own. Donghyuck doesn't seem surprised by your presence; his expression is morphed into one of indifference. He is wearing his glasses and that white Celine shirt he loves to wear on special occasions. His long hair curls at his nape, a few curly strands beautifully swaying at the front. You would call him gorgeous if it wasn't for the pressing situation at hand. He walks past you into the kitchen and extracts a water bottle from the fridge. You flinch when he slams the door shut.

“Donghyuck,” you try. He chugs the water down, ignoring you. “Donghyuck list-”

A thud, water on your feet and a gasp leaving your mouth, and Donghyuck storms past you back into the bedroom. The blue baby shark bottle lays a few inches away from your legs with a broken hinge and a crack near the top.

You bite your lips in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. You brought this on yourself, you have no right to cry. If forgetting your anniversary was not enough of a fault, you went on to blame it on your workload and blame him for being upset. Not your smartest move.

Dejected, you walk back to the couch and lay down. You haven't slept properly in ages, you really were preoccupied with an important project at work, but even that isn't a good reason to stop doing the bare minimum. Donghyuck's anger is justified.

You don't have a blanket; no amount of hugging yourself provides you the warmth that Donghyuck’s body exudes. The pit of your stomach feels hollow with dread; the guilt weighs you down and threatens to swallow your being. After an hour of twisting and turning, you give up on the idea of sleep. There's no way you can sleep peacefully without resolving this conflict. Your throat constricts and heart sinks at the prospect of Donghyuck ending this relationship for his own good.

So you walk up to the door resolutely. If Donghyuck continues to give you the silent treatment, you know your resolve will take a hit pretty soon. However, doing something to show that you care is better than doing nothing.

“Hyuck,” you start, only to hear your voice crack. It pains you as much as it pains him to have landed in such a predicament. “I'm sorry, Donghyuck, it's my fault. Please, just open the door.”

You are met with silence. Did he fall asleep already? It seemed unlikely but you couldn't rule out the possibility.

“Hyuck, are you awake? Baby? Just please answer me.”

Still no response. But then, something drops, and you hear the old bed squeak, his feet shuffle and the spring in your mattress dip. So he's awake.

“Donghyuck, love, please talk to me.” You cringe at the desperation in your own voice. “I am sorry, I know I fucked up Hyuck. Shout at me, hit me, just-”

You clutch your hair, your back sliding against the door and butt hitting the cold floor. A shiver runs down your spine. Was it winter already?

“Just don't be quiet, please.”

You bury your face in your hands in a last ditch attempt to keep the sobs under control. It didn't seem to be working in your favour. The stress at work seems to be finally catching upto you as well. Donghyuck needs space. He doesn't need you annoying him now when all this could have been prevented had you been more mindful of your actions. You accept your fate and curl into a bundle, deciding to give it a rest for now.

That's how Donghyuck finds you a few hour laters.

You are hugging your knees close to your chest, head resting uncomfortably on the hard floor. When he takes a closer look, he can see the dried streak of tears on your cheek. You are trembling, and he realises you haven't even switched the heater on. Something in him breaks at the sight of you like this.

“Hey, baby,” he gently taps your cheek to wake you up. “Baby, you can't sleep here, come in.”

You make a little noise. He is met with the uncontrollable urge to coo at you, but stops himself given the situation.

“Wake up doll,” he tries again. “You are going to have a terrible back pain at this rate.”

You blink your eyes open sluggishly after a few moments. Donghyuck isn't wearing his glasses anymore and his hair is mussed up. “Hyuck?” You ask, your sleep muddled brain still not catching up. “Is everything alright?”

Donghyuck sighs, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for long, no matter what you did.

“Come sleep on the bed baby. We'll talk about the rest in the morning. Come in now.”

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 months

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Paperwork

summary: While Price's injury is healing nicely, you're growing needier by the minute. But you're not the only one. With the doctors order in mind, you and Price attempts to stave your hunger by having you cockwarm him in his office.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, depiction of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, cockwarming, p in v, teasing, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap

a/n: Well, that little valentines blurb really helped to get the writing going🫡

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Christmas passed just as slowly and cosy as you'd predicted, perhaps with one slight change of plans.

You'd returned home the night you'd dropped John from the hospital and helped him settle in somewhat. Despite debating whether to stay the night, your soldier urged you to head home to rest properly after spending so much time away.

You understood he tired of your company. In fact, he had a point, seeing how you wouldn't sleep soundly with him, constantly worrying if you would disturb his sleep by sharing a bed. And you needed a fresh set of clothes anyway. But you also noticed that being hurt took a toll on John. He'd accepted that you would be there to help him, but something told you he needed time to brood over the fact he was on med-leave for the upcoming months.

Once you returned to the flat you'd left in a hurry almost two days ago, you wandered aimlessly, trying to finish setting up your Christmas lights. However, whatever adrenaline the past 48 hours provided finally seemed to ebb, and you crashed on your couch shortly after finishing your task.

By the time you woke up again, it had been dark outside. Dinner that night hadn't been glamorous, partly because you didn't have any finished food in your fridge and partly because you were yet to be hungry from the late lunch you shared with John before leaving his place. Still, the bowl of instant ramen warmed the cold feeling settling in your body from merely looking outside your window and down at the snowy streets.

You slept in the next day, waking up with a warm body and nose slightly chilled from the cool temperature in your room. The rest of the day was slow. You checked in on John with a message around noon, accustomed to reaching out to anyone in your closest circle around that time, seeing how no one usually was up earlier on the weekend, even if John definitely didn't categorise as one of those. He'd given you the awaited broody reply, grumbling about a horrid night of sleep and a dull ache even after taking his prescribed meds.

You stared at his message for a minute until deciding to give him a call rather than answer it.

'Hell, love'.

'God, you really sound worse for wear', was your instinctive response as John greeted you with a rough voice.

'Cheers', he huffed in return, a groan following shortly after. At that moment, you rubbed your forehead, an ache settling in your heart at not being there with him.

'How about I come over today already? Christmas is approaching, and we already said we would celebrate together. Wouldn't hurt if I stayed with you in the upcoming days with your shoulder and all...', you trailed off at the end.

'Know you have no problem with it, but I don't want to take up all your time if you have other things planned', he responded tentatively. 'I've managed worse on my own'.

'Don't have to do it alone anymore'. You reminded him, and with that, he didn't argue.

'Pack your bags, then'.

And you'd packed your bags for a week. Although, by now, you'd stayed two, with the occasional trip back to your flat to swap out some clothes.

John's shoulder healed nicely, even if the process was arduously slow, but at least it meant his injury wasn't inflamed. God forbid you would've seen it like that. While you never counted yourself as squeamish, the first time you'd helped John rid himself of the bandages and the surgical tape that, for a seeable future, needed to be changing once a week, you also remembered that neither had you ever seen a freshly sewn-together wound.

His skin was a deep pink, and the sewn-together parts puckered and elevated from the surrounding areas. You almost shied from pulling the surgical tape the rest of the way when first laying eyes on the injury. Upon seeing the scrunch of your nose and worried glance up his face, John made you step back and do the rest, reassuring you it didn't hurt, just strained unpleasantly if he moved wrong.

While it may not have hurt while gently cleaning the wound the first time and that John now could go without the sling, it didn't mean you didn't notice the pull in his features when he did make a too-fast movement or a shift that pulled at the stitches and deeper-torn tissue. He's still instructed not to carry anything heavy, making you catch a grumble of 'a goddamn month more' as you passed by right before your name was called numerous times.

You didn't chide him from initially thinking he would manage on his own, but you both knew what the look you sent him implied and that his thank-you kiss was a silent acknowledgement that you'd been right. It would've been anything but enjoyable for him if you hadn't spent the past two weeks with him.

Even though only two weeks had passed, you quickly noticed John wasn't a man who could go long periods without doing anything. That didn't mean he couldn't take it easy. As he said himself, he'd learned that skill. But, reading so many books while having x amounts of scotches was only as enjoyable and appropriate as it could be to not count as light alcoholism. John was itching to do something more than sit idly around or keep you company during whatever you did.

So, it wasn't a surprise the first time you found him in his study a few days ago. He'd looked up from the papers with a caught-in-the-act look when you knocked on his study's door, the excuse of work piling up that he needed to look over leaving his lips instantly. You'd never been the one so strict about working when home; your free-lancing job was practically based upon it. Therefore, you'd waved his excuse away, padding into the office you'd barely set foot inside despite the many times you'd visited him.

You'd leant against the side of his desk, not more than casting a quick side-eyed glance on his computer to show you noted its presence but not the contents on the screen before your gaze sought his. Upon your curiosity of what it was, John indulged you in what he occupied himself with.

And just like that, John, who usually was so strict about not working when spending time with you, grew lenient on that rule of thumb, restlessness gnawing at his bones enough to slip away an hour or two each day to occupy his mind. But, you always saw him at the same times during the day, joining you on the couch in his living room or in his bedroom, hijacking the TV remote to follow the post-Christmas football matches.

You jokingly poked his side each time he did, commenting on how there were two TVs in his house if he'd forgotten. But you only got a quirk in his lip and wink in return as he proclaimed he needed to convert you into a fan, teasingly anchoring you to his side with a heavy arm if you threatened to escape.

But you both knew you didn't mind cuddling into his side with your head on his chest, following the matches of the day, only if he started getting too worked up when his team played and jostling your head around too much.

And that settled you into a new routine. While you busied yourself around the house, occasionally working a few days here and there, John watched football and occasionally retreated to his study. Although you left him to his work, he always left his door open, showing you it was free to enter if you desired.

Today was one of those days you did your separate things, not having seen each other much since the breakfast you shared, after which John left you with a kiss and 'know where to find me'.

It had been fine. It is fine. You'd gotten ahead of work for the new year, and John eased his workload gradually. And yet, glancing at your phone screen, you note lunch is overdue.

Sure, today had been slow. You and John had laid in bed for a while, basking in the last of the Christmas spirit the days between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve carried. And so, breakfast had been eaten later than usual, meaning lunch was also to be pushed forward. However, at half past one, John should've emerged from his office for a well-deserved break and shared the task of cooking something.

Putting aside your book, you move from the couch and wander outside the range of the fireplace's warmth. Its fire had long since burned out, and now the only parts glowing were the embering coals.

Your fuzzy socks act as a barrier between your feet and the cold wood beneath as you wander up the stairs. Despite the constant blast of radiators and the fireplace harbouring a non-stop fire, the floor always remains chilly when the temperature drops outside.

Much like the past days, the door to John's study stood ajar. But, compared to earlier, when you'd retrieved something from the bedroom, you didn't only pass it with a glance inside, finding John staring down at his computer with his injured arm resting in his lap as his other scrolled whatever he was going through. Now, you pushed the door open, locating him not behind his desk but seated in one of the two Chesterfield armchairs.

The edge of your mouth quirks upwards as you observe his upper body bent backwards over the low backrest, laptop resting in his lap, kept only from slipping by his hand. As you enter his peripheral vision, he glances in your direction. You offer him a warm smile as you close the distance, moving to stand behind the chair.

"How's it going?" You look down at the head tilted far enough backwards that John can watch you, albeit upside down, from where he sits. He grunts in response, eyebrows raising swiftly as he straightens.

You chuckle, hands that previously rested on the leather sliding to rest on John's shoulders, where you immediately dig your fingers into his muscles. He groans again, but this time, his head dips forward as you follow the tight tendons near his neck.

"That much to do?" You hum as you let up on the pressure, concentrating more on his uninjured side, following the muscles out to his shoulder, only to return and follow his spine to the back of his head.

"Not really". A harsh breath follows John's sentence when you find a knot along his neck and concentrate on easing it with your thumb. "The boys can manage, Laswell too, but whatever's possible to be pushed forward, they leave to me, meanin' things that need readin' through and cleared for the go-ahead".

"Imagine it ain't like that book I gave you", you muse, John only scoffing in return.

"Nothin' like it", he almost grumbles. "Would much rather cosy up with you and read that than this". He flicked the screen with his finger, a semi-metallic, semi-glass tick ringing from his action.

"You know very well you can drop work and cosy up with me and that book anytime you want. You're on leave". You remind him with a small smile, knowing he isn't really complaining.

With this being your first Christmas, you'd agreed to not spend too much on presents, even if you both had bought each other spontaneous gifts before, John being the culprit for spoiling you with expensive things much more often. While he'd gifted you a necklace he'd caught you looking at, you'd gotten him a book he mentioned wanting to read and a cigar to add to his collection. One, that at the moment, remained pretty stagnant as John refrained from having a smoke the first weeks of recovery. But you knew he itched for one, catching him eyeing the container he kept them in more than once.

"Hm, 'bout that", John's head lolled backwards, his gaze locking with yours. "Come here", he cocked his head, motioning for you to move around the chair. You did as he wished while he lodged his feet beneath the furniture's edge, moving the heavy armchair slightly backwards to allow you to stand between him and the low table.

With you now in front of him, John placed his laptop on the wide armrest, leaning forward shortly after. Concerning it being the closest, the hand of his injured arm slipped around your naked lower thigh when he sat forward, your oversized sweater ending just above his hand.

"Said here", John nods to his lap, pressing gently at the back of your leg.

"Your shoulder, John", you lightly scold his insistence, knowing where things would go if you ended up straddling him.

"It's fine". He insisted, tugging at your leg again. This time, you relented somewhat, stepping between his spread legs, the armchair's brown leather cool against your shins.

"The doctor told you to take it easy, let it heal." You reminded him of the instructions he'd received, but now, he scoffed at them.

With his head tilted to the side and displeased crease between his brows, his hand slipped down just an inch. The sudden tug as his fingers dug into the back of your knee took you off guard. It made your leg bend, and to not fall forward, your leg caught the excess seat beside his thigh as you caught yourself on the armrest to keep yourself steady.

You send John a look, as his stunt could've easily made you brace against his shoulder rather than the furniture. But he only cranes his head slightly as you hover over his self-satisfied self, a quirk bowing his lips.

"Takin' it incredibly easy, just you who's makin' me work hard for it". There's a glint in his eyes as his hands slide upwards, massaging the back of your upper thigh from how your dress-like sweater has ridden up somewhat, sneakily trying to urge you to settle entirely on top of him. Even so, you remain hovering.

"Missed you, love". You narrow your eyes at the change in his approach.

"Missed me or something else?"

"Both." John's answer is almost boyish in how a half grin stretches his lips and the cock of his head. You roll your eyes but can't withstand his request any longer, the butterflies in your chest never truly escaping when close to the man.

Climbing into the seat with as much grace as possible, you're mindful of his shoulder, bracing against the opposite side on the backrest to ensure you don't accidentally grip it for support. But the armchair is wide enough for your legs to comfortably slot on either side of his hips, and your hands slide to rest on his abdomen instead.

Now planted in his lap and more accessible to avoid straining his shoulder to reach for you, both of John's hands find purchase on your waist.

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" He humours you with an arched brow as you shuffle in his lap to make yourself comfortable, only to feel something beneath you.

"No, but something seems to be". You tilt your head, alluding to the semi you slowly felt more prominently in his sweats.

"Haven't felt my girl in nearly a month. Can you blame me?" You shake your head with a huff through your nose, gaze cast down until it returns to his.

"Thought you were confident you wouldn't cave first".

"Never said that", John hums as he curves his back to make himself more comfortable in the armchair, making you settle more firmly over his crotch. "Although I remember you sayin' you could go the longest without a proper fuck". He dares you to deny it with a cock of his brows.

You roll your eyes but don't technically argue against him. "With how you are speaking, I could think you're growing desperate".

He clicks his tongue. "Can't guilt trip me for missin' your warm cunt".

"Jesus, John", you flush under his heavy gaze and crude words, enough for you to look to the side.

Fingers knock beneath your chin, quickly redirecting your attention back to him. Greeting you is a pair of blue eyes twinkling in intrigue. "So what you say, wanna keep me warm while I work?"

You eye him sceptically. John had figured you liked cockwarming him, the fact nothing hard to figure when you always pulled out the process of him slipping out of you as you caught your breaths in the aftermatch of whatever session had your body trembling and his clutching yours to anchor himself. But those times often happened after, not before.

"We're not fucking", you point at him.

"Keep still, and we won't". He chuckles at your muttered 'insufferable' as you rise to your knees.

John helps you as much as he can, stabilising you with his un-injured arm as you tug down the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers digging into the fabric of his underwear, feeling the hotness of his still not-fully erect member. He sighs as you pump his cock to bring him to full erection before pulling his length out, rubbing the tip against the fabric covering your cunt.

A warmth, a need, you hadn't felt in the past weeks blooms in your lower stomach.

Since his injury, you and John hadn't had sex. It might only be a few weeks, but having a mostly bare-chested, burly man like him walk around the house nearly every day because it was too tricky putting on a shirt did things to you, things which you repressed in favour of not pushing anything onto John that would strain his injury. Doctors orders.

But as you pushed your underwear to the side, how easily worked up you got whispers of a repressed desire, your slit wet without any proper foreplay, not more than the mere thought of finally feeling him inside you. Even so, you softly whine as you sink down onto him, the stretch as he entered not unfamiliar in comparison to unused to.

A drawn-out exhale escapes John as your tightness slowly swallows him, his hands falling to lift your shirt and simultaneously massage your hips.

"Just like that, love", his words are drawled as blue eyes follow how you inch your way down, having to work up and done with rolls of your hips take him after this long. "Just relax. You always take it so well". His praise makes you flutter around him, making your and John's breaths catch.

With a last shift, your thighs finally touch his, his cock buried to the hilt.

"Fuckin' hell so warm". You glance up at John, having his head notched backwards, lips slightly parted. Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, making your shirt ride up enough to show your stomach before it slides down again as his hands smoothened down your body again.

"Didn't you say you would work? Hard to do that while coping a feel". Your breathy comment brings John's head forward again, his eyes partly lidded.

"Only need one arm for that". There's a gentle tug in the corner of his mouth as he angles his laptop towards him on the armrest.

While propping his uninjured arm along the armrest, scrolling on the mousepad as he returned to the reading you previously interrupted, John's unoccupied hand gripped your hip as he brought you closer. The slight shift makes him move inside you, and your eyes flutter shut. Shit, this would be much harder than you'd anticipated.

In hopes it would distract you, you lean forward, nose knocking against the column of his throat. You inhale his scent, concentrating on how the typical aroma of rich cigar smoke is vacant from his skin with the lack of smoking.

John's unoccupied hand travels to the small of your back, fingers alternating between massaging your muscles and tracing light patterns against your skin.

Shivers run up and down every part of your body, unconsciously making you shimmy as the shudders reach your shoulders. Your shifting jostles him inside you, causing you to clench reactionary. John's chest heaves, indicating he definitely felt how you squeezed around him.

But he didn't say anything, not verbally, at least. He simply grabs a fistful of your asscheek until flesh spilt between his fingers. The silent scold forces you to resist rocking in his lap, only releasing a quiet whimper, burying your face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

You inhale to steady your breath.

The shower John took in the morning made his body wash more prominent. But he still smells of a certain alluring warmth, a musk simply describable as him, the one making you nuzzle against his bare upper body. You don't know whether to curse or hail him for not wearing a shirt nowadays, his nude chest distracting you somewhat from the delicious stretch and fullness of finally having him inside you. Until you knew it definitely did not help you.

As the hair dusted over his pectorals tickled against your lower chin and his beard against the upper part of your forehead, you ran your hands up and down his abdomen and chest.

Feeling the thick cords of muscle beneath a layer of fat that made him so deliciously big and broad clench beneath your fingers acts like a lighter to gasoline. Mental images of seeing those muscles work as he pumps himself into you fill your head.

You don't even notice how your hips begin to roll until a heavy hand clutches your side, swiftly preventing the motion.

"Be a good girl, hm?" You glance up at John, but he hasn't even angled his head to face you. His blue eyes simply remain fixed on the computer screen. Even so, you feel how the muscles in his neck flex, and a soundless chuckle shakes his chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, face falling to hide against his neck again, but your attempt to remain calm has already failed as your mind supplies nothing but the filthiest scenes behind your eyelids. Grunting. Pistoning hips. Flesh grasped tightly.

You force an exhale, refraining from moving with any and all willpower in your fibres as you feel his girth throb inside you. You need a distraction. You need to distract yourself from thinking about how his cock fills you so well.

You start to mouth at his skin, light presses of your lips along his collarbone, trailing only far enough to his shoulder that you didn't aggravate his injury. When you once again reach where his clavicle met his sternum, you begin trailing kisses up his neck. You hum in delight, nuzzling against John's jawline, his beard tickling the tip of your nose. You felt him sigh, his chest pressing against yours before he exhaled through his nose.

God, you pliantly move with him as he shifts in his seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position by sliding down somewhat. But you can't help but momentarily dig your fingers into his abdomen as the slight stir pushes his hips against yours, forcing him deeper inside you. The sting of your nails makes his hips jump more erratically than when he'd shuffled just seconds earlier, and you can't stop a moan as you press yourself down into his lap. The only thought left in your mind is that you desperately need to move. Now.

Rocking your hips, you gave a quivering sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his blunt tip hitting something so sensitive.

"Love", John's voice is even, hinting at nothing more than attempting to earn your attention. However, how his hand travelled from around your waist to your ass, angling your hips roughly in an arch so you were pressed, forced stationary, against his chest, spoke of something else.

When you emerge from his neck, with hands planted on his chest, his blue eyes lock with yours, and how he tilts his head causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"Said to sit still, didn't I?" A soft whine leaves your mouth, lower lip jutting out. "Only going to keep me warm, eh?" He tuts amusingly.

You huff as you catch the amusement in his voice. "You seem to like it".

"Not 'bout likin' it love, but seein' how strong that resolve of yours is", he hums, taunting words brushing over your lips

You could bare your teeth at that response, like a cat hissing at someone, even if they were petting them because they came close. John's cock was literally throbbing inside you, his hips shifting to get more comfortable, only to rock himself deeper into you, demanding, mocking you to do something about your predicament.

As if feeling your body tense, your frustration growing, the menace of a man you're perched upon decides to stoke the fire by giving you a small kiss on your lips.

"Not fair", you hiss against John. This time, his chuckle is audible.

"No one said anything about fair". You send him a deadpan look, but he only chuckles deeply again. "Now relax again, love". His hand pushes against the back of your head, bringing you to rest it against him. You don't fight him, hooking your chin near the juncture of his neck, staring at the bookshelf opposite you.

You knew you'd given a false promise when you said this wouldn't lead to anything. Called your own lie and his with your initial scepticism. But now you're too far gone, too horny after nearly a month of not properly feeling him; you let out a shuddering, displeased moan as you purposefully squirm.

Your constant shifts were too small to bring any real pleasure, erratic enough they would be written off as shifts to get comfortable if it wasn't for how you and John knew it definitely wasn't.

You could already feel your juices dripping, coating your inner thighs and his crotch, probably soaking his trousers. The lewd picture makes your pussy throb around his length again, and you quietly mewl, brows furrowing in frustration as you glare straight forward.

As if to make matters worse, your clit caught perfectly on the rolled-together line of your underwear that pressed into you at the angle John kept you from sinking deeper onto him. The realisation is like a doomsday announcement, as now it's impossible not to notice how your bundle of nerves is throbbing.

The ache is unbearable, especially as pleasure is within sight, the planes of John's lower stomach pressed right against your mound. With such temptation just a breath away, you wriggle your hips, stuttering a breath when pleasure rushes through your abdomen.

You start with small movements, yet more calculated than before. But soon, your squirming evolves into grinds that never fully make you sit back on John's lap.

You reckon that's why he doesn't stop your movements. But what catches you, pleasantly, off-guard is when you feel a slight push of his hand against your backside.

John lazily guides your hips a few times but stops suddenly as if catching himself of what he's doing when his concentration slips from his reading.

He chastises you with a soft pinch to the skin of your hips, and you know what's coming when he grabs the nape of your neck.

"Thought you said no fuckin'?". He directs your head in front of his. John's eyes have darkened, the good kind, his chest heaving more with each breath.

"I'm a big fat liar. That's what you want to hear?" You're quick to reply, the amusement rising in his blue eyes evident as he rolls his lips between his teeth with a content quirk in their corners before he answers.

"Always a delight when you admit you're wrong".

"Yeah, yeah", you roll your eyes, heat licking up your limbs and spine until pooling in the pit of your stomach. You attempt to quell it by mimicking the same move you'd previously done, but don't get far before John's strong hand anchors you squarely in his lap. The sweet pleasure of him filling you to the brim is momentary as the action keeps you there, fixed.

"Never said I would fuck you. I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement". John Price may be a humble man, but sometimes his cockiness soared when having you at his mercy.

"Piss off".

"Goin' to remain right here", he flashed you a devilish smile before returning to work.

His blatant disregard makes your mouth fall open as you stare at him.

You know John saw your reaction from the corner of his eyes, but he was adamant about not acknowledging you. You clench your jaw, sending him a nasty look.

If that's how he wants to play.

With the single coherent thought that you would get your release, no longer desiring to play into the torture John was putting you through, you decide to make him cave right along with you.

With one hand stabilising yourself on his chest, your other hand slide down beneath your sweater. Your mouth falls open when your fingers brush your clit, faintly feeling how he stretches you open, unabashed moan clawing up your throat and out of your mouth.

Oh, you saw the twitch of his head and felt his fingers dig into your waist. You knew how much he desired to look at you but remained stubborn enough not to indulge himself.

What must be a delirious-looking smile spread on your face as your mouth remains open, releasing all the soft breaths and whiney moans you'd muffled earlier. He's still keeping a steely grip on your lower half, keeping you from rocking your hips, but you make do with what he can't control.

You bend forward at the waist, head falling alongside his until you face his throat.

Whereas your previous kisses had been light, worshipping, now they were shy of foul. You don't leave more than a few open-mouthed kisses along his neck as a heads-up before you trace your tongue over the same spots you journey.

You never stop the slow circles over your clit, your heavy breaths fanning over the wet trail you paint against his skin. And with your pleasured sounds so close to his ear, your lips marking him up without abandon as no one but you will be able to see the light marks, a deep groan fills the air.

Silencing your satisfaction that you're slowly tearing his resolve, you release a low whine straight into his ear instead. "John-".

His facade cracks again, head tilting backwards, and you know he's fighting demons to not give in to your pleasure. But you show him no remorse, chuckling breathlessly over the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe.

Laving over the sweet little spot on his neck, right at the angle where his beard fades and beneath his ear, another grunt fills the air as his other hand abandons the computer and shifts to grab you.

With both of his hands now on your hips, you take your unoccupied hand and drag it down his chest, the wiry hair tickling you as your nails catch his nipple. You paw at his chest as you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering, "Going fill me up, John?"

"Jesus-". His gravelly voice, how he gropes and grabs at your soft love handles, hints at the restrained pleasure leaking through the cracks you're creating. It eggs you on, quickening the fingers rubbing your clit as you try to see if he'll let you rock your hips.

Although he clutches your flesh when you start to roll your hips over his thick cock, he doesn't stop you, hands remaining dormant on your ass. And, since you don't get any resistance from John this time, you don't stop.

You flutter around him, your peak moving a lot closer when you sit straight, looking down at the man who showers you with his attention as you rise on your knees in tandem with the rocking of your hips. And that seems to break the last straw of his willpower.

You thank the heavens when he hastily moves to close his laptop and slides it a bit too aimlessly into the armchair beside the one you're occupying. The amusement in his eyes quickly faded to offer more place for surging arousal.

His uninjured arm rises to settle his hand at the back of your head, tugging you into a kiss as his other hand paces itself as he lowers it, swatting away your hand to overtake the onslaught on your bundle of nerves. As his thumbs find and rub firm circles onto your clit, you moan into his mouth.

John leans away to look at you, watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face tells you he has no desire to drag out your or his pleasure any longer.

He starts moving his hips, meeting each of your falls into his lap, pressing him deeper into you than what you'd managed on your own. John sounded fucking heavenly as a fucked up into you, groans and grunts slipping past his teeth, even if he let you do most of the work, taking it easy with his shoulder.

"Fuckin' hell, that's my girl". He jerks inside you upon picking up the wet sounds squelching each time the back of your thighs meet his. "Takin' my cock so well after all this time, s'good for me, fuck- missed you havin' you around me". John's head drops backwards just as his hand falls to give your hips a firm squeeze, helping you guide your hips. You whine, clenching around him, slumping against him even if your hands get trapped between your chests.

He feels so good inside you, girthy length stretching you so deliciously, every ridge and vein rubbing against your walls. You pant against his skin, teeth closing on the tendons in his neck, not biting, but the pleasure just feels so good that you barely know what to do with yourself.

"Feisty today, eh?" John's jab is breathless, rasped from the back of his throat. "Hm, get so needy when you don't get my cock".

"John- fuck", your eyes squeeze tightly shut as your sensitivity is upped, orgasm nearing, the digit playing with your clit making you keen. "Feels so good, you feel so good... shit, missed this", you blabber. He groans at your admission, planting his heels more firmly to get more power behind his thrusts.

An involuntary squeak leaves you as the added force makes you slide forward a bit, your arm swinging around his neck on his uninjured side. It's nowhere near as fierce as John otherwise can shove himself deep inside of you, but after this long, he doesn't need to.

One final thrust sends you over the edge, body quivering, thighs squeezing his waist. Your moan breaks into heaving breaths, hips stilling in their up-and-down movement. John's not far behind, manually grinding your hips back and forth before he rolls his hips upwards, praises falling in groans from his lips as he spills inside you.

"Best believe you're not going back to working after this", you sigh into John's neck, having caught your breath just as he slackens beneath you.

He gives you a shakey laugh yet to level his own breathing. "No thought 'bout it", his voice is throaty as his arms curl around your waist.

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Breakfast

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Ellie's in your house again

"Ellie," You say," What are you doing?"

She swears, jumping out of her skin and dropping the frying pan to the ground. "Jesus Christ," She gasps in her stupid accent," What are you doing here, kiddo?"

"This is my house," You reply," What are you doing here?"

Ellie's your Mamma's new girlfriend. Before her was Beth when you lived in England and now that you're in France, it's Ellie. You don't really know how you feel about Ellie just yet.

She makes Mamma happy, that's true, but she's in your house too often for your liking and the sting of Mamma's breakup with Beth is still a little too fresh in your mind.

"I slept round," Ellie says, bending to pick up the dropped frying pan and place it on the stove," And now I'm making breakfast."

You stare at her in suspicion before nodding. "Cool," You say," I'm going to see Mamma."

Ellie catches your arm before you can leave and you frown at her.

"Daan's still asleep," She says," Don't wake her up, kid."

Mamma always tells you not to do exactly what other people say without getting something out of it yourself so you cross your arms over your chest.

"What do I get if I don't?"

Ellie groans and you pull your arm away and take a firm step towards Mamma's closed door.

"Hey! No, wait! Wait! I'll...er...You like pancakes? I can make you pancakes."

You think about it for a minute.

"With syrup?"

"With syrup."

"Okay."

You hopped up onto one of the seats at the kitchen island and waited, just staring.

It was clear that Ellie didn't really know what to do with you. She had never really interacted with you on her own. You were Daan's kid and she was Daan's new girlfriend. It was only right that you seemed a little aloof around her.

You were older now than Ellie knew you were when you had interacted with Daan's previous girlfriends. You had your own opinions now and, clearly, one of these opinions was that you didn't really enjoy this veritable stranger in your house.

"Is it hot all the time in Australia?" You ask suddenly.

Ellie begins to mix her batter. "No, not always. It gets cold in the winter like everywhere else."

You made a noncommittal noise and reached out for some of the fruit in the fruit bowl. "Did you have a girlfriend before my Mamma?"

"I did."

"But Mamma's better." It wasn't a question and you bite into your apple as you kick your legs in boredom, sparing a look back at Mamma's closed door.

"Er...yeah," Ellie replies, finally putting the first of her batter into the pan," I guess you can put it like that. Me and your Mamma just fit better."

"Mamma and Beth used to fit," You say," Before we left and they argued. I'm not Beth's baby so they can't share me like my friends who have divorced parents get shared."

Ellie doesn't quite know how to respond to that as she plates up a pile of pancakes for you and a pile of pancakes for Daan.

"Mamma and Beth argued and argued and I never got to see them because they didn't like letting me see them angry. People who used to fit don't always end up fitting properly."

"I-I'm not trying to take Daan from you," Ellie says eventually. She's not looking at you but she's stopped plating up food to talk. "Look, kiddo, I'm dating your Mamma. And I don't plan on breaking up anytime soon." She turns around to look at you. "I understand that this is new to you and you're probably still a little hung up about Mead but I'm not going anywhere and neither of you. Can we just coexist?"

You stare at her for a moment before standing. You're not very tall for your age but it doesn't stop you from walking like your Ellie's height, sidling up next to her and scraping the pancakes meant for Daan onto your plate.

"Mamma doesn't like pancakes for breakfast," You tell Ellie," She has gross yoghurt and oats and some cut-up fruit." You reach for the squeezy bottle of syrup. "It's in the fridge."

Ellie looks at you in disbelief. You've somehow smuggled all of the pancakes onto your plate even though it was meant to be split between you and Daan.

"She likes the chocolate protein shake better than the mango one!" You also repeat before scampering off to wait by Daan's door.

You don't enter without Ellie but once she opens the door, you've bolted over to Daan.

"I was nice," You announce to your Mamma, who sits up in bed wide awake and looking like she had been for a while now," Promise."

Ellie slides back into bed on your other side, forcing you in the middle of them as she passes Daan her breakfast bowl. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to catch y/n watching you from the hallway," Daan replies," And long enough to send her in to bond with you."

"Didn't bond," You insist through a mouthful of food," Just talked."

Daan smiles fondly at you, collecting some of the syrup from your plate with a finger and sticking it into her mouth. "Of course," She says," Because you're too cool to bond with your Mamma's new girlfriend."

You shrug but then quietly admit," Ellie made me pancakes. I guess she's kind of cool sometimes."

For some reason, that makes Ellie feel more proud and triumphant than any Champion's League medal ever could. She feels smug which Daan definitely spots from the way that she rolls her eyes.

"Cool enough to join us at the park today?"

You begrudgingly sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

#woso x reader #ellie carpenter x reader #ellie carpenter #danielle van de donk x reader #danielle van de donk #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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marvelsswansong · 2 years

Text

bad for business

summary: Steve's got a lot on his plate - managing his house whilst his parents are out of town, work shifts in Family Video, babysitting six teens. If only his love for you didn't get in the way: you're good for his heart but bad for business.

tags: Steve x fem!reader, tooth rotting fluff, whipped n lovesick bf Steve, exasperated Robin & sassy kids, Steve's parents being toxic, humor, slightly suggestive, Sabrina song fic again

☆ word count: 5.3K+ ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Steve still remembered the stern look on his father's aged face, frown lines carving into the old man's dimples as he cautiously dangled the set of keys from his left hand.

"Are you sure that you'll be able to manage everything whilst we're gone?"

There was a hint of doubt laced into his question, a shadow of disapproval and distrust barely masked by his neutral expression. Not that it affected Steve much - he was used to his father's sly comments at this point, the casual passive aggressiveness, the layering of seemingly innocent questions with sour tones.

So Steve simply smiled and rolled his shoulders forward, his fingers meeting his father's wrinkled ones as the house keys were exchanged by the front porch of the house. The car was already running, toxic gas fumes billowing into the air, stacks of suitcases crammed into the backseat.

"Yes, dad. I promise to be diligent."

His father only narrowed his eyes at that, licking his chapped lips as he eyed Steve up and down.

"Well, I suppose it shouldn't be too difficult for you to manage. It isn't as if you're pressed for time: considering you're a twentysomething with a job at a video store and no future plans for higher education."

The insult stung, bitter taste filling Steve's mouth, but he'd be damned if he let it show how his father's cruelty affected him. So his lips only ever so flicked upwards in a faux smile, sick sweetness dripping from his tone.

"Of course. I hope you and mom have a great time in San Francisco."

Steve's mother was kinder upon departure - albeit, only so because she hurriedly left with a swift kiss to his cheek and a stern reminder that she'd left a list on the fridge on all he'd have to do whilst they were gone. It was clear that neither of his parents truly trusted him to take care of the house, which annoyed him to no end, but he swallowed all his protests and waved his parents goodbye as the maroon Ford swerved out of the driveway.

The list of things to keep on top of, as scribbled down by his mother in frantic pencil marks, now remained practically untouched by his fridge. The first morning after his parents had gone, he'd briefly skimmed over the list and began to sort through the tasks in his mind - the laundry, collecting the mail, dusting his parents' room, opening the windows in the basement to allow for air to circulate... And he was determined on being responsible and sticking by it to a tee-

And then you'd called.

Giggly and drunk, calling him from a random phone booth outside a downtown bar, voice low and sweet as you rambled on about how much you missed him. Steve was dashing out of his house in an instant at that, not even bothering to take the time to turn off all the lights or properly lock his front door, and he spent the rest of the night doting after you - bringing you glasses of water, pressing light kisses onto your forehead, devouring one VHS tape after another on the couch with your sleepy body enveloping his.

'I'll get to the list of things tomorrow.' he reasoned then, fingers gently running up and down the curve of your waist as you slept peacefully against his chest. The disapproving stares and condescending comments of his parents disappeared further and further in his mind as he relaxed into your hold, warmth and familiar scents of vanilla and jasmine lulling him to sleep.

That was three days ago.

Steve still hasn't taken out the trash. He's yet to even drive past the post office to see if his parents had received any new packages. The laundry basket is still full and leaning hazardously against his parents' bedroom door, almost mocking him every time he passes by their room. Alas, Steve's been too busy spending every moment with you: spontaneous drives, date nights, and running errands around town with your pinkie finger interlaced with his.

Damn it.

Today's the day, Steve tells himself, fixing his curls in the bathroom mirror before taking a deep breath in. He's going to have a quick breakfast before getting started with mowing the lawn, then he'll move on to sort the laundry, then he can drive off to the post office-

"STEVIEEEE-" your melodic voice rings out from the kitchen, cutting through his frantic thoughts with ease. The warmth that blossoms in his stomach is instantaneous, as is the grin on his face at the sound of your pleading.

"Yes, angel?" he shouts back, peeking his head out the door. You step back from the kitchen counter, Steve's oversized green tie dye shirt hanging loosely and stopping at the top of your thighs. It drives him crazy: your bedhead hair, the bumblebee patterned fuzzy socks on your feet, the innocent twinkle in your eyes as you smile at him from across the room.

"Do you want bacon or sausages with your pancakes?" you ask, deep in thought.

"Either is good with me, love." Steve responds, but you only pout at that, shaking your head sideways in mock dissatisfaction.

"That's not helpful, babe! Or is it because you want both?"

"Fine, uh... sausages, I guess." he resigns and you nod, returning your attention to the sizzling pan. He takes a moment after turning off the sink tap to admire you in the sunlight - golden beams of light illuminating a halo around the crown of your head, pink lips turning glossy as you absentmindedly suck on a strawberry, soft thighs parting and crossing underneath his t-shirt.

It's a sight that makes Steve feral with desire, heart pounding so fast he thinks it'll burst out of his chest. It's a sight that he'd give anything to wake up to, all other consequences be damned.

And Steve's plans for a quick breakfast all but fly out the window the moment you sit him down onto the kitchen counter and insist on him keeping you company through the "most important meal of the day." The excuse of really having to get to the list of tasks left by his parents is sitting on the tip of his tongue, but his mind blanks white at your glittery smile and your soft fingers tracing random patterns onto his shaky hands, legs thrown over his lap.

"Just fifteen minutes, please?" you bat your eyelashes at him too, and he's a goner.

"Of course, baby."

Breakfast drags on for at least an hour - what with Steve wanting to feed you spoonfuls of sweet honeyed pancakes and grapes, your legs kicking forward in delight, and the various kisses he can't help himself to leave along your skin. Head burrowed in to the dip of your neck leading down to the valley of your breasts, one arm tightly wrapped around your waist to secure you in his lap, time just slips away from him easily.

Once the plates are empty and the dishwasher's been filled, Steve forces himself (pulling away from your embrace with significant difficulty) to get on with his tasks. He gets an hour or two at best before you flip the rest of his day upside down, finding him hunched over the washing machine. Face scrunched up in frustration and bottom lip protruding as he intently focuses, Steve's throat then runs dry the moment he looks up and sees that you've changed into his favorite dress. Mint green with light puffy sleeves, a dress with cotton fabric which hugs your figure perfectly.

"It's so nice outside and you want to stay home and do the laundry?" you whine, jumping up and down on the balls of your feet. He's still caught off guard as you trail towards him, mischievous smile on your lips as you tug at his sleeves.

"We should go out, Stevie. I heard Lover's Lake is real romantic this time of the year, and we have enough left overs from last night to have a picnic."

There's still so many things to do - he's only manage to cross off two tasks out of a total of twenty, and his parents are coming back tomorrow morning.

But all he can focus on right now is how breathtaking you look in that dress, the silver butterfly necklace hanging loosely from your neck when you lean over and brush your thumbs against his face, smoothing over his cheeks. The dirty clothes are quickly dropped back into the laundry basket as he caves, hurrying to help you pack a picnic basket and then rushing to open the front door of his BMW for you.

Turns out, you sneak a bit of cherry wine into the mix, making him tipsy off of the sweet alcholic beverage mingling in his mouth, whilst he's simultaneously getting drunk off of your giggles at all his dirty jokes. He stops drinking before he gets fully drunk, of course, but the pleasant buzz in his mind continues as you straddle him, equally as tipsy as him.

"I love you so much, Steve." you mumble into his skin, arms wrapping around his neck, lazy smile painting your face. Steve swears he can feel his brain melt at that admission, stomach so full with love and fingertips buzzing with electricity, it hurts to look straight at you due to the sunlight but he still does so with a goofy grin.

"I love you even more, baby."

The last night before his parents' return is then spent not on catching up on the rest of his duties, but lost to cuddling sessions on the couch as a boring rom-com drones on in the background. His hands can't help but trace your figure teasingly, thumbs dipping underneath your shorts, the gesture tickling against your skin as you giggle and bat at his chest.

"Stop, Stevie." you joke, making Steve look up from where he's pressing kisses down onto your exposed shoulders.

"Not a chance, love. I'm addicted to you." he groans, shifting to sit you up right against his chest. You raise your eyebrows at that.

"Addicted? What am I, a drug?" you tease.

"Even worse." he mumbles, coarse lips ghosting alongside your jaw. "You're all I think about and can ever think about."

A harsh sound - the house telephone perched on the opposite wall ringing - fills the living room and you quirk your head sideways, amused at how Steve doesn't seem phased at all.

"Don't you wanna get that? It might be your parents, after all."

He's not even listening to you, head drawn downwards, fingers gripping at your waist with a lustful smile to match. His irises are glazed over, chest heavy with infatuation - the air feels sickly sweet and heavy to him, intoxicated to be in your presence.

"Let it ring." he insists. He flips you underneath him in an instant, the laugh bubbling from your throat quickly morphing into a moan when his kisses begin to get more aggressive.

"I'm more focused on... something else, if you get what I mean." he lowly teases, starting to tug your shirt over your neck.

Steve wakes the next morning, startled and disoriented, to the sound of his parents' car pulling back into the driveway, accompanied by the yelling of his father to come downstairs. His sleepy mind is still stuck in the crevices of his dreamlike state - your warm legs entangled with his, head resting against his chest as he pulls your scantily clad body closer to him - as he begrudgingly forces himself to sit upright, pulling a shirt over his naked torso.

He looks back at you one last time, still sleeping and head peacefully resting against his pillows, before walking downstairs to meet his parents' fury.

"Did you manage to get the tasks done?" his father fusses, examining the living room with a critical eye. His father is clearly unhappy with the mess you two have left: the blanket draped over the two of you from last night still messily strewn over the sofa, paper plates stained with pizza grease peeking out from the trash can, your borrowed shirt still on the floor (which Steve is quick to pick back up with a reddened face).

"I uh... sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I meant to." Steve starts off slowly, before his eyes fall back onto the shirt in his hands and a smile appears on his face instinctively. "Then I got distracted."

-------------------------------------

Steve's work hours are from nine to six, with a late start on Fridays from ten to seven. He doesn't mind working at Family Video, he might even say he actually likes it - Robin's great company (he can't complain about having his co-worker also be his best friend) and the constant rotation of new media and customers keeps him on his toes.

Steve's always been a diligent worker too. Rises at eight, has breakfast, brushes his teeth, swings his bag over his shoulder and makes the drive across town to get to work precisely on time. His track record is precise, he gets along with all the customers, he doesn't cause too many issues for either Robin or their boss.

That was at least the case, until he fell in love with you.

Steve tries to resist you come every Sunday - he knows he has a full week of work ahead and that if he goes to bed any time later than 11, he'll be yawning and stumbling around like a zombie from the fatigue. But you're dangerous when you call him up at night, voice dripping with honey and maple sugar, he can practically visualize you with your legs hanging in the air as you dangle off of the edge of your bed.

"I'm bored, Stevie." you sigh into the phone.

Clutching the phone receiver closer to his ear, Steve only smirks at that, imagining your cute face scrunch up in annoyance as you complain about your Sunday night boredom.

"I'm sorry to hear that, angel, but I really should go to bed early." he gently coaxes you, but you only huff on the other line. The sound of fabric shifting underneath your figure rings out as you readjust your posture on your bed.

"I know, just... I miss you, it's all."

"Aw baby I miss you too." he coos, wishing he could be by your side right now. "Why don't you ask Nancy to come over? She's taking tomorrow off, I heard."

He hears you rustling through your belongings in the background before you respond, this time with a chirpier voice.

"Oh actually, it's fine! I remember Eddie saying we could hang out tonight if I wanted to."

Jealousy pricks at Steve's heart at an instant, needles poking against his skin, fiery liquid burning his veins.

"Eddie said that?" he chokes out. You don't seem to pick up on your boyfriend's shift in demeanor at the end of the line, only nodding and curling the phone chord between your upper fingers.

"Yeah, and I haven't seen him in a bit so maybe I could call him up. I still have the brownie batter from last weekend in the fridge so it'll be fun-"

Steve's vision flashes red at that - baking sessions are to be solely shared between you and him, he thinks. And the thought of Eddie Munson putting his hands on you (platonic or not), guiding your hands on the kitchen counter and wiping away spare chocolate from your lips the way Steve always does, makes him delirious with anger and jealousy.

"I'm coming over." he announces, already beginning to grab his jacket and keys. You frown from the other side, pulling away from the phone in momentary surprise before responding.

"Are you sure? If you're working tomorrow, it's fine, I can just call Eddie-" you start, only to be cut off again.

"NOPE. I'm coming over, it's final, no need to call Eddie." Steve rushes out. "Love you, see you soon."

Before you can even try to talk him out of it he hangs up, leaving you to stare at your ringing phone with amusement. True to his word, your flustered and out of breath boyfriend is waiting for you by your doorstep in less than fifteen minutes.

"Hi there." you tease, eyeing him up and down. His tense posture - clenched jaw, squared shoulders, anxious twiddling of his fingers by his sides - melts away the moment his eyes land on you in a lacy blue nightdress and pink socks.

Fuck, you look ethereal, he notes, the pale moonlight shining down onto your hair, kissing the top of your brows and carving shadows down your jaw.

"You were jealous, weren't you?" you tease, crossing your arms across your chest. You let out a gentle laugh at his bewildered expression. "You don't have to be, baby. Eddie's just a friend, if anything, he's like the annoying brother I've never had."

"Was not jealous." Steve mumbles, not even meeting your gaze as he shuffles into your house and shrugs off his jacket by your sofa. You suppress another laugh at that, his doelike eyes drawn downwards as if he's a puppy that's been kicked.

"Okay, you weren't jealous." you sarcastically comment, leaning against the sofa. He looks up at that, defensive.

"I wasn't!" the pitch of his voice comes out too high to be persuasive, forcing him to cough and attempt to purposefully lower his voice. "I was not jealous of Eddie."

Leaning forward slowly, you press a light kiss onto his lips - he still tastes like his mint toothpaste - and wiggle your eyebrows.

"Alright, handsome. Whatever you say."

He'd fight you, he really would, but he can't find it in himself to argue with you when the alternative is to be able to hug you from behind as you bake and make you laugh. In between separating the batter and organizing the kitchen mid-mess, Steve makes sure to sneak in a few photographs with his polaroid.

"I swear you're obsessed with that thing." you comment, pointing your wooden spoon at the polaroid sitting in Steve's palms. "Ever since I've gotten you that camera for your birthday, you haven't ever put it down."

Steve just hums at that, sly smile on his lips as he snaps another picture of you leaning over the open oven, the bright flash blinding you momentarily. When the photo pops out, Steve's fingers curl around the edges to shake it back and forth, before he examines the developing photograph with a wide smirk.

"What can I say, I just want to capture your beauty the best I can."

He jokes that he's coming for Jonathan's job as the photographer of the group, and you playfully roll your eyes and tell him that if he's trying to compete with Jonathan, he's doing a rotten job.

"You only ever take photos of me or of us together, babe." you remind him. You're correct, of course. Steve's wallet is overflowing with crammed polaroids of you laying on the sofa, reading the newspaper, sleeping - doing the most mundane and uninteresting things. Not that he cares, if anything, he argues that you look the most stunning during those times.

In fact, you even caught him showing off photos of you to his friends, who all smile at how adorable his infatuation with you is, whilst simultaneously dreading the repeated practice. You have to admit, it does give off a bit of the "old grandfather showing off photos of his grandchildren" vibes at times.

Once the brownies have finished baking, you carefully divide them up into neat squares, making sure to package few of them separately for Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper. You beg Steve to join you by the rooftop to enjoy the rest and so he obviously obliges, exchanging caramel brownie kisses with you under the moonlight with a light blanket draped over both your laps.

"We should really get to bed." you try to reason, pulling away from his grasp, wary of his early start tomorrow. But Steve rolls his eyes at that, left hand coming to cup your chin again, pulling your lips right back against his.

"Another ten minutes."

You smile into the kiss, nodding.

"Another ten minutes."

Of course, with you, kisses are never ten minutes.

Hence why now he's doing the walk of shame into Family Video, arriving at 10.30 - a full hour and a half after his shift was supposed to start - with Robin leaning against the counter with an unimpressed expression on her face. She doesn't even need to question him at this point, considering you've walked into the store with him, smoothing over his hair with your fingers and waving at Robin as you've driven your boyfriend to work.

"Late night?" Robin smirks, noticing how you're having a bit of trouble walking. You laugh nervously as Steve blushes pink at his best friend's teasing, the dark marks decorating his neck a dead giveaway of what you two ended up doing last night.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Robin. I swear, I was trying to get him to sleep but he kept on insisting!" you say, making the brunette shake her head in response, amused grin quirking up her lips.

"You don't have to tell me twice, hun. Steve all but throws out all his responsibilities the moment you come into his peripheral."

Steve rolls his eyes, mouth open ready to defend himself, but he realizes that she kind of has a point. So he resigns to go off to the back room to change into his uniform, but not completely out of earshot from you and Robin.

"See, I was just going to call up Eddie since I knew Steve had work today morning, but Steve just hung up and showed up at my doorstep so I didn't have much of a choice." you recall, only making Robin's smirk widen as she shoots her best friend an amused look.

"Is that true, lover boy? Got jealous of Eddie Munson, the drug dealer obsessed with D&D?" she sing songs, clearly mocking him.

"Shut up." Steve grumbles out, tugging his work vest over his shoulders.

"You two together-" he points between the two of you, you leaning forward on the counter on your propped up arms and Robin standing up straight with her arms crossed, "are dangerous."

"You're just afraid that one day I'm gonna steal her. It's the least you can do to compensate me, with how many times you're coming in late these days." Robin jokes, placing an arm around your shoulder. You laugh again at that as Steve sighs, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm sorry, you can take Thursday and Friday off, how about that?" he tries to console, feeling bad for all his tardiness lately. His best friend chooses to simply hum in response, tapping her fingers against the counter in contemplation.

"I get Thursday and Friday off, and you pay for pizza night at (Y/n)'s next weekend." Robin counter-suggests.

Your boyfriend only huffs at that, flailing his arms around in frustration.

"WHAT? How is that any fair, technically my girlfriend is just as responsible for me being late as myself." he argues, gesturing to you emphatically.

"Not true, Stevie. I told you multiple times I could find someone else for the night and I also did tried to get you to sleep earlier repeatedly." you remind him, giving him a knowing glance.

"Yeah, Harrington, don't try to change the subject. It's not her fault that you're like, obsessed with her." Robin adds, poking Steve in the shoulder.

Unable to handle the teasing further, he relents, shaking his head in defeat.

"Okay, okay. Thursday and Friday off, and I'll pay for pizza night next week."

"Great! I'll see you later, yeah?" you ask, kissing Steve on the cheek. You don't get even more than a few feet away from the counter before he's pulling you backwards by your wrist, liplocking you into a harsh kiss that leaves your lips buzzing and head fuzzy.

"See you later, love."

He watches you leave with infatuation clouding his vision, head still swimming with the taste of your lips. Robin has to physically shake him awake, an exasperated look on her face.

"Come on, Harrington. You don't want to even more late to work, do you?"

-------------------------------------

Steve's never seen without you these days. The kids have gotten used to seeing you by the front seat of his BMW, grinning at them through the window as Steve is there on "pickup duty" - be that from the arcade, the library or school.

There's a light breeze passing through the park today, the summer sun far too nice to pass up a day outside. Erica and Lucas are racing each other on their bikes, Mike's engaged in a casual conversation with Will by the swing set, then you and Max are standing by the walkway with her skateboard.

You're watching intently as the redhead flawlessly hops onto the skateboard in front of you, before jumping up into the air, kicking the board up into a minor flip and landing down onto the pavement safely. Your eyes widen in awe, quickly clapping afterwards, causing the girl's cheeks to turn as red as her hair.

"You have to teach me!" you insist.

"I'm not sure if I'd be a good teacher." Max shyly responds, scratching her neck. You wave her off.

"You'd be fantastic, Max! But only if you want to teach me, of course. I'm sure if I'm learning from you I'll be a pro in no time."

Dustin is stealing another handful of grapes from the picnic basket, sneaking looks in between where you're standing and then to Steve, who has the most dorky smile on his face as he admires you from afar whilst leaning against a large willow tree.

"You're so fucking whipped for her, it's sickening." Dustin comments, causing the older boy to look down at him, black rimmed sunglasses sliding down the bridge of Steve's nose at the action.

"Staring at my girlfriend is not a crime, Henderson." he reminds the younger boy, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. Dustin only huffs at that, straightening his shirt and dusting off his shoulders.

"Sure, but you bring her everywhere with you and you lose all your common sense when she's around."

"Nuh uh, do not." Steve defends himself, sitting up straight. Dustin pokes his tongue out, teasing him.

"Uh huh, you do."

"Do not."

"You do."

"What are we arguing about, boys?" you ask, sitting back down across them, breathless smile on your face. Your wet lips part and wrap around a lemonade bottle, and Steve swears he's never seen a more angelic sight than one of you in a tank top and levi jeans, sunlight accentuating your delighted features.

"Just about how Steve brings you to like, everything, and is obsessed with you and how sickening it is." the curly haired boy slyly comments, biting into a piece of toast. You fake your smile dropping at that, looking down in faux sadness.

"Oh... Sorry, would you prefer if I stop coming to these things?"

Steve hides his amused smile at that, watching Dustin's eyes widen in alarm.

"W-what?"

You drag out your sigh, sadly trailing your finger up and down the picnic mat.

"I know that Steve used to be the only one picking you guys up or bringing you to the park... If I'm ruining all your plans with Steve, I'm happy to no longer come-"

"NO, NO, NO! Oh my god, (Y/n), that's totally not what I meant." Dustin hurriedly explains, speaking so fast that bread crumbs are falling everywhere. "We love having you around, seriously Max and Lucas will kick me in the shins if you stop showing up for these things, I was just making fun of Steve and how much he loves you, it's actually kinda sweet and I was just joking-"

You and Steve both laugh at that point, the dam breaking as you both throw your head back, causing Dustin's expression to morph into one of confusion. Pausing, you brush your hand over Dustin's curls, gently patting him on the head.

"I know, bub. I was just joking, that's all."

Dustin splutters at that, before pouting his lips forward.

"Oh, come on, that was just evil, (Y/n)." he grumbles.

"Aw, I'm sorry Dusty. But I'm always happy to show up to these things, so long as you're all happy to have me."

He looks up at you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I mean, yeah. You're cool. In fact, too cool to be dating this one." he says, pointing to Steve, who raises his eyebrows in mock offense.

"Watch it, Henderson."

Dustin runs off at the sound of Lucas and Erica calling him over, standing over their parked bikes, leaving you to stare at the gorgeous face of your boyfriend's.

"The kids all love you." he comments, his cold fingers brushing over your warm hands. "A bit too much, I think. I'm starting think you're the resident babysitter, not me."

Leaning in close, so close that he can count the individual droplets of water adorning your hair, you shake your head sideways in denial.

"Nah, I don't think that's possible." you pause for dramatic effect. "I think that'll always be Nancy."

"You little-" he starts, pretending to be burnt by your betrayal.

Giggling, you pull away, already beginning to make a run for it towards the kids when Steve all but (carefully) pummels into you, pinning you against the nearest tree. Hands tickling your waist, he steadies your body beneath his, amused grin decorating his lips.

"Apologize, babe." he commands.

"Mmm... I don't know..." you trail off, pretending to be conflicted.

"Apologize or I won't kiss you." he threatens, which only makes you chuckle.

"That's an empty threat, Stevie. We both know that if anyone's going to be more kiss deprived, it's you."

"That's true!" Erica shouts from the background, making your smile only widen.

"Damn those smart ass kids." he swears, letting you back down. You smooth a hand over his forehead and wink at him.

"Don't worry, babe. You're still the resident babysitter."

"Lovebirds!"

You perk up at the sound of Nancy's voice before running over to quickly hug your friend, leaving Jonathan to replace your absence, standing next to Steve with his right hand fiddling with his camera.

"Are we still good for tomorrow?" Jonathan questions, shooting Steve a nonchalant glance. Steve only frowns at that, mind blanking.

"Uh... what's happening tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" the dark haired boy questions, raising his eyebrows. "You volunteered to helped me with my photography assignment, you know, the one for the local newspaper? We've literally talked about this two days ago."

"Oh, right! Yeah, sorry, I just uh..." Steve fumbles for an excuse, truthfully having totally forgotten about his plans for tomorrow.

"It's (Y/n), isn't it?" Jonathan quips, cocking his head towards where you're standing. He laughs at Steve's obvious embarrassment, Steve's eyes suddenly looking away as his ears turn red. "Robin was right, you're hopeless when you're around her."

Thankfully, their conversation is cut off short by the sound of your footsteps alongside Nancy's approaching, allowing Steve to instead focus on how warm your arm feels around his waist as you bury your head into his neck. Rubbing his hands up and down your back, he glares at Nancy and Jonathan who wiggle their eyebrows from behind you, clearly teasing him.

They're all right, Steve supposes. His parents, Robin, the kids, Nancy and Jonathan - to point out that you've turned his life upside down. He's been falling behind on his house tasks, showing up late to work, and forgetting his plans with his friends.

You're going to be the death of him.

Especially with the way you're now whining against his skin, asking him oh-so-sweetly if he wants to have dinner tonight at the diner off the 45 with the good milkshakes.

Steve knows that actually, his parents want him back home by five today, but he decides then and there that they can wait. Dinners with you will always come first, to hell with whatever snarky comments his parents might throw at him afterwards.

Alas, you're good for his heart but bad for business.

a/n: I know I literally just posted another Sabrina song fic after 'tornado warnings' for Eddie like less than a week ago but I COULDN'T resist, I'm still obsesed with emails I can't send and this song is so fucking cute a fluff fic had to be written around it.

Hope y'all like this one, I know the structure was a bit unusual but I loved how it turned out personally :)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #steve harrington #1k #2k #3k

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babydollmarauders · 7 months

Text

TOLERATE IT — JOHN MARINO

john marino x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n’s love is tolerated at best, and she wonders what ever happened to her loving boyfriend

warnings: not much dialogue in the beginning?, happy or sad ending depending on the way you look at it, not proofread.

notes: i love writing angst but as a john girlie, this hurt me— but i did this to myself

the page turns, John’s fingers skimming it gently.

his head is dipped low, one leg perched on the other. he’s sat on the other end of the sofa, engrossed in his book; whereas i pay no attention to the movie that plays on the tv, rather watching him instead.

his demeanor is peaceful, and i know better than to actually disturb him. this is some of the only time he gets to relax, and i don’t want to take that away from him. so i sit quietly instead, just enjoying the rare company.

but i can’t help but wish he would actually do something with me. watch a movie, cuddle, talk, anything. instead i’m subjected to medium silence and the sound of paper flipping.

i turn the tv off, rising from the couch, and his eyes flicker up at my movement, but he dismisses it quickly, going back to his book.

“i’m going to bed.” i tell him softly, quietly yearning for him to join me, but instead he just hums in acknowledgment. “are you gonna join me?”

his eyes scan the page for a few more seconds as i stand before him, waiting for his response. finally, he looks up at me properly, shaking his head.

“no, i’m good.”

my heart sinks at his reply, but i nod, “okay.”

i spend my entire bedtime routine hoping that he’ll walk into the room. that maybe he’ll change his mind and for once, we’ll go to bed together; like we did early in our relationship. but when i climb into an empty bed and he’s still in the living room, i have to accept the fact that it’s not happening. that those days are apparently over.

i stir in my sleep, shifting under the weight of an arm draped over my waist, and for a second my heart leaps in my chest, thinking John has decided to cuddle me as i slept. but when i turn under his touch, my eyes fluttering open, i find him asleep. the spooning an unconscious movement, and as soon as it’s started, it’s already over, his arm drawing back as he moves in his slumber to lay on his back.

i settle on my side, resting my head in my hand as i watch the steady rise and fall of his chest in the darkness of the room. the silence piercing as i watch him breathe.

what ever happened to the boy who held me as we slept? the same one who comforted me when people criticized our five year age gap. the one who told me he would do anything to keep me happy.

***

my heart races in my chest as i set the dining table.

the usual plastic plates and cups being replaced for fine china and wine glasses. a singular candle is lit in the middle of the table, next to the steaming pasta that waits to be served. homemade french bread sits beside it, a dish of herb infused butter resting atop of the wood as well.

i spent all day in the kitchen, making everything from scratch. the noodles, the sauce, the bread, the butter, all done today by me. as well as John’s favorite chocolate cake, in which i got the recipe from his mother.

it’s officially our two year anniversary, and i took advantage of the fact that John had practice today and then was going to the gym. i figured a slightly early dinner and then dessert would be a good plan before i gave him his present and then hopefully we would make our way to the bedroom.

but now i sit in my seat at the table, awaiting his return. he had told me he would be home by six, but the clock on the dining room wall displays that it’s a quarter past seven and he still isn’t home.

i’ve stuck the food into the oven to keep warm at this point, but the empty chair across from me and the soft music that floats through the house taunts me.

“alexa, stop the music.” the instrumental cuts off abruptly, tears welling in my eyes at my boyfriends absence.

i’m just about ready to eat by myself and call it an early night when i hear the front door open, footsteps echoing through the house, getting closer and closer. they halt when he reaches the dining room, and i look up to find him standing in the doorway.

his brows are threaded together, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“you made dinner?” he questions, setting his bag on the ground beside him.

i perk up immediately, disappointing myself with how quickly i’m ready to move past his lateness.

“yeah.” i smile, motioning toward the empty seat. “take a seat, i’ll go grab it out of the oven! i was waiting for you to get home.”

he nods, sitting down as i scurry towards the kitchen. i bring the pasta and bread and butter out one at a time before taking my seat across from him.

i’m on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting his praise for my cooking and the setup, or even just a ‘happy anniversary, baby.’ but it never comes. we eat silently as he scrolls on his phone, and when he finishes his food, he quickly stands to dismiss himself.

“wait!” he stops at my shout, furrowing his brows at me. “i made cake.”

my eyes are soft, silently begging him to stay.

despite the fact that he evidently forgot our anniversary, i’m still eager to please him; vying for his attention and love, the best i can.

he nods, settling back down in his seat.

“dinner, cake, wine, and glass plates?” he laughs, “you were feeling fancy tonight.”

my heart shatters in my chest. even though i know he forgot the date, it still hurts to hear him speak like it’s just another day. proving even further that he doesn’t know how special today is.

“well, yeah, it’s-” i’m so close to reminding him, but then i think of how guilty he’ll feel, and i stop. “it’s just been a good day.”

i plaster a smile on my lipstick covered lips, hoping he’ll buy it; and he does. he gives me a small smile back and i excuse myself to the kitchen, taking a moment to blink back tears before i cut into the cake, setting a slice on a plate and hurrying back to him.

i place the dessert in front of him, before sitting back down, just watching him as he eats. i’m no longer in a cake mood, my appetite gone as i push my still only half eaten pasta around my plate.

“Jack said hi, by the way.” he speaks between bites and i hum.

“that’s nice, i’ll have to text him.” i acknowledge. “i talked to your mom today.”

“you did?”

“yeah, i called her for the cake recipe.” i explain. “she said to tell you to call her.”

maybe she can remind him what day it is, seeing as she remembered it as soon as i called her.

“okay, i’ll call her soon.” he tells me, finishing his last bite before he stands once more.

“anything else, or can i take a shower now?” he asks, as though i’ve inconvenienced him somehow.

“you can shower.” i wait until he’s walking away, heading down the hallway to our room before i speak again, lowly whispering. “happy anniversary.”

i know i deserve better; that my love should be celebrated. i know that i deserve someone who will remember our anniversary; maybe even someone who will get me flowers just because and who will spend time with me and appreciate my love rather than tolerate it, but i love him.

***

i sit backwards, on my knees on a chair in the living room, facing the front door. i wait eagerly, checking the time on my phone religiously.

i know John should be home soon. a week long roadie finally ending with his long awaited return.

it’s half past two in the morning, much later than i normally stay up, but i refuse to let him arrive home without a proper welcoming.

my eyes are half lidded, but excitement still courses through my veins, remembering his three goals and seven assists in this past four games.

i perk up at the sound of the front door unlocking, watching with baited breath as it creaks open. John steps through the doorway, looking exhausted, slipping his shoes off and dropping his roadie bag on the floor.

i squeal excitedly, gaining his attention as i hop off my chair and run straight into his arms.

“welcome home, Johnny!” i cheer, snaking my arms around his neck, and jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist.

he stiffens for a split-second, letting out an ‘oomph’ before his hands fly to my butt to hold my weight.

“jesus, y/n, warn a guy, would you?” he huffs out a laugh and i lean back to look at his face, expecting a smile but all i see is a blank expression and tired eyes.

i give a sad smile, unwrapping my legs and letting my body slide down his.

suddenly, i feel incredibly insecure, my happy mood diminishing and quickly being replaced by regret.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” i breathe out, backing away. “i guess i was overly excited.”

i turn quickly in order to keep him from seeing my now glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill as i retreat down the hall to our bedroom.

i don’t expect for him to accompany me, but suddenly i can hear his footsteps behind me, slowly following.

“what was that?” he questions as we reach the bedroom.

i can feel myself reaching my boiling point, choosing to ignore his words as i walk into the en-suite bathroom. i turn the shower water on, but he follows me into the bathroom too.

“y/n.”

y/n. not ‘babe’ or ‘love’. just y/n.

i swallow the lump in my throat before i turn to face him.

“aren’t you gonna go to bed?” i ask in attempt to avoid his question. “you seem tired.”

“aren’t you?” he raises a brow, and i shake my head.

i jab my thumb towards the shower behind me, “i’m gonna shower first.”

“i see that.” he huffs. “what was that? you just walked away from me.”

i sigh, knowing what’s finally coming, and turn to shut off the shower water before facing him again.

“doesn’t feel good, does it?” i walk around him, back into the bedroom, but he’s hot on my heels.

“what?” his hand grips my wrist, spinning me back around to look at him. “what are you talking about?”

“look, if this is all in my head, tell me now.” i start, only confusing him further by the looks of his expression. “but, you don’t love me anymore.”

tell me i’ve got it wrong.

he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before he opens them again. “what are you even saying? i’m dating you, aren’t i?”

“are you?” i laugh bitterly, taking a couple steps backwards. “or are you tolerating me?”

“y/n,” he sighs, shaking his head. “you’re tired. and i must’ve upset you somehow, but you’re not making any sense.”

“you don’t appreciate me!” i shout, my hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“i cooked a nice dinner for our anniversary and you were late and forgot the date! and while you’re off playing hockey and winning games, where am i? here! i sit here and polish plates until they gleam and glisten. i clean the house and sit and wait for your return, and then when you do get home, you don’t even seem happy to see me! at all!”

John blinks in surprise at my outburst, his lips parting to speak, but i cut him off before he can get a word out.

“i made you my everything and you don’t even seem to care! i’ve been begging for you to love me again but i’m done! what happened to the man that assured me that my past relationships didn’t define me? the you that actually spent time with me?”

my chest heaves as i regain my breath, watching his expression change from confusion to defensiveness.

“i spend time with you!” he huffs and i roll my eyes.

“no, you sit and you read or you watch games or you do something by yourself on the other side of the couch.” i clarify dejectedly, nearly ready to give up. “you don’t do things with me. and if i try, you wave me off.”

“i just- i don’t understand where this is coming from.” he tells me, and i slump on the end of the bed, furiously wiping away tears that have begun to fall.

“that’s just it. you assume i’m fine with this, because i’ve let it go on for too long. i’ve sat here, and i’ve painted you in the best colors, and i’ve put you on this pedestal. i told myself that if i just did more- if i just did anything you could ever hope for- then we would be fine. that eventually you’ll love me again and you’ll treat me how you used to and we would be happy. but instead i watch you live your life and i’m delegated to the sidelines, begging to be even a minor part of your life. you tolerate me living with you. you tolerate my existence. and you tolerate my love.

“but i’m done. i can’t do it anymore.” my face falls in my hands, sobs wracking my chest.

i’ve finally given up.

John is quiet, but i can hear his feet padding against the floor for a moment, moving farther away before he comes back.

his fingers spread across my thigh, and when i drag my hands away from my face, opening my eyes to look at him, he’s kneeled on the floor in front of me.

“i’m sorry that you feel i don’t love you anymore. i never meant to make you feel like you’re just tolerated in my life. but i promise you, i see you. i do appreciate everything you do for me, and the love that you give me.”

his hand leaves my skin, fumbling with something in his grasp before holding it up.

my heart skips a beat, those butterflies returning in my stomach as my lips part in surprise. my eyes lock in on the diamond ring that sits in the little black velvet box in his hands.

“i promise, you’re not just going tolerated. i love you, and i want you in my life forever.” my gaze flickers up to his face, and i already begin nodding my head. “will you marry me?”

i nod even faster, an excited grin spreading over my lips, and he smiles softly, removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto my outstretched finger.

i admire it for a second, appreciating how right it looks to have a ring on my finger.

this is it.

this is what i did it all for.

what i’ve waited my whole life for.

my hands cup his face, pulling him in to press my lips to his.

“i love you.” i whisper, my lips still burning for his, and in response, he pulls me in for another kiss.

when we finally part, we begin to get ready for bed, effectively ignoring the outburst i just had. and once we climb into bed, i kiss him once more, melting into his touch like i used to.

“i’m sorry, you must be tired. i took up so much of your time tonight, you could’ve been asleep by now.” i mumble, listening to his heartbeat under the weight of my head.

“it’s okay. don’t apologize.” his fingers run through my hair and he turns off his bedside lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. “i love you.”

i fully plan on responding, but amongst the comfort, my eyes have already turned heavy, and speaking feels like too much work. my breathing evens out as i bask in the closeness of this moment.

i love him.

#john marino #john marino x reader #john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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imagines--galore · 1 year

Note

resquest? as teenagers, peter parker and reader agree to marry if neither have by their 30th birthday.

follow peter as he attempts to sabotage every relationship reader has till then.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Fluff. None. A/N: I live for jealous Peter Parker :3 Also Anon didn't specify which Peter Parker so I kinda went with the MCU one! Hope thats alright!!!

Since the beginning of college you and Peter had just clicked. You had been drawn towards his slightly quirky persona. Honestly, when you had met him, you thought he looked like someone had kicked his puppy.

Though when he told you the real reason behind his external aura, loosing his mentor, his aunt dying, your heart went out to him. And later when you discovered he was Spiderman and learned how a spell had caused the world to forget who he was, you were surprised he hadn't shut himself away in a dark room and wallowed in self-pity.

That's what you would've done.

Yet, despite the loss, he wanted to go on with his life, and save people as well. And that only made you admire him more. So you attached yourself to Peter. At every turn, you made it your goal to make him smile or laugh whenever you had the chance. Slowly, very slowly, he seemed to be coming out of his bubble. At least he smiled more, and you made sure he ate and slept properly. And since the both of you shared a lot of classes together, you would help him with his work when he had to go off and be Spiderman.

The pact you two made, had been a result of a date that had stood you up saying he had a test to study for, only for you to catch him, moments later, sucking faces with another girl. You had only been dating for a month or so, but still it did hurt.

Besides you always looked for a reason to get yourself and Peter a little tipsy. You would mostly stay inside your rooms, and just get into drunken shenanigans that neither of you could remember the next day. It had only happened twice now, neither of you were alcoholics.

At the time of the pact, the two of you were only slightly drunk, smiling dopely at one another, and giggling at even the smallest thing.

Your words took him by surprise as you looked at one another. You held out your hand so you two could shake on it, but he shook his head.

"Nope, this requires proof." He warbled, getting to his feet as he went in search of his phone. He almost tripped en route, over his own feet. God, you were both such lightweights.

Once he got his phone, which you later realized was actually yours, he began to record. The camera was shaky and unsteady as he pointed it at you. You sat up, putting on your most serious face. Or as serious as you could get given your tipsy state.

"I, Y/n Y/l/n, promise to marry Peter Parker, if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty."

Once done, Peter turned the camera and raised a hand in the air as if he were swearing an oath.

"I, Peter Parker, promise to marry Y/n Y/l/n, if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty."

————————–

That was nearly five years ago, and now, having graduated college and already in the second year of your job, you watched the video with a nostalgic smile playing across your lips.

The two of you looked so young, then again at 18 years of age you definitely were. And the pact. Such an adorable thing to do when you were both sure neither of you would end up with anyone.

Though, that was still the case, given how you were still single as was Peter.

Once you graduated college, the two of you had decided it would be better to move in together. It was a good decision economically, and also because neither of you wanted to meet new people and open your respective can of worms.

Peter had no desire to share his secret with anyone else, and you had readily agreed to his suggestion on moving in. Though your motive had been slightly selfish, given the knowledge of anyone else knowing about Peter being Spiderman caused a little green monster to rear it's ugly head in your heart.

As you waited for Peter to get back home, you couldn't help but wander why none of your college relationships had worked out. And neither had Peter's for that matter.

Your mind drifted to your encounter with a coworker. You had had a few good moments where you flirted with him over a couple of weeks, and it had the potential to turn into something. But the day after you told Peter about it, you had gone to the office, only to be confronted by your would-be boyfriend.

He showed you a chain of texts, claiming you were off-limits and that you already had a boyfriend. You were confused at first, but then you recognized the number from which the messages had been sent, and you felt the color drain from your face. You had apologized to your co-worker, explaining it was your roommate's idea of a joke, but he seemed to think otherwise.

You had spent a long part of your work day simply thinking.

And now that you made an effort to think, you began to recall how every boy you had shown an interest in would suddenly start to distance themselves from you. It was college, so you figured no one wanted anything serious. But as the months went on and no boy seemed to take you seriously you had given up.

Maybe they all had someone threatening them as well?

Had Peter scared all those boys off? But why? Maybe he thought they weren't good enough for her?

Then again, the girls he had gone out with had all been wrong for him. Every last one of them. You ground your teeth as you thought about them, a frown creasing your forehead as you began to fix yourself a sandwich.

Whatever it was, you planned to confront Peter once he came back from patrol.

————————–

You had only begun to spread your favorite condiment on the piece of bread, when you heard the sound of something, or rather someone landing on the roof. Your apartment was on the top floor, so that Peter could easily enter through the skylight, which he now did, dropping into the middle of the living room in view of the adjacent kitchen.

"Sandwich?" You asked without missing a beat as he removed his mask. He gave a sound of affirmation before walking towards the fridge to grab a water bottle. Once he had chugged the entire thing, he turned his attention towards you.

"I think I may have caused a couple to get engaged today." He said, looking through the cupboards as he hunted for something to snack on. You let out a small laugh. "And how did you make that happen?" You asked, starting to make a sandwich for him as well.

"Well I was chasing this pick-pocket and I found the ring he had stolen from the guy's pocket. I took it back and handed it to him in front of his girlfriend. I mean yeah she said yes and everything, but the guy was a little disappointed. Said he had a whole thing planned." You gave a small laugh. "Yeah but think about the story they'll tell people. That Spiderman brought her ring to her. Can't top that."

Done making his sandwich, you nudged the plate towards him as you moved to sit on the small dining table. It only had two chairs since you rarely had guests over. He took the other chair, and began to eat before he had even sat down.

"Peter? Remember that co-worker I was telling you about?" You asked, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction. He paused in between his bite, before shrugging.

"Vaguely." Oh he was lying, you could tell.

"Yeah he came to me today and showed me these texts. And they said that I already have a boyfriend when I clearly don't." You set down your sandwich to look at him. He began to fidget in his seat, a telltale sign that he was nervous. "And the funny thing was they all came from a very very familiar phone number." You fixed him with a look. "And I wandered if you knew anything about that."

You weren't angry, more confused as to why Peter would do that. He stared at you, lips parted. "Y-you honestly haven't figured out why I did it?" He asked, his tone disbelieving as he too stopped eating his sandwich. You shrugged. "Its the reason I'm asking isn't it?"

Peter pursed his lips before speaking. "Its because of the same reason you don't let a girl speak more then ten words to me." You frowned. "Girls talk to you plenty Peter." You said with a roll of your eyes, leaning back against the back of your chair as you did. "And what reason? Honestly you're not making any sense."

Peter blinked. "You honestly don't know?" You shrugged again and shook your head.

A long stretch of silence followed, in which the two of you continued to stare at one another. Though Peter's gaze was much more intense then you had ever seen. And despite your best efforts, you could feel the heat of a blush creeping along your skin.

A sound of a chair scraping against the floor, followed by two determined strides which brought Peter directly in front of you. With one hand on the table, and the other tenderly holding your chin with the finger and thumb, Peter leaned down to kiss you.

Your breath hitched, your heart raced, your brain turned to mush, your eyes widened, your body stiffened and your blood ran hot.

Just as quickly as the kiss had begun it ended, with Peter leaning back and smiling at you. "That's why." With a brief brush of his thumb against your lower lip he was gone, leaving you with a racing heart, conflicting emotions and a realization.

————————–

A little while later you stood in front of his bedroom door, contemplating on whether you should knock or not.

Though that decision was lost to you once the door opened and there stood Peter. He paused at the threshold, probably not expecting you there.

The two of you were silent as you stared at one another. Suddenly you were looking at him in a new light. A light where every action every word and every gesture he had done in the past had had an underlying meaning behind it.

"Is there something there? Peter?" You asked, sounding a little unsure. He looked just as uncertain as you felt as he gave a small nod.

"There can be. If you want there to be." He added, leaving the entire decision up to you. Your heart raced and you gripped your hands. A shuddering breath fell from your lips before you closed your eyes. Gathering every ounce of strength that you had, you opened your eyes to meet his hopeful gaze.

"I do want something to be......there." His answering smile was wide and bright as he yanked you into a hug. You returned it with just as much emotion, burying your face in his neck and just inhaling his familiar scent.

"Though it might mean we'll have to honor the pact we made, since I won't ever be letting you go." You said against his skin, prompting him to laugh.

"There is no other place I'd rather be then by your side, Y/n." His words caused a pleased smile and a bright blush to stain your cheeks as you pulled back to give his chest a small smack.

"Don't go turning into a sap for me Peter."

"What? I'm not allowed to voice my undying devotion to you?"

"No! Peter just no!"

"I have defended your honor for so long, My Lady! And I shall die defending it."

"Get a grip Parker!"

"You wound me, Beloved."

"Stop it!"

He laughed as he foiled your attempt at escaping by wrapping an arm around your waist, and with a hand behind your head, he allowed your lips to align with his.

"Never!" He whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive lips. Your only reply was to close the distance left between the two of you, sealing your pact once again.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #mcu #mcu peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n

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myhaikyuuacademia · 6 months

Note

Hi, I know it’s super cliche but I was wondering if I could get a one bed friends to lovers story with Jaime Reyes?

This request made me so happy lmao. I wrote so much for it. Sorry it's late!

How could I not? | Jaime Reyes x reader (Blue Beetle 2023)

Summary: we love one bed. We love a sprinkle of accidental confession. Warning: tired Jaime is clingy. Canon. A/N: I LOVE this lmao tysm

You and Jaime hadn’t been friends for very long when all of the Kord stuff happened, but you didn’t hesitate to offer letting him and his family stay at your apartment while their house was getting fixed. They didn’t end up taking you up on that, since Jenny also offered them their own apartment and they’d rather take that then inconvenience you, but it was a little cramped in that apartment (not that it wouldn’t have been at yours). Jaime complained about it all the time. Especially about how Milagro had been relentlessly teasing and annoying him about stuff. He didn’t specify what. Anyway, that’s how you found yourself on a Sunday evening opening the door to a kinda disheveled looking Jaime. “Oh. Jaime. What’s up?” You moved to the side, letting him enter your apartment. “Ugh.” He groaned. “I haven’t slept properly in ages. Between renovations, hero stuff and my family seemingly being more overbearing than usual, especially in a space so small I can’t escape them, it just. I can’t fucking sleep.” He ranted and then ran a hand over his face and hair. You just chuckled as you closed the door and walked further into your apartment. “So you came here to escape?” You sat down on the couch and looked up at him, standing before you, hesitating for a second whether to sit down or what to do before deciding to do so. “Yeah” He breathed out. “I guess.” You hummed, understandingly. “Well, my doors are always open for you.” Turning towards the tv, you grabbed the remote from your coffee table. “Wanna watch spiderman with me?” Jaime sighed and then grinned, “sure.”

He didn’t last 5 minutes.

You glanced over at him and noticed his closed eyes and deep relaxed breaths. Hesitant, you gave him a nudge, trying to wake him up. The couch, and the way he was sitting right now especially, would give him a sore back and neck if he continued sleeping like this. “Jaime.” You whisper-shouted. Another nudge, “Jaime!”. Groggily he murmured and tried to move out of the way so he could continue his sleep in peace. “Come on Jaime, go to bed.” You tried pulling on his arm to get him to stand up, but he barely moved. Instead he pulled you down, so you landed half on top of him and he buried his head in your neck, while his arms closed around your waist holding you close. You froze and your brain simultaneously short-circuited and erupted into chaos. His breath was warm and even on your skin and his hands so soft on the little bit of exposed skin between your top and pants. He didn’t seem bothered by the position you two found yourselves in, hell, he probably didn’t even notice. You were pretty sure he was immediately and fully asleep again. Meanwhile your heart was still beating as if to escape your chest.

“Jaime.” You tried again after you’ve had a while to compose yourself. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, it’ll be more comfortable.” No success. “Khaji-Da?” Last resort. You heard groaning, and felt Jaime moving ever so slightly. “Come on now, let’s get you to bed. I promise you can continue sleeping in just a second.” Carefully, you tried slipping out of his arms, standing up and holding your hands out in front of you to help him up. With a pout on his lips he looked at you through half-lidded eyes before taking your hands with an overly dramatic movement and you pulled him up rolling your eyes, laughing. You didn’t notice the way he smiled at that. One of his hands still in yours, you led him to your bedroom. “Go. Sleep.” You lightly patted him on his back in a shoving way to get him to go to your bed. Standing in the doorway with your arms crossed you were observing if he was doing what you’re telling him to. He was well on his way when he stopped, as if a sudden thought occurred. “What about you?” He turned around. His voice was raspy, still half-asleep. Your heart was racing again, and your face felt very hot suddenly. “W…” you cleared your throat. “What about me?” “Aren’t you going to sleep?” “Oh. I’ll just sleep on the couch it’s fine. Plus, we didn’t really get that far with the movie, so I can just finish it.” He didn’t seem to like that answer, by the way his brows furrowed and his pout came back. “I’m not stealing your bed and leaving you to sleep on your couch. Especially in your own apartment.” “You need sleep more than I do. It’s fine. Really.” You tried convincing him. A feeling of an old western stare down crept up on you. Like whoever blinked first, lost. “Come on Jaime, just go back to sleep.” You plead, head slightly tilted and puppy-dog-eyes. His eyes narrowed. He was going to strike a deal. Or a compromise. “I’ll only go to sleep if you go. And I’ll only sleep in your bed if you do. Wait that came out wrong.”

“Pffff.” You burst out laughing. Ignoring how flustered his proposal made you. This man was gonna be the death of you some day. “You sure?” you asked jokingly. “Fine, go to bed. I’ll turn off the tv.” You sighed playfully defeated and turned around. Your heart was doing the racy thing again at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Jaime. You groaned annoyed as you turned off the tv and lights and went back to the bedroom. For a second, you had considered staying in the living room and hoping he’d fallen back asleep, but he was stubborn and you knew that. There was no escape. And as predicted, he was sitting in your bed waiting, watching the door for you to come back. You noticed he was only wearing a t-shirt now, his sweater and pants on the floor next to him and it reminded you that you still had to change into your pajamas. Being around Jaime really saved you a lot of money on blush. You could tell he was watching you as you made your way over to your closet. If you wanted to, you could just go to the living room to change, or the bathroom. The question is, did you want to? Not really. You felt comfortable around Jaime, and you trusted him. And it’s not like you were about to get completely naked. And honestly, he probably might just look away anyway. So you took of your pants first, to put on some shorts, and then your top, to put on a flowy shirt. All the while your back was turned to your bed. You might have heard a “shut up Khaj” from behind you but you weren’t sure. Okay, maybe in hindsight it did make you feel a bit embarrassed and flustered to change in front of him. When you turned around, Jaime was staring at the wall in front of him very intently, and with a very red face. Pressing your lips together to contain your facial expression you made your way over to the other side of the bed. “Happy now?” You asked as you sat down next to him, pulling the blanket on top of you. “uhuh.. hmm. Yeah” He was still looking straight ahead and avoiding your eyes. “Jaime.” You called out softly. This made his head turn. “Go to sleep.” You grinned. He only rolled his eyes in response and shook his head in mock-exasperation. But for some reason you couldn’t move your eyes, or stop your lips from smiling, and you kept looking at him. At his pretty, pretty face, with his soft, soft hair. His lips, that had been breathing into your neck just minutes earlier. His beautiful brown eyes that you found staring back at yours. In just a second, a tension had built up and the energy in the room completely changed. You licked your lips nervously. What now? Neither of you dared to move. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing at this point. You felt the urge to say something, but you didn’t know what. Your mind was wiped completely empty. Jaime’s eyes were the first to flicker down to your lips.

And then his phone made a sound. You almost jumped apart, and he dizzily looked you up and down before turning around to grab his phone. His attention elsewhere and his eyes no longer on you, you remembered to breathe. Turning to face away from him, instead facing the wall he had been looking at so meticulously earlier you glid down so you were no longer sitting and let your covers almost swallow you whole. As if they could protect you from the fire you felt inside. You heard him setting his phone down again, and the rustling of the duvet when he laid down as well. You felt him looking at you. Did you dare look at him?

No.

“Good night, y/n.”

Only then you glanced over at him. “Good night Jaime.” You whispered, before looking back up at the ceiling.

By the sound of his breathing, he fell asleep soon after. Something you were, so very far away from at this moment. Your whole body was tense and your mind was going a mile a minute. You were acutely aware of his presence, his face just a couple inches to your side. There was no way you could calm down enough to fall asleep with him in your bed, next to you. You turned to face away from him, hoping it’d give you some sense of distance between you two. After some brainstorming you figured your best bet was to sneak out on to the couch once you were sure it wouldn’t wake him up. Well, that’s what you would’ve done, if you weren’t suddenly wrapped in Jaime’s arms literal seconds before you would have tried sneaking out. “Stay.” He murmured sleepily, face buried in your back. “Wh..” slipped out of your mouth as you tensed up, caught off-guard. “Khaj.” He answered your unspoken question, his hands around your waist. You had two choices. Give in, or not. You gave in.

Surprising how fast you can fall asleep when you’re in the arms of someone you l- When you’re in the arms of someone. Period.

You woke up still in his arms, and it made you feel all warm inside. Though, face-to-face now, with your face buried in his neck for a change. “Morning.” His voice was hoarse, though it sounded liked he had been for a while already. You didn’t feel like talking yet, so you just wrapped your arms around him tighter and buried your face in his shoulders more. Suddenly shy. One of his hands moved from your back to stroke your hair. This, you thought, is a moment you wished you could stay in forever. “You want some breakfast?” Jaime asked. “mmhm” you declined. “I only want to stay in bed with you.” He chuckled at that and started playing with your hair, wrapping strands around his fingers. “And to think just a few hours ago you tried to sneak out.” He teased. Your face scrunched up. “hmmh” you mumbled, “well, I changed my mind. Now you have to come over every night so I can fall asleep.” You weren’t completely serious when you said it, but Jaime just replied with a “Deal.” There was a content silence after this. He continued playing with your hair and you continued holding him. “Do you think trees get sad when their leaves fall off?” This came completely unprompted and so sudden it made you laugh. “Jaime what the fuck.” You pulled away to look at him, amused. He looked at you so full of love your brain stuttered. “I…” You trailed off. “No. If they’re capable of enough thought to be sad about it, I think they know the leaves will come back.” “But they won’t be the same leaves.” His fingers that were weaving through your hair before now began tracing invisible patterns on your skin. “Do you get sad when you get a haircut? I imagine it’s the same way.” You replied sincerely. He seemed to think about it before his face scrunched up. “I’d be sad if I got a buzzcut yeah.” You burst out laughing. After you calmed down you started running one of your hands through his hair. “I’d be sad if you got a buzzcut, too.” But I’d still love you.

“But I’d still love you.”

You didn’t even notice you said it out loud, the thought itself stunned you and made your hand stop playing with his hair for a second before you managed to get it moving again. You completely forgot about your face, so the shock was still seared into it. Eyes wide, looking at your hand in his hair, focusing on it, as if combing through his hair was the most difficult thing to do, just so you didn’t have to look into his eyes.

“You love me?”

Your hands halted and your eyes met his. “What?”

“You… love me?” he repeated in the same soft and unbelieving voice, barely above a whisper.

“What?” you felt like a broken record.

“You said you would still love me.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

In a way this situation was like the one yesterday, before his phone went off. Both of you staring at each other, not saying a word. But the energy was so different. He was waiting for you to say something, it seemed, to confirm or deny, but you didn’t know what to say. There are two wolves inside of you. So you stayed completely frozen instead. There was no phone ‘ding’ to save you this time. It was getting uncomfortable, neither of you saying anything. Your fight or flight instinct was begging for you to run. Instead, almost out of your control, your mouth opened, as if to say something. But then you remembered you had no idea what to say. “yes.” Oh. I guess we’re going with that. This seemed to break you out of your spell, you turned around, out of his arms, out of the bed, you got up. “Sorry.” “What? Why are you apologizing?” Jaime asked. Your back turned towards him you heard him move. Flight was kicking in, and you were well on your way out the bedroom when he managed to grab your arm and keep you from moving further away. “I love you!”

You stood still. Then you turned around. “I love you too.” Jaime said again, this time adding the ‘too’. “So you don’t have to apologize.” It was a little funny, if you were honest. The way he was half kneeling on your bed half standing on the floor, holding your wrist and telling you he loved you in just his shirt and underwear. “You do?” “Yeah. Of course. Of course I do, how could I not?” He said it so earnestly, it made you want to laugh because he was still in that weird position. “You do.” No longer a question. You stepped closer with a smile. “You love me.” Grinning now. “You love me.” He just repeated. Spiderman pointing meme. You nod. And then you kiss him.

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beah388love · 14 days

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You get Lost…

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Daddy!Loki x Little!Reader

Summary: you get lost…

Warnings: crying,lost,swearing,bad language,dark room,age regression!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

You was walking around the palace until you saw an entrance way you had never noticed before..

You walked through curiously and automatically got lost as you looked back and there was four other entrances.

You panicked and walked in a random direction hoping for the best.

You saw a door that looked familiar and pulled it open walking in, but when you saw it was an empty dark room you panicked and tried to leave but the door locked.

You panicked and began pulling down in the door repeatedly as you cried.

“No! Daddy?!” You screamed through a sob when you looked back at the pitch dark room.

You cornered yourself in the corner of the door and sobbed.

Trying to keep your eyes focused on the dark abyss but your tears kept blurring your vision.

“Daddy…” you choked through cries and held your heart when you began panting. You felt like you was about to have a panic attack.

You absolutely hated the dark it was one of your biggest fears.

You always slept with a nightlight or Loki would magic a soft light portray of sheep on the ceiling, as they were being counted to help you fall asleep.

So this was your worst nightmare.

———

“Where is my angel?” Loki asked one of the servants and he shook his head “I don’t know sir”

“I last saw her in the main hall” he said as he thought.

Loki nodded as he walked to the hall and looked around for you but you was nowhere to be found, he was starting to get worried.

Usually he would hear giggling or your little feet tapping on the ground but he heard nothing.

He looked around the whole palace and found nothing.

He was swearing to himself as he quickly walked through the same hall again and bumped into Thor.

“Loki..are you okay?” Thor asked when he saw lokis panicked face.

“I can’t find y/n! I’ve checked the whole palace!” Loki panicked as he ran his hand through his hair.

“I’ll help you” Thor said and they both looked around together until, Loki saw the storage room entrance and his eyes widened.

You had never been in there before…maybe you didn’t go in there?

He shook his head and walked in there anyway just in case.

And that’s when he heard it.

Your sobs.

“Fuck! Angel I’m coming!” Loki said loudly as he ran towards the door he could hear you from.

He tried to open the door but swore to himself when it didn’t open.

“Shit!” He swore as he let go of the handle

He used his magic to quickly form a key and unlocked the door, you sobbed as you looked up at him.

“Daddy!” You cried and he sighed in relief as he instantly wrapped his arms around you.

“Shh,shh…daddy’s here” he whispered into your ear softly as he stroked his hand up and down your back.

He took you out of the pitch black room and shut the door again.

“is dark-“ you cried into his neck and he kissed you on the head stroking your hair.

“It’s okay…it’s okay angel..it’s not dark anymore” Loki reassured you but you still cried, trying to catch your breath properly.

“I’m so sorry angel…” Loki said into your hair softly.

“It’s okay now…”

“No more dark” you said and he nodded

“No more dark” he repeated as your cries died down.

You hesitantly looked up from his shoulder at the light room.

You looked at him through your wet eyelashes.

Loki felt so bad when he saw your face fully.

Your cheeks and eyes were puffy from crying, eyelashes wet, eyes red and you had tear streaks down your face.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead “I’m so sorry angel..I’m so sorry” he whispered and you nodded

“I-is scary” you stammered and he nodded

“I know…you’re so brave..I’m sorry” he said and you nodded nuzzling your face back into his neck.

“Why was you down here angel?” Loki asked you and you pouted.

“Curious” you mumbled but he heard and he laughed.

“You’re my little trickster aren’t you?” He chuckled making you giggle with a nod.

“Loki? Did you find her?” Thor asked as he walked into the hall to see you in his arms on the floor.

“Is she okay?” He asked and Loki nodded.

Loki stood up with you, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll tell you later…let’s go have some food” Loki said to Thor when he felt your stomach rumble.

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into-crazy · 1 year

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nights like this

Ledger!Joker x Reader drabble

Summary: You climb into bed with J for some snuggles.

Warnings- none, J style fluff, ages 18+

I was in the mood for this, so I wrote it. Who doesn't love a little soft J every once in a while, right?

It had been an extremely exhausting past couple of weeks for Joker. He came very close to being captured by the Batman, and he'd done everything in his power to make sure that didn't happen. So when he was certain that he was finally in the clear, he came straight home to you.

J has been asleep for hours since he's been back. He was extremely exhausted and went straight to bed after he ate. It's currently half an hour until midnight, and he'd arrived earlier in the afternoon. So he's been out for some time. You gave him time to recover, seeing how this is the first time he's properly eaten and slept in days. However strong and incredibly stubborn as the man is, his mind and his body can only take on so much before he needs a break.

You always take care of him when he comes back. Such as checking his body for injuries, making sure he gets cleaned up, preparing him something to eat, and anything else that he needed. Now of course, J never made you do these things. You do them because you want to. Because you care about him. He accepts the things you do for him, and he doesn't take advantage of your caring nature. Not that you would allow him to, which is one of the many traits he likes about you.

While J slept, you'd tidied up around the place and used a good amount of your time to relax. Doing what you would normally like to do when you have the chance. It was relaxing, and you felt much better knowing that J was home. But eventually, you began to miss him. Even though he was right in the other room, you couldn't help but start to feel lonely. After all, it had been a few weeks since you've had any form of intimacy together. And you wanted to make up for that. Taking into account that he's still sleeping, you decide to just get into bed and cuddle up next to him.

The bedroom is dark as you walk in. Your eyes gradually adjust to the darkness while you tiptoe your way over to the bed. You find J widely sprawled out on his back under the covers. His soft snores indicate that he's probably in a deep state of sleep.

It had taken a long time for J to get comfortable and trusting enough to fall into a deep sleep around you. In fact, you can still recall the very first time that he did. Treasuring that moment forever in your heart, as it officially established his complete trust in you. So now when he goes to sleep he relies on you to watch over him. That is the only case in which he'll be able to get a good amount of rest. He's made it very clear that when one of you is asleep, the other is awake. Under no circumstances will he go to sleep at the same time as you. Because then no one would watch over either of you, and that would put you both in a vulnerable position.

Regardless, you have no intention on going to sleep. You only want to lay next to him, to be close and feel his warm presence. However, as a precaution, you set an alarm for thirty minutes from now on your smartphone. Just in case you happen to doze off.

You slip off your bottoms and toss them to the side. Left in your shirt and panties, you move carefully under the covers. Trying not to wake J in the process. You slide yourself in the area directly under his arm, getting as close to him as you possibly can. Luckily, your movements don't seem to disturb him one bit. He must really be out cold. Since you've made it this far, you use this opportunity to wrap your arm around his torso. That way, you can hold on to him.

After making yourself comfortable, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally. It was an effort well worth it.

You look up at J's face and simply stare at him. He had taken a shower recently, so his face is without his signature makeup. His scars are even more visible when he doesn't have all that paint covering them. You can't help but find them to be even more beautiful every time you see them. His body is warm, and he smells so good. Even after using your cleansing products does he still retain his own distinct scent somehow. You hope it'll always stay that way. Moving your hand to his chest, you can feel it steadily rising and falling with every breath he takes. You close your eyes and bask in his peaceful embrace. With every passing second, your chest swells with enormous amounts of love and adoration that you have for him.

J has never told you he loves you. But you'd like to think that somewhere inside of him he feels something close to love. And that's good enough for you.

You press your nose into him in attempt to feel him even closer. Holding him tighter and wishing your body could melt into his own. Your movements seemed to have roused him from his deep slumber. Shifting and stretching his limbs as he awakens.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times before looking around and then down at you. "Mm, hello there."

"Hi J." You smile up at him.

"How long have I been out?" He yawns deeply at the end of his question. His voice deep and husky from sleep.

You trace your finger along his chest. "A few hours. Seven or eight, maybe. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to climb in bed with you."

"Missed me that much, huh?" J laughs. He doesn't mind that you're here with him. In fact, he likes feeling you pressed against him like this. It's been a while since he's felt you too, after all. He nudges you playfully, "don't go falling asleep on me yet, doll. I'm gonna need another hour or two."

"I won't. I only wanted to hold you for a bit. A few more minutes then I'll get up, I promise." You assure him. "Go ahead and get some more sleep. I know you need it."

J hums and closes his eyes. Moving his arm to wrap around you better, so that he can hold you more comfortably. His hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back a couple times before resting there.

You lay still in his grasp as he falls back to sleep. Head resting cozily on his chest, listening to the harmony of his breathing and the beating of his heart. Sounds you love hearing together. It's not every day you get to hear them. So you capture every bit of it that you can. Nights like these are ones you hold on to. They're where you feel at peace. The only downside is that you know that you'll have to get up eventually. That sooner or later J will get up, and eventually leave again. There will be nights where you get to lay like this, and some where you won't. As it has always been. That's what it's like loving the Joker.

But for right now, you don't want to think about eventually. You'll just bask in the warmth of this moment. Staring off into the darkness, in the safety of J's arms.

#into-crazy #heath ledger joker #tdk joker #the dark knight joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x y/n #joker x reader #joker x y/n #ledger!joker #ledger joker #the dark knight #fanfic

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