#he definitely stretches like a cat in the morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

11K notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 8 months

Note

AAAAA I HAVE AN IDEA OKAY can u pls do ghost with a veterinarian reader? Bonus points if she’s also a dog trainer that trained task force 141’s K-9 unit for them so all of the dogs love her and she gets scary dog privileges

thank you for requesting anon! loved researching the role of a veterinarian in the forces :) hope you enjoy reading!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Simon is the definition of providing "scary dog privileges" and he's happy to be dating the Army's veterinarian who has a soft spot for him and dogs.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!vet/dog trainer!Reader

warnings: swearing, mention of wounds/violence

a/n: omg did you know in pharmacy school we actually learn how to prepare and counsel pet owners! in one of my classes, i learned how to compound a cough syrup for a cat and an analgesic fur cream for a dog :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Your pleasant dreams were rudely interrupted by the obnoxious blare of your alarm. Rubbing your tired eyes, you groggily turned over. Despite your boyfriend being on a regimented schedule, you could never relate. “God you need to teach me your ways, Simon,” you said into your pillow, almost as if he was in the room. But as you got out of bed, you faced the disappointment that he was still on deployment. As you dressed for the day and fastened your hair into a bun, you tried to go over your agenda. The morning was filled with vet clinic planning and clinical meetings. You cringed at the thought. It was honestly the worst part of your day. After lunch, you had two patients to follow up with after some shrapnel wounds gained on the field. Just two German Shepherds who were always well obedient for you. You knew they’d be getting some treats today. Finally, your day ended with a combat fitness test. You had perfected this over the years and knew the handlers and canines were up to the challenge.

The morning had gone by slowly. You sipped your coffee as you exchanged ideas with the supply department and pharmacy. They were preparing for a month-long deployment and along with human patients, the pharmacy took care of the working dogs. After three hours of revising, you finally had a full plan and med list. You could feel your phone buzz but as you saw the examination room with a returning patient file on the door, you decided to look at it later. You took your time to examine the dog's coat and checked on the progress of her stitches. “She’s healing perfectly, private,” you smiled at her handler as you gave the canine a treat. She nodded before leading the dog out of the room. Just as you were about to check your phone, you ran into your other patient for the day. Hopefully it isn't something important, you thought to yourself as you gave a similar examination. With the final few sentences, you finished your charting for the day. You sighed contently but soon groaned at the gentle sound of your watch beeping. You closed your office door before running off to your final assignment for the day.

“Alright we’re done with combat PT for the week,” you commanded as your regiment of soldiers and canines relaxed. After two hours of running through the course and showing the basics of taking down an enemy, you felt like they were satisfactory for the time. This was one of your better commands and the dogs had performed beautifully. They would be ready in a matter of weeks, right on schedule. “Be sure to give your companions a treat before you return them home,” you said and the group dispersed. You stretched your tired limbs as you saw them walk back to base. “Just another day in the Veterinary Corps,” you sighed. You loved your job but you realized after a few years that it was more of a balance between training the working animals and their handlers along with the clinical side. You were in the middle of a 15-week-long session to prepare the dogs for the field and the handlers were giving you a headache.

You shielded your eyes from the fluorescent light as you entered the base. “Long day, Captain?” one of your techs asked and you nodded. “Only eight more weeks until I get my evenings back,” you smiled as you walked over to the office space. “I got a question for you,” he continued, smiling at you. “A few of us are going off base and–“ Before he could finish, he stopped in the middle of his sentence. His gaze turned down the hallway as you heard heavy footsteps approach. “Lieutenant Riley,” he said officially and you turned to see Simon approaching. You smiled at him as you heard your tech quickly wish you a goodnight. “You’d think he saw a ghost,” you joked as he walked up to you. Despite his balaclava, his eyes crinkled with a smile. He shrugged and you avoided the urge to reach up and kiss his cheek. “You don’t answer your phone,” he observed and you remembered the text from earlier. “Sorry, long day,” you said sheepishly and he nodded as if you provided a satisfactory response.

“Didn’t realize you were back so soon,” you said and returned his smile. “Me either,” he replied, “found out this morning.” That must have been him this morning. You muttered an apology and he waved a hand passively. “Anyways, I got a surprise for you,” he said, a hint of cheer in his voice. You raised an eyebrow curiously. “You? You have a surprise for me?” you said in disbelief, “Must be a special day.” Simon shook his head at your antics, letting out a chuckle. He motioned for you to follow him and you walked in step. You made casual conversation about your current group in training and the good visits from some of your patients. “You still give them treats after?” he asked, shooting a glance at you. “Still do,” you said cheerfully “not much has changed in 3 months, Simon.” “You spoil them,” he joked back, rubbing a hand along his sore jaw. Must’ve been one hell of a mission, you thought. You continued chatting until you heard the familiar padding of footprints on the base floor.

“Is that who I think it is?” you said excitedly and soon your favorite partner came running towards you. The handler, also a close friend, tried to wrangle him but Riley slipped out of his grasp. In a flash of tan and black fur, Riley rubbed his head against your leg. “Riles! You’ve gotten so big,” you cooed as you brushed through his coat. Despite being named Riley out of his litter, you loved the almost human-like nickname. You petted him affectionately, bending down to greet your longtime friend. “Heel, Riley,” Ghost commanded and Riley sat down obediently. “Oh stop it, Lieutenant,” you responded, hitting Simon’s thigh and encouraging Riley to come back into your embrace. As you showered Riley in love and belly rubs, you heard Simon tell the handler that he would make sure you returned Riley at the end of the night. The private nodded and continued to his own quarters.

“You have enough puppy time?” Simon joked and you shot a look at him. “It’s never enough with Riles over here,” you said happily, continuing to pet him. “Riley did a great job on the field, Price was impressed,” he complimented and you couldn’t help but beam at his words. “Well Price should know I train the best of the best,” you remarked as you looked back down at the wagging dog, “and he is one of the best.” After another fifteen of you playing around and Simon getting in some pets of his own, it was time to bring Riley to the kennel. He looked tired but happy as you walked through the base. You held the unlatched leash in your hand as Riley obediently walked in between you and Simon. “Always such a good boy,” you hummed as both you and Simon brushed his fur.

When you reached the kennel, you quietly opened Riley’s cage to not wake the other animals. He turned around a few times, trying to find the most comfortable position. “If you come by tomorrow, Laswell is considering bringing Riley and Apollo on our next mission,” Simon offered, putting a hand on your shoulder as Riley laid down to rest. You waved to her before you checked all of the dogs were returned and happy. “I’d like that,” you smiled into his touch as you walked out, “Do you know how long you’ll be gone this time?” “Probably 6 weeks max if we get the job done,” he said gruffly, averting his eyes from you. Even after years of familiarity, Simon always hesitated to talk about the job. You nodded and closed the kennel for the evening. It was quiet as you walked back to your quarters.

“I won’t be leaving for another week,” he spoke up, voice echoing in the empty hallway. You turned to him with a smirk on your face. “Oh really?” you questioned, putting a hand on his cheek. His eyes flashed around but you laughed as it was late and the coast was most certainly clear. “I would enjoy some company, would you?” you flirted. Simon grunted but you were prepared to draw this out of him. “Hmm, what was that Lieutenant Riley?” you teased before he coughed out a sheepish “yes.” You teasingly beckoned him to follow you. He let out a dry laugh before following at your heels, just like a loyal companion.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing

1K notes · View notes

sleepingelvhen · 2 months

Text

Ah, the men with their fluffy hair and their multi step routines.

Because Jing Yuan definitely takes very good care of that fluffy mane, and I bet it's so damn soft and silky. Jing Yuan and his sleepy self, overwhelmed by work, relaxing in a shower or bath at the end of the day, happy to maintain his hair because he finds it more relaxing than taxing.

Jing Yuan, who smells like Sandalwood and Yuzu and whose skin is so soft to the touch from the lotion he wears. Self care isn't a chore for him. It's a reward after a long day of boring paperwork or training. Spa days are every day and are just as enjoyable to him as a game of star chess.

Imagine how mornings are with him. How he avoids getting up early at all costs, pressing his face into your neck, and pretending that he's still deep asleep. He might even do a soft, fake, snore if you try to shake him awake. Because he's not getting up. He never gets enough sleep, and you're so warm. He could just fall right back into the nice dream he was having.

Jing Yuan and his love for playing board games with you. He's not just amazing at star chess. He loves other strategic games. Don't expect him to go easy on you, though. How else are you gonna learn how to beat him?

Imagine how easily he could distract you while playing. He's staring at you, eyes half lidded, and a little lazy smile on his lips. He's watching you make decisions - watching you think - and he finds it so attractive. His smile will stretch into a grin when you notice him staring, feeling triumphant when you blush.

Jing Yuan and how, when he has to go work, he will kiss you gently on the forehead, fingers gentle in your hair while he promises he'll be back later. Every time he dozed off at work, he's thinking of how he'd much rather be cuddled up next to you.

Imagine how happy he would be when his lion, Mimi, ends up adoring you. The large feline brushes up against you, licks your face, and even lays down on your lap, nearly suffocating you. Aeons, he'd be so happy, knowing that his love and his cat love each other too.

Jing Yuan would love to read to you rather than complain about how boring his day was. When he's home, he's trying to forget about his duties and relax. So then comes the nightly spa, with the long baths and showers, the lotions and massages, and him reading a book out loud to you by candlelight.

You're probably the first to fall asleep, surprisingly. As consistently tired as he is, Jing Yuan finds sleep eludes him many nights. Maybe it's the stress keeping him up, or his consistent worries that he prefers not to speak of, but he's still awake when you've passed out. Your head in his lap, his hand idly scratching your head or back while he just looks at you.

How lucky he is to have someone stay his side. How wonderful that you have not disappeared.

#reader insert #fanfic #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #reader imagine #hsr imagines #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #fluff #hsr fluff #jing yuan fluff #sfw fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #reader insert fanfiction

549 notes · View notes

thebearer · 2 months

Note

anchovy crawling into bed is his morning routine with you but i can imagine his surprise when carmen stays home one random morning and anchovy keeps swatting his cheek for carmen to move

comes in for his morning snuggles, to lay on carmen's side of the bed because it's warm and the light kinda pokes through the curtains on his pillow. comes strutting in and is like ???? wtf ???? why is he here??? when he sees carmen.

definitely tries walking on him, then turns to swatting.

"babe, stop it." carmen mutters, rubbing his cheek, eyes still closed. you're still asleep, snoring, drooling into your pillow. it takes three more times until carmen realizes it's anchovy and not you.

"what do you want from me, hm? what's the matter with you?" carmen frowns, groggy and annoyed.

anchovy just swats again, a mix of a hiss and a yowl for him to move. carmen huffs, scooting over anyways so the cat can sprawl beside you.

"you can share her, y'know? she's mine too. was mine before you, chovy." carmen mutters watching anchovy nuzzle his head into your back, paws stretching out in front of him.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #anchovy berzatto

443 notes · View notes

obxsprincess · 2 months

Text

imagining mattheo and bratty, girly kitty reader because she deserves a tiara

🎀₊˚ʚ ᗢ🐈‍⬛₊˚✧ ﾟ.

your the slytherin princess, all prissy meow, no claw. every single one of the slytherin boys would do really anything for you really, your dark whiskery lashes, and sweet purry voice — they always make sure your safe n sound. though they’ll always do the same for pansy, your bestfriend, they treated you like overbearing older brothers, cus your all of theirs little sweet spot. which is all nice n all until mattheo recruits all of his “brothers” (they five jokingly call eachother) to watch you like eagles if he leaves to get you one of those fruity drinks you love sipping on, dumbly unaware mattheos been giving you sheryl temples the whole party. they all just pray you keep your mean little complaints to your boyfriend, who technically told them to watch you — even they are scared of your bratty ferocious switch. (which even just convinced youve been drinking can trigger, frighteningly)

but whilst all of them protect you, its mattheos whos name you would wear on a pink collar. instead you settled with a fluttery eye roll, for the shiny gold necklace with his full name printed on the little shiny heart! — always sitting between your pushed up breasts. the curly haired brunette does keep the collar as a mental note though. future reference — and also to make you happy. he really does hate admitting but your too cute to say no too — trying not to make it too obvious its because he loves you. which you definitely does, admits it every single time you give him that candy rotting tail-swinging smile.

your his fake eyelashed kitty, and he throws it in every guys face wherever you two go — whether its grabbing your waist arrogantly while you walk ditsily down the halls, cheekily unaware of all the thirsty stares stuck on your plushy hips. or you wiggling in your seat, pussy all sticky, pouting because the throbbings so much its practically purring — doing it just so your all over him, whining and mewling, in front of whoever he pleases. he loves showing you off, but mattheo definitely could do without your bullshit excuse of fashion — or merely the lack of. cus you were not shy showing off your body. you loved making things prettier ! the ‘stylized’ slytherin skirt proudly showing half your heart shaped ass, you just loved the freedom it gave you to pounce around. most of the time, mattheo had to block the view of your frilly underwear flashing when you bend down, all oblivious to the nice pantied cunt eye full he gets. “m’flexible see matty!” huffing with a frustrated breath, “yea yea, guess so kitty — y’stay stretched like that for a good few minutes… s’good for your back or something like that” he unashamedly always takes a peak n your usually to obvious to even notice, too busy giving him your triumphant scrunch.

it’s a complete understantment to say you bounce on him like a cat to a mouse — so teary eyed and cotton panties soaked if you get a glimpse of his biceps or even just his raspy morning voice has something pretty achy n purring, your ghost whiskers twitching. (his back is always covered in your pink french nailed claw marks </3) he fucking hates but does with your whiny fits. trying to satisy his need to taste you between your sqeezing thighs and all you do is moan for his cock. only after cumming three times on mattheos greedy muscle do you shut up — not like he’ll ever complain, he’d never stop fucking into your pretty soppy heat if he had the choice. now when your being too needy, or bugging him as if he can bend you over right there in class, he has no problem sending you off what a swat to the ass n a growl to meet him on his bed, he deals with your neediness. n your always eager to oblige — all fours n pussy up. how else does he take out his anger but in you, on you?

being the girly princess you are I feel like you’d be a cheerleader too! mattheo the star seeker and you his excitedly cheering (kitty) bimbo — hes only ok with your cute tail like swinging ass showing when your squealing his name for the whole school to hear. telling you your his lucky charm, sparkly eyeshadow forever messy when he pulls you into the locker room with him. “you know it’s real hard being a seeker when I cant take my eyes off you, damn look at you baby girl — I’ve already found everything I ever need princess,” mattheos no doubt a slut for cheesy romance before rearranging your guts.

mattheos also your personal purse. except with a lot less frilly pink designs — and you also don’t wanna jump and ride a normal purse into complete bliss. but still! his hands are always full, either with your glossy lipgloss to reapply every five minutes to your puffy lips, pink coverups/sweaters that you toss of abruptly cus they get too hot, or in his perverted needs, offering to hold ‘his girls’ with a mischievous smirk — cus if only takes a little convincing to your pretty head to have you compliant to his shameless, pussy whipped, self, and sometimes they do hurt real bad. mattheos such a good boyfriend ! leaning you back mewling so he can take care them off your hands.

overall you can tell him off whenever needs be. (only you, n you only can tell the son of voldemort to knock it off n not get hurt dcbgyhyf) mattheo even sometimes tries to be extra teasing, which is mean in your glaring lashed kitty eyes — ogling when you bare your verbal fangs n hiss he gets instantly hard at the sight. mattheo still arrogantly remembers the time you beat of an overly flirty raven claw girl, his sweetheart, cat clawing a overstepping bitch — he had to stop himself from cumming right then and there. coyly letting you to kitty lick it right off <3 mattys just as much yours as your his.

. 🎀₊˚ʚ ᗢ🐈‍⬛₊˚✧ ﾟ.

#kitty!reader #mattheo riddle prompt #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle x you #matteo riddle x reader #matteo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #matteo riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin boy prompt #mattheo riddle x y/n

412 notes · View notes

moonsgemini · 9 months

Text

dress - ii

summary: rafe is finally able to show his girl just how much she means to him.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smutty smut, oral (f+m), p in v, smidge of dirty talk, praise kink, rafe, teasing, creampie (hate that), choking (nothing crazy), fluff, fem reader

wc: 3.7k

an: this can be read as a stand alone tbh, also this is my first time writing smut in a while so if it sucks girl I apologize lol I was really losing it towards the end but I pulled through. I TRIED MY BEST PLS

part one

The sunlight seeping through the sheer curtains had gently woken Rafe up. He had been dreaming about her and he wished he could go back to sleep. When he rolled over with his eyes still closed he realized there was someone next to him. He opened his eyes with furrowed brows, his confusion fading once he saw her messy hair sprawled against the pillows. The events of the night before coming back to him.

He smiled to himself feeling content. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. In her sleep she lightly groaned and pushed up against him. Subconsciously trying to get closer. Rafe could get used to this. The smell of her shampoo filling his senses, the warmth of the sun coming through her window. He didn’t even want to sleep anymore he wanted to be awake to enjoy this moment.

What if she woke up and remembered who he was or his reputation and decided she never wanted to see him again. Maybe the kiss last night was a tipsy mistake.

The girl in his arms began to stir awake breaking him from his thoughts. She hummed as she turned to lie on her back, stretching like a cat before turning to face him. Rafe could have died a happy man then and there as he looked at her sleepy eyes and the lazy smile that formed on her lips when she saw him.

“Morning,” she mumbled, almost shy.

He smiled, “Morning.”

He reached forward and brushed her hair out of her face, he wanted to see all of her. A comfortable silence fell over them as they both just observed each other. She couldn’t believe she had this greek god in her bed. Her friends were going to kill her but she didn’t care.

“So what’s for breakfast?” She asked innocently, hinting that she didn’t want the day with him to end yet.

Rafe pretended to think, “hmmm I can think of few things that sound good,” he smirked.

“Oh yeah like what?” She definitely didn’t get his innuendo.

He moved quickly to hover over her, he used his knee to nudge her legs open so he could rest between them. His arms on either side of her head supporting himself up. The closeness made her face get hot. She was suddenly aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he only had boxers on. She was in some tiny shorts and a tank top. She was grateful she didn’t wake up with a boob hanging out.

“I believe I owe you an act of appreciation,” He smirked and placed a soft kiss against her cheek. She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, he was going to be the death of her.

“What does that have to do with breakfast?” She asked in a breathy whisper. She felt like if she talked too loud she would ruin the moment.

He placed a kiss on her other cheek, her forehead, and then her chin, “Well I see a very sweet meal in front of me. I’ve been dying to get a taste,” he placed on last kiss on her neck. This one lasting a little longer.

Her eyes fluttered closed savoring the contact, “You’re so cheesy,” She laughed softly.

“You turn me into a romantic,” He smiled genuinely and she reciprocated it.

Rafe leaned down to finally place a kiss on her lips. It was just as good as the night before, the kiss feeling like electricity. He sighed like he was finally breathing fresh air. The kiss started out soft and gentle but quickly turned into something more passionate. Like he wanted to make up for all the time they haven’t been doing this. Her hands found purchase in his hair. Tugging at the short strands when his tongue began poking into her mouth.

She had been dying to know what he tasted like and after finding out last night that he was even better than she imagined, she was addicted. She didn’t even care if she had morning breath because it didn’t seem like Rafe cared. One of his hands moved down to her waist. Rubbing up and down, his thumb catching onto her tank top and tugging it slightly. Her skin felt like it was on fire as he touched her. She moved one of her legs to wrap around his hips to tug him closer to her. Rafe hummed in satisfaction.

His hand moving to her hips and legs, touching as much skin as he could. He’d been dreaming of this for so long he wanted to savor it. Take advantage of having her here and feel as much of her as he could. He moved his lips back down to her neck needed to catch his breath.

She let out a small moan as he kissed that spot below her ear. It was like he knew exactly what to do. His kisses started moving lower. He sat up on bis knees and placed his hands on either side of her shirt. Looking at her to ask for permission, he didn’t want to mess this up. He wanted to be perfect for her. She nodded her head quickly, wanting to be naked already.

Rafe tugged her shirt off and lost his breath. He could have cum then and there. She was better than his dreams. She started getting timid as he kept staring at her. She’s slept with people before but it was never like this, no one ever actually looked at her.

He leaned forward and pressed teasing kisses on her stomach working his way up her torso. He cupped her breast in his large hand, his thumb moving back and forth over her nipple gently. He kissed in between her breasts before moving his mouth to the one that wasn’t getting attention. He kissed around it before he wrapped his lips around her nipple, his tongue moving back and forth languidly. He’d switch from licking to gently sucking. She was in heaven, feeling an immense amount of pleasure over something so simple.

“Fuck,” She muttered softly. Arching her back on the mattress to somehow get closer to him.

“You’re amazing,” He muttered as his mouth traveled back up her body. Reaching her lips once again he kissed her with meaning.

Rafe’s hand moved down to her shorts. His fingers skimmed over the top of them, fingers slipping teasingly under the band. He moved to sit back on his knees, he looked at her and groaned at the sight. Her pretty lips were swollen and her chest was moving up and down at a faster pace. Her hair messy around her. He wished he could take a picture but he knows he’ll never forget how she looks in this moment.

He began to rub her thighs before grabbing her shins and pushing her legs up so her knees were bent. He looked at her core seeing how the fabric pulled tightly against her heat. He could tell she wasn’t wearing underwear and he just couldn’t believe he was getting to have his way with her.

She had been struggling below him. Wanting him to do anything, she felt her pussy ache as he just watched her with a dazed expression. She could feel how wet she was already, she had began clenching around nothing. Just the thought of Rafe was enough to turn her on.

She sighed weakly speaking up, “Rafe please do something.”

He looked up at her and smirked, “Patience baby. Good girls are patient.” He rubbed his hands all around the expanse of her thighs. When he’d rub her inner thighs he’d purposely rub his fingers against her clit pretending it was an accident. His hands felt like heaven on her, she was so turned on any contact from him was sending her over the edge.

After what felt like hours he splayed his hand across her groin and his thumb hovered over her center. He teasingly rubbed light circles over the fabric. He could see a small wet patch in the middle of her shorts. It was feeding his ego to know she was this attracted to him. He felt like he didn’t deserve her, she was a goddess in his eyes. Everything about her was so perfect to him, even the way her body reacted to him was perfect.

“Fuck I can’t believe it’s taken us this long,” He pressed his thumb down harder making slow circles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long baby. Have wanted to make you feel good for so long,” His words and the movement of his hands caused jolts of pleasure to go through her body. She felt like she was on cloud nine.

“Oh Rafe I’ve needed you for so long,” She sighed opening her eyes to find him already looking at her. He had been watching her reactions enjoying how good he was making her feel.

She let out a small wine when he pulled his hand away but then he swiftly moved one of her legs to the other side and pulled off her shorts. He put her leg back to where it was so he was in between them again. He positioned her back to how she was with her feet flat on the bed. He licked his lips, saliva pooling in his mouth as he gaped at her glistening pussy. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Baby you’re so gorgeous,” He mumbled as he moved lower on the bed to lay on his stomach. His face now level with her hips. He kissed the inside of her thighs beginning from the top of the knee to where her legs met her groin. He did this on each side wanting to savor her.

She felt like she was being worshipped with the way he kissed her and touched her. Like he thought she was better than him and needed to be indulged and savored. Rafe used two fingers to run through his slit, his fingers getting coated in her arousal as he rubbed between her folds. The squelching sound turning him on even more if it was possible. Rafe felt drunk off of her.

He almost missed the pretty sounds that were leaving her mouth because he was so concentrated on the area that needed him most. She moaned and whined at the feeling of his fingers running over her. Her hands were gripping his hair. He pulled away and wrapped each of his hands around each of her thighs to spread her even wider.

Rafe leaned his head against her inner thigh as he went back to rub her clit in that way that made her eyes roll back. He would do that then move his fingers down to run through her folds to gather her wetness. He teasingly pushed the tips of his fingers into her. She let out a louder moan at this. He couldn’t wait to be inside of her. But he also wanted to tease her for as long as possible.

“You like that?” He asked not looking up at her too concentrated on rubbing circles on her clit. His other hand, that wrapped around the leg he was leaning on, reached up to cup her breast. The feeling of his fingers tweaking her nipple lightly was sending her closer to the edge.

“You’re so wet for me, you’re such a good girl.” He said turning to kiss her thigh lightly. He moved his fingers down her slippy folds teasingly until he got to her entrance again.

“Always wanna be good for you Rafe,” She whined trying to lift hips up to his fingers. If he would just put them inside of her already she’d come in two seconds.

He smiled as he slowly pushed two fingers into her, “You are good my love, the best.” He murmured as he watched some of her arousal drip down his fingers as he pushed farther in.

She was tight and warm, his dick aching in his boxers to be inside of her. But he could wait. He moved his fingers in and out slowly. His fingers curving up getting that spot that made her back arch and moans fall unabashedly from her lips. She could never reach it herself and no other partner had tried. But Rafe’s long fingers were perfect, he knew her body already.

He started to pick up the pace as her moans got louder. He could feel her walls squeezing him and that wet sounds of his movements never stopping. He lifted his head from his position and leaned forward wrapping his lips around her clit. He continued with his fingers as well.

She moaned loudly, “Oh shit I’m about to cum babe.” Her eyes were closed not being able to keep them open because of the pleasure. That fire in her stomach suddenly exploded and a tingling feeling over took her whole body. Her back arched off the bed, her legs squeezing around Rafe’s head as he relentlessly sucked and licked.

He started to slow down once she had come down from her high. He slowly removed his fingers but continued to clean her with his mouth. Not wanting to miss a single drop. After he lifted himself up to be on top of her again.

“Open,” Rafe said as he hovered over her.

Eager to obey she opened her mouth and he placed the two fingers that were inside of her on her tongue. She closed her mouth and moaned at the taste of herself on his fingers. She closed her eyes and sucked on his fingers licking him clean.

“Good girl,” He leaned down and kissed her. Her hips lifted up as she felt the tip of his dick in his boxers rub against her core. She needed him but she also wanted to make him feel good.

She pulled away and pushed his chest, “Lay down please,” she said softly knowing she would get her way with how she was looking at him. With big innocent eyes, ones he couldn’t say no to. He got off of her and laid next to her. She followed him and got on top.

y/n sat directly on his dick. His hard length pressed against her dripping core. She moaned closing her eyes leaning her head back. The feeling of him against her core was sending her over the edge. Any touch from him was making her feel like she was on fire. She leaned down to kiss him. Her hips slowing moving to grind against him, the friction causing a satisfied moan to break their kiss.

“I need to be inside of you,” Rafe said roughly, his hands gripping her hips. He pressed her down harder against him wanting more.

She kissed his chin then pressed a few kisses across his neck. Rafe closed his eyes and savored her gentleness. She continued to kiss down his chest as she moved lower. Her hands following as well as they felt the expanse of his muscular chest and torso.

She tugged at his boxers, “But I want to take care of you first,” She had a mischievous look in her eye. One that made Rafe swallow roughly.

“oh sweet girl,” He sighed, “You’re too good to me. Gonna wrap your pretty mouth around my cock?” He reached down and cupped her her face. His thumb stroking back and forth before it started tugging on her bottom lip. Y/n leaned forward with an open mouth taking and sucking on his thumb. Her tongue swirled back and forth and Rafe could have came just with that.

He knows he won’t last long if he lets her go down on him but he can’t find any words to say. Especially not when her ass is in the air as she hovers over him. Her big eyes staring up at him eager to please, how was he supposed to not let her do this?

She took his silence as a good sign and continued tugging his boxers off. His length came out slapping against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, she had never wanted to please someone so badly.

She licked a stripe on the underside of his cock. Rafe let out a sigh, it felt like torture in the best way. She spit in her hand before wrapping it around him, her hand moving up and down as she got it wet. She leaned forward and took the tip into her mouth, teasing him by sucking and licking softly.

His hips moved up trying to get her to take more of him. She was killing him, he had never felt this good. She took more of him and her mouth. Threw her teasing out the window and bobbed her head up and down taking him in her mouth. Rafe groaned at the feeling of her wet warm mouth. His hands reached down to wrap around her hair and hold a makeshift pony tail. Rafe felt immediately close once he saw her swollen lips around him with drool dripping down her chin. Her eyes watering from taking him deep.

He pushed her away abruptly trying to catch his breath, “I’m literally going to cum if you don’t stop that, and I have a lot I still want to do to you.” He smirked standing up on knees and going behind her.

Rafe pushed her gently forward. Y/n went up the bed and bent over. Her ass in the air with her core on full display for him. He could see that she was still wet as her folds glistened, his ego inflated at the thought of her getting wet from giving him head. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around her clit. He sucked gently before licked a few stripes across all of her.

He pulled away and slapped her ass. She moaned softly at the feeling shaking her hips and pushing herself towards him. Rafe grabbed his length and gave himself a few pumps before lining himself up with her entrance. He pushed forward slowing getting inside of her. They both moaned at the different feelings of pleasure. He was stretching her so good she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back.

He rubbed his hands all over her ass as he continued to push inside of her at a slow pace, “You’re so tight baby. So wet too fuck,” Now fully inside of her he leaned his head back at the feeling, “I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.”

He began to move his hips back and forth slowly, “Rafey you feel so good inside,” She moaned. He began to pick up the pace wanting her to be louder for him. He was hitting every spot she needed.

The room was being filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin slapping. Rafe had been waiting for so long for this and it was even better than he imagined. He couldn’t wait to give her what she deserves outside of the bedroom. He wanted to buy her everything she needed, would even get her a new house if she asked. He couldn’t wait to please her in every way.

Reaching forward he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. The new angle he was fucking her at felt incredible. She leaned her head back laying on his shoulder, he brought his hand around her placing it over her neck.

Rafe was in heaven, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world by being able to have her like this. His other hand reached down her stomach until his fingers were over her clit. He gathered some of her arousal and began moving his fingers in circles. An unbelievable amount of please ran through her body. She started to feel that familiar knot in her stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“Rafe I’m g-gonna cum,” She was able to mumble out through moans. Her mind was a mess and her vision was hazy. All she could think about and focus on was Rafe. Her body fell forward so her lower half was back on the bed.

“Cum for me baby,” He said gruffly into her ear doing his best not to cum yet. She let out a loud moan telling him she was cumming. Her face was buried into the mattress muffling her cries. He felt her walls tighten around him and he groaned, leaning his head back at the feeling. He slowed his pace as she finished.

Rafe fully pulled out and gently moved her to lay on her back. He wasted no more time and pushed into her once again. She let out a gasp at the feeling of him. Rafe began to thrust in and out of her. The wet sounds from her arousal getting him even closer. Rafe groaned at the sight of her, he leaned forward and captured her lips in his.

Their tongues danced against each other. Her hands running through his hair and scratching at his back when he’d hit that particular spot inside her. She arched her back, their faces still close together. She really liked Rafe and she really hoped this would be a one time thing.

“Ah shit where do you want me to cum?” He asked as he felt himself close to finishing.

“Inside, fuck I’m gonna cum,” She whined as she felt her whole body go tingly. Her whole body on fire. She couldn’t lie that if her head wasn’t so dizzy she’d say somewhere else but she needed him in every way. And she was on birth control.

“Fuck,” Rafe’s pace picked up as he came inside of her. After finishing he slowed down, breathing heavily. He pulled out gently and laid next to her.

y/n turned to lay her head on his chest. His heart was pounding, hearing it made a small smirk appear on her lips. They didn’t speak for a couple of minutes just enjoying the silence and being close to each other.

“I really like you if I haven’t made that clear enough,” Rafe said breaking the silence.

She laughed, “I really like you Rafe. I have for a while.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to do something,“ He ran his fingers through her hair.

She turned to look up at him, “We’re together now.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, “Will you let me take you out somewhere nice tonight?”

“Yes of course,” She kissed one more time barely being able to because she couldn’t stop smiling.

tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @kw13cheer @weareatthebadlands (if I missed you I apologize!!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine

1K notes · View notes

thefreakandthehair · 1 year

Text

The thing about drinking at 31 years old is that it's different from drinking at 18 years old– or 21 years old, or even 25 years old. Each shot, each drink, is one sip away from a terrible night’s sleep and an equally terrible morning.

Eddie Munson’s figured this out. Steve Harrington though? Steve Harrington has not.

That’s how Eddie finds himself corralling his husband onto the couch after stumbling into the house, the front door slamming loud enough to jolt their cat out of her otherwise peaceful slumber. She glares for a moment before stretching her paws and curling back into a neat little ball.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve repeats, an immediate tell that he’s definitely not making it any further than the couch anyways. “I’m good, I’m fine, this– this is a nice couch.” He punctuates his thought by slapping the cushion and laughing.

Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Yep, it sure is. You picked it out, remember?”

Steve gasps and laughs some more, falling back into the corner of the sectional. “I don’t but it’s comfy so if I did, I did a good fucking job.”

He watches with fond comfortability as Steve squirms around on the couch and lays back, arms over his head and dopey laugh still on his lips. It takes a lot of willpower and frankly, respect, not to climb on top of this giggly, flushed, disheveled man he loves so goddamn much and kiss him until he’s flushed for other reasons, but he digs deep and focuses on doing the next best thing: taking care of him. Eddie’s a little worse for the wear in his own right but a sliver of his iron constitution remains from his wild youth and he hangs on by a thread.

Eddie gets Steve situated into a comfortable position, his back against one side of the cushions and his head propped up on a few pillows to make sure he doesn’t end up with his face smushed into the corner somehow.

“I’m good, I’m fine– hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve slurs and Eddie looks up from his position at the end of the couch, his fingers moving quickly as he unties Steve’s sneakers.

“Taking your shoes off? You can’t sleep in your jeans, Stevie. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Steve hums from somewhere high in his throat but doesn’t say anything else Eddie moves to unhook his belt.

“Stop–stop it, hey, I’m married!” Steve smacks Eddie’s hand and Eddie barely suppresses a cackle. “You’re hot and all but I’m married and my husband’s hotter than you anyways.”

With that, Eddie can’t stop himself. Warmth spreads through his chest as he laughs, from his heart all the way down to the tingling in his toes. Even drunk, even with his eyes closed, Steve would still choose him without a thought and sure, after all these years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise but it does. Because Steve is Steve, and Eddie is Eddie, and Eddie still hasn’t figured out what huge karmic debt he must’ve paid for them to have become SteveAndEddie.

He stares at Steve who’s nearly asleep but feebly muttering words like “hot,” and “perfect,” and “lucky.”

“Hey, hey, Stevie, open your eyes for a second?” Eddie brushes the hair back from his forehead, gently shifting it away from his bloodshot, glossy eyes. He’s beautiful, even like this, what the fuck?

“Oh,” Steve’s eyebrow unfurrow and the right side of his mouth turns up into a small grin. “It’s you. Hi, Ed.”

“Hi, Steve.” Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Gonna get your jeans off so you can sleep, okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, that’s– thanks.”

Eddie coaxes them off, tossing them onto a chair where they’ll remain until the next morning, and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table for when Steve inevitably wakes up with cottonmouth. One more soft kiss and an even softer blanket later, Steve is out and Eddie tip toes up the stairs to bed.

The next morning, Eddie wakes to see Steve next to him. At some point, he must’ve woken up and gotten himself to bed which gives Eddie the opportunity to stare uninterrupted in the silence of their bedroom. It stands in stark contrast to the boisterous night before– the loud music and jumping bodies and Chrissy popping a bottle of champagne in celebration of Robin saying yes, as if there’d ever been a doubt.

Steve’s on his back, the sun just starting to intrude on their tranquility. He takes in Steve’s features, the same ones he’s memorized time and time again but that never fail to stun him just the same. The moles, the freckles, the scars that make him ache and feel thankful simultaneously. The strong line of his jaw, the eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps, that one tendril of hair that insists on curling until Steve forces it into place. Eddie’s seen a lot of the world now, having traveled a bit with his band, and there’s nothing that compares to the man sleeping next to him.

Even if he’s snoring.

When Steve does eventually wake up, trudging downstairs with one eye open and asking why Long Island Iced Tea’s even exist, Eddie’s ready with the necessities– a black iced coffee, two sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches delivered to their doorstep, and a Gatorade for himself.

“You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Steve smiles through the pounding headache as he sips his coffee and tears into the sandwich.

“Eh, I try,” Eddie grins with a mouthful of egg and leans over to bump their shoulders together.

Comfortable quiet drapes over them like the blanket from last night still over the back of the couch, and like the jeans hanging off the recliner– little reminders of the night before and of the domesticity of the life they’ve built together.

Once Steve finishes his sandwich, their cat, Florence, hops up on the table and starts batting at the rolled up wrappers.

“Think she wants to play,” Steve grumbles, sliding off the couch and laying on the carpet. “Listen, Florence, you know I love you but kid, I cannot play right now. I’m barely alive.”

Eddie doubles over and nearly spits Gatorade all over the coffee table. Even their terrible, hungover, washed up mornings aren't all that bad.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stfic #very small buckingham reference #myblurbs #alcohol tw #this is is not at all a nearly 1:1 blurb based on me and my fiance last night and this morning #(he's steve)

2K notes · View notes

reaveries · 1 year

Text

▬ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n: I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again.

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze.

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door.

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help.

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee.

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes.

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.”

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus.

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind.

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

1K notes · View notes

v3lvieraven · 3 months

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐱 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌－ 𝖨 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 <𝟥 (I’ll do part two if anyone wants)

Scenario- alchemy class went wrong when deuce summoned a cauldron and it landed on your leg.

Warnings- Blood, shattered leg, relationship established in Riddles and Leona’s, cursing, Grim being a asshole.

𝖱𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌

He has been busy a great portion of the day, The Queens rules and schedule absolutely must be followed!Which means he had no idea that you were in the infirmary because of a foolish cauldron summoning.

The only way he found out, was when Duece was absolutely begging Trey not to tell Riddle. He is lucky Cater wasnt there, because he would have definitely recorded this whole encounter for funsies.Riddle was on his way to his Afternoon tea time when he heard Duece’s pleads.He was carrying one of the teacup,s from the set you had gifted him, when it suddenly fell out of his hands when he hears you got hurt, shattering it （just like your leg－)His face contorted into one of anger and worry as he steps into both of their lines of sight.

“What happened?“ his voice boomed,Duece could only tremble under his gaze.Finally he stammered out his silly explanation.

“Off with your head!“ The familiar heart collar appeared on the first years neck.

“Ill take it off once [reader,s] leg is healed“ he didnt leave any room for debate before storming off to his tea party.As soon as it was finished, he rushed off to the infirmary.

His harsh expression softens when he see’s your injured state. He brings his hand up to cup your face as he sits beside you.

“My Rose… would you care to come back to my dorm?” He knew you were not allowed to spend the night in his dorm… but perhaps just this once he could forget that rule for tonight…

But don’t tease him for it. If you do he will absolutely never do this for you again.. empty threat

“My Rose, you may stay with me tonight… Only if you wish of course!… Of course I know it’s against the rules… but… I’ll indulge myself for tonight..”

𝖫𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋

His head was already spinning from all of ruggie’s incessant whining,meaning his mood was already sour.his tail thwacks against the tile as he remains in his outstretched body. On top of that, he had not seen you all day,he continues to try and sleep his day away like usual but something is stopping him,he really needs your presence at the moment.

He carefully gets up,his arms stretch like a cats （not surprising at all)while his tail continues to thwack around.

“what a bother“ he mutters quietly before setting his focus on finding you.

You have been limping around all day due to a small accident this morning. When Leona finally finds you, you look as if your about to collapse…mainly because you literally were about to.

He glared at Grim,usually Grim wouldnt care thay much, but he stopped anyways.

“Oi, herbivore.what happened to your leg?“ he can clearly see the cast, and he does not look hsppu about it.

“oh uh, duece summoned a cauldron again“ you explain simply, about to move to catch Grim once more, but you are stopped by Leona hoisting you over his shoulder, he mumbles out annoyed lines of “weak herbivore“ and “dumbass“ Grim was about to follow but with a snap of Leona’s fingers, Ruggie is escorting dragging him back to ramshackle.

Usually in these scenario’s when he would bring you to his dorm, he would throw yoy on the bed before pouncing on top of you with your body weight trapped beneath him. this time was different though, hr gently sets you down onto the bed, you feel the bed dip down next to you as he wraps himself around you carefully.

“what would you do without me“ he said mockingly

But deep down you knew he was worried, his pride obviously not allowing him to say such things out loud.Soon after you fall asleeo, he talks to crowley, convincing manipulating Him into allowing you some days off.Totally not becayse this was an excuse to coddle you and take care of you.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐇𝐞𝐲- 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬! 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲.“

Ace trappola

He was definitely right next to you when it happened. I mean he’s always with you and deuce so was it really a surprise??

He shrieked when deuce for the third time today, summoned a cauldron. This time though, it smashed your leg, Ace could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he see’s the blood splatter onto the floor with your sobs. He doesn’t even think to use his magic to push the cauldron off (which would probably hurt way less) but instead he uses all of his strength to push it off of you. With the way he’s screaming it made it seem as if he’s the one with the hurt leg.

“Deuce what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Obviously he was furious, deuce just summoned a cauldron on his crushes leg!! He picks you up and runs off to his dorm… instead of the infirmary for some reason.. it’s not his fault ig he’s just panicking.

He finds towels to put under your leg so that your blood doesn’t stain his bed sheets.. priorities right

After he obviously bandaged it, and then he realized he should have probably took you to a nurse or something.. but he wasn’t about to run around campus so instead he asked if one could be sent to his dorm.

Once the nurse PROPERLY assessed the injury and patched it up so that it could actually heal… he was all over you. He definitely just laid on top of you, pressing small kisses to your face as he mumbles under his breath, cursing deuce.

“Mwah, see? All better!” He kissed the leg because kisses make everything better right!? Just gives him more of an excuse to be all over you honestly, he’s loving it.

“That idiot really doesn’t know how to do anything but summon cauldrons does he!?… oh yeah your probably right… maybe I should have given you to a nurse or something… HEY IT WASNT MY FAULT I WAS PANICKING!!”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #ace trappola #twisted wonderland fluff

348 notes · View notes

animehideout · 3 months

Text

Love Is The Most Twisted Curse Of Them All

Part 6

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Check out Part 7 here 🆕

CHECK OUT PART 5 HERE.

a/n: Hii everyone I'm back with another chapter, since you requested longer chapters so ofc I had yo give you what you want babies💗 I really hope you enjoy it , your feedback is highly appreciated ✨💗.

wc: 2.8k+

Song recommendation to listen to while reading to set you in the mood you know: DOJA CAT - CANDY 💕

Your eye lids fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the sun light that pierced through the window. Your neck hurting from sleeping in a sitting position, you don’t even remember how you managed to doze off. You got off your bed, stretching, massaging the back of your neck, a warm bath would definitely fix it before starting your day at Jujutsu High.

“Ugh shit- that bitch” you sighed in annoyance, remembering that Satoru spent the night here.

You unlocked your door, heading to the bathroom, hoping that he has already left to school.

You tiptoed outside, grabbing your towel. Your eyes widened when you found Satoru standing right in front of you, shirtless. A towel wrapped around his bottom part, his wet hair falling on his face and droplets of water found their way on his chest.

You hated him to the Saturn and back, but you can’t deny that he looked extremely hot. If he was nice a bit, maybe this marriage could have worked out, maybe you could have become a real husband and wife. But no, he chose to be a dick. And you chose to be enemies.

“What are you looking at?” he started, raising his brow.

You rolled your eyes, completely ignoring his question. It was too early in the morning to start an argument with him. So you muttered a small “get out of my face” and walked past him to use the bathroom.

That morning was intense to say the less. Even though you didn’t sit at the same table for breakfast or even bother to look at each other, but being under the same roof felt completely wrong and made you ick.

You quickly ate your breakfast and left to Jujutsu High, leaving Gojo at home. You had a morning class with the 2nd year, and honestly you didn’t care if Gojo was going to school or not, all what you were thinking about was Nanami. You were excited to see him again, and maybe get to chat again. Since that day, he gave you a reason to be happy about teaching in Jujutsu high unlike Gojo who made it living hell for you.

Busy in your deep thoughts a voice called your name “Y/N”

you quickly turned around, a smile found its way on your lips,

“Oh Nanami! Good morning” you greeted him,

your eyes glued on his perfect figure as he approached you so elegantly. His surprise appearance made you entire morning already, not even Gojo can ruin it.

“Are you going to Jujutsu High?” he asked

“Yes! I have a morning session, and you?”

“yea, same! I hope that it’s okay that I joined your morning stroll”

“OF COURSE” you said rather excitedly then paused clearing your throat realizing how hyper you were. “yeah s-sure” you added trying to sound calm and composed, you weren’t good at social interactions.

It was a new feeling that made you float. For someone like you who was locked inside for your entire life, this small simple social interaction ; literally just walking with a friend and having an actual conversation was special to you, even though it was considered a routine for others. The way you were trying hiding to excitement, made Nanami smile to himself, it was rare for someone to get him to genuinely smile.

“By the way! Sorry if I caused a problem between you and your husband yesterday I-”

“Huh? What prob?”

“Gojo seemed unhappy yesterday because-”

“Oh no don’t worry about it! We’re in an arranged marriage so there are no feelings involved” you explained,

at the beginning of your marriage you didn’t want to say such thing but now remembering that Gojo spilt everything about your marriage to Mei Mei and Utahime, so why not do the same and spill it to Nanami?

“Oh I apologize, I didn’t know-”

“No that’s okay! We’ll divorce eventually so-” you chuckled awkwardly “Anyways, enough of him, tell me about your Jujutsu technique! We didn’t get the chance to talk that much yesterday”

“Oh yeah right! So basically-” he started explaining and talking not only about his technique but also sharing stories about his former job…a salaryman.

You walked inside the school, giggling and all. Your smile immediately dropped when you saw your husband Satoru there.

“How the fuck? I left him home?” you thought to yourself, full of surprises isn’t he?

He was leaning against the main door frame, crossing his arm infront of his chest, despite wearing his sun-glasses, by his body language you can tell he was glaring at you both.

“Enjoyed your time wifey?” he started

“Yeah! I did actually” you answered offensively.

Sensing the electricity in the air, so to not cause further stress for you, Nanami decided to just head inside and give you time with Gojo. Even though it was arranged, Satoru is still your husband and Nanami respected that.

“See you later Y/n” he smiled and walked past Gojo.

“Hah! Good morning to you too Nananmin” but of course he got ignored,

Nananmi has nor time or patience to get into childish argument with Gojo.

You sighed, getting inside as well but he got into your way, blocking the door with his huge figure.

“Huh? What now?” you asked

“I hope you’re ready for tomorrow”

“for what?”

“haha did you forget about our duel? Or you’re acting stupid on purpose as if you forgot so you can avoid fighting me?”

“Oh Crap! Its Saturday tomorrow” you thought to yourself.

You definitely weren’t ready for that, but to protect your pride and dignity you have to do it.

“I don’t run away from battles, Storu! Put that in mind” you slapped his arm away and got yourself inside.

Time skip to the night:

Another night, locking yourself inside the room. Your mind keeping you awake, you took your fight with Satoru too personal and too seriously. Only a few hours left till the break of dawn, the clock ticked closer to your duel with him. And you couldn’t help but feel your stomach twisting, your inner organs sinking deep within you.

“What if I get beaten up and everyone is watching?” you muttered,

thinking of effective ways and tricks to defeat the most powerful sorcerer. If someone else knew, they’d make fun of you for even considering that you stood a chance against him. Anxiety kicked in, the room narrowed around you, making it hard to breathe, prompting you to take your ass out to get some fresh air. Maybe you’ll spend the rest of the night in the balcony, maybe the cold night air refreshes you, maybe the shining stars comfort you.

As you walked outside, you could hear some noises that quickly faded into the darkness, your brows forrowed, clenching your fists. Was it an intruder? You stood in place, trying to figure out where did the noise come from and it led you to the main bedroom, that it was next door.

Curiosity took over you, slowly turning the door knob, met with a sleeping Gojo. His eyes were shut but he his body was restless, tossing and turning on the bed, battling against the haunting visions that disturbed his sleep. You got closer to him for a better look, beads of sweat traced down his forehead, whimpering and panting

“is he having a wet dream?” you whispered,

but nah scared expressions etched on his face.

“oh is he having a bad dream?” you said in confusion.

“N-no –no.. I don’t w-wanna kill…..him” he muttered, scrambled words that didn’t make much sense left his mouth.

“What should I do!” you thought to yourself.

You remember having chronic nightmares, but there was no one to comfort you, so you understood well the fear and the feeling of being trapped there but no one to wake you up. But why would you consider helping him, is he deserving of that?

But you’re too good to be true, too good for him and for the world.

You gently reached out to wake him, but was met with an abrupt startle. His defensive instincts awoke, his eyes shot open.

Misinterpreting your presence with the confusion of his nightmare, thinking you were one of his enemies, he flipped you and pinned you on the bed. His hands gripping yours tightly that it started to really hurt. The bedroom that was once filled with his uneasiness is now filled with a stunned silence, realizing that it was you. His eyes gazed at yours, you could get lost in his ocean eyes. You can hear his heavy breathing, his chest rising on falling on top of yours

“Y-you? What the hell are- you- doing here?” he asked still panting, his eyes narrowing.

“I- I was trying to wake you up from your nightmare” you answered. “you seemed really disturbed an-”

your intentions were genuine but his pride and his unexpected vulnerability had already ignited a fierce reaction within him. Anger flickered in his eyes, as he pulled you out of his bed, dragging you towards the door.

“I don’t need your help” he snapped “Get the fuck out of my room, now!” he commanded.

No way he would allow you to catch him when he’s vulnerable, not you, not anyone. You walked to the balcony, cursing at him under your breath,

“This son of a bitch, I should have left your night terrors eat you up”.

But it took you by surprise as well that Gojo Satoru can be vulnerable and weak at some points, you shook your head, he’s a human after all.

Time skip to the morning:

“Imagine if she kicks your ass” said principal Yaga

“Nah I’d win” said Gojo with a smirk.

“Good luck Gojo I’m pretty sure you’ll win… you know she’s just a normal person not special like you” said Mei Mei with a flirtarious smile.

In the charged atmosphere, you stood there facing your husband, Satrou.

“I hope you don’t mind me showing off a bit Y/n” he smirked,

as he started attacking you first, determined and convinced to finish you off in a matter of seconds. But he didn’t know that you’d give him a hard time. You easily dodged his punches, that instead flew into the air like lightening inches away from your face. At first you were more focused on dodging and avoiding his attacks, and then strike him with unexpected hits.

“Fight back damn it! Don’t just dodge me” he said through gritted teeth pissed that he didn’t land a single blow on you yet.

“You don’t get to tell me how to do my thing Satoru”

The battle escalated, with everyone focused on you. It became intense, each one of you trying to get the upper hand.

“Come on Y/n” muttered Nanami worry and concern visible in his eyes, he wanted to interfere, so desperately but he couldn’t.

And it’s your time now to attack. Sensing a split-second vulnerability, you seized the opportunity with a quick move that caught him off guard. You closed the distance between you two and unleashed a powerful punch that landed on his jaw. A punch fueled by anger but most importantly, by determination and years of solo training.

That strike left him momentarily stunned, pain surged through his jaw. His hand instinctively moved there to alleviate the pain. Never in a million years, Gojo or even everyone watching expected to see him get punched. Their mouths were hung open in utter surprise.

Finally someone managed to do it, and this someone was you, his lovely wife.

Frustration fueled his anger.

“You little bitch”

His arrogance and ego wouldn’t let what you did slip easily even if it means crossing lines. So he had to break that one rule, driven by revenge, he unleashed his Jujutsu technique. Using his privilege as a sorcerer. By the look on his face you knew you were fucked.

With a blow fueled with Jujutsu energy he sent you flying. Falling on your back. In a split second, he was on top of you, pinning you down, completely overpowering you. He held you in place, maintaining a strong unbreakable eye contact. A trickle of blood escaped from your nose.

“I see your smirk disappeared now, no longer cocky Y/N hm? Haha what? What are you gonna do now with me laying on top of you just like that night! Are you gonna gaze into my eyes and I gaze into yours?”

“You fucking c-cheated! It’s supposed to be a hand to hand combat you dick”

“Well I’m special, I’m Gojo Satoru, I d-” but he didn’t get to finish his words,

you summoned a burst of strength and took the chance with a kick directed at his private area. He groaned in pain, pulling away. Your strikes didn’t end there, you shifted your focus and kicked his face now. Finally, breaking free from him.

He looked at you in disbelief, wiping the blood that dripped from his nose. “we’re even now Satoru! Next time if you wanna beat me then try to hit harder”

Your students and school staff erupted into applauses and cheers. It felt great to win your very first combat that happened to be against the strongest man. Maybe now he’ll learn to respect you and treat you with decency and not like as if you were a weak human. You proved yourself today to you first, to Gojo and to everyone; being a normal person with no Jujutsu doesn’t mean you’re weak.

“Y/n-sensei that was awesome!!” said Yuji with a wide smile.

“Thank you Yuji-kun” you smiled trying to catch your breath, limping towards them.

“but you’re nose! It’s still bleeding , should I call Shoko sensei?”

“No no I’m fine no ne-”

“Let me help you Y/n!” offered Nanami and of course you can’t refuse.

“I see he’s treating your wife right! Watch out he might steal her away from you” teased Mei Mei

“As if I care!” he rolled his eyes and then left to join principal Yaga leaving Mei Mei standing alone.

You walked together to the school common room, sat on the couch waiting for Nanami to treat your wounds. From the intensity of the battle with Gojo to the gentleness with Nanami.

He kneeled on one knee in front of you, carefully tended to your bleeding nose. His touch was delicate and tender. You tried to maintain composed but his touch tugged at the corners of your lips, hinting a smile that you couldn’t fully suppress. You felt your cheeks heating up, trying to not look too obvious after scanning his face so you looked away.

“And we’re done!”

“Oh um- thank you Nanami” you said fidgeting with your fingers.

“You did great by the way!” You smiled warmly, still learning how to react to a compliment, muttering a little thanks.

“Alright! Take care I have something to deal with”

........

“Your wife is full of surprises Satoru!” Said Principal Yaga.

“I’ve always been a nice guy Sensei, so I went easy on her” he answered using a wet napkin to wipe the blood.

“Doesn’t seem like it! Don’t hide it Satoru, we’re both surprised and confused I know what’s on your mind right now”

He took a deep breath, “You always figure things out, don’t you sensei? Yeah I guess you’re right I’m confused”

“Succeeding in laying a nasty punch on you while your infinity is activated is something intriguing”

“I can’t swallow it Sensei! There must be a mistake!”

“No! I think that’s why the higher ups said that once her curse breaks and becomes a sorcerer she’ll flip the balances in the Jujutsu world…Satoru can’t you see? Y/n is something else!! Could she be-”

“GOJO SATORU!” yelled Nanami, interrupting their conversation. Approaching them, furiousness and anger etched on his face, veins popping up on his neck.

He grabbed Gojo by the collar and yelled,

“HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO YOUR WIFE?”

“you knew her only for two days so chill, don’t act like you care!”

“yes I CARE! I care when I see a bastard like you tries to humiliate others! Its your wife goddamn it”

With that Gojo pushed Nanami away, and said,

“What’s between me and her is none of your business, so stay out of the frame Nanami! She’s my wife not yours”

“Lucky for her you’ll divorce soon! Can’t wait for the day when she breaks free from your arranged marriage”

“d-did she tell you that?” questioned Gojo, his eyes widened.

“Guys, guys Ugh cut this shit!!” yelled principal Yaga who was busy talking on the phone.

“I was on the phone with one of the higher ups! They called for an urgent meeting..I’ll gather the others, classes are dismissed for today"

“An urgent meeting for what?” asked Nanami and Gojo at the same time.

“It’s Toji Zenin! He’s on the loose now!” said principal Yaga with a hint on concern in his tone.

Tag List 💗

@smolbeanzzz @eolivy @khaleesihavilliard @tqd4455 @black-swan-blog27 @certainduckanchor @haitanibros0007 @goldenjoyboyy @lorako123 @kunikuzushisbeloved @saiyara05

@sanriosatoru

@kiki17483

@numblytemporary @soulofendlessbook

@bookswillfindyouaway @sukunasleftkneecap

@ryumurin

@shervinss

@twitabread @f1uveryysblog

@sleepyyammy @olivianyx

@caycaysblogg

@butterskyy @animechick555

@allofffmypeaches

@inlovewithlondonn @wisepotato404

@tw0fvced @markleeisdabestdrug @thejujvtsupost @thoughfullovercreator @sm3156

@ioriorigamii

@myloveforharrystylesneverenough

351 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 3 months

Text

In Sickness and Health

Rating: General CW: Discussions of Medical Issues, Referenced/Past Seizures Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Older Steddie, Canon Divergent, Steve Harrington has Seizures, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Breakdowns, Hurt/Comfort, Angst & Fluff, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is giving them space when they need it."

💕—————💕

Eddie has learned to revel in quiet afternoons, even when he’s alone. The way the sunshine bathes the apartment’s living room carpet—his and Steve’s apartment. Their cat, Poncho, settled heavy and warm in his lap. A chilled glass of southern iced tea and a plate of crackers and sliced cheese. The television volume on low. Book open and set on the arm of the couch. It’s good, the quiet.

Yet, it breaks the moment the front door opens. He didn’t hear Steve stick his key in the lock. But he definitely hears his annoyed groans and huffs. The slam of the door, most likely shut with his hip. A muffled, “Damnit”, when he drops his keyring on the floor.

He peeks from the edge of the couch, eyes set and attentive at their front door. And Steve is there, wrestling with his puffer jacket, grumbling under his breath, kicking his legs and stepping on the backs of his sneakers—something he never does, he cares too much for those things. But here he is. One t-shirt stuck on a doorknob away from a breakdown.

Though, Eddie doesn’t chastise him for the way his emotions express. No matter how explosive they are. Steve just gets like this some days. Too angry to talk. Too begrudged to take care of his things.

What’s new, however, is Steve’s slightly splotchy, puffy face. Red and pink and white. The tears brimming in his eyes. Ever apparent even behind his glasses. A paper with professional scribbling on it—a doctor’s note. He had an appointment this morning. Made last night after an emergency room trip. A seizure is what put him there. Scared them both, Eddie too eager to make him take an appointment, to call in sick to work. He should’ve gone with, if this is how Steve’s coming home.

He plops Poncho on the couch, letting him stretch skywards and curl back into a little ball. Tea abandoned on the coffee table. And Eddie gently comes around the corner, hands hooked in front of himself, still dressed down in pajamas, eyes wide and expecting at Steve.

“St—“

Steve shakes his head. A hand held out in front of him. Jacket and shoes abandoned by the front door. And he sidesteps Eddie completely, barreling down the hallway, slamming the bedroom door behind him, and locking it.

Eddie lumbers after him, slowly, cautiously. Face to the wood of the door. And through it, what breaks his heart, he can hear Steve’s soft cries. He resigns himself to some time on the couch. Steve always needs his space after breakdowns like these.

Needed it after Max woke up in the hospital, half-blind, limbs mostly healed. Needed it after Eddie came out of surgery, pock-marked and head shaved, half a grimace on his face. Needed it when Robin moved out of state for college. After Dustin and Lucas and Mike and Will and Eleven and Max all graduated high school, when they went their separate ways across the country, when they called once or twice a month. When his dad died, the grief a heavy blanket on his shoulders, his chest lighter, his brain angry at being relieved.

Steve needed his space when Eddie brought home their cat (though he came out merely ten minutes later, an excited smile on his face, name on the tip of his tongue). Nightmares and dissociation episodes. At the grocery store, because he has to stick to a list, knowing that Eddie never does that. The first grey hair, which he then took in stride when Eddie called him a “Beautiful baby silver fox.”

Even after they moved to Massachusetts in 2008 and got married. His emotions were so strong, so palpable, so rapid—he just needed a moment to debrief, take a hot shower, and then cuddle into Eddie’s side on their honeymoon bed.

Point is, Eddie knows when Steve needs his space. Knows that he cherishes that time to himself, to break down in contemplative silence, to let himself digest new information or old information or just get himself restrung.

He wishes that Steve had been taught that it’s okay to breakdown in front of his loved ones. That it’s okay to ask for help and for comfort. But it doesn’t come easy. It makes him guilty. It makes him scattered like a headless chicken.

For the mean time, Eddie sets himself down on the couch, iced tea in his grip, volume turned up slightly on the television. Steve doesn’t like it when people hear him cry. Eddie doesn’t acknowledge it either, for the sake of saving Steve from another impending breakdown. He loves Steve with all his might, he just wishes things were slightly different. He’ll do this, ever reluctant he may be.

——— Around thirty minutes later, an average amount of time for Steve, the bedroom door creaks open. Eddie quickly turns down the TV and gently places his now empty glass on the coffee table.

Small, floating from the hallway, Steve calls out, “Eddie? Can you—“ He sniffles, voice still choked up. “Can you come in here, please?”

The sight that Eddie wanders in on breaks his heart a little further. Steve’s face is still a splotchy mess, his eyes downcast and teary, waterlines pink. His hair, grayer now, is askew. There’s a definite slump to his body, where it rests on the edge of the mattress. Hands intertwined between his legs, fingers locking and pulling one another, socked feet shuffling on the rug. He got out of his day clothes, now back in his pajamas from the night before—sleep shorts, grey t-shirt.

Eddie closes the bedroom door behind him. He scoots over and kneels down on the floor. Hesitantly, he sets his palms on Steve’s knees. He rubs the inner skin, warm and soft, with his thumbs. “Whatcha need from me, baby? Ask me to do anything, I’ll do it.”

Steve sighs, breath shuddering as it leaves him. His exhale ends on a little whimpered hiccup. Instead of answering, he grabs the paper he was holding earlier and passes it over. It’s edges are wrinkled, probably from being handled roughly, maybe even scrunched. And Eddie was right, it’s something from a doctor’s tablet. Signed off with a messy scrawl:

— Instructions for handling seizures. — What to do if a seizure lasts longer than five minutes. — Steps on how to start the process of getting a service animal. — Firm directions telling the patient to not drive. — Prescription for Tegretol CR 200mg

And the diagnosis in thick, blocky, bold black text:

Epilepsy

Eddie sighs through his nose. He swallows thickly and looks back up to Steve’s defeated face. He murmurs, “I should’ve gone with you. I’m sorry, love bug.”

Shrugging, Steve mutters, “Thought I was done with the after effects of the shit back in Hawkins. I’m so—Angry? Disappointed? I don’t know how to feel.”

The paper is set back on the mattress and Eddie pulls Steve into his chest. He rubs a hand down the length of his spine, the other squeezing around his waist. “You’re allowed to feel however you want. And it’s okay to take the time to figure that out, too. This is hard stuff, baby.” He sways them from side to side. Closing his eyes in relief as Steve’s arms wrap around his back. Something that, unfortunately, doesn’t happen enough when he’s in need of comfort. His hands grip tightly to the back of Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie gently turns his head and kisses Steve’s cooling, still ruddy cheek. “We’ll start figuring this out. Like we always do. I’ll be right here for you, alright?”

Steve nods against his shoulder. Muffled into Eddie’s neck, he asks quietly, “Can I have some more space and alone time?” He shifts to slowly release Eddie. “Just for a little while. I promise I’ll hang out. I just needed to tell you, so that it’s not harder later.”

He pries them apart gently. Arms still encasing Steve, he holds soft eye contact. “You take all the time in the world. I won’t be offended, sweetheart.” He kisses Steve’s forehead now. When he sits back on his heels, Eddie brings up a hand and runs it through Steve’s hair, fingernails dully scratching at his scalp. His smile is lopsided, the youngest it’s been since the first confession. It comes easier now, “I love you, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Steve murmurs, barely returning the smile, and yet it’s there. Eddie revels in that, too.

And when Eddie goes to exit the bedroom, door almost shut behind him, Steve calls out his name one more time. Looking back, Steve swamped in their comforter, glasses folded on the bedside table, wrapped up and warm, Eddie tilts his head in careful implore. He hums in question.

“Thank you for understanding,” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for telling me, I know it was hard. If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room, okay? I’ll keep the TV low, but tell me if it’s too loud.” Steve nods, shifting under the blanket further, fully supine on the mattress. He looks more relaxed. He looks a little easier. “Have a good nap, love bug. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 6 #heed the tags #I promise it'll be okay

233 notes · View notes

xuchiya · 1 month

Text

c.san {my sweet frosting}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The aroma of freshly baked cupcakes wafted through the air, a siren song that led you straight to Cafe Love, you were new to the whole city of Seoul— a foreigner— so with this smell as you first took your walk in the morning. And now with the love of the smell and the love for food decorating, you caught yourself a job, not so far from your apartment.

Inside, the staff bustled about, each with a designated role – the barista with a practised flick of the wrist pouring latte art, the cashier rattling off witty greetings, and a girl, hair a mess of sunshine curls, haphazardly placing cupcakes in the glass display case.

That girl, is you, was the embodiment of "charmingly clumsy." You earned that nickname when you accidentally ran your hand on your hair whilst it was dirty with flour, creating highlights of white on your black hair. The baker shakes his head, patting your head as to help you clean your hair and to also congratulate you for getting yourself a job as the food decor.

As you fumbled with a particularly frosted blueberry muffin, a voice, smooth as caramel, startled me, "Excuse me, miss?"

“Yes sir?” Turning, you bumped into the cupcake stand but your eyes immediately settled on the man, tall and handsome with kind eyes hence looking like a cat glaring eyes, pointed to his own cheek, a question in his gaze. Mortified, you mirrored his action yet no clue why you were copying him.

Your fingers, however, seemed determined to paint stripes across your nose instead. Another swipe, another miss. By the third attempt, your cheeks resembled a battlefield of frosting and flour.

Before you could self-destruct entirely by embarrassing yourself by copying the man without knowing you were making a huge mess on your face. A whole canvas of frosting and flour on your cheeks, nose and forehead. The man stepped forward, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a practised ease that hinted at similar clumsiness in his past, he brushed the frosting and flours off your face with his napkin.

And that moment there, time seemed to slow down, everything seemed to blur except for the man in front of you; he is the definition of a ‘chivalry is not dead’. It was just the two of you, the gentle brush of his fingers, the sweet scent of the cafe, and a warmth spreading through me, not just from the embarrassment.

Suddenly, a booming voice jolted us back to reality. "San, my man! People are waiting for their macchiatos!" Your eyes and his attention diverted to Wooyoung, who had a frown look on his face; both you and San’s face turned red.

The man, "San" apparently, chuckled. "Okay okay Woo, I’m just grabbing my muffin." He winked at you, a silent promise of a proper conversation later. "It was, uh, nice meeting you… Miss Frost." Your cheeks burned hotter than a fresh cup of coffee, but a smile stretched across your face. "It was also nice meeting you, San."

He waves goodbye to you, turning to Wooyoung, “See you tomorrow Woo!” You watch him turn a corner, disappearing completely out of your sight. You sigh in content, your hand gripping a soft cloth on your fist. You look down to see a handkerchief with an initial of ‘C.S’ on the edge of the cloth, you immediately think of the S to be the same man, San.

You panic for a bit until you notice a note inside, you pull it out to see a small piece of paper, revealing the letter inside; you read silently.

‘If it wasn’t for the frosting on your cheek, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. Though whether you have frosting or not, I would still dare myself to talk to you.

' I’ll come back here again so you could return this handkerchief and maybe, your name too and also can I also ask for a date to where I can take you?’

The rest of the day passed in a blur of smiles and leap of heart as you continued working whilst thinking of the feline eye gentleman. Your cheeks aching at the thought of the next day and the cloth gleaming silently inside your apron as you finish up your frosting on the cupcakes and muffin displays.

San looked at the paper bag at the corner of his office table with a small lettering on it.

‘Enjoy Mr. Frost.’

He chuckles at your attempt but his heart soars at the thought of leaving you a note and his attempt of asking you out. He looks forward to seeing you again and maybe this time, he will be smudged with your colorful life.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez choi san #ateez san #choi san #san x reader #san x you #san ateez #choi san fluff #choi san imagines #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #san fluff

132 notes · View notes

st-el-la-luna · 5 months

Text

Thinking about @bluegiragi Monster AU

Specifically; Crow Harpy Gaz

He's such a sweet little thing, still as cheeky as ever, not one to back down from a fight.

When he sees you for the first time, his eyes widen imperceptibly. He tilts his head to one side, then the next, blinking curiously.

He realizes you've said something and he lets out a tiny coo in surprise before clearing his throat. He offers you a taloned hand and a smile. "Name's Gaz... Lovely to make your acquaintance."

He's definitely got bird like mannerisms. Bobs up and down when he's excited, bouncing from foot to foot. He always calls out when he sees you, unable to suppress the happy crowing when you walk into the room. Usually, just your name or some term of endearment, occasionally accompanied by a horrid melody of chirps and tweets (crows are not known for their musical ability).

His wings were always his pride and joy, but he takes even better care of them now, even when deployed. One day, when you both were back from leave, you complimented his wings.

"They look so glossy and soft! You've been taking care of them, haven't you, pretty bird?"

And oh how he preens. He practically melts.

Pretty bird. Pretty bird. Pretty bird.

He wants to hear you say it again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He gets the best products he can, enlisting the other members of the Task force (yes, even Ghost) to help him with his wing care. The feathers shine like they never have before.

Whenever you're around, Gaz will stand a little straighter. Puff out his chest. Raise his wings slightly and stretch them out just a bit. Feathers fluffing. You never fail to compliment him and he never fails to preen and to coo.

He starts bringing you things. Not to you, not directly at least. But to your barracks. You're able to figure out who it is easily enough.

"When I laid down to sleep last night I found this big rock on my bed, hurt like hell." You say off handedly one morning in the mess hall.

Ghost chastises you for not checking your surroundings. Soap laughs at you and your misfortune. Price asks if you're okay. Gaz deflates a little.

Ever since, the gifts are left on your night table.

You find small things at first. Stray bottle caps, shiny rocks, an old penny. Then, he becomes a little more bold.

Flowers, and berries and seashells and glass. He only realizes what's happening– that he's courting you– when you approach him with a container of brownies.

"What's this for?" He asks as you set it in his hands.

"You're always getting me things," you say with a smile. "Figured it's time I give you something too."

He tries to deny it. Really, he does. Cheeks burning, feathers puffed out. Tells you he has no idea what you're talking about. But then you set your hand on his and offer him a smile that has him weak in the knees.

"No use in lying to me, pretty bird. I know you too well for that."

He caves and accepts the brownies with a smile.

The gifts increase tenfold. No longer left shyly on your bedside. He seeks you out. Presenting you with the gifts like a cat bringing its owner a mouse. His chest puffed out, shoulders back, wings out. He's showing off.

He loves it.

What he loves even more is the way you coo at him and thank him. Your smile is genuine every time.

He starts bringing you things. Expensive things. Gourmet chocolates. Rings. Small jewels.

One morning, at breakfast, he takes your hand in his and fastens a bracelet around it like this is a normal thing to do.

Soap makes fun of him for it. Gaz doesn't even get the chance to be mad at the werewolf. Not when you press a little kiss to his cheek and thank him so sweetly. You tell him he doesn't need to spend money on you. He tells you he wants to.

One day, after a particularly hard mission, Gaz returns to his bunk and all but collapses in bed. There's a plate of cookies and a handmade bracelet waiting for him on his nightstand. And a little note with your sweet words of encouragement.

Immediately his fatigue is gone.

He's out of his room, hurrying through the hallways. Wings fluttering so much he's lifting a bit off the floor.

He slams your door open without knocking. You're lying in bed, reading. You jump, startled, blinking up at him in surprise.

"Kyle! You scared me!"

He's on you in a heartbeat. Arms and wings wrapping around you like they'll never let you go.

If ever you were unsure about his feelings for you, you weren't now. Now with the way he melts against you, pressing so close, so tight, it's like he wants to become one.

"Can... Can I... Can I please?"

He asks, breathless, eyes on your lips. His mouth falls open slightly and he lets out a stuttering breath as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You nod.

Gaz wastes no time. The kiss starts out sweet, soft and chaste. He peppers these kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your temples, you nose, your chin, your eyelids. Nowhere is safe.

But the kisses soon become demanding. All tongue and teeth. Hot and wet and desperate. Like he needs you like he needs the air he breathes. Like he needs you to live.

"You're mine, right?" He whispers against your lips, voice gentle, eyes pleading. "Only mine?"

"Only yours," you whisper back, a hand stroking the feathers of his wings. "And you're mine... My pretty bird."

Gaz preens as he dives in for another kiss.

Your pretty bird...

Yeah. He decides as he pushes you down onto the bed, tongue licking desperately at yours. Yeah, he can live with that.

Please reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist

#call of duty #cod #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #monster au #harpy gaz #x reader

255 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 2 months

Text

Wreck and Resurrect

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...”

Content: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, sexting, brattamer!Damien, like full on dom!Damien, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, degradation, praise, choking, use of a belt where a belt does NOT need to be used, mild dacryphilia? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi! So this is definitely...porn. I re-read and edited and added and took away so much from this fic that at this point it feels like gibberish to me. But I hope you guys enjoy it!!

You woke up before Damien’s alarm. It went off the same time every morning, and you had started to anticipate it even in your sleep—a Pavlovian response to the consistency.

You liked the routine; the way you woke up to his face every day, the way he wiped the sleep from his eyes before rubbing his chin, silently debating whether or not he wanted to shave. And then he would turn over, check to see whether or not you were awake with him.

“I’m sorry,” he turned off the alarm on his phone and rolled back over to kiss you. “Go back to sleep.”

Today, you pulled him closer, keeping him flush against you and deepening the morning kiss he offered. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I’d be a little concerned if you did.” He smiled against your mouth, letting you embrace him. His skin was warm, heated by a night spent pressed against you under the comforter. “I gotta get up, baby.”

“No.” You tightened your arms around his midriff, and he laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a brat,” his voice, still gravelly and laced with sleep, made the words go straight to your core; it was never too early to want him. “I have a short day. Then I’m all yours.”

“I’m not being a brat.” Your gaze met his, and you frowned. “How short?”

“Just a few hours,” he untangled himself from you, getting out of bed. You watched him stretch, blushing at how the muscles in his back flexed when he rolled his shoulders. “You think you can be good until I’m home?” He smiled, teasing, leaning over you and brushing strands of hair from your face. He tucked it behind your ear, then cupped your face in his hand and let his thumb trace your cheek bone.

You weren’t sure why you felt so needy for him this morning, but you leaned into his touch as soon as his palm made contact with your skin. “I’ll be good.” You grabbed his hand, kissing it, “I promise.”

His smile widened, bending down to kiss you again before turning away to get dressed.

~~~

Hours after Damien had left for work, you found the motivation to get out of bed—motivation that took the form of cats in absolutely dire need of attention—and tried to go about your day. You ran errands, did some work of your own, made a breakfast worthy of the Mythical Kitchen (on a good day); but, Christ almighty, were you bored. There was something missing, and it was making you antsy.

You hadn’t forgotten to do anything—everything on your checklist was in proper order, crossed out and completed. So why did it feel like you were neglecting something?

Damien’s words from earlier that morning echoed through your head.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Ah.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...

You loved that kind of attention. You knew exactly where pushing him in the right places would get you. And if Damien thought you were being a brat, then you’d capitalize off of that.

You picked up your phone and fired off a brief message to him.

💬How’s work?

While you waited for a reply, you stripped down from your daytime clothes, rummaging through his dresser to find suitable attire to enact your plan. Your phone dinged when you found the right shirt, as if on cue.

💬Lots of busy work. How has your day been?

It was like he was serving you the opportunity on a silver platter.

💬Pretty good. I miss you.

You stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall; Damien’s shirt hit the midpoint of your thighs, and you pulled it up ever so slightly to reveal the perfect amount of skin.

You took a picture and hit send.

💬Found your soft shirt that I like! Highlight of my day.

You watched intently as the bubbles of his forming message popped up on screen, then disappeared, then popped up again. You laughed silently.

💬Spencer almost saw that.

You smirked.

💬Ask him if he wants another look.

💬You are in so much fucking trouble.

You took another picture, this time leaning on the bed, legs spread just enough to give the camera a glimpse of the naked space between your thighs.

Send.

💬For what? I’m just showing you how pretty I look in your clothes.

For the second time, you watched him start typing, then stop, then start again.

💬Brat.

You smiled at the message.

~~~

You stayed like that for the next hour; lounging in bed in his shirt and waiting for him to get home. When you heard the lock on the door click, you shot out of bed.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, you expected at least a kiss before the inevitable punishment that awaited you, but all you got was Damien’s cold gaze.

“Knees.”

You tried to wrap your arms around him, a lazy attempt to play dumb as to what it was that had made him so fierce. He let you hang off of him momentarily before pulling you off and gripping your jaw in one hand.

“I said get on your knees.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, princess?” He smiled down at you, but the kindness that was usually there had been replaced by something primal. “Thought you said you’d be good.”

“I was good.” You managed, shifting your weight, trying to give your knees some relief on the hardwood floor.

Damien laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think so?”

“I was good.” You reiterated, fully aware that you were still acting like a brat, but trying to see just how deep a hole you could dig yourself into.

That was half the fun.

“No, you weren’t,” he stated, “Tell me.”

You stared up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. You stayed quiet.

You watched Damien sigh, exhaling for as long as it took him to shuck off his coat and throw it onto an armchair behind him.

“You gonna keep playing like this?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.

He undid his belt, folding it gently and holding it out for you. “Hold it.”

You took it, running your fingers over the leather. He undid his zipper.

“That’s fine. Keep playing.” He ran a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove his cock from the confines of his pants, “But you know what brats get.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. You watched him fist his cock, and admired the way he seemed almost uninterested in his own movements despite the fact that you knew how much he was looking forward to this.

“Spit.” He commanded, and you let a strand of saliva fall on the tip of his cock; your lips parted, waiting for your cue. Damien pumped himself, aided by your spit, and after a moment tapped his cock to your lips. You set the belt down haphazardly on your lap while trying to stabilize yourself by putting a hand on his thigh.

“Did I say to put it down?” He tsked at you. You shook your head. “Use your fucking words. Did I tell you that you could put it down?”

“No.”

“So pick it up.” You did, growing achier by the second at the way you were positioned under him, but too excited to care.

“C’mon,” he refocused your attention, “Open wide.” You did, letting your tongue poke out over your bottom lip, and he pushed into you. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, and when you made eye contact with him, he was smiling. “Didn’t think I was going to be nice after your little performance today, did you?” You tried to shake your head, but he wasn’t impressed. “Words.”

Your muffled response sent vibrations up his spine, and he stroked your hair. “That’s it. Gonna let me fuck your face? Let me use you like a slut since you wanna act like one?” Again, your words were muted around his cock, and Damien growled at the image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him.

He pulled you back by the hair, intent on staying still and watching you put in the work. He let you take a deep breath before he pushed you back down. Tears sprung from your eyes when you choked on him. You squeezed the belt in your hands tighter as he held you down.

“Are you crying, princess?” He cooed, keeping his cock pressed deep down your throat. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby. Didn’t you want attention?” He pulled you off of him and watched intently at the way you gasped for air, drool coating your lips and chin.

“Want—want you to fuck me.” You pleaded, voice hoarse from the strain his cock had put on your throat.

“Yeah?” He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, bending down momentarily and bringing his voice to a low whisper. “I don’t care what you want.” It sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but whine at the words as they left his mouth.

He straightened back up to his full height, and you opened your mouth without being asked this time.

“You wanna be a good girl for me now?” He all but laughed when he saw what you were doing. You nodded, and he let you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before you took it back into your mouth. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” He smiled. “Belt,” he beckoned, and you handed it to him. He removed his hand from your hair, opting instead to keep you against his body with his belt by looping it behind your head and pulling with both hands. This time, he pushed you all the way down onto him. Your nose pressed against him, and you spluttered while he watched on.

“You can do it,” he moaned at the feeling of your mouth around the base of his cock, “Just a little longer baby, you can do it.” He reiterated. “Look at me—hey, look at me, princess. I’m counting down from ten.”

He started his countdown. Your face was wet with tears and spit, and you could feel your thighs growing sticky. You tried to shift your weight again, maybe offer yourself a little friction, a moment to appreciate how genuinely turned on you were by his actions, but the look he shot you as he reached six on the countdown made you stop dead, frozen under his gaze as you attempted to be good for him.

When he got to one, he dropped the belt, and you heard the buckle clang against the floor. He pulled you off of him, hand once again wrapping around your jaw as he leaned down, meeting you half-way to kiss you. It was heated, passionate, and you loved how his tongue flicked into you as if he was trying to taste himself on your lips.

“Knew you could do it.” You keened under his praise, raising your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. He let you stay on him this time, and you thought maybe you had proven yourself to be the good girl you said you were. He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

When he put you down, you immediately started to undress; it didn’t take long, still only wearing his shirt, but once it was off you crawled across the mattress to him. You tugged at his clothes, trying to get him to strip along with you. Damien moved slowly, paying no mind to your whines as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. He stretched out on the bed, and you moved to straddle him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Please, Damien—want you to fuck me.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, hoping that your saccharine display would convince him of the fact that you were ready to be good.

“Didn’t I already tell you that I don’t care what you want?” He whispered, lips mere millimeters away from your ear when he pushed his cheek against your head where it rested against him.

You whimpered against his skin. “But I was good.”

“Show me again,” he beckoned you from your hiding spot, “Show me again how good you can be.”

You whined, pouting. “How?”

“Just stay like that,” he guided you so that you were sitting up, “Make yourself cum like this. Can you do that for me?” His cadence was softer now, and he pushed hair from your face in a parallel to his actions that morning. You leaned into his touch now as you had then, planting your hands on his chest.

“But I want you to fuck me." You pleaded in vain.

“Brats don’t get what they want,” Damien’s tone turned harsh again. He moved his hands up the length of your legs and stopped to grip your waist, “Brats get what they deserve.”

The angle was odd, and you struggled to find a pacing that suited your needs. Damien watched you squirm above him, the faintest smirk on his lips; his hands stayed on your hips but didn’t offer any assistance. He wanted to watch, nothing more.

You bent yourself forward, still supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, and rolled your hips over him. You could feel him under you, hard and warm, and it did nothing to ease the heat in your lower stomach. You continued grinding down onto him, trying to find the delicious friction you sought; the tip of his cock pressed against your clit when you bucked your hips, and you let out a quiet moan.

“There you go,” Damien murmured. He had moved one arm under his head, propping himself up to get a better view. You grabbed at his bicep, squeezing softly, trying to get as much of him as you could. “You gonna make yourself cum for me?”

“Can’t,” you whined, still sweeping your hips over him, now with more fervor, trying to find the position that would give your clit the pressure it needed to let you reach your high. “Please, Damien, let me cum on your cock.”

He tilted his head back, “Isn’t that what I’m letting you do now?”

“Inside.” You were begging.

“No.” He squeezed your hip with the hand still situated there. He seemed to relent slightly, beginning to guide you. “Cum like this.”

You felt like crying; pent up and desperate and not at all able to make yourself feel even half as good as he would be able to. You let him pull you back and forth, the sounds of your slick coating his cock creating an absolutely obscene backing score to your actions. You felt the pressure in your stomach rise when he bucked his hips into you, pulling you forward to let your clit rest directly on him while you moved, directed by his hand.

Your breath hitched, and Damien, clearly getting impatient and fueled by his own want to fuck you, repeated the motion. Something inside you snapped, and you were cumming; your nails left small crescent imprints on his skin, clawing lightly at his arm and chest. You cried out, and he pulled you against him, letting you calm your breathing while you lay on his chest.

“You ready to be good now?” He nosed the crown of your head.

“Mhm,” your sounds were somewhere between confident and moaned. “Gonna be good.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me cum—thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome, princess.” He kissed your forehead, and once he was certain you were ready, he flipped you off of him. He sat up, coaxing you onto your stomach before getting up to kneel behind you. You had never been happier to be on your hands and knees, the promise of what was to come made you dizzy with lust.

He positioned himself low on the mattress, and before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt.

"Oh—" You shivered, bending yourself down further on your hands to give him complete access to you. Damien said nothing, continuing to lick slow circles around your hole. He spit, watching it trail over you and down to your clit where it fell off your skin in drops. You tried to reach back for him, to pull on his hair and encourage him to do more.

But then he was straightening up, situating himself on his knees and sliding his cock through your folds.

“What did we learn today?” His teasing words paired deliciously with the way his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your words were muffled by the pillow you pressed your face against.

“That’s right,” he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering your slick, and you moaned softly. “You going to say sorry?”

You made a noise that sounded halfhearted. He pulled you back by your hair, forcing your back to arch, your face centimeters from his own. You giggled, still mildly hell-bent on seeing just how much trouble you could cause. He swatted at your thigh to get your attention back.

“Try again. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being a brat—I’m so sorry, Damien, I’m sorry for being bad, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” Your words were rushed, eager to please him and get what you had been craving all day.

“Good,” he released your hair from his vice grip and let you reposition yourself properly in front of him. “One more time,” the tip of his cock nudged your entrance, so close to penetrating you but still not enough, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, and you had hardly finished your sentence before he rammed into you; there was no time wasted on getting you used to the way he had you speared, none spent on familiarizing your cunt with the stretch of his cock—he was as desperate as you were, and entirely unforgiving.

“God, fuck. Yeah, take it all like that,” his mouth hung open as he watched your cunt swallow him. You made absolutely pathetic noises, squirming against him, wiggling your hips around the intrusion of his cock.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, hands once again finding purchase on your waist and pulling you against him with every thrust. “Does it turn you on, baby? Does acting like a slut make you wet for me? Letting me fuck your face and use you? Is that what got you wet like this?”

All you could manage was a hoarse cry, a garbled moan of affirmation. You heard him laughing behind you before he cut himself off with a moan, seated deep inside of you. Your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moaned, the drag of his cock against your walls made your eyes roll back into your head.

“I know, baby, I know you’re so sorry,” he whispered, hands combing through your hair lovingly while he ravaged you, “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You smiled, pressing your face further into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Yours, I’m yours—your good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he sped up his thrusts, and you couldn’t help the scream you let out into the pillow. He leaned forward, pulling it from you and throwing it to the side. “Let me hear your pretty sounds, princess—let me hear my good girl’s pretty sounds.”

You were certain that whatever complaint you might receive from the neighbors would be worth it; all you could do was cry out for Damien, telling him how good he felt, how you’d be nothing but obedient from now on, and he punctuated every one of your wails with a sharp snap of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, and he took the opportunity to bask in you; he pushed himself deeper, tip of his cock kissing your cervix while you moaned quiet praises of the feeling.

“Feels so good,” you squeaked, and he bent down to kiss the back of your head. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock like you were begging to?” He whispered, cock pushed as far inside of you as your cunt would allow.

“Yeah—please, yes!” You pushed your ass back against him, daring him to fuck you deeper, and he obliged; you felt drunk off his cock, the way he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust and how at a certain point you could remember nothing but his name and how deeply you loved and trusted him.

Damien reveled in your calls for him, the noises you made sent vibrations through his fingertips from where they rested on your throat.

He wrapped his free arm around your midriff, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles in small bursts that synced with the motion of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut, chanting his name like a prayer—over and over and over again.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispered down at you, and you were an absolute goner by the time the praise hit your ears; you felt your thighs shaking first, followed by the tightening in your stomach that, when it snapped and relaxed, spread pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your moans of his name reached a crescendo and you collapsed under him, sore and tired and satisfied. You continued to murmur helplessly as he thrust into you, and when he came with a growl of your name and a string of curses, you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You sighed happily at nothing in particular.

Damien immediately crowded you on the mattress, sweaty bodies intertwining, his arms wrapped around you in a desirous hug.

“You did so good, baby, you did such a good job for me.” He kissed whatever skin he could reach, peppering your cheek and shoulder with soft kisses. “My good girl, my perfect girl.”

You hummed into him, hand creeping up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I did good?” You asked for further validation, hazy from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he pulled you closer to him. “Do you feel good? Was that too much?”

You shook your head, smiling at the way he checked in on you; his prioritization of your comfort never ceased to make your heart feel full. “Just what I wanted.” You reassured him.

“Me too,” he sighed, tracing shapes on your back. The room went quiet, and your breathing fell in sync with his. “Do you wanna clean up?” He nudged you finally, "I can get you a towel—or, or run the shower?"

“Not yet,” you had closed your eyes, content to rest on him, “Comfy.”

He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and leaning back. “Y'know...I do like that shirt on you.” He mused.

“Yeah?” You perked up, suddenly wide awake again.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I mean—I like everything on you—and off you—but I especially enjoy seeing you in my clothes.”

You laughed quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to act out.”

He grasped your face with both hands, covering your face with kisses and laughing, “Was that the lesson you learned today?”

“Learned not to be bratty,” you laughed at the way his stubble tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your pulse points, “Learned that when I am bratty you still give me what I want.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting go of your face and wrapping his arms around your waist again. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think so,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling your face against his chest, “Y’big softy.”

#damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh smut #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh squad #smoshblr

138 notes · View notes

makeitmingi · 4 months

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 3]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

When you woke up, you saw Wooyoung in your kitchen, standing over the stove. Seonghwa was still asleep in your bed and you assumed Jongho was also passed out in the guest room where he shared a bed with Wooyoung.

"You're up early..." You yawned.

"Hi, love~ Good morning." Wooyoung smiled sweetly. He poured coffee into your mug and slid it over to you, as well as a small bottle of hangover cure.

"Thanks." You took a sip of coffee first before drinking the hangover cure. Then you shuffled over to him.

"What are you making?" You peered over his shoulder.

"Sopa de fideo, our usual hangover cure. I would have made avgolemono (Greek soup with lemon and chicken broth, thickened with eggs) but you're out of lemons." He said.

"Oh, I better remember to get some when I go to the shops again. And I'm always down for sopa." You smiled.

"Better add fideo pasta then. I just used the bag up." Wooyoung informed. You nodded with a hum and went to the fridge. You started to make a mixed fruit juice for Seonghwa, knowing he liked sweets to help him get over a hangover. He also didn't like bitter things and didn't like coffee.

"Hwa might only wake up later. After his drunk nagging and making fun of me, I only managed to get him to sleep at like 6 am." You clicked your tongue.

"He is so funny when he's drunk." Wooyoung snickered.

"If he's so funny, next time, you take him. The both of you were messes, Jongho and I wanted to just leave you both out here."

"Let's do that next time." Jongho spoke, letting out a loud yawn and stretching his arms over his head. He had an arm on his neck as he stretched out the stiff muscles.

"Jong, your hair." You laughed, reaching out to help him tame his messy bedhair.

"Wooyoung hyung kicked me in my ribs. I think I have a bruise." Jongho hissed, glaring at Wooyoung, who turned back to the stove and whistled innocently. You went to pour Jongho a big mug of coffee and get a small bottle of hangover cure.

"Alright, later, let's try to compile a list of produce suppliers we can contact for the restaurant. We'll probably have to use our own equipment until Yunho can get them in." You said.

"Yes. We'll definitely need our stand mixers." Jongho nodded.

"Ugh, those things are so heavy though. It's going to be a nightmare to transport them back and forth." Wooyoung whined.

"And at the same time, we can discuss a menu so we know what equipment we need." You added. When Wooyoung finished cooking, he portioned everything out.

"Pepper mill, please." You asked. Once Jongho finished garnishing his own bowl, he handed it over to you.

"Is Hwa hyung unconscious?" Jongho asked. Wooyoung snorted as he took a bite of food.

"I think so. He's too talkative when he drinks. I might have smothered him with my pillow in my intoxicated state." You shrugged. You said that with such a straight face that others who didn't know you might have thought you were serious. But Jongho and Wooyoung knew you long enough to know you were joking.

"Thanks for cooking, Woo. It was just what I needed." You said, starting to do the dishes. When Jongho was done, he came to help you dry the things and put them away.

"We'll have to wake Hwa soon." You yawned, laying over the couch.

"Ah, let him sleep more." Wooyoung grinned, coming over and laying his body on top of yours, making you grunt.

"Don't squish her, hyung." Jongho said, sitting on the armchair after refilling his coffee tumbler.

"Yah, Choi Jongho. I'm not that heavy." Wooyoung scolded and made no effort to remove himself from you. He even snuggled closer to you, letting out happy sounds.

"I'm so glad we're past the stage of you wanting to claw my eyes out." He giggled.

"Who says we're past the stage?" You mumbled.

"Okay, I'm going to take a warm shower. My brain is fogging." Jongho stood up and went to the room. You poked Wooyoung in his ticklish spots, making him yelp and yell until he got off you. You smiled victoriously and went to your room.

"Hwa!" You jumped onto the lump under the blanket like an evil cat. Seonghwa groaned at the impact, shifting under the blanket. You wriggled your body, squishing him.

"Darling, I'm not going to go deeper into the mattress." Seonghwa murmured, his voice muffled by the blanket.

"Wake up, Hwa. There's things to discuss."

"Well, I can't with you on me, can I?" He chuckled. You didn't even have a chance to get up before the door opened and a very loud Wooyoung barged in.

"Cuddle pile?! Where was my invite?!" He complained as he fell on top of you. You and Seonghwa winced.

"This isn't a cuddle pile! I'm trying to wake Hwa up." You squirmed.

"And not doing a very good job at it." Seonghwa said, reaching out from under the blanket to stroke your head while you shot him an offended look.

"We can just stay here all day." Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in to hug you, burying his face into your back. As you laid between them, Seonghwa shifted slightly so you had space but was still hogging your duvet. He was wrapped in it like a comfortable burrito.

"You should eat something, Hwa. I made you mixed juice in the fridge since you don't drink coffee." You said.

"What's the food? Did you cook?" He asked, voice slurring ever so slightly, an indication that he was falling back asleep very soon.

"I made sopa. Miss (y/n) here needs to go to the shops soon, she didn't even have lemons in the fridge." Wooyoung replied. You reached behind and slapped his hip.

"Hmm..." Seonghwa hummed. His eyes were the only thing you could see peeking over the blanket and they were closed.

"Hwa's so tired." You whispered to Wooyoung. Seeing Seonghwa so tired, you didn't really have it in you to wake him up again, wanting to let him sleep.

"And hungover." Wooyoung added.

"Yet both of you were the ones who didn't want to stop drinking last night." You said softly, turning your head to see Wooyoung just press his lips into a thin line. He clearly didn't remember what happened last night, none of the boys do. Even Jongho.

When you turned around again after a while to see why Wooyoung was so quiet, you realised that he had fallen back asleep too. You carefully slipped out of his grasp.

"Where's everyone?" Jongho asked when he saw you emerge. He had a towel on his head, used to dry his hair.

"Sleeping in my bed." You sighed and sat down beside him.

"Want to go to the shops?" He suggested. That wouldn't be a bad idea. Jongho was objective and didn't get as distracted as Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

"Sure. Just let me go change." You stood up, heading into the room to get some clothes.

Yunho let out a tired sigh as he came out of his father's office. He spent the night drafting a contract between himself and your cooking team. Then the moment it hit morning, he drove to his father's law firm to have him look it over. Mr Jeong made some edits but nothing major before sending his son off.

'Where are you? Want to go get brunch with Yeosang and I? - San'

'I just came out of my father's office after letting him look over the contract I drew up last night... Sure, I'll eat then go home to sleep. Text me the address. - Yunho'

After receiving the location address, Yunho drove over to where San and Yeosang were.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." Yunho said to his friend as he approached their booth. They shook their heads, San sliding in for Yunho to sit.

"How did it go?" Yeosang asked.

"It's fine. My dad made some minor changes but nothing too major. It's just a 1 year contract anyway, which I know how to draft." Yunho shrugged, looking through the menu.

"I meant with the cooking team. Must have went well for you to draft a contract right away." Yeosang laughed.

"Oh! It went well. Hongjoong hyung's friend, Seonghwa sshi, he is like their manager or some sort. But the main chef is this girl, (y/n) sshi. She's really cool, you'll see what I mean when you meet her tomorrow." Yunho grinned.

"Do you already have a crush on her?" San raised an eyebrow.

"No! I don't. She's just cool... I want to be her friend. And the other two guys in the team are cool as well, they're all cool! Seonghwa sshi and Wooyoung sshi are sous chefs. Jongho is a prep chef."

"That's nice, Yunho ah. But can the 4 of them handle the workload or bakery items and dinner service?" San asked.

"Well, that seemed to be their concern too. But I think they worked out a schedule." Yunho shrugged.

"That's why there's a contract?" Yeosang clarified. Yunho nodded.

"Oh yes, I was going to text (y/n) to tell her the contract has been drawn so they can sign it before work tomorrow." Yunho took his phone out to text you with an excited smile.

"Wow, tomorrow is opening." San said in disbelief. After seeing Yunho work so hard for the restaurant, it was finally going to open.

"I know, it feels weird to say that it's opening tomorrow. I can't believe it, really. Time passes so fast with all the construction and sourcing of things to put the restaurant together." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. Just thinking about it made his heart race with anticipation, all the fatigue melted away.

"Let's order. I'm starving, I need my protein." Yeosang said. The both of them were gym rats so their post gym meals were always large. Yunho, Hongjoong and Mingi were always too lazy to go.

After the waiter took their order, they continued their conversation. Yunho glanced at his phone when you replied.

'Thank you for preparing it in such a timely manner, Yunho sshi. What time should my team and I be in tomorrow? - (y/n) sshi'

'You're welcome! 😊 It was no big deal at all, actually. Part of the job. How long will you and the team need to start preparing the pastries for opening? 🤔 - Yunho sshi'

'Depends. We will need to source for ingredients since the fridges and cupboards are empty. - (y/n) sshi'

'Sorry about that 😞 - Yunho sshi'

'I didn't say that for you to apologise to me. It is understandable since you didn't have a kitchen crew until yesterday. If possible, can I drop by later today to bring some equipment and ingredients for storage to be used tomorrow morning? - (y/n) sshi'

'Of course! What time is good? - Yunho sshi'

'Say 4pm? - (y/n) sshi'

'That's perfect! I'll see you then! 😼 - Yunho sshi'

Yunho had been so busy talking to you that he didn't notice Yeosang and San stopping their conversation to stare at him. He had a dopey grin on his face.

"Earth to Yunho?" San waved his hand in front of the taller male's face, making Yunho blink and look up.

"Who are you talking to...?" Yeosang leaned on his hands.

"Oh, (y/n) sshi asked if she can drop off ingredients and equipment off later at the restaurant. So she doesn't have to bring them in with the team at 5am." Yunho informed.

Yunho didn't know why he looked forward to working with you. Maybe because you seemed so wise when it came to food. The last person who awe'd him with food knowledge was his own grandmother, the whole reason why he loves food and eating, and wanted to open his own restaurant.

"Here you go." The waiter came back with their food and drinks, giving out the plates.

"Thank you for the food." The boys chimed and dug in.

"I'll help you behind the coffee counter tomorrow, Yunho. We can barista together." San smiled. Out of the group, Yeosang and Hongjoong were the worst with handling food.

"Mingi's going to try and sneak into the kitchen to steal food." Yeosang chuckled.

"He does love bread and pastries." Yunho rationalised.

After that brunch, Yunho went home to catch up on some much needed sleep. He made sure to set an alarm, he didn't want to be late to meeting you.

Yunho was on time, but when he pulled up into the parking space beside the restaurant, he saw you waiting there, leaning against a van and fiddling with your phone. His eyes widened in panic as he rushed to remove his seat belt and got out.

"Sorry I'm late!" He ran over.

"You're not late. I was early." You raised an eyebrow, standing up and tucking your phone into your pocket. Compared to yesterday, you were dressed a lot more casually, in sweats and a hoodie.

"Are you on your own?" He tilted his head when he noticed there was no one else in the van. You gave a nod and a hum, tugging your hoodie down.

"I'll get a trolley from inside. Hold on." Yunho went into the restaurant and grabbed a trolley.

"Oh wow." He was stunned when you pulled open the van door, revealing all the ingredients and equipment inside.

"We should move the cold stuff in first. It's these." You pointed to the cartons butter, milk, cream and other things that needed to be in the refridgerator immediately.

"Sure." He picked up the cartons and stacked them onto the trolley, wheeling them in.

"Why don't you stock the fridge while I bring the rest in? I'll bring the produce first." Yunho suggested. You nodded and went into the walk in, which was already turned on and cold. You began to stack everything inside, making a mental note to get bins and labels to organise it better.

"(y/n) sshi?" Yunho called you and you stepped out to see that he really brought in all the produce on his own. You were impressed by his energy and strength.

"That's fast." You chuckled. His ears turned red at your words but he maintained his grin.

"What should I do next?" He asked, enthusiasm in his voice. You imagined if he had a tail, he would be wagging it.

"Well, let's organise these first then. Before bringing in the equipment." You told him. He nodded and helped you bring the vegetables in.

"Shall I put these here?" He asked. You gave a nod and he put the vegetables neatly. He hummed softly to himself as he worked.

*RINGGGGGG

"Excuse me." You left Yunho and stepped out to answer the phone. Since you just stood in the kitchen, Yunho could hear bits and pieces of your conversation.

"Hwa, you were sleeping so I went to the shops with Jongho... No, he is not with me now. He had to go to his parents' place... I'm at the restaurant with Yunho. I brought some produce and equipment for tomorrow..." You said.

"Well, I tried to wake you. You went back to sleep... I borrowed a van from my neighbour and brought everything over... Don't worry, I can manage. Yunho did most of the lifting." You sighed.

"Alright... Make the bed before you go, I don't like my sheets in a mess." You hummed and ended the call.

Yunho's eyes widened. Were you and Seonghwa in a relationship? Judging by how caring and protective Seonghwa was of you, he shouldn't be surprised.

"Apologies." You came back and Yunho shook his head, acting like he had been busy.

"That's done. I won't need the meats in the freezer since we are serving them tomorrow." You said.

"So we bring the equipment in?" He asked. You nodded and walked out with Yunho trailing behind you. The equipment wasn't much but you did bring yours and Jongho's stand mixers.

"These are heavy." Yunho grunted as you lifted them from the trolley and onto the counters.

"They need to not move when mixing." You replied. Other than that, you brought in some pots, pans, a sous vide machine, a vaccum sealer and smaller essentials like mixing bowls, cutting boards and other cooking utensils.

"Let me know how much these are. I'll pay you back." Yunho said as he unwrapped the new set of measuring cups while you sorted the cooking utensils.

"It's fine."

"(y/n) sshi, these are for use in here so please, let me pay you back for them." He begged with a small pout.

"Alright." You nodded. Yunho glanced at you as your organised the kitchen in a particular way. He guessed it was the way you and your team worked comfortably.

You didn't try to make conversation with him but you could feel his eyes on you. You just continued arranging what you needed.

"S-So what did you have in mind for the menu tomorrow?" He stuttered.

"For the bakery, looks like it'll be lemon poppy seed madeleines, strawberry basil tartlets and palmiers. For the cakes, we're thinking a cheesecake of some sort, yuzu drizzle loaf and red velvet." You listed out, having brainstormed with Jongho at the market earlier so you could buy ingredients.

"Oh wow. That all sounds so good." Yunho's jaw slackened slightly at your words.

"If there's time, we'll push more stuff out since we want to test to ovens and equipment." You explained.

"Then is there any prep stuff that you need to do now?" Yunho only knew that some dishes needed to be prepared early because his grandmother used to marinate meats and vegetables overnight.

"Are you able to assist with food prep?" You eyed him.

"I have not done it before but I can try!" He grinned excitedly.

"Never said you will be." You stated, going to get your apron. You grabbed a spare apron and handed it to him.

"Actually, I'll help you sanitise and wash the stuff first. I might not be much help." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck when he saw you take your wrap of kitchen tools out, including your knife.

"We haven't even started yet..." You scoffed.

"Yeah but I feel like I might be in your way. When I was granted my food license, the intructor told me he hopes I'm not actually going to put my food license to use... I'm better washing dishes than actually cooking..." He said in embarrassment, his ears turning red. But you noticed the small pout on his face.

"Just try. If you can't, you can't." You turned to the counter space to continue setting up. Yunho smiled softly, grateful for your indirect way of encouragement?

"Okay, so we'll start with a blackberry apple tuile. We can leave it in the dehydrator overnight." You said.

"I'll get the cutting boards washed." Yunho said while you went into the walk in to get the ingredients that you would need.

You laid out the ingredients and used the sink on the other side to wash the fruit that you would be using. When they were done, you stood next to Yunho and started working on the apples.

"Umm..." Yunho didn't move. He didn't know what to do. For a moment, you forgot he was new to this.

"Sorry. Here. Use this." You handed him one of your spare utility knives.

"Hold the knife like this and slice the blackberries in half like this." You demonstrated. Yunho nodded and began doing the task. You watched him for a bit, worried that he might cut himself since he seemed a little wobbly.

"Like this...?" He winced, not that he cut himself. He was worried that he was doing a bad job. But you really can't do a bad job at cutting berries in half.

"That's fine." You prepared lemon water in a bowl. Then you took your pairing knife and began to peel the green apples that would be used.

Series masterlist

160 notes · View notes