#smashes tea mug | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barefoothighlander · 8 months

Text

never going back again - 04

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, oral fem rec, creampie, mention of scars, sad (i’m sorry)

prev part masterlist

a/n: it’s finally here besties sorry it took so long, anyway this is it, you get an alt ending post but then the fic is done :( that being said if anyone wants any one shots that revolve around this fic send reqs

“It’s done” The words come through heavy breaths as he stands in the doorframe, his dark shirt clinging to his body as his eyes shamelessly roam over your form, curled up in the couch with a book pressed between your fingers.

“It’s done?” Excitement laces your voice as you whip your head toward him, two days of none stop clanging and noise had finally ceased, no more miniature heart attacks at the sound of tiles smashing on the floor, no more clouds of dust wafting from the small room into the house.

“Come see” He smiles under his mask, the only tell tale sign being the way his eyes crinkle at their edges. He sidesteps and throws an arm out, beckoning you to the room.

Tossing your book aside you stand, striding toward him, he smells like dust, sweat, cedar and tobacco. He braces himself for your reaction, stiffening as your gaze sets on the room, it’s silent for a moment and it has his heart racing.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s very.. similar”

“It is not”

You huff a breath, standing back so you can turn your face to him, his head tilted down to look at you.

“The showers different, every else is nearly the same”

“I though you liked the way it was?”

“I did, I do, I just expected more with all the noise you’d made”

“You hate it”

“I did not say that”

He slumps against the wall, letting his head rest on it as he stares at the ceiling. You watch him for a moment, this giant man bested by a bathroom and you can’t help but giggle, stepping closer you slide your palms against his chest, wrapping them around his body as best as you can.

His body relaxes under your touch, welcoming the pressure of the embrace as his own arms wrap around you, your cheek pressed to his chest.

“Thank you Simon”

“I made the shower bigger”

You feel his chest expand with a deep breath as you pull back, glancing through the door frame with a small huh.

Stepping into the room you can finally get a good look at everything, “This is bigger, you could fit like 5 people in it if you tried”

“Or maybe just two”

The words heat your skin, turning around and he’s braced himself against the doorframe, his hands above his head as he leans in slightly, he practically sucks the air from the room.

Your eyes focus on the way his arm muscles shift, his massive frame taking up the space, ignoring the way your cheeks flush as his arms flex, holding his weight.

“Something I can help you with?” You swear he’s smirking under the mask, purposefully sending your nerves into a frenzy.

“I’m gonna make some tea” A quick subject change to combat the way the air began to feel hot, he steps sideways allowing you passage as you walk to the kitchen, trying to shake your thoughts.

He bites back a small smile as you rush past him, laughing to himself at how easily you fluster, he’ll miss that, making you squirm with just a glance.

He joins you in the kitchen a minute later, pulling a chair from the table, the same chair he sat at every morning and night, unspoken assigned seating in the kitchen.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he watches you move around, opening cabinets, without asking you grab him a mug and the gesture warms his heart, it’d become a second nature to always make him a cup, learning how he liked his tea, no one had ever done things like that for him before, let alone memorize the exact amount of sugar he liked.

He thanks you as you place the mug down, sitting across from him as your own cup warms your hands, the steam from the drink swirling in the air.

“So what book were you reading?”

You furrow your brows for a moment at the sudden conversation, unused to Simon asking questions but a second later you’re choking on your tea, memories of lines filled with smut, pages even.

“Just a romance”

He hums, you hope your answer was enough to keep him from prying into your literary habits, considering how flustered you get when he flirts it might just kill you to admit what you’d been reading just 10 feet away from him.

“Like one of those smut books?” He tilts his head to the side, dark eyes pinning you as yours widen, your heart dropping through your chest as you take a sip of your drink, trying to think of an answer.

No use in lying now, “Yes”

“Any good?”

“In what sense?”

“I dunno, do you like it?”

“I am… enjoying it”

“Yeah? How much?” His tone playful

“I’d enjoy it more if you didn’t sleep a room away from me every night”

“You want me to sleep closer?”

“That’s not-“ You stumble over your words as he smiles, the lines beside his eyes creasing under his mask.

“Do you read a lot of books like that?”

Yes “No”

He hums again, seemingly satisfied with your answer, your eyes following him as he stands, turning around and leaving the room, leaning your head toward the entry to watch him your jaw drops.

He reaches to the couch, picking up your book and splitting the pages to a random chapter.

“Wait, Simon” You stand

“His hand grips my roots, tugging my head so it rests against his broad chest, his cock driving into me as his arm holds my waist to him”

“Stop, stop!” You rush toward him, arms ahead of you as you reach for the book but he turns on his heel, dodging your attempt before his arm snakes around your back, tugging you against him.

“This is very naughty”

“Please put it back” The way he holds you makes it impossible to hide your face, cheeks stained pink as heat rises to them.

“I never would’ve thought you were into this kinda stuff love”

“Well, there’s a lot about me you don’t know” You wrench the book from his hands, tossing is behind you before trying to step back, his arm holds firm.

“Care to enlighten me?”

If his arm wasn’t holding you up you might’ve fallen to the ground, knees buckling at his dark tone, the intense stare of him as he looks down to you.

“Maybe another time” He smirks, grip lightening as you waver backwards, stumbling slightly.

Your pulse aches through your body, the heat of the room becoming too much too quickly.

“I’m gonna go for a walk”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No- I mean, I’ll be quick, just need some fresh air”

“Alright”

Nodding you turn to the door, the breeze hitting you as soon as you open it, letting the scent of the damp earth flood your senses before closing the door behind you.

It made no sense to him, how large the tiny cottage could feel when you weren’t there, the idea that your presence alone filled the home with such comfort, it scared him how much he needed you, to be near you, he’d never needed anyone like that before, let alone someone he’d known for such a short amount of time.

To be honest it scared him, and very rarely did Simon feel genuine fear, not the fear for his life that he faced every day in combat or the fear of coming home to an house full of his family murdered, but the fear that you made him feel whole, that his existence relied on you, your voice and soft touches.

His anxiety started as a small coil in his stomach, one day, one more day he had before he’d be going home and you had no idea, content to let him live you with for the foreseeable future, it’d been days since you even brought up the idea of him leaving, that kernel of hope that you wanted him there as much as he wanted to stay, the tethering to reality. But that wasn’t reality, he had a home, a job, a life outside the one he’d adapted to with you, obligations to see through, but damnit if he didn’t want to just be declared MIA and stay.

It wasn’t like he could just leave without telling you, somehow the idea of running away from you hurt more than simply having to go, but telling the truth was no easy task, especially when it involved feelings.

He was nearly dozing off on the couch, riley tucked under him arm when you got back, your hair wind swept as you stepped into the house, and once again it felt like a home, your presence filling the room and Simon couldn’t fight the smile that creeped onto his face as he turned to you.

“Hungry?”

“Starved.” His eyes locked with yours as his body remained still, one harmless word, a simple response to your question even, but the burn in his gaze set your skin on fire, hot enough that even another walk in the cool air wouldn’t suffice.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you nod, “Okay”

The room fills with the aroma of your cooking, a mix on spices thrown together in a dish before you present to food to him, the two of you sitting in your unofficial assigned seats at the small table before digging in.

“I have to leave tomorrow”

The statement almost makes you choke on your bite, forcing the air back to your lungs you stare at him wide eyed.

“That’s, I mean.. I don’t know what that is, good?”

“Is it?”

“Good that you’re no longer missing I guess”

He hums in response and it feels like a piece of your chest has cracked open, the thought that he’d actually have to leave eventually had slipped your mind somewhere in the last few days, the looming fear of him not being there when you woke up now settling in.

“I just want to say thank you”

“Don’t”

“What?”

“Don’t say thank you, atleast not yet, not until you actually go”

“Okay.. This food isn’t that bad”

“Don’t patronize me”

“I mean it, it is almost fully edible”

You contort your face with anger but can’t fight the smile that creeps up it, shaking your head at him as he smirks.

The two of you finish eating, settling into the couch while Simon cleans up before he joins you, nestling against your side and looping an arm behind your body as Riley rests as your feet.

“Read to me”

“Absolutely not”

“It doesn’t have to be one of your sexy books”

You turn your neck to look at him, eyes squinting as you think it over, “Fine”

You grab one of the books on the table next to you, cracking it open before reciting the words out loud, he shifts his body so that you rest against his chest, his steady heartbeat thumping behind you as his warmth seeps into your skin.

You read a few chapters before catching yourself yawning, closing the book to turn to him, laughing lightly as you find his eyes already shut, you had no idea how long he’d been asleep.

He looked so peaceful, so at rest, so not scary, you place a hand against his chest, nudging him to wake him and he opens one eye, peering down at you.

“Come to bed”

He nods as you lift yourself from him, his body slowly pushing from the couch before following you into the bedroom.

Your words play over his mind as he undresses, come to bed, not your bed, not stay with me, come to bed, as if it now belonged to him as well, as if the two of you shared the intimacy of having a thousands nights together. He tosses his mask to the side, content that the darkness of the room would mask enough that he could sleep comfortably.

You feel the mattress dip under his weight, his body shifting against yours as his arm snaked under your head, your arm draped over his chest as you tangle your legs into his, letting his heat envelop you.

It takes Simon longer to fall back asleep, practically counting the minutes he has left with you, watching your eyes flutter as you dream, small noises escaping your lips that have him holding in a laugh as to not wake you. He’s content to stay like this forever, holding you, just existing with you in your own world.

It’s the pull of his arm that wakes you, ripping his warmth from your body as he jostles in the bed, the sheets thrown from his body, the light from the window illuminating every curve of muscle on his chest, the scars that littered the skin nearly growling in the moonlight.

His name escapes your lips as a whisper, heavy eyes weighed down by sleep turn to him as you sit up, his body is tense, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Simon?”

You reach a gentle hand for him, slowly as if he were some wild animal before setting your grip on his bicep, the muscle taught under your touch.

You squeeze his flesh, willing him awake as his head tosses against the pillow. He’s mumbling something, too quick to understand as his lids flutter.

“Simon, you’re having a nightmare”

You shake him lightly and his eyes strike open, panic flashing through them before his chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, his gaze darting around the room.

His breathing is ragged and fast,

“Simon? What’s wrong?” Your own fear seeps into your nerves as you watch his body descent into panic, his hands shaking.

“Okay, it’s okay” You search his form for some sort of sign, something to do, your eyes meet his and they’re wild, so many emotions behind his dark gaze.

You move one leg over his waist, lowering yourself against him before shaking your arms around him and squeezing, using your body as pressure against his chest.

“It’s okay, you had a nightmare, it’s just your anxiety, you’re going to be okay”

The words are soft against the skin of his neck, your chin tucked against him as you press your weight against his chest, your body straddling his.

“Breathe Simon, just breathe”

You drag your hands against his skin, attempting to smooth the clammy flesh as his breaths become longer, more fluid, you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, loud and heavy as you whisper against his skin.

“You’re okay, you’re here”

Slowly his arms wrap around your back, tugging you tighter to him, flattening your chest to his as he holds you. His eyes close as he dips his chin against your shoulder, breathing in your scent, letting it ground him.

Your thumb runs circles against his neck, feeling his pulse point as his heartbeat slows, his body calming.

You stay there for a few minutes, letting him adjust while he holds you, a comfortable silence between you two.

“M’sorry”

“Don’t be.. are you alright?”

“For now”

Content with his answer you turn your neck to face him, your lips inches from his as he turns to you.

“Didn’t mean to wake you”

“I’m a light sleeper anyway”

You feel him huff a small laugh and it soothes the anxiety in your own stomach, panic over the realization of your position settles in and you sit up.

Your back stiffens as your body connects with his hard length, a blush running over your cheeks.

“Fuck, m’sorry, that’s not- shit”

“It’s okay, it’s natural, I know it’s nothing to do with me”

“What?”

“It happens, we don’t need to be awkward about it”

“What do you mean nothing to do with you?”

“I just mean it’s normal for that to happen to any man when a woman’s on top of them”

You shift off him, legs meeting eachother as you move but his hand grabs your hip, holding you still, the motion sending shock waves through your body.

“It has everything to do with you”

Your breath catches in your throat as his older hand grips your waist, he rugs you back into him as he sits up, your hips cradling his as he presses his chest to yours.

He lifts an arm, fingers threading through your hair before tossing it behind your shoulder.

“You are so beautiful love”

His words soften your gaze, eyes rounding as you stare at him, his hand cradles the back of your neck as his stare darts between your lips and eyes.

“Simon”

“Let me kiss you, please”

Your lips part without thought, moving to close the gap between you as you crash into him, his hands holding you close as yours wrap around his neck, the kiss searing as his tongue begs entrance, you open, allowing him to explore further as he deepens the kiss.

You’re lost for air when he pulls back, his lips swollen and wet, you reach closer for more, subconsciously grinding your hips against him in your attempt and he groans, the sound shooting straight to your core, arousal pooling.

“Say you want this, tell me you need me as much as I need you” His thumb brushes over your cheek.

You let out a heavy breath, “I need you Simon, I need all of you”

You press your weight down, against his length as he smiles, white teeth beaming back at you as his arms circle your waist, he flips your body till you’re on your back, head pressing against the pillows as he lowers himself, catching your lips once more.

The air feels hot as your hands roam his back, your knees bent at his sides as he moves lower against your body, his lips trailing kisses down your skin.

His hands reach for the hem of your top, pushing it up your chest to reveal your stomach as he plants more kisses on the flesh, each one kindling to the ache that’s formed between your legs.

He stares up through his lashes, the sight of him, practically kneeling for you has your heart fluttering, he places a small kiss above the hem of your bottoms, silently asking permission and you nod.

For every inch of skin revealed he grants you a kiss, tossing your bottoms to the side so he can nip at your inner thighs, your core growing increasingly needy.

There’s no time to be embarrassed about your now apparent arousal, your slick coating your skin, gleaming in the soft light, not as he flattens his tongue, licking a strip through your core to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue.

“Taste so damn sweet love”

His tongue flicks over your bud, teasing it before his lips catch it, sucking at the nerves, your body responds by arching into his touch, seeking more.

He traces two digits against your entrance, teasing them as you whimper before he pushes them in, curving his fingers against you, grinding them against that soft spot within your walls.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots as he licks at you, fingers pumping inside your core, bringing you closer to the edge.

He grazes his teeth against your clit and your body erupts, hips grinding against his face as you ride out your high, his fingers working you through it.

He plants more kisses against your skin once you come down, his chin wet with your slick as he climbs back over your body, leaning down to kiss you.

“Please Si, need to feel you”

Your words strike through him and his eyes darken, a need burning through his body as he lowers himself, nipping at your neck.

You reach a hand between your bodies, palming him through his underwear and he grinds against your touch, his groans muffled against your skin.

He helps you remove his boxers, your palm now wrapping around his hard length, he’s massive, big enough that your hand can’t fit around him fully, a new sensation of anxiety flooding your nerves.

He sits back on his legs, his body in full view and he looks like some sort of god, as toned muscle, slashes and scars adorning the skin. You can see his cock fully now and you were right, the man is anything but average.

His gaze locks on yours as your eyes travel his form, his chest rising with every breath, his hair ragged and falling across his forehead.

You reach a hand for him and he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his face as he kisses your palm, parting his lips to lick the flesh before moving it to his cock. His hand guides yours over his length, stroking himself as his saliva coats his cock, he see him close his eyes as his hips twitch into your touch.

Your core pulses with need as you watch him, “Need to feel you”

His eyes snap open and he releases your hand, letting it drop as he grabs your thighs, tugging you closer.

He runs his tip through your slick, gathering ur on the head of his cock before he pushes in, a choked breath escapes his lips as you gasp, he’s massive, the feeling of him nothing compared to the way he looks, and he looks big.

He holds the head of his cock inside you, allowing you a moment to adjust before you circle your hips, urging him to give you more.

He happily obliges, slowly thrusting his clock into you inch by inch, stretching you out to fit around him as your slick coats his length.

You can feel his muscles tending under your touch, he’s holding back.

“I’m not going to break Simon”

“Fuck-“ He cursed as he bottoms out, “Don’t wanna hurt you love”

“I said I wanted all of you, I meant it”

You feel his cock twitch inside you before he lowers himself, kissing you softly before his hands wrap around your thighs, pulling one to his chest so your leg rests against his should while the other circles his waist, his lips release yours and he thrusts into you, using the toned muscles of his body to fuck you harder into the mattress.

His cock drives deep into your core, forcing out moans from your lips as your hands reach above you, planting against the headboard in search of something to grip.

His own noises fall freely, grunting as he fucks you with every inch of his cock, your body moulding to his as the force of him shifts your body up the bed.

“Christ you’re so perfect love, takin every inch of me so well”

He presses his body harder against yours, forcing his cock deeper as he leans in to kiss you, his hand snaking down your body to circle your clip as you gasp into his mouth.

Your body arches into him, need growing in your core as the coil inside you stretches,

“Fuck, tell me you need me here”

“I need you here Simon, more than you know”

“Fuck, that’s it, christ you’re so good, too good for me”

You pant against his skin, head pressing into the pillow as your release builds,

“I’ll never leave, not really, I’ll never be rid of you”

His words cut through you as his hips stutter, his thumb works over your clit as he bottoms out, triggering your release and you clench down on him, his own climax meeting yours as he spills into you, his cock twitching as you milk him.

He cages your body with his own, tucking his chin against your shoulder while his cock softens inside you, your body’s slick with sweat as your breath evens.

“I mean it, I will find my way back to you, there won’t be a day that goes by that i’m not thinking about you”

Your arms wrap around him, holding him to you as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the tears that prick at them.

Time passes slower in the morning, waking up next to him, your bodies wrapped around eachother, the morning light illuminating his face, there isn’t a camera on earth that could capture how beautiful he looks, his skin pale from a lack of sun, but healthy, dotted with freckles.

His arm tugs around your body, pulling you closer as you hum against him,

“Mornin’ love”

His voice laced with sleep, deep and groggy, sending shivers down your spine as your fingers trace patterns on his bare chest.

“How long do you have?”

He peeks an eye at the clock, shifting back against you as nestling his lips against the crown of your head.

“Two hours”

“And then you’re gone”

“Not forever”

“It’ll feel like it”

He releases a breath against you, the sadness now pooling in your chest as he holds you.

You stay in bed for the better part of an hour, just touching eachother, memorizing the map of his body, committing every angle to memory before you get up, throwing on some clothes and making your way to the kitchen.

You wait for the kettle to boil while he dresses, the sounds of him tossing his things into a bag a pang in your heart as you pour the water into a tea pot.

Your feet pat against the floor as you hand him a mug, nestling against his side as you watch the trees through the window, his arm wrapping around you.

You sit together, talking about nothing and everything, the idea of a future together just teetering at the edge of possible as the clock strikes the hour.

You wait with shallow breaths as you stare at his comms on the table, your heart falling through your stomachs as you see the machine light up green.

Simon reached in front of you, grabbing the small device and tucking the wire against his ear, he flicks the switch and keeps his gaze foreword.

You hear voices from the small ear piece, not loud enough to make out what they’re saying but the distant sound of a helicopter tells you enough, it was time.

Slowly he ticks his comms against his body, grabbing some equipment from his bag and strapping it to himself before he stands.

Tears prick your eyes as he makes it way to the door, each footstep heavier than the last as he stands at the threshold.

You meet him at the door, hands fussing with the strings on his hoodie before they settle against his chest, you fight he sadness that threatens to consume you as you wrap your arms around him, your cheek pressed to him.

He snakes one arm around your waist while the other holds against your neck, dipping his head to rest stop yours.

“Promise you’ll be back, swear it”

He pulls back, his hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head to his gaze, nothing but sorrow and honesty in his eyes.

“I swear on everything I am, everything we will be, I will return to you love”

His thumb catches your tear, clearing it from your skin before it can fall as he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, breathing against you.

He pulls back, mouth parting as if to say something before he closes it, smiling down at you.

“My beautiful girl, I’ll never leave you”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses your forehead and tugs his mask over his face, only the sight of his eyes remaining, the eyes that captured every part of your being.

The scent of the earth outside fills the room as he opens the door, letting the light of the sun in, drenching your bodies in the early glow.

His hands linger on your body for a moment before slowly pulling back, the loss of contact like a knife to chest.

“Thank you”

He steps through the door, your body frozen to its spot,

“Come home Simon”

He smiles under his mask, his gaze soft before he turns, you watch his form grow further as he makes his way toward the clearing, the whir of the helicopter blades now louder.

Every step he takes is a crack to your shield, chilling away at your heart until he comes back to mend it, you watch him all the way, seeing him step into the helicopter and disappear behind the door, watching it fly through the sky, further and further until it disappears from your vision, and the shield falls, tears streaming down your face, staining your cheeks as your body falls to the floor, Riley quietly nudging at your arm as he tries to comfort you.

“Come home” The words are a choked whisper from your dry throat, spoken to the soft breeze that blows outside the door, willing the words to reach him.

tag list: @pepsicolacoochie @coolbanana44 @konigsblog @lialacleaf @mli345 @gghoulzz @fuckface-6996 @jklkverr @2dmensl @sapszilla @yahet-moi-ohorat @snixx2088 @meeom @sorryimbusytalklater @zuyilu @streetartist22 @aryiannarae @rosiesrosyroses-blog @one17 @salsa-reads-stuff @stateofcatatonia @viylikescats @kaysav608 @yourlocalmoon-lover @wordsfromshona na @elichisstuff @fanficwriterlover @thriving-n-jiving @babygirl-panda19

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty

2K notes · View notes

thetriplets3 · 2 months

Note

When you're about to cry and he does that "hey, hey" thing

please do this with chris

❝𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬❞

chris and i have been together for almost 4 months now having met at a small get together of a mutual friend, which when it comes to them a small get together turns into a party.

-flashback-

i had wandered off starting to feel overwhelmed from the constant talking around me. soon enough i found myself in a room that was turned into a makeshift music studio. the room felt inviting and safe for me to hid in for a while. any open space that wasn’t cover with furniture of some kind was filled with more plants than i could name. the warm soft light beckoned me to make myself comfortable, choosing a bean bag nestled in the corner for an extra sense of security. i curled into myself getting comfy figuring it’d be a while till my friend wanted to go home since i went with her. shutting my eyes i listened to the soft sound of the music playing from the other side of the house. the sound of the mini fridge closing startled me, snapping me back to reality.

“oh shit my bad i didn’t think anyone would be here sorry if i scare you. i was just grabbing a pepsi and was hang out here for a bit but i can go if you wanna be alone i mean you came up here for a reason”

“no no you’re good you can stay i just needed to get away from the crowd it was too much for me. so much for a small get together i should have expected this”

“i get that that’s why i came up here. want a drink? there’s pepsi, root beer, water or iced tea?”

“iced tea please”

he grabbed my drink and made himself comfortable on the adjacent bean bag and didn’t hesitate to ask if i was okay and if i needed anything having heard me mention the party was getting too much for me. i had just met him and he wanted to make sure i was okay, something about that just warmed my heart how concerned he was. we began talking about how we knew the host and the more we talked the more we realized how much we had in common. i’m usually wary of men joining me if i’m alone at a party, you can’t trust everyone most of the time they’re drunk or have some weird intention, but something about chris just made me feel automatically safe. before i knew it it was 4 hours later my friend came in the room outta breath complaining how she’d looked everywhere for me and that she’s ready to go home. not wanting to keep her waiting any longer but also not wanting to leave chris, i begrudgingly get up from my comfy spot.

“i’m sorry i’ve gotta go she’s my ride. thanks for keeping me company i really liked talking to you”

“me too. would i be able to get your number? i’d love to see you again if that’s not too forward”

-5 months later-

safe to say i gave him my number. when we first started dating we both opened up about being hesitant of relationships seeing as it’s my first one and he’d been hurt before, the whole idea of dating was unfamiliar to us but we worked through it and i think getting all of our worries and insecurities out really strengthen our relationship.

despite bring together for a few months he’s yet to see me cry which i know isn’t a big deal but that’s just who i am. i’m a sensitive person but i hold it in and break when i’m alone. i was always a very emotional empathetic child the slightest thing made me cry whether it be sad or happy tears. constantly being told “stop crying” or “you’re crying over that?” really got to me now i try and keep my emotions in.

sure chris has seen me get upset or worked up about something so silly. one time i was putting the dishes away and could hardly reach the mug shelf but nonetheless i tried putting a mug in a spot that looked like it’d fit and pushed it a little too hard knocking the mug i made for chris when i did a pottery class on a friends birthday. the mug was coming straight towards i tried catching it but couldn’t and it landed on the ground with a loud smash. tears instantly pricked my eyes seeing the cup i was so proud of smashed to pieces.

third person

chris was playing video games in the living room with his headset on, one ear slightly uncovered so he could listen to you softly sing to your music finding comfort in your voice and presence. a shattering sound followed by your silence had him ripping his headset off and running to the kitchen to see you with the saddest frown on your face and your breathing picking up. rushing over to you he kicks the remnants of the mug out of the way.

-your pov-

“what happened? are you okay? are you hurt? did you step on any pieces?” his voice filled with concern as his eyes dart across my face for any signs of hurt.

“your mug. i broke your mug” my voice so quiet it’s barely audible but the cracks in it indicating in close to tears.

“oh baby it’s okay it’s just a mug i can get another one as long as you’re okay i’m not concerned about the mug. are you okay?” he says lifting my chin drawing my attention to him instead of the tragedy on the floor.

“but it’s the mug i made you your favorite mug and i just smashed it to pieces i’m sorry i shouldn’t have tried reaching when i knew i couldn’t. i broke your mug” i spew out apologies as tears start escaping my eyes.

“hey hey no tears baby. look at me forget about the mug for a sec i care more about you right now, are you okay?” he says cupping my cheeks as his thumbs rub across my cheeks in a soothing manner, wiping away tears as they fell.

“yes i’m okay”

“good i’m glad” he says as he lifts me onto the counter away from the shards and stands between my legs. “i’m not upset about the mug baby. yes it was my favorite mug but only because i know you made it and i loved how excited you were that you made a mug on your first try making pottery. it melted my heart that you could have made anything and you immediately thought to make something for me. it was the thought and love that went into the mug that made me love it. things are replaceable no need to get upset i’m glad you didn’t get hurt. i appreciate you putting the dishes away you didn’t have to do that”

“you had a busy week i just wanted you to relax and not have to deal with the dishes but then i made a whole scene and- and i- your mug” my voice falters, eyes still watery.

“nope don’t wanna hear it pretty girl i’m not upset or mad don’t worry about it okay. i’ll clean it up. how about for our next date we do pottery huh how’s that sound? then i can make you something too i have ideas already”

“i love you thank you for being so gentle with me and my silly feelings”

“i’d never get upset or over something like this or anything really. it’s not silly for you to be upset over this i know you were proud of it you’re allowed to be sad. i love you and i think it’s beautiful that you have the capacity to feel things so deeply” he wraps his arms around body one arm holding my head to his chest as he plants kisses to my hair.

i love the way he loves me

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @strniolo @abbie13sworld @luvsturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

275 notes · View notes

moongreenlight · 6 months

Text

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”

#cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader

802 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months

Text

High-Rise Melancholy

—

Time Written-11:23 a.m. (Pt.1 )

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

A sharp clash of painted porcelain smashes against the doorway you almost crossed, shattering the thick plastic light switch frame.

An involuntary yelp left your lips from the sharp sound of impact, watching the fragments of what was once your indigo blue, gold star and moon coffee mug, once full of sleepy time tea, scatter the ground in seconds.

Wide eyes meet yours, the culprit of throwing the mug peering back at you with eyes much wider than yours behind his mask.

The bedroom was laced in silence, the tension elevated into high alarm. Static laced his tongue once he realized what he’d done, the idea of harming you bringing his knees to nearly buckle.

He swore you weren’t standing there a second ago, what was he thinking? He nearly hit you, he almost—

“GET OUT!!” He shouts, screaming into the flames of the chaos he caused. Your eyes grew wider, your feet nearly stumbling back as you retreated. Enraged, milky eyes grew close as he stomped forward, trembling hands grasping hold onto the edges of the door.

“GO! GET THE— GET THE FUCK OUT!!” His raised voice cuts short once he slams the door in your face, preventing you from seeing him crumble any further.

Out of the eighty six to ninety percent change you had to seeing him in this manner, it never got any easier. He’d shut down, he’d throw things, he’d shout so loud it would concern the neighbors.

However, as Batman abides by his unique, golden rules of logic, Jason’s was much more simple:

He’d never, ever raise a hand to you. Ever.

You wait in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes, lit up by the warm glow of the stove light. A fresh cup of tea waited for you, alongside a mug of strong coffee. Your boyfriend locked himself into your shared bedroom, your inaccessible phone laying abandoned on its charger on your bedside table.

You couldn’t check up on him like this, no matter how much you wanted to. He needed space, needing a minute to calm down, however long that minute would end up taking.

You were in the kitchen when he came home, dressed in plaid sweatpants and his red hoodie with a box of pancake mix in your hand, moments away from preparing an early breakfast before he’d sleep in until late in the afternoon.

Maybe it was your mistake. You heard the difference in his heavy footsteps when he returned this morning. Heavy, dirty soles scraping against hard wood floor in frustrating stomps, rather than exhausted drags.

You probably shouldn’t have treaded behind him with strong concern, wanting to make sure he was alright, preparing to dote on him if needed. You would say you’ve gotten better at it, but after this, you felt thrown back towards square one.

He’s tired, he’s angry. He just needs a minute.

You force yourself to think this, trying to keep your composure as your eyes peer down at Jason’s coffee, your fingertips settled on the warmth of the mug contrasting against the cold countertop.

Eventually, the faint click of your bedroom door was heard down the short hallway before comes to you. The softest creaks of the wood gave way once his socked feet transfer towards cold tile before warm arms encasing you in a deep embrace.

The faint smell of wet dirt, rain water and petrichor flood your senses, his sweat damp hair tickling behind your ear as he tucks his head against the valley of your neck in silent shame.

“M’sorry,” His tired, weak voice ripples against your skin, the voice of a weak, little boy coming forth inside the body of a grown man. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to hurt you—“

“You didn’t,” your wavering voice cuts him off, to his dismay at what he assumed was your denial. “Jason, don’t say that, you didn’t hurt me-“

“I almost did!” He insists, hot trembling breath fanning along your neck whilst his broad, jacket shrouded arms squeezed you tighter. “I swear! I-I wasn’t thinking, I.. I wasn’t—“

He cuts himself off, his chest heaving with his increased breathing. You try to take the opportunity to turn yourself, feeling his arms hesitate in their tight grasp once he realized what you were trying to do.

His shoulders tremble as he contemplates you seeming him like this. No, he didn’t want you to even look at him, but you were just as stubborn as he was with persistence.

Jason’s head rose off your shoulder, keeping himself turned towards the side as you finally face him. You didn’t need to look into his eyes to see how frustrated with himself he was, the angry, shameful tears leaving thick tracks down his chiseled cheeks.

Dark bags outlined his sockets, tired wrinkles crowning the corners of his pink, flushed eyes.

“Jason,” his name softly rolled off your tongue, making the man sniffle after he lowers his avoided gaze.

Your arms snugly wrap around his neck, your hand cradling his head towards your shoulder. His muscles remained stiff three seconds longer before melting, fat tears seeping into the shoulder of your hoodie.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby.” His weak voice trembles, scattered breath steaming against the damp fabric. Please, don’t be angry with me.

You’d never be angry with him. You trust him to never hurt you.

“I forgive you,” came your gentle reply, but it would take a while for the shame to slip off his nerves. For now, you held the tall, large man against your frame, quietly comparing him to a ridiculously large teddy bear you’d win at a boardwalk carnival.

“I’ll get you another mug,” he murmurs against your neck, making you huff out an amused breath.

“We have a hundred more in the cabinets,” you mused, referring to your thrift store of a stock that took up two shelf spaces.

“I-“ he tried to speak again, thinking of some other way he could possibly apologize for his outburst, but you weren’t gonna have it.

“Jason, enough,” You cradle his face, wanting to kiss all his tears away straight from the source. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay?”

A small part of you wants to smile at how many times that word has been repeated, but it was a chisel on a block of ice when it came to Jason. A warmed chisel, hoping to strike an impact on his troubled mind faster than anything else.

He’d let you break him harder than he broke your possessions, even when it was never intentional. He’d let you harm him worse than he ever did towards the criminals, the ‘so-called victims’ from his Lazarus youth.

He’d watch your hand raise, yet it never struck, it soothed. When he believed everything in his new life grew more hateful and cruel, the graze of your fingertips remained subtly sweet. Pure autumn honey and warm milk for his battered soul.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you settle, running your fingers through his sweat curled locks nearly flattened down along the top of his head. The consequences of wearing a helmet for many hours at a time.

“Go take a shower. I’ll make you those cinnamon roll pancakes you like, then you can get some sleep. Okay?”

A tinge of a smile formed on the corner of his lip, albeit temporary, it was still visible.

“Okay.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason peter todd #I can make cinnamon roll pancakes #he likes them he told me himself #in case anyone noticed #I’m not happy with Gotham War #Gotham War

432 notes · View notes

softhairedhotch · 5 months

Text

comfortember day sixteen: coffee/tea break aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader aaron takes a holiday from work and comes back with a beard, leading to something neither of you would have expected. word count: 1.6k warnings/content: minor injury (burns), mentions of being shot, kissing, one use of Y/N,, idk what else. comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3!

beards and burns

You sigh at the computer in front of you, feeling exhaustion beginning to weigh you down. Looking around the bullpen and seeing similar expressions across your co-worker's faces, you stand up and ask, “Does anyone want any coffee?” The chorus of yeses and pleases makes you laugh as you begin walking toward the kitchenette. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”

“Our saviour!” Emily calls after you.

Derek laughs as he gestures toward you. “The true hero of the BAU.”

You roll your eyes and begin making the coffee, scrolling through your phone as it heats up. As you laugh at a funny post from your friend, you hear a few collective gasps fill the room and glance up to see your team all talking in hushed voices. Raising your eyebrow, you wonder to yourself what they’re up to as you grab the finished coffee pot and your mug.

“Good to see you again, Y/N,” a voice from behind you says, startling you and making you jump. “Oh, sorry.”

Recognising the voice as Aaron, your boss, who’s been on holiday for almost two months (everyone was as surprised as you when he announced his break from work), you turn around to greet him with a smile. However, at the sight of him, the words die in your throat and all you get out is an embarrassing noise of shock. And if that’s not embarrassing enough, the coffee pot–both fresh and boiling to the touch–falls out of your grip and smashes to the ground.

Aaron is quick to run over to you, his face dropping into deep concern as you flinch back and hold your hand with a pained sound. It’s almost too much, his soft brown eyes looking over your face, one hand on your shoulder and the other hovering over your burnt hand, and the beard.

God, he has a beard.

An actual beard.

One that frames his face so perfectly and makes him look ten times more attractive, something you were sure couldn’t be possible and it has your mind reeling. Your face feels as if it’s been engulfed in flames as you stare at him, his mouth moving to words you’re too unfocused to hear.

He moves you over to the sink and runs the water on the coldest setting, testing the temperature on his hand before putting yours under the tap and shaking off his own. Embarrassment courses through you.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking a step away from him and looking at the shattered glass on the floor. “I don’t know what happened there.”

You can feel everyone in the office staring at you and you wish the floor would simply swallow you up. Derek cackles to himself, trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably, and you make a note to yourself to smack him over the head when you get a chance.

“Maybe you should go home and get some sleep instead of drinking more coffee, hm?” Aaron suggests.

Despite the pain in your hand, slowly easing up under the cold water, you manage to laugh. “Jesus, Hotch, you take a month off and suddenly you’re an advocate for going home and getting some rest? What happened to you?”

He grins at your words, his dimple hidden by his perfectly trimmed beard but still managing to look as stunning as ever, and you melt at the sight. “It made me open my eyes a bit.” As he speaks, he reaches out for a neatly folded towel on the counter and throws it over the coffee on the floor, kneeling beside it. His eyes catch yours from where he’s on the floor, the light reflecting beautifully over them and making the black ring around his iris more noticeable. “I’ve clearly been missing out.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to clean that–”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He moves the towel over the floor briefly before standing up and looking at your hand in concern. “You know what? Your hand is more important than this floor.” He glances around the room before his eyes land on a still-grinning Derek and he squints his eyes with the smallest of smirks–it almost makes you collapse on the spot. “Morgan, clean this glass up, please.”

That wipes the smile off Derek’s face immediately and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Seriously, Hotch? I didn’t even make the mess, man!”

“You can treat yourself to another pot of coffee afterwards,” Aaron replies, reaching out for your shoulder and gently guiding you toward his office. Once you’re inside and the door is closed, he takes your burnt hand in yours and sighs. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”

“It’s just a small burn,” you shrug, “nothing I haven’t been through before.”

He hums. “True. I mean… you’ve been shot.”

“True,” you reply with a grimace, “that wasn’t very pleasant. Neither is this but I’m being very brave about it.”

Aaron laughs, the noise soft and sweet, and you’re sure you might melt. “Yes. Yes, you are. Now let’s make sure you’re okay, hm?” After looking over your hand for a few moments, Aaron hums again and smiles at you, eyes bright. “I think you’ll survive.”

And then he does something you would never have expected in a million years. Everything feels as if it’s in slow motion as he gently swipes the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips and pressing a soothing kiss over your skin. Your cheeks warm the moment his lips make contact and the cage in your stomach bursts open with all the butterflies fighting to get out.

“There,” he whispers, “kissed it all better.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, finding him endearingly cute as you stare at him with a fond look. “Thank you, that really helped.” As the two of you stare at each other for a few moments, you move your burnt hand closer to slide it over his jaw, feeling the soft bristles of his beard under your fingers. The sensation makes your heart hammer in your chest, and when Aaron smiles and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, you’re sure you might have a heart attack right then and there. “Aaron…”

“Yeah?”

Running your thumb over his jaw, you smile at him. “I missed you.”

Aaron grins and his dimples move under your hand. “I missed you too.”

And then he’s moving closer, reaching out to cup your face in his own warm hands, angling your head so that his lips slot perfectly against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, and you find yourself sinking further against him as he smiles into the kiss. When it’s over and the two of you pull apart, slowly so as to not separate so soon, his eyes find yours and his smile widens.

“That was…” you start, trailing off as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek and close your eyes.

“Something we should have done a long time ago?”

You let out a huff of laughter. “Definitely. But I’m glad we did it now.”

“Me too,” he mutters, pressing his lips against yours again. The short hairs of his beard rub against your face in a satisfying way. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my beard though, would it?”

“Oh, it has everything to do with it,” you reply, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “You better be keeping this, Agent.”

“If you say so, Agent,” he chuckles. “Although I’m not sure Jack will like it.”

“Kids can’t always get what they want, tell him to suck it up.”

Aaron snorts at that. “Maybe you should be the one to tell him that; I don’t think he’d like to hear that from me. Maybe over dinner later this week?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to have dinner with you and Jack already?”

His face falls ever so slightly. “I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I just figured that you and Jack already know each other pretty well and–”

“Aaron,” you laugh, interrupting him. You smooth your fingers over his beard, admiring the way it frames his face perfectly for a few moments before meeting his eyes again. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d… I’d love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Does Friday work?”

“Friday, Friday,” he mutters, looking down at the ground in thought. “Hm, I don’t know…” He meets your gaze and laughs when you give him a look. “Yes, yes that’ll work. How about 7pm?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply, pressing your lips against his one more time. “I should get back to work now.”

“Right, yeah. See you later.”

You wave to him and make your way out of his office, immediately aware of all the eyes on you. Derek is both smirking and glowering at you, no doubt mad about the fact he had to clean up the mess, but there’s a coffee in his and everyone else’s hand so there’s no doubt he did it. When you glance back at the office, you realise that Aaron’s blinds were open the entire time and the team had a view of everything that just happened.

Great.

Ignoring the small anxious pit in your stomach over that, you stroll over to casually pour yourself a new coffee before making your way to your desk. You sit down and turn on your screen, focusing on the task at hand, when Emily approaches you with a smirk.

“What?”

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You laugh and gently push her away. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Nothing! Just didn’t realise you had such a thing for beards!”

“Shut it, Prentiss.”

“Or what?” She cackles.

You roll your eyes and laugh again, looking up at Aaron’s office once more to see him already looking back at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. It makes you feel light and you can’t wait until Friday rolls around.

tags: @hotchs-big-hands @criminalskies

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #bearded aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner beard #comfortember #comfortember 2023 #cas writes

355 notes · View notes

iciclesses · 4 months

Note

Is Soap the crazy ex that's stealing your stuff and Ghost won't do anything about it?

cw toxic relationship, stalking, pillow humping, panty sniffing/licking

The sheer AMOUNT of asks and comments and tags I got begging for it to be fem Soap... TBH I hadn't originally Thought that but yall convinced my ass so easy!! (As if toxic lesbianism isn't my bread and fucking butter)

Soap being sooo obsessed with you- Ghost dumped her because he loves loves LOVES seeing Soap emotionally distraught but got distracted with you soon after, he forgot to take Soap back before her last bits of sanity fled her.

She starts by finding all your social media, she swears that you're posting soft launch photos of Ghost’s hand on your thigh specifically to taunt her. Of course, all that does is rile her up more, and the logical conclusion to cope with that, of course, is to break into your flat while you're away on vacation with Ghost. Serves you right for flying to the fucking Caribbean with her man.

She considers smashing everything she can get her claws on while draped on your bed, your cat purring against Soap while she pets it mindlessly. Spares herself a little maniacal smile at the idea burning your whole fucking place down- she'd wait around a corner as you'd come home and fall to your knees in agony having lost it all.

Scratching just beneath the cats chin and cooing, "Don't worry love, I'd be sure to take good care of ye. Probably better than yer mum thas' for sure."

Ultimately, she does something stranger. She spends the entirety of your remaining vacation (two weeks, one day, and seventeen hours-- bleeding Christ, Ghost never spent more than two nights at Soap’s flat) living as you. The sweet old woman across from you that you asked to check in on your cat while you were gone? Why, she's so old her eyesight is going out. She doesn't trust her memory that much either. So when she squints up at Soap, she doesn't question anything as she passes the fraud your house key.

"Back early, eh pet?"

"Ah, no, but time does fly, doesnae?"

She wakes up every morning in your perfumed, satin sheets. She brushes her teeth with your brush, your paste- licking the bristles like a sweet until all the mint flavor was gone. Showers with all your soaps and slathers herself with your expensive oils after. Looks herself in the eyes in the mirror as she puts your lipstick on. Finds any set of clothes in your closet that fit her, unafraid to play tailor to make especially pretty items fit. Doesn't care if your shoes don't fit her, she makes them fit one way or another. Eats your oats, drinks your coffee from your unwashed mug as she looks down fondly as the cat eats the breakfast Soap put out for it. When she orders out, she puts your name down. Gets a little thrill in the cafes when they call out her tea but your name, gleefully smiling as she takes the paper cup.

Takes strange men home, and by home that still means yours, so they can fuck her like a worthless whore while spitting your name. It's pornographic when Soap throws her head back and cums with a cry when a man won't stop whining your name. She can't escape the sweet smell of your perfume.

Living as you, Soap has never felt so beautiful or put together in her life. It comes as a horrible, dizzying conclusion to Soap in the dead of night: she's not mad at you anymore. She's in love with you. It has her staggering out of bed, nearly collapsing at your hamper when she finds what she was hoping for. Falling over herself back onto your bed and mounting one of your pillows, muscular hips jerking as she rubs her bare, sopping cunt against the fabric. One hand gripping the corner of the pillow, keeping it in place and imagining it was your hair in her fist. The other hand holding a pair of your underwear to her nose. She takes a grotesquely deep sniff, eyes rolling back in her head with a guttural moan. She doesn't stop even as her hips start to buck faster, more desperate. It was then Soap’s turn to whine out your name like it were a last prayer, again and again. Strong thighs flexing as her rhythym became more erratic, her body bowing forward as she chased her orgasm. Tongue daring to dart out and tasting salt, tasting you, the new love of her life, this was the straw that finally broke Soap for good.

#cw toxic relationship #cw stalking #noel.haps #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #fem soap #me writing soap as nuts: yea lesbianism will do that to ye #forgive me for bad english im very sick

229 notes · View notes

seriesxwriting · 4 months

Text

Christmas setup

w Damon Salvatore

Warnings- kissing, alcohol.

Series- The vampire diaries

Summary- all your friends see that you and Damon have been flirting nonstop. If you two won’t make a move, it’s up to them to come up with a plan.

- sorry I know every year I’m late with my Christmas story! This years no different😭.

Every Christmas, me and my friends rent out a big house some place peaceful. So we can relax, drink until our hearts content and be away from all the drama of mystic falls. This had been a tradition for years now, this Christmas would be our sixth one. Me, Elena, Stefan, Bonnie, Enzo, Caroline and jeremy. Oh and Damon. They say you leave the best till last. Damon Salvatore. A man I’d been friends with for a long while, and a man I now felt myself falling for.

“Y/n stop day dreaming” Caroline snapped nudging me. “Are you playing the game?” Bonnie asked me tilting her head. Everyone was sat on the floor with whatever board game they chosen. Everyone apart from Damon who was off collecting wood or something. “Um- actually I’m okay, I still need to wrap a few things before tomorrow so I’m going to do that” I nodded jumping up with my hot chocolate and leaving the room.

We’d been here for three days and the games were starting to get a little tedious. “Perfect I’m glad she’s gone” Caroline whispered grabbing her bag. “What? That’s a little harsh did something happen?” Jeremy jerked his head back in confusion. “No- no nothing like that- it’s just me Bonnie and Elena have come up with a plan and we need everyone in on it” she smiled smashing a piece of paper onto the floor.

“Plan gyadt?” Enzo read out raising an eyebrow “yeah it stands for get y/n and Damon together” Elena read out looking around the room at the faces. “Oh so everyone’s caught onto the flirting that’s been going on for months?” Stefan giggled looking at the plan again. Everyone nodded around the game making people laugh. “Great, so this is the plan” Caroline clicked her knuckled. “We get them in the mood” Elena winked.

Step one:

Knock knock

“Who is it?” I called out, “stefan” he called in. I’d already wrapped his presents so I allowed him inside. “Hey how’s it going?” He smiled coming and sitting down with his coffee on the bed I was staying in. “Not bad, only got Enzos and Damon’s to wrap now” I smiled up at him. “Oh really? What did you get Damon” Stefan peered into the bag suspiciously. “Well he’s always going on about this bourbon called brothers bond but he couldn’t find it anywhere- I’ve found it” I smiled taking the old bottle out of the bag.

“Wow y/n- this is a gorgeous present- he’s going to love it” Stefan smiled looking at the bottle. “Then some new glasses to go with it” I shrugged getting up to fetch them and show Stefan. He nodded at them taking them in with detail. “He’s going to be ecstatic”. “Well I’m glad you approve” “of course I do!” Stefan frantically waved his arm out spilling all his drink over my jumper. My eyes widened realising. “Oh- oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n! Quick go into the bathroom to wash it off” Stefan put the cup on the side and rushed be out of the door.

Outside-

“Damon! Are you out here?” Elena yelled pulling her coat around herself shivering. A woosh of wind appeared in front of her and Damon smiled. “You look freezing” he laughed with a bunch of wood in his hands. “Mm I don’t know how you’re out here with just a shirt on- I mean I do but…” she trailed off making him laugh again. “Well, why you out in the cold?” He questioned walking back to the house with the wood in his hands. “Well I came to check on you- and bring you this” Elena held out a mug of tea.

“Mm never knew you had a nice bone” he dropped the wood and put his hand out for the drink. Elena stepped towards him and tripped spilling the tea all down his shirt and trousers. “Elena! Are you okay?” He burst out trying to help her up. “I’m so sorry Damon! I- I don’t know what came over me” she shook her head trying to stand up. “You should try and get it off before it stains” she took him by the wrist and led him towards the house.

“Really it’s fine elena stop apologising” Damon told her as he entered the bathroom. I turned around seeing him close the door before noticing i was in here. His eyes trailed down my top and mine his. We both laughed at each other. “I feel like I still win in this situation” Damon said coming over to the sink and me. “Why’s that? We’re in the same boat are we not?”. “Mmm yes we are but I don’t stink of coffee” he laughed trying to get the tea off his grey top.

“Actually you have a point there” I nodded before putting my middle finger up to him Damon’s jaw dropped as if he was offended. I laughed flicking the water at him before running off. “Hey!” Damon gasped running after me giggling. He caught me and with vamp speed held me against the wall. I looked up at his face, my smile was gone and I was just panting staring up at him. Into his blue eyes.

“You got me” I whispered under my breath. “Now what are you doing to do?”. I watched his eyes flick down to my lips for a second. “Forgive and forget” he winked drawing away. My heart sank, I was beginning to think he just wasn’t interested because every time we got close he’d pull away. “Oh- looks like the tea didn’t come out” Elena appeared from behind the corner looking at Damon. She side looked my top too. “Maybe you should just both change- how clumsy” she tutted turning on her heels.

She went to find Stefan in the kitchen. “Did you move the t-shirt to the top of the suitcase?” She whispered. “Mmh, and you got Damon’s grey joggers on top?”. Elena nodded and they both grinned at each other childishly. “I hope they work out Stefan” she put a hand on his chest sighing. “It’s a good plan babe” he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t start please, I’ve seen it all before don’t want to see it again” Damon smirked walking into the kitchen.

I came out my room hearing the chatter and went to follow, I couldn’t be asked to root around for a new outfit so I just picked the top on top of everything. It was a tight blue top that was quite boobie. I’d warn it only once. Damon turned around as I walked in behind him. My eyes rolled down him in his great joggers and I had to try very hard to not allow my chin to fall down. Damon stared at me not saying a word. “Y/n you look nice” Elena smiled at me before evil eyeing Damon.

“That’s your favourite colour isn’t it Damon- favourite shade and everything” Stefan piped up almost making me go red. “Yes it is” Damon nodded still staring. “Brings out your eyes in that” he smiled leaning against one of the chairs. “Thanks hun” I winked taking an apple and exiting the room. “Um- I’m going to go and get that wood I dropped” Damon nodded before heading out.

“So once they are changed? What does that mean?” Enzo wondered raising an eyebrow. “They will want to be all over each other now they’re attracted to each other” Caroline sighed with a smile. “So what’s step two?” Jeremy questioned. Everyone nodded being just as curious as him. “Step two is getting them to admit their feelings so they are fresh in their minds” Elena smiled pointing to the paper.

Step two-

Outside-

“Hey Damon want help carrying that?” Bonnie asked raising an eyebrow coming outside. “Nah don’t worry” he threw it all onto the floor outside the door. “Can I ask you something?” She questioned sitting on the porch swing. “Yeah..” he frowned suspiciously. “It’s about y/n” “y/n? Is she okay?” He went to get up but Bonnie put her hand out. “She’s fine- it’s more about the reaction you had” she smiled turning her head to the side.

“Is something going on?” “No” Damon shook his head seriously. “She’s my best friend Damon- and so are you, I can see when the dynamic changed- and it has”. Damon shut one eye “has she said something?” “Do you want her to say something?” Bonnie giggled nudging Damon. “She’s- gorgeous- but nothing could ever happen” Damon shook his head laying back on the swing. “Why? You’re perfect for each other”.

Damon shook his head again “you’re wrong Bonnie, I like her I do but with everything going on- with all the danger we face everyday- I can’t afford to be in love” he smiled sadly. Bonnie’s eyes widened before her mouth hung open. “Do you really believe that?”, Damon nodded with a slight smile. She could tell it was hurting him. “You deserve to have love Damon- you do- I can’t believe that’s why you won’t make a move” she sat back staring into space.

“If I lost her Bonnie” Damon shook his head closing his eyes. “There is always that risk Damon- in every relationship, in every friendship”. He hummed nodding and shrugging slightly. “Yeah I guess- this is pointless though, I don’t even know if she likes me back” “Damon…” Bonnie started but he stood up “I’m going to take this wood inside to the fire” he hinted that the conversation was over.

In the hallway-

“Oh- y/n I was looking for you” Jeremy smiled catching my arm. “Oh you were?” I asked not thinking anything of it. “Yeah- it’s kinda- random” Jeremy giggled turning around to face me. “I only ask because- when I’ve liked any girl you’d always help me get a game plan together and set us up together” “Awh jer” I smiled sitting on one leg looking up at him curiously. “Is there another girl?” “No” he laughed shaking his head. “I would have told you if there was- no this is about you” he nodded lowering his voice.

“Me? As in-.” “No- no I don’t like you- not like that” he shook his head. I burst out laughing at the thought and Jeremy followed. “Good” I nodded crossing my arms. “It’s about you and Damon” he whispered smirking. “O-oh” “you know what I’m talking about then? The flirting?” Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows. “You mean the one sided flirting” I sighed rubbing my arm. “What?” He shook his head not agreeing with me. “You’re right jer I thought something was going on- but every time I think something’s finally going to happen it never does”.

“I think that means you need to make the first move y/n, because from what I’ve seen it’s not one sided” he rubbed my shoulder to remove my pout. “He’s probably just got some reservations but he’s definitely got feelings for you” he shrugged looking confident. “Hm- I don’t know jer, if he doesn’t want to make a move then maybe for the best nothing should happen” I nodded leaving the conversation sadly.

Jeremy stood there thinking for a second before running to find Bonnie. “She likes him” “he liked her!” Bonnie hissed back at him, their grins widened. “But she thinks he doesn’t like her” “well Damon’s scared of falling in love- thinks it’s too risky” Bonnie chewed her lip. “It’s time for step three, the final step” Bonnie nodded seriously.

“And when they have explained there feeling it will play over in their mind again and again” Caroline explained. “That’s when step three comes in” Bonnie chuckled rubbing her hands together. “Step three? The last step?” Enzo asked being intrigued. “Yes, by this time it will be pretty late, everyone is going to go to sleep early” “on Christmas Eve?” Stefan scoffed shaking his head. Elena hit him gently on his chest. “We’re not actually going to be asleep but give the impression we are”.

“So that they think they are alone?” Jeremy checked after his moment of realisation. “Precisely” Caroline snapped her fingers looking proud of herself. “It will turn Christmas and they will be all sentimental after just pouring out their feelings- this will work”.

Step three-

“Wow that fire looks amazing Damon” I smiled coming into the living room. Elena and Stefan were laying down together giggling about something. And Caroline was watching whatever was on tv. “Thanks- what are they?” He nodded to the rest of the presents in my hands. “The rest of the present I hadn’t wrapped, this one’s yours” I winked putting it under the tree. “You always give good gifts y/n I have high expectations” he patted the side of the sofa now my hands were empty.

“Not too high I hope” I sighed softly as I sat down. “Stefan I’m getting tired- shall we go to bed?” Elena said quite loudly as if she wanted everyone to hear her. “Of course my darling” he kissed her hand and the both got up hand in hand. “I might follow actually- goodnight” Caroline smiled at me and Damon who were sat left confused. “It’s eleven o clock on Christmas Eve?” He frowned shaking his head.

“Yeah that was beyond weird” I pulled a disturbed face. “You’re not tired are you?” He turned to me with a smile. “Mmh Mmh no way” I shook my head. “Let’s get some drinks then” Damon nodded to the kitchen. “bourbon?” He raised an eyebrow. “Sure Damon” I laughed following him in. “If only we had some brothers bond bourbon then we’d really be having a party” Damon sighed. “What’s your obsession with that?” “Its old- it’s the first bourbon I ever tried- I was hooked but, I’ve never been able to find it again- it must have been very smally distributed” he explained to me.

“I’m sure one day you’ll be able to try it again Damon” I promoted leaning over the counter as he poured out our drinks. “Hopefully” he shrugged smiling at me. He didn’t look away though. Once he was caught on he kept staring. “Damon- you’re going to spill it” I nodded to the drink, he’d poured way too much in. “Oh” he shook his head coming back to reality and pulling the bottle away. “It’s alright nothing I can’t handle” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh I know” I turned my head to the side as he passed me my drink. “You know- I’m glad your here y/n- if I had to choose anyone I wanted to stay awake with it would have been you” he told me coming over to my side. “Well, I have the same opinion Damon” I stood up straight and he edged forward tilting his head down. “I had some good advice today, I didn’t think it was but after I’d had a thought about it…” “oh yeah? What was that advice?” I questioned swallowing nervously.

“There’s always risk in any relationship, even a friendship- us being friends that’s risky” he started, his eye contact never stopped. My stomach was twisting in every way possible. “So us being more than friends can’t be anymore risky that it already is” he breathed. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew what I wanted to do. Damon must have had the same idea because he leant towards my lips. Out of nowhere the clocked dinged indicating it was officially Christmas.

Mine and Damon’s heads swung towards the clock jumping out of our skins as we were so focused on the moment. I turned back smiling at him. “Merry Christmas handsome” I whispered putting my hand on his neck and guiding him towards my face. Damon smiled before meeting my lips and FINALLY. Finally I was kissing the man I’d dreamed of kissing for months. It was better than I’d imagined, he’d obviously had years of experience but he was a great kisser.

He pulled me closer to him by my hips kissing me passionately back, as if he didn’t want the moment to end. As if he’d wanted to do it for months. When we finally pulled away he kept me close and shined a bright grin looking into my eyes. “Merry Christmas gorgeous”. I giggled childishly into his chest and Damon pulled me into a bear hug. We heard whispering coming from the corridor before a bombarding entrance of the whole group whooping and clapping.

“Good plan girls” Stefan chuckled coming in with Elena on his hip. “Plan?” I frowned still in Damon’s arms. “Mmh, the whole of today was a set up to get you two to admit you liked each other and make a move” Caroline giggled behind her hair. My mouth dropped and I looked up to Damon. “I- can’t even be mad” he rolled his eyes laughing. “God” I put my face in my hand. “I suppose I should be thanking you” I sighed looking back up. “You’re welcome! We’re all so happy for you” Bonnie winked at us curled up in each others arms.

“Now, shall we get a few bottles open it’s Christmas!” Elena threw her arms out but Damon just laughed shaking his head. “No no no, You all wanted to go to bed, I think me and y/n want to do the same now” he smirked, my heart jumped out of my chest but I wasn’t complaining. I looked up at him with wide excitement in my eyes. “Ew!” Stefan laughed covering his ears. “Come on princess grab your stuff you know what rooms mine” Damon winked as he began walking out the room backwards.

I was in for one hell of a Christmas.

Damon mastlist-

Tvd masterlist-

All series masterlist-

Masterlist of masterlists-

228 notes · View notes

soulscollection · 9 months

Text

'𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲' 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

prompts designed around the concept of a character having a difficult day and another character arriving to help/support/care for them! i made these prompts on @soulprompts. DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST NOR REPOST IT OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN.

DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

" you look like you could use a hug. "

" please tell me you didn't cancel your plans for me... "

" don't be silly, you're much more important than some tinder date! "

" where's your jacket? i'd like to show you something, and it'll involve a bit of walking. "

" you know i'm always here for you, don't you? no matter what. "

" hey, now... i'm only ever a phone call away. "

" come on. let's get you to bed. "

" i'm listening. "

" hey, do you have any spare pajamas? i'm going to sleep on your couch tonight; that way you just need to shout if you need me. "

" what are your nightmares about? they may not be so bad if you talk about them. "

" another nightmare? "

" hey now, no more apologizing. i'm glad you called me; i meant it when i said any time, any place. "

" you know you're never a nuisance nor a burden. not to me. "

" i'm helping you, and that's final. i'm not taking no for an answer. now. where's your kitchen? i'm making us some comfort food. "

" maybe you think it's your job to look after everyone else. but it's not supposed to be like that. it works both ways. and now it's my turn to look after you. okay? "

" hey, now. you've been helping me ever since we met. it's about time i started repaying the favor. "

“ i’m so proud of you. i know it’s hard to get past these rough days, but... i still want you to know that i’m proud of you. “

“ you know, i reckon our bond is definitely strong enough to endure whatever it is that you need to get off your chest. “

“ it’s alright, now... i got you. “

“ you don’t need to worry about scaring me off. i’m not going anywhere. you can try as hard as you want, but there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me like you any less. “

“ you know, i make the best hot chocolate in the world. seriously, i’ve asked absolutely everyone on the planet. everyone except you... what do you say? wanna make it a global fact? “

“ let’s go smash some stuff until you’re ready to talk, okay? “

ACTION PROMPTS.

[ TEA ]: sender prepares a mug of hot tea for the receiver.

[ BLANKET ]: having found the receiver either sleeping or just lying on the couch, sender gently takes a blanket and drapes it over them.

[ BATH ]: sender runs a hot bath for the receiver after a particularly challenging day.

[ DINNER ]: having learned that the receiver has had a difficult time lately, sender arrives at their door with their favorite dinner and drinks.

[ COOK ]: in an effort to boost the receiver's spirits, sender arrives with all the ingredients needed to make the receiver's favorite comfort food, with the well-intended intentions of cooking it for them.

[ FORT ]: sender builds a blanket fort for the receiver following a long and difficult day.

[ HUM ]: sender hums gently under their breath to soothe and comfort a distressed receiver.

[ WIPE ]: after the receiver has stopped crying, sender tenderly leans forward, cups their face in their hands, and wipes their tears away.

[ JOURNEY ]: noticing the receiver has had a particularly rough day, sender invites them to accompany them on a walk or drive to get out of the house.

[ HAIR ]: as the receiver leans against them/lies in bed, sender begins to run their hand through their hair to soothe them until they relax or fall asleep.

[ CARRY ]: sender lifts a (nearly) sleeping receiver and carries them into their bed, tucking them in in the process.

[ GUIDE ]: sender physically guides an exhausted receiver into their bedroom, following weeks of very little sleep and very high amounts of stress.

[ BESIDE ]: receiver wakens from their first genuinely restful sleep in weeks, to find the sender asleep next to them, having been holding the receiver throughout the night to help them fall asleep.

[ BEDSIDE ]: receiver wakens from their first genuinely restful sleep in weeks, to find the sender asleep in an armchair by their bedside, having stayed there for the night in case receiver had a nightmare or needed them in any other way.

[ KISS ]: as a gesture of comfort and affection, sender leans forward to kiss the receiver on the forehead.

[ HAND ]: noticing the receiver is close to tears, or otherwise struggling with an unseen but considerable burden, sender gently takes their hand and holds it in an attempt to comfort and encourage them.

[ RUB ]: sender gently rubs receiver's back in a soothing motion.

[ TV ]: sitting next to the receiver on the sofa, sender joins them in watching their favorite show/movie on the television.

[ HOLD ]: as soon as the receiver opens the door and realizes the sender is there, sender wordlessly opens their arms out, and gives the receiver a warm, sorely needed hug.

#ask meme #roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay meme #rp meme #roleplay prompt #rp prompt #ask prompt #writing prompts #ask prompts #sentence starter #sentence starters

633 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 10 months

Note

My brain does weird things. Anyways, I think Love would steal Liebling’s seed (assuming she didn’t throw it out) and plant it for her. That just seems like a very Love thing to do.

This is really dubiously canon... Love had sticky fingers and her luck finally runs out, or does it?

You stare at the sprout pushing its way out of the dirt in your little terracotta pot. You spritz it with water, and watch the leaves curl happily. Like fingers.

"Hey Si?" You call over your shoulder. You've made some... well you hesitate to call them bad, but questionable decisions in your life. Usually your luck carries you through, but you think it may be running out on this particular gamble.

Simon hums from the couch, half listening as he sketches the monarch wing you'd found into your journal. You don't know if this is really worth his attention. You don't really know what it is. You sort of... stole it.

"Is it stealing if it was technically trash?" You ask, without really thinking. Simon's sketching stops, and he turns to look over the back of the couch.

"What did you steal?"

"Weird seed the bestie didn't want." You poke one of the leaves, letting it wrap around your finger. That gets Simon's attention. He's quick to get off the couch and over to you, pulling your finger out of the plant's grip.

"Christ Love, is that what you've been nursing all week?" Simon looks over your hand with concern, you nod until he kisses your palm giving it the all clear.

"What is it?" You poke Simon's cheek to get your hand back. He lets you go to pick up the pot and inspect the new growth.

"No clue," he tells you, "did, uh- shit-"

"Lieb."

"Works well enough," Simon pokes at the plant, watching the leaves move, "Did she tell you want it was?" You shake your head. He pinches a leaf between his fingers, inspecting it. "Doesn't look dangerous."

"Then I'll keep watering it." Simon shakes his head but settled the pot back on the windowsill.

"We'll keep an eye on it."

"We?" Simon flashes you half a smile, you return it in full force, "I love when we do stupid stuff together."

You don't know how long it's supposed to take flowers to grow, or even how they're supposed to grow, but it feels like this is going really weird.

You stare at the giant flower bud that's blossomed in your little terracotta pot. It sort of reminds you of a cabbage. It feels like a rose when you pet it, the petals under your fingers silky and soft. You don't know quite what to do with it. Simon sets a cup of tea next to your head where you're resting it against the windowsill.

"Looking good Love," You hum at the kiss he presses against the top of your head, "How's the cabbage?"

"She's fine, still overgrown and weird." You sit up, grabbing your mug and letting Simon take over the daily plant inspection.

"Doesn't look deadly yet."

"Yet."

"Yet," he agrees. You both sip your morning cup and stare at your poor decision making skills.

"You haven't put any magic in it to make it big." You confirm for the thousandth time.

"Not a drop, gardener must've dreamt this up." He reminds you, also for the thousandth time.

"Maybe we can enter it in a gardening fair or-"

Simon yanks you away from the bud as the petals quiver and bloom. You're very quickly put behind your very tense partner, forced to look around him at whatever is going on. You've never seen a flower open up that fast, but you think gravity must be doing the lions share of work. The actual rose is huge, far bigger than the bud would've suggested, and heavy enough to finally break the little pot it had been growing in.

Simon is faster than you, grabbing the flower as it's weight causes it to tumble off the windowsill. You tense, your breath caught as you wait for him to do anything, move any muscle.

"What? What is it?" You whisper after too long a moment without a breath.

"I don't-" He mumbles, catching the end of his sentence behind his teeth so he can curse, "Shit."

You peak over his shoulder, hoping you won't see your weird plant smashed to bits. Instead you stare down at a baby. The smallest thing you've ever seen cradled gently in Simon's arms, blinking big brown eyes and white lashes up at both of you. Your heart swells.

"Holy shit," you breath, watching it yawn and wiggle in its rose petal wrap. It's perfect little nose scrunches with the motion and you need a second to adjust to how cute that is. "Did we do that?" You press closer against Simon's back, and reach to stroke your fingers over the downy hair on the baby's head, "I mean she's got your eyes, it's gotta be-"

"I don't know," Simon mumbles.

"Well what are we supposed to-"

"I don't know!" He snaps, and you finally look at him. At the absolutely confusion and concern dripping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. You've never seen him cry before, well not like this at least.

"Give her to me," You tell him, sitting back and holding your arms out, he looks unsure. "Please Simon," you soften the ask, pulling a tether so he knows you're sure. He's so careful, if a little clumsy. You have to adjust his hold as he's passing the infant to you and it seems like he's watching the way you shift her in your arms for his own reference later. You hold the baby close against your chest, feeling that strange comfortable purr rise in your throat as she blinks her big eyes closed.

"What the fuck do we do?" Simon whisper yells at you.

"Call Soap right the fuck now and text Lieb that I'm gonna fucking kill her," you coo at the dozing baby in your arms. Simon nod and scrambles to find both your phones.

#fae!Ghost #oc: love #this is fluff for them since they didnt get to experience changelings #idk do we wanna give the disaster couple a baby?#i feel like Love would be the mom from mean girls? like 'if youre gonna drink id rather you do it in the house'#the cool mom that everyone thinks is insane #she is kinda insane tho #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost mwii #cod x reader #x reader #Ghost crying because he doesnt know what to do in the most extreme way anyone has ever not known what to do #i do think hed cry over his and Love's kid though #and i think those could potentially be tears of joy at having a baby with Love even if neither of them know how it happened

414 notes · View notes

helaelaemond · 6 months

Text

Little Games That We Play - Billy Washington x reader

Pairing: Billy Washington x semi-girlfriend!reader (?)

Word count: 2k

Summary: you pick Billy up from the police station after he's smashed up a butchers' shop. You're sick of him, but not so sick you can say no to getting fucked.

AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, penetrative sex, clothed sex.

Content warning(s): rough sex, mentions of Islamophobia, very brief domestic violence (reader slaps Billy)

Rating: E

For Ez, one of my beloved muses.

You march out of the police station with anger in you.

"Sunglasses?" Billy asks as he strides to keep up with you.

You pull them from your bag and shove them to his chest. "A halal butchers?" you ask, your voice full of disgust. He doesn't answer you as you make your way quickly down the stairs and to your banged up old Corsa. Not as sorry as his Cavalier, but nothing to be especially proud of.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

You can't even stomach looking at him. When you're both in the car, you open the windows and screech out of the car park and into the road, barely making it to third by the time you hit thirty.

"Aye, ease up," he tells you in a strained tone.

"You reek," is the only reply you can muster.

The rest of the drive is in silence. On the steering wheel, your knuckles are white. It takes twenty minutes with traffic to get home, and you're too angry to park neatly - half your wheel is on the pavement, and you'll probably get a ticket, but fuck it. Billy can pay for it - when he finally gets a job. The thought makes you snort, and he looks over at you.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"You ain't even got that to your name."

When he laughs in reply, it's dry, humourless. A cheap shot, you know, but Jesus. You're so angry you could push him into traffic, you really could-!

After a long pause, Billy speaks. "I int got my keys."

Silence is the answer you give him. He follows you across the road and up into the flat that you share. It's cluttered and messy and dirty, and you've been spending more and more time back at your mum's place than here lately. It's been a while since it felt like home.

On the stovetop, dirty pans wait to be washed. There's a half-finished Pot Noodle next to it, and a dish of used teabags. This isn't how you saw your life turning out. "Didn't have five minutes to clean up?"

He pours boiling water into two mugs and stirs them both without looking up. He's still wearing those sunglasses. "Didn't know when you'd be home. Didn't see the point."

"You don't help yourself, you know?"

He winces at your raised voice. "Save it, will you? My head's killing me."

"How many did you have last night?" you press. He hands you the cup of tea and you take it without thinking.

"A few."

"How many's a few?"

"I dunno. It was a wake, for fuck's sake, I wasn't counting."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should've. A butchers', Billy, a fucking butchers'?"

Billy shrugs slightly. His chin is tilted down. Without taking a sip, you set your mug on the dirty counter and grab him by the front of his black shirt.

"What are you playing at?" you hiss.

His lip curls and he turns his face away. "Leave it."

"No! You're throwing your life away, and dragging other people down with it!"

"No one cares enough to be dragged down with me."

You slap him, hard. Across his sharp cheek your hand comes, and it knocks those stupid Aviators right off his nose. "No one cares enough? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

Sometimes, Billy is as meek as anything, and he takes the nasty things people say with shining eyes and tight lips. But other times, he comes to the edge of losing control. There is no shine in his eyes now - just the glisten of something dangerous. A thrill goes through you. He catches your wrist and squeezes until it hurts. "The girl who promised she'd never leave. But you're leaving me, aren't you? You're giving up, just like everyone else."

"What do you expect me to do?" you challenge. There are butterflies in your stomach when he pulls you closer, but you fight it. He's stronger than you, though. "Sit around and watch you waste the best years of my life? Watch you drain my bank account?"

"You promised."

"Look at the state of you." Your voice is low, angry. "Dirty clothes. Dirty face. Dirty fucking life."

His lip twitches, but he makes no reply. At least not with his words. One hand winds suddenly into your hair, fingers gripping hard at the root, and he pulls until your neck is arched, and your hands grab desperately for his arms. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but his biceps are tensed and you hate how much you love the strain in the muscles.

"You're not a man," you hiss. "You need to grow up."

The hate in his heart has put distance between you. But the fire in his eyes is nothing but passion and love for you, you know. It's not enough for you anymore.

It still makes your pussy wet.

And when he shoves you against the messy counter, stomach first, you know what's coming. "Then why are you still here?" he mutters against your ear.

With his half-hard cock grinding in his filthy joggers against your backside, it's difficult to keep your mind on words, let alone an answer to such a complex question. Because you love him. Because you're filled with hope. Because you promised to stay.

You think of how ashamed he sounded on the phone this morning when he asked you to pick him up. You had been the one that he wanted when everything had gone to shit - when he had ruined everything. It was still you. "Because you called."

It comes out more tenderly than you intended. He grunts, and his hips stutter. "You fucking love me. Don't you?"

Gripping onto the countertop, you suppress a shiver and shake your head slightly. "No."

"Yeah, you do." Behind you, Billy shoves up your dress and presses his hand between your thighs. His long fingers rub over your underwear, and with his soft breaths at your ear, he slips them underneath. Between your folds he dips, and he groans to find you hot, the beginning of slickness pooling at your entrance. "Oh, yeah, that's what I thought."

"You don't deserve me," comes your defiant reply. It's punctuated by stiff breaths that give you away, though.

He smells unwashed, and stale beer clings to him like dust. It wraps you up in a haze of devotion and disgust. When he pushes his joggers down, you think of where they've been. He was wearing them when he carried out a hate crime, and when he was picked up by police sitting on the filthy pavement. In the police car and then the cells he wore them, and there are stains on them that you dread to think the origin of.

"Bend over," he tells you.

"No."

He growls against your ear. "Bend over."

"Make me."

And he does. With a hard hand on the back of your neck, he forces you to bend over where you stand. Before you have a moment to think, the blunt head of his cock nudges between your spread thighs, and he sinks into you like he owns you.

"Don't pretend you're too good for me," Billy mutters once he's deep inside you, his groin pressed against your backside. "That's not a fun game."

Your head rests on the counter, eyes closed. In front of you is the dish of teabags. It smells strangely comforting. "This isn't a game."

"Yeah, it is." He slams back and forth into you, once, twice, thrice, and then he pauses. "You love these little games that we play."

You hiss very quietly. "Get on with it."

"Oh?" There's a smirk in his voice now. Smug cunt.

"Just- just do it."

"Do you need it?" he asks. His pace begins smooth and slow. He knows what he's doing.

"Billy," you say through gritted teeth.

"What?"

You are going to have to swallow your pride. At least for a moment. Hopefully it'll be worth it. "Fuck me properly or not at all."

"You want it hard?"

Shit. He knows exactly what he's doing. You hate him for it. "Yes."

"Say it."

"No."

The hand on the back of your neck squeezes in a silent threat. His voice turns cold. It makes your blood run hot. "Say it."

"Fuck you!"

Billy scrapes his nails over your scalp before grasping your hair again and yanking you up slightly. He hisses against your ear. "Say it for me. Or I'll stop."

In a moment of quiet, you consider him. You could walk away now with your dignity. But, God, you feel so empty without him. And now he's inside you and you shift your hips slightly and even that tiny stimulation makes your eyes roll. "Oh, God. F-fuck. Fuck me. Hard."

And he does.

He fucking does.

The noise of your coupling in the little kitchen is obscene. Your skin slaps together as the slickness between your bodies echoes, barely covered by Billy's groans and your laboured breaths. His cock fills you perfectly, pounding into you again and again like you're unbreakable. He fucks you like you belong to him.

It makes your thighs tremble. He doesn't have the decency to touch you anywhere else this time. Sometimes, he spends hours worshipping your whole body, kissing and caressing your skin until you feel like a shrine of his love, godly and devotional. But here, now... he fucks you like he doesn't love you. But like he needs you.

"Fuck!" Billy bites your ear before licking around it. "You gonna keep your mouth shut next time?"

"No," you whine. "You're a piece of shit."

He slides his hand from the back of your neck to your throat, and pulls you up slightly. It makes your hips tilt and back arch, and the new angle makes your knees weak.

"I think you will." Words are punctuated by hard thrusts that feel so good they almost hurt. "Gonna make me come."

"Hand," you tell him. With one still around your throat, the other goes between your legs and his fingers rub a brutal rhythm over your clit. He presses your hot flesh hard and fast until you go weak in his arms. He holds you upright like it's nothing. Like you're nothing.

"Fuck, fuck-!"

"Billy, yes, yes, don't stop, don't-!"

He groans your name. "Fuck, fuck, gonna make me come, I'm-! Yes, oh, God yes, yes, yes-!"

Your orgasm crashes over you at the sound of him reaching his peak, and your knees give way. He holds you tight and strains up on his toes to bury himself as deep as he can, spilling inside you with a gutteral cry. Pleasure erupts from between your legs through your whole body, crashing over you in waves. The hand against your cunt holds you firm, giving you something to keep focus on as aftershocks make you twitch.

"I've got you," he mutters after his moans have subsided. You lean back in his arms, utterly spent. There are no thoughts left in your mind. Floating. You're just floating.

But what goes up, must come down.

"Let go," you mumble.

"Hmm?" His lips are at your neck, soft kisses making your skin tingle.

You push him away. It makes you wince when his cock slips, half hard, out of you. He made your underwear chafe against your thigh when he pushed it aside, you realise now. "Get off."

Billy hangs his head. Hastily, he pulls up his joggers and grabs his mug from the side. You notice the cuts on his knuckles have opened up again. Whatever. That's his own fault.

"Stay."

You look up at him. He avoids your gaze. "Billy..."

"Just... stay."

"Don't ask me that after... after that. You know I..."

"You what?" he asks. And then he looks at you with shining eyes.

"I can't say no to you like this. You... you know that."

He nods. "Yeah. That's why I did it."

It should make you hate him. It's bad enough that he did it, let alone admit it - he fucks you like this to keep you tied to him. But you don't hate him. Instead of leaving, you take your tea and follow him to the couch. Together, you sit down, and drink in silence. You'll stay. Come what may.

#billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x oc #ewan mitchell #mine #ewanverse #NOT PART OF ITS ALL FOR U SERIES..... THIS IS JUST A NASTY SIDE PIECE.... EHEHEHEEH

205 notes · View notes

assortedseaglass · 6 months

Text

Curl Into Me

Billy Washington x AFAB Reader

Summary: Billy looks after you during your period.

Content Tags: Fluff, Drabble, Language, Talk of Feminine/Reproductive Health, Suggestive Language, Talk of Period Sex

Notes: Guess what came early? 🩸🩸🩸

“Babe?” Billy kicked the door closed behind him with a trainered foot. “Babe? Took a while ‘cause they didn’t have any of those ones you wanted in Boots. Had to pop to Superdrug to get ‘em, then off to Sainsbury’s for supplies.”

Nothing.

“Babe?”

Shrugging of his jacket and kicking off his shoes, Billy padded through the small flat and into the lounge.

He’d left you there an hour ago, curled amongst the cushions watching some trash on the telly. A few scrunched up tissues remained, an empty packet of paracetamol and an unwrapped chocolate bar.

The open plan room was empty. He filled the kettle in the small kitchenette, placed a peppermint teabag in one mug and a Yorkshire tea in another, and made his way to the bedroom.

“Babe?”

He pushed the door open a little. Light was streaming into the room, the white sheets invitingly crumpled and glowing under the bright sun’s rays. Billy would never get over this room.

In the old flat, his bedroom was like a cardboard box. Dark, brown, damp, uninviting. Made simply for sleeping, clothes littered the floor along with empty glasses and dirty plates. Whether it was an old habit or the result of his trouble state of mind, Billy wasn’t sure, but he’d never drawn the curtains nor made the bed. Here it was different.

You bounded into his life like a whirligig, full of curiosity, patience and open-hearted joy. Spent endless nights in the pub listening to him pour his heart out. Tentatively invited him to back to your new flat, the one you’d since decorated together. Helped piece himself back together, along with the small home you’d made your own, with picture frames and matching mugs. Your record collection alongside his games.

The little flat was just as bright as that day you’d unpacked the final box. Sure, the bookshelf needed dusting and there were a few dirty mugs in the sink, but you’d get to those later. Together.

Billy looked around the room. At the pillows rearranged on the bed. The abandoned romance book on the duvet. The blanket hanging of the frame.

-I will but you a bottle of wine

And we’ll laugh and toast to nothing

And smash our empty glasses down

Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers

A round for these friends of mine-

Shit. Joni could only mean one thing. Her voice crooned from the record player and, at the sniffle from the corner of the room, Billy found you.

You’d dragged a pillow from the bed, folding yourself around its lumpy shape on the floor. Your comfy jogging bottoms and been discarded, and the two hot water bottles you owned were pressed against your back and tummy.

Through the mess of uncombed hair, you looked up at Billy from your position on the floor.

“Did you get chocolate?” You croaked.

He laughed a little and held up the plastic bag of essentials. He couldn’t help it. Some sick part of him loved seeing you so weak and needy. At last, a chance for Billy to step up and look after you, just as you had always done for him.

“Get on the bed?”

“I don’t want to move,” your voice was a pathetic whinge of pain and tiredness.

“Alright,” Billy got down on the floor beside you. “Here,” he handed you a sharing bar of Dairy Milk and, with his back braced against the bedframe, pulled you back onto his chest.

You groaned as your muscles stretched. “Kettle’s on, I’ll refill your bottle in a minute.” Billy’s hands wound their way to your front and removed the hot water bottle there. The skin beneath your tatty tshirt was red raw and hot to touch. “You’ll burn yourself,”

“It’s the only thing that helps,”

“Let me,” In slow, tender semi-circles, Billy massaged your lower stomach.

God, he was good to you. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Bath later, yeah?”

You could do nothing but nod. His hands rubbing your tender body, the chocolate, the heat from the hot water bottles. This was all you needed. If you could stay like that for the next, you would. Fuck, Billy would let you if you asked.

When you’d brought Billy home to meet your parents, they were nervous. You’d told them about his past; better to be transparent. Billy was best taken at face value. What you saw was what you got, and why complicate it by skirting over what had happened to him? Their worry had eased at once, however, when they saw how dedicated he was to you. How he made the effort to talk to each of them, interested in what they had to say. How he pressed his hand to your back and gazed at you, even when you weren’t talking to him. They couldn’t have chosen gentler soul for you.

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,”

He looked down at you, kissing your temple as he did so. “What for?”

“Going out and getting my stuff. Looking after me-”

“Jesus Christ, I’d be a prick if I didn’t-”

“I know,” you laughed at him. “But thank you.”

You sat there on the floor together, Billy rubbing circles into your stomach and back until Joni finished her singing and the record crackled on the deck.

“How you feeling?”

“Better, a little crampy, but better.” You sat up and turned to face him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You know,” Billy smirked as he chased your lips and settled his hands on the skin of your hips. “I did a little reading about what else helps periods, you know.”

“Billy Washington, you angel.” You teased, kissing his neck tenderly.

“Mmm,” he rubbed your sides lazily. What was the rush? A day of cuddles and cups of tea was all either of you needed. “Rosemary tea is meant to help the cramps, stretching your legs too, for some reason. And erm,” he faltered as you kissed his collarbone. “Sex, apparently.”

You stopped your kisses and looked at him with a smirk. “Getting ideas?”

Billy blushed. “It doesn’t heart to try. Said orgasms can help relax the muscles, and make periods shorter.” He was rubbing his neck, trying not to let his ulterior motives show. He’d do anything for your comfort, but if it was nice for him too? Even better.

You were still staring at him. What if you thought he was disgusting?

“We don’t have to, you know, fuck or anything.” Jesus Christ, he felt like a teenager. “But, I can give you an orgasm, if it would help-”

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t be so embarrassed.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Maybe later?”

Billy nodded. “No pressure, though.”

“I know,” you laughed and settled against his chest. “Rub my back again?”

He did so diligently, and you hummed. “I love you, Bill.”

His hands squeezed you gently against him, and you inhaled his scent of laundry detergent and cheap cologne.

“I love you too,”

Notes: Fluffy fluffy fluff fluff.

General Taglist: @arcielee @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @babyblue711 @ewanmitchellcrumbs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @humanpurposes @whoknows333

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #billy washington x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #trigger point #assortedseaglass

285 notes · View notes

the-little-ewok · 8 months

Text

Collateral Damage

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 6800 (ish)

Warnings : Friends to lovers, sort of slow burn I suppose, angst, fluff, reader has a fear of flying, arguing, vague illusions to Poe's torture by the FO, vague mention of parental death (Poe's mom), mentions of panic attacks.

Summary : Poe finds out you are scared to fly, and makes it a personal challenge to fix that. Only spending so much time together, causes some complications.

A/N : there's a few bits here that mention Poe's past as a child which is from Freefall however there are no direct Freefall spoilers contained, and it isn't necessary to have read it to enjoy this.

To the anon that requested an angst to fluff Poe fic...I hope you enjoy!

"Poe, please don't look at me like that!" You beg.

"Like what?" Poe gives you a genuinely confused look, as though he hasn't been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you're a particularly complex puzzle he needs to work out.

"Like there's something wrong with me," you sigh, twisting the mug of tea nervously in your hands.

"I never said that! But seriously? You're scared? Of flying? This is a joke right?"

"I just think if we were made to fly we'd have wings is all." You shrug, trying to be nonchalant as you sip your drink, your fingers pressing hard into the china as you try to ignore his shock. You don't look up but you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"How did I not know this? How have you hidden it from me of all people! I'm equally impressed and offended." You suspect by his tone he's more offended than impressed, but it was never truly your intention to hide it from him. The secret just sort of… happened.

When you were children you barely knew Poe, not until after he returned to Yavin, his eyes a little darker than they had been before, his steps a little more calculated, though no less bold. When you started helping Kes out around the little farm he bought, you had gotten to know Poe a lot better. Barely tolerating him at first, before you fell into an close friendship. It had been easy enough to deny his requests to go flying with him in the early days, especially given the amount of trouble he got into.

Then when you were older Poe seemed to flit in and out of your life. Between the academy, the navy, and now the resistance, sometimes it seemed like he was never around.

But he always reappeared eventually. He came back to Yavin sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He used your back garden like his personal shipping yard, but you never had the heart to tell him off about it, despite the fact you had smashed more than your fair share of crockery in shock at the sudden noise of a roaring engine coming down on your house.

Everytime he asked if you wanted to go flying you found some excuse not to, sometimes elaborate ones you aren't even sure Poe believed. You assume perhaps he thought you were avoiding spending time alone with him, which was in part true some of the time.

You could have told him the truth, but the way he lit up when he talked about flying — the freedom of it, the adventure of it — had always made the words dry in your mouth. He couldn't possibly understand, and you knew he would react, well, exactly as he had.

"I didn't! You never asked, and it never came up in conversation. It shouldn't have tonight. It's irrelevant. I don't need to fly," you shrug stubbornly, wanting to get away from the topic if only to stop the quizzical gaze he's fixed you with since it came up.

"But-but there's a whole galaxy you're missing out on!" He splutters, still wide eyed with shock. "You can't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life on Yavin."

"I like Yavin!"

Poe gives a huff of disbelief at you, folding his arms.

"Liar."

"You know Poe, not all of us have the need to fly out into the night and get blown to pieces like you," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes, frustrated at his reaction. "Anyways it's late. I should go."

Getting up you put your mug in the sink and grab your jacket, intent on leaving and finding some way to avoid this topic for the next however many years, probably forever.

"Hey, hey, don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" Poe begs getting up and taking a gentle grip of your arm to prevent you moving. You ignore the fire that ignites your skin where his fingers are wrapped loosely around your arm.

"Tell me what scares you? About flying I mean? Let me try and understand," he pleads.

Taking a breath you sigh. How could you explain it to someone who spent their whole life up there? How could you explain it to someone who lived and breathed the freedom of the flight?

"Pilots die, all the time. Things go wrong, fights, pirates, technical failures…" you trail off with a wave of your hand, freeing your arm from his gentle grip, not used to his touch. "I just…can't stand the thought of dying alone out there in the cold. It's hard enough worrying about that happening to you."

"You sound like my dad," Poe sighs quietly. "He didn't want me flying either. Not after my mom."

Reaching back out you squeeze his hand briefly, knowing that while the relationship between Poe and Kes had somewhat mended over the years, some cracks ran too deep to ever be fully healed.

"You know, Kes never shuts up about you flying. Always talking about what a good pilot you are and how your mom would be so proud of you, how you fly just like her. I swear it's all I heard for weeks the last time you were here."

Poe falls quiet for a long moment, deep in thought, a frown etched deep into his brow.

"He's proud of you, Poe. I know he struggles to say it sometimes, but he is," you offer gently.

Poe waves a hand nonchalantly, as though it doesn't bother him, but you know it does.

"Well you know my dad likes to keep things to himself, but apparently not from you," he eyes you somewhat suspiciously. "He likes you, you know. He told me once I should marry you. Imagine that, us, married."

He lets out a snort of a laugh as he shakes his head at the thought. You want to make a joke about it, you want to laugh it off and tell him you'd never agree to it even if he asked, but the spark of feelings you've so carefully navigated all these years flared to life suddenly and in full force at his words.

There's always been something between you, something a little more than friendship, something you both know can't be. Something both of you have avoided talking about for a long time now.

Perhaps when you were younger maybe you could have figured something out, but Poe was hardly ever around and now, well now your worlds were too far apart. Yours here on the ground, his far off in the stars. It was better not to prod too hard at open wounds, but Poe's laughter at the thought of you together, still cuts deeply.

Something must flicker across your expression because his amusement dies and Poe gives you a half smile.

"It's just, you know, you're seeing someone. Aren't you?"

"It didn't work out." You shrug as though you don't care. The truth was it never worked out, because you would always be in love with someone else. How were you supposed to give your heart away when at any given moment the one that makes it beat could drop from the sky without warning?

"Oh," he sounds genuinely sad which only drives the knife further in. You drop your eyes from his, pulling at a loose thread on your jacket as he continues. "I'm sorry. You'll meet someone else though! Although maybe…. Off this planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. Really you shouldn't be surprised that he found a way to spin the topic right back to your issues with flying, which you suppose was better than your love life so at least there was that.

"Oh come on. You can't be scared if you haven't tried it! Lemmie take you!" Poe sounds like an excited child on life day. Clearly the thought of conquering your fear appealed to him.

"Absolutely not! I've seen the way you fly!"

"Did you not just say even my dad thinks I'm good at flying? And besides," he leans on the counter, a shit eating grin plastering his face, "didn't you hear I'm the best pilot in the resistance?"

You roll your eyes at his cocky statement.

"Poe, I've heard a great deal of things about you over the years, not all of them I can believe and most of them I've had to defend your good name against!"

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like a curious loth cat.

"Like what?"

You quickly go through the ment rollerdex of things you've heard, deciding to pick out your favourite.

"Like… the time you apparently almost married a Hutt."

Poe opens his mouth and then closes it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a tin of tea on the side. He picks it up, rolling it between his palms, purposely not looking at you.

"Well, really that wasn't even my fault," he mumbles eventually, realising you aren't going to fill the expectant silence.

He can't seriously have done that? The ridiculous story can't possibly be the truth?

"You have to be kidding me! I got into the biggest argument that you wouldn't be so stupid to get into something with them. Do I even want to know the real story?"

You had vehemently defended your friend, arguing well into the night that while yes, Poe was reckless, and yes sometimes he spoke without thinking, and yes sometimes trouble found him, you were still absolutely sure the story was completely untrue. You suppose you have a few apologies to make now.

"It's not like I intended to agree to the marriage! It just sort of… happened."

You stare at him, open mouthed waiting for the rest of the story, knowing he won't be able to resist defending himself. But instead of launching into a lengthy explanation he grins, setting the tea down slowly and fixing you with an expression you are all too familiar with. The one he uses when he knows he's about to get something he wants.

"Trade. I'll fly you somewhere. Then I'll tell you."

And there it was. He knew you wanted to know the truth, unable to resist a good story about the far off places he visited and troubles he got into. You should have predicted the bastard would use that against you.

You fold your arms.

"No."

"I'll just fly you to the other side of Yavin? Short trip, in and out."

"No!"

Poe sighs dramatically, pushing himself up off the counter.

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you the whole story if you let me show you around my ship and tell you how unscary it is to fly. Strictly no piloting."

"Please agree so you can both shut up. It's after midnight, and the noise you two make will bring the first order down on our heads without them even looking!" Kes Dameron booms from the hallway, making both of you jump.

"Sorry dad!" Poe yells while he gives you a grin of victory.

"Sorry Kes! I'm leaving now." With a sigh of resignation you slip on your jacket. "Fine. No flying."

"No flying," Poe agrees with a nod, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers invitingly. You hesitate to take it, but he slides his hand into yours anyway, squeezing your fingers. "I'll walk you home."

You try not to think about how right it feels to have your hand in his.

"Poe, Poe," you repeat a little louder as he continues rambling away, pointing to the different parts of his X-Wing, a misty look in his eyes. You're sure you lost him a good while ago, and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for you to explain you have no idea what he's talking about.

"You have to put your hand up to ask a question when I'm teaching," he chides you teasingly. Rolling your eyes you put your hand up, glaring at him when he grins silently at you for a long drawn out moment. Just as your patience breaks, opening your mouth to ask anyway, he cuts in first.

"You have a question?"

"Several," you respond dryly. "Firstly, can you please slow down? I've no idea what you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you've told me about everything that can go wrong and now I want to be near this thing even less. Thirdly -"

"This thing? This thing?" He interupts, his eyes going wide with shock. "This thing is a T-70 X-wing. I've done a lot of work on this thing!"

"I apologise I insulted your ship," you laugh, watching his brows pull together in an annoyed frown. Maker, Flyboys! As cute as he was you couldn't really expect any other reaction.

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to her!" He points at his ship before he folds his arms stubbornly, as though he's actually serious. You pause for a moment, realising he is serious.

"Thirdly, I don't think this is helping and I'm sure you have better things to be doing," You continue, ignoring his sulk. Poe drops his arms, his expression softening.

"It is helping," he insists. "If you know what can go wrong then you know how to fix it, or how to account for it at the least. Then that part isn't so scary anymore. I promise."

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your chest, the low hum of anxiety vibrating under your ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm not being ungrateful. It's very nice of you to do this."

"You don't think I can do it," he grins and you roll your eyes at him for what feels like the thousandth time since he's been back.

"I'm not a challenge," you remind him with a glare.

"You kinda are though," he grins. Trust Poe to see this as some sort of game he can win. "Come on. You can trust me. I know about these things. How'd you think I survived this long?"

"Sheer dumb luck?"

Poe laughs, a deep elated noise that brings a smile to your lips and makes your heart ache with affection. It seems so rare these days that he truly laughs like that, and when he does, here with you, it only makes his inevitable absence harder to swallow.

"Probably a bit of that too," he admits with a shrug. "Okay, new plan."

He plonks himself down on the ground, patting the space in front of him for you. When you're settled opposite him he takes both your hands in his. When you try to pull away, the touch giving a jolt in your chest, he grips your fingers tighter, forcing you to stay with him. It's an all too familiar dance now. You push him away, and he only proceeds to try and hold you closer. When he's here you wish he wouldn't, but when he's gone, you ache for his easy familiarity.

He gives you a genuine open look, and your heart aches a little that he's truly trying to help when you feel so beyond helping.

"What do you think about when you get scared? When you think about being up there. What is it that worries you so much?"

"I guess dying alone?" You suppress a shudder at the thought of floating out there in the darkness, no one to hear you scream for help.

The pilot doesn't even miss a beat before he answers quickly.

"Okay, I'd be with you so that's not a problem. We would die together."

You glare at him, unamused. Ignoring your vehement stare he gestures for you to continue.

"Fine. Being shot out of the sky. Lot of time to think about dying while you're plummeting to the ground."

He gives you a grin, "We both know that's not an issue because I'm a great pilot, so no matter where we are I promise you I'll land safely, all parts intact, especially all the bits I like," he winks and you desperately try to ignore the flare of heat on your skin. "I've done it so many times I could do it in my sleep! Next problem."

"Kidnapped by pirates." You shoot quickly.

"They'll give you back after half an hour." Poe snorts with laughter when you reach out and slap his arm hard.

"Asshole," you grumble, fighting back a smile.

He grins at you, clearly enjoying himself at your expense and while you should mind his teasing, you find it hard to care, not when his eyes are lit up with genuine joy.

"You are really not helping," you laugh eventually, shaking your head. "I'm a lost cause."

"Not entirely, just mostly. I mean none of these are good reasons to be scared," Poe smiles and you have to admit it chafes you a little that he still doesn't seem to understand.

"I never said my fear was rational."

"It's not entirely irrational either," Poe acknowledges with a shrug, finally allowing you to pull your hands out of his while he taps his chin in thought. You curl your fingers into your palms, willing away the memory of his touch.

"What you need is a distraction!" Poe proclaims brightly. For a shocked moment you think he's talking about a distraction from him, which is entirely exactly what you need. But he keeps talking and you realise it's nothing like that, although he inadvertently makes you distracted anyway, from flying at least.

"Yeah, something to take your mind off getting up there."

You shake your head, knowing it won't work. Suddenly this whole thing seems like a bad idea. Poe wasn't one to give up, and yet over the years you've tried just about everything to get over your fear. A weariness starts to creep in, encouraging you to make your excuses and leave.

"I doubt anything would distract me that much. Anyway, I think we should do something else. Flying isn't that important." You try, knowing it's hopeless now you've encouraged him this much.

"What if I flew naked?" He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. His constant blatant flirting is starting to take a toll, and you can't muster even a smile this time. He knows, yet he does it anyway. It's infuriating sometimes, purposely poking and prodding when you're just trying to get by without spilling your heart all over the grass.

"Coming from the person who laughed at the notion of us being married, I don't see how you think I'd care about that." You don't quite mean to bite it out the way you do, but Poe ignores your attitude and leans back on his arms, gazing at you.

"Yeah, because we'd argue all day long about everything. I'd be messy, and you'd want a tidy house, we would fight over what to have for dinner, because you won't believe I'm the better cook, I'd want to paint the walls blue, but you'd want green. You'd want to live here and I wouldn't." He waves his hand, indicating that there would be a longer list of issues if he continued. "The thought of us being married is funny because it would be chaotic, not because I don't love you."

The words hit you like a shot, and judging by the look of fear on the pilot's face he probably hadn't thought them through before they left his mouth.

"Guess the cats out of the bag now. Well, suppose it was never really fully in the bag anyway," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy curls, before he stares up at the sky. "I mean, I know we've never….I know we've never gone down that road, but you know I've always had a soft spot for you."

You knew. Of course you knew. You both held an affection for each other, but you also know it wasn't meant to be. Maker knows you've spent your life trying to get over him, and Poe… well he never breathed a word about his feelings in the matter. You assumed he had moved on some time ago. If his list of conquests was anywhere half true, he moved on quite well.

You avoid his gaze, looking down at the dirt. "Love is a lot different than a soft spot. Seems funny you never mentioned that before."

Poe swallows, sitting back up properly and reaching to take your hands, you snatch them back before he has a chance, a swell of anger starting in your chest. There is no need for him to tell you this. You don't want him to tell you this. It won't make any difference to say it out loud.

"I knew I couldn't stay so what was the point? You've said yourself how much you love Yavin. Who was I to ask you to give it all up? You deserve someone who could be there for you, where you wanted to be. You still deserve someone like that."

"So why bring it up when you know it isn't you?" You snap angrily, getting to your feet, panic pulsing through your veins. While you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, in reality you have no idea how to react. Suddenly the open wound becomes a sinkhole, and every wall you've placed around your feelings starts to crumble in. Your chest constricts with panic. He can't do this now. Not after all this time. You won't be able to rebuild what he's torn down. This will burn your friendship to the ground.

"Because I'm selfish," the pilot admits, jumping up and following you as you storm across the garden towards the house, the flaring pain in your chest getting worse with each word that leaves his mouth. You won't talk about this. You can't talk about this.

"Yes, you are! You blaze in and out of my life and everytime I think I might have a chance to mend myself, you come tearing down from the sky. Maybe it is about time to actually have this conversation so we can both move on!" You spin on your heel to face him, stepping back when he reaches for you again.

If he touches you now you won't ever be able to let him go, he'll find a way to calm you down and you don't want to be calm. You want to be angry. You want to yell, scream, and let out every feeling you've kept locked inside. You want him to feel even a small spark of what he's done to you for years. You need to be angry.

"Why can't we just be together now?" He interrupts your rant.

"What's the point, Poe? You know I won't leave, I can't leave. And you can't stay. It won't work and we both know it."

"We don't know that because we haven't tried!" He implores passionately. "You can come with me! The resistance would be lucky to have you. If you just try! If you just let me show you. I promise it's not so scary, and then we can go anywhere we like!"

"I can't do it, Poe. I just can't and there's no point trying to make you of all people understand that."

You turn to leave but this time he's quicker than you, reaching out and catching hold of your wrist.

"So this is how it ends is it? We dance around this for years and then we just do what? Give up?" The pain lacing his voice is enough to make your lip tremble as you bite back the tears.

"You're right. We've danced around this for years because we both know it isn't going to work! Why now? Why after all this time decide to drag all this up now?"

"Because we are in the middle of a war. Because I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Because I might not be here to tell you this, and for some reason it kills me that I might be gone and you would never know that I loved you. I've waited years for you to find someone who makes you happy, someone who gives you everything I can't, but everytime I come here I know it hurts you because it hasn't happened. And I need you to know that someone, that I, love you. I don't think I can just walk away this time." He sounds resigned and it crumbles away every last brick you had to protect yourself. Poe doesn't think he's going to survive this war. In the end, he knows he's going to leave you anyway.

It makes you angry to hear him talk that way. Poe was the upbeat one. Poe was the one who always figured a way out. He doesn’t just accept the inevitable. And you don't need him concerned about you either.

"Well you should just walk away, because I don't need your pity!" You yell, feeling the hot tears escaping your eyes.

"That's not what it is!" Poe takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself and de-escalate the situation. "I'm just trying to be honest with you for once. I can't just leave and say nothing this time."

"You mean like you have every time you disappear into the sky for months on end?" You laugh bitterly.

The pilot swallows, his eyes searching yours, pleadingly, begging you to understand why now, but the anger still swells in your chest.

"I've always come back to you. Every time I can. For Makers sake do you think I'd be here so often if you weren't?"

When you say nothing Poe frowns, reading your expression all too clearly.

"You won't even consider coming with me? You won't even try?"

You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you shake your head.

"I can't. We can't and you know it. I…can't leave. I can't leave," you repeat in a whisper, shaking your head, the tears flowing fast down your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Poe apologies softly, reaching out to take your arms, drawing you close to him. You try to fight it, pulling your body away, but Poe ignores you, holding you tight against him until you stop fighting, allowing him to hug you tightly.

"I know you can't leave," he admits, letting you go to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your cooled skin, his thumb sweeping away tears. "You don't have to, okay? Just say the word. Say the word and I'll be here, with you. I'll stay right here so we can try. Tell me that's what you want. Tell me you feel the same and I'll do it."

You know what he's offering, and you know he can't fulfil it. He's speaking without thinking it through, in desperation, trying to fix things, to fix the damage his words have done.

You wish you could accept it, but the thought of Poe grounded, here, a place he fought so hard to escape, causes an ache in your chest. You know it can't be that way.

Maybe he would give it all up for you, but it would never be enough. Not for him. Eventually the cracks would form, and he'd be gone, and leave you so much more broken than you already were.

"Tell me you feel the same," he whispers, leaning into you.

"Don't do this," you beg softly, bring your hands up to rest on his arms to push him away. You can't seem to make your body follow through with the action.

"Then stop me," Poe challenges, his hand sliding around the back of your neck. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

Maker, he was going to break your heart. He won't stay, he can't stay. You won't make him do that, not for you. But you're sick of fighting it, sick of trying to pretend. He's here, with you, wanting you. Just this once, once can't hurt.

The screeching beep of his comms stops you both, the sudden insistent noise cutting through the tension and your own clouded thoughts, making you step away from him quickly. Poe lets you go, his expression pained, though he doesn't move to answer the incoming call.

Swallowing hard you gesture to his pocket, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful of what you might find there.

"You should get that."

"Yeah," he nods distractedly, taking a breath and fishing the comm out. He holds it in his hands, glaring at it before his gaze flickers back to you. "Can we talk later?"

You hesitate initially but then nod. Later gave you time to think, to process everything, to try to explain to him why this can't be. Maybe you can salvage your friendship after some time apart.

A tiny voice in your head whispers the vicious truth. It was too late for that.

It's less than an hour before he leaves again, back on urgent business for the resistance. You hadn't opened the door when he came to say goodbye. You hadn't answered when he asked if you wanted him to stay, and you hadn't the strength to smile and see him off this time. He left you with the memory of his muffled voice, promising he will come back, promising he'll figure out a way to make this work, begging you to think, to try.

For once you're grateful he's gone. At least he isn't around to see the damage.

The tea Kes Dameron had pressed into your hands has long since gone cold as you stare out at the grass, little shoots growing where previously a star fighter engine had burnt them away, one that so far hadn't returned, and perhaps never would.

There's a sigh behind you, a creak of the porch steps as Kes sits down next to you. The older man had come to help you fix the flickering light in the kitchen, something you'd have once asked Poe how to fix, allowing him to instruct you via comlink, teasing and laughing at your questions and frustrations. But you hadn't spoken to Poe, not in months now, too ashamed and regretful of your behaviour, and too fearful of what speaking with him may bring up.

"He was asking about you again earlier. You can't keep avoiding his comms."

You can feel Kes's eyes on you but you refuse to look up from the dent in the grass. You don't need to ask who he means.

"I'm not. Poe calls at bad times."

Kes makes a disbelieving noise, taking the now cold mug out of your hands and setting it down to the side, making you finally look up.

"It's been a bad time for the past two months. What happened between you?" He frowns at you.

"Nothing." It was the truth. In the end nothing had happened, not really. But the almost of it, the almost hurt worse.

You don't want to talk about Poe. You don't want to think about it. But the next question slips out without you being able to stop it.

"How is he?"

Kes lets out a long breath.

"You know Poe, all smiles and reassurances but he hasn't been the same. Not since…" Kes trails off and your stomach gives a now familiar lurch at the memory of Kes turning up at your door, pale and scared, stuttering out that the First Order had captured his son. As far as you know Poe never told Kes what happened in those days he was gone, but if the stories you heard were even half true, you're surprised he made it out alive.

"He needs someone there," Kes continues eventually.

"He has his squadron." You ignore what Kes is implying. It's a conversation you've had a hundred times over now. It makes your chest ache in a now all too familiar way.

"He needs you, and for all your denial you need him. You can't spend your whole life moping around here. I can make the arrangements to get you there. You just have to say the word."

You had tried in the weeks following his departure to do as he asked, to fly. You had walked to the shipping yard every day, listened to the roar of the engines, talked to the pilots, tried with every fibre to set foot on a ship, any ship, but you couldn't do it.

You had come to accept that you were right to distance yourself. There was no way for you to be together.

"Kes, I can't do that. I… me and Poe… we just aren't… our lives don't fit together." The shame burns in your chest that you couldn't be there for him when he needed someone the most, after his escape from the First Order.

Kes scoffs in an all too familiar way. You wonder if Poe knows where he got that reaction from, if he knows how much like his father he can be.

"Don't fit together? You kids," Kes rolls his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever easy. If you want something enough you'll find a way through it. Poe's mother," he hesitates, the words catching in his throat. It's rare for Kes to mention Shara, but when he does, it always seems it causes him physical pain. The older man swallows hard before he continues, looking up at the sky.

"She was a free spirit like Poe. But she loved with her whole heart, and so does he. He'd give up the world for you. Don't let your fear hold you back. Don't make the same mistake with him that I did. If you do, you may lose him forever."

Kes was right in a way, your fear was holding you back, it always had. You'd always known Poe's heart was in the stars, and your fear would never let you leave the ground. But Poe had offered to give his world up for you — his stars, his resistance, his freedom. Even if he couldn't stick to it, he was willing to try.

Maybe you could try again. For him.

Poe is still in his flight suit, his hair damp and messy, helmet clutched in one hand, talking animatedly with another pilot who you vaguely recognise, who apparently knows you straight away. The pilot nudges Poe — who continues to chatter away obviously— before forcefully spinning him around to point at you.

You can tell you are probably the very last person he's expecting. His eyes go wide and he blinks a few times, as though he's imagining you here. He opens and closes his mouth but whatever words he wanted to get out, don't seem to come, or at least you can't hear them across the yard.

You hadn't told him you were coming. In fact, you still hadn't answered a single one of his comms. It's not that you hadn't wanted to talk to him, but more that you hadn't wanted to disappoint him if, in the end, you couldn't go through with it. Getting here had taken weeks, the trip was rearranged three times after you found yourself unable to get on the ship, and in the end Kes had dragged you in himself and tied you into your seat, reasoning that you needed a push. He was probably right, but you would still be having words when you saw him again.

Raising a hand to Poe you give him a small wave, glad that you landed a good few hours before he returned from whatever mission run he was on this time. It had given you time to clean up and compose yourself, for the shaking to finally stop.

You hesitate in the landing bay, unsure if you should go over or stay put. Poe decides for you because the moment you move a foot forward, he runs to you, skidding to a stop almost toe to toe with you.

"Here-you-h-how?" He stutters out looking you over, as though you might have been kidnapped and dragged here against your will. "Is everything okay? What's happened? My dad-"

"Is fine," you cut him off, recognising his rising panic. "Everything's okay at home. I just thought it was about time I came to see you for once." You give him a nonchalant wave of your hand and a shrug, although your stomach feels full of stones as you take in the new scar across his cheek.

"But… you wouldn't even fly with me!" He sputters out, as though that's the most important point.

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Your dad made me realise I needed to be here," you confess, "We heard about what happened. Your dad was worried about you and how…" you were coping after being tortured.

You don't finish the sentence, swallowing hard.

"I was worried about you." You drop your eyes, instead gazing down at his scuffed boots, still feeling ashamed you hadn't been here sooner.

The pilot sighs, "I'd have come to you if you'd just answered my calls. I just thought you didn't want to see me, and then things here got… a bit crazy."

"I know, but the way we left things. I didn't know…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I tried to come, I really did. I couldn't and… I couldn't tell you…I panicked and everything that happened, and what we said, and what I did, and I wanted to be here for you when you were… but I couldn't. I tried but i couldn't do it, and then -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Poe shushes you, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him tightly, while you try to ramble out an explanation, an apology, and confession all in one, the words tumbling together, desperate to escape.

"Shhh stop," he repeats softly, squeezing you against his chest.

It's more than just a friendly hug, it's more than just a greeting. He holds you tighter than he ever has, one hand curled into the back of your shirt while the other grips his helmet, his face buried in your neck, as though he could hide from the world. Your heart aches for him and everything he's been through as you hold him.

You wait for him to ask you questions, to call you out on how you acted, even to tease you for the whole situation.

Instead, "I'm so proud of you," is all he says.

You bite your lip hard to hold back a flow of tears, gripping his flight suit as he squeezes you breathless.

"I can't believe I wasn't your first," he huffs suddenly against your skin.

"What?" You squeak, heat flushing over your skin at the sudden change in conversation.

"Pilot! I wanted to take you on your first flight," He sighs, pulling away to pout at you in the most adorable of ways. It makes you want to laugh at the look of actual disappointment on his face. You hadn't realised it had meant so much to him, then you remember that he had seen you as a challenge and can't help but wonder if it's purely that someone else won, where he lost. You can tease him about it later and find out.

For now you'll sooth his jealousy just a little.

"Does it help if I tell you your dad had to basically restrain me. I cried, had I don't know how many panic attacks, shut my eyes the whole way, and I absolutely never want to do it again?"

Poe considers this for a minute before he grins, "Kinda does… but not the crying or panic bit. Or the fact you don't want to do it again" he clarifies quickly, before you have a chance to tease him about enjoying your misery. "We can work on changing that last part. And I'm still sad you didn't trust me to take you first."

"Well maybe if you didn't fly that barely legal piece of junk X-Wing I'd have-"

He suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting off any further insults you could throw at his ship, and while his kiss takes you by surprise, it's not unwelcome, and you immediately find yourself sinking into it.

The kiss tastes of desperation, of impatience, of longing buried for too long.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sweat damp curls in the way you've wanted to for so long.

His helmet thumps noisily to the ground when he drops it to wrap both his arms around you this time, pulling your body hard against his. He slides one hand up your back to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as he kisses you passionately.

This time it isn't his comms that interrupt you, but the hollering cheer of his squadron.

You pull apart suddenly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Poe gives you an abashed smile, throwing a rude hand gesture to his still cheering comrades, mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry, I just decided it might be better to skip the talking part this time, since it didn't really work out so well last time."

You can't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling dizzyingly elated at the lingering feel of his lips on yours.

"No, it did not."

Poe grins, drawing you close once more, "now what were you saying about my beautiful custom X-Wing that you are absolutely going to be flying one day?"

You roll your eyes. Flyboys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please consider hitting the reblog button and letting me know your thoughts!!

Remember reblogs and interactions keep writers writing.

Special thanks to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron

334 notes · View notes