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agirlcandream84 · 2 months

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How Frank Would Comfort You After Scaring The Shit Out of You

Summary: Frank was away for days and you hadn't heard from him for the last 72 hrs. You assume the worst.

To me, this is smut.

Word Count: 1,005 (4 min read)

Warnings: Angsty Frank, guns, insomnia

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At this point you were surprised you were still even functioning with your mind so preoccupied with Frank. Yes, you often knew little about his trips and the only bits you could piece together were often the scattering of wounds across his body when he came home but he had always come home. This time was different. You had lost contact with him at least 3 days ago, the last text from his burner phone just a brief "love you." Frank never went silent for 3 days, no matter the trip.

Anxiety ravaged it's way through you, destroying your appetite and rendering you a forgetful, jumpy mess. Sleeping was a laughable pipe dream, tossing all night and jolting awake with a gust of wind. You, of course, began assuming the worst about him, anguish enough, but you'd also convinced yourself that whoever Frank was after was out to get you next. You were Castle's girl afterall, that had to amount to something or some sort of collateral.

By day 5 you were barely functioning at work and on so little sleep you were seeing hallucinations. Nothing grand or absurd, just little movements out of the corner of your eye, like a bug shimmering and fading. Jumpy at every movement. Heart pounding when a man looked your way a little too long. Despite your deep desperate desire for sleep, your mind couldn't shake the feeling of a threat looming.

That evening you had managed to finally fall fitfully asleep at 3am, only after 15mgs of melatonin, some Nyquill, a weighted blanket laying heavily across your shoulders and one of Frank's guns tucked on the bedside table. He had once taught you how to use it, urging "I mean it sweetheart, you gotta learn this," and you had just followed along, chuckling at the absurd idea that there would ever be a time that Frank wasn't there to protect you.

The single quiet click from the front door opening was enough to jolt you upright in bed, your body moving before your mind barely caught up. Your heart is hammering in your chest so hard that your ears can hear nothing but woosh woosh woosh as your hands scramble for the loaded gun. Your eyes find the clock, 3:47am, but your mind can't make sense of the number. Your mind can't make much sense of anything, clouded with sleep aids and adrenaline, except pure panic.

You manage to find your feet on the floor, the shaking in your hands progressing to your whole body and you make it two steps before crashing into the dresser and sinking to the floor. You hear steps approaching, heavy leaden thunks, and hold the gun out in front of you, shaking so badly you couldn't even hit a cruiseliner if you tried. Your eyes are still struggling to adjust to the darkness, handicapped by the Nyquill and debilitating tiredness, one of those damn imaginary bugs skittering in the corner of your eye.

The knob turns slowly, at least it felt slowly, everything seemed to have the sensation of moving in molasses but also at the speed of light, and the door starts to swing open. You hear the sound of a terrified sob before realizing it was your own, as the hulking shape steps into the door frame.

"Pppplease. Please don't, ppplease. God, please don't" you're mumbling, a prayer or a chant.

"Sweetheart?," says the voice into the room. Your eyes squint to make out the features, gun still pointed into the space between you, shaking violently.

"Sweetheart, it's me," it says again, taking another slow step into the room, crouching to your position on the floor.

"ppppllease, please stop," you mumble, begging your brain to catch up.

Frank lifts his hands, palms towards you for a moment to show he's unarmed and says "Sweetheart, I'm gonna take that gun now ok?" He asks it real slow, soft like he'd ask a kid.

You nod your head in agreement but your hands don't move, the gun still aloft and rattling. He reaches forward slow, his eyes locked on yours, as you feel his calloused hands slip around yours, the gun being pulled slowly from your grip and tucked into his pants.

Frank.

Your eyes take him, finding the shape familiar.

Frank.

Your brain catches up and apologies begin tumbling out of your mouth. "S'sorry Frankie. Didn't know it was you. S'sorry. I was so scared," you mumble, your eyes still blown wide in panic and your body still tremoring in fear despite the threat disappearing. The sorrys devolve into heaving sobs almost instantly, wracking their way through you. Choking for air.

"Ssshhh ssshhh sshhh, no honey. Shit sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs as he scoops your form flush to his body, his hand cradling your head as he presses your tear-stained face into his chest. He shushes you as he rocks gently, the sounds muffled by the kisses he's planting on the top of your head.

"Thought you were dead," you choke out, your sobs renewing as you wind your hands into his shirt in fists.

"Things got bad for a minute sweetheart but I'm here. Not gonna leave you," he replies, the quiver in his own voice undeniable. "Hang on to me," he murmurs as he wraps your legs around his waist and stands, his arms pressing you so firmly into his body you nearly lose your breath.

Your body felt like lead in his arms. The moment Frank saw you he knew he'd put you through hell the last five days. The deep purple shadows hugging your eyes. Your form more gaunt than when he left you. The tremors he still felt as he held you to his body.

He sits on the bed and reclines against the headboard, shifting your body to lay across him with your head rested at his shoulder. You don't loosen your grip on his shirt, the adrenaline leaving your whole body tense but your mind so fucking tired.

"Want you to sleep now sweetheart. Can you do that for me?" he rumbles into the top of your head. You shake your head yes, sleep felt like a tidal wave consuming you and everything around you, and murmur, "please stay."

"I'm here. I'm right here," he replies as a lullaby of I'm Sorrys in Frank's arms puts you to sleep.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle fic

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bleubrri · 1 year

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ushijima doesn’t propose to you with a ring.

granted, he has no idea why, considering that the box is sitting in the pocket of his shorts at any and all times. he’d spent months trying to get every detail right; unfaltering in his desire to marry you, but every other decision had been made and remade a hundred times over. he’d stopped counting after the fourth ringband and thinks that the jeweller started to hate him around the seventh ‘final’ decision for the cut of the stone.

he’s never been particularly indecisive, in fact he thinks he’s quite the opposite, and yet he can’t seem to stick to his guns on anything.

he almost proposes before the flight, though as he watches you toss sunscreen and string bikinis into a suitcase he thinks it might add an extra weight to the holiday, like some strange pre-honeymoon. if he asked you in a restaurant ushijima isn’t entirely sure you’d say yes, and every night at dinner he has to choke the question down.

in the garden?

in the city?

it needs to be special, not too public. maybe not in public at all—

“toshi?”

“hm?” he lifts his gaze to find you staring at him from your place next to the bed.

“i said can you throw me my water bottle?” you repeat.

he nods, resigning himself to thinking of a plan later and crossing the room to hand you the bottle. you tuck it into the beach bag that you’re packing and—maybe the beach? perhaps at night, when it’s more secluded and he can recite everything he loves about you without the added pressure of an audience. ushijima gets the sudden irrational fear of dropping the ring in the sand and is reconstructing his whole plan when you take his hand in yours.

“are you okay, love?”

he blinks, squeezing your hand and flashing you a small smile. “of course, why?”

“you’ve just seemed a little.. distracted? distant? i don’t know, i figured you were just stressed.” you tuck your phone into the pocket of your bag and turn to give him your full attention, taking both his hands in yours. “are you sure nothings wrong, toshi? i can try and help if you tell me. i want you to enjoy this holiday too so if there’s anything i can do to—”

“marry me.” he blurts, without a plan and without a ring and with his heart coming up out his throat. the grip of your fingers goes slack for a second, your voice dying and eyes going wide.

“what?” it’s barely a whisper.

ushijima sighs, taking your face in his hands and thumbing over your undereyes while you look up at him through wet lashes.

“i’ve been trying—” he says, a fond smile curling his lips, “—to ask you to marry me.”

you find yourself blinking away tears, nodding frantically as you try and unclog your throat long enough to fucking speak.

“yes.” you breath, “yes of course, of course i’ll—yes.” you’re laughing, tears bubbling at your lashline that he swipes at before they get a chance to fall and tipping your mouth to his—needy, desperate little thing.

somewhere in the flurry of tongue and teeth, you end up being pulled onto the freshly made sheets and straddling his lap. toshi breaks the string of saliva that’s connecting your mouths to stare at you with stars in his half lidded eyes.

you find your palms smoothing down the broad plains of his chest that’s covered by the thin fabric of his t-shirt, resting them over his heart that seems to be thrashing against his ribs.

lips ghosting over his and noses barely brushing, you whisper, “you shouldn’t have asked me now.” and for a brief moment his stomach drops. “now i’m never gonna let you leave this room.” you smile, pecking his lips and slowly grinding into his lap.

large hands are secured on your hips and ushijima decides that he’ll worry about the details later. “maybe,” he chuckles, “that was the plan all along.”

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #ushijima fluff #wakatoshi fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x black reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x black reader #hq smut #ushijima smut #wakatoshi smut #hq x black!reader #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

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Hey hey heyyy!!! Can you pretty please do a headcannon or blurb of the 141 boys and Ko Ko of them telling you they loved you for first time? tysm!!!😝

Sure thing!!🙃 I hope you enjoy this! Thanks for this request!

141 + König Telling The Reader They Love Them For The First Time

Warnings: mentions of night terrors, mentions of harassment/physical abuse, mentions of crying, fluff

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Simon Ghost Riley-

It was a quiet evening, and you and Simon had just finished dinner when you found yourselves laying in bed together. You'd been together for nine months, and Simon tried to spend all of his free time with you when he was home on from deployment.

Simon sat up briefly to get a drink of water, and the muscles in his shoulders protested his every move. He groaned and rolled them, hoping to ease some of the pain.

This didn't go unnoticed by you, however. Your eyes flicked over to him, and watched as he tried to fight through his discomfort. "Si? You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, love. Just must've slept on it wrong, is all." He waived away your concerns as he took a sip of water.

"Lies. Get on your stomach, now. Shirt off" You demanded, your tone leaving no room for him to question you.

He gave a small chuckle before adhering to your wishes. He laid out on his stomach in front of you on the bed. "Yes ma'am."

You straddled his backside and began to work your fingers into the flesh of his shoulders, smiling to yourself when you heard soft moans emitting from his lips.

"Just the shoulders?" You asked, rubbing at the spot where his shoulders met his neck.

He pulled you into him and pressed kisses along your shoulder, ending with one on your head. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He nodded his head, a groan escaping him. You wiggled your way slightly up his back and really dug your fingers into him, pushing with just enough force not to hurt him. You kept him under your touch for nearly 30 minutes before he moved to lay on his side.

"Of course, Simon. I'm always here for you, whatever you need, you know that." You kissed his hand before tucking your arms around his, holding yourself close to him.

The two of you laid like that for some time, and after a while, he felt your breathing start to deepen. He let himself listen to you, and smiled to himself.

It'd been a very, very long time since Simon had ever felt this relaxed, and he felt for possibly the first time in his life, optimistic about what the future held for him. As long as he had you by his side he'd be happy.

He inhaled deeply before he let those three words escape his lips for the first time. "I love you."

He let himself doze into a peaceful slumber, and unbeknownst to him, you'd heard his confession and fell asleep yourself with the biggest smile on your face, holding him just a bit closer that night.

König-

You and König had been together for some time, but this was the first night that he'd ever spent over your flat. You'd spent the night cooking together, as Konig had just taught you to make one of his favorite Austrian dishes.

Later that night, he two of you were tangled in the sheets together when you began to trace your fingers lightly over some of the scars littering his skin.

"Where'd you get this one?" You asked, your fingers dancing lightly over one of the marks on his abdomen.

Konig's eyes followed to where your fingers laid and let out a small chuckle. "That one, I got hit in the chest by a BB Gun when I was little."

You hummed in response, as you moved to the next one. "This one?"

His eyes darkened slightly, as he shifted his eyes away from the scar your attention was focused on. "That..one.. when I was first enrolled, I was a part of a hazing scheme. A bunch of the older batch of recruits threw rocks at me, and one hit me there, caused a pretty nasty gash."

Your heart shattered at his words, as you looked up to find him staring off in the distance, with a solemn expression on his face. You ran your finger back and forth on the mark before placing a soft kiss to the scarred flesh.

Konig's breath hitched in this throat at your gentle touch, and his eyes moved to your face, studying you intently. You continued to pepper kisses along every scar of his you could find, before pulling your face up to meet his eyes.

"Every one of these scars is beautiful, Ko, just like you. Those guys were jerks." You huffed, annoyed that anyone would've ever treated someone as gentle as your boyfriend in such a horrid way.

Konig's entire world stopped at your words. He'd been called a lot throughout his life, but beautiful was never one of them. Beautiful was something he thought of when he thought of you. To think that you were with him, and truly thought of him as someone who was attractive, had his heart melting. He knew in that moment, that you were the person he wanted to be with, always.

"Y/N." He whispered, catching your drifting attention. You looked up to him, the corners of your lips upturned slightly. "I love you."

You let out a small gasp, as this was the first time, he'd ever told you those words. You hadn't expected them to come from him any time soon.

"I love you too, Konig, always."

John Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny were on a picnic date together, a few months into your relationship, when a random storm cell had passed through the area, causing the skies to open up on the two of you.

"Shit! I didn't think it was supposed to rain!" He yelled out, the rain being so loud he could barely hear himself think.

You let out a laugh as you stood from the blanket and began spinning, letting the rain fall on your face.

Johnny came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist before placing a kiss on your lips.

You pulled away with a small giggle. "I've always wanted to be kissed in the rain."

He gave you a warm glance before returning his lips to yours, pulling you closer into his body.

"It's pishin it doon out here." He chuckled as he pulled away.

"Aye, that it is. I'm absolutely drookit (soaked)." You nodded your head, practically beaming. You hadn't had this much fun in a while.

Johnny's eyes lit up at your words, a goofy smile making its way to his lips. "You know Scottish slang?"

"May have taught myself some." You cheeks reddened at your admission.

He let out a hearty laugh as he picked you up and spun you around. "You are the perfect person for me, ya know that?"

You pressed your lips to his once more as the rain continued to pour down on the two of you. Johnny rested his forehead on yours, his wide smile still etched on his lips. "I love you, Y/N."

The serious tone of his voice had the red in your cheeks deepening in color, as you nuzzled your face in his neck. "I love you too, Johnny."

John Price-

That day, not only did you finally get your kiss in the rain, but the man you loved finally told you those three words you'd been dying to hear, since the day you laid eyes on him.

John had had a terrible day. Nothing was going his way, and his team had just failed their recent mission, letting a piece of valuable intel slip away into enemy's hands.

You were a medic for the team, and yours and John's relationship had been kept under wraps for the better part of 5 months now. You'd heard of what happened on their mission, and had excused yourself from your duties early, to go and find your lover trapped in the confines of his office, his head thrown into his hands.

He noticed your presence right away, his head flying up, a forced smile etched onto his lips. "Hey, love. Sorry I didn't come by earlier. It's uh, been a day."

"No worries hun, I figured. Brought you a little something to help lighten the mood." You gave him a warm smile before placing a burger you'd gotten from the cafeteria, with his favorite bottle of scotch on the tray.

His eyes lit up as he saw the scotch, his gaze immediately turning to you. "Where on earth did you find this?"

"Had a secret stash for days like this, no big deal." You pulled out two plastic cups, and poured some of the liquid in each.

He raised his glass to you as you handed it to him. "You have no idea how much I needed this, thank you."

You gave him a nod before taking a large gulp of the amber liquid, as John watched on in astonishment. It wasn't often he'd seen someone take a full swig of scotch and not make any face, as it had a tendency to be quite strong.

John smiled to himself before taking a swig himself, hissing as the liquid burned the back of his throat. You regarded him thoughtfully, before deciding to speak again. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Just having you here is enough." John shook his head as he held your gaze. He patted his knee, inviting you over to him.

You climbed over on his lap, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. "I'm happy you're back John. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He studied you with a small smile, the alcohol now intensifying the warm feeling pooling in his belly.

"I love you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

You practically glowed, as you absorbed his words, your elation clearly showing on your face as he let out a breathy laugh.

"I love you too, John."

Kyle-

You and Kyle had put together a movie night in for the last night before Kyle's 2 month long deployment. You had been together a little under three months, and couldn't be happier.

You were cuddled on the couch together, finishing some Rom Com you'd convinced Kyle to watch with you, when Kyle noticed you dozing off, and squeezed your arm gently. "Why don't we head to bed, yeah?"

You stretched, in an attempt to wake up yourself up and shook your head. "No, it's okay. We wanted to stay up."

Kyle gave a soft chuckled. "Love, its nearly midnight. Probably best we get some sleep."

You blinked at him a few times, your eyes filling with tears. "But...you leave in the morning."

Kyle's heart throbbed at your words, as he pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled you closer. "I know.. I promise it'll fly. I know that doesn't make it easier though."

You sniffled as you buried yourself in his chest, tightly grasping at his shirt. "Promise me you'll come back?"

Kyle lifted your head gently, as he stared into your eyes. "I promise you, Y/N."

The two of you knew that it wasn't a promise that he could make, but his words brought you solace nonetheless. You both sat huddled in each other's arms before his words had your ears perking up. "I love you."

You turned to him, your tears now falling freely down your cheeks. "I love you too, Kyle."

"Well darn, now I truly have to make sure I come home. I've got to hear those words coming out of your lips at least a trillion more times before I die."

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A/N: thanks for reading!!!😊🩵

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thebirdandthebee · 8 months

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Back to Sleep (18+)

A little something to try to get back into writing - let me know what you think! 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Back to Sleep Ain't sorry that I woke ya. WC: 1839

“Baby, you almost done?” Jake asked from the kitchen, where he’s just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. “Come on, let’s be couch potatoes,” he insists.

It’s tempting, it really is, but you’ve got so much work to get done to stay ahead of schedule. Perched at the dining room table, your hair was tossed up in a ponytail as you focused on the laptop ahead. Yes, you were first in your class in your occupational therapy program, but final exams were coming and you were gunning for the number-one spot.

“You go ahead and I’ll meet you,” you said, tipping your head back for your fiancé to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’ve been studying like a maniac for weeks,” Jake pointed out, one hand gripping the back of your chair and the other braced on the corner of the dining table, “one night isn’t going to break your streak – exam isn’t for a few weeks, still.”

“I know, I promise, give me thirty minutes,” you insisted, looking up at him through your blue light glasses that you knew he loved.

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, kissing you again.

But thirty minutes came and went, and you were still staring intently at your computer. Admittedly, Jake got swept up in Thursday Night Football, and at halftime, he shook out of it.

“Excuse me,” he called from over the back of the couch, “Where is my fiancé?” He asked. You peeled your eyes off of your study cards, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Twenty more minutes!” You called back, tucking your hair behind your ear. But as twenty minutes passed once again, you found Jake dragging your chair back from the table. “Jake, please, I’m on a roll,” you whined. You barely had time to grab up your notecards before Jake lifted you from the chair to bring you over to the sofa.

“You can study from the couch if you must,” he said, only somewhat dramatically.

And that’s how the evening progressed, with you flipping through notes and Jake’s arm firmly around your shoulder as the clock ticked later and later. Soon, you were yawning and focusing more on the back of your eyelids than your flashcards.

“Jake,” you murmured, eyes still shut. “I gotta sleep,” you said, reaching over and patting him on the stomach twice.

“I’m going to finish the game, be up in a second,” he assured. You dropped another sweet kiss on his lips before making your way upstairs, flashcards in hand. After changing into a pair of Jake’s boxer briefs and a big t-shirt, you crawled into bed, still flipping through your notes.

Jake was surprised to see you still awake when he came up to bed about forty-five minutes later. Leaving the bathroom door open, he quickly showered and brushed his teeth

“Baby, time for bed,” he gently plucked the cards out of your fingers, tossing them onto his nightstand. You groaned quietly but snuggled up to his side instead. You’d been hitting the books hard and it was finally catching up to you. Jake’s warm, vetiver skin lulled you quickly to sleep.

However, much later, during the wee hours of the night, Jake awoke to find your side of the bed empty. His eyes strained in the dark night and if he listened carefully, he could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered, wiping at his eyes as he rolled out of bed, lazily pulling his sweatpants up his hips to pull the drawstring tight. He padded down the stairs to see you yet again perched at the dining room table, the chandelier above dimmed to the lowest setting. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes still adjusting to the light, “it’s almost three in the morning.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see your fiancé frowning at you in the soft light.

“I know, but I had a dream that I showed up for exam day and couldn’t remember the steps to the malleability scale and I woke up panicking,” you listed off. “I just thought if I could re-arrange some of these class notes into a more visual aid, it would help me remember,” you gestured to the computer, a giant yawn overtaking your face.

“Babe, it’s time for bed,” Jake said, stepping closer. You protectively splayed your hands across your notebook on the table.

“I’m not done,” you said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Jake reached over closing your laptop.

“You’re done. Bed, now,” he ordered, which gave you a little shiver, but you complied nonetheless – dragging your feet down the hall. Luckily for you, you could turn the brightness down on your phone and run through the study guide your leading MD sent out.

After tucking into bed yet again, Jake rolled over, invading your space.

“Phone,” he said, holding out his empty palm.

“Jake,” you began to protest. He tipped his chin up in a challenge. “I need it for my alarm,” you weakly argued.

“We have an alarm clock and I’ll make sure you’re up,” he reassured as you reluctantly placed your phone in his hand. Jake rolled over, his back to you as he set your phone on the side table before snuggling down into the mattress.

“M’not even tired,” you lied with a petulant tone. Jake rolled his eyes, not that you could see it. You spent the next minute being dramatic, sighing heavily and flipping all around to find a comfortable position.

“Baby, go to sleep,” Jake grumbled. You glared at his back for a moment before flopping on your back, arms crossed over your chest, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you could remember what the study guide looked like from memory.

A few beats passed.

“I swear to god just you being awake like this is keeping me up,” Jake said with finality, rolling over to face you, a stern expression on his face.

“You could have kept sleeping if you just left me alone at the table,” you pointed out.

“You have to sleep or that pretty little brain aint’ gonna remember shit,” he countered, nearly taunting. With a huff, you turned to face away from him, lying on your hip with one knee bent up.

“M’not even tired,” you mumbled again. Ten seconds later, you jumped when you felt Jake’s full body pressing into you from behind.

“You’re not even tired, huh?” Jake asked, knowing damn well you were just being a brat.

“No,” you grumbled, trying to keep in a squeal as his stubble scraped against your neck.

“You want me to put you to sleep?” He breathed into your ear, big hand landing on your upper thigh, just below where his boxer briefs had ridden up your leg with all your tossing and turning.

“You can’t,” you replied, still feeling put off by Jake confiscating your flashcards.

“Sure I can,” he said, hips shifting so you could feel his soft erection against you.

“Bet I can get you to sleep in twenty minutes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“Not even tired,” you tried not to gasp as his fingertips slipped below the stretchy band of your borrowed shorts.

“How can you be tired when you’re this wet?” He asked, swiping his fingers through your sex, making you huff.

“You know I like those boxers on you,” you muttered, embarrassed, but at least you were honest. “You’re on the clock, Hangman,” you reminded. Jake gladly cradled your clit between his two fingers, rolling them up and down against your skin. The way you almost avoided his touch by pressing your hips down into the mattress made him grin. Sometimes it was almost too easy. You frowned softly into your pillow as you felt Jake’s hand retreat from your body, but squealed as he quickly dragged the waistband of his boxers all the way down to your ankles.

Jake softly huffed as he pressed his blunt tip against your sex, jaw clenching at the resistance as he sunk in further and further. Turning him further beneath you, your front was pressed down into the mattress.

“How’s that, hmm?” He murmured in your ear. “Gonna listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep, smart girl?” You simply whined gently at the feeling as he filled you. “You hear me?” He asked, knowing he was being haughty.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pushing your hips back against him. Jake reached underneath you, palming your breast in his hand as he continued to fuck you gently down into the mattress. “Jake,” you huffed softly.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed patronizingly. “Put you right back to sleep tonight,” he snapped his hips, making you jump. His hand traveled down your stomach, the other braced against the bed so he didn’t squish you entirely, to find your clit again, and gently circling it.

You could feel it start to tickle at the soles of your feet – a telltale sign of impending orgasm.

“More,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently both from pleasure and pure exhaustion.

“More?” Jake asked, pulling his hand out from between your body and the mattress, dipping his fingers in his mouth as his hips continued their steady thrusts. Zeroing in on your clit once more, he knew you were getting close – after this long together, he could read you like a book. He didn’t mind, he was close as well. “Going to fill you right up with a sleeping pill,” he didn’t care that he sounded corny, he was putting his money where his mouth was. One more strategic roll of his fingers and you were fluttering around Jake’s cock, toes curled tight at the end of the bed.

“There we go,” Jake grunted, meeting his own orgasm as he pumped into you dutifully. “That’s a good girl,” he exhaled.

You hated it when Jake was right, because now, your eyelids felt like they were being weight down with bags of cement. Whining once more as he withdrew, you jumped when he tapped the head of his spent cock against your clit.

“Wait right here, precious,” he said, pressing a kiss to the round of your hip.

As if you were going anywhere now. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you knew an alarm was set for the morning, because now you simply couldn’t be bothered to lift your head from the pillow.

“Warmed it up for you, baby,” Jake murmured as a warning before a wet washcloth swiped through your folds. “I know, I know,” he hushed. Jake wiped himself down before padding across the room to drop the towel in the laundry hamper.

Crawling back onto the mattress, he threw a blanket over the two of you, double checking his alarm once more before tossing an arm over your waist. Your lashes laid across your cheekbones in pure serenity as you entered deep sleep.

“Thought you weren’t tired, huh?”

#jake seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fluff #hangman smut #hangman fic #hangman x reader

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angelltheninth · 6 months

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The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, confession, friends to lovers, teasing, first kiss as a couple, injuries, post mission, suggestive towards the end, cute and stubborn Jason Todd

Word count: 1.2k

Flufftober Day 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

A/N: Next work for my flufftober. Glad Jason got this one cause I feel like it fits him very well.

"That didn't go quite as expected." Jason groaned as he collapsed on the couch. It was a tedious task dragging him back to his apartment, but he kept telling you what an asshole you'd be if you left him, all the while being an asshole himself with all his accidental leaning into you which you were almost sure wasn't accidental. "Can you get my first aid kit? You know where it is."

Yes, you did know because you patched him up way too many times to count. He could do it himself but you didn't trust him to do a good enough job and give himself time to heal. Jason was an impulsive man who tended to jump in guns blazing first and think later.

Frustrating as it was he was still one of your best friends and you always had his back.

"Why is your place always such a mess?" You put the first aid kit on the living room table, careful not to knock more things on the floor. There were shirts everywhere, shoes and you swore you saw his boxers, at which you would never look at intentionally of course. "I know you're busy but you could clean up every once in a while. If you had less things on your floor you might get injured less."

"Well maybe my place and I could both you some... women's touch." Jason wiggled his eyebrows at you. You moved his hands away from him, eyes narrowing at his choice of words. He was such a tease but it never went anywhere with him. Flirting was almost like second nature to him. "But you don't need to baby me you know. I can do things on my own."

"Of course you can but you refuse to. I would offer to move in but that might hurt your chances with... all the pretty ladies you always brag about." You pulled his face closer to clean the bruise above his eye, "You got punched real good here. You sure you still see okay?"

"Okay enough to see you smiling at me. Either that or you're making fun of me, honestly I can't tell." It was the first one, although seeing him get pissed off when he got punched out of nowhere was pretty funny. Less so for the unlucky robber.

Looking back at that there was something that bothered you about the whole thing.

You pressed the bandage to Jason's forehead. When he hissed you had to chuckle, it wasn't often that he made noises like these, mostly there were grumpy or annoyed grunts or laughing.

"When you got that punch, it didn't look like you weren't expecting it." Jason nodded in agreement, feeling the bandage with his fingers.

"I wasn't expecting the idiot to hit so hard. I got hit a lot harder though, it's nothing to really fuss about. But... thanks."

"A thank you from the Jason Todd? Are you sure you don't have a concussion? Maybe you should lie down. Want me to tuck you to bed?" You booped him on the nose and watched the cute way it bunched up accompanied by his cuter pout. "Or I could push you down and pin you until you fall asleep."

He grabbed your wrists in retaliation and pulled them into his lap, "You wish you could pin me down. No one does that."

"Yeah, given how you took that punch you're more likely to get knocked out." His eyes narrowed further because you knew, you knew he could take a lot more then that but it was so rare that you got to reverse the tables on him and be the one who teases him instead. "Hey, speaking of taking punches, did you... take that one for me?"

"Wha- n-no! Why- I ran to you and... he was there! I- if I wasn't there you probably would have gotten really hurt so it's probably a good thing you know. But it wasn't like... I'm glad you weren't hurt in the end." You saw a little blush cross his features and his biceps flex under his shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, his pout getting even more adorable by the minute.

He was so fun to tease.

"Well regardless, that was very sweet of you." When he looked back at you he couldn't help but smile at you. It was slightly bashful.

The hands on his arms flexed hard as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, mumbling under his breath. "I'm not that sweet." And that was why he was secretly the sweetest. "Besides, how do you know I didn't only do it for the reward of having a pretty woman walk me home?" His hands returned to your wrists, his thumb running over your suit. "I heard that women love a tough guy."

"Yeah but not a jerk. I do love you though." As soon as the words left your mouth both of you stopped dead in your tracks. "Er... I mean... as a... you're a really great..." You struggled to find a way out of this confession but Jason wasn't letting it go, or you as a matter of fact, he pulled you close against his chest, a cocky smile replacing his previous one.

"Wait, you love me?" He smiled so hard that the little bruise on his lip started to bleed.

You could do something about that but should you? Jason is one of your best friends, and a teammate. Then again you already said it, would taking the next step being so terrible? "I always have." Your tongue fluttered out to give his bloody lip a lick before kissing him fully.

Jason melted against the couch and took you with him, his arms fully embracing you and returning the kiss, not caring how it stung because feeling your lips against his was a much better feeling. You shifted upwards a little and grabbed his face in your hands, finally free of his grip on your wrists. One of your hands cupped his jaw, the other went to his hair, feeling how soft it was. Surprisingly so.

"And how long did you want to do that for?" He asked already knowing what you would say.

"Since I saw you with your shirt off."

"Like this?" Heat spread across your cheeks as you saw him lifting his shirt up but half way through he groaned painfully, "Ah, fuck! My ribs!" He was stuck with his arms caught in his shirt, "Hey... can you give me a hand?"

You ran your hands across his chest, seeing where the bruise on his ribs formed. It looked so painful. In a different scenario this would be the perfect opportunity to tease him, but a little too soon to take your relationship that far just yet. As you took his shirt off fully your lips found his again as he reached for the zipper of your suit as well, slowly pulling it down and finding naked skin, "Jason. You're hurt." You gasped when his hips bucked upwards, "Jason!"

"So cute when you're flustered. Can we at least keep kissing? I know we only did it twice but, damn I wish we did it sooner." Honestly you did too. There will be plenty of time for that once he stops acting like he's getting stabbed when you press against his chest. "Imagine if I went to hospital and told them I broke my ribs thrusting into-"

"Oh my god, shut up please!" He won't. Not without incentive. Luckily your lips were just the thing.

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roosterforme · 11 months

Text

Batting Practice Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After the perfect day at the ballpark and a Phillies victory, the only thing you want is a sleepover with Bradley. But it's the care and attention he gives not only you, but also your son, that makes you want more and more with him.

Warnings: Smut, fluff and swearing

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You were leaning across the seat, kissing Bradley's neck and whispering how much you had missed him while he drove. "The last week without you was unbearable, Coach."

"Kitten," he groaned as your hand cupped him through his jeans. "Baby, I'll never hurt you again. I'm so sorry."

You licked his jaw and whispered, "I know you won't. I believe you."

Bradley still felt like he was imagining this. He managed to get you and Everett back, but he would absolutely refuse to thank Jake for helping him. Hangman owed him that much.

But Bradley would thank you. Over and over again.

"You can trust me, Kitten. I'm an idiot, sure, but I won't hurt you or Everett. You know I can't stand to see that kid cry."

You moaned softly next to his ear. "That makes you so sexy." As your fingers stroked along his inner thigh, he exited the highway and checked to make sure Everett was still sleeping in the rear view mirror. "Will you sleepover with me?"

He parked in your driveway behind your car and yanked you onto his lap. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything you want. I'll stay with you." You were yanking at his hair and rubbing yourself on him, and Bradley was trying his best to focus. He needed to get Everett inside and in bed before he could do anything else, and you didn't seem like you'd be able to make the best decisions on your own right now.

Bradley took your chin a little roughly in his hand. "Kitten, let me get Ev inside and tucked in bed first, yeah?"

You bit your lip and shivered in his arms, and he thought about just fucking you in the driveway. "Okay. Yeah. Let's take him inside."

Bradley lifted you out of the Bronco and set you down outside, and then he opened the back door and lifted Everett out of the booster seat. You ran ahead of him and unlocked the front door and turned on some lights. "Bedrooms are upstairs," you whispered as you kicked off your shoes, and Bradley followed you up the steps.

Everett's bedroom was to the right, and when you flipped on the nightlight, Bradley saw that it was a hodgepodge of dinosaurs, baseball and trains. You pulled Everett's shoes off and set his home run baseball and Phillies cap on his dresser next to the baseball card binder. Bradley took his time, setting Everett gently down in his bed and smoothing the sheet and comforter over him.

He stood there for a moment, and you slipped your hand in his but didn't pressure him to leave yet. Bradley loved being in your house and seeing Everett's room. He turned toward you and scooped you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Thanks for coming today," he whispered, carrying you back out into the hallway. "It would have killed me to have the third seat empty."

You pressed your lips to his as he found your room at the other end of the hallway, while your fingers tugged through his hair. The bedside lamp was on, and the room was glowing in the soft light. "I didn't want to have to tell you no."

He grinned against your lips. "I bet I can make you say yes a bunch of times."

You gasped against his lips, and he was about to set you down on your bed, when he paused. The stuffed Phanatic was propped up on your nightstand, and you were rubbing yourself against his abs again. He wanted you so badly in every way.

"Bradley," you whined, and he eased you gently down onto your back and kissed your lips and your chin and your neck.

He nudged your legs further apart and whispered against your neck, "Kitten, is this a good time to ask you to officially be my girlfriend?"

You grinned. "It's an excellent time."

"Mmm, good. Yeah." He kissed your lips hard, but you broke away, giggling underneath him.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" You propped yourself up on your elbows and ran your feet up and down his thighs.

"Oh, right. Kitten, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," you replied, unbuttoning his jersey and pushing it off his shoulders. You yanked his undershirt off and tossed it across the room, running your fingers through his sparse chest hair. Bradley awkwardly kicked his shoes off, sending one of them under your bed while you giggled again. But when he yanked your shirt up and pressed his lips to your belly button, you moaned. He kissed your soft skin while he unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans.

"Mmm, I love you." When his tongue peeked out to taste you just above your pink lace underwear, you bucked up against him. "Relax, Kitten. I'll get my mouth on that pussy soon, baby."

"Bradley!" you groaned, bucking again before he hauled you to the middle of the bed so he had more room to work.

"I'm right here," he replied softly, kissing your lips as he eased your shirt up. You arched your back so he could remove it, and he found a pink bra that matched your panties. "This is cute. I'm starting to think you wore this on purpose today."

You sighed as he stroked your tits through the fabric. "Nothing wrong with hoping," you told him as he yanked your jeans off. Bradley guided your legs up in the air and kissed the backs of your thighs, slowly easing your underwear along your legs and past your bent knees. He groaned as your pussy and your ass were on display for him, and he tossed your panties aside.

"God damn, Kitten." He held your thighs with both hands and then spread your legs apart, sinking down until he was kissing your inner thighs and inhaling your perfect scent. "Fuck."

You reached down, tangled your fingers in his wavy hair, and guided his head until his mustache was brushing against your wet slit. "Taste me," you demanded breathlessly. "Now."

Bradley sucked on your slit, getting his face coated in your wetness as your fingers tightened in his hair. He dipped his tongue inside you without warning, and the sound you made had him grunting against you. He sucked and nibbled on you next to your opening and you were rubbing yourself up to meet his every move.

"Bradley," you gasped, running your feet along his shoulders as he pressed his nose against your clit. When he dragged his lips up to suck on you there, you moaned a string of expletives in such a husky voice, his cock throbbed in his jeans. He sealed his lips around you and used his tongue, and a moment later you were practically screaming, still pulling his hair.

"Kitten," he growled, looking up at you, back arched off the bed in pleasure. You were going to get loud, and while he couldn't fucking wait, he needed to close the door. He kissed you softly and licked you once before he released you and stood.

"Where are you going?" you whined, propping yourself up on one hand with wide eyes and parted lips. You looked like a dream, pouting at him to come back to bed and bring you pleasure. Bradley unzipped his jeans, grunting as he freed his cock. He pulled his jeans off and stroked himself through his boxer shorts as you whimpered.

Then he softly closed your bedroom door and made his way back to the bed. "Just wanted to close the door so you can get louder." You eased yourself onto your back and watched him crawl across the bed toward you. He pushed you down into the plush bedding, letting his weight rest on top of you while he kissed your lips, and your tongue came out to taste yourself on him. You whimpered, and it was such a pretty sound. He pressed his mustache just below your ear and asked, "You want my mouth on your pussy again?"

"Please," you gasped, and Bradley watched your eyes flutter closed as he slipped one finger inside you.

"Been thinking about getting you wet since the pool party. Wanted to fuck you in the kitchen that day."

Your guttural groan as he added a second finger had you bucking against his hand. When you grabbed him by his hair again, he grinned at you. "Okay, Kitten," he mumbled and he eased himself down your body to wrap his lips around your clit again, making you get louder.

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

You were soaking wet. You'd never been this wet before. Bradley had his face buried in your pussy, and you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too, especially whenever you guided him with your hands in his hair. But now that you were close, you wanted to feel his cock inside you. "I want you to fuck me," you whined, wondering if you'd even be able to sit up right now. You were pretty sure you left a wet spot on the bed, and Bradley was licking your mess from his lips as he took his boxers off.

You reached for him with your legs spread wide, and when you wrapped your fingers around his velvety length, he moaned. "I just want to make this perfect pussy feel good," he growled as he knelt between your wet thighs.

Your moan was loud as you sat up and scooted closer to him until his cock was rubbing against your pussy. "Oh god, you're making me crazy, Coach," you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. He guided you back down, his tip pressing into your entrance as you keened for him. "Please!" You thrust your hips toward him fucking yourself around him as your head tipped back.

"Kitten, baby, do you have condoms?" he asked, but you could feel him pushing himself deeper as he grunted.

"I'm on the pill," you told him, and then he bottomed out inside you as you screeched. "Oh! God, Bradley! And I always made Frank use a condom."

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting. "Fucking hell, baby. You're so god damn tight," he gasped, moving inside you. "And you're gonna let me fuck you bare? I love you, Kitten. I do. This is too much. You feel so fucking good."

You knew you were getting loud, but you couldn't help it. He loved you. "Say it again," you demanded as his big hands wrapped around your back to unclasp your bra. He met your eyes as he tossed the pretty lace aside.

"I love you." Then his lips were wrapped around your nipple as he fucked you hard, making your breasts bounce against his face. "How could I not? You're perfect."

You basked in the feel of him inside you and on top of you. His movements were so intentional, unlike anyone else. He was making you feel like everything you wanted and needed was important.

His jaw was clenched as he pressed his face against your neck and kept you so full of his big cock, you were already getting close. "I should have known," he growled. "Should have known you'd make all these noises like you did in the Bronco. Like you did over the phone when I was away. You like getting loud."

You were making a gasping sound as Bradley pressed his lips to yours, and you couldn't keep quiet. "Bradley!"

"Baby, you'll wake Ev," Bradley told you, and all the veins in his neck were straining as he pounded you into the bed before withdrawing. "Roll over."

You did as you were told, and it was maybe even better. Bradley fucked you face down into your pillow while he wrapped his right arm around your waist to rub your clit with your butt popped up in the air. He kept bottoming out and holding himself there, and each time it felt like another thread snapped until you were tumbling into your orgasm.

"I love you, Kitten," he whispered next to your ear. "I love you."

You squeezed his cock, rocking your hips back into his as he filled you with his cum, his fingers finally slowing on your overstimulated clit. You lifted your head to look back at him over your shoulder, panting to catch your breath.

"You're wild," Bradley said with a soft laugh, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

You didn't know you were wild. Frank was a dud in bed, and Danny only got you off occasionally, but it was never on purpose. Wild. Maybe you were only like this for Bradley.

"I couldn't even get off with Frank unless I was thinking about you," you reminded Bradley and he kissed your shoulder blade.

"Oh, I know. I love thinking about that," he said, his lips moving against your skin. "I love that I can make you wild." You settled your cheek against the pillow as Bradley kept himself buried inside you. He kissed along your shoulders and caressed your lower back and thighs with his hands as he eased you flat against the bed.

His lips, hands and mustache were giving you goosebumps, and when he finally withdrew from you with a soft groan, you were in a blissful state of relaxation on your pillow.

"Kitten, I need to go out to my car," Bradley murmured, climbing out of bed.

You sat up and watched him reach for his boxers and his undershirt. "I thought you were going to stay with me?" Now he was reaching under your bed in search of his shoes.

"I am, baby," he promised as he stood, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead. "I have something for you in my glove box. I'll be right back."

You snuggled under your blanket and listened to his feet on your stairs and the squeak of your front door. When you didn't hear his Bronco start up, but rather the sound of your front door again, you sighed in relief. He was staying. He was going to stay over.

"This is for you," he announced softly as soon as he walked back into your room in just his underwear, shoes and a plain white tee. He was so handsome and looked so eager, you smiled and sat up. He was holding a golden chain with a little charm on it. "I didn't want to give it to you earlier and make it seem like I was just trying to get you to take me back. I bought it in Lemoore, and it's been in my car."

He sat down next to you as you grasped the little paw print charm and laughed. "Is this because you call me Kitten?"

He stroked your neck and kissed you so softly. "You're my Kitten," he whispered, and your nipples got hard for him as he clasped the necklace in place.

Bradley gathered you onto his lap and ran his fingers along the chain. It was the only thing you were wearing, and you felt like it was a label. "Looks good," he told you, letting his fingers trail down between your breasts eliciting a whimper from you. Bradley groaned and let his fingers drift all the way down your belly until he was stroking your clit.

To your surprise, you were ready for him again. You were still filled with his cum, but he didn't seem to mind as kissed your necklace and teased two fingers at your entrance. You rode his fingers as he moved at a leisurely pace, like it didn't matter how long it took, he was planning on getting you off at least one more time.

"You have such a sweet pussy, Kitten. Are you wet because you want me or because you're filled up with my cum?"

You moaned at his words, head tipped back as you rubbed yourself against his undershirt.

"I want to hear you say it," he growled, and you felt yourself clench softly around his fingers.

"It's both," you whined, and he stroked your clit, your body responding like it was a reward. "I want you! And your cum is in my pussy!"

His lips settled unhurriedly on your neck, and he urged you to straddle him and grind yourself against his erection. He was hard, but he wasn't rushing you, so you got yourself good and worked up. Your voice was unsteady, and you felt yourself shaking as he pulled his boxers down below his balls, and you rode him right there on the edge of the bed. He was big and strong, and his feet were planted firmly on your floor.

You bounced on him until you were gasping his name, head tipped back while he held you in place with both of his big hands on your hips. He was stroking your skin with his thumbs and praising you, and every time your clit met his pubic hair, you almost lost your mind.

"I love feeling your body enjoying me," he whispered against your breasts. "So tight and warm."

You circled your hips a few times, and then you were making some seriously crazed noises as you came. Your movements became jerky, and then you went a little boneless as he held you tight. And when you felt more of cum dripping out of your pussy, you decided you wouldn't mind if Bradley kept you filled like this all the time.

Exhausted, you draped your arms around his neck and let him hold you. He was telling you how good you were as you shivered at his touch.

"You're staying, right?"

"I'm not leaving."

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

You were curled up in bed, wearing Bradley's undershirt with the front of his body pressed to your back. "What time do I need to leave in the morning, Kitten?"

Your contented sigh had his lips on your shoulder immediately. "Do you want to stay for breakfast before work?"

Now that you mentioned it as an option, it was literally the only thing Bradley wanted. "Is that okay? With Ev?"

"Mmm," you hummed. "If you're my boyfriend, then I think Everett can get used to you being around." Your voice was sleepy, but you had Bradley fully alert now. "Unless you need to leave early to get your uniform."

"I'll make pancakes," he promised as you dozed off. It took him awhile, but your even breathing finally lulled him to sleep as well, his big hand spread across your belly.

When your alarm went off at six, you and Bradley both jolted awake. You scrambled away from him to grab your phone and turn it off, and then Bradley was pulling you into his arms again. He'd slept so soundly in your bed, and whether it was because he was finally no longer in turmoil or because you made him feel so good, he wasn't sure. But as you turned in his arms to face him, he thought maybe it was both.

"Morning, Coach," you whispered with a smile as you kissed him softly. Your fingers were laced with his, and you were so close to him, he could touch any part of you he wanted. And so he did.

He ran his hand up your back, enjoying the feel of your soft skin against his calloused palm. "I love you."

You smiled as your eyes drifted closed. "I love you, too. Yesterday was perfect."

"You're perfect," he replied instantly, and he meant it. "What time does Ev get up? I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so you can kick me out if you want."

You glared at him. "I thought you were making me pancakes?"

He laughed against your lips. "I can do that."

Bradley took a quick shower with you, and then he dressed in his jeans and undershirt while he watched you get dressed in one of your suits for work. You put on a little makeup and talked to him the whole time. It felt natural, like you and he did this on a regular basis.

"It's Monday!" you said suddenly. "I'll get to see you at practice!" You were adjusting your new necklace, and Bradley couldn't take his eyes off you.

"I've been thinking, I need to start practicing more with Everett, pitch to him for real. Because if he wants to graduate from tee ball to baseball next year, he's going to need some more of the basic skills. But we do have almost a year to get him there."

You turned to look at him fully, your lips parted, but you didn't say anything for a moment. "You're gonna stick around," you whispered, and he wasn't sure if it was a question or not.

"Yeah, Kitten." He nodded without a doubt in his mind.

Then he heard the toilet down the hallway flush, and when you opened your bedroom door with Bradley behind you, Everett was standing in the hallway outside his room. His eyes were wide. You went to him, wrapping him in a hug with your high heels in one hand.

"Morning, Ev." You kissed the top of his head, but he was looking past you to Bradley. And suddenly Bradley was wishing he had left when your alarm went off, because the last thing he wanted to do was upset this kid.

"Did you have a sleepover?" he asked, and Bradley nodded but let you do the talking.

"Uh, yeah... and now Bradley offered to make us some pancakes before I take you to school."

Everett nodded and asked, "Next time you sleepover, can we make a pillow fort before bed?"

"Absolutely, kiddo," Bradley confirmed with a smile. "Should I try to make pancakes that look like baseballs and bats?"

"Yeah! That's a good idea! Especially since the Phillies won!" Everett cheered, and Bradley followed him down to the kitchen with you right behind him. He got everything ready for pancakes, and soon Everett was eating three baseballs and a weird looking bat while you packed three lunches.

Bradley sat at the table and ate with Everett next him and you across from him, listening to Everett complain about his math homework. And he felt like he fit in here. He could make pancakes and pillow forts and have a packed lunch made for him. He could do math homework and make you scream all night. He could love this shit.

"Math is important," he told Everett. "I use it all day at work. So does your mom. And if you want me to teach you how to keep baseball stats, you'll need to be proficient."

Everett's eyes went wide. "You'll teach me how to do baseball stats?"

"Of course, kiddo. I gotta go home and get my uniform before I'm late, but I can help you with math homework one day if you want. I'll see you at practice later." He patted Everett's shoulder and collected all the dirty dishes so you didn't have to, depositing them in the sink. Bradley picked up the paper bag that said Coach in your handwriting, and he smiled. And then he pulled you out of your seat and into his arms.

"Have a good day. We'll see you at practice later," you whispered. And Bradley kissed your cheek.

"I can't wait. I love you." And then he headed out to the Bronco with a bounce in his step.

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

You and Everett both looked at your front door as it clicked closed behind Bradley. When you turned to face your son, you were bracing yourself for the conversation you figured you might need to have if he seemed upset. But he looked absolutely elated, his expression rivaling the way he looked when the Phillies defeated the Padres last night.

"Ev, do you want to talk about-"

"Mommy! Coach Bradley loves you!" Everett shouted, cutting you off.

Your son was staring at you in wonder and you walked around the table to give him a hug. "Yeah."

"Do you love him, too?"

You kissed Everett's head and whispered, "Yeah. I do."

"This was the best weekend ever!"

You couldn't help but agree.

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

Coach loves Kitten and Ev! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 17

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1K notes · View notes

yelenasdiary · 1 month

Text

Forbidden || Chapter I - Welcome To Blisswater

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Bishop! Reader.

Summary: Just outside of the small town of Blisswater, lives two young sisters, Kate & Y/n Bishop. It's hard not to know who the Bishops are, Kate is the eldest by a year. She is a beautiful young woman, smart, protective and is known to have a talent in using a bow. Y/n, she is shy but quiet as some would say but nevertheless, she holds her own talents and can often be seen tending to the animals of Bishop Ranch. One evening while Kate is out hunting to make some money, Y/n is surprised with an unwanted guest, Yelena Belova. A bounty Hunter from Drybellow who has taken shelter in the young Bishop's barn after being wounded from a gun fight.

Struggling to keep money following, Y/n has no choice but to take the bounty hunter's offer of $5 a day if she is able to help the woman recover. During Yelena's stay, the two grow closer, a little too close if the wrong pair of eyes were to see them.

| No Warnings, I don’t think? | 3.6K |

Forbidden Masterlist

"I'm leaving Lucky here with you" Kate, my older sister said as she entered the dining room, "I'll be gone for a least two days at the most. Will you be okay to handle things here?" she asked. A few, long months ago, our parents went on a business trip and are yet to return. Kate and I have been left to run the ranch and keep money flowing until they return, although we haven't heard from them, not even a single letter. My worries for them are endless. "Of course, I will be" I smiled before taking a mouthful of the porridge I made for us.

"Do you need anything from town before I go?" she asked while putting her bowl in the sink for me to wash later, "no, I think we have everything we need. Just be safe, please" I looked to her. "Always, rabbit" she smiled. Kate has always called me rabbit, ever since we were younger. It comes from when my adult teeth were still coming through, they reminded her of a rabbit's front teeth when they would nibble on their food. "I'm just going to go get Arrow saddled up then I'll be on my way" she added before walking out the back door.

I'm used to Kate leaving for a day or two, she goes off hunting for us while I tend to the ranch. We have 3 cows, 5 pigs and 6 sheep! All of which have names of their own, of course. I've been saving some money to buy a couple of chickens so we can have our own fresh eggs. My father said we'd get some but that was before he and mother left on their trip. Today seems like it will be an easy day, feed the animals then off to the general store for my shift.

"Alright, you know the rules" Kate spoke as she returned from saddling up Arrow, "father's rifle is in the case under your bed and please, don't let any of those wandering men stay too long! You can't trust everybody just because they say they've had a long day" she adds. "Yes, I know! You don't need to remind of that every single time, it was just once. Besides, Mr Lang has some very interesting stories to tell" I replied. I wish Mr Lang would return; his stories were almost unbelievable.

"I guess I don't need to remind you to get some more coffee and canned peaches after your shift then?" Kate rolled her eyes at me as she tucked a few canned goods into her saddle bag. "You just did" I replied, sarcastically. "Let's go Lucky! We don't want to be late" I patted my right thigh after placing my used bowl in the sink for laters problem. "Hey!" Kate stopped me just as I was leaving the kitchen, "be safe, okay? If you need anything Mr Barnes is only a call away" she reminds me, again!

We have a bell that Kate brought, it's rather large. I am to ring it if I'm in any trouble and Mr Barnes, the Salon owner, will come over and see what the matter is. Im not exactly sure how he's able to hear the ringing sound from so far away, we've done a couple of test runs and so far I haven't had the need to use it.

"Yeah yeah, how about you be safe? I can't do everything around here if you go missing too!" I smiled softly at my older sister, she knows I'm joking. If anything were to happen to her, she knows I'd be okay…I guess.

Lucky follows me around everywhere, especially when Kate goes off on her hunt. He'll come to the general store and wait outside by the door until I've finished my duties. Mr Wilson doesn't mind, he loves Lucky and even asked Aunt May to bake some of her famous cookies that everybody in town loves, she makes a little extra and dog friendly ones for Lucky. Everybody calls her Aunt May, not really sure why though, I think it's because she's such an aunt to everybody. Almost like a grandma that cooks everybody's favorite treats for the tea party.

The walk to town is always peaceful. In the warmer seasons, it can be rather hot but on days like today when the sun is just starting to peek over the mountains from afar, the wind isn't too cold and the birds sing their morning song, it's relaxing and maybe I tend to take smaller steps just to soak up the morning fresh air before I stay inside for most of it.

"Good morning young Y/n!" A rather tall and very muscular man smiles to me, it's Thor. Nobody actually knows why his name is Thor, considering it's a very unusual name but he's very lovely. "Good morning, Thor! Keeping well I see" I replied with a friendly smile as Lucky and I slowly make our way past the Salon. "Oh, you know me! Can't resist the great liquor that is served here" the most likely drunken man chuckles. It's barely 7am and he is drinking. I guess that's a hobby for most people around here.

Blisswater isn't a town for much entertainment, you have your basics. The Saloon ran and owned by Mr Barnes, the General store ran and owned by Mr Wilson, the doctors office with the only doctor within miles, Mr Banner. The gunsmith, Mr Barton owns and supplies Kate with discounts on arrows and sometimes ammunition for us. Mr Fury is the towns barber, my father wasn't a fan of him but when he was desperate for a cut, he had no choice but to see him. Then there's Sheriff Rogers, T'Challa the friendly banker, Peter the newspaper boy (by the way, he's love for me isn't exactly a secret!) and Mr Quill is the towns blacksmith.

So that's all there really is to know about who lives in and around Blisswater, it's a small town. A town where everybody knows everybody, and word travels faster than you can blink! We all look out for each other here and most don't take kindly to newcomers. Sometimes we have outlaw gangs come passing through, they spend the night at the Saloon, get drunk and make a mess of themselves before pushing on by the afternoon. The walk-through town the following morning is usually a sight of Mr Barnes boarding up the windows of the Saloon from their drunken fights.

The bell rings loudly as I open the door of the general store, and I'm greeted with Mr Wilson's warm and welcoming smile. "Good morning, Mr Wilson!" I smiled.

"Please, Y/n, call me Sam! I've known you long enough" he chuckles before reaching down behind the counter for the plate of Aunt May's famous cookies.

"I'm sorry, it's habit! I see Aunt May has come early this morning" I wandered up to the counter taking one delicious treat. "Lucky's biscuits are back here as well; did you bring him this morning?" Mr Wilson, I mean, Sam asked. "Of course! Kate is out today and left him all to me" I took a small bite out of the homemade goodness. "Parents off again?" he questioned, I nodded lightly. I miss them so much.

"Well, I've got the perfect job to keep your mind distracted. How about you watch the store today?"

"Alone? Me? Are you sure?" I asked with a mouth full of cookie.

"Yeah, I have a couple of things that need my urge attention. I wasn't going to open today but I think you're ready for this. What do you say? You can even bring Lucky inside if you want" Sam smiled proudly. I thought about it for a moment while I finished my morning treat, it can't be that hard, right?

"Sure! I can hold the fort as they say" I replied with a smile, wiping the crumbs from my lips with the back of my hand.

"I'll be back before closing, earlier I can. If you need anything, slip out the back door. I don't need to tell you this, I know" he chuckled, "Bucky will be around if you need anything" he assures me. I guess that's the handy thing about having your store next door to a saloon. "You're starting to sound like Kate!! I'll be fine, I have Lucky! What's the worst that could happen?" I raised a brow.

"Right" my boss smirked, "well you already know where the stock deliveries are, and you know your main duties. Just don't leave the store unattended" he reminds me, I playfully rolled my eyes at him as he stepped away from the counter. "Stop stressing, Sam, the store will be fine. Go do what it is that you need to do" I hoped the door, patting my thigh for Lucky to enter.

Mr Wilson left as Lucky made himself welcome in the store, I closed the door and treated Lucky to his own biscuit before starting to restock the shelves.

——

"Good afternoon, Y/n!" A familiar voice sings louder than the bell as the door fly’s open. "Peter! How are you?" I smiled softly as I was greeted with a smile of his own. "Oh you know how it is, busy busy!" He chuckles, "I ran into Mr Wilson earlier, he mentioned you were here alone today so I thought I'd come by and see if you, uh, needed anything" he adds. A hint of red fills his cheeks while his eyes struggle to stay connected to mine.

It's no secret that young Peter Parker has a crush on me, the entire town knows it. Although he is a very sweet young gentleman, I guess I've just never found myself interested in him in a romantic manner. In fact, I've never really thought about anybody in a romantic manner now to think of it…

"You're very sweet, Peter. Thank you but things are pretty good. I've had no troubles today and please, thank your Aunt May for the cookies and Lucky's treats!"

"Oh, you're welcome! You know Aunt May, always baking" Peter chuckles once more. I could sense a hint of nerves in his voice and the redness in his cheeks grew deeper. "Peter, is everything okay? Do you need a drink? Some water?" I asked with a concerned frown. "No, no. I'm more than fine, thank you. It's just, it's getting a bit wild out there and I thought I'd walk you home later when you're finished here. Don't want you getting sick or anything" he gives me another soft smile.

"It's meant to rain?" My frown only grew bigger as I looked out the window. Dark gray skys covered the town and beyond, distant flashes of lighting lit up the darkness for a moment. Wind blew the dry leafs onto the Main Street, horses stomped their hoofs with every crack of thunder that could be heard from the far, far distance.

"Well shoot!" I sighed.

"Did Mr Wilson tell you when he'd be back?" Peter asked.

"Sure hope it is soon, I have the animals I should move into the barn before the storm arrives"

"It doesn't seem like it is far off. Maybe I could watch the store for you? I wouldn't mind at all"

"You're very kind, Peter but I'm not sure if Mr Wilson would appreciate me leaving the store in somebody else's hands. I know you wouldn't ruin the place or steal from him but he is trusting me today and I don't want him to think otherwise" I explained as I watched the dark clouds darken, it'll be a big storm by the looks.

"I'd be more than happy to make sure your stock is in the barn then" he offered, I turned to him and kindly shook my head. "I'm sure Mr Wilson will be back soon. Thank you again Peter, you're very kind. If you don't mind, there's a few things I should really get done before Mr Wilson returns" I smiled softly, hoping not to have hurt the boy's feelings.

"I plan on having supper at the Saloon, if you need me, I'll be there" Peter smiles before leaving the store.

For the rest of the afternoon, I cleaned the store and did some stock take and made sure the store was exactly how Mr Wilson would like to have it when he returns and just my luck, he returns before the storm hammers down.

"Y/n, thank you for all your help today!" He walks into the store, placing his hat on the coat rack. He looked rather dirty; a nice bath would be in order for when he gets home if I didn't know better.

"You're welcome, Mr Wilson! I'm sorry to leave in a rush but I really need to be getting home before the rain starts" I grabbed my things, Lucky following closely behind me.

"Of course, you best be safe now"

I rushed out of the store, glad the rain hadn't started pouring down as yet but it was coming. You could smell it, the thunder got louder, the lighting got closer and the wind got stronger. The main street was quiet as people already began to make their way indoors until the storm pushed over.

"Come on, Lucky! We haven't got much time!" I patted my thigh lightly before Lucky and I began to race home.

——

The rain soaked the dry ground as expected and Lucky and I were able to get the animals into the barn before it came down heavy. I left a lantern in the barn just so I could keep an eye on it from the house, Kate hates when I do that, says it's a waste of resources but she'll thank me one day for it.

"How long do you think she'll be this time Lucky?" I looked towards him as we both rested by the fire. He tilts his head at me as if he truly understands what I am saying. We listen to the rain dance on the roof and wind whistle outside while the fire cracks and keeps us warm. It's nights like this that I wish Kate wouldn't go off hunting, it's most lonely at night. But I know we need the money, just until mother and father come home.

"Come Lucky, let's check the barn" I stood up from my mothers rocking chair, and wandered over to the window. A frown creeps upon my brows when I notice the lantern, I left behind earlier in the night was gone. I rushed to my room and grabbed the rifle under my bed, grabbed my father's thick coat, a lantern and headed for the backdoor with Lucky right beside me. It was only a short walk from the house to the barn, but the rain was quick to soak me in its gift to the ranchers. Slowly, I pushed the large wooden door open, my rifle tightly in my grip. Lucky entered first, sniffing the ground for anything that didn't belong while I slowly followed behind him, one foot after another.

Only a few steps in and I saw the lantern I had left behind, in the corner where Kate's horse would've been stabled. "Come out! I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it!" I called out, keeping my distance. Lucky walked quickly over to the empty stable slot, growling. "I said come out!" I repeated.

"Don't shoot" a thick Russian accent came from the corner of the barn, "I won't hurt you, just call off the dog, please" the unknown voice added.

"How can I trust you? You're a stranger in my barn! I have every right to shoot you"

"Trust me, if I were here to harm you, you'd already be dead"

I took a few small steps closer to them, Lucky stood his ground and continued to growl. I wasn't going to tell him to back off just yet. "What are you doing here? Do you always just welcome yourself into other people's properties like this?" I asked.

"You ask too many questions" the voice replied, "call the dog off, please" they asked once more.

"Lucky, back!" I called once I laid my eyes on the intruder. A young woman, maybe no older than me. Blonde hair that was braided and she certainly didn't seem to dress how most women dress. Beside her was her gun belt and holster, her hat placed freely beside them. The woman was covered in blood, her right hand pressed tightly against her left shoulder. "You're hurt" you spoke softly while keeping my rifle pointed at her.

She chewed her bottom lip and nodded, "I'll be gone by morning, I just need a place to stay for the night"

"How can I trust your word?" I asked. The woman smirked like I had just made a joke, an odd joke if my question was funny to her.

"I know better than to kill a rich small-town girl" she replies causing me to frown at her words.

"I am not rich girl. So, if you planned on robbing me later, you would find nothing, I can assure you of that"

She chuckled, "well, maybe not rich but you are well off than others. Besides, I have no interest in robbing homesteads"

"You know nothing about me" I snapped, pointing my rifle at her a little higher, aiming for her head. "Get off my property!" I demanded. Lucky growled once more, showing the unknown intruder his sharp canine teeth.

"Maybe we could come to a deal. It seems money is a touchy subject to you, yes?" The blonde hissed in pain when she moved her right hand even the slightest inch. I didn't reply, my eyes were drawn to the amount of blood her hand was covered in. "I'll pay you" she spoke, gaining my attention once more, "$5 a day. If you help me. I'll give you the first three days right now if I could move my hand but as you can see, if I do that, I will bleed out" she offers.

"Once I have recovered you will never see of me again, I give you my word" she adds. $5 a day would really help Kate and I and by the looks of her wound, she could be here for weeks. "I know you're thinking about it but I do not have time for you to think" her thick Russian accent brings me out of my thoughts, I nodded as I slowly lowered my rifle.

"We best get you to the house then"

----

"I'm sorry if that hurt" I spoke softly to the blonde as I bandaged her up, after pulling the bullet from her wound and cleaning the area with alcohol, she suggested cauterizing the wound with a lit candle. The smell of burning flesh is something I will never forget. "Don't stress, I've experienced worse" she looked to me with a soft smile.

"How did this happen anyway?" I asked as I started to clean up the mess. I offered the woman my room until she was back on her feet, and I hoped Kate wouldn't have noticed when she came home.

"Just a little miss understanding with an outlaw. I'm a bounty hunter" she informs me.

"A bounty hunter? That's a little strange for a woman to be doing"

"Well, sometimes women just do a job better"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's not often I meet women who aren't following the rules of society" My eyes dropped, I knew my comment offended her.

"You should travel more; you'd be surprised on what or whom you might come across. What's your name?" She pulled the covers up over her, making herself comfortable on my bed.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine" I looked to her once more. She chuckled, "I'm Yelena, Yelena Belova. Your turn" she replies. I walked towards the bedroom door, my hands full of rubbish from cleaning her wound, "I'm Y/n, Y/n Bishop. I'll get you some water"

"Bishop" Yelena repeated, "your father is Derek Bishop?" she questioned. I nodded slowly, "you know him?" I asked. Yelena shook her head, "no, just heard of him in passing. Water would be great, thank you" she watched as I walked out of the room. Her tone made me question if she was telling the truth; did she know my father? Maybe she knew where my parents were?

Lucky followed me to the kitchen, I grabbed two cups of water and returned to my bedroom, placing one glass on the wooden beside table next to my lantern. "You should get some rest; I'll make breakfast in the morning" I looked to Yelena who reached for her coat that sat at the end of the bed. "As promised, the first three days" she says before handing me $15 dollars in 1 ten-dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill.

"T-thank you" I smiled softly, "do you like coffee? I could make some in the morning" I asked.

"Never start the day without one" she smiled, "goodnight, Y/n" she added.

"Goodnight" I walked towards the door, "oh, I hope you don't mind" I turned to face the blonde stranger once more, "I'm going to lock the door, you know…for safety" I added nervously.

"I thought you would. I understand, I need to gain your trust" she nodded slightly.

"If you need anything, just call out. I won't be far"

"Thank you, again" Yelena smiled once more before I closed the door, making sure it was locked before making my way to Kate's room.

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's link at the top of this post.

#fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #Kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #forbiddenau

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 month

Text

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Chapter 2- Explanations

Series masterlist

Warnings: daddy issues, drinking, readers more empathic than I’ll ever be, some angst, this is long so grab ur popcorn!

Summary- you finally listen to your boyfriend’s explanation of why what happened, happened. You feel for him, understand his actions. you begin to realize it’s him or your brother.

You glanced at your phone screen and back at your dad on the couch. Was it a good idea leaving him right now? He sat there, switching through the tv channels, mumbling to himself.

He had been drowning himself in his beer ever since Jj came. He hasn’t come back since, you haven’t seen him or heard from him since you dropped him off at his friends house after he had begged to be.

He shouted angrily at you, threw things, and yet it was always you taking care of him at the end of the day.

It was always you tucking him into bed like he was a fucking kid.

“coming in a second,” You typed back. Rafe had been begging for you to come over so he could explain- even going as far as to coming to the house, while you weren’t there.

“Hey, dad, I’m gonna go out for a bit. You gonna be okay?” You asked him, looking up from your phone.

“Where you goin’?”

“My boyfriends.”

“Was that the uh…” he took a sip, pausing before speaking. “Boy that came the other day?”

“Yeah. Rafe.”

“Rafe? Like Rafe Cameron? You,” he laughed as if if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Y/n Maybank, who is 19 and still living with her dad, are dating a kook from figure 8?”

“Yes, dad. Not everything’s about money. Are you gonna be okay here?”

He shook his head to himself, before standing up, slamming his fist onto the table next to him. You flinched at the sound.

“I’m not a fucking kid, y/n. You don’t have to watch over me like I am.”

“Your PO-“ you tried. His mood had changed drastically.

“I don’t give a shit about what my PO says.” He interrupted, downing the rest of his drink and throwing it onto the ground, shattering underneath him.

Your lip trembled as you looked at him. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m gonna…” you took a deep breath, standing up. “I’m gonna go, dad. Be careful.” You mumbled to him, slamming the door and starting your car.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket, you sent him “on my way”

༶•┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

“Hey, wheezie. Where’s your brother?” You asked her when she opened the door.

“Hi, y/n. He’s in his room. He’s in one of his moods. You okay?” She asked, noticing your state. Your eyes were red and your face was puffy, you reeked heavily of beer and weed, from your dad.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You told her when she opened the door, and walked to his room. She knocked on his door.

“Go away, wheezie.” He said agitatedly, getting a line ready on his desk.

“Y/n’s here.” She said. You could hear him getting up from the bed, putting things away before he unlocked his door.

“Hi.” He sniffed, looking at you. Wheezie rolled her eyes and left, closing her door.

“Hi.”

He opened up his door and motioned for you to come in. He locked it again and you stood in front of him.

It was silent, the both of you staring at each other. He leaned against his desk now, running a hand through his hair.

“You wanted to explain what happened, so… explain.” You spoke first.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I heard that dad wanted to take Sarah to the Bahamas for some business trip. And what the fuck did Sarah know about business? Nothing. She was running around with the fuckin’…” he stopped his talking for a moment, remembering your brother.

“It doesn’t matter. I was at the tarmac, and I didn’t think… I didn’t think anything like that would happen.”

“Sheriff peterkin told my dad to get on the ground.” He relived the moments in his head, each agonizing moment. “She put a gun to his head and began to arrest him. I couldn’t just.. I couldn’t just watch him get fuckin’ arrested.”

“What was he getting arrested for?” You asked him quietly.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to say.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the tension in the room thick.

“Rafe…” you began.

“I didn’t wanna do it.” He mumbled, his voice a croak now. He held his face in his hands, shakily breathing out.

You walked closer to him, he just looked the other way as you gave him a hug, something he had not expected.

He began to stutter out, but you stopped him.

“Sh, sh, sh. It’s fine. You’re fine.” You told him, he cried onto you, your shirt getting soaked.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, clearing his throat and wiping the tears from his eyes, pulling away from you now.

One thing about rafe is he never cried. At least not in front of people. He hated to feel vulnerable.

“I just wanted him to… I just wanted him to pay attention to me for once, you know?” He pointed to himself. “Everything’s about fuckin’ Sarah, forget me and Wheezie.” He motioned to the door on the other side.

“I get it.” You did get it, knowing exactly how he felt. He felt bad for his actions. You could tell.

“Sorry. Thank you. For…” he sniffled and cleared his throat again. “For listening.”

“Yeah.”

“How’ve you been…?” He asked, not having seen you in a little.

“I’ve been… okay. I guess. Jj hasn’t come back since he stole the boat, but then he got in trouble with the sbi for helping his friend escape or something, then the phantom drowned and shit.”

“So… that was fun explaining to my dad.” You took a deep breath. He’s been… angrier since then. Feel like it’s my fault, kind of.”

“It’s not your fault.” He quickly spoke, a frown on his face as he listened.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He picked up a cup from his desk, offering it to you.

You shook your head and a small smile on your face. “I think you need it more than me.”

“Shit, I think we both need it.” He chuckled, pouring the liquid down his throat and putting it down onto the table.

“You can stay here. If you want.” He offered once it became silent.

“Oh. No. It’s- I don’t have any clothes or anything, so… I wouldn’t wanna interrupt…”

“Just borrow some of mine. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have offered it. You should go take a shower.” He told you.

“Yeah.” You glanced down at yourself. He went to his closet, grabbed a towel and rummaged through his drawers for clothes.

You stood behind him, he handed you a stack of his clothes and you gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, rafe.”

“Of course.” Was all he said, he directed you to where the bathroom was and you entered it.

Jesus Christ, this bathroom is fucking huge. You thought, looking around. How the hell did this shower even work?

You turned on the shower, getting rid of your clothes and letting the droplets fall onto your skin with a sigh.

Once you got out, you changed into his clothes. Leaving the bathroom, you grabbed your stuff and dried off your hair when someone walked by.

Ward.

He looked at you, stopping for a moment.

“Who are you?”

“Hi, sir. Sorry.” You quickly turned to him. You told him your name and held out your hand for him to shake.

Rafe came out from his room, his eyes landing on the both of you.

“She’s my uh… my girlfriend. She’s staying the night.” He swallowed. Hesitating because he wasn’t sure how his dad would react.

Ward furrowed his eyebrows at that.

“Nice to meet you.” He said, giving you a small nod and smile.

Ward eyed Rafe, who just rolled his eyes at his dad and led you back into his room.

“Sorry. About him.”

“It’s fine.”

“I guess I should tell you… I have to go to uh… peterkins funeral tomorrow. I don’t know if you wanna go or…” he took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay..?”

“I’ll go.”

“Okay.” He nodded. Inside, he was just glad to have some sort of emotional support there. Knowing his dad wouldn’t be helpful.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The drive to the funeral was silent. You greeted and introduced yourself to Rose, who seemed to like you a bit more than Ward did.

You noticed Rafe’s distant eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder and just leaning against him was enough to ground him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I should really get going.” You mumbled, his lips were on your neck and you were laying against the bed.

“Why?” He mumbled against your skin, his hands wrapped around you.

“My dad. I can’t leave him alone this long.”

He nodded. “Right. Right. Of course. Sorry.” He said, running a hand through his hair, getting off you.

“Thank you for letting me stay again.”

“Text me anytime you need to, okay?”

You nodded, standing up and gathering your clothes now.

He stood up too, leading you downstairs and to the door. He cupped your face, smashing his lips against yours before you left, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When you began to drove home, you noticed two familiar figures.

“Okay, I’m not sure, but I think they can see us from there.”

“Who cares? Should be glad I’m not setting the house on fire.” Kiara replied, turning to Pope and continuing her movements.

“Can you hurry up?”

“Look, doesn’t it piss you off? Even a little?!”

“Of course it pisses me off: I’m just-“ he paused. “I’m just trying to channel my rage into different vectors right now.”

“Oh, okay.” She stepped back, looking at her work she had done on the wall. “Not bad.”

“Hey, I think somebody’s up there.” Pope said, looking over the wall.

“Shit. It’s Rafe.”

“Look, we know what you did!” Kiara shouted to him.

“Hey, no.” He covered her mouth and began to pull her away.

“Murderers!”

“No, now is not the time. Are you serious?” They began to run when you pulled up to them.

“Kiara? Pope?”

“Y/n?” They both said in unison.

“What the hell are you two doing?” You motioned to the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Pope asked you.

They both hopped into your car without you saying anything.

“Oh, great, yeah, just hop into my fucking car why don’t you? I’m not a damn Uber.”

“Can you please just drive us somewhere?” Pope asked.

You sighed and shook your head to yourself.

“No. I can’t. I gotta go back home.”

“Please, y/n?”

Fuck. Being pulled into their stupid shit, again. You groaned, and began to drive to where they told you to.

Once you got there, they both thanked you multiple times and hopped in their boat.

“Hey, do you know where Jj is?” You shouted.

“He got a new job. That one place on figure eight, island sun.”

“Thank you.” You told them. Your dad would be fine for a few more minutes, you thought. But you had to figure out something with Jj, at least check up on him.

So, you put it into your phone and began driving to the restaurant.

You walked in on Jj having some sort of speech. You stood, frozen in your spot.

“My best friend, John B, did not kill Sheriff Peterkin! Rafe Cameron killed and shot the sheriff in cold blood!”

You swallowed as you listened. He wasn’t wrong. And that was the worst part.

He wasn’t wrong and yet you still felt for Rafe, you understood what he was going through and what he thought.

But he was still a murderer. A murderer who helped you in your darkest times, a murderer who you met while doing some stupid job as a teenager.

How was he going to react when he realized you’ve been dating him for months?

Kelce scoffed.

“That’s what happened.”

“Is that so hard to believe, Kelc?”

“It is actually hard for me to believe, because you know, it’s always…” he stood up from his chair. “The kooks fault. It’s never the pogues fault.”

Jesus Christ, this stupid shit. It was stupid, the whole pogues vs kooks thing. You never understood or cared for it.

Jj poured water onto Kelce, and Kelce threw his hands at Jj.

You stepped in now, grabbing Jj and pulling him away while Topper grabbed Kelce.

“Get off me!” He shoved you, the two broke up finally.

“It’s not the time, man.”

“Jj.” His boss called.

“Yeah, I know Raz. I’m fired.” He threw off his apron, you followed behind Jj, grabbing his shoulder.

“What the fuck was that?!” You asked him. He whipped around to meet your eyes.

“I cant stand there and fuckin’ listen to their bullshit! That’s my fucking friend they’re talking about, y/n. That’s my friend.” He motioned to them.

“I get it, J. I do, but you can’t keep doing this. You’re already on probation-“

“I don’t care, y/n. I don’t care anymore.” He hopped on his dirt bike. You called his name, he drove straight into the flowers, destroying it.

“Jj- please!” You shouted, he just drove off, flicking them off.

He sounded just like your dad.

————

Tag list:

@cassie0sstuff

@rafesgiirl

#rafe fluff #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #obx rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #maybanks sister #jj maybank x sister reader

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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

Text

Lookism Boys (+ Taehoon + Wangguk) being ill + YOU looking after them hc

Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, Vin Jin, Johan Seong, Seong Taehoon, Han Wangguk

Gun Park

He is self-sufficient to the core.

Does not need any looking after.

You offer to run out and buy medicine? No need, he is stocked better than a pharmacy.

Reminders to hydrate? He's had 2 litres already and it's not even midday.

You don't need to tell him to rest, his body is his temple and he takes the utmost care.

Some homemade food though? Oh. Well. You can't buy homemade.

Him lying all fever brained on your lap as you watch TV or whatever? That's not so bad neither.

You running a bath for him? Thanks. That's thoughtful.

Huh, he thinks maybe it's not so bad relying on someone other than himself.

Goo Kim

Clingy and fussy-

But you knew that already, being his partner.

Treats you as his hot water bottle one moment, the next will kick you away saying he's too warm.

He expects to be babied, and he expects your full attention. So please drop everything and tend to him now.

If you could also run your fingers through his hair and let him lie on you for the next few hours, that would also be great.

And if you can put his favourite show on that would also be appreciated.

You trying to watch something else once he's sleeping? No chance. He is wide awake and pouting at you.

At least he will give you the same treatment when you're ill.

Samuel Seo

Samuel is not ill.

How dare you imply he is in anything but peak physical condition

That's not a cough, that's not a sniffle, and he is not flushed.

There's something wrong with the thermometer, he is fine.

Nothing is wrong with his voice (as he slowly loses it through the day...)

Will take a lot of persuading and convincing to rest up

"Yes, there will be other people to pick up your work. And no, it's not a personal slight to say that you are sick."

You have to pry his laptop and tablet and phone from his fingers.

Of course, that's easy. His strength is waning in his current state.

"Shhh Sammy, go to bed." Tuck him in. lay next to him, pet his hair.

He'll soon be napping next to you, holding you tight.

Jake Kim

Also complete denial at first.

He is the head of Big Deal, he cannot be sick.

That SINU! sneeze is not a front. That is actually how he sneezes.

Phelgm and snot everywhere. It's pretty repulsive to be honest.

After one too many sneezes, and everyone flinching the hell away from him, Jerry carries him home to you.

Wants to be babied, wants to be fussed, wants your complete attention.

Goes about it in a slightly less obnoxious way, but he's so adorable, even trying to give you a wink in his current state so you can't say no.

Pads around the home following you, blanket wrapped around him, tissue shoved up his nose.

Might as well give up whatever you're doing and tend to your boyfriend.

But Jake would absolutely do the same for you.

Vin Jin

This fucking guy-

Demanding and a little shit.

If you let him, he would take absolute full advantage.

Would run you in circles doing things for him.

"Y/N I want some water, Y/N where's my medicine, Y/N I need some chocolate, Y/N I need a burger." "What?? Shouldn't you eat something.. healthier?" "No babe, the body wants what it wants."

Will flop all over you, lying on your lap, your chest. Partly because he finds you comforting, partly because he's a little asshole.

"Sing me a lullaby" "Uh... ok." You sing. "Actually, no shut up babe you sound like shit."

Once he falls asleep, his breath laboured and cheeks flushed, you can't help but think ok, he's pretty cute. Only when unconscious though.

Will still keep his sunglasses on the whole time. "Just in case someone ambushes me." "WHO?!"

Johan Seong

Way too ill and low in energy to put up any of his usual defenses. Will revert back to a little meow meow.

You are absolutely not allowed out of sight.

In fact, you are not allowed out of arm's reach.

Will cling to you like a koala, that is a fact.

Actually, you might as well all stay in bed, Eden and Miro included because you are guaranteed to not get anything done.

Even cooking is only a possibility. Hopefully you have all medicine stocked, and some decent, cheap, healthy take-outs nearby.

Because if Johan wakes up from his nap and you're not there, he will be sulking for a year straight.

The only excuse?

"Johan, I need to walk Eden and Miro." grumble grumble "Ok... but be back quick?"

Seong Taehoon

The grumpiest babygirl you have ever seen.

It's a goddamn good job you love him because my god, this guy!

Equal parts bad-tempered and clingy

A bit like how he usually is, to be honest, but turned up to the MAX.

Go away, you're crowding him one second, he's all up in your face wanting cuddles the next.

And the fact that he's not allowed to train?

Good lord, don't anger it further. It's not like he's in any fit state to train anyway but he will still be fuming about it.

No Taekwondo, no arcade. He might as well just DIE.

At least he's still got his other favourite thing - you. This placates him a little.

Han Wangguk

Wangguk does not get sick, Wangguk is the caretaker.

Other people get ill and he looks after them.

"No, seriously, Wangguk. You're burning up. Go back to bed!"

Needs a lot of goading to actually rest. Even then, he doesn't fully rest.

He keeps a watchful eye over you, just in case you need him.

After he gets used to it? Absolutely loves it.

You making some food for him, grabbing him medicine, gentle cuddles, forehead smooches, even taking care of Gyeoul?!

He really could get used to this.

Is a puddle, constantly leaning on you and wanting to be close.

After this, he always enjoys being ill. Only a tad. It's a way for him to be spoilt guilt-free by you.

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bensoloslover · 3 months

Text

Stolen Moment

Kylo Ren x Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 1,771.

Warning: Suggested Nuidty, Mild Kidnappings, Nothing Crazy.

*Reader and Kylo have a establsihed realtionship. Reader is kidnapepd and has a small meeting with an old friend.

Masterlsit

“Ky” Her voice felt shy as she spoke, which was contrasting to the normally warm and easy going personality she carried that he loved so much.

“Yes, (Y/N/N)?” She was laid on his chest, (Y/H/C) down for once and body nearly bare against his. They spent many nights like this. Ever since their days learning under his uncle, how he hated that many for everything, but her. He would thank him for the chance of meeting her.

“Does something feel…” the pause had the hair on his arms sticking up. “Out of place to you? Like something is going to happen? Something almost strange feeling?” She looked up at him now, eyes showing a fear he wished she didn't have to endure.

(Y/N) was force sensitive, in her own way. She had a harder time connecting with the physical side of things, but her connection to the force itself? He envied it. It spoke to her in ways that sounded almost surreal, even to a powerful force user like himself. Where he could bend the force to his will, move through peoples mind, bend will. She could get into the soul of the universe, tell stories of things that haven't even happened yet. Understand the world in a way one could only dream.

“I can have the Knights stand guard of you tomorrow, and you may even shadow me throughout the day if you’d like?” They had been at war with the rebellion for sometime now. He knew she had no interest in the fight, she’d made that very clear, but he knew she'd feel safer by his side as he went about his day then to be apart with these feelings.

“I don't know yet if it's that serious, I can't really get a grasp on what is going to happen. Just. Something.” She laid back down to his chest.

“Well maybe some sleep will clear your vision, after you meditate tomorrow morning come find me and we can spend the morning tomorrow. I only have a few meetings before training.” She hummed her reply, he knew she was in agreement, she came to find him almost every morning once she'd gotten through her routines.

“Goodnight my love.” Her voice was more velvety now, he knew she'd sleep soon, and he'd have the knights guard her till she woke.

—

When Kylo woke up his morning went as usual. Tuck (Y/N) back to bed, shower and change into his usual attire, meditate for a few minutes in his study, head to the bridge to meet Hux and start his day. Nothing seemed off yet. Rebels were still out of their reach currently, so nothing but trying to track them down was really important at the moment. Rey and his mother had been blocking any trace of them from him for weeks now.

They're here. They're on the ship, Ky.

He heard it loud and clear, his body running frigid at the panic in her tone. He could always feel her, she was like a constant warm aura around him, no matter the distance, and suddenly everything had run cold.

“Man the ships, all gun up. The rebels are on the ship.” He heard Hux start shouting commands as stormtroopers left and right started marching in groups around the ship in an instant. He ran down the halls as he made his way back to their living quarters. How they had even gotten on the ship he couldn't phantom.

Kylo Help. The Jedi. She’s here.

For the second time that day dread filled his core. Not her. Not now..

I’m on my way (Y/N)

His footsteps sped up, he was running now, sliding through turns and ripping the doors open with the force as he attempted to reach their quarters. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He got on the elevator to their floor, pacing the small room when it happened.

He felt nothing. For the first time since the first movements they met, he felt nothing of her presence. The elevator started to creak and groan as the force around him began to swell with his anger.

As the doors exploded open he ran down the hall. The knights he left to protect her laid on the ground, leading up to the room. He blew the doors straight through to the back wall tearing off his helmet as he looked for the worst imaginable. Their bed was made. A still hot cup of tea sat by her meditation seat in their living room. The breakfast cart still set up neatly by the dining room table, untouched.

But (Y/N)? Nowhere to be found. He ripped through every room twice. Then he broke. He felt his anger explode through the room. Felt the ship tremble as he screamed and slammed his helmet into every thing within arms reach.

They’d taken the one person on the ship he would break without, and they knew it.

—

(Y/N) remembered waking in a cold sweat. She remembered trying to get her morning started as normal.She remembered the fighting outside that broke her from her meditation. The rebels burst into her room. Her fear as she begged Kylo for help, though for the first time she couldn't feel if he was answering her or not. The silence. Cold.

Now she was here, wherever that was exactly. She couldn't feel Kylo. She couldn't remember how she had ended up. There was nothing in the room around her and there was no way she could escape the ropes bounding her to the chair she was in.

“You’ve grown into a marvelous young woman, (Y/N).” Chills ran up her neck. She could pick that voice in a chorus of millions.

“Mrs. Solo.” She felt it now, the force moving back through her. Her mother in law’s presence. Leia had always been warm, her aura like a blanket to whoever could feel it. She was strong, and easy to be around. She emerged from the shadows, pulling a chair with her to sit across from (Y/N).

“Oh no, we never married.” Her chuckle reminded her of her years at the Jedi Temple, she could never dislike Leia, no matter how much Kylo resented his mother, she was always a kind soul. “I'm still Organa, or Skywalker if you please, darling. Only Ben carries Han’s name.”

“Ben goes by Kylo Ren now.” Leia rolled her eyes at the announcement. As if she had just been told her son just broke another plate.

“Ah yes, Kylo Ren. I find it funny he chose a name that rhymes with Ben. Since he clearly hated the name so much.” She sipped on a cup of warm tea while speaking. “How is he?”

Her question was genuine, (Y/N) could feel it. She could feel him again, suddenly. Hot. Red hot with anger. Then he was gone, as quick as he was there. Cold again. She knew it had something to do with Leia and Rey, her lack of his connection with him. They were good at blocking him out, keeping their rebels safe at all cost.

“He’s quite angry right now.” She felt the ropes drop from her arms. The force.

“You just gave him my location, you do know that.” (Y/N) rolled her shoulders back. Neck cracking from the uncomfortable position she had been held in.

“I'd rather him come get you. You're more of a hazard to keep around, he’d mount every one of my soldiers head’s on his saber before he let a single hair on your head be harmed.” Leia chuckled. She knew her son had fancied (Y/N) since the day she dropped him off with Luke. She was beautiful. “I told them not to take you originally. These youths are far too ambitious though, not listening to their elders.”

“Am I a mother in law yet, or has he not made you empress of the new empire yet?” This time it was (Y/N)’s turn to laugh, she looked at the black kyber crystal on her ring finger.

“Engaged, not yet married. Said he'd like to have squashed out your rebales before we sat down to plan our future.” She held up her hand to show her the ring, Leia taking it into her own.

“What a beautiful kyber crystal, he must have looked far and wide for such a rare color.” She turned her hand to watch it sparkle.

“General Leia” a voice spoke up from behind the two. A man with curly brown hair and a warm complexion walked into (Y/N)’s eyeline. He was nervous, she could feel it. He looked at her then back to Leia, a allure of confidence she knew he didn't possess in his voice. “Everyone is either up in the air ready to go or on their way. Just us left.”

“I'll be ready in one moment Poe, let me have one more moment with my daughter.” (Y/N)’s heart warmed at the title. She knew Leia didn't agree with Kylo’s ambitions, neither did she honestly, but she knew she'd never be anywhere but his side.

“Tell my son I love him for me. No matter what.” Leia squeezed her hand. “It's time for us to leave before Kylo shish kebabs us. There's tea and some crackers on the table for you dear. I know you'll feel him as soon as we leave so no need to give you a eta I'm sure.”

“Thank you, please be safe.” (Y/N) leaned over and hugged her, taking in the warmth of her hold. She felt like Ben in a way, like mother like son she supposed.

“You too dear.” With that Leia walked out. (Y/N) felt no need to follow her. She heard her spacecraft leave the atmosphere as she sat and took in her empty surroundings. Standing up she walked to the table and took a bite of one of the sweet crackers Leia had left her. Taking her tea out the door.

She felt him then. He filled back into the coldness she felt all morning. Their connection was unblocked. She could tell he was close. She could feel the force around her again.

(Y/N) ? Can you hear me? Are you okay? You're calm. Are the rebels gone?

Yes love, I’m fine.

I’m on my way. I saw your location for a moment. Enough time to find you.

I know. I’m waiting.

She took a sip of her tea and chuckled, banthas milk and some sugar, just like how Ben likes it.

----

Just some Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo brain rot I've been thinking about.

#kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo deserved better #ben solo x reader #ben solo #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Note

could we please get some sweet Gaz fluff/comfort like scientist is too exhausted to shower after a long day so Gaz joins her and cleans her instead, washing her hair, etc while she stands there half asleep

Yes I can! I think this is something that happens often for them.

(Also - not that you’ve offended me or anything - but I’ve been using ‘they’ for the researcher out of inclusivity. That said! If you see researcher/yourself with she/her pronouns, that’s so so valid. I’ll just be a writing using they/them)

They’ve been awake for going on 29? 30? Hours. Too long. Way too long. Gaz couldn’t even pull them away because it was a big project that the brass was putting a lot of pressure on getting down. Final tests are finished now though, and he’s finally able to pry them away from the lab.

He takes them to their room, wishes he could just send them to bed right away. But they’re covered in gun powder, ash, pen ink, metal dust and..,, he shudders to think of what else. But they’ll need to bathe before climbing in. They hate feeling dirty when they wake up.

“Tired,” they groan, leaning into him.

“I know, chickadee. Just this last thing…”

Getting them to their tiny bathroom is its own struggle but they look genuinely miserable about trying to clean themselves up. Gaz scritches a hand through their oily, dirty hair.

“You mind if I help?”

They look up at him with stars in their eyes. “Please do.”

He’s careful and respectful as he strips them down, half holding them up as they lean into him. He gets the water right and carefully guides them in. Lets them get their footing, then strips himself down.

They make grabby hands at him, plaster themselves to his front with a happy little sigh. “Tired,” they mumble again.

“I know, luv,” he replies, “almost down.”

They’re blessedly pliant as he soaps their hair and scrubs them down. Usually showers are a perfunctory thing they do as quickly as possible to get to the next thing - either sleep or more work (or sometimes private time with Gaz). Right now, though, he’s able to take a little extra time to press his thumbs into the tense muscles of their neck, the tired tendons in their clever hands, the exhausted muscles in their lower back.

They make little sleepy noises of appreciation, eyes barely open as they nearly slip off him. Gaz doesn’t even bother with himself. All he’s down the last two days is stand nearby and try to remind them to eat and drink. All the brushing up against him that they’re doing is plenty.

They stir a bit when the water turns off, mumbling his name.

“‘S alright chickadee,” he murmurs, helping them out. “Just gotta get you dried off.”

They hum, rub at their overworked eyes. “You staying?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Mhmm.”

He gently buffers them dry, drops kisses here and there while they sway on their feet. Good enough, he thinks when they start to list to the side.

He tucks them in together, lets them burrow in against his side and wrap their limbs around his.

“Love you, Ky,” the mumble.

His heart skips. “Love you too.”

#asks #my writing #thoughts™️#cod #fanfiction #bodyguard!gaz #kyle gaz garrick #gaz

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

Text

the reason (ii)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff, smut (minors dni)

Summary: You’re the reason why Ghost wakes up in the morning, and you’re why he lets himself dream at night. (a part 2 to the right thing to do)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: use of female body descriptions, explicit language, masturbation, needles/stitches, forced proximity, pining

A/N: hiii, so yes, this is a part two to ‘the right thing to do’ (yayyy). i’m not gonna lie, this chapter was going to be longer, but i decided to cut it so that 1. you guys can get more ghost content faster and 2. you don’t have to read 20k words. as always, likes/reblogs and comments are always appreciated, hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 3

In Ghost’s life, moments of domesticity were rare. Between his turbulent childhood, his initial years during and after the military, and the crippling paranoia being in special forces came with, Ghost could count all the times he had felt that comforting sense of peacefulness; of safety; of not worrying about who was waiting to kill him or who was going to hurt the people he loved; that feeling; that soft, warm, light feeling; he could count all the times he felt it on one hand.

The first time had been when he was a kid — maybe six, maybe seven. Or maybe he was younger, he didn’t know. Everything from back then was blurry. He remembered feeling safe because his brother and his father were gone, and it was just him and his mom. He didn’t know why they were gone, just that they wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. He remembered sitting in front of the fireplace with his mom, eating takeout and listening carefully as she read him a story: Treasure Island. When the book was finished, he remembered dragging his mom to the backyard and begging her to play Long John Silver while he, Jim Hawkins of course, challenged her to a pirate duel.

The second time had been at his nephew’s first birthday. It had been a small party, his brother and his wife, his mother, and him. He had been on leave for a while at that point, tending to family issues but by then, everything was fine. His sister-in-law had tucked his nephew into bed, and the rest of them were sitting outside around a fire drinking cheap beer and reminiscing over the past. He could still remember that warm feeling in his chest, a combination of alcohol and happiness.

And the last time he could remember, the third and final time, was now. It was here, with you by his side and the snow falling around him. It was the warmth of your body against his; the way you fit against him perfectly, like he was made only for you; it was the way you smelled, the way the fragrance of his cheap soap, the one you had made fun of just hours before, mingled and danced with that familiar, smokey smell of guns and bullets; the way you made him feel, light and airy and safe, as if you and him were alone together in a tiny pocket of space where nobody could reach you.

You made him feel safe. You made him feel sleepy. It was odd, because Ghost had never been a stranger to staying awake before. As a child, he spent his fair share of nights hiding under blankets with a book and a flashlight, staying up the entire night reading so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nightmares that plagued his sleep. And if anything, the military had only worsened his sleeping habits. He had gone days — one time a week — without sleep while on the battlefield. He knew how to shake off the tight grip of exhaustion, how to spit in its face and tell it to fuck off so he could keep doing his job. He had done it time and time again in the past, but for some reason in this moment, his ability to do so was escaping him.

It was something about you — it was everything about you — that made it hard for him to stay up. The way he unconsciously synced up his breaths with your steady, even ones; the way the warmth of your body pressed against him rolled off of you in waves, encouraging him to just give in; the way you somehow made him feel so relaxed and peaceful and content, as if you were a long-term mission he had finally accomplished; everything about you made his eyelids droop and his mind hazy.

And it killed him to have to wake you up, to have to be the one to disturb your rest when you looked so happy and satisfied sleeping. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t risk falling asleep when he was supposed to be protecting you. He would be letting you down, and he knew that disappointing you — or worse, getting you killed — would hurt far more than waking you up. So with a heavy heart and a stiff shoulder, he carefully nudged you until you woke up.

You opened your eyes slowly, peeling yourself off of him as you looked around, trying to remember where you were. He watched you bring a hand to your mouth as you let out a yawn, your eyes squinting shut as tears welled up under them. “My turn?” you asked, your voice slightly scratchy.

Ghost swallowed, your voice was definitely doing something to him. “I don’t know,” he said, “you think you’re awake enough to do it?”

You huffed, “Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, letting out a sigh as you cracked your neck. “Give me a second though.” He nodded, watching as you rubbed your hands in front of you, before slapping yourself on the cheeks lightly. “You gonna sleep in here or outside?” you asked, sniffling a little.

He wanted to stay outside with you, but the cold was starting to get to him and he could already feel his back starting to get stiff. “Inside. But I’m showering first,” he said, picking up his bag as he moved to stand up, “and I’m getting your gun. You think I’m gonna let you keep watch unarmed?”

“Don’t bother,” you told him, shaking out your legs as you stood up, “I’ll get it myself.” You followed him into the house, and he could hear you rustling around behind him as he walked into the bathroom. He had forgotten how small the bathroom was, or maybe he was just large. He barely fit between the sink and the door, causing him to have to shuffle awkwardly just to put his bag down.

He let out a sigh as he stared at himself in the mirror, running his hand down his face. Looking in the mirror was always weird for him. In one way, he could look at himself and register that that was Ghost, that was who Ghost was, who he looked like. But Ghost wasn’t the same as Simon, and the face staring back at him? That wasn’t Simon either. He knew Price considered the man under the mask to be Simon, that the mask was what ‘made’ Ghost. But if he was being truthful, he wasn’t really sure if he knew who Simon actually was, if Simon was even still a part of him after all these years, bright-eyed but scared and hidden under the surface.

He looked away, peeling the mask off of his face. He stared at it for a moment before folding it neatly and placing it on the sink. He started taking off the rest of his gear too, his vest, his boots, his belts, the various pockets and holsters he kept clipped to his thighs and the accompanying firearms. He turned on the shower, the pressure was dismal and the water ice cold, before unzipping his jacket, peeling off his undershirt, and stepping out of his pants and boxers.

The water had barely warmed up by the time he got in, sending a shiver down his spine. To make matters worse, the showerhead was much shorter than him, reaching only up to the base of his chin. He winced as a sharp sting of pain shot through him when he tried to crane his neck downwards. He tried reaching for the back of his neck, but the shower was small and maneuvering around was difficult.

His thoughts trailed over to you again. For some reason, it was weird to think that you had been in this same shower just a few hours before. What had you been thinking about then? Had you been thinking about him? Or had you been thinking about the others? If you were thinking about him, what were the specifics? Did you like him or hate him? Want him or not want him? And if you did want him, how did you want him? Did you just want him as a friend or as a trophy? Did you actually want to know him, to be there for him, or was he just an accomplishment for you to boast about, a way to prove you were able to conquer the elusive Ghost?

And what if you wanted him as more than a friend? What if you wanted him the same way he wanted you? With him towering over you, his fingers working miracles inside your wet cunt or with you pressed against him as he thrust into you over and over and over again. Maybe you wanted him to push you down flat against a table and whisper dirty things into your ear as he pulled you back on his cock, or maybe you wanted to push him down on a bed and ride him until your legs gave out and he had to take over for you.

Shit, he thought as his cock began to twitch, but he couldn’t stop himself. His mind kept coming up with new images, new scenarios that only stoked the fire growing in his core. You on your knees, your lips swollen and red and wrapped oh so tightly around him; you sitting on his face, your thighs clenching around his head and your hands gripping on for dear life as you came into his mouth; you tied up to a bed while he held a vibrator to your clit as you whined and wiggled and begged as orgasm after orgasm racked your body.

Fuck. This wasn’t right for him to be thinking of you like this. He was your boss for fuck’s sake, your coworker, your teammate. It wasn’t fair to you for him to be thinking of you this way, not when you were just a few yards away. But god damn it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this hard, so hard it was on the verge of hurting and it would be so easy to just get rid of his stupid erection, all he needed was a few minutes. That was all it would take, and besides, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right? He stifled a groan, using one hand to ease himself onto a wall as the other finally wrapped around his cock.

He shuddered at the touch, staying still for a moment before he started moving his hand. It had been a considerable time since he had touched himself; so long, in fact, that he really couldn’t remember the last time he had. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to imagine it was your hand wrapped around him instead of his. He knew how it would feel too. Somehow, despite all your time in the military, your hands were still butter smooth and pillow soft.

He let his mind continue to fill with dirty thoughts of you as his hand stroked his shaft, letting his head fall back against the wall. He swallowed down a groan as he brushed his thumb over his tip, spreading his precum along his erection. He tried to pretend it was your smooth hand rubbing along his dick instead of his own rough one, letting his mouth hang open as his hand slid along his cock at a steady pace.

He threw his head back against the wall, letting the pleasure wash over him in waves as the fire in the pit of his stomach grew. He could feel his breaths shallow as his hand moved faster along his cock. He snaked another hand down to cup his balls, shuddering at the touch, while his other hand moved to focus on the head of his penis. It wasn’t long until he could feel his balls start to tighten and his cock start to throb. He closed his eyes as he let the pleasure dictate his movements. He focused his attention to his tip, stifling a moan as he finally came onto the tiled wall. He tried to ride out the high for as long as he could, shutting his eyes as he felt his cock start to soften.

He opened his eyes, watching as his cum began to drip down the tile. Shit. Had he really just done that? He could feel the shame bubbling up on his stomach already. God, he was your boss, you trusted him, and he took that trust and spat in its face. He rubbed one of his hands down his face, leaning the other against the shower wall as he considered the weight of what he had just done. He had violated you, and for what? A few seconds of relief? Cupping his hands, he gathered up the cold shower water and splashed it against his face, his eyes falling to stare at the cum-stained wall, a glaring reminder of his wrongdoings.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself as he washed it off, desperate to get rid of the sight of it. He took one last look at the area, forever tainted by the knowledge of what he did, before reaching for the soap. He felt dirty, dirtier than before, and suddenly he was desperate to clean himself.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, he turned his attention to the rest of his body, grabbing the soap you had left behind and lathering it up in his hands. Washing his body was awkward in the small space, but not completely impossible. He tried bending down again, and this time he was relatively successful. It was painful, considering he probably had a nasty cut on his back and he was essentially hunched over at a forty-five degree angle, but he was able to get his hair wet enough to wash it which was all that mattered.

He finished up his shower, wrapping the towel around his waist as he shook his hair dry. The cabin was much colder without his clothes to keep him warm, but that was the least of his problems. Gracelessly, he turned to examine his back in the mirror, pursing his lips as he saw the nasty scratch just below the base of his neck. He wasn’t surprised at its presence, after all he had felt a bullet graze past him while they were being shot at, but he didn’t realize the extent of the damage. He had assumed it was just a small injury, a minor scratch he could sleep off, but the wound in the mirror was longer than he thought.

He sighed as he reached for his first aid pack, pulling the suture kit out. He turned to the mirror again, trying to get a better look at the scratch. He turned his attention back to the kit, squinting hard as he tried to get a good grip on the needle. Once he was finally able to, he stood up to look in the mirror again, trying to twist around to get a good angle, but it was no use. Ghost threw the needle down onto the sink, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He knew he should have asked you for help, but he knew the stitches would take a while and he just wanted to sleep.

He put his cargo pants and undershirt back on, ignoring the sting from his back as he grabbed his equipment before tugging on his balaclava once more and exiting the bathroom. The cabin seemed emptier without your presence filling it up with thick tension. He tried to take a deep breath but was interrupted by the stinging pain from his back. He exhaled, clenching his jaw as he bent over to grab his bedroll from his pack.

The sound of creaking behind him caused his head to shoot up, his hand curling around the handle of a small pocket knife he kept in his bag. He swiveled around to see you, your hands in the air with one of them clenched around your blanket. “Woah there, Ghost,” you said jokingly, “I come in peace. You alright?”

He relaxed a little, before remembering what he had done in the shower and stiffening again. “‘M fine. What are you doing here?” he asked, wondering if you had somehow heard him.

You lifted your blanket, “Figured I’d give this to you, that way you can sleep on the bed instead of the floor.”

He eyed you warily, before reaching it out and grabbing it from your hands. “You sure you don’t need it?”

You nodded, your eyes wide and encouraging as you watched him ball it up in his hands. He gave you one last look before turning around to the bedroom, content to call it a day when he heard you gasp. He looked around to see you, one hand over your mouth and the other pointing at him.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his stomach dropping with worry. Did he somehow leave something behind that exposed what he had done in the shower? Fuck. He never would have forgiven himself if this ruined your relationship. He would have to leave the task force, that was for sure, he wouldn’t be able to see you without knowing what he had done, what he had messed up, what could have been.

You stared at him like he was crazy. “Ghost,” you said, your voice laced with disbelief and something else, concern? “Your shirt… There’s blood on it.”

He groaned, partially in annoyance and partially out of relief. Of course his cut started bleeding now. “Oh, that?” he said, feigning ignorance, “it’s nothing, just got clipped back in the forest. It’ll be fine.”

You stared at him, your mouth gaping open. “That is not fine,” you said, “do you see how much blood there is? That needs stitches. Get over here, I’ll sew you up.”

“It’s—”

“No excuses,” you said sternly, silencing the words in his throat. “Sit,” you insisted, pulling a chair from the table.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, but he sat down in the chair nonetheless. “Off,” you said, moving behind him and tugging at his now bloody shirt.

He stilled, his heart skipping a beat. He knew you were just saying it to get access to his wound, but still, it wasn’t like he had ever actually undressed in front of you. “You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for all this ‘stitches’ business,” he said, trying to hide how nervous he was.

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically, and he could practically hear you rolling your eyes from behind him. Was that a good sign? Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t tell.

“Just saying,” he said, before lifting the shirt off his body, being careful to not lift his mask in the process. He could hear you suck in a breath as your eyes scanned over his back. He suddenly felt incredibly self conscious as you stared at him; he knew his body was far from perfect. His back alone was littered with scars from wartime, knife scratches and stabs, scrapes and bruises, bullet scars. He knew it was perfectly normal for the military, an occupational hazard, but he couldn’t help but worry you would be disgusted by the sight.

You didn’t say anything though, just groaned quietly as you crouched down — to rifle through your bag, he assumed. “I’ve already got an opened suture kit in my bag,” he said, listening to you stop your searching.

“Oh, so you knew it needed stitches earlier and you still let it sit?” you asked, the disapproval clear in your voice.

He sighed, “Now who’s sounding like Price?”

“Yeah, well, Price is right,” you said, echoing Ghost’s words. “See what happens when you don’t apply stitches? Now I gotta clean up all this blood.”

“All this blood?” he asked, his head tilting towards you slightly, “is there that much?”

You clicked your tongue, and he could feel you eyeing him, “I guess not,” you said after a while, “but your shirt smeared it around a lot. Your back could probably give Carrie a run for her money.”

“Carrie?”

You hummed, the sound of you moving towards the kitchen sink filling the quiet room. “Have you never heard of Carrie?” you asked, turning on the tap.

“Is that the one with the uh, with the girl?”

“The one with the girl?” you called back over your shoulder, “real descriptive there Ghost.”

He scoffed, “Just hurry up and get these stitches done before I fall asleep.”

“Just hurry up and get these stitches done before I fall asleep,” you repeated in a shrill falsetto, mocking him. He turned to watch you as you returned from the sink, a damp cloth in hand and a small smile on your face. “No squirming, the water’s cold.”

He took in a breath when he felt you sliding the cold cloth against the plane of his back, suppressing a shudder when you swiped the fabric over the cut. He stayed still as you continued wiping down his back, listening to your quiet breaths instead.

He tried to ignore the awkwardness that settled in between the two of you. Or maybe there was no awkwardness and it was just a figment of his imagination, because you seemed completely unbothered by the silence. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad thing, that you were so calm even though your fingers were ghosting over his back. He wondered if you could tell how nervous you were making him, how you were making his cheeks heat up under the mask every time your breath tickled his neck, how his muscles tensed up every time your fingers brushed against his skin, how his heart pounded in his chest with every little sigh or concerned click of your tongue. In a weird way, he was thankful for the blood smeared on his back, considering it allowed him a valid excuse if you asked why his skin was turning red.

He felt you lift the cloth off of his back and walk back over to the sink. Your soft hands wringing out reddened water from the fabric as you ran it under the tap. You returned to your spot behind him again, continuing the task of wiping off his bloodied back. You started to hum quietly as you worked, setting off another swarm of butterflies in Ghost’s stomach. He couldn’t tell what you were humming, it could’ve been a song or it could’ve been a random melody you made up. Either way, he enjoyed it just the same, listening closely to every note.

After a while, he felt you take a step back and stare at him for a second, before returning to the sink and discarding the cloth inside it. “Get the kit out,” you said, your back turned to him as you washed your hands. He complied, stifling a groan as he bent over to pull the kit out from his pack. He fiddled with it as he watched you walk back to him, noticing the way your eyes lingered on his chest for a split second before extending it out to you.

“Alrighty, I don’t think I need to tell you this is gonna sting,” you said as you set up your materials. It was silent for a moment, before he felt you put one of your hands against his back for leverage. He tensed up at the touch of your cold hand against his skin, and you pulled your hand away. “Sorry,” you said, sucking in a breath.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, “just didn’t expect it.”

You hummed, “So this is okay?” you asked, putting your hand on his back again.

He nodded, stifling a wince as he felt the needle pierce his skin. Once again, you were humming as you worked. For some reason, the entire scene felt oddly domestic: you humming as you patched him up, with a storm raging outside. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the two of you were in his flat in Manchester.

He had never really given much thought as to what domestic life with you would look like. He had never allowed himself to, after all, what was the point of entertaining a dream that would never become a reality? But now he needed something to take his mind off the painful pricks of the needle, and you had already proved yourself to be a worthy distraction.

He tried to imagine what it would be like to actually live with you, to have someone to do laundry with, to do dishes with, to wake up with, someone to come home to. He had a feeling you would never approve of the way he lived currently. It had been a while since he had been in his flat, but he could still remember how he left it. Light gray walls as bare as when he got them, his closet filled only with empty hangers, his kitchen cabinets empty save for a few pots and pans, and one lonely set of dishware. His bed wasn’t any better, he didn’t even have a bed frame. Just a mattress pushed against one wall, one white pillow at the head and a neatly folded white blanket at the foot.

But if you moved in, everything would change. He could line the walls with photos of the two of you, fill his closet with your clothes. His dishware wouldn’t be lonely because he’d have to get another set for you, and he wouldn’t mind spending the entire day shopping for a bed frame as long as it was with you. He wanted to wake up with you, to be able to roll over and bury his face in your chest; he wanted to come home and wrap you in his arms after a long day, or to feel you sidle up behind him as he prepared breakfast.

The more he thought of a life with you, the more awkward he felt with you behind him. You were so ignorant of everything he thought, you didn’t know how badly he wanted you, how he would kill anyone for a chance with you. In your mind, he was nothing more than a coworker, someone you only talked to at work, but in his mind, you were his entire world. When he let his mind run wild, you took up every thought, every whim, every idea. You were tattooed on his mind in technicolor; everything was laced with your presence, your being.

“Alright,” you chirped, clapping your hands together. “Stitches are all done. I can’t believe how well you took that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that even Price at least winces whenever he gets stitched up. No offense, Ghost, but sometimes I seriously question your humanity.”

“What, you think I’m a robot?”

You snorted, “It wouldn’t surprise me, especially with that mask. It really sells the impression that you’re a cold, heartless, killer.”

“Yeah well, can’t let the enemy know I’ve got a heart, can I? That’s a sure recipe for disaster.”

“Oh so you do have a heart?” you asked, turning to face him.

“Last I checked.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“What, you want proof?”

You shrugged, “Can’t hurt.”

Ghost stared at you for a moment, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute. He didn’t know what possessed him when his hand reached out for yours; it was as if he no longer had control of his body and he was just a spectator being forced to watch as his body moved on its own. His hand grabbed yours, and he watched as you stilled, but didn’t pull away. He pulled your hand to his chest, letting it settle above his heart.

Ghost tried his best to keep his breaths steady and his heart from hammering in his chest, but between the warmth of your hand against his cold skin and your wide eyes which were trained on his, he had a feeling his heart might have skipped a few beats. It was silent for a moment before you spoke.

“I guess I was wrong,” you whispered, your eyes flickering down to sneak another glance at his chest.

“I guess so,” he said in response, his eyes dipping down to stare at your lips. They were reddish-pink and slightly chapped from the cold weather; Ghost wanted to kiss them. Slowly, he looked back up at you, meeting your gaze. You seemed awfully nervous all of a sudden; a stark contrast to your usually confident and relaxed nature. He wondered if he was making you nervous, and if it was a good nervous or a bad nervous.

He didn’t want you to be nervous that he would hurt you; he would never hurt you. Doing so would be like stabbing himself in the heart, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t look at your tear-filled eyes and know that he was responsible. He wanted you to be nervous that he had caught you staring, that he knew you liked him. Of course, Ghost didn’t know anything at the moment. Once he realized how distracting you were to him, he made himself stop trying to read you, that way he wouldn’t have to worry about even more things.

“Oh shit,” you said, breaking the silence, “you said you were tired right? You should probably go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up.”

Ghost was slightly disappointed as you pulled your hand away, but the way it lingered for just a second too long — as if you wanted to go back for another touch — didn’t slip by him. “Of course,” he said, rising from his seat, “we’ve got a long day tomorrow. We need to find the others and secure exfil. I don’t think we’re gonna be taking on Zhelyazkov any time soon after this.”

You nodded, your lips pressed into a line as you watched him grab his hoodie from his bag and slip it on. “Wake me up when you get tired,” he said, turning towards the bedroom.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

The soft cushion of the bed was a warm welcome compared to the hard wood of the chair, although this time he didn’t have the warmth of your hands to keep him company. He set his stuff down next to his bed, letting out a groan as he lay down. It felt like ages had passed since they first arrived at Zhelyazkov’s base and he started shooting at them. Ghost let his eyes fall shut as exhaustion began to kick in, his mind too tired to think. Sleep came to him quickly once his head hit the pillow. His eyelids became too heavy to open and he could feel his body sinking into the mattress.

Ghost wasn’t typically a dreamer, and yet that night, he dreamt of you. There wasn’t much meaning or direction to his dreams, just images and flashes of you, brief pockets of peacefulness or lust. He dreamt of waking you up in the morning with breakfast in bed, savoring the way you smiled up at him, your sleep-filled eyes crinkling at the corners. He dreamt of holding you against the wall, one leg wrapped over his shoulder as he ate you out, drinking in the way you cried out his name. He dreamt of walking along the street with you, one hand wrapped tightly around your waist as he admired the way you looked up at him with loving eyes. He dreamt of thrusting into you on a fur rug in front of a fireplace, delighting in the way your nails scratched down his back.

For too long, you had been nothing more than a distraction to Ghost. It was all he allowed himself to categorize you as, a mere inconvenience in his job. It was all he allowed himself to categorize you as, because the truth? The truth was that you were so much more.

You weren’t just the reason Ghost forgot to triple check his intel; you were the reason he looked forward to early morning meetings with the team. You weren’t just the reason Ghost had gotten sloppy at covering his tracks; you were the reason his heart fluttered whenever you were nearby. You were the reason his chest skipped a beat whenever you brushed up against him, you made his cheeks heat up whenever you pretended to flirt. You were the reason he flared up with jealousy whenever you talked to Soap instead of him. You were the reason for his bad mood when he didn’t see you at breakfast. You were the reason he felt safe; you were the reason he lowered his guard. You were the reason he made himself get up in the morning. You were the reason he let himself dream at night.

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

Note

Can you do 32 from the 4th and 9 from the 3rd image? I’m thinking something with mafia Minho 🤔 Thank u babes if you do it

Skz Prompt Game

Prompts: "If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Mafia!Family FemReader x Minho

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst

Warnings: Mentions of guns, weapons, mafia and illegal dealings, Miscarriage

You didn't show any emotion on your wedding day.

You wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As the man who ruled the rival mafia-your future husband, Lee Minho-took your hand in his and slipped on a diamond the size of a small city in front of the priest and a few members of family, you remained stoic.

You knew this was coming.

Knew you'd be auctioned off as soon as you turned of age to the highest bidder, the rivals that had the most to offer your father in way of an alliance.

It just so happened that Lee Minho and his gang-known only as "The Kids" on the streets-happened to have all that and more.

And you were to pay the price.

********************************************************************************

"You really have to go yourself?" You ask once more, disappointment clear in your tone, as you watch your husband pack his suitcase from your perch on the edge of the bed.

Minho sighs, long and heavy, and gives you a regretful sort of look as he tucks another one of his highly expensive suits into the safety of the travel set.

"Yes. This is a huge deal that's going down, and I can't trust anyone else to handle it safely."

You groan and fall back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling through the thin gauze of the curtains that hang in elegant strips above the huge bed.

"I understand that. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

You hear him chuckle, and then the bed sinks beneath his weight as his knees come to rest on either side of your hips, his hands beside your head.

He stares down at you with a soft, slight smile as you hold his gaze with a half hearted glare.

"Baby." He soothes, reaching out to smooth the crinkle between your eyes, the frown on your lips. You can't help but lean into his touch. "I'll be back before you know it."

He leans over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, and moves away again to resume packing.

"She's going to be incredibly disappointed you know." You try one last guilt tactic, sitting up and smoothing your dress as you glance over to Minho, who has paused to meet your gaze once more.

Something akin to regret washes across his pretty features as he sighs once more.

"I know. But it can't be helped." Zipping up the suitcase, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, and you relax against his warmth for a few blissful seconds while he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'll be back in time for the party. I promise."

********************************************************************************

"You won't be hurt." Minho murmurs beneath his breath, sitting beside you in the back of the expensive limousine, as you pull away from the chapel and toward his family estate.

You've only heard of its grandeur.

"I can't promise you affection, but you will be well taken care of."

You scoff and continue to stare out the window, because now that the wedding is over, you can feel the anger, the pain, threatening to well up and consume you.

"Exactly what a girl wants to hear from her new husband on her wedding day." You retort back sharply, and something in Minho's eyes flashes in response.

He takes in a deep, steeling breath and holds your angry gaze.

"It's all I can offer you." He says stiffly, turning from you finally to glance down at his phone, a clear dismissal. "And I would take it if I were you. You and I both know how dangerous this world can be."

********************************************************************************

"Mommy, look!" Your daughter bounds across the large back garden and shoves a flower into your palm, and you glance down at it with a smile.

"Oh, that's pretty!" You remark, reaching out to tousle her long, dark hair, the same color as Minho's. "Where did you get this?"

She motions over her shoulder with bright eyes and a grin. "Over in the flower bed! By the tree!"

You laugh and put a finger to your lips, carefully tucking the yellow flower behind her ear. "Let's keep that our little secret, hm? I don't think Uncle Felix will take well to us tearing up his carefully curated flowers. Not when it took him so long to convince daddy to let him plant them in the first place."

Your daughter nods seriously and sits down on the bench beside you, swinging her legs as she idly observes the garden.

"Where is Uncle Felix?"

"He had to go out of town with daddy." You remark absently, smoothing a hand over her long hair as you glance over to the tree line. "Where's SuSu?"

Your daughter instantly becomes alert, leaping up from the bench and running across the garden to where she was last playing, calling for the dog.

"Suwon! Suwon! Here boy! C'mere!"

You smile and shake your head as, after a brief second, the large dark doberman appears from the trees, bounding happily toward your daughter, nub of a tail wagging wildly.

He's a good guard dog, a great one even, but the moment you had had Yeong-Ja, he had become a softie for the little girl, sticking beside her like glue, keeping her safe, but playing with her when the times called for it.

You were grateful for the loyal dog whenever Minho had to be away.

Yeong-Ja runs back over once more, Suwon close on her heels, and you stroke the large dog's head when he rests it briefly in your lap, looking up at you with bright eyes, your fingers playing with the thick, spiked collar he wears around his neck.

"Well." You stand up, grabbing Yeong-Ja's hand. "Shall we go ask cook what's for dinner?"

She nods eagerly, and you laugh, tugging her toward the house with you, Suwon trotting happily along behind.

********************************************************************************

The floor creaks behind you and you whirl, gun pulled from the bedside drawer, cocked and ready, held in front of you.

Minho stands in the doorway, his hands in his suit pockets, a look of tired resignation on his face.

It takes you longer than you care to admit to lower the gun.

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?" He asks with slight amusement, taking a step into the room as you eye him warily.

It's been three months-three months since your father had given you to Minho and his gang, three months since the emotionless wedding, three months since you moved into his ridiculously huge house.

Three months, and yet, you still felt your hackles instantly rise as soon as he enters the room.

You'd been adamant about having separate bedrooms, sleeping in separate beds, and up until this point, Minho had been compliant, but you didn't know how much longer that would last.

He was bound to snap and demand an heir soon-sooner rather than later.

"I have to go away." Minho remarks, staring out the window now, down onto the garden's below, his hands behind his back.

You watch him silently and he sighs, turning to glance back at you now.

"I'll leave someone here to keep you safe obviously, but I thought I owed you the courtesy of notifying you regardless."

"How kind of you." You spit out before you can stop yourself, and Minho's eyes narrow slightly.

He takes a step toward you.

"You don't have to like me, princess, but you do have to tolerate me. And when I return-"

"You'll want to share my bed." You finish for him, and something strange flashes across his expression before he gets it back under control.

"Yes."

You shrug and look away. "It doesn't matter to me. I knew the life I was chosen for long before it came to fruition."

Minho doesn't say anything else, and after a few moments, his footsteps leave the room.

********************************************************************************

"Good night, jagi." You kiss your daughter's forehead and tuck the blanket up around her chin, before you walk to the door and flick off the light.

"Good night, mommy." She whispers back sleepily, already closing her eyes, as Suwon sighs heavily and rests his large head on the little girl's chest.

You smile to yourself and tiptoe from the room, leaving the door cracked in case the dog wants to let himself out in the middle of the night.

Your foot has barely hit the first stair, when the sound of the front door opening hits your ears, and you freeze, hands going white on the banister.

You look to the clock.

It's nearly midnight. And Minho had told you not to expect him or any of the men back until at least tomorrow.

Which means someone is in the house, someone who isn't supposed to be.

Slipping down the stairs to the second floor, you silently find the gun that is kept in the side table on the landing-Minho insists on keeping one in every drawer on every floor-and creep down a few more stairs, your eyes peeled against the darkness of the house, looking for any sign of the intruder.

The sound of a footstep from the main floor, and you raise the gun, holding it steadily in front of you as you descend, listening for another sound.

Another creak, closer this time, as you reach the bottom step.

You take in a steadying breath and turn, cocking the gun as you do so.

The light goes on in the foyer, and Minho is standing there, eyebrows arched and hands up as he realizes you're holding a loaded and ready gun in his face.

"Hello, darling."

You let out the breath you'd been holding since you first heard the door open, and drop the gun, un-readying it and tossing it on top of the chest of drawers against the wall before you throw your arms around your husband.

He chuckles, chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers move up to stroke through your hair. "I guess I should know better than to try and sneak in this late at night without giving you warning."

You pull back to look up at him, trying to manifest a glare, but too happy to see him to do much. "Yes, you should. I could've shot you!"

Minho smirks, leaning over to kiss you, before he whispers softly against your lips, "Mmm. I love it when you talk dirty, baby."

You shove against him weakly, but he just laughs and pecks your lips once more before he pulls back, moving to finish unloosening his tie.

You realize there's blood speckling the front of his white shirt, and he must notice your gaze, because he says before you can ask, "It's not mine."

You feel relief sag your shoulders.

Minho smiles again, tugging you back up the stairs, the way you had come.

"But I could do with a long, hot bath regardless."

********************************************************************************

"I'm not going to take something you're not willing to give."

You glance up from where you're lying in the huge king bed, picking at the expensive comforter, feeling more than a little exposed in the sleep set the maids had picked out before Minho arrived home.

It's little more than negligée.

He's staring at you, hands resting on the wooden footboard, knuckles white.

He's tense, cautious, unsure. You can read it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the flexing of his fingers against the wood.

You're surprised you know him well enough to pick all those signs out.

"Why?" You question back sharply, unable to control the slight anger in your tone, the confusion. "Others have."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously at your words, and you shrink, feeling sufficiently cowed.

But then his words drip from his lips laced in lethality, dangerous, and they're not directed at you.

"If you say the word, all you will have to do is tell me their names and I will hunt them all to the corners of the earth."

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and watch as he flexes and unflexes his fingers in harsh, angry movements.

Something inside of your chest picks up at his obvious fury over anyone mistreating you.

Without really thinking, you glance down at the blanket covering you, and then back up to Minho.

"Are you going to take your suit off?" You ask quietly, and it's as close to an acceptance invitation as you can get in the moment.

Minho stares at you for a second, and then slowly reaches up to unknot his tie.

********************************************************************************

"I'm glad you're back." You admit softly, playing with the rings on Minho's fingers beneath the warm surface of the water, admiring the way the opalescent sheen of the bath oils reflects off his tan, scarred skin.

"Mmm." He hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose against your damp hair, breathing you in. "Me too."

"Yeong-Ja will be thrilled." You remark, leaning your head back against his shoulder to study him, a soft smile on your lips. "We didn't expect you till tomorrow."

"I know." He glances down at you, his expression softening as his eyes meet your own, and he lets out a rueful little laugh. "I've gotten soft in my old age. I used to live for the thrill of taking care of things myself, but now I just count down the minutes till I can return home to the two of you."

"Careful, Boss Lee." You tease, reaching up to push damp hair off his brow, admiring the perfect slope of his nose. Yeong-Ja had gotten the same one. "Someone will hear you talking about being weak and scheme to take you out."

Minho leans over to press a kiss to your mouth. "Never." He growls playfully, and you laugh.

Sinking down beneath the warm water, you bask in his presence for a few minutes in silence, playing idly with his fingers where they rest on your thighs, and then you ask quietly, "Did everything go alright?"

Minho sighs and rests his chin heavily on top of your head. "As well as could be expected. We had to put a few of the transfer drivers back in line, but nothing we couldn't handle."

You snuggle closer to him, pressing a kiss to his arm. "Good. I'm glad."

Minho makes a noise of agreement in his throat and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Me too."

********************************************************************************

It's taken six months for Minho to finally trust you enough to let you be part of his meetings.

Six months, and you're now standing behind his chair silently, trying to keep track of all the plans, as the men at the large table in front of you argue over their next move.

"No way in hell that'll work." Changbin declares, crossing his broad arms over his chest and glaring Hyunjin down across the table. "It just won't."

"It's better than anything you've come up with." Hyunjin argues back, and Jisung rolls his eyes, sliding a map across the table to Seungmin.

"Min, try and decode where they're gonna buy next while these two dumbasses argue?"

Seungmin nods silently and begins to type away on his laptop.

"We don't know that they won't double back like they've done before-and then, if we're waiting on the route down-"

"That's dumb as fuck! Listen to yourself, man!"

"If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Okay, okay." Minho booms, and everyone goes silent, looking to their leader.

You have to give it to him. He knows how to command a room.

"We've got the beginnings of a solid plan." Your husband announces, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if he's fighting a headache. "Let's work from there and see where it takes us."

Everyone nods silently, and the men start to push back from the table, leaving the room.

Minho sighs, leaning his elbows on the large meeting table, and you try to resist the urge to go to him, to help, but your body doesn't listen to you, and you find yourself stepping forward, tentatively putting a hand on one of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, and Minho turns to stare at you curiously.

"Whatever for, princess?"

You glance away, your cheeks red. "I'm sure you're stressed. My father is breathing down your neck, and now there's this problem with the shipments, and I haven't become pregnant-"

Minho's gaze hardens slightly. "You never need to apologize for things you can't control. Not to me."

You stare at him, mouth agape.

"I don't know if your father made you do that for him-knowing the bastard, I'm sure he did-but you don't ever have to grovel at my feet for mistakes that are not your own, princess."

Something warm and truthful settles over your body at his words.

Minho turns back to the plans laid across the table, a slight smile pulling at his lips now.

"But if you have any bright ideas for what the fuck I should do here, I'm all ears."

********************************************************************************

"Remember when you gave me Suwon for the first birthday of mine that we ever spent together?" You ask Minho, watching your daughter play happily in the garden with the dog in question and some of her new birthday gifts.

Minho chuckles, his arm around you, as he glances over at you with a smirk. "Of course I remember. I hated him for the first year and a half."

"You did not!" You protest, ribbing him in the side, even as he laughs and pins your hand between the two of you easily. "You just put up a front."

Minho rolls his eyes good naturedly. "That dog shit on our carpet and ruined more shoes than I could count."

"He was a puppy!" You complain, but you're biting back a smile.

"A very expensive puppy, who ruined very expensive shoes." Minho retorts right back, an amused look in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." You wave him away, sniffing and turning to watch Yeong-Ja put a sun hat on the long suffering dog trying to nap beside her in the shade. "But he's a good dog now. You have to admit."

"Maybe." Minho remarks idly, gaze going to your daughter and the dog beneath the tree. "Yeong-Ja loves the damn mutt, and that's good enough for me."

********************************************************************************

Felix finds you first after the maids had mentioned not seeing you all day, curled up in the middle of the bed, sobbing silently.

Minho had been away on some business, but the minute Felix called him, he made it home in record time.

When he bursts through the bedroom door not twenty minutes later, you can't even bring yourself to look at him, curled beneath the comforter, your arms wrapped around your middle.

Felix hadn't touched you, he hadn't dared, but he'd stayed at the side of the bed until Minho arrived.

"Don't touch her." Minho commands almost wildly and Felix steps back, holding his hands up in obvious compliance.

"Call a doctor." He barks out at the retreating man, and Felix leaves the room without another word.

The bed sinks under Minho's weight, and you shuffle further beneath the safety of the blankets.

"Princess. Look at me."

You hesitate, but do as he says, and Minho's feral expression of worry softens slightly as your teary gaze falls on his.

Immediately, the walls you've been building up crumble, and you're crying again.

"I'm so sorry, Minho. I don't know what happened-"

Minho doesn't even bother shucking off his shoes or his suit coat, he slides into the bed beside you, beneath the cover of the blankets, and tugs you into his arms, stroking your hair methodically as you continue to sob.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay."

"But there's so much blood-" You whimper out, and you don't dare to look beneath the blanket for fear of what you'll see.

"I know." Minho soothes, brushing the hair back from your forehead, as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head. "But the doctor will be here soon."

"Minho, the baby, I swear I didn't know, I swear it-" You're hysterical now, and everything hurts-your body, your mind, your soul-and Minho is there, strong and steady, stroking your hair, tugging you against his chest, whispering reassurances.

"I know, baby. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

********************************************************************************

You're sitting in the kitchen, watching Minho help Yeong-Ja make pancakes, when it hits you.

This life is nothing like what you thought it'd be.

And yet, its more than perfect.

Yeong-Ja laughs as Minho swipes batter across the tip of her nose, and Suwon excitedly barks around their feet, begging for scraps and happy to be included.

Minho glances over to you across your daughter's head, and gives you a wink.

He was right. It all turned out okay.

And in this moment, you're thankful that nothing ever worked out as planned.

It's even better.

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anonymous-dentist · 1 year

Text

REBLOGS WELCOME! :D

So therapy is going well.

“And you know what? You know what else, Mariana?”

“Yes? What?”

Slime leans closer, a sneer on his face as he says: “Your sex playlist sucks.”

And that is too far. Too far.

Mariana tackles him out of his chair with an offended roar, ignoring Roier’s cries from the other side of the desk.

“Gentleman, please!” Roier protests. “Not in the office, please! Take it outside!”

Slime’s face screws up in anger. He grabs Mariana’s shoulders, nails digging in through the spandex of Mariana’s suit.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low. He meets Mariana’s eyes and brings his head closer; almost reflexively, Mariana does the same until their noses are brushing.

“Is that what you want?” Slime repeats, his breath ghosting over Mariana’s lips. “Do you want to take it outside, Mariana?”

“Oh my God,” Roier says.

“No,” Mariana replies. “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does.

Really, therapy is going well. Better than Mariana had expected, what with the single least experienced person on the island acting as his therapist. Because Roier of all people was obviously the best choice, ignore his murderous grudge against his ex… whatever, and his fun new hobby of putting children in pits to fight to the death. The guy whose last relationship ended in literal murder is obviously the best person to be the island’s court-mandated couples’ counselor.

But, well, it’s working, surprisingly enough. Slime hasn’t wished death upon Mariana in days, and Mariana is almost allowed to tuck their daughter into bed. And Flippa? She’s happier than ever (though, really, that isn’t saying much.)

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Mariana? I’m meditating. Just like the doctor ordered.”

The chainsaw in Slime’s lap disagrees with that statement. As does the blood spattered across his face. And the dying BadBoyHalo groaning on the floor in front of him.

Bad rolls onto his back and looks up at Mariana pleadingly. He mouths, ‘help me’.

Flippa stands over him holding a gun three times too big for her tiny little egg hands. She waves it cheerfully in greeting as she notices Mariana in the doorway.

Mariana rolls his eyes and groans, throwing his arms into the air. “Chinga su madre, man, what did I tell you? Stop killing people on the rug! Do you know how hard it is to clean it?”

Bad coughs blood onto said rug indignantly. Bastard.

“Well, maybe people shouldn’t try and kill our daughter on the rug,” Slime calmly responds. He speaks slowly, and Mariana is thankful for it. His translator can only work so fast, and most of his husband’s murderous rampages go by too quickly for the translator to pick up. It’s a pain.

“Oh, is that what happened?” Mariana asks.

Slowly, he walks towards Bad, whose eyes are slowly draining of life. He’s got maybe ten more seconds left before he’s forced to respawn. Mariana could save him right now.

He pulls out his sword instead.

Juanaflippa backs up, already covered in too much blood for her tastes.

“He-” Mariana points at Slime. “-is the only person allowed to kill eggs. Mamahuevo, fuck you.”

As soon as Bad is dead, Slime jumps to his feet and pulls Mariana into a bruising kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. The chainsaw digs into Mariana’s back slightly, but it’s hard to pay attention to that when his husband is right there.

“You are so hot when you’re killing people,” Slime murmurs.

And Mariana doesn’t quite understand what he said, his translator out of sight, but he knows when he’s being sweet talked well enough.

“Me encantas,” Mariana says. “Now…” (What are the words?) “...put the chainsaw down and take me to bed.”

And he does.

Once, there was a time when Mariana couldn’t remember why he married Slime. Well. He still doesn’t know why he married Slime, or when. It just sort of happened one day, and maybe they should have gotten divorced long ago for Flippa’s sake. But, hey, they got married before they even knew each other. They spent most of their marriage apart. Now that they’re being forced together, Mariana can definitely see the appeal of being married to Slime. He’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s very attractive. Who cares if he’s literally made out of slime? That just makes him special.

A human, a slime, and an egg. What a family.

Juanaflippa is still learning how to write. Her English is messy, but her Spanish is messier. Mariana tries not to think that it’s his fault for not being there for her, but he also knows that it is kind of his fault. He knows that, so Slime doesn’t need to keep rubbing it in like the asshole he is.

“Oh, wow, Flippa! That’s great!” Slime coos upon being presented with Flippa’s most recent attempt at signmaking. Mariana can’t really understand what’s written, but he thinks that he knows one or two words: ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.

Flippa hops up and down excitedly and quickly scrambles back up to her room to get another sign to work on.

Mariana idly watches her go, sprawled out across Slime’s couch with his translator in his hand ticking away. One annoying thing about his husband is how fast he talks, it’s impossible to keep up. Literally impossible. Luckily, Mariana’s been working on his English when he’s been alone, so he can at least try to figure out what’s going on without having his translator out all of the time.

Slime sighs and slumps onto the couch by Mariana’s feet. Without hesitation, Mariana kicks his legs up onto Slime’s lap; Slime doesn’t move them.

“She’s learning so fast…” Slime says.

Mariana nods. “Yes, you are a good teacher.”

“Yeah, I sure am.”

The accusation is left unsaid, but Mariana hears it, anyway.

Lightly, he kicks Slime in the chest. “Hey, fuck you. I’ve been trying.”

“I’m sure you have,” Slime responds, and the condescension is dripping so thickly from his voice that it’s in a puddle on the floor. Or maybe that’s just Slime himself.

Mariana kicks him again. He doesn’t say anything, though, because maybe therapy has been working. A week ago, they would have been yelling by now. Today, though? He’s happy enough to stew in his discontent.

He likes the quiet, anyway. Slime is a lot prettier when he isn’t screaming his head off. Very nice to look at. Muy guapo. He pretends that Slime isn’t looking back if only because acknowledging it would make him blush, and he would like to keep his dignity, thank you very much.

Eventually, Juanaflippa comes back downstairs with a new sign.

‘Te quiero, papá,’ is written on it in shaky chicken-scratch letters, and it’s enough to almost make Mariana cry. Almost.

He slips off of the couch and pulls Flippa into a hug. “Aww, Flippa, yo también te quiero.”

She wiggles in place happily. The wiggling becomes more enthusiastic when Slime goops his way into the hug as well, tucking his chin into the crook of Mariana’s neck.

Slime says, “Te amo, Juanaflippa.” And, well, it’s not quite right, but he’s got the spirit.

Mariana looks up at him with a slight pout. “What the fuck? Why don’t you say that to me?”

Slime rolls his eyes. “Fine, I guess I can say it, I guess.”

And he does.

And then there’s the sex. But that was fine before, to be honest. The only thing that has improved about it is their playlist.

Slime’s new house has a bedroom with enough space for the both of them, and it’s almost nice enough to make Mariana consider partially moving in. Almost.

Their beds are on opposite sides of the room because, frankly, they aren’t ready to properly share a bed yet. But the floors are bare so as to make it easier to push their beds together when wanted.

Mariana wants.

He pokes his head out into the living room. Slime is right where he left him, facedown on the rug after a long day of renovating. Juanaflippa is asleep upstairs, nobody else is awake on the server to interrupt or eavesdrop, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Hey, Slime,” Mariana says, and that’s enough to get his husband to roll onto his back with a groan.

“What are you still doing here?” Slime yawns. He covers his mouth halfheartedly, stretching his legs out sleepily. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Mariana confirms. “You have a bed. Come on, get into it with me.”

And usually that’s enough to get Slime up and moving, but he doesn’t so much as look at him. No, his eyes slip shut, and he lets his arms fall across his body like a mummy’s.

Oh. He’s tired.

“Estoy cansado,” Slime sighs. “Lo siento, mi novia. No sexo tonight.”

Mariana can’t help but be disappointed. The sex is one of his favorite things about their relationship. It’s the one thing that he and Slime could agree on before the court case, the one single bit of solidarity in their relationship.

But… it is late, and maybe Mariana is a bit tired as well.

So he goes out of the bedroom to pick Slime up, only buckling a little under his weight. (For a sentient pile of goo, he’s fucking heavy.)

Slime’s eyes flutter open, and his face wrinkles in confusion as he’s moved. He looks up at Mariana blearily, unsure as to what he’s doing. Honestly, Mariana doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. This is weird.

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the floor,” is Mariana’s excuse even though he knows fully well that Slime doesn’t have a spine.

“Oh, cool, alright,” Slime says. If he snuggles into Mariana’s chest a little, neither acknowledges it. “Gracias.”

“De nada.”

He drops Slime into his bed and hesitates. What now? Does he… tuck him in? He’s a grown man, he can tuck himself in.

Mariana turns to… go, he guesses, to go back to his own house, but he’s stopped by a goopy hand wrapping itself around his wrist and refusing to let go no matter how hard he tries to pull away.

“Slime, come on, let go,” Mariana groans. “Maybe I want to go to bed too, huh?”

“Then get in here,” Slime says, and that’s all the warning Mariana gets before being yanked down with a yelp onto the bed.

Slime hums, and then he’s out like a light, snork mimimi, and all. Mariana stares at him for a good moment, and then he sighs and takes his glasses off. He takes Slime’s glasses off as well, and, after placing them both onto the bedside table right next to each other, he lets himself relax. There isn’t quite enough room for the both of them, but he thinks it can make it work.

And he does.

So, yes, therapy has been working. It’s been working very well.

(Now, if only someone could get the therapist a therapist. Mariana is starting to get sick of hearing about Roier’s relationship problems at what are supposed to be his therapy sessions. At this rate, Mariana is going to kill Spreen himself if only to stop the complaining.)

#qsmp #qsmp fic #a.d.'s fics i suppose #I love them #what is the tag

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