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moonstruckme · 6 months

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i am so BUMMED when i realized ive read all of your polymarauders works. can i get more of them please? especially the one like the 'casual dominance' fic omgg. that one made me feel THINGS. btw!!! congrats on reaching the 1k mark. totally deserved <33

-🥀

Wow babe, that's a lot! I'm really glad you're enjoying them! I know I've written a few since you sent this in, but I decided to treat this as a request for specifically casual dom!marauders because I'm weak for them too :*

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Your teeth chatter as you step out of the fastest shower of your life, barely drying yourself off before starting on your makeup. You’re so dumb. You’re so, so dumb. Of course it’d be the night before your presentation that you’d accidentally set your alarm for PM instead of AM. How many times had you stirred, thought about getting up, and decided to wait until your alarm went off? It had only been when you’d woken to an empty bed, sunlight coming in through the window, that you’d realized.

You’re still running on the adrenaline of that waking jolt, now mixed with the extra edginess from your frigid shower since you couldn’t afford to wait for the water to warm. You probably won’t be late, but you’re definitely going to be late by pre-presentation standards. You’d planned to get there a half hour in advance to set up and mentally prepare. Now you’re going to have ten minutes at best, and that’s only if you can get out the door in the next few. You finish with your makeup—your hair’s just going to have to dry on the way—and turn to where you’d hung your pre-selected and Sirius-vetted presentation outfit the night before. The hangers sit empty.

You go into the bedroom, hoping one of the boys had laid them out on the bed while you’d been in the shower. Nothing. Just your socks and shoes where you’d left them by the bedroom door.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, pulling the socks on because you can do that, at least. “Shit shit shit!”

You take off down the stairs, relieved to see Sirius on his way up. “Hey! Do you know where—” your foot hits too close to the edge of one step, slipping down to the next. It seems inclined to keep going, but Sirius’ hands catch you around the waist.

“Jesus, baby.” He looks down at your feet as you get them under you again, eyebrows drawn together. “Running down the stairs is already a punishable offense, but with socks on?”

“Do you know where my presentation outfit went?” you ask in a rush.

Sirius blinks. “No. It’s not where you left it?” You shake your head and decide this conversation is no longer a productive use of your time, moving past him. “Don’t run,” he says after you, and you slow to a slight hustle down the remaining steps.

You practically skid into the kitchen, where Remus is just about to sit down at the table with his cup of coffee and James is running the blender. You raise your voice to be heard over it. “Do either of you know where my presentation outfit went?”

James stops the blender. “Morning to you too, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

You feel like you could burst into tears, but that would just waste more time. Why is no one cooperating with your need for efficiency?

“I’m going to be late!” you stress to James, turning around to survey the kitchen, the living room, like they’ll just be hanging in some random corner where you somehow forgot them. “I need my clothes, have you seen them?”

“Dove.” Remus takes you by the shoulders. “Breathe. You’ve got time.”

You exhale, trying not to twitch as your skin crawls with urgency, or to lecture him on how little time you actually have. Remus watches you patiently. His hands slide up to either side of your face once you no longer seem like a flight risk, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Your outfit’s in the dryer,” he says in a soothing voice, still holding you as if to keep you from running off. “I was warming it up while you were in the shower.”

Your next inhale scrapes on the way in, a grateful pressure building behind your eyes. “Rem, that’s so sweet,” you say. “Thank you.”

Remus gives you a smile and a little shrug, more casual than the faint pinkness of his cheeks would suggest. He lets his hands skim back down your neck, giving your upper arms a light squeeze. “Why don’t you let it finish running while you have your breakfast, yeah? That way there’s no risk of spilling on it.”

You shake your head, aware this won’t go over well but too anxious to worry much about it. “I don’t have time for breakfast,” you tell him. “I need to catch the bus in, like—” Your eyes search for a moment before landing on the microwave clock. “—five minutes.”

“I’ll drive you,” Sirius says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he comes back downstairs.

You glance at the microwave clock again in case you read it wrong the first time. “You can’t,” you say. “You’ll be late.”

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t have a presentation. They’ll deal with it.”

You look to Remus, expecting him to object to Sirius’ proposed tardiness, but he only nods, sitting down with his coffee.

“Are…are you sure?” you ask Sirius, trying to adjust to the sudden non-urgency of your situation.

“It’s no problem,” he promises you. “Stop looking so upset, honey, just eat your breakfast.”

“Drink your breakfast, is more like it,” James says proudly, coming in from the kitchen to pass you a glass of whatever he’d been concocting in the blender. It’s a murky brown-green, and you try not to wrinkle your nose for James’ sake.

“Thanks.” You take it from him tentatively. “It’s…it’s a smoothie?”

James laughs at your expression, and you think you hear Remus snort into his coffee. “Yes, it’s a smoothie. The color’s because of the chocolate protein powder and the spinach, but it’s got fruit, too, don’t worry.”

You swirl the glass a bit, assessing the color. “Why so much spinach?”

James sets a hand on your shoulder, encouraging you into your chair as he joins the three of you at the table with a smoothie of his own. “Iron, sweetheart.” He casts a pointed glance at your legs, spotted here and there with purple-and-yellow blotches of skin. “Seems like need it. You’re bruising like a peach lately.”

Remus hums in agreement as you take a tentative sip of the smoothie. It’s not bad, though you can feel little bits of spinach sticking to your teeth. You make a mental note to have Sirius check your smile before you get out of the car later.

“And I saw that look in your eyes when you stood up too quick from the couch yesterday,” Remus says, quirking an eyebrow when you look at him in surprise. “You’re not as subtle as you think, dove.”

You bring the glass to your lips again to avoid making a response. Sirius laughs, and when you smile sheepishly, his grin turns goofy. “Hold it there,” he says, taking your jaw in hand. You keep your smile in place as his eyes narrow. “Front tooth on the left. My left.” You lick at the piece of spinach, and he nods, dropping his hand.

“Knew I could count on you,” you tell him. “Thanks, Siri.”

Sirius pecks you on the cheek. “S’what I’m here for, gorgeous.”

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spacedace · 1 month

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“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

#dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #jon kent #jon el kent #damian wayne #justice league #super serious chaos #possible platonic super serious chaos it's up to yall #clones are called mirrorborn in the infinite realms #elle is the ancient of the speedforce #Dani Phantom is the Ancient of the Speedforce #I will make this happen if it kills me please someone else write something for this I'm going feral #impulsively marrying your friends to fuck with some of the most powerful entities in existence is a fun pass time everyone should try #their friends and family are exactly as unhinged as these three - sometimes even *More* unhinged - and can't say shit about it #so many justice league members are torn between sobbing because 'This was going to be a short meeting for once!' 😭#and being SO EXCITED because the chaos that is about to break out in this meeting room is going to be SO GOOD #There is so much tea that is going to be spilled at the cafeteria after this

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.

#skull rock to lover’s lake missing scenes are becoming my new fave (of which i have many faves ❤️)#eddie and lucas #pre steddie #steve and lucas #steve and max #eddie and max #lumax #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #lucas and erica #steve and erica #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #steve harrington #steve x eddie #lucas x max

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training4theapocalypse · 6 months

Text

Tiny Stitches (Adrian Chase x gn!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT, Graphic injury detail, Handjob

Summary: Your Halloween plans are cancelled last minute. You’re ready for a night alone eating Halloween candy until Vigilante comes to your door needing stitched up.

A/N: Based on this ask by @impossibleheartflower - thank you! No pronouns are used but the reader is wearing a slutty nurse outfit. It’s pretty nondescript (e.g. no specific mention of skirt or pants) so the slutty nurse outfit can be whatever you want it to be. Maybe the real slutty nurse outfit is the friends we made along the way.

Masterlist

Chapter text

You dip your hand in your bubble bath to test the temperature - it’s not exactly going to make up for the fact that your Halloween date flaked at the last second but you know you’ll feel better when you take off this ridiculous costume and sink into the bubbles.

You hear a distant knock from your front door and turn off the tap.

It’s sort of late for trick-or-treaters. Right? Maybe your apartment is the last stop for the kids who live in your building. You don’t want to end up on a register somewhere so you pull on a robe over your sexy nurse costume.

“Coming!” You rush out of the bathroom to unchain your front door.

You let out a gasp of shock when you open it. Thud. A man’s body falls backwards into your apartment.

“What the fuck?!”

Is he… dead?

Dread fills you as your eyes ping over every part of his figure, looking for signs of life. But it’s hard to tell when he’s dressed in a black and teal Halloween costume with his face completely concealed by a mask.

Almost completely.

His eyes are just visible behind the red visor on his mask. He blinks up at you. He blinks. He’s alive.

The man dressed up as the masked Vigilante of Evergreen groans. “It’s me... Sorry.”

That voice is familiar. “Who- ?”

Vigilante stares up at you standing over him. He knows he’s got more pressing matters to worry about than being offended that you don’t recognise his voice but he can’t help it. He’d know your voice anywhere. Hell, he even recognises the way your keys jingle in the hallway when you get home from work.

“I’m your neighbour… from across the hall.” He clutches his side with one hand so he can rip off his mask with the other.

Oh.

‘Hot guy’ is the stupid thought that pops into your head when you stare at his upside-down face lying across your doorway. You realise who he is now after all, under his Halloween costume, with his dark, curly hair and sharp jaw - all that’s missing is his glasses. You’re not even sure of his name - you’ve been so used to referring to him as ‘Hot Guy Across The Hall’ in your friends’ group chat for months that you’re more accustomed to calling him that in your head.

‘Hot Guy Across The Hall took a package in for me today.’

‘I bet you’d like to take a package from Hot Guy Across The Hall.’

You snap out of it when you see a trickle of blood drip onto your floor. You look at the gloved hand clutching his side - he’s holding a wound on his abdomen. A dark puddle of blood leaks through the fabric, staining the white parts of his gloves crimson. A new terror sets in as you realise he’s been attacked.

“Please, I need a nurse.”

“This…” You look down at your red and white polyester outfit and the plastic stethoscope around your neck that’s visible underneath your open robe. “This is a Halloween costume.”

“I know that. I’ve seen you in scrubs.”

“I’m a vet.”

“Uh, thank you for your service?”

“A veterinarian.” You stick your head out the door and look up and down the hallway, worried about anyone stumbling upon the bloody scene. “Get in here.” You slip off your robe so you can move freely, then bend down and drag Hot Guy Across The Hall by his underarms into your apartment, sliding him across your wooden floor and shutting the door behind him. Fuck, he's heavier than he looks.

Shit, what was his name?

“Aidan, right?”

“Close enough.” He groans, staring up at your ceiling.

“Can you get up if I help you?”

“Mhm,” he winces in affirmation and you bend down to put his arm around his shoulder. He inhales sharply, holding onto his side as you help him across your small apartment into your bedroom. You’re glad your apartment is clean. Not that you’d admit out loud that you’d tidied it specifically just in case your date had gone well tonight.

You help him onto your fresh bedspread. The blood is definitely going to stain your new sheets. Perfect.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” you say, tossing the plastic stethoscope aside and sitting beside him on the edge of the bed so you can assess the wound. “Wait, is your costume a onesie?”

“No,” he groans. “I just need to take off the belt-” He swears when he removes his hand from his side to unfasten his gunbelt. A jolt of adrenaline courses through you when you realise that attached to him are real guns.

“Okay, let me do that. You just keep applying pressure.” You firmly move his hands from his belt to his wound. The sound of metal on metal clicks in your silent bedroom when you gently unthread the belt from the loops. “There we go, you’re doing great,” you soothe as you place the belt and his gun on the floor and roll up the top half of his suit. Your fingers tremble slightly when you realise the fabric under them isn’t cheap polyester. It’s thick. Lined with what you expect is Kevlar. This is no bargain bin Halloween costume.

Oh shit.

There’s a long but shallow knife wound running down his ribs. It doesn’t look like there’s any damage to his vital organs. But it’s gruesome. “I’ll get my car keys - I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“Wait!” He tries to sit up but yelps in pain and lies back again.

“Please, I can’t go there… Too many questions.”

It confirms your suspicions.

“You’re not dressed up for Halloween.” It’s not a question but you look up to see his response all the same. You’ve been so focused on his injury that you haven’t noticed the way his green eyes have been searching your face. He slowly shakes his head and looks at you beseechingly. Ugh. You can’t say no to those pretty eyes. It’s why you ended up becoming a vet - you just can’t resist the stupid, puppy-dog eyes.

“I don’t have any anaesthetic. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep that sentiment in mind when you’re screaming in a second.”

You leave him and boil some water while you busy yourself finding your medical supplies and a bottle of vodka. You set up your things on the bedside table while you sit on a throw pillow on the floor next to the bed.

“God, this is always the worst bit.” He says, squinting at you dipping the gauze in the boiled water, getting ready to clean out the wound.

“Don’t you normally wear glasses?”

“They’re in my pocket.”

You reach into his pocket and carefully place them on his face. “Better?” He nods. “Or maybe you don’t wanna see this?”

“Aren’t you gonna clean it out with vodka first?” He asks as your hand hovers over his wound, holding the gauze.

“Hell no - that’s only in the movies. Alcohol can damage your tissue. This is for us.” You open the bottle with one hand, take a quick swig and shudder before handing him the bottle.

“Shouldn’t you be sober for this?”

“Hey, the dogs never complain when I turn up to work drunk.”

“They don’t?”

Your face cracks into a smile as you take in the sincerity of his look. “A joke. I’m joking.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He takes a long gulp of vodka, screws up his face and passes it back to you.

You clean his wound and he clenches his fists, breathing heavily.

“So, you said you’ve done this before?” You ask, trying to distract him.

“Yeah,” he says through gritted teeth.

You scan his toned lower abdomen and spot a gruesome-looking scar just under his navel. “Oof, I can tell. That looks like shit.”

“Hey-” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you give the wound one last wipe.

You thread the sterilised needle. “You ready?”

“Wait.” He extends his arm towards the vodka and you pass it to him so he can take another drink. He shakes his head. “Ready.”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.”

He groans when the needle breaks his skin. “So, what’s your name? If it’s not Aidan.” If you keep him talking, you can take his mind off the pain. Keep him conscious.

“It’s Adrian.”

“How about that? I was close.”

“I know yours. I get your packages sometimes.” He says your full name and address as if reciting a poem.

“Well remembered,” you say, furrowing your brow in concentration as you make the next stitch. He grabs your shoulder instinctively.

“Sorry,” he whimpers.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good.”

His grip tightens at that.

“Anyway, how come you’re home more than me? You always get my packages. Doesn’t doing all this keep you busy?”

“I work nights. Mostly. Evenings too at my other job.”

“You’re a waiter, right? I’ve seen your uniform.”

“Busboy.”

“That’s cool,” you jabber on, focusing on keeping him distracted. “Must be a pretty convincing secret identity.”

“Right?!” He perks up at your compliment, extremely pleased that you think his secret identity is a good one.

“Bussing tables in the evenings then committing murder at night?”

“It’s not murder.” He grimaces again. The grip on your shoulder is now vice-like. “It’s holding people accountable.”

“Sure, sure…” you say. You feel strangely calm. It’s as if the shy, awkward dude on your bed is just cosplaying as Vigilante. Even though you’re currently stitching up his fresh wound from whatever the fuck it is he’s been up to tonight.

“...You’re not gonna, like, tell anyone, right?” You feel his eyes studying your face as you continue stitching him up.

“That depends. What are you gonna do for me?”

For some reason, his cheeks turn crimson and he blinks rapidly behind his glasses.

“Uh, like what?” he blusters.

“Does your job have any perks?

“Uh… Do you need me to kill someone?”

“No!” And despite the absurdity of the question, you laugh. “I meant like free pink lemonade for life in exchange for stitching you up.”

“Ohhhh, right. I dunno. I might get asked a lot of questions if I give you free drinks.”

“More questions than you’d get at the hospital if I took you there instead?”

“Uh, no, probably not.” He chews his lower lip seriously and it makes you feel bad for teasing him in his sorry state.

“I’m kidding, dude. My lips are sealed.”

The fact he’s Vigilante doesn’t scare you in the way you know it should. You know you should absolutely phone the police. But you kind of enjoy sharing this. A dirty little secret between the two of you.

“Pink lemonade is overhyped,” he says after a few beats.

“Is is not! It’s like the best kind of lemonade.”

“It is - ow! Sorry! Okay, sorry for saying it’s overhyped! Pink lemonade is great. Jesus.”

“That wasn’t on purpose - sorry. It’s just the last stitch… Keep holding onto my shoulder if you want?” Before you even finish the suggestion, his blood-stained gloved grips onto your white nurse outfit. “You’re being so brave.”

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers.

His whimper makes you feel flustered in a way you hadn’t expected. And you’re pretty sure it’s nothing to do with the task at hand.

You can’t think of a response to comfort him. Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired - usually, your patients are much fluffier. You stop short of calling him a good boy and patting his head

Finally, you tie off your last stitch and squeeze some antibacterial ointment onto the neat row of stitches.

“Done. Now take a look at this.” With difficulty, he hoists himself into his elbows to look at his stomach. “Evenly spaced stitches, not too tight, yeah? Now look at these.” You point at the scar on his lower abdomen. “Tiny stitches. They’re too tight. And you shouldn’t make X’s when you sew yourself up. Not bad for a second try, though.”

“That was like the fifth time I’ve done it,” he pouts. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Look, you can feel how it’s gone all bumpy.” You trace your fingers along the scar, feeling the way the skin has healed unevenly under the trail of hair on his stomach.

He flushes again as he looks down at you, your fingers brushing his abdomen.

“What?”

“Sorry.” He lies back again, determinedly looking at the ceiling.

“For what? Oh.” Your forearm brushes against something hard in his pants as you remove your hand from his stomach. “My bad.”

“It’s not - ” he winces, trying to sit up further but changes his mind mid-way through. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt?”

“My… my boner?”

“No!” You crack up laughing again and he joins in uncertainly as if not sure why. “Your very recent knife wound?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean - no.” His eyes linger on your body and you suddenly feel very aware of the fact that you’re kneeling at his side wearing not very much clothing. He swallows and looks away quickly. “Y’know, I should go. I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

You laugh like it’s nothing. That this whole situation is totally in your comfort zone.

“Don’t worry about it. I was supposed to be going to a Halloween party with a date but they bailed.”

“They bailed on you?”

“Eh, it happens.” You shrug. “They mighta had a better offer.”

“Than you?” He looks at you seriously and pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “No way. Not possible. You’re, like, a ten.”

You tilt your head and look at him carefully. He takes a sharp inhale of breath when you get up from the floor, sit on the bed next to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

“Wha - what are you doing?”

“You don’t seem to have a fever…” His eyebrows scrunch together as he gazes up at you through his wire-rimmed frames. “I just thought you might be hallucinating.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not hot.”

“You don’t have to compliment me just because I stitched you up.”

“Am not!” he protests like you’re teasing him. “I’d compliment you all the time if you didn’t run off every time I saw you.”

It’s your turn to protest. “I do not ‘run off’.”

Although it’s not strictly true. You sort of do. You just thought he hadn’t noticed.

“Uh, yeah!” he says. “When you picked up that package last week? It was kinda impressive how fast you sprinted across the hall.”

You feel heat rising in your neck as you remember it. He had answered the door wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants, grinning as you read the indiscreet label plastered on the front.

‘HOSPITAL HOTTIE - ADULT FANTASY LINGERIE’

You had stammered a quick thanks before fleeing back to your apartment where you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, eyes closed, not sure whether to text your friends immediately with this news or to strip off and take a cold shower.

You look down at your almost bare legs and smooth out the front of your outfit, now wishing you hadn’t so hastily thrown off your bathrobe. It must look ridiculous.

“Y’know when I saw the label, I thought a lot about what was in that package.”

Your eyes dart up instinctively to see if he’s making fun of you. He’s smiling. But sincerely. It’s a cute smile. With dimples.

“You did?”

“Tch - Hell yeah I did. I sort of… I dunno. Fantasised about this, I guess.”

Your throat feels dry. “About this?”

“Yeah, I mean I thought I might have been dreaming when you actually opened the door like that.”

You look at him suspiciously. “Adrian… did you - did you get stabbed on purpose so I’d take care of you?”

“What? No! I never get stabbed.”

“Never?”

You touch the scar on his lower abdomen again and this time - intentionally - your forearm rests on his crotch.

“Well, hardly ever.”

“You should let me stitch you up from now on,” you say, as your fingers dance down his stomach. “The next rare occasion you get stabbed.”

The heel of your hand barely grazes the tip of his hard cock through his pants. When his eyes lock onto yours, you know you’re not being slick. He swallows. You freeze. You’re worried you’ve overstepped.

You both stare at each other for a few seconds.

You realise you’ve been holding your breath. “What else was in your fantasy?” you whisper in an exhale.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes like he’s throwing caution to the wind. “This.” His gloved hand clamps on top of yours faster than you’d have expected in his injured state and he firmly moves your hand over his cock.

Fuck it.

Your hands work urgently, unzipping the suit hugging his waistline and suddenly his warm cock is under your palm.

He suppresses a groan of pain and you look up in alarm, worried that you’ve hurt him somehow but you can see he’s trying to sit up.

“Lie back - you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“It’s - ow, fuck - it’s worth it if I can kiss you.”

You push his chest back gently so he’s lying on your pillows and kneel on the bed to kiss him. As soon as your lips meet his, he tries to lift himself up again, lurching himself deeper into your mouth. Your tongue slips into his mouth as you push, more firmly this time, onto his chest so he can’t sit up.

You lean your forehead against his and his glasses push into your brow. “Keep still. Nurse’s orders.”

“I thought you were a vet,” he says breathlessly.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

You lick your palm, wrap your hand around his cock and slide it along his shaft.

“Oh fuck... Fuck - you’re so hot. Where - where have you been all my life?”

His eyebrows knit together in a beautiful, pathetic sort of way that makes your lower tummy burn dangerously.

“Across the hall in this slutty little outfit. Waiting to take care of you.”

“Holy fucking shit.” He tenses his thighs and jerks his hips up into your slick fist with a laboured groan.

“Don’t. Stay still,” you tell him sternly. For some reason your reprimand makes him clench his jaw.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah? I bet you do. I bet you’ve been jerking off thinking about it.”

“Y- yeah,” he gasps. His cheeks are flushed pink. You don’t think it’s from embarrassment - you have a feeling he doesn’t embarrass easily so you press on.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve been - shit - I’ve been jerking off thinking about you.”

“Doing what?” Your hand picks up pace and he squirms underneath your touch.

“I told you. This.”

“Just this?”

“Fuck. No.”

“Tell me then,” you repeat.

“I wanted to - oh god - when you ran across the hall, I wanted to grab you.” His voice strains. “Pull down your scrubs and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t forget my name again.”

You feel yourself dissolving then and there. “Shit. I would have let you.”

“Ah - fuck,” he whispers as he throbs under your hand. “Let me. Please.”

“No.” You stay in your kneeling position on the bed - one hand bracing against his chest to prevent him from sitting up and the other pumping up and down his cock. “You’re hurt. Lemme take care of you.”

He whimpers and pushes his head back into your pillows. The muscles in his pale neck tighten as he swallows hard. You can’t resist leaning down and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on the exposed sensitive flesh of his throat.

“Relax, Adrian,” you murmur, your mouth pressed against his skin.

When his name leaves your lips, his groan vibrates in his throat against your mouth in response.

“Fuck - fuck - you feel so good.”

“You know where’d feel better, right?”

Adrian’s hips jerk up into your hand again. You don’t scold him this time - you let him squirm and work his hips in sync with your fist. He can handle it.

You kiss along his jawline and meet his lips again.

“Cum for me and you can fuck me when you’re healed,” you whisper.

And quicker than you’d expected - he does.

A shaky gasp leaves his lips and without really realising you’re doing it, you pant with him, breathing each other’s air as spurts of warmth coat your fingers. Your hand flexes along his length as you milk every last rope of cum from him and he collapses back onto your fluffy, white pillows.

Grabbing tissues from your bedside table, he lets you clean him up without complaint as he breathes heavily, staring at your ceiling.

“Better?” You give him a wry smile and he brings his gaze back to you.

“Yeah…” He looks down at his new stitches apprasingly. “I just wish I hadn’t been stabbed.”

“Yeah, well I’m kind of glad you were.”

He laughs so hard that he winces in pain and holds his side again. “Fuck. You’re kind of a freak, you know that, right?”

“Maybe I just like helping injured little things that give me puppy dog eyes.”

Adrian exhales a gentle laugh and fixes his glasses.

“Did you mean what you said about stitching me up again?”

You meet his green eyes. “Did you mean what you said about fucking me so hard I’d never forget your name again?”

“Uh, yeah? Obviously.”

“Then sure.” You toss the used tissue into the trash can and kiss him again. “Fucking sounds good. Pink lemonade is overhyped, anyway.”

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x reader #smut #halloween

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buckysbabygorl · 1 year

Text

Punching Bag (Bucky Angst)

Summary: As much as Bucky can't stand Y/N, he's tired of her taking all the blows on the field. They have to come up with a plan.

Word Count: N/A

“Get your hands off me.”

She shoved him away, as best she could given her state.

“I can do it myself.”

She took the med kit from his hands, in her drunken stupor she stumbled to the dining table, fumbling with the latches on the case.

Bucky was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep after a long—god awful---day and put the mission behind him.

He dropped his mission bag at the doorway.

“All you’re going to do is make it worse. I don’t need you waking up tomorrow complaining about your drunken hack job.”

She glared at him, pulling out supplies.

“Sober or not, I can stitch myself up fine. Just because I’m not an army vet doesn’t mean I don’t know basic field medics.”

She mumbled something more under her breath; probably dick or asshole, some of her common artillery when insulting him.

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this right now. Today had been hard, and for Bucky that was saying something. Whether it was being back in Russia, during its coldest and iciest period of the season; or being stuck with the person he loathed the most, he wasn’t sure what had triggered him.

But he was on edge and exhausted, and he wanted this night to end.

Then she had to go and get stabbed of all things, and now this dark hour was dragging on and on and on...

It was then Bucky realized that this sad excuse of a safe house would not give him enough space from her. It was a bachelor style apartment, something small enough that would never catch the eye of enemies, tucked away in an complex that was filled with much more shady individuals that them. There was a kitchenette, a dining table with two chairs, and a couch that pulled out. There was also a rickety old rocking chair, which looked far from comfortable.

This night wouldn't get any shorter.

“Ow.”

She stabbed her self softly with the needle, swaying slightly as she tried to stablize herself.

“Jesus Christ," Bucky said, "did you even wash your hands?”

“Fuck you.” She retorted.

His jaw tensed as he stopped himself from raising his hands, he wanted to tear his hair out strand by strand.

Why was she always so fucking argumentative?

“Would you stop saying that?”

He strode across the room, kneeling in front of her chair and grabbed her arm.

She attempted to pull away from him, which was stupid to do with a needle in hand.

“Let go.” She demanded.

She pulled back, hard, and Bucky gripped her forearm.

“Will you just—enough.” His voice stern and commanding.

She halted, slightly hazey and swaying. But she stopped.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh.

“For once, can you just shut up and listen? For five seconds, can you do that?”

She blinked slowly at him, pursing her lips.

He recognized that look in her eye; it was always followed by a sly grin, a tilt of her head that said “what are you gonna do about it, Sergeant?”

This time, she slumped back into her chair. She relaxed her arm and used the other to shove the kit towards him.

“Fine. Do your worst. I don’t give a shit if you leave a scar.”

He waited a moment, to see if she’d say something more or change her mind, maybe smack his hand away one more time.

But she didn’t.

So Bucky picked up the needle and went to work.

She didn’t look at him while he stitched her up, remaining in her dead stare as she looked straight at the wall.

She winced a few times but said nothing.

After a few minutes, the quiet made Bucky’s skin itch.

“Why did you jump at her, anyways? I had it covered.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling through gritted teeth.

Responding wasn’t worth the effort, so she shrugged.

“Really? You’re not going to say anything?” He asked.

She groaned. “Does it matter? Not like I can do anything about it now.”

He shook his head, continuing as if he hadn’t heard her. “--And downing a bottle of tequila won’t make you feel better.”

She bit the palm of her hand as he worked his way along her side.

Her breaths stuttered as she inhaled.

“Hurts less.” She mumbled.

He paused a moment.

He remembered what that felt like. How much these kind of things could hurt you. He could imagine the pain she was going through, he could see it in her face. But he tried to ignore it. He was still mad at her.

“I don’t get you. You do this every time, you’re not invincible you know—”

She slammed her hand on the table.

“I know that! Jesus, you tell me every time—AH!”

She pulled away from him, hurting herself as he had tightened a stitch.

He looked up as his hands steadied her, and his voice softened.

“Y/N, sit still...”

Her head was turned away from him, but he could still see the corner of her eye and the downturn of her lip.

He hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

He tilted his head down, biting on the inside of his cheek. Best to just get this over with.

“Just… sit still. I’m almost done.”

They fell into silence again. The winter snow was building up on the safe house windows, the wind pounding against the panes.

He tried to shut it out. But it was either listen to the howling storm or rehash the scenario in his brain.

Her voice came over his ear piece, she told him to watch his six; that agents were entering through the south wing of the building. He ignored her, he had it covered.

She must’ve taken his silence the wrong way; she figured he was in danger. She was like that, she’d assume the worst and abandon her post to cover. Fuck, why did she have to do that…

“Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Surprised by her question, Bucky looked up from his hands. She still wouldn’t turn to face him.

“Called him while I was walking back. Said he can get a jet in a 4 am. With the storm it’s hard to get here—”

She winced again. He groaned.

“Stop moving.”

She awed at the ceiling and clenched her hand into a fist.

“My god, would it kill you to have some sympathy?”

He tied off the suture and snipped the thread.

“I don’t have sympathy for idiocy.”

She scoffed, “Fuck you.”

Which she had said for the umpteenth time today.

He decided to ignore it. But he was still fuming, still angry at her… why, why would she do that?

He should’ve watched his six, he knew he should’ve.

They came up behind him, 4 out of the 6 agents had decided to cover his wing.

He was holding his own, but the one was smart. Patient. Waiting while the others hammered Bucky with brute force to deliver a fatal blow. She had been aiming for his right side, probably trying to stab between his right ribs or his into his spine…

“You know, normal people say thank you.” He nodded to her left side, where 10 stitches sat neatly in line.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Her words were icy, she nearly spat them at him.

Bucky scoffed. “Why should I thank you? I had it covered, you jumped in and now I have to patch your drunk-ass up—”

“I did it because it’s instinct. I saw my partner outnumbered and I saved your ass. Sorry it’s an inconvenience to you because I’m not a goddamn super soldier.”

The slam of his hand on the table made her jump, and her eyes went wide at the thought that he might actually make her shut up for once.

"You can't throw yourself in a fight where you'll get more hurt than I will."

His eyes faltered when he looked at her, "We... we talked about this Y/N--"

Silence fell between them again.

She fumbled with the bottle cap on the table, and Bucky stood still at her side.

He didn't know what more to say, and she didn't know how to respond.

Because he was right, they had talked about this before many times.

There were never tender moments between the two, but the closest they'd ever gotten to something like that was usually Y/N's recovery. They were paired together more often than not; aside from them loathing one another, they were extremely compatible.

But each time they teamed up, something like this happened.

Y/N would get stabbed, she'd get shot, she'd break a bone or two, she'd pick a fight that was out of her depths.

He'd get mad and so would she, then a day or two would pass and he'd watch her struggle with something. Whether it was taking the stairs, or doing her physio, or getting back into training...

Somehow they'd end up alone and they fell back into this same conversation.

You can't always put yourself at risk for me, I know you're skilled but there's situations where you need to be more careful.

She'd sit with it, and usually come back with the same response.

I know you're capable of taking more than most people, but it doesn't mean you get to be a punching bag. If my partner is in trouble, I'm going to step in.

There was never a solution made, because he was the immovable object and she was the unstoppable force.

In short, they were both too stubborn and too proud.

Normally, she wouldn't bring it up. But feeling brave, or drunk enough to be brave, she did.

"We're going around in circles, Barnes."

She didn't look up from the table, but he continued to stare.

"We can't fight about this every single time we go on a mission. We've requested to be separated, and that's not happening. So tell me what the fuck you want me to do, because I'm not just gonna take a seat every time it gets ugly."

He sighed, "What I'd like you to do is not be an idiot out there--"

"Hm," She took another drink, "And I'd like you to stop being an asshole."

His jaw clenched again. Every time with this girl...

"Do you not see where I'm coming from?" He gestured to her ribs, "Look at you, Y/N. How many scars is that now? From our missions alone?"

She shook her head, fiddling with the cap.

"I don't know Barnes, that's not the point."

She did know, it was nine now.

"The point is I'm not going to change my mind and neither are you. So figure it out with me instead of fighting me every chance you get. Pick a different fucking solution."

It seemed Bucky couldn't stop sighing, he wanted to walk away from this night and be done with it. But he knew they'd be back in this position a month from now, and a month after that, and so on.

So, begrudgingly, Bucky sat down at the table.

"Fine. If you won't stop being reckless--"

"--And you won't stop being a dick--"

He pointed at her, "Okay first. Stop doing that. I get you're frustrated but you swear at me a lot. I hate it. It feels like you try to pick a fight."

She went to speak, but all she could think of were insults involving curse words. He'd proven his point.

Her lip curled in a scowl, "Fine."

He nodded. "Okay."

She shifted to sit with her arms crossed on the table, eyes flicking up to him.

"Stop telling me I'm an idiot. And stop saying I'm reckless. You think it's reckless 'cause I'm not Steve or Thor, or whoever else was enhnaced on the team... just because I'm not like you guys doesn't mean I'm being stupid when I'm out there."

God, he wanted to fight her on that.

Different capabilities meant different actions in certain situations, at least in his eyes.

But he kept it to himself, at least they were starting to work on something.

"Okay..." He drew out the word, subtly saying he wasn't okay with it, but Y/N didn't care.

He could think what he wanted, but he didn't get to throw it in her face every time he wanted.

"I can't control what you do on the field." Bucky started, "You make your own calls and you... you know what you're doing out there."

Y/N smirked at the look of pain on Bucky's face, she know he hated to admit it. But she was damn good at her job.

"--but if there's a situation that I think you need to stay out of, respect me when I ask."

"What if I think I can handle it?" She questioned.

He lifted his hand off the table slightly, halting her to let him finish.

"If I need you, I'll tell you."

She rolled her eyes, "So I'm supposed to wait until my coach puts me in?"

His fists balled in frustration. "No, I'm saying be there but..."

He leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling.

"I don't know, maybe we have a call sign when we both need each other."

He said that to appease her, he didn't think there would ever be a time he'd need her, but maybe she would need him. And at least it would keep her from jumping in and getting sliced to bits.

She snorted, "What, like a safe word?"

He huffed slightly, "I guess so, yeah."

That seemed to be enough conversation for her, as she stumbled out of her chair and clambered over to the musty pull out couch in the corner. She was still nursing that damn bottle in the crook of her arm.

Bucky sat, somewhat surprised that that was the end of it.

"I'm tired." She mumbled as she slipped onto the mattress, kicking her go-bag onto the ground.

I guess I'll take the floor, Bucky thought.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, his words laced with contempt. "Any thoughts on the safe word?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the early effects of a hang over.

"Yeah," she muttered, "Punching bag."

Bucky waited for more from her, but after a few moments of silence, her snoring began and he accepted that as the end of their conversation.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

He accepted his place in the awful rocking chair, but not before picking the bottle of tequila out from beneath her.

He took one final look at his patch up of her ribs, before settling into his seat, eagerly waiting for Sam's arrival.

They didn't speak more of their truce after that night, but there had been an unspoken agreement on both ends to keep their promise.

They'd be less hostile towards one another; and they'd work their roles independently during missions unless someone asked for help.

And, oddly enough, their "safe word" popped up more and more with each mission. It was easier than saying the words "I need your help", because both were so stuck in their pride to ever admit that. But "punching bag" worked just fine.

In fact, they had gotten so comfortable using it during their duo missions, that it became an oddity to the rest of the Avengers in team missions.

"Barnes, what's your location?"

"Intersection of Francis Street and Main."

"I'm west of Francis by one block. Alice Street. Punching bag."

Within less than a minute, he was there.

It was rare for Bucky to use it, but every so often he had.

One time, it had been used because Bucky's metal arm had adhered to the FOD magnetic sweepers of their combatant's tank.

Y/N had laughed when she arrived, but never brought it up afterwards.

That was another thing, an interesting development so to speak. In its month's of usage, "Punching bag" somehow became "come, no questions asked."

Sam, Joaquin and Sharon had all taken notice of this new addition to their lingo; but decided not to press it. Ever since it had been implemented, the two were actually getting along. Sam would argue they were somewhat friendly with one another.

It was a peaceful three months since their Russia mission, and the team was going to ride it out as long as they could.

Bucky felt numb. Which was bad, because usually that led to an anger spiral or a drawn out dissociation episode. Neither were good options for him.

It was a bad day. A really fucking bad day.

He had called his therapist, but at the fourth call with no answer, he had assumed she was asleep.

Of course she was, it was 2 in the morning.

Bucky tried to remember what she had taught him; their so-called "game plan" when things went south.

He didn't want to listen to music, he had tried going for a walk, he had tried using that dumb journal she recommened he'd buy but he couldn't write anything down.

Call someone, she had said, your line of work has a select few that understand what you're going through. And those select few happen to be your friends, you can lean on them . That's what they're there for.

He had hovered over Sam's contact for—about—15 minutes. But he didn't want to.

Some nagging feeling in the forefront of his mind pulled him back, to lean towards someone else.

He scrolled down, clicked the contact, and sent a quick message.

Punching bag.

And then he waited.

Bucky had left his location on in their group comms chat, and Y/N was surprised to see that he was in his own apartment.

Her mind jumped to an intruder holding Bucky hostage in his own home; or him being kidnapped, leaving his phone behind and it was the last message he had been able to send before being taken away.

She got paranoid like that. She was working it out in therapy, or whatever.

Bucky rarely used their safe word, which she resented him for, but when he did she knew it was serious.

She was there in 10 minutes.

Bucky heard shuffling outside his door; as stealthy as she was, he had the fortune of super-soldier hearing.

Then she gave their call sign, an additional one that was in early development. One knock, a pause, then four knocks.

You're, one syllable, an id-i-ot, four syllables

He'd respond back with two hard knocks to signal it was clear; two syllables for "fuck you".

Apparently their old habits died hard.

He had left the door unlocked, and she entered slowly.

With a quick scan of the room, she deemed the coast was clear. Even more surprising considering the text she had received less than 15 minutes ago.

She looked at him with question, "Our safe word is usually for emergencies, y'know."

He nodded, but said nothing.

She pursed her lips, more confused but coming in regardless.

"...Alright."

She slipped off her coat and kicked off her boots. She found it odd to see him on the floor, then noticing the pillow and blankets laid out on the hardwood, she realized that's how Bucky slept.

Late at night, she put two and two together; he'd tried to sleep and couldn't.

She folded her coat and sat down across from him.

She stayed silent, patiently waiting for him.

He continued to say nothing.

She waited for a few minutes longer, prompting him to give some sort of explanation for his text.

But again, nothing.

She clapped her hands once on her knees, and stood up. Bucky panicked, fearing she would leave---

"You got back at 10, right?" She asked.

Bucky was taken aback by her knowledge of his returning home, but nodded after his pause.

She hummed, "Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Uh--" Bucky thought for a moment, realizing he hadn't. "--No."

She nodded. It was a start.

"Okay. Then uh---I'm gonna get you some food."

After digging through the cabinets whilst Bucky sat on the floor, she mustered her supplies; butter, cheese, and bread.

Grilled cheese wasn't the fanciest of meals but considering the situation, it would have to do. Besides, she didn't know how to cook anything else.

5 minutes later, a plate plopped down in front of him, and she sat cross-legged as she started on her sandwich.

He watched her for a moment, before she looked up at him with a mouthful.

"Don't let good eatings go to waste Barnes," she wiped crumbs from her lips, "I put my blood, sweat and tears into this meal."

Shockingly, even to himself, Bucky laughed. And then he ate.

"I would've added onion," She said, "But you don't seem to have... many ingredients in your fridge, Buck."

He was surprised at her wanting to use onion, and even more surprised at her usage of his first name. But he let the latter slide.

"Onion?" He questioned.

She sent an odd look back at him, "What? You've never had onion in your grilled cheese?"

When he shook his head no, she went into a ramble.

"My god, you're missing out. I'll tell you this; one time, my Pops went into this diner, you see--"

Bucky felt himself smile as she went on, telling a story of her grandpa recommending the restaurant make it a special of the day, "grilled cheese with onion", and how it had been such a hit with the locals, that they gave her grandpa a free grilled cheese every day from that day on. Which was how she knew how to make it.

She told more stories about her grandpa, then about her family, and Bucky realized he'd never heard more about her in one sitting. In fact, he realized he had known nothing about her personal life the entire time they had been working alongside eachother.

He sat happily listening, grilled cheese in hand, and even took her up on seconds as she continued to talk.

Y/N figured that, sometimes, that's what someone needs. To fill the silence, to feel the normal, especially on days that were less than good.

And eventually, the other person would start talking too.

People need distraction. Sometimes they need to talk, they need advice, or they need help and action. But when someone needs you, and they can't find the words, talking of nothingness can be the best thing.

Y/N could be good at that, something Bucky never knew about her. And, something Bucky never knew he liked.

A silence fell over them, but not like before. Not the tense words-unsaid sort. But comfortable. She washed dishes and he sat on the floor.

She flicked her hands at the sink before drying them, Bucky wondered if she did that all the time.

"So," She said, "do you want to talk about it?"

The question might have been jarring to others, but to him it wasn't. Bucky just shrugged.

"I don't think so."

He didn't need to, he thought. This was enough.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to go?"

He was shaking his head before he knew it, and she smirked.

Not the spiteful one she used to adorn with him, but more of a cheeky one. One a friend might give to another.

"Alright. Do you want me to stay?"

He picked at his ratty blanket he had tucked beside him.

"Kinda." He thought before adding, "If you don't mind."

She checked her watch, "I've got nowhere to be."

She said something about a deck of cards, and went to search his house, which for some reason he didn't mind.

She found a deck, Bucky hadn't known he owned one.

"So, I'm gonna teach you how to play King's Corners, kick your ass at King's corners, and then we're gonna talk about this bed situation which is unacceptable..." she trailed off in her teasing, and Bucky found himself laughing more.

She did teach him how to play, and he ended up kicking her ass, which she claimed was beginner’s luck.

She stayed all night.

More nights like that began to happen, sometimes Bucky spoke and sometimes he didn't.

Sometimes they fought, most times they didn't.

The fights happened less and less. The all-nighters happened more and more.

And Bucky noticed more things he liked. More than her grilled cheese, more than her comfortable ramblings, and soon he found there were more things he liked than not.

She trusted Bucky to hold his own on the field, and he tried not to be as protective of her, letting her choose her own actions. They found out that was what he was afterall, and she realized she had been too.

She had been staying longer and longer. The next thing they knew, she wasn't leaving at all.

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes @emmabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns imagine

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ovaryacted · 1 month

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Might be a bit iffy because I don’t know if this leans into the omegaverse thing you mentioned in an earlier ask, but re2r Leon with a puppy kink, being embarrassed about it because he thinks it’s weird and then him and reader just slowly easing into it…fluffy smut I guess???

Idk I just say whatever random shit pops up into my head sometimes😭 (but also just re2 Leon reminds me of a scruffy little dog and I know damn well I’m not the only one) -🐏

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Hey, ram anon! So the omegaverse is different, involves genetic stuff with mates and the whole alpha, beta, and omega dynamics that people like to explore. Real Wattpad and Tumblr vets know what I'm talking about (that was a crazy time LMAOOOO). BUT, pet play is an actual kink that people have and I think that is what you're describing! Personally, I wasn't a big fan of pet play in a literal sense (because you live and you learn more about stuff so your opinion can change), and now I don't think it's so bad because there are many ways to mess around with kinks as a whole.

If it were up to me, pet play would be very fun, especially involving RE2R Leon. He gives pathetic puppy dog vibes and will always be at his partner's beck and call even if it comes off as embarrassing because he doesn't realize it's a kink that he enjoys. I think for him in particular, the whole dom/sub role exploration is what would get him off with the addition of a lot of praise.

It really starts with the pet names, where Leon would be praised for doing things he didn't think would actually matter. Doing a good job at work? You tell him you're proud of him. He's been doing good keeping up his routine? You remind him how good he is, and how taking care of himself makes you happy. He fucks you the way you want and makes you feel good? You praise him for doing that and call him a good boy for following your orders.

Leon doesn't realize that your ability to just acknowledge his accomplishments no matter how big and small makes him beam from ear to ear. It makes him feel good that you care about his presence in the first place, that you have this much control over his outlook on life. With every statement of validation you give him, he becomes more devoted to you, like a dog who has found their forever home. If he had a tail, it would be wagging from side to side, that's the best way to put it.

But when he finds himself more curious about why he likes your praising so much, he comes to terms with the fact that it's more than just you caring about him. To Leon, you are his escape, you keep him put together and grounded when the world gets to be too overwhelming. You have him wrapped around your finger and you know this, nor is he complaining about this fact anyway, that's what he wants, what he enjoys.

So when you come up with a proposition to help Leon figure out the best way to explore this new dynamic, he follows along, because he assumes you know best. Currently, he rests his head on your lap, your fingers running through his hair and raking through his scalp. It feels nice, better than good, and a rumble of a sigh slips out of him, reminiscent of a purr.

"That feels good baby?", you ask to him, and he can feel the tips of his ears growing hot at just the sound of your voice.

"Yeah, feels nice", he says with his eyes closed. He's trying to bask in your attention, in letting you pet or touch him however you wanted.

"Good. You can stay like that for however long you want", and of course, he's going to stay until he gets his fill. This was only the beginning of an introduction to something Leon would eventually need. Baby steps.

It takes a while to fully ease Leon into this new kink lifestyle. At first, he didn't think you'd be into it, would judge him for liking something out of the ordinary. But you're just as into it as he is, and it progresses the more you test the limits.

Now with his face in between your thighs, he licked at your cunt incessantly, lapping at it like his personal water bowl. Your hand remained in place at his head, holding him against you, and the other was curled around the leash that was connected to his neck. The suggestion of wearing a collar and leash in the bedroom would make some people raise their eyebrows, but not for you. You didn't expect Leon to be so enthusiastic about the idea, but the feeling of being yours was enough to make his body throb.

Leon's knees were planted to the floor as your legs slouched over his shoulders, his hands rubbing on the underside of them and pressing himself closer to where you needed him. The tip of his nose rubbed into your pulsing clit, his tongue caressing your inner walls as they clenched around him. Your hips moved towards his face, feeling him hum against you and whining when you pulled him away from your heat.

"How does that feel honey? Mama knows how to take care of her puppy no?", Leon looked up at you with hazy blue eyes, his tongue lolling against his plump lips and giving you a nod.

"Mhm, so good. Need more...please let me give you more", he nuzzled his face into your inner knee, placing a soft kiss to calm his own desires.

"Good boy. Make me cum and I'll fuck you after, a treat for being so good for me", the praise made Leon's cock twitch against his pelvis, your fingers pulling him back towards your dripping seam with a tug of the leash. He didn't waste any time, whimpering at the taste of your slick filling his mouth once more and his eyes fluttering closed again.

Anything to please his owner, anything to hear you praise him the way he craves. Being owned by you is where he belongs, ready to do whatever you said just so you can tell him he's a good boy, your good boy.

#ovaryacted asks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ ram anon 🐏

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nervousgardenerkid · 1 year

Text

Paper rings

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long oh my god. i planned to post this on valentine's day but shit hit the fan so bad and i've had to take my cat to the vet twice this month :/ and i had to get some people to make this dude leave me alone cause boundaries aren't a thing anymore apparently. ANYWHO!!! i hope you guys enjoy this! again sorry it took so long! credit to the gif owner!!

warnings: mean parents (mainly dad), not proofread (that's a warning itself), there's probably some cursing in here, angst to fluff!! no pronouns used! everyone is free to read :)

Your hands shook as you shoved clothes into your bag. You could still hear your parents shouting at each other downstairs but you didn't care, not right now at least. You bite down on your bottom lip trying to stop your own crying while they fought.

“That is our child! I will not have you kick them out!” your mom shouted.

“So you're okay with them running around with a drug dealer while we work our asses off to provide for them?!”

You flinch at the booming voice echoing through the house. They weren't supposed to find out like this, you're glad Eddie managed to run out of the house before your father could strangle him. You're standing at the top of the stairs watching your parents argue, your mom pinches the bridge of her nose while your dad continues to yell.

“We don't work our asses off so that they can fuck around and be delinquent!”

“I know…” your mom sighed.

“We didn't give away our weekends to work while they go out to get high and do only God knows what!”

“I know! Don't you think I know this?! But sweetie…they're young-”

“Young or not they're not to be seen with him ever again.”

“Don't I get a say in this?!”

Your parents turn toward the stairs shocked to see you down.

“Baby we said go to your room-” your mom started but was cut off by your dad.

“No, you do not get a say in this. You are going to your room to study-”

Tears well in your eyes as you shake your head. “Dad please-”

“No!” he shouted.

“You're not even trying to hear me out!”

“There’s nothing to hear! End of discussion!”

Silence falls over the three of you as you wipe away a stray tear that fell down your cheek.

“You can't stop me from seeing him. I won't let you.”

“If you see him again you can pack your things and get out of my house.”

Your eyes widened as your mom gasped out your dad’s name while her hands flew to her mouth in shock. You don't even bother to look in your dad’s direction when you grab the bag that was hidden behind your legs on the last step of the stairs. You miss the look of shock on his face as you brush past him, your mom following close behind trying to reason with you.

“Sweetie, go back to your room, it's raining crazy out there, your father didn't mean what he said.”

You stop walking, your hand on the door as you turn around to face the man that kicked you out of your childhood home.

“Say it,” you say through gritted teeth.

“He didn't-”

“Not you mom, I know you want me to stay but I need to hear it from his mouth.”

You feel hopeful when you see him make his way toward you but that all goes away when he opens the door and looks at you with sad and tired eyes.

“You can come back when you've come to your senses.”

You don't even bother hiding the tears streaming down your face as you exit the house quickly trying to get away from the shouts that were quick to reach your ears. You stood still on the sidewalk, the drops of rain mixing in with your tears as one thought ran through your head.

Where the fuck were you supposed to go now?

You don't remember how you managed to make it over to the all too familiar trailer park but you're grateful to have made it in one piece. Although it is late into the night, you don't hesitate to lift your hand up and knock on the door three times. While you wait for someone to answer, you wrap your arms around your body to keep your frame warm while you try your best to avoid the rain that's pouring from the sky.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

Your eyes shoot up to the voice at the door and tears well up again before you clear your throat.

“Can I come in Wayne? I-i’m sorry for waking you I-i just need-”

He gently shushes you and brings you into the warm home before closing the door.

“Stay here sweetheart,” he whispered while locking the door. “I'll get you a towel and wake Eddie up for you.”

You mutter out a quiet thank you but before he leaves he places a hand on your shoulder and looks at you with kind eyes.

“I'm not sure what happened with your folks, but you always have a home here kid.”

You give him a sad smile and watch as he walks away to get you a towel. Your eyes scan the all-too-familiar trailer and you smile when you see a picture of Eddie and Wayne hanging by the door. Your heart swelled when you saw how happy it looked with just the two of them, who knows? Maybe you'll be happy without your parents breathing down your neck and trying to control almost every aspect of your life.

You furrow your brows studying the picture some more. Although your parents were controlling you knew they loved you. All they wanted was the best for you.

Oh god, you think to yourself. What if this was a mistake? What if they were right and you shouldn't be hanging out with someone like Eddie? The town does talk and he doesn't exactly have the best track record. Maybe you should go home, maybe you should just sleep on this and maybe you can even convince your parents to give you some sort of freedom. The sound of someone stumbling down the hall breaks you free from your thoughts as you turn around to see what was the cause of the noise.

“Shit- ow,” Eddie grumbled as he hopped over a pile of mess in the hall. He stops in his tracks when your eyes lock with his and suddenly everything comes rushing back to you. The fight, you walking in the rain, waking up both of the Munson men.

“Eddie…” you whimpered out.

Eddie is quick to rush over to your side and wrap a warm towel around your rain-soaked body.

“Hey, hey, it's okay-”

“It's not okay Eddie!”

Eddie nods his head. “Okay, it's not okay, what's going on sweetheart? Why are you here so late?”

You stumble over your words. You try whispering, keeping in mind that Wayne probably went back to sleep but little sobs make themselves known from time to time. Eddie gently shushes you as he leads you toward his bedroom and sits you on the edge of his bed.

“Here, it's not much but it'll keep you warm,” he said quietly while placing the black sweatshirt beside you. You mumble out a quiet thank you as he turns around and lets you get changed.

“I'm done,” you whisper.

Eddie turns around and offers you a small smile before he lays down on the bed and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat next to him and lean back against the headboard, your fingers falling to play with the hem of the sweatshirt he gave you.

“So,” he said quietly. “Are you gonna tell me what brings you to my humble abode?”

You giggle and wipe away a small tear.

“Parents kicked me out.”

Eddie sits up quickly, his eyes are wide in shock and you're looking at everything except for him.

“Shit…I'm sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged your shoulders and finally laid down, bringing the blanket up to you. Your sore and stressed body is finally getting the much-needed rest it deserves. No wonder Eddie never shows up for first period, his bed is practically a cloud that lulls you to sleep without even knowing it. You were too busy fighting to keep your eyes open that you didn't even realize Eddie got back into his usual position until he asked you another question.

“Was it because of me?”

Your eyes snap open as your mind scatters trying to think of what to say. The last thing you want to do is make Eddie feel upset, but your silence was speaking loud enough for you.

“I get it if you don't want to hang out anymore. I don't have a squeaky-clean record like you-”

You laughed. “My record isn't squeaky clean.”

“Yeah because you met me.”

A familiar silence falls over you both and the tension in the air is thick.

“Are they gonna let you go back?” he asks quietly.

You nod your head. “Only if I stop seeing you.”

Eddie bites the inside of his bottom lip. He clears his throat and nods his head almost as if he's accepting that this is the last time he'll see you.

“I don't want to.”

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don't want to stop seeing you,”

A blanket of silence covers you both but it's different this time, almost as if Eddie is waiting for you to finish saying what you want to say. What you need to say.

“I like you, Eddie. I like how you made studying with you more than studying. It was fun, I found myself looking forward to seeing you every Wednesday after school.”

You bring your hand up to your lips and anxiously chew on your fingernails.

“I know you might not feel the same way, and that's okay. I just…I don't want to stop seeing you.”

“I don't want to stop seeing you either.”

Before you had time to let the words sink in Eddie had his arms wrapped around you, your body pressing into his. You feel his lips gently kiss the crown of your head as he gives you a little squeeze.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered.

You shimmied your arms free from his embrace and placed both hands on his face. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes at your warm touch.

“I want this. I want you.”

“Are you sure-”

“I want it all Eddie. I want all the trouble we're gonna face, I want to come home to you after a bad day, I want you to wrap me in your arms when you see me. I want this.”

Not even bothering to hide the smile that stretched across his face he tightens his arms around you again and gently nudges your head with his nose.

“You know,” he starts. “People are gonna talk when they see us. Word will get around and your parents will find out.”

You shrug your shoulders leaning up just a little bit to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Let them talk then. What are they gonna do? Kick me out?" a chuckle escapes your lips as you snuggle into his side.

"It's you and me against the world now Munson."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs with a smile.

"You and me.”

#stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

Text

🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons

18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.

Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies

Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions

|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller

First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.

This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*

Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.

See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days

The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc

Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!

Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon

Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple

This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.

Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages

Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots

She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.

De—stressed

As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands

You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean

This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.

Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.

Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…

“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”

“My clever, wise, beloved…”

Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it

Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood

Then get on with what needs doing

He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you

Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.

Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”

Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”

Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS

Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?

Ha, you won in the end

He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact

you prayed for that ok?

“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers

Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.

weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way

Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away

And she’s empty and scared to death for him

She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,

work and church and such are hopeless distractions

Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?

Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it

But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like

And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!

It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him

This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself

“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”

In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“

Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”

It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“

He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"

Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”

Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…

well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes

Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine

He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack

Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them

Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”

They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them

I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate

But once home:

The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever

He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-

You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune

I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.

*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*

This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages

Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself

He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth

He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all

So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked

But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?

Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war

Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…

Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.

even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before

he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted

So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land

because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…

I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes

Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely

“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.

“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back

he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow

She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*

Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints

the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right

All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids

They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves

Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress

I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb

*saves it for 50 years*

Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden

i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.

Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”

The last day together is a dismal and precious night

The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last

But HOMECOMING!

and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies

A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"

It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s

Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby

“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*

it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife

frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too

Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes

Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear

This man is a god at spooning sex

she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him

The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result

Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon

His war buddies become a new father support group

"Hang in there pal, only three more months"

They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck

As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.

Snow globes, y’all

Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts

Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)

He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is

This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”

It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions

Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe

He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him

Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths

He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least

Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating

His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.

Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway

The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth

Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?

Brushing their cute little Croz curls

Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them

Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"

But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:

Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously

There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times

this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there

Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids

It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen

Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest

Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere

Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to

But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters

Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood

"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"

They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment

Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts

Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair

They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs

Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer

She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her

When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket

She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly

Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs

Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA

And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)

They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.

There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)

When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.

not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)

Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?

“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”

In other words:

Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.

And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help

It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going

But still

Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #harry crosby #Harry Crosby fanfic #Harry Crosby x reader #mota headcanons #masters of the air fanfiction #anthony boyle #hbo war fanfic

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chokepoet · 9 months

Text

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

#Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #Gender Neutral Fanfic #Roman Roy One Shot #Roman Roy Fluff #Roman Roy Angst #Roman Roy Imagine #Roman Roy x Reader #Roman Roy x Gender Neutral Reader #Succession Fanfic #Succession Imagine #Needy!Roman #Insecure!Roman #idk what else to tag here???#help????#mine #kittens & perverts

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alwaysshallow · 6 months

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gorgeous, part 4

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

You decide to have some fun; you also talk to old friends. (3,3k)

READ ON AO3

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It's surprising how many times you see him, actually.

It's surprising because you thought – if you're lucky – it's gonna be after six months, on a check-up visit. Technically, he had no business to be here, especially considering how hidden he was, how he wasn't the type to chit-chat. It was okay, you didn't mind it.

And the day after he texted you, when you close clinic, you could see him right in front of the building, his hands in pockets, looking straight at you. It was a hypnotising experience though, especially when you walked in his direction, your knees like marshmellows, and he was still looking.

"Your mechanic was pretty nice." you said, tilting your head. "He said it's gonna be done in two weeks or less since he has work to do."

"Mhm." he matched your pace, walking with you side by side. "Finally doing something with it, aren't we?" he raised his eyebrow.

You laughed. "You make me look like I'm a bad car owner."

"Am I? Or that's just your thoughts?"

His comment made you open your mouth in pure disbelief at his honesty – you nudged him with before realizing how he could react at that gesture. He wasn't exactly a touchy-feely person, but there was no comment from him, so you were glad.

"Mean." you murmured, amused.

"'st speaking my mind, Addison."

"Uh-huh. That's why you're here? To speak your mind?"

He sighed, his eyes on the road in front of you. "You really like asking questions, don't you?"

"I like knowing things. Don't you?" you mimicked his low tone.

"I like knowing things. But I don't ask questions if I'm certain." he answered, straightening his back; a cracking sound that came out automatically made you shiver. "It's just walking you home. 's all, as I said, Sparkles would hate to have another vet."

"Right. Safety reasons, yeah?"

"Good girl. Learning so fast."

Motherfucker knew how to get to you – just after this comment, you had absolutely nothing to say, which made him visibly amused; his brow cocked, and he let out a low chuckle, looking away from you again. Thankful for the darkness, you just walked with him to start another topic after a while – about his cat, of course.

You had to leave 'good girl' behind, to not provoke him to say more because he could easily find out that nickname works for you perfectly. Especially if someone is British, especially if someone is just alluring as him.

And he had blonde hair. A bit curly. That's literally the recipe for a disaster.

After that interaction, he was walking you off to your apartment, day by day. It wasn't surprising after three first times – you just knew he's gonna be here, but you caught yourself looking for him, interested.

Not like you cared – at least that's what you told yourself – but it was curiosity speaking since you knew he was doing that just because of your car. Just because he somehow cared, just because he wanted to know you're safe.

Cute.

What was less cute though, you had to talk with Celia. You just had to and there was no excuse since your car already was in another mechanic's garage. And, Simon knew that you needed to talk with her, so he would ask about it eventually, so dodging the situation wasn't a plan, no. Not when he'd laugh the shit out of you, he did enough with implying you're not taking proper care of your car.

He had a point, though.

You took a few hours off in the morning, leaving Bernie on her own, just to see Celia – you even had your guilt cookies, big jar in your purse. It's not a surprise for anyone who knows you that you bake when stressed, and you certainly were stressed before this meeting. She could tell you anything; and it wouldn't be such a surprise if she'd tell you to go to hell.

A hope was there, though. Not only Simon said it, but when you thought it, it would be a real shame to ruin a friendship, running ten years, just because of a toxic guy that wasn't worth it. Not only that, your best friend had all the right to say I told you so.

You knew you kinda deserved that for being such a blind bitch.

Knock to her door came after a minute of staring dumbily at them, like it would help in something, or if she would magically open it without you knocking. It was a quiet knock though; shy one because, truthfully, you wanted to sprint from her house as far as possible. Confrontation? Not your best quality, no. Not at least in situation like these, when you know you have to apologize from the bottom of your heart.

A minute passed, and you knocked again, louder this time. You started considering walking away you thought maybe she wasn't home, but right after that, no one but Celia opened the door. Her eyebrows furrowed, arms were crossed against her chest, and you immediately knew what her attiude is.

Jesus Christ, it couldn't be easy, could it?

"Hi, Celia. Got a minute?" you asked; hesitantly. She could slam her door in your face, after all.

"Depends. You here because of the car?"

You sighed. "I'm here because I want to apologize, actually."

She seemed surprised as you said it; nonetheless, she let you in, leading you to kitchen. It was the main place of talks in her house, you could say that – not living room, not dining room, kitchen. Very big one, pretty, a table with two seats by side, so you sat there with her, clearing your throat. Wondering how to start.

How do you start conversation like that?

You had the simplest words on your mind. "I was a bitch." rolled off your tongue without even thinking. "I still am, though – but I was a bitch to you when I shouldn't have been. You wanted the best for me, and I just... well, I'm not proud of what I did. I should listen, not throw hands at you. It's not how it was supposed to be, it's not how I wanted it to be. Like, I know also that I should apologize way, way earlier, but-"

"Addie, c'mon." redhead interrupted you with a wave of her hand. "We're both bitches, we literally fought like fuckin' kids. Let me ask you one thing, you done?"

"With him?"

"Yeah, with that scumbag."

"Funny. You're the second person who talks of him this way" you mused, remembering this one situation with Simon. "Done, yeah. For five months right now."

Celia was silent for a moment, obviously analyzing the situation she found herself in; then, with a sigh, she looked again at you, her expression unreadable.

"Good to have your ass back on board, sister." she murmured, smiling a bit.

Next thing she did, was hitting your arm with such power that you let out a little 'ow', laughing with her in the same moment.

"Deserved." she pointed at you. "I apologize too, though. I could be better, I could just... well, tell you everything a bit differently. Not so harsh, you were in love with that prick." your friend muttered, rolling her eyes. "Okay, enough of apologies, though. Who said he's a douche, though? That person might be my second best friend."

So, you told her – almost everything, saving little details about his appearance or aura to yourself; Celia was a pretty fan of him, especially his snarkiness and comments. Yet, she was a bit jealous that you had the audacity to bring your car to other mechanic; mostly, she was jealous of the car, not you.

Her baby, as she liked to tell everyone. She picked it out for you from her uncle, repaired it, added some "cool shit" (it's a mystery what cool shit is, you didn't ask though).

Nonetheless, she was more than glad that you managed to find someone who's gonna help you with that, and you came to her purely to fix something between you two.

A friendship that – you promised yourself – would live through everything, no matter what would happen, no matter of circumstances. She was your person, just like Rosalie.

Who, speaking of, left million voice messages on your phone on your way back to clinic, so you considered it the perfect ocassion to listen to them all.

Apart from her excitement on your car situation, she invited you to her local bar for... a party. You didn't exactly know what party was about, or if it was just a casual hangout, but you agreed to go. It's been a while since you took a break from clinic and actually spent your night out, not under some blanket, watching movies with a bowl of chips or icecream.

Not like it was bad. Not at all. Sometimes you just needed a... change in your routine.

Rosalie promised to pick you up since your car was still at mechanic's – so, your only task was to look good, but not too good. Bar was something else than club; more casual, but you really wanted to at least flirt a little or to catch an eye on someone, even if your mind was... pretty occupied with certain someone.

Maybe your best friend would bring someone worth your time, yeah? She usually had some ideas and wanted to play as your little matchmaker, so you never knew what was coming.

That being said, you opened your closet.

It was almost embarrasing how many clothes you had that you didn't even wear more than one time; mostly, cocktail dresses for fancy ocassions since your parents insisted on buying something new. People of business, someone would say – always having a whim about their galas and shit like this, it was hard not to hate it, considering that business comes before family, mostly.

Maybe that's why you limited contacts with them, sending them a text or two of what you're doing, how's the clinic going. And, of course, Christmas with them or Thanksgiving was a must if they weren't on some fancy vacations abroad.

With a thought in your mind that you have to go through those dressed, you decided to pick something simple to bar. Black tank-top, a simple baby blue shirt on it (unbuttoned, of course) and a pair of simple jeans worked in your mind, as well as in reality, so you found yourself quickly putting on a pair of sneakers.

Your make up took a little longer; you paid attention to your skin, the perfect eyeliner, a delicate lipgloss bringing out the shape of your lips. Everything had to look effortless, even if it wasn't; your motto, basically.

As promised, Rosalie picked you up; and you've talked with her the whole road, almost two hours to be exact. You haven't seen her for two months straight and even if you were updating her as much as you could in a day, it wasn't even close to your sincere talks. She asked a whole palette of questions; how's your car, how's that Simon who rescued you from jerky ex; she looked a bit amused when topic was on him, but you had no idea why.

"Man that has good ideas is rare" she summed up, chuckling, when you catched her up with Celia situation and told her your car is going to be fine, you just have to pick it up in the next week. "Don't tell him that by any means. His ego wouldn't take it."

"Oh, you have no idea."

Soon enough, you arrived. Bar was cute; not too large, but with big-ass bar table and glass shelves behind it with amount of alcohol that you couldn't count, even if you wanted to. Dim, orange lights just added to the view, and you smiled under your nose instincitvely, happy that you've decided to go there.

Tables weren't occupied as you thought they would be; Rosalie mentioned earlier it's gonna be a private party, but you didn't think that private, considering that you could count like... maybe ten, eleven people. Military men with their significant others, as you saw when you walked up to the barman, ordering a drink for you and your best friend.

You couldn't obviously ignore that someone was discussing with MacTavish near you; seemed like a heated discussion, until they looked right at you.

Guy with a skull mask. Full-ass skull mask like Simon had this one day when you two...

Fuck, could it be him? Maybe he was in unit that wore masks like these, you thought. It would be a strange coincidence, wouldn't it? And, Rosalie for sure would tell you that her comrade is the guy you are talking about sometimes since he adopted a cat, Sparkles, yeah?

Rosa had her significant smirk when she looked at you, and it was all you needed to know, especially when men approached you both.

Trouble in a person, that would be on your best friend.

"He gets a bit shy around strangers. Ain't your fault" Johnny joked, nudging you with his shit-eating grin, as he gave his friend a look.

"Mm, I bet. Good to see you, MacTavish." you murmured, which made "stranger" roll his eyes and grumble something under his nose. "And what's your friends name?" you raised an eyebrow, making eye-contact with those brown eyes you wouldn't forget ever.

"His name-"

"-you know my name, doc." Simon said, interrupting Soap. He took off his mask with one, swift movement, to reveal to you his scarred face and disheveled, blonde hair that you wanted to dip your fingers in so desperately.

To say that Johnny was shocked, was the understatement; he looked at his comrade in shock, opening and closing his lips, like he wasn't exactly sure what to say, considering that he took off his scary mask.

"Didn't know you have friends in military."

"Apparently, we're both full of surprises" you sipped a bit of your margharita, shrugging, like you two meeting here was the most normal situation that could happen.

"You two know each other, no?" Soap meddled in conversation, observing you two. It was obvious that he doesn't really know how you two could met, and honestly, no one could blame him. He was in military, barely going out, and you were a simple vet.

You nodded. "We met, yeah."

"Oh, I'd really want to hear it."

"Simple help. Nothin' too fancy, MacTavish" he pointed out, taking a sip of his alcohol.

Soap's look was piercing in you, though. "Helped him with a cat. Simple, like he said." "Fuckin' cat? Ghost is a cat mom now, eh?" he chuckled, which made Simon roll his eyes.

You wondered if Ghost was something they named them in the field, and if yes, why? After all, everything always was supposed to fit. As Rosalie said to you, even if she couldn't tell you everything (classified, of course) every nickname had a meaning behind it.

Ghost... seemed ambigious. You couldn't put it anywhere.

"Better than you'd be, John. Let's drink, shall we?" you raised your eyebrow, trying to lead the conversation elsewhere; looked like your companion thought the same way.

Rosalie introduced you to rest of the team – they all told you their names, but you were sure as hell that you're not gonna remember that, considering your memory was shit, especially to people that you don't see often. Either way, they were nice; very nice, after a few drinks with them you were pretty sure that your platonic soulmate is Kyle Garrick, who was the best partner in karaoke. And, he was also such a gossiper, finding every ocassion that he could to talk to you about something.

Not military related, though; only "things for civilians" as he giggled to you after fifth shot of tequila, telling you something about a girl that he had eye on. Curiosity piqued in the moment he confessed that she was 'out of reach' for him, and it was no chance that he could get together with her.

Hell, for you "no chance" before even trying was non-existent. You loved to prove people wrong, to make them watch you accomplishing various of things just to rile them up, or to reach your goal.

"Don't say that" you pointed at him. "There's always a chance for something. You won't try, you won't know. That's it."

"It's the same chance, as the chance that Ghost will get any of us to that fancy gala. Non-existent." he groaned, burying dramatically his head in his hands. "And like his driving skills."

"Garrick" he murmured; low, rumbling voice made sergeant straighten a little. "'s enough talkin' of it, yes?"

You chuckled. "What gala? And what, your driving skills are that bad?"

"I have rather..." Simon played with glass filled with alcohol "...complicated relationship with cars, I'd say. I prefer walking."

You raised your eyebrow a little, amused; what does it mean his relationship with cars is complicated? You couldn't help but think, as you nodded your head with faked understanding. It was hard to believe that his ass in military didn't have a driving license, so it only meant that his ability to drive was...

Different, maybe. And for his own safety, as well as yours and anyone on the road, he picked out walking instead of driving. Smart, though.

"That's why you've walked me home."

"Affirmative."

"Walked you home?" Kyle looked at both of you in shock, laughing to himself. "Oh, fuck, man. So many things are happening on leave, ain't it?"

"Gaz." Price shot him a look.

"I can't even-"

"Gaz."

"Fuck, okay" he rolled his eyes, shaking his head to himself. "Just so you know, if Johnny wouldn't be so caught up in Ros, he'd back me up."

Your gaze automatically went to Rosalie, who talked with her bartender friend. Johnny, right next to you, was looking at her with slightly darker eyes, leaning his head against palm of his hand. It was... a view, honestly; friends, but not admitting to something more, even if everyone else saw their bond is beyond simple "best friends".

Something that you considered as cute.

You couldn't help but wish that they will be together soon enough; the way they cared for each other... Hell, probably everyone wanted something like this for themselves, as well as you; something so pure with longing glances that would make you weak in your knees.

A sigh of annoyance came out of you – where the hell you were supposed to find something like this when you spent most of the days in the clinic? Tinder or any portal like this wasn't even an option.

Mostly because you met your crazy ass ex here, but also you wanted to... hell, get past that online dating stage.

Was it too much to ask?

"Another round?" Kyle's voice brought you back to earth; you nodded immediately, standing up from your seat. "Captain, Ghost, you comin'?"

"Mm, no. 'm gonna make a call." Price shook his head. "You go. Another one will be on me."

You looked at Simon.

"I'll pass too." he murmured, coughing. "

"Oh, come on! You have to do one shot with me. Please."

"Addison-"

"Please?" you pleaded, extending an arm to him, so he could grab his hand. "Just one."

Simon sighed. "You're not gonna let it go, eh?"

"No, not really. I owe you for that mechanic, don't I?" you tilted your head, smiling a bit. "Come on. Please. Just one shot. Or one drink, anything, really."

He didn't say anything; just followed you to the bar with boys, while you babbled about your work, when Gaz asked what does exactly vet do, besides controls and all.

And it felt really good to feel Simon's eyes on you the whole time. How he keeps his rich, brown eyes at you, while you tried desperately to keep yourself together, just in case - because after alcohol, you were the touchy-feely version of yourself.

He had some time to learn it.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod fanfic #simon riley fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty ghost

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steddiehasmywholeheart · 9 months

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Happily Ever After

(TW/CW for typical sexist thinking)

When Beauty and the Beast comes out in 1991, despite the fact that El is almost 20, she decides she wants to go and see it with her and her family. She adored The Little Mermaid, and after the Family Video days, going to the movies is still something her and the party like to do together. And Steve loves it, because he gets to watch cheesy romance storylines without taking shit for it.

But at the tender age of 24, not in a long-term relationship, and still haunted by his days in school, Beauty and the Beast hits Steve a little close to home. He sees himself in the Beast, wonders if he'll ever find love, if he'll ever stop being 'too much' for people (because sure, he doesn't have the Beast's temper, but he is too clingy, his exes - yes, all of them - made sure to tell him, and that's without all the other stuff).

And it's not like he's hopped into bed with every viable option in the years since they finally killed Vecna, either. He's really only had 3 relationships in that time, carefully vetted and deliberated upon before even starting the relationship, because he'd known then what it was like to have his heartbroken, and he was not in a rush to repeat that. Besides, his kids came first, and there was a lot of rebuilding to do. But despite everything, none of his girlfriends had lasted, not between the secrets of the Upside Down, the head trauma, the nightmares, and his 'cloying' nature.

He leaves the theatre with an ache in his chest, but tries to keep a smile on his face as they all pile into the nearest burger joint and talk about the movie and life in general. Only Eddie notices something's off, quirking an eyebrow at him. Steve, of course, waves him off with a poor excuse for a smile.

When it's time for them to all disperse, Steve drives straight to his current girlfriend's house as previously planned, not noticing the worried look Eddie shoots his way. Steve tries to hide his mood from his girlfriend, tries not to hug her for too long when she greets him at the door, knowing from much previous experience that girls don't like it when you're not the strong one, but he just can't shake the feeling that he's being torn apart from the inside out. He just can't help but think about how Belle was willing to change for the Beast; adjust her expectations, adapt her behaviour, be patient with him, and communicate instead of sending him weird, incomprehensible messages then get pissed when he doesn't understand. Why can't he have that? Is he even worthy of that? Why the fuck is it easier to justify redemption for a fictional beast than himself?

But his girlfriend sighs, unfooled, and won't leave him alone until he's honest about it because it's putting a damper on her night. And Steve, unprepared and entirely lost, just stammers out: 'I just... I want Disney love, you know?'

His girlfriend snorts at him, tells him Disney love doesn't exist, and that he just needs to be a man and get on with it.

Normally, Steve would force a laugh, tell her she's right, bury his feelings and try to do just that. But tonight? Tonight it breaks him. Before he knows what he's doing, he's up and muttering 'I don't think this is working' and gets straight back in his car, barely hearing her calling his name, confused and angry and exasperated. He doesn't notice where he's driving until he's already pulled up outside Eddie and Wayne's house, bought with the hush-money from the government.

He shuts off the engine and just sits there, debating what to do. The truth is, Eddie is just as much his best friend as Robin - even more so, sometimes, just in a different way Steve can't explain. Eddie always knows when he's upset, and knows exactly how to hug him - which he does, regularly. Eddie know when to steer him outside if it's too loud and going to trigger a migraine, and seems to know when he needs to eat, even though Eddie himself can barely keep himself fed. And Steve knows just when Eddie's going to get overstimulated and needs to be given something to focus on to calm him down, or when Eddie's had a bad night with nightmares, and needs someone to fall asleep with on the phone, just to know someone's there with him. He knows just when Eddie needs someone he can talk to about his new campaign, because everyone in work would complain so much if Eddie rambled on there. And Steve enjoys listening to him, so why wouldn't he encourage Eddie to speak to him?

They're best friends. And right now, he needs one of Eddie's hugs. It's just he's not normally so pathetically desperate when he turns up.

The decision is made for him when the front door opens and Eddie leans against the frame, a knowing smile on his face, practically screaming 'well, are you gonna come in or what?'. And even though he fights it, Steve can't stop the tears from welling as he gets out of the car and throws himself straight into Eddie's open arms.

"Whoa whoa, hey big boy, it's okay," Eddie soothes, bringing his arms around him and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure as sobs bubble up in Steve's throat.

"That's it, let it out," Eddie adds, and fuck does it make Steve melt.

Somehow - Steve really doesn't know how - Eddie gets the door closed and brings him to the sofa, manoeuvring him until Steve is curled up on his chest, face pressed into his neck, just safe and warm and whole in his arms, despite feeling so broken. And eventually, when Steve's calmed down enough to sniffle his way through an explanation, Eddie's warm hand in the centre of his back pulling too-honest word after too-honest word out of him, instead of laughing it off or being cagey as he normally would, Eddie's there, blowing out a breath, saying 'That sucks man,' and calling his girlfriend a bitch. Well, ex-girlfriend.

"She's not. Not really." Steve mumbles. "She's probably right, anyway. Disney love doesn't exist. I just- I just want someone that wants all of me, you know? Why show us that on screen if it doesn't exist in real life?"

"It does exist, man," Eddie says, but his tone is off. It's... sad, somehow. Like he's in pain. Steve blinks at him, and within seconds, a blush is covering Eddie's cheeks.

"Er, I just mean that it is out there, and you'll definitely find it," he says, tone now too bright and too enthusiastic.

".... But." Steve prompts.

"No, no buts. You can have it, and I'm sure you will!"

Steve tilts his head to the side. "Okay... so why did you sound.. like that?"

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair - Steve never understood how his rings didn't catch in his curls.

"I, well, it's just that sometimes... the people who could love us like that have wanted to for a long time, and we've never noticed..."

Eddie's biting his lip, his voice trailing off into nothing, and legs practically vibrating with how fast he's tapping them. And Steve can't breathe.

"Eds?" he croaks.

"It just sucks that you're straight," Eddie forces out a laugh. "Because, assuming you'd be happy with a freak like me? I'd... gods Stevie, I'd give you everything."

Steve stares at him, at the bright pink of his cheeks, the deeper red of his lips (that are going to get darker if he keeps biting them like that), at the hair he's always been just a little bit obsessed with, and feels warmth and hope bloom where air should be.

"Eds... who says I'm straight?"

It's absolutely not what he expects to come out of his mouth. He'd never questioned his sexuality, even when Will and Mike finally got together. But now, how can he know he's anything but? It's like all the stars have magically aligned and suddenly, a new path has been made clear to him. The one he should have been on years ago.

Eddie's eyes snap to his, and Steve still cannot breathe, drowning in the hope, the fear, the devotion there. He wants to whimper. Almost does.

"Wh- what?"

Steve swallows. "For you, Eds? I'd be anything."

And it's different this time. Saying those words. He's used to them being a promise to become something he's not, to put everyone and their needs ahead of himself. But with Eddie, he knows he's never be taken advantage of like that. That Eddie would do exactly the same for him.

Eddie's hand cups his cheek, the callouses from his guitar sending tingles down Steve's spine, and Steve wants to cry all over again as Eddie whispers, hesitant and hopeful, "Be mine?"

Licking his lips, Steve swallows past his thumping heart.

"For forever, and happily ever after."

#my posts #steddie #tw sexism #light sexism #but sexism all the same #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie au #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington

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gingerjolover · 7 months

Note

going to need a blurb or mini fic of moments where juliens slight accent slips cause it’s the hottest thing

oh boy this is gonna send me to the MOON

i have two main theories but i am open to discussion and am willing to write a longer fic about this because the southern twang can not be contained

Julien's accent comes out in two scenarios, hella sleepy or hella horny. we've all heard it occasionally on stage, but i think it's when she's talking really fast or really slow that you notice it and it's never like very drastic unless she's playing it up

like you're laying in bed, it's super late, y'all were busy all day just cleaning the house and taking the dogs to the vet, she made dinner, maybe you baked something, and after a long bath, both of you are just stoked to be cuddled up in bed together. Your legs are intertwined, her boxers are crumpled and her hand is under your shirt, you're both watching tv and she rolls over into your neck, her lips attaching to your skin, sucking softly, "so warm’n soft pretty girl," in the most country ass accent you've heard from her. you can't help but giggle. she just lifts her head out of your neck and hovers over you, "what?" with her little twang, and you're pushing her hair back, rubbing her cheeks just shaking your head because she's so. cute. she huffs annoyed because she knows you're laughing at her but a sleepy smirk crosses her face before she just lifts your shirt and dives in.

I think this is a similar scenario but she's waking up, her hands rubbing all over you, kissing anywhere her lips can reach with her eyes still closed, she's like half asleep trying to push your pajama bottoms down. "Mornin’ princess," she mumbles in a thick tennessee accent.

horny!julien would lean into, okay? i mean full like "save a horse, ride me instead" vibes, like you're getting home from dinner or an event and you both are giggly, just drunk on each other. She has you pushed up against the front door, her hands literally down your pants, her fingers rubbing your clit as she's licking up your neck, "so wet sweet girl, you gon' be good for me, huh?" she's mumbling in a raspy voice, her accent thick and heavy against your neck, slipping two fingers inside you.

and when you get to bed, she gets you naked, leaning over you just staring at you, her eyes glazed over, "look how pretty y’are..." she breathes out, kissing your knee and moving up your thigh. She flips you over eventually, making you straddle her before grabbing your hips, "Come on princess, y’know what they say... save a horse..." just being the cheekiest little shit because she knows you drip for her accent and she uses it to her advantage.

bonus: she definitely asks while you're in the middle of literal sex, literally could be rubbing against her fully in your element and moaning, and she's like "babe...baby...go grab my cowboy hat..."

#anon cutie #julien baker x reader #julien baker blurb #boygenius #boygenius blurbs #we love julien in this house

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paleprincessturtle · 8 months

Text

Closed

Hi, peeps! Please excuse any inaccuracies in my writing. Enjoy!

Summary: Harvey closed yet another deal. So, what's new?

Warnings: Nothing

"Where the hell were you?" Harvey barges into your office, unannounced, and with such force. You slide the pamphlet you’re reading underneath a pile of documents in front of you and hope to God that Harvey didn’t realize your abrupt movement. "Where the hell were you, and what are you hiding? Answer the questions consecutively," Harvey says sternly while looking you dead in the eyes. “Okay, so umm." You paused and realized how Harvey was looking at you skeptically. You have to pull yourself together. You can speak in the middle of a courtroom with such elegance, determination, and confidence. But Harvey Goddamn Specter strips it out of you.

" The answers to questions one and two were correlated. " Harvey sighs, "then starts answering. Smith was my old client, and I know how long it takes to get from his house back to the office. You took almost 3 hours and blew me over in our meeting.” Shit. You forgot completely about the meeting. You were supposed to be in this meeting with Harvey hours ago. “So, pray tell, where were you and what happened?” Harvey sits himself down on a chair across from yours. "Like the initial plan, I went to Smith’s place to drop the final contract. I was about to go straight back here until I saw something just on his doorstep." You bite your lips, contemplating how you should proceed with this story. Harvey nods his head, encouraging you to continue. "I saw a black kitten, alone.” You see Harvey’s eyebrows draw closer together. "So I took him to the vet to make sure if he’s okay and all.” Harvey’s lips turn into a straight line. "You bailed from our meeting for a cat?” You flinch at his tone. When you choose to work for Pearson Specter in the middle of dating Harvey, you know that he won’t always be your boyfriend. You know there will come days like this when he is nothing but your boss. And you know you are in the wrong for this. "I’m sorry, Harvey. It won’t happen again. My emotions got the best of me, and I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry." Harvey sighs and leans back on the chair. "Where’s the cat?” Harvey asks. Again, you bite your lips and point at the corner of your office. Harvey follows where your finger points, takes a solid 5 seconds to look at the crate with a sleeping black kitten inside it, and looks back at you. You start before he says anything: "I won’t have any meetings with anyone in my office today. And you didn’t even realize he'd been there since you got into my office, right?” Harvey just stares at you. "Don’t let something like this happen again. I wasn’t only pissed because you hung me dry in our meeting; I was worried about you too. I’ve insisted you should take Ray.” Harvey stands up, and you find yourself following his movement as if he were your client. You get more nervous under the scrutiny of your own boyfriend than all your clients. He can be intimidating when he needs to be. He starts to walk for the door before you say, "What about the kitty?” Not only do you ask for his existence here, but you also subtly ask if you can bring it home. Harvey stops and looks like he’s contemplating his choices before he looks back at you. "Bring the cat home until you find the cat an adopter. Talk to Louis; he likes cats.” Harvey leaves you alone, sad about his answer.

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

It’s 7 p.m. when you turn off your laptop and decide to finally go home. Timmy, the black kitten you found earlier today, is still sleeping soundly in his little bed. You grin, looking at him. You have to admit that you already love this cat. You replay what Harvey said to you, and your heart heaves at the option you have. No, you think to yourself. You’ll fight Harvey, so he’ll let the cat stay. You’re also a lawyer yourself anyway. You sure can wiggle around to get something you want. You call Ray to help you bring down the crate while you walk down the hallway to go fetch Harvey. The room is dark, but you see Donna still at her desk. You lean on her desk, and she smiles. "Where’s Harvey?" you ask as you peek inside, trying to find any sign of him in case your eyes deceive you. "He didn’t tell you? He went to Atlantic City to close a deal after lunch," Donna says as she studies you. Harvey always tells you everything. "The Blanchard case?" you ask, and Donna nods. "Why didn’t he tell you?” Donna asks; all are curious. "I ditched the meeting we had. I was supposed to go back to the office after I dropped a document, but I saw a kitten," you pause as you shuffle around to grab your phone. "This is Timmy, the kitten in question.” You show your phone to Donna, and she smiles. "He was all alone?" and you nod. "I took him to the vet and forgot I was supposed to be Harvey’s number two at that meeting." You put your phone back inside your handbag. "He went all Boss Harvey on me, not that I blame him. But he told me we couldn’t keep the cat." Donna looks at you and smiles again. "We all know how he deals with emotions. He was more worried about you than you missed the meeting. You huff and nod, "Yeah, we all know he’s trying," and you smile weakly. "Just go home after you’re done, Donna. I gotta go home and get Timmy situated in the house." You wave her goodbye as you walk to the elevator.

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

Once you get home with Ray bringing the crate inside and all, you sit by the kitchen and try to listen for any sign of Harvey’s arrival. He won’t stay out for the night; he was mad, but he’ll get home. You know that. After jolting out notes on your current case, you hear a ding outside from the elevator. You close the file and run to the door, ready to welcome him home. He opens the door to you, smiling. He looks tired but smiles once he sees you grinning. "Welcome home," you say as you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a kiss. "What an excellent service," Harvey whispers, his lips touching yours. "I’m sorry about today," Harvey says as you lead him inside. "If anything, I’m the one who is sorry. About the meeting, about making you worry. He stops both of you in the middle of the hallway and kisses you. You smile against his lips, take his coat off, and walk further inside. “Harvey, look," you say as you point near the couch. "You’ve found an adopter?" Harvey asks as he takes the mug of warm tea you offer him. "I’m thinking of keeping him here.” You say it carefully. Harvey sighs, as he takes your hand and leads you to sit with him on the couch. He sits you down as he faces you. "We can’t keep him, baby.” You instantly pouted at his words. "Because you know both of us are busy. A pet is a big responsibility.” Harvey explains with a stern voice, trying to make you see reason. "But Louis had Bruno,” you said defensively. "Bruno died because Louis was too busy to realize he was sick. And why do you think he hasn’t got another cat yet?" You see where this is going. "I want you to be happy, and you know that. But a cat with our work schedule right now will be quite hard, don’t you think?” As you look down at your intertwined hands, tears threaten to escape. You really do love Timmy. “Remember, we made a promise; once we marry and decide to start a family, we’ll lessen our workload and move to a bigger place. We’ll have more time then. And we can have 10 dogs and 20 cats.” He cups your cheek for you to look up at him and smiles as he wipes the tears from your cheek. You see his reason and just nod. Harvey kisses your forehead before saying something about a bath and bed.

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

Harvey sighs as he looks at the time on his phone. 2.30 am. He looks down at you, sleeping soundly. He carefully untangles you from him. He walks to the kitchen and retrieves a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He chooses to work for a bit as he opens the door to his home office. He’s deep in some files when he sees a movement just at the door, and he snaps his head up. He cocks his head at the sight of the cat walking inside his office. The cat uses the chair across from him to climb up to his desk. The cat sits down, looking at Harvey. Harvey has no choice but to look back at the cat. And so the staring contest begins. Harvey looks at the little creature and contemplates how much this cat can make his girl happy. He believes a cat won’t require as much care as a dog. He remembers the tears and the pout on his girl’s face when he said they couldn’t keep the cat. He remembers how she was an only child and never really had a friend growing up. He petted the cat in the head. The cat looked cautious at first, but then he closed his eyes and purred. "Okay, bud. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll make our girl happy, you and I. And in return, you’ll get the best care this world has to offer, deal?"

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

Note: Feel free to send me a request! Thanks!

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fan fiction #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x reader #suits harvey specter #suits tv

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mynameismckenziemae · 3 months

Text

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 5

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake takes you on the date he wishes he would’ve all those years ago.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (m receiving), etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s phone vibrates on his nightstand as he gets into bed.

🐓: So? Did you talk? Was I right?

Jake: Yeah we talked.

🐓: And?

Jake: …you were right.

🐓: HELL YEAH! I fucking knew it! You could cut the tension between you two with a knife. Did you…you know 😏

Jake: I want to take her out on date first.

🐓: Where are you gonna take her?

Jake: I don’t know, kind of limited with the leg. I just want it to be special.

🐓: Where did you take girls for dates in high school? Do that with her.

Jake: We’d pick up food at the local car hop, park somewhere to eat then fool around in my truck bed.

🐓: Sounds…great?

Jake: 🖕🏻there wasn’t much to do for teenagers around here back then. But honestly, I think Charlie would love it. I’d have to ask my sister for my truck back though. She takes care of it while I’m gone for me.

🐓: Emma? She’s a 10 🥵

Jake: No.

🐓: She single yet?

Jake: She’s not interested.

🐓: So she is single.

Jake: I’m going to bed.

🐓: You realize I’m going to meet her at your wedding, right? You’re just putting off the inevitable.

Jake: Goodnight Bradshaw.

Jake smirks at the thought. Bradshaw probably thinks Jake’s just being a protective older brother but it’s just the opposite. Emma looks like a sweet southern belle but she would eat him alive.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

He hesitates before biting the bullet and texting Emma; he’s always been a little scared of her.

Jake: Hey Emma Lou.

Emma: Hey! When did you make landfall? Everything go okay?

Jake: Almost 2 weeks, and not really. I was hit on the way back to the carrier and had to eject. I broke my leg and got a little beat up on the way down. I left the hospital forgetting Ma and Dad are gone so I’m staying with Charlie. They don’t know yet, please keep it that way. You know how much this trip means to them. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, my head was a little messed up and just didn’t want you to worry or take time off from that new job.

Emma: WTF!?!?? That’s fucking bullshit, Jake. I’m a large animal vet with 2 partners that are happy to cover for me. I wouldn’t have had an issue getting off of work and you know it.

Jake: I do know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.

Emma: No shit.

Emma: Are you okay?

Jake: Getting there. Charlie’s been doing my PT, I saw ortho and that’s healing okay. I have a video visit with a therapist tomorrow.

Emma: Therapist?

Jake: Diagnosed me with PTSD after the accident. I’m feeling better already but if I don’t go to therapy they’ll ground me longer.

Emma: The Navy grounding you will be the least of your worries once Mom finds out. I’m not gonna be the one telling her.

Jake: Thanks. I really am sorry. Any chance you’re coming this way in the next few days? I need the truck if you don’t.

Emma: How are you gonna drive it? Not sure how bad you hit your head but you need 2 feet for a manual.

Jake: I’m not, Charlie’s going to.

Emma: Did she get new furniture and not tell me?

Jake: No…it’s a lot to text. I’d rather tell you in person.

Emma: I’ve got a sick heifer to see in the morning but otherwise I’m free. I’ll be there around 11. I think Lee’s got a vet call in the area around 2 so I’ll see if he’ll take me back home so you can keep the truck.

Jake: Sounds good. Love you.

Emma: I’m still mad, but I love you too.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s up before you and has a cup of coffee waiting as you stumble into the kitchen with a yawn.

“Don’t make plans tonight. I��ve got something in mind,” he says, leaning on his good leg before pulling you into his chest.

“Mmkay,” you yawn, snuggling into his chest like you’ve always wanted to with his hugs. “Can’t wait.”

“I told Emma last night, she’s going to come over around 11 so we can talk,” Jake cringes.

“Will she be gone by the time I get back?” You joke, all too familiar with her temper.

“Why? You scared?” He teases.

“Yes. I know you are too,” you laugh.

You let him hold you for a few minutes, both enjoying the intimacy.

“I’d ask you to join me in the shower but that’s an accident waiting to happen,” you smile, pulling away from his chest to press a kiss to his lips.

His eyes fall closed at your words. “Soon enough.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake stares at your butt in your scrubs from the porch as you walk to your car. You catch him looking as you open the door and quirk a brow at his sheepish grin.

“Can’t figure out if you’re wearing underwear, I didn’t see any panty lines.”

“You don’t get panty lines if you wear a thong,” you wink as you get in, laughing at the way his eyes widen.

You’re normally a no-show underwear kind of girl, but you felt like wearing something sexy today when Jake said he had plans.

You give him a little wave as you head to work.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake had just finished his virtual visit with the therapist when Emma pulls up in his grandpa’s old Chevy that he and his dad fixed up together.

Emma gives him a bone-crushing hug before smacking him upside the head.

“Ow,” Jake grumbles, rubbing the spot she hit him.

“You deserve a lot more than that. You’re lucky you’re injured,” Emma says before bending down to greet Cash.

“So why does Charlie need the truck?” Emma asks, throwing Cash’s ball.

“She doesn’t. I’m taking her out tonight. Well, she’s driving but I’m planning it.”

“Taking her out where? Why do you need the truck for that?”

“Ray’s and then up to Breakneck Hill,” he responds, not looking at her.

“Isn’t that where you used take your dates to park?”

“Yep.”

It takes her a minute to catch on, but she jumps to her feet with a whoop when she does.

“Seriously?!” She laughs, “Man, it’s about fucking time.”

He looks at her puzzledly.

“You’ve been in love with each other for years,” she sighs. “That’s a great idea though. I just washed ‘er so the bed is clean. Want me to throw some blankets back there for you?”

“I didn’t think that far, but yeah, that’s a good idea.”

20 minutes later, Emma’s got the back of the truck filled with blankets and pillows, a perfect place to eat and watch the sunset.

“Perfect! Now you have a place to stretch out and bang. Do you need condoms? Wait no, forget them. I’m ready to be an auntie,” Emma says as she steps back to look.

“Uh, no. We haven’t-I mean, we aren’t-“ Jake stutters, flushing bright red.

“I’m kidding, Jesus. Don’t stroke out on me. Got anything for lunch?” Emma laughs, patting Jake on the shoulder, right where he’s bruised.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Emma wraps his cast and stays nearby just in case he falls while he showers.

“Lee’s almost here,” Emma says, giving Jake another hug. “Let me know how it goes. And tell Charlie I’m not mad at her, just you.”

Jake rolls his eyes but hugs her back. “Will do. Thanks, Em, love ya.”

“Love you too, don’t forget to forget the condoms!” She replies as she heads out the door.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You smile when you see Jake’s old truck in the driveway, wondering what he’s up to.

Jake’s asleep on the couch when you get inside, but he wakes up when you close the door.

“Oh hey, sorry I must’ve fallen asleep after Emma left,” he yawns.

“Let me change and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek and slipping off your top as you walk down the hall.

Jake sgets down the stairs and hobbles along to the driver's side of the truck, awkwardly opening the door for you.

“You want me to drive? I don’t think I’ve driven it since you got too wasted to drive at Clay Williams's graduation party,” you laugh, climbing up.

“Ugh, I can’t even smell Jäegermeister without gagging,” Jake shivers as he closes the door.

You lean over and open the passenger side, taking the crutches he hands over. He surprises you with how easily manages to get in with one leg.

“Where to?” You ask, pushing in the clutch and starting the truck.

“Ray’s,” he answers with a smile.

“Then to Breakneck to fool around?” You guess, wiggling your brows.

He nods. “Only if you want to, we don’t-“

“I want to. I’ve always wanted to,” you reply, leaving out how jealous you’d get when he’d take girls out there.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

An hour later you’re sharing a chocolate milkshake in the back of the truck. It’s just the two of you in the empty lot.

“I wonder what my mom would think of us being together,” you say as you watch the sunset. The sky is a beautiful canvas of pinks, oranges, and reds.

“I think she’d like it,” he replies.

A flicker of movement catches your eye and you hold your breath when a butterfly lands on the hand that’s holding yours. It rests for just a moment, slowly flapping its orange wings before flying away.

“Me too,” you whisper.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“So what’s next? We ate our burgers, shared the milkshake, and watched the sunset. Is it a dry handjob while you rub me through my underwear for 10 seconds then ask if I came?”

“How’d you know?” He teases, leaning in for a kiss.

He kisses you slowly and lazily, committing every sigh to memory. As his tongue flicks yours you can’t help but imagine it elsewhere.

You soon grow impatient and find yourself straddling his lap again.

“Jake, touch me. Please?” You pant.

“‘Course sweetheart. Here?” He asks, pulling the top of your sundress down, exposing your braless chest to him. “Damn, Charlie,” he rasps, looking over your breasts hungrily before sucking a hardened bud into his mouth. His fingers come up to pay attention to the neglected side and he alternates; biting, sucking, and pinching you into a frenzy.

You find his free hand and bring it under your dress, running his fingers over the soaked material of your thong. He shudders when he feels the evidence of what he’s doing to you.

Before his fingers even touch you without the barrier of your underwear, you cry out, your fingers in his hair pull; your orgasm taking you both by surprise.

“Did you cum?” He chuckles breathlessly against your chest as you come down.

“I did,” you smirk, trying to catch your breath too as you climb off him, then unbuttoning his jeans. “Your turn, but I want to get my mouth on you.”

Your eyes widen as you pull him out. “Jesus. Not sure if you’ll fit, but I’m gonna try.”

“That’s not…I didn’t know that was an option-oh fuckkkk,” he gasps when you pull his tip into your mouth.

Your eyes drift closed and you moan at the salty taste of his precum. More you think as you swallow and suck more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke his base.

He’s making the hottest, most desperate sounds as his chest heaves. It hasn’t even been a minute before he’s warning you. “Char-Charlie, wait sweetheart. I’m gonna cum,” He pants, gently tugging at your hair to pull you off.

But you shake your head and moan; you want to taste it.

“Oh…oh God,” he whimpers as he finishes in your mouth, jolting when he feels you swallow his spend.

You pull up the top of your dress after you release it from your mouth and gently tuck him back into his jeans. He surprises you when he pulls you up for a deep kiss, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue.

“You’re…that was…holy shit,” Jake chuckles. “So much better than a dry handjob.”

You laugh before pulling him back in for a kiss.

You’re so wrapped up in each other that you don’t notice the squad car pulling into the lot.

The smug voice of the local police officer over the megaphone has you jumping apart.

“Keep it in your pants ‘til you get home, Seresin. Don’t make me call your mama.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: First date ✅

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

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@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

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@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw

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