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swordsandholly · 5 days

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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thewanderingace · 1 year

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Well today has just been absolute shit and I am depressed and going to bed now.

#not only did i not get the job i so badly wanted and was counting on #but both of my famikies cars broke down and it'll cost over $1000 to fix just one of them #im fucking depressed #stephs stuff #personal #delete later

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

Text

Finders Keepers

"Do not forget that the new groundskeeper is scheduled to arrive today at noon. I expect everyone to be courteous and to clean up their nighttime rubbish before his arrival," Alfred reminds them as they struggle to sit through breakfast.

Last night's patrol was brutal, and everyone was a bit bruised up and sore, not to mention that most only got an hour or so of sleep.

They collectively groan- except for Bruce and Damian, but neither count as full humans anyway, no matter what their DNA says otherwise.

Tim, in particular, is rubbing his hands down his face. "But Alfred, today's my only day off for the next six weeks!"

"I fail to see how your poor time management will change the outcome of doing your chores, Master Tim," The butler states. Tim cowards instantly at the sight of that arched brow on his grandfather's face and melts into his seat.

Pleased, Alfred taps his wristwatch. "You all have three hours. Better get to it."

They scatter. Bruce runs to his office to clean up all his paperwork, knowing some purchases were not Wayne Industries. Jason hits the multiple garages to ensure nothing bat-related is thrown in the toolboxes.

Dick is swinging by the handlers, taping his hands along the beams and pulling out hidden gadgets. Cass and Duke are walking on the roofs, double-checking the boobytraps.

Steph and Damian have offered to patrol the Batcave and the connecting tunnels to ensure the motion sensors are active.

Tim is told to walk along the property and make sure no surprise holes will appear. Bruce fell into the cave system when he was young, so the new groundskeeper might have the same fate. It's the more leisurely job since Bruce obsessively checks since it happened, but they all know Tim can barely keep his eyes open.

Tim doesn't mind because he must pat his bo staff on the ground, stomping his foot ever so often and scanning the environment with his wrist computer. He doesn't even bother to change out of his pajamas- an old pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt Kon lent him when he once slept over and never returned. It's mostly just a walk, but it feels like an entirety to his sleep-deprived mind.

His eyelids are heavier than usual, every blink feels like a bag of sand, and he still has to check at least three-thirds of the Wayne Manor grounds.

He is wandering towards the east side of the property when he finds a very convenient bush shaped perfectly to block the sun and offer him a tiny nooch to snuggle into.

He glances back at the house and then at the time on his wrist computer. He has two hours and twenty minutes before the groundskeeper arrives.

"One short nap," Tim mutters, getting on his hands and knees to crawl into the bush. He twists to lie on his back, using his jacket as a pillow. His whole body fits inside, so Alfred will likely not catch him. The scrub is soft, and Tim relaxes into his protective shade. "I'll get up in a bit."

The wind blowing through the trees and the bushes around him lures him to sleep.

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

"Hey"

A voice cuts through his dream of jumping over the city, chasing after his family but maskless. They weren't running around the roofs fighting a good fight; the Waynes in his dream were just spending time together. Laughing. Goodnaturely teasing.

It's wonderful.

It's everything he's ever wanted.

It's slowly disappearing as he is coming back to consciousness.

Tim groans, trying to roll over and return to the dream, but the voice speaks again. "Hey, man, you can't sleep here."

A hand clamps on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Tim mutters, weakly swapping it away. "No. No. No."

"Come one, man, I can't have the big boss see you. It's my first day, and I don't want to get fired because I let some guy sleep in his yard." The voice continues, sounding pleasing and guilty.

Tim whimpers, rubbing his face against the cold hard ground. "No. No. No. Please, I just want to sleep. I'm not hurting anybody."

"Ancients....okay. Okay. Listen, I will let you sleep a little longer while I work. I'll finish mowing the yards and trim all the bushes. That should be at least five hours. I must move you if you're still here when I return."

Tim doesn't answer, too busy slipping back into his sleep as a hand gently runs through his hair. He snuggles into the warm palm with a sigh.

Someone gulps. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

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

Tim snaps his eyes open to see that everything is pitch dark. Oh crude!

How long has he been asleep? What time is it? Was Alfred going to kill him!? What was he thinking?

Of course, Alfred would kill him, and unlike Jason or Damiman, the elder would not fail. In fact, from what Tim could make out in the darkness, a man was standing over him wearing white gloves.

He found me! Tim thinks historically. I didn't even have time to run!

The white gloves move closer as if they were going to touch him. He leaps up with a scream, and a man falls over.

"Woah! Woah! Hey, it's okay, I'm not a cop!" The stranger- not Alfred- shouts. Tim pauses, then lets out a louder scream. The man rushes forward to slam his hands against Tim's mouth.

He glances frantically at the manor- it's too far away to see anyone since Tim chose to nap at the very edge of the vast land Bruce's ancestors purchased.- before hissing. "Could you keep it down? Look, I let you sleep long enough; you must move."

Tim blinks owlish at him. His mind is fuzzy- shit, was he hit with something last night? He couldn't remember.- but he thinks he knows him.

Dark Hair.

Blue Eyes.

Pretty facial features.

Oh, it's one of his brothers. Dick? Yeah, it's Dick. Has to be. Tim is sure. He can't think clearly now, but he knows his eldest brother. This guy has the same color eyes. It's him.

Does Dick know he is Tim's brother? Does he know who he is?

"Dick," He tells the man in jeans overalls, just in case he forgets his name. His brother frowns.

"I know. I hate to do it, okay? But you can't sleep here."

"I can't?"

"No, dude."

"Where can I sleep?"

Dick sighs. "I think there is a shelter that-"

"Take me home."

Dick pauses, taken aback. "What?"

Tim leans forward, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "I'm tired. I want to go home."

"Where do you live? Is there someone I can contact for you?" Dick asks in high pitched voice, seemingly uncomfortable by Tim's closeness but too bad. Tim never gets enough hugs, so he must deal with it because he wants hugs now.

"No, I want to go home with you!" He whines, and the world starts to spin. Quickly closing his eyes against the nausea, Tim tries to hide further into Dick's shoulder. "Take me home with you."

Dick is quiet for a long moment before he slumps. Carefully, he reaches up to pet Tim's hair, and it's so comforting that he almost falls back to sleep. "I'm going to regret this, but something in my core tells me to do what you say. You wouldn't happen to know a Clockwork, would you?"

Tim shakes his head.

"Right. Okay, taking a homeless stranger I found in the Waynor Manor bushes. Seems on-brand to me. Let's go."

Tim follows.

Who was he following? He doesn't remember, but when he climbs into a van with the words "Phantom Groundskeeping," he doesn't feel worried.

In fact, once he's buckled in, head leaning against the window and pulling his legs up to his chest, he feels oddly protected. The driver of the van is also beautiful.

Like wow. Talk about a work of art.

"I love you," He tells the man, who laughs, flickering blue sad eyes at him.

"Thanks. Take a nap. I think you should sleep off whatever your on and then I can get you some help."

"Do you love me too?"

"....sure. Go to sleep now."

"Will I die?"

"What?"

Tim can feel the word fading away, which is terrible; he knows it is but can't remember why. He just knows that when it disappears, he'll never wake up again. He tells the stranger as such, voice just barely above a whisper.

Glowing green eyes snap to him in alarm, and a small breath of blue leaves the stranger's mouth. Tim thinks he's slowly gaining a hint of horror, but his body begs him to sleep.

Tim blinks once, then twice, as the stranger's mouth opens and closes before he snaps his eyes to the road. "What a time to go mad."

The diver's grip on his steering wheel tightens, but Tim can barely keep his eyes open, so he can't see the gorgeous stranger's face as he whispers. "No. I won't let you die. Just....just sleep, okay? I'll figure it out."

Tim does.

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

"Crap!" Jason yells, running up the stairs from the Batcave. In his hand are the test results for the standard toxicity screening they all undergo whenever they fight someone who even remotely deals with drugs.

Everyone was too tired to look at them properly, which means they all missed that Tim's blood was covered in what looked like a blend of Poison Ivy's love pollen and some kind of sleep-inducing strain.

Tim is out there, somewhere tripping balls or cuddling up to a stranger or unconscious, slowly slipping into a coma. They all thought he bailed on his work and deserved a day off so no one bothered to go after him.

Now Tim could be dead.

He rounds the large hall, his stomping footsteps barely covering the sounds of Alfred's smooth voice.

"It seems the groundskeeper is asking for a week off already. He just got married and-"

"Crap! Crap! Crap! Bruce!" He shouts, slamming the door of his dad's office open. His grandfather and father both turn sharply to him, and neither misses the paper that Jason throws. Their eyes widen in horror when they read what's on the report. "We need to find Tim!"

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

Jazz wakes to find a half-dressed stranger curled around Danny, a ghost contract with drying blood on the ground, and a hastily made banner that reads "Happy Elopement!" thrown on the wall.

The living room looks like a confetti bomb went off in it. Did she miss a party being hosted in her own house? While sleeping in the room next door?

Johnny- her ex and surprisingly good friend after he stop bothering her brother- is sitting cross-legged, eyes glued on the TV.

"What. The. Fuck." Jazz asks, walking over to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Johnny replies without so much as turning around. Since Jazz helped plan his and Kitty's wedding, the ghost becomes a brother to the Fentons. "Danny eloped."

"I figured as much by the banner." She mutters, walking over to the couch his brother and her new brother-in-law occupy. She stares at the stranger. He looked....familiar?

"Yeah, don't know all the details, but I guess his hubby was dying, so Danny pulled a Ghost King contract out of his ass and saved him by passing on his healing factor after they were hitched," Johnny says. Jazz takes a sip of her coffee. "I think he thinks he can divorce him or something. But till death due us part doesn't apply to Halfas. They're married forever, even in life or death."

"Shit." Jazz sighs. "Danny got himself into another situation. And he was doing so well recently, too. Became a groundskeeper for the Waynes and everything."

"Waynes pay well?"

"Danny could have paid off my student loans in four paychecks."

"Damn." Johnny whistles. Just then, Kitty floats through the wall wearing a red bathing robe. Jazz will never get used to the fact ghosts could look so human in the morning, with their messy hair and dazed expression. "Morning, babe."

"Morning," Kitty mumbles, leaning down to kiss Johnny. She glances at Danny and smiles. "They're so cute. I'm so happy Danny found his Core Mate."

"Core Mate?" Jazz asks.

"Like a soulmate but more dead," Kitty explains. "They are scarce to find, but once your core finds what it wants, it's fated. That's probably why Danny married so quickly, even if it was to save a life he normally wouldn't have."

Jazz looks back at the boy wrapped around in Danny's arms. Her brother is holding him like he's the most precious thing in either world, even in his sleep, and she knows that no matter what she or anyone says, he's not going to give up- wait a minute.

The stranger moves slightly in his sleep, snuggling up against Danny more, and his hair falls out of his face.

Shit.

"That's Tim Drake. Danny stole away Tim Drake." She deadpans. "Danny went over to cut Bruce Wayne's yard and returned with his son to elop with."

"In one afternoon? I'm impressed." Johnny laughs. "He really said all services included."

"Don't be gross, Johnny," Kitty scolds, but she's smiling. Jazz just shakes her head, reaching down for the contract. She may as well read what kind of dead-brain idea her baby brother got involved with this time.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Finders Keepers #dead tired #trigger warning: Druged #Tim get hit with Poison Ivy's pollen #Different Povs #Danny was just trying to do his job #Tim was just trying to nap #Now they married #Danny did in fact think he could marry him pass along his powers though the marriage then divorcé him #Kitty and Johnny are the friends always staying over and munching off your coffee

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adhdslugcrimes · 10 months

Text

Jason, in therapy: Dick is the golden child, I could never come close to his level of perfection nor be a good son my second time around... Not that I hate him for it, kinda hard now since he's there to support me, made me come to therapy.

Damian, asked who's the good child: well it's Richard of course, he's what I inspired to be.

Tim, talking about the greatest Robin: he started and set what every Robin should be, it's insane how he adapted to this lifestyle!

Cass, asked who's her favorite sibling: I don't have a favorite but Dick is one I can count on for anything, he's a good brother.

Steph: oh I know goodie two shoes won't do anything that would be anywhere near stealing, come on Wally, stop lying.

Duke: I don't think Dick can do anything wrong, I might be signal but he's the light of Gotham so I can't believe he's done anything wrong, I mean he ran away but that was mostly Bec Bruce hurt his feelings. No, I think the only thing he ever did anything wrong in his life was maybe stepping on an ant, he's a good guy and an amazing big brother, dramatic as hell but still a good guy.

Dick's good child times

Bruce, at his last straw: the Geneva Convention was not a checklist for your war crimes! You're 8yo, you shouldn't be a wanted man by the government!

Dick, sassy pants: correction, one I'm a wanted child, okay. Two, I didn't use it as a checklist, I added onto that list. I improve that list.

Bruce: your a wanted criminal, you set a man on fire!

Dick: whatever geezer, can you leave now I'm doing my homework or now it's an issue for you

Bruce: it is now, you are grounded, no, your beyond grounded your... Your forever grounded!

Dick: wow, you went to a the best college out there and the best you come up with is "forever grounded", why I'm even studying at this point if you're supposed to be smarter than anyone in the world.

Bruce: you're a nightmare.

Dick: and you're losing to an 8yo, now tell the government to shove it where the sun doesn't shine and leave me alone.

Bruce: I'll... I'll forbid you to see your friends then, ha whatcha going to do about that one.

Dick: leave to see them like always, just like I do to do my "crimes". This game getting boring, take the lost.

Bruce: this isn't over young man!

Dick: uh huh, yeah.

#dick grayson #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cass cain #cassandra cain #duke thomas #i love that Bec be mellow out siblings thinks he's a innocent man #when in fact he's a war criminal the government couldn't find #his file there siblings read it and only Dick and Bruce know that's his file

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astorianyxkings · 6 months

Text

One of my favourite things to think about is Jason being a mean big brother to the batlings but a shy little brother to Dick.

Tim asks him if he wants to go with him to blow something up and he's super excited but in that annoying little brother way so Jason just grunts "No. Get lost baby bird." And goes about his day as normal.

Damian tries to get him to practice training with katanas like back in the LoA days and he ruffles his hair and says "No demon brat, go bother Dick." Damian swears he'll catch him off guard, Jason flips him off.

Cass wants Jason to sit down with her and watch a movie. Normally he could never say no to his sister but the other day she claimed to be older than him so he's got an ego to protect. He pats her on the head, assures her he adores her and then tells her he'd rather die (again) than binge My Cousin Vinny.

Steph chases him around because Cass is pouting and Tim's recruited her to blow up the warehouse but she has this really nice shade of purple that would look perfect on Cass but now she needs a new test subject. "Just one hand!" Steph yells throwing a well aimed pillow at the back of Jason's head. "No way in hell blondie." Jason huffs, dodging it.

Maybe he should just leave the manor? Solid plan right? Wrong. Duke, having well adjusted to his new life as a Wayne, let's himself into the safehouse Jason's in and asks for help on this case because "Look I know Black Mask is just using the diner as a front. Help me out here." Jason's having none of it, Duke is old enough to be lovingly scorned like the rest, "With all due disrespect, piss off." He tells him, patting him on the back and leading him out of the door.

What he doesn't count on is all of them telling on him. Not to Bruce or Alfred, no. To Dick.

Jason finds this out when he shows up to Dick's apartment asking for a second pair of eyes on a case and Dick sharply cuts him off with a simple "No."

He's flabbergasted because Dick loves him? Dick's his big brother? Why is his big brother rejecting him? He's gonna need a whole therapy session on that alone.

Jason pouts and sulks and goes back to his apartment and Dick rolls his eyes. He loves his brother, really he does. But he needs to be humbled every now and then.

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #tim drake #duke thomas #dick grayson #Bruce knows what's going #he comforts a pouting Jason

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hinacu-arts · 10 months

Text

Finally found a moment to work on FFPS. Heres a little excerpt

“Fenton.”

Both Dannies turned around. “Which one?” Tucker asked.

“Daniel.”

The Dannies looked at each other. “Which one?” they said in unison.

Damian was clearly getting frustrated. His face scrunched up and his voice tone was clearly annoyed, “How do you usually differentiate yourselves?”

The Dannies started listing off names as they counted on their fingers.

“Danny-with-a-Y,”

“Dani-with-a-I,”

“Boy-Danny,”

“Girl-Danny,”

“Him,”

“Her,”

“The tall one,”

“The shorter one,”

“The older one,”

“The younger one.”

Damian remained frustrated, “I am not calling either of you either of those names.”

“Well, we both respond to ‘Dannie’ or ‘Fenton’.”

“But that does not resolve the issue.”

Dani tilted her head, “Why do you not want to call us ‘Dannie’?”

“‘Dannie’ is a nickname, which would imply we have a closer relationship than we have.”

“What if you called one of them ‘Fenton’ and the other ‘Daniel’?” Steph suggested.

“Fair warning,” Tucker spoke up, “neither of them like to be called ‘Daniel’. Like they really don’t like it.”

“But that is their name, why would I call them anything else?” Damian looked genuinely confused.

“Call me by a name I don’t like and I’ll call you by a name you don’t like.”

“Ditto.”

Damian crossed his arms, “I insist you allow me to call at least one of you ‘Daniel’.”

Danny crossed his arms to mirror Damian, “Alright, Ian.”

Steph tried to smother her laughter. Damian was outraged. Tim had never seen his face that red before. Damian opened and shut his mouth a few times in shock before he found his words, “That is not my name.”

“Sure thing, Dames.” Danny was grinning.

Damian stood up, “I demand you call me by my proper name!”

“Hmmm… maybe we should call him ‘Dami’ instead?” Dani suggests.

“No!”

“How about ‘Day’?”

“No. ‘Amy’?”

“‘Dameron’?”

“You’ve started a war you cannot win,” Tucker sighed and slumped in his seat.

“‘Day-Way’? Because ‘day’ in Damian and the ‘way’ in Wayne.”

“Day-Way, Daway, D-Way- no. Dwight.”

Steph was howling with laughter now.

#hinacu wip #fenton foley protection services #dp x dc #damian wayne #danny phantom #danny fenton #dani phantom #serious chaos

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reminiscingtonight · 4 days

Text

Creepy Crawlers

Lia Wälti x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s quiet on the drive over to practice.

Despite your occasional attempts to engage Lia into conversation, the Swiss midfielder resolutely stares out the passenger side window, lips turned down and set into a frown.

When you finally pull up to the training grounds, you’re hoping things have blown over a bit. You give her a goofy grin, but it quickly turns into a grimace when Lia ignores your presence and shoulders past you into the training facility.

You’re like a lost dog when you trail behind her into the locker room.

Everyone notices the rift between the two of you instantly.

“Oi, what did the missus do today?” Katie laughs, though the laughter quickly dies on her tongue when she receives a frosty glare from the Swiss.

The Irish woman turns around to you, eyes wide as she mouths ‘what did you do?’ Everyone knows that Lia’s the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. So for her to outwardly express her displeasure?

You shake your head, turning towards your own locker.

It’s stupid how something so small can spoil your own mood. You’re used to morning kisses, arms wrapped around your lover’s on the way in. You’re used to morning coffees basking in each other’s presence, the occasional joke at your expense sprinkled in here and there. Lia’s never not given you the attention you crave before practice, and it’s absolutely ruining your day.

Your eyes are downcast when you trudge onto the field. Teammates from all sides of the field are steering clear of both of you, not sure what’s gone on to cause such a distance between the Arsenal “it” couple.

Leah, on the other hand, has no qualms getting deep and personal. While everyone else tries to pretend nothing’s going on, your best friend throws an arm around your shoulder, ignoring your mumbled “get off.”

“What did you do?” Leah gives you a nudge, nearly sending you sprawling forward.

There’s a second where you think about not answering.

But you’re so sad. And your heart really can’t take it anymore.

You’re willing to take any advice given, even if it comes from a 27 year old child.

“We have an uninvited guest living with us right now.”

Leah tilts her head, eyebrow raising in question.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Lia found a spider in the shower this morning,” you explain.

“And?” Leah questions, not seeing the connection.

“Well she wanted me to kill it.”

Your best friend frowns. “I thought you’re afraid of spiders.”

“I am! Lia still thinks I should take care of the uninvited creepy crawlers though.”

There’s a moment of silence as Leah looks you up and down. Clearly she can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but one look at the longing glances you keep sending over your shoulder to Lia, Leah’s more than convinced that the two of you are ridiculous.

And she tells you exactly that.

You roll your eyes when she does, but Leah instantly gets suspicious when you wipe the annoyed look off your face. Hand tightening around Leah’s arm, you lean in close to her, giving her your best smile.

“Any chance you’re free tonight?”

“Depends.”

“Are you willing to get rid of it for me?” You bat your eyelashes at her, hoping to sway her into helping you.

Leah snorts, shoving you away. “Nope. Have fun with that.”

Lia ignores you the entire day.

You try saving her a seat at lunch. She grabs her tray and drops into a spot beside Steph, not sparing you a glance.

You approach her to ask if she’d like to be your spotter at weight training. She walks right past you and plucks Kyra away from Alessia.

No matter how many times you try catching her attention, Lia simply turns her back to you and walks away.

By the end of the day you’ve had it.

When the girls are all changing, getting ready to head home, you make a quick pit stop. You thought long and hard about it, not really wanting to go to such extremes, but at the end of the day you’d rather have a bruised ego if it meant doing what’s best for your relationship.

Lia’s standing by the car when you finally emerge from the locker room. Her arms are crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she waits for you to arrive.

It’s habitual, the way you instantly reach for the bag on her shoulder, holding it in your own hand as you open her car door for her. The way Lia doesn’t stop you has you breathing out a sigh of relief, thinking you’ve finally broken through to her.

Oh how you’re wrong.

When you purse your lips up, expecting the kiss she always gifts you before slipping into her seat, you instead receive a hard stare before the door slams shut in your face.

Sighing, you trudge to the back of the car, popping up the trunk to place both of your bags in.

There’s an underlying tension when you start driving home. From the corner of your eyes you can see Lia’s jaw still clenched tight, her eyes steadily focused somewhere off in the distance. Even changing the radio station to the type of music she likes can’t break the frown on her lips.

It’s so stifling and all you want is your girlfriend back.

As the minutes tick down and you get closer and closer to home, you know you have to break the air. You have to give your girlfriend a word of warning in the slim chance you guys don’t make it home first. There’s really no good time to say it, but there’s an annoying smirk playing in the back of your mind, the conversation you just had still ringing in your ears.

As casually as you can, you hum out: “So I invited Caitlin over later.”

It’s a bit worrying how quick Lia whips her head towards you. Her hand slams against the stereo, shutting off the music. Silence fills the car as Lia’s eyebrows draw together, mouth opening and closing a few times in confusion. “Caitlin Foord? Like my ex-girlfriend Caitlin Foord?”

You nod, nervously swallowing.

“Why?” She sounds bewildered and a little bit concerned all at the same time.

You groan. “Babe, I am not killing that spider and it’s obvious you aren’t going to either. We both know Cait is more than happy to help us deal with our uninvited guest.”

“Well won’t that be… weird?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Why would it be?”

Lia gives you a look like you’re stupid. “She’s my ex.”

“We’re all adults here, Lee,” you roll your eyes, internally laughing at the face Lia pulls at your response.

“Okay, well it’s up to you.”

You shrug. “As long as you don’t break up with me over this, I think I’ll be fine.”

A beat passes as you cruise down the street.

Another beat passes as you turn the corner.

Then,

“Well now that I think about it--”

Lia has to hide her laughter when you slam on the breaks.

#lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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goldenwilliamson · 4 months

Note

Could you do one with leah x reader where reader is a new signing and she catches Leah's attention and Leah, all cocky, asks her out repeatedly, but the reader was warned about Leah's fuckgirl fame and always turns her down, but obviously ends up falling for Leah in the end, pure fluff please ;)

Pd: you write soo goooodd

bad idea right? | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

a/n: thanks for the ask!! i had fun with this one. reader is australian obviously inspired by kyra's signing after the world cup, but with a very different vibe to KCC's annoying little sister energy hahaha. also this is an ideal world where ACL's don't exist and leah was in training at the start of this season.

summary: reader signs at arsenal and leah has her sights set on her, but reader tries her best not to let herself fall for leah.

word count: 2.9k (got a little carried away with this, but i loved it)

When you got your call up for the World Cup, you had expected that some clubs might take an interest in you, along with all the other younger Australian players who hadn’t yet gotten the chance to play in such a large tournament. What you didn’t expect however was that the club you grew up supporting would be making a deadline day signing for you. When you heard that Arsenal were interested after the World Cup, it was just the cherry on top of what was the most surreal experience of your footballing career so far. Obviously with Steph Catley and Caitlin Foord already being at the club, you had felt entirely comfortable about making the transfer. You had already been playing in the WSL for a few years, but you’d always told yourself that if Arsenal ever came knocking, you would go there without a doubt.

Being such a fan of the club and playing against Arsenal in the past, you already had preconceptions about many of the girls. Before you had your first training, Steph and Caitlin had come over to your new flat to help you settle in and put together some furniture, and you took it as an opportunity to get all your final questions out of the way. You had already spoken to them endlessly about the culture of the club for the players, but you hadn’t spoken too much about the other girls. All that they had told you was that you would fit in well with the team, and that was good enough for you at the time.

But now that your time for actually joining the team was getting very close, you decided you wanted to learn more about some of the girls you would be spending the majority of your time with for the foreseeable future.

‘What’s Kim like as a captain?’ You asked first, and both Steph and Caitlin sung her praises while explaining that underneath her hard front is a big softie who wants the best for everyone.

‘I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous about not clicking with anyone,’ you said next.

‘I can’t imagine you ever not getting along with anyone,’ Steph said, ‘You hit it off with everyone you’ve ever met.’

‘True, I reckon you and Leah will get along well but,’ Caitlin adds.

‘Really?’ Your voice is higher when you say this, a little surprised.

‘Oh yeah, she’s going to love you. She’s already spoken to me about how she’s excited you’ve signed,’ Steph says and you feel very flattered. Leah is a player you’ve admired for years, and a defender you’ve dreaded coming up against in games. Even though you’ve played against her, you wouldn’t expect her to have noticed you, let alone be excited about you joining the team which she cares so much about.

‘What’s she like?’ You ask, genuinely curious.

‘She’s somehow managed the perfect balance of being super fun and lighthearted, but also stern and serious,’ Steph says.

‘Is she single?’ You find your mouth moving before your brain has the chance to tell you not to say that. Both Steph and Caitlin laugh at your forwardness, but they don’t seem all that surprised.

‘Leah is undateable, she meets a lot of girls, but they never stick around for long,’ Caitlin says truthfully, and for a moment you feel a bit of disappointment.

‘Because she’s not a good person?’ You ask, unsure about why no girls would want anything with her. In your eyes she’s a catch.

‘No,’ Steph says quickly, ‘She’s an amazing person, she just doesn’t want them to stick around for long, it’s always more of a one night thing for her.’

This surprises you, and it does make you see her a little differently. In the media she seems very mature, being the England captain and all. You can’t really imagine her going out, meeting girls, and having one night stands, but then you remember you really don’t know the girl at all.

A few days later you arrive in London Colney for your first training session of pre-season, carpooling with Caitlin and Katie. You’d already met Katie a few times now, which made your arrival feel a bit smoother. You don’t take it for granted having Steph and Caitlin around to welcome you and make sure you’re connecting with the other girls.

Before you go into the first meeting of the season with Jonas, you get to meet all the other girls. While someone might find this overwhelming, you are unbelievably excited to finally be introducing yourself and meeting all these players you respected so much.

Everyone greets you warmly with a hug and kind welcoming words. When you approach Leah she flashes you her fantastic smile and you can’t help but mirror her expression. You keep in mind but that she is used to being able to charm girls, and you try not to fall victim to it.

‘Hello, mate. I’m Leah,’ she says in her relaxed voice, giving you a hug hello.

‘Hey, good to meet you,’ you say.

‘Likewise. I’m so glad you’ve signed, you’re going to be a great addition to the team,’ she says and you thank her graciously, feeling good knowing you have a little bit of support behind you, from Leah Williamson of all people.

From your first meeting, you can see what everyone else sees in her. She’s a beautiful girl, there’s absolutely no denying that, and she carries a confidence that radiates off of her. It’s both incredibly attractive and intimidating at the same time. You know immediately you can’t let yourself go down the rabbit hole of developing a crush on her, because you know all too well that it would consume you completely. So for the first few weeks at the club you don’t spend too much time with Leah. You don’t avoid her, because you don’t want to be rude, but you don’t let yourself go as deep as you normally would want to. Usually when you find yourself around someone attractive you’re asking questions, trying to get to know them. You decided the less you knew about Leah the better.

You didn’t realise that Leah had noticed the way you hadn’t been giving her as much time and attention as you’d given some of the other girls, and the way that you had bruised her ego. One day Leah and Jen were peddling on the exercise bikes in the gym next to each other while you ran on the treadmill on the other side of the room. Leah watched you like a hawk as you took your long, easy strides.

‘She’s great isn’t she?’ Jen said, following Leah’s line of vision.

‘Oh god yeah, she’s gonna be our secret weapon going into this season,’ Leah says without a beat. She’s been watching you every day, witnessing how well you’ve managed to establish yourself within the team already, earning respect from all the players. She would be very surprised if Jonas didn’t start you in the upcoming games, because you're the perfect number 9 that the club has been needing.

‘Lovely girl too,’ Jen observes and Leah nods.

‘I haven’t gotten to know her that well, I don’t think she’s too interested in me,’ Leah says, and even though she tries to hide her contempt, Jen reads her like a book.

‘Finally someone who’s not interested in you, whatever will you do?’ The naturally sarcastic Scot makes fun of Leah’s obvious dissatisfaction with her ability to have you in the palm of her hand.

‘Shut up,’ Leah pushes her shoulder.

‘You’re seriously crushing on her aren’t you?’ Jen says.

‘I wouldn’t call it a crush,’ Leah scoffs. She would never admit to having a crush on someone, it’s not in her nature at all. When it comes to dating she has always preferred to be detached and aloof.

‘What would you say then?’ Jen asks.

‘I guess you could say I’m intrigued by her,’ Leah says, immediately cringing at the way it sounds coming out of her mouth.

‘Alright stalker, don’t go following her home now or anything,’ Jen says, unable to contain her laughter seeing Leah in this new position. As Jen makes this comment you step of the treadmill and pull off your headphones and Leah quickly shushes Jen.

‘How was the run, Y/N?’ Jen calls out to you from across the room, and you smile, striding in the direction of her and Leah as they continue to peddle.

‘Yeah not too bad,’ you nod, ‘How are the bikes treating you guys?’

‘I think I zoned out watching you running over there,’ Leah says, and you don’t know whether or not to interpret it as a flirty or not.

You laugh lightly and shake your head, ‘Glad I could be of service.’

‘You do look proper graceful for someone doing sprints,’ Jen says.

‘Well now I know who to come to when I need a pick me up, thanks girls,’ you look at them both, your ego boosted. You had no clue how you looked running on the treadmill, but you couldn’t have imagine it was anything impressive, or graceful. You tell the girls you’ll leave them to it as you turn to walk out of the gym, thinking over Leah’s little comment for quite some time.

A few days later you’re invited round to Beth and Viv’s place for a little dinner. It’s not a huge group there, just yourself, Steph, Caitlin, Leah, Jen, and Kim Little. Despite being one of the younger girls in the squad at 24, you’ve found yourself feeling most comfortable around the girls a little older than you like Jen and Beth. Even Viv who was notoriously introverted had made an effort to get to know you.

The night is lovelier than you could have expected, chatting with all the girls with ease, like you’ve known them all as long as you’ve known Steph and Caitlin. At one point you decide to go into the kitchen to refill the water jug, and when you’re standing over the sink, Leah slips into the space with you.

‘What are you after?’ You ask casually.

‘You,’ Leah says and you turn around to look at her with a confused look on your face.

She’s leaning against the kitchen bench, eyeing you confidently, but you’re determined not to let her work her ways on you.

‘Whatever for?’ You ask innocently, turning back to watch as the water fills the bottle in your hand.

‘Why’ve you been avoiding me?’ Leah says as you flick the tap off. To buy some time you rest the bottle on the bench and grab a tea towel, wiping off the water that spill down the sides of the bottle.

‘I didn’t realise I had been,’ you shake your head, not looking at her as you lie through your teeth.

‘Maybe it’s in my head then,’ Leah shrugs.

‘Maybe, but I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you enough attention,’ you say sarcastically, knowing that your words would cut deep for a girl who usually has her ways with girls.

‘That’s alright, why don’t I just take you out for dinner, that way I’ll have you all to myself,’ Leah suggests and you scoff.

‘Sorry, as fun as this is, it’s not really me Leah. I’m not interested in being another notch on your bed post,’ you say, and while you might feel rude saying this to anyone else, you feel like you could chip away at Leah’s ego all night and she would remain confident as ever.

Leah sighs with a smile on her face, ‘Worth a try,’ she says and you two walk back to the table, acting like nothing ever happened. Jen Beattie is the only one who catches the smirk on your face and the ever so slightly defeated look on Leah’s.

She tries again a couple of days later after training, asking what your plans were for the night.

‘Going home,’ you say, stating the very obvious fact after a long and tiring training session.

‘Want some company?’ Leah asks. While you would’ve said yes to company, feeling like anyone being around was what you needed to settle into your new home, you knew you couldn’t say yes to Leah.

‘Uh, not tonight, I’m going to go home and fall into bed,’ you say.

‘Tomorrow then?’ Leah offers and you shake your head at her persistence.

‘You’re relentless,’ you say, smiling at the cocky look on Leah’s face. Slowly it’s getting the better of you.

‘I prefer the term driven,’ she says and you laugh.

‘Don’t let me stop you, it’s doing wonders for my confidence,’ you say.

‘Oh don’t worry, I won’t,’ Leah assures you as you part ways walking towards your cars. You ignore her once again, but of course she occupies your thoughts the whole drive home, and the rest of the night.

There is even a moment after you eat your dinner that you consider asking her to come over, knowing exactly what would happen if she did. You groan out loud, realising that she had already won this battle. That’s why the next time she tries her luck, you fold.

It was the perfect setting, all the Arsenal girls and the Matildas that lived around London were out at a bar celebrating Caitlin’s birthday. Leah was of course locked in on your every move, and you knew it. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was already looking at you. It was driving you crazy, making you feel all hot and bothered. As if dancing was the cure for your overwhelming feelings, you remained among the girls throwing their hair and arms around to the music.

A classic ABBA song comes on and Leah makes her way into the people moving on the dance floor, subtly making her way towards you. It’s unsurprising when you feel her hands on your hips, you’d been waiting for it at this point. The music is loud in your ears, drowning out any remaining inhibitions. You turned to face Leah with a look of defeat, as if you were forfeiting to her. You let your arms fall around her neck as she stabilises herself with her hands on your hips. She leans in close to speak directly into your ear and you can feel her breath on the top of your neck, sending a small shiver up your spine.

‘You’ve been driving me nuts,’ she says, giggling slightly with her admission.

You lean into her now, planting a tantalising, gentle kiss on her neck before murmuring, 'I still don’t want to be just another notch on your bed post.’

Leah pulls back and looks at you with a face that tells you that you can believe her when she shakes her head, ‘This isn’t about that, I just want to know you.’

‘Do you say that to all the girls?’ You ask, still harbouring some slight concerns about Leah’s notoriety when it comes to her sexual partners.

‘I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time,’ she says. Even though you really don’t know her all too well, you know her words are genuine, and you know that you feel the exact same way. There was no denying the chemistry between you both, and the similarity in your personalities. You remember the way Caitlin and Steph had predicted you two would get along, and you know it’s true now.

‘Me neither,’ you tell her honestly, and you can see from the grin on her face that it was exactly what she wanted to hear.

‘How about we get out of here and go find some food,’ Leah suggests and you nod eagerly, dying to step out into the fresh air with her to speak freely without trying to talk over the music.

‘Great idea,’ you say. With that you and Leah say your goodbyes, not feeling too guilty about leaving as it was nearing midnight already at this stage. When you step out into the night it feels like you’re back in the real world, and your feelings about Leah were still very much there.

She takes your hand in hers and leads you up the street and the two of you walk until you find some fried food to sink your teeth into. You talk the night away and get to know Leah behind the persona she has created. This Leah is endlessly caring, a listener, a deep thinker, incredibly witty, and much more vulnerable.

That night you two end up back at your North London flat to save her the trip out to her house in St Albans. To your surprise, you don’t sleep together, but you’re pleased with that. Part of you was still waiting to see what Leah’s intentions were, and she proved that she really did just want to spend some time with you. You were happy to give her your attention now.

’You’re nothing like how I expected,’ you admit to her as you lay face to face in your bed, your legs stacked on top of each other.

‘Better or worse?’ Leah asks, smirking at you in the darkness of your room.

‘Better,’ you say with a smile, leaning in to finally kiss her properly. It’s gentle, but there is clear passion behind it. You hum, satisfied as you pull away, ‘Definitely better’.

#leah williamson #awfc #leah williamson x reader #lionesses x reader #woso x reader #woso community #arsenal women #woso

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