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whimsiwitchy · 25 days

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Controversially Young Girlfriend (part three)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, fighting (verbal).

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: idk yall, this kinda ate ngl. I’m so proud of this and I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! <3 also I’m sorry to all the Pedro girlies…I had to.

part three: uninvited

The past few days seemed to drag on slower than you wished they had. The rest of your time in London was spent doing various interviews centered around your upcoming album release and Ashley dragged you around to every possible tourist attraction around. It was all rather mundane- every interview was the same and every attraction too crowded for your liking. You were being a grump but you were tired and anxious. All the hype around your sophomore album delighted you, truly it did, but the doubts always took up more space in your mind than you cared to admit. With this album, you took a lot of inspiration from the pop girlies of the early 2000s, Britney being the biggest influence. You allowed yourself to explore your sexuality and true self. The songs were erotic in the best way and in just a few weeks, everyone would have access to that side of you. The image you’d been portraying wasn’t that of a ‘soft good girl’ per say but you hadn’t been this open and honest before. It was terrifying.

You landed at LAX around two in the morning, giving you a few hours of sleep before your 11am meeting. This was one of those times you didn’t mind using the perks of your fame. You had a car waiting to pick Ashley and yourself up to take you straight home, allowing both of you to get some sleep as the driver fought through the airport traffic. The moment you reached your small house, you threw your luggage across the living room and dropped face down into the couch, falling back into a deep sleep with Ashley right next to you. When your alarms go off at nine am, you’re banging your head into the couch cushions, the seven hours of sleep feeling like a blink. You roll slightly allowing yourself to fall the short distance from the couch onto the floor. “Ow…” You mumble, rubbing the back of your head. Dragging yourself up, you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was something you should have done last night. Just thinking about all the germs sitting on your body right now made a quick chill of disgust roll down your spine. You heavily disliked sleeping in your ‘outside clothes’ but the tiredness beat the cleanliness last night.

Sweat pants and a hoodie weren’t exactly meeting appropriate but it wasn’t anything serious, just a little gathering to figure out some last minute details for the album listening party being thrown for your friends and family. You didn’t want it to be a huge deal but your label saw it as a marketing opportunity. If it were up to you, it would be a simple get together at your house but they insisted on it being at some club that would have paparazzi waiting to take pictures. You aren’t even sure why you're needed at the meeting because your input wasn’t even being considered, you just sat and gave the ‘stamp of approval’. Ashley was still knocked out when you walked to your kitchen to grab a small breakfast- a protein yogurt and some apple slices. You’d much prefer french toast but your trainer has been onto you about your diet with a tour coming up. You needed to be in good shape to dance and sing at the same time, it was ridiculous how hard it was.

“Hey Ash, imma head out, i’ll be back soon.” You shake her shoulder lighty. She opens her eyes to some degree and mutters, what sounded like, an ‘okay’. You sighed as you started the engine to your 2000 green Toyota Corolla. It had been making a funny noise before your trip overseas that you had forgotten all about it. A lot of your newer, richer, friends have made fun of your car but you couldn’t find reason to part with it. It still ran and got you where you needed to be. You loved your fugly little car. The car ride was surprisingly short, traffic light. Pulling into the office parking lot, you sent a quick text to Stacy.

You: please tell me you’re here already 😭

Stacypoo <33: I am. 4th floor, take a right. I’ll wait in the hall for you.

You sent a thumbs up and made your way to the front doors. The elevator ride was quick, luckily you were the only one in there, saving you from making any awkward small talk with some random person. You were too tired to keep up your friendly demeanor. Stacy was standing outside of an office door when you first saw her. Giving quick hellos, she motioned you into the room.

“How long do you think they’ll have us sitting here this time?” You ask jokingly. You’ve made yourself as comfortable as possible in the cheap plastic chair with a thin cushion on the seat. With your elbows propped up on the table, your head sat heavy with both hands holding up your cheeks.

She lets out a snort before responding. “Who knows. I swear these people make us wait on purpose as some kind of power move.”

Stacy had left London a day before you had. The moment your last interview was over, she was jumping on the first flight back home. She looked well rested and put together. You envied her ability to bounce back into routine so quickly. The two of you filled the small room with back and forth conversation about the day in London she had missed. Three people from your management/ label came tumbling in fifteen minutes later. As you suspected, you were doing a whole lot of nothing.

“The team we hired are allowed to go into the club at noon to start decorating and the party will start at 10pm.” One of the people spoke, you think his name is Mark, but you aren’t completely sure.

“Will y/n need to be there at a certain time or is 10 fine?” Stacy asks.

“She can show up at ten but she won’t be in the main room until 10:30 so she can give a speech and introduce the album.” Stacy gives a nod and types that into her laptop. You didn’t like the idea of giving a speech.

“Okay, let's go over the guest list one more time and then we can wrap this up.” Mark, you think, says. You’re paying closer attention now, they hand you a list and you skim it. There's a lot of names of people who you consider more of an acquaintance than a friend but you can’t really uninvite them.

“Um, can I actually add two more people to this list?” You ask and Mark nods. Stacy is giving you a questioning look.

“Can you add Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman? I um.. I met them the other day and they said they were fans. It would be cool to have them there.” You smile and from the corner of your eye, you can see Stacy pursing her lips, trying to hold back a laugh. One of the other people in the room, not Mark, adds their names to the guest list. Stacy and Mark talk for a few more minutes before the meeting is coming to a close. Once Stacy and yourself are enclosed in the elevator, she’s looking over at you with a lopsided grin, shaking her head slowly.

“What?” You give her a small chuckle, feeling extra giddy.

“You're unbelievable. Why even extend the invite to Mr. Reynolds when all you want is to see Huge Jackman.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at the play on Hugh’s name.

“So not true. They like my music, why not invite them to hear the album before anyone else?” You deny her accusations.

“Whatever you say y/n.” She drags out the ‘ever’ a little too long to emphasize just how much she doesn’t believe a word you say. The elevator is opening and the walk to the parking lot is silent. Stacy bids you goodbye and says that she would be in touch soon before she’s walking away.

“Wait! Stacy!” You call out to her and she’s turning back to you. “I need you to track down Hugh’s number, I want to personally invite him.” You smirk and she’s just shaking her head in a joking manner.

“Byeee Stacypoooo!”

—

When you got home, Ashley was awake and watching tv on your couch. You sat with her and talked about everything you had learned at the meeting. She was more excited for the event than you were, it was her type of scene. You knew you'd end up having fun once you were there but you were nervous. You might have left out the fact that you had invited Ryan and Hugh as last minute guests- it was something she could find out the day of if they showed up. She left not too long after, leaving you to pick up your home a little bit. You cleaned it pretty thoroughly before leaving the country but you felt a little overwhelmed by the unpacked luggage that sat in the middle of your living room floor. You packed too much clothing for the short trip, a lot of what was in the suitcase never even got worn. You decided to throw it all in the washer anyway. Dirtys clothes touching clean clothes makes them all dirty in your mind. In the middle of moving your laundry into the washing machine, your phone quacked signaling that Stacy had messaged you. She earned her own notification sound after the endless mixed texts and calls over the first few months of her working for you. It was a terrible habit you had, not answering your phone, but you usually paid attention to it when you were expecting contact. You pressed start on the machine and sauntered over to the kitchen counter your phone sat on.

Stacypoo <33: the deed is done…have fun loser

There was a second text that contained a number to which you assumed was Hugh’s. You smiled brightly as you texted Stacy a quick ‘thank you, love you’ text with a million heart emojis. You wasted no time, immediately creating contact for the man you were so eager to see again.

You: hey hugh, it’s y/n! my label is throwing a listening party for my album that’s coming out soon and I thought it would be really cool if you were there. no pressure to come if you don’t want to but it’s on september 14th at Disco Lights at 10pm. 😊💕

You hit send, put your phone back on the counter, and ran across your house, needing to be as far away from the device as possible. Keeping yourself busy was probably your best option right now, so that’s what you did. You continued where you left off by putting your suitcases back into the storage closet in your hallway. Living alone made you realize how neat of a person you were. Back home it felt like you were constantly cleaning but you didn’t have to do as much in your own home. It was a simple three bedroom with one and a half bathrooms. Two of the three rooms weren’t used that frequently- one being a guest bed and the other being an at home studio/ office. The most you had to do was an occasional dust and sweep. You ran out of things to do too quickly. It had maybe been an hour since you sent the text and you were too nervous to even take a peek at your phone yet. You walked over to the counter comically slow and stared down at the phone screen, too afraid to look at the notifications. There were only three outcomes to this situation- one he doesn’t respond, two he can’t come, or three he agrees to come. You were hoping it was the latter option. The worst outcome was him ignoring you, you hated being ignored. It would also overall be the awkwardest outcome because his team will more than likely extend the invite to him as well. Maybe it would have been easier that way but you really wanted an excuse to get his number and talk to him.

It felt like eternity had passed before you finally grabbed your phone, but in reality it was probably only a minute, you’ve never had the best self restraint. You unlocked it, opening the home screen, not even bothering to look at the pile of notifications, instead opting to go straight into the message app.

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Hey y/n. I’d be delighted to come. 😁

You let out a loud screech after reading the message. If you were laying down, you’d be kicking your feet in the air and twirling your hair. You knew he was old but the way he texted did something to you. It was weird but the simplicity in his words was such a turn on. Everything about him turned you on, he was sex on legs, and he was coming to your party. You checked the time he sent the message to see that he responded only ten minutes after you had sent yours. You felt bad for leaving him hanging for so long.

You: YAY!! I’ll see you there 😘

The added kiss was bold and flirty, you’d hope he would see it as such. You wanted to continue texting him but didn’t want to bother him, so you left it up for him to decide to text you back or not. Just as you were about to swipe out of the app, three little dots popped up at the bottom of the screen.

Hugh Jackman 🥰: What should I wear? I haven’t been to a club in awhile.

You: wear whatever you want. I'm sure you’d look good in anything ;)

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Thank you sweetheart. I genuinely do need help though. I’m too old to pick out club clothes. 😂

You: hmmm.. if it would help I could send you a picture of my outfit? maybe it will inspire you

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah we can try that.

Ashley begged you to go shopping with her the moment you told her about the event and you both have had outfits picked out for a few weeks. When you got home that day, you put on the outfit, snapping a quick mirror picture to send to your hair and makeup artist so she could start brainstorming. You opted to send the same picture to Hugh.

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Oh! That’s nice.

You laughed at that. The picture of you wasn’t the best quality but you still looked hot. You were wearing a silver mini skirt that was lined with large sequins, ones that reminded you of a purse you had when you were younger. The top was a silver latex halter top that made your cleavage look devine. To top the look off, you wore a pair of shiny silver heels that could almost be classified as stilettos, but you wanted to be able to move around comfortably. You could have easily pulled the outfit out of your closet and snapped a picture of it but you wanted to tease him.

You: thank you! did that help at all? 😊

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah, it did... Thank you sweetheart.

You: no problem!

He didn’t respond right away this time and being the menace you are, you were hoping it was because you made him flustered.

—

The two and half weeks leading up to the listening party seemed to drag on now that you were more excited for it. Now that Hugh was coming, you were also extra nervous. While you got your hair and makeup done, all you could think about was how everyone was about to hear about your sex fantasies for almost an hour straight. You were counting on the beat of the music and the fact that this was everyone's first listening to distract them from processing the lyrics right away. You hadn’t heard much from Hugh and you were scared that you might have offended him with the picture you had sent. You decided to send a text two days ago asking if he was still planning on coming, to which he replied positively.

Butterflies danced around your tummy as you posed for a few pictures before you went out to join the party. You could hear it in full swing, a playlist that you had curated playing in the background. Breathing in and out slowly, someone handed you a microphone and you were being ushered to a small stage that sat in the back of the club. The music got turned down and the lights centered towards you, a wave of quiet flooded the room.

“Hi everyone! I’m beyond thankful for everyone here tonight. This album has been so much fun to make and I feel like it really represents me as an artist. It pays tribute to the amazing women of the late 90s and early 2000s who changed the pop game and who inspired me to make music. I really hope y’all like it! Without further ado, here is ‘Secret Sounds’!” The gathering of your friends, family, and acquaintances cheer as the first song starts to play. You rush over to the side to hand the mic back to the crew member and you begin to make your rounds. You stop here and there, speaking to people you hardly know, thanking them for being here. The club was packed, making it hard to move around without stopping to talk every step you took. There were only a few people you really wanted to see right now. A smile is glued to your face, soaking in all the love in the room, with it only being partially forced. You can see Ashley across the crowd and you start making your way towards her. You don’t make it far before there's a hand on your shoulder stopping you.

“Hey baby.” A familiar voice comes from behind you causing your smile to drop as you turn around.

“Pedro…what are you doing here?” You ask with a mix of shock and irritation in your voice.

“You invited me, remember?” He’s smiling as if he hadn’t broken up with you in the cruelest way almost two months ago.

“I thought you’d be smart enough to take the breakup and me ignoring you as being uninvited.” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t be like that baby.” He’s smiling down at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. He reaches down to grab your waist but you step back before he can.

“Don’t touch me!” You say louder than anticipated but no one’s paying attention to you over the loud music. “You broke up with me, remember?” You’re thoroughly pissed off.

“I know, baby and I regret it everyday. I want you back y/n. I need you back…” He’s reaching for you again, you step back again.

“I said don’t touch me..” You don’t yell this time. You need to get away from him. This was supposed to be your night and he’s ruining it. You go to turn around but you’re stopped by a very hard object.

“Is everything okay over here?” A gruff voice asks and you feel two hands grab either side of your arms. “Are you okay?” You look up to see Hugh looking down at you, concern in his eyes.

“Hugh..” Your voice is weak and breathless.

“Oh don’t tell me you already moved on?” Pedro lets out, anger lining his words. “What is he, your boyfriend? I wasn’t old enough for you y/n? You had to run and fuck my friend?” His voice grows louder and louder but miraculously no one seems to notice the commotion.

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You mumble, too embarrassed by the situation.

“What’s it to you? Huh? Why don’t you mind your business and leave.” Hugh’s voice matches Pedro’s energy effortlessly. He lets go of your arms and instead points an angry finger at Pedro.

“You know what, I don't need this and I don’t need you.” Pedro says looking into your eyes with a malicious stare. “Good luck with her, she’s nothing but a good fuck and trouble.” He’s walking away before either of you could answer. You felt Hugh go to move towards the directions Pedro went but you stop him by putting your hand on his chest.

“Don’t…” You whisper and you weren’t sure if he could hear you over the music. Tears were starting to pool at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to escape.

“Are you okay y/n?” Hugh asks and that’s all it takes before you let out a soft sob. He puts his hand under your chin and is lifting your head. “Let's get you out of here, is that okay?” All you can do is nod. You grab his hand and walk towards the hallway that leads to the room you got ready in. You open the door and make your way to the couch that sits along the wall. Hugh follows behind, closing the door and takes a seat close to you but not too close. He doesn’t say anything, what could he say?

“I’m sorry.” You let out, tears still falling. You pull your knees up, trying to hide the tears from Hugh, even if he already knew they were there.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” He cautiously places a hand on your back and rubs it in soft circles, soothing you. You untuck your head for a moment.

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” You frown at him.

“What he did is not your fault. Okay?” You can’t find the energy to answer him right away, not sure if you truly believe his words, but you nod anyway.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” Sadness fills your voice.

“What? Why not?” He asks confusingly.

“Everyone is going to think what Pedro thought, that you’re my boyfriend. We shouldn’t be seen together. It won’t be good for you.”

“Hey, don’t think like that sweetheart. Whatever we are is our business, nobody else's. I want to be seen with you, I'm here to support you. I don’t care what people have to say. I’m not him.” His hand stopped moving around your back, eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place.

I’m not him

You don’t respond but you do feel better about the whole situation. You can hear the fourth song of your album playing and you get hit with another rush of sadness.

“I should probably go back out there, people will start to wonder where I am.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Let's get you cleaned up. Stay right here.” Hugh stands up and grabs a tissue, wetting it slightly by pouring a few drops of water from a water bottle onto it. He walks over and bends down, sitting on his knees right in front of you. Even at this angle, his head is still resting above yours. Hugh grabs your chin lightly and begins to dab the tissue, wiping your tears away. You can feel the heat from the air leaving his nose hitting your face. It’s comforting in a way.

“There we go, good as new.” He says with a big smile. Your faces are inches away from each other and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him in.

“Thank you Hugh. For everything.” You return his smile, eyes locked onto his. You took a moment to appreciate his appearance. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray, almost silver button up, as if he tried to match with you.

“Don’t mention it sweetheart” He stands up and offers his hand to you. “Now let’s get the star of the show back out there, yea?”

You grab his hand and smile. “Do I look okay?” You ask, afraid that your disheveled state might have ruined your hair or outfit somehow. You pull him towards a mirror to check your full appearance, a firm grip still on his hand. It engulfed yours beautifully.

“You look gorgeous.” You can tell he means it by the look in his eyes and the small smile that sits on his face. You see a flicker of something in his eyes, you don't fully catch it, but before you can think it over, he’s leaning down to leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

“Let’s go.” He says pulling you out of the room and back into the sea of people, never letting go of your hand.

Thank you for reading!!

part four

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#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fandom #hugh jackman x popstar!reader #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman smut #popstar!reader #female reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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mayajadewrites · 4 months

Text

could've been you - shouta aizawa, keigo takami

✦ synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: angst hehe

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie

chapter nine

Your heart starts to race.

The space where Keigo once was is now empty. His duffle bag - gone. You stand up so quick you almost fall over.

You check your phone. No text.

2:45 AM.

You press his contact and call 1, 2, 3, then 10 times.

No answer.

Tears well up in your eyes as you accept this fate - that Keigo snuck out. Left you.

You tried climbing back into bed but you can't sleep.

You put your softed robe on and pad to Aizawa's door. It's late, sure, but he's probably awake.

And you still don't have his number so this is how you communicate.

You knock on the door as quietly as you can, careful not to wake up anyone else on your floor.

After a few knocks, the door opens.

Aizawa rubs his eye before finally looking at you. He can tell you've been crying.

"What happened?" He grabbed you by your shoulders and brought you into his place.

You didn't answer - you couldn't. How could you explain that you just let a man fuck you and he left?

"Please talk to me." Aizawa's voice was soft now as he set next to you on the couch.

"Keigo left." You sniffle.

"Left? Left to where? What do you mean?"

"We had sex, fell asleep and then he left. He didn't leave a note or anything! I called, no answer."

Aizawa's eyebrows almost reached the top of his forehead. "He didn't say goodbye? No explanation?"

"No. His bag is gone. He's gone."

Shouta's face was full of anger. You observed his body language - he was tense.

But then he held you. No words were exchanged. His body heat was against yours as his body mended into yours.

His hair was pulled back into a low bun - your favorite. He pulled you on top of him so your back was on his chest.

You took a deep breath as his arms tightened around you, almost like a weighted blanket. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Shouta." You murmured as your eyes began to close.

"For what?" His calloused hand caressed the soft skin on your cheek.

You mouth parted as a quiet snore left your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, you were in a bed.

Not your bed.

Your face is buried in a large, soft pillow with a dark gray pillowcase. The blankets are shades of gray and black, the fabric so soft against your skin.

You heard the sizzling of oil in a pan, along with soft music playing through the apartment.

"Good morning." You emerged from the bedroom, watching Shouta cook breakfast. "Hope I didn't wake you."

He was shirtless, his hair up again, flipping a pancake with a spatula.

You shook your head as you yawned, padding towards the kitchen. Shouta half-smiled as you approached him. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He wanted to take you on the counter, pulling your hair as he watched your ass cheeks jiggle against his cock.

"You didn't." You looked down at your robe that you were still wearing. "I'm gonna grab clothes from my place quick, I don't want to wear this robe anymore."

"You can wear something of mine." Shouta walked to his room, opening a drawer with crewnecks folded perfectly, then another drawer with sweatpants.

He handed you the clothing, your nose instantly recognizing the scent of Shouta.

"I'll leave you to it." He turned around and went back to cooking.

As you changed into his clothes you couldn't help but notice the feeling in your stomach. Butterflies fluttering.

A feeling you haven't really felt with Keigo. Especially with the shit he pulled.

Speaking of Keigo, you checked your phone to see if he text you.

You had 40 missed calls from him, 55 texts.

Why even bother reading them? He left you with no communication. It takes 4 seconds to say goodbye.

You make Shouta's bed for him, laying the pillows nicely along the headboard. You left your phone on his nightstand to join him in the kitchen.

Shouta served you your breakfast with an iced coffee - he remembered from when you were observing his class how you liked it.

"Thank you." You dug your fork into your pancakes, letting the sweet taste hit your tongue. "I didn't take you for a cook, Eraser."

"I'm full of surprises." He smirked, his half lidded eyes finding yours.

You heard a hand banging on a door a couple doors down from Shouta.

Your room.

Both you and Shouta walk to the door, him opening it as his body rested against your back.

And there you saw a peek of red feathers.

"Leave." You stepped out of the doorway. "You took all your stuff already, so you're free to go."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you, that was a mistake. I-"

"She said to leave." Shouta emerged from the doorway, standing behind you again. "You didn't have the decency to say goodbye, it's embarrassing that you even try to show your face here again."

"I was on call, there was an attack, I had to-"

"All of which I would have understood if you used your words and told me. You may be a grown man but you act like a child." You press your back to Shouta's muscular chest for comfort. "Only an absolute asshole fucks someone and dips in the middle of the night. That will be the last time you're ever inside of me." You turned on your heel to walk back into Shouta's place.

"Baby bird, I-"

"She was pretty clear on what she wanted. If I see you here again, you will have hell to pay."

After a few minutes, Keigo left. You heard his heavy footsteps walk out of the building, then he took flight into the air. You watched from the window, but he didn't look back.

"Stupid fucking bird." Shouta sucked his teeth as he took a sip of his coffee. "You're gonna stay with me today. He's probably gonna try to come back later."

You didn't bother to argue. "Okay."

It really bothered Shouta that Keigo left you at such a vulnerable time. It's scary giving yourself to someone and then they leave. It fucks with the psyche.

"You know, I never got your number." You looked at Shouta as he cleaned the kitchen.

"Because you told me I was never getting yours."

"Well, I changed my mind." You crossed your awms over your chest.

"Hm, what makes you think I want your number?"

"Come on, Eraser." You grab his muscular arm, wrapping both of your arms around it. "You know you can't resist me."

"Tch." He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "You just like my place more than yours."

"It's cozy, unlike you. You have these hard muscles that are terrible to lay on." You looked up at him with your doe, Disney princess eyes.

"They're good for other things." He smirked as he picked you up by your waist, sitting you on the counter.

You can't help but smile as he cages your hips with his forearms, his chocolate eyes boring into yours.

"You're cute from up here." You tuck a piece of his hair behind your ear.

"You're cute in my clothes." Shouta's thumb traced circles on your plush thigh. "Your ass looks way better in them than mine does."

You playfully slap his arm, hooking your ankles together to pull him closer to you.

The feeling of Shouta being so close to you makes your stomach flip with a mixture of butterflies and anxiety.

It was so easy to kiss Keigo, but you're more excited when you're around Shouta.

You were expecting him to go in for a kiss, but instead he rubbed his nose on yours, interlacing his fingers around your ass.

It was an intimate moment. No pressure, no fear of him leaving.

Your memories with Shouta begin to flood your mind, how he betrayed you. How he didn't listen to you. How he assisted in putting you in a coma.

Can the past truly stay in the past? Can you look beyond what was done?

You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into him.

You will try.

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appleblueberry-pie · 6 months

Note

Please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 do a yandere miles morales scenario if reader runs away from him

Pain Isn't Strong Enough

A/n: I'll get as close as I possibly can to "running" away as I can. If nearly spinting almost counts, then absolutely.

Miles didn't know what went wrong. You two were fine with each other the entire time. You often came over to eat dinner. Paid attention to his jokes. You made jokes back. You seemed comfortable when you came over to his place, and vice-versa seemed comfortable when he pulled up at yours. You stole hoodies from him like he wished for you to do. You often texted and called, and everything. You two had great communication skills, the whole fucking nine. So why....? Why are you not...being you??

He knew something was up when you gave him weird strained smiles all throughout the school day. Only would greet back when you two ran into each other again during passing period, and never said anything past that, especially when you two had physics together. He spoke the whole time. You best understand that he definitely checked up on you. Multiple times.

"...baby, are you okay? You've been kind of....kind of quiet lately. Did you eat? How'd you sleep last night?" "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. I'm good." You'd say, nodding at him. He'd stare at you for a few seconds. Waiting for your face to crack or anything. But nothing. So he let it go for now.

At the end of the day, he offered to walk you home. He asked every single time you two walked back to your place, and you always told him to stop asking since you both always would go, no matter what happened. "Lemme you home, ma." He mutters it softly like every other time. "No." Miles stopped in his tracks and snapped his head toward you. "No?" He nearly shouts it. The confusion he felt was embedded deep into his voice when he repeated that word. The fact that you felt, he assumed, uncomfortable enough to openly decline him walking you home just rubbed him the wrong way entirely.

But he didn't mean to respond so abruptly. He collected himself as soon as he said it to not alarm you. He gives you a concerned stare, making sure to watch your eyes. "You sure?" He steps closer to you, getting rid of the space that he felt like was separating the two of you. "Yeah. I just want to go home." You made up some phony excuse to get him off of your back, but of course, it didn't work. "Then let me take you." "I just said no. Is it wrong that I don't want you to come with me this time?" You slip on your wording, wanting it to sound nicer to not be suspicious. And it just left Miles with more questions.

The undertones on your phrasing made him frown. He stays silent and you regret opening your mouth for every second he doesn't respond. You avoid his gaze, staring down your designated block. "No. Go 'head. My mom prolly need help with the chores anyway. I'll see you later, Mi Corazon." He softly whispers the nickname to you, pecking your cheek. You cheese every time he does it. Giving that laugh he loves and saying that you love him back. Now, you don't even flinch, not meeting his gaze once. "Hm." And you walk off.

His initial thought was that you're cheating. But he would know. So, he lets his heart and bones ache for the rest of the day as he waits for you to talk to him. He lets his mom bother him about where her "step-daughter" is and tries to stay chill the entire time he does his homework. His mind was loud and quiet at the same time. He couldn't seem to focus on one thing at a time until he knew the two of you were good. But he didn't want to press you, he didn't want to stress you out. He wanted you to take your time in reaching out to him. So, he stays patient.

By 9 o'clock, he was done with all possible things he could've done to pass the time. Did the laundry, made dinner, cleaned his mom's car, spoke with a neighbor, he even fixed the fucked up cable wires that had been preventing everyone from watching TV this past week. And it was until then, that Miles finally gets a text message from you. He was practically staring at his phone as if he knew you would answer and immediately swiped it off of his desk to see what you finally said. But nothing in the world could've prepared him for what he saw on his screen and he felt his heart drop as he read the message.

Baby - [Are you the prowler?]

He was ready. He was ready for any response you could've given him. I need space, I'm sorry, how are you, what are you doing, can you come over, hey, i miss you, i love you, fuck you, don't talk to me ever again, lose my number. "Is he the prowler"?? Is that what he's seeing on his screen right now?? Miles firmly believes he's hallucinating that message you sent, but the other ones above it that he had read a million times over are still the same, so it has to be real. Miles thinks of all of the hiding places for his gear, his other computer, his hidden weapons, his other bunch of keys, the paperwork for the deals he made, fuck, he couldn't think of what you possibly could've found that made you draw that conclusion. He cursed aloud and watched his hands begin to shake.

It wasn't the end. You wouldn't end the relationship over something as small as this, right? I mean, he would never hurt you, he knew that you knew this. But on the inside, he knew that this was the end of something. And he didn't know if he wanted to know what. Another message came up. You knew he saw it.

Baby - [Answer me.]

Miles - [I'm coming over.]

Baby - [No, don't.]

He shoved his phone into his pocket and rushed to put on a jacket and some shoes. Sneaking out to the fire escape, he rushed down to the street to speed walk over to your place.

You were scared. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but in the back of your mind, you knew the truth and just couldn't help but feel real fear in your heart. He really was the prowler. You saw everything. That hyper-realistic metal mask you found under his pillow, it couldn't be for just nothing. For fucks sake, it even had the same holographic colors and shape. You found the claws and couldn't bring yourself to see anymore than you already did. And what made it worse is that when you spent the night the same time that you found his gear, he snuck out of the bed....not returning until the early hours of the morning. It made you sick to your stomach.

He was supposed to just be your boyfriend. Not a killer and a fucking robber and whatever else he was. Secrets as big as these just made you question everything else about the relationship you two had. What if he also had bitches on the side? What if you weren't the only one? What if he was using you? Would he......would he kill you...? You were gonna vomit.

Your body felt numb as you put on his hoodie and a pair of shoes he had gifted you. Everything that reminded you of him, you couldn't get rid of. You love him too much. The more you try to shove him away, the more he surrounds your everyday life and mind. And now he was going to find you. You weren't ready to talk at all.

You turned off your location on your phone and left. Maybe you can stay at one of your girl's houses tonight. But she lives in the direction of Miles's place, and you'd probably run into him on the way there. Maybe your cousin that lives like 30 minutes away? It's dark and....the walk would be so fucking dangerous, but it's safer than literally talking with a killer who you slept in the same bed with who-knows-how-many times. What were you going to tell your mom? Your family? His family?? Did his family know? How can you break up with him without causing an uprise? It almost seemed impossible because everyone loved you two being together. And the ones that hated it wanted it more than the two of you did. Too many people had hope in your relationship, it was horrible. It shouldn't have come to this. Maybe you should've just minded your own business.

You round one, two corners. It's dead silent and there's no one on the streets, which somehow feels worse than actual people being there stalking the streets. You hate that you can hear your own heartbeat and breath. On your third corner, you crash into a chest and rough hands grab you before you can fall. "No! No, get off of me!" You thrash in his arms and he seems to almost yell in your face. "Y/n, can you calm down? What the hell is you screaming for??"

"You know why I'm screaming at you, nigga!" "No, I don't I actually don't. So instead of running from me, can you talk to me?" You huff and go silent, pulling yourself out of his grasp to try and breathe. Miles's face falls when he sees how stressed you look. Your veins almost seemed to pop out of your neck. Did you really not want him there? He didn't know what to do. "Please, cariño, I just want to understand..."

You didn't want to start the waterworks and looked up to keep tears from falling down your face. You struggle to croak out the words, gesturing to help yourself cope. "The stuff...t-the stuff under your pillows and bed." Miles looks off to the side. "What is that stuff you got, Miles?" Suddenly it was quiet again. He didn't want to tell you. You didn't want it to be true. Why wasn't he denying it? Why wasn't he hugging you and telling you it was all fake? A science class experiment? Something? Anything but this?? He looks back at you and gains the courage to step closer, bringing a hand up to wipe away your hot tears on your face, like he promised he'd always do for you. He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, baby."

You just seemed to cry harder at his words and pulled his hand from your face. Your throat was beginning to close up, the truth showing in what wasn't said. "I hate when you lie to me. I know you know that I hate when you lie to me. Don't lie....don't lie.." Miles wanted you in his arms again, not far away, distancing the two of you in your mind like he knows you're doing. You're great at disappearing when feeling stressed, but to leave him alone? He doesn't think he can take that. He gave his heart to very few people in his life, and somehow it can never fix his problems. His mom's stressed, Aaron wants more from him, and his Dad.... You're the only one that's given him what he didn't know he needed. You're his salvation. And for you to slip out of his fingers is something he can't allow. His only option left is to tell the truth that he has been hiding for so long.

"I am." You sniffle and wipe your eyes. He can't seem to look at them, instead he stares at the necklace he gifted you when you first got together. Knowing that you kept it on was all he needed to keep speaking. "I am the Prowler."

Your face shifts from sadness into one of frustration as he explains. "I've been the Prowler for 2 years now. I go out almost every night. It helps my mama pay the bills, it keeps Brooklyn safe, and it keeps my close family safe as well. I don't do this for nothing." He whispers the words so quietly, as if he was whispering a taboo to you. Never slipped out of his lips before until this one moment with you. You turn your face the other direction. Miles watches you clench your jaw and rushes to take your hands into his, kissing them lightly.

"And I know that's a long time. And I know I was hiding it from you, baby. Pero tienes que confiar en mí. You're on my mind every single night when I'm out. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I couldn't come back to you one night because I wasn't careful. So I stay careful."(But you have to trust me)

Both of his knees hit the hard concrete as he stares up into your glossy eyes, not daring to look away. "You can do anything, anything to me. I don't care. You can beat me the fuck up, mami. But, por favor, no me dejes. I need you! I need you to live, baby. I can't be without you. I don't wanna see you walk away from me. Please." (Please, don't leave me)

Miles whispered the words only for you to hear. All you wanted was that apology and you wished to give in so bad. You wanted him to stay. Miles stood when you looked the other way to catch your eyes again. "Just let me walk you home, mi vida, and we can talk about this in the morning, okay? Or even tonight, if you want to. Just don't give up on me, not like this." Miles's heart was racing a mile a minute. He really didn't know if he could convince you in this moment. Your face seemed to be stone cold. But when he grabbed your hand, you seemed to tighten your fingers around his. His eyes told you what his mouth couldn't say. And by communicating through silence, you let him pull you in the direction of your home.(My dear)

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gideonisms · 10 days

Note

For the prompt you asked! Griddlehark end up being fuck buddies by necessity but they still hate eachother or do they??

I had fun with this one <3

In the tight confines of the closet they’ve found themselves in, Harrow struggles for purchase against the horrible shelving unit. Gideon’s set her on a bottom shelf as she scrambles to open what should be a fairly simple button and zipper situation.

“Griddle,” Harrow grits out. “Do you need help getting in my pants? Have you lost your sense of direction? You know the medics have a tea for those struggling with the physical aspects of survival in deep space.”

“Fuck you, I’ll show you my physical aspects,” Gideon answers, predictably. She grabs the hand Harrow is trying to snake down to her pants and holds it back easily, not bothering to be gentle as she finally thumbs the pants open and sticks her fingers underneath the waistband of Harrow’s thermal underwear. “Really?” she says.

“I get cold.”

“Yeah, I bet you do, you frigid bi—”

Gideon breaks off as Harrow takes her wrist with her free hand and shoves Gideon’s fingers down to her cunt, where she’s warm and already embarrassingly wet.

Well, Harrow reasons, it’s been a long assignment. She can’t say she’s made much scientific progress, but she’s begun to chart a good estimate of the time it takes from seeing Gideon to fighting with Gideon to locking Gideon with her in a closet. The average is fifteen minutes. Today, it had been forty-five seconds.

“Oh, you need it bad,” Gideon says. The grin is evident; Harrow doesn’t bother to turn on the lights.

“I have ten minutes until I need to check the cryochambers.”

“Uh huh.” Gideon slides her fingers over Harrow, but not where Harrow needs them. Fucking useless! Nav has never done anything but disappoint. Her thumb barely brushes Harrow’s clit, and Harrow’s hips buck. On the shelf behind her, she hears something topple.

“Gideon, please.”

At that, Gideon’s body goes still. Harrow can’t tell what she’s thinking, can never really tell. Even when she came to Gideon and asked for this the first time, both of them so pent up from nine months of deep space with a bunch of ancient scholars who barely listened to a word Harrow said and certainly didn’t pay any attention to a spare security guard—even then, Harrow couldn’t tell why Gideon agreed. Although she makes a study of Gideon Nav, day in and day out, although she’s memorized her down to the twitch of her thighs before she comes, in some ways Gideon remains a mystery to her.

“Oh. You’ve never asked me before,” Gideon says, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I thought it was impli—oh fuck.”

Gideon slides two fingers in easily, still not gentle, but slow enough that Harrow can back out if she wants. Harrow bears down with her whole body. Her leg hits a broom handle, and she swears, but Gideon curves her fingers so perfectly, hits the mark exactly—in this, she’s always been a quick study. Harrow wants to cry at how good this feels, after all the months orbiting a cold dead rock. After all this time feeling like a corpse in a coffin, perpetually separate from the world.

“All you ever had to do was ask,” Gideon says.

The coffin lid opens. Harrow comes alive.

#there is fingering. look maybe there's a theme to these don't examine it too hard #replies #my fic #tlt writing prompt night

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leaentries · 8 months

Note

Please can we talk about Nico when his gf is having a bad body day, just feeling a little sad/insecure. (me atm)🥺

I love how your blog is for chubby girls btw💗

my heart ❤️ he would be so sad and his big ole brown puppy dog eyes would get so big

here’s a lil blurb to kick off my return to writing 🕺

also i’m writing this on my phone so the format might be slightly different…sorry😋

your mind was cloudy, the world just seemed darker today. something about the way your outfits clung to your body just didn’t seem right.

your floor was littered in different items of clothing, having tried on what seemed to be everything hanging in your closet.

tonight was the first night in a long while that nico was able to plan something nice for the two of you. making reservations at a fancy restaurant, booking a hotel room for the night, the whole nine yards. you should be happy, ecstatic that you are finally getting your boyfriend all to yourself, but, in this moment, all you wanted to do was cry.

tears threatened to spill as you stared into the mirror. the fabric of the dress hugging your body in all the ways you hated, you felt suffocated.

you choked back a sob as you violently unzipped the dress and threw it somewhere amongst the rest. sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in nothing but a bra and some panties, you looked helplessly at the tsunami of clothes. you wanted nothing more than to feel beautiful in your own skin. to feel worthy of going out with nico.

the salty drops cascaded down your face faster than you could will them away. you were lost, not knowing what to do from here. a loud knock echoed through your apartment, drawing a small, “Fuck,” from your panicked lips.

nico was here and you weren’t even close to being ready. dread filled your chest knowing how excited he is and how his beaming smile is what’s gonna greet you the second you open the door. you quickly grab the nearest oversized sweater, throwing it over your head as you make your way to the entrance.

you take a deep breathe before gripping the metal handle and carefully opening the door.

your heart melted and broke all at the same time. nico stood tall, dressed in his all black suit, the one he knew you loved, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you felt a new batch of tears quickly begin to build in your vulnerable state.

you didn’t want to ruin nico’s night with something a minuscule as being insecure. you wouldn’t hurt him like that. before your tears could fall, you plastered on a small smile, letting nico walk in the apartment.

his happy features dropped slightly upon seeing your sweater, “What’s wrong, schatzi? Why aren’t you dressed?” his tone filled with worry.

you shook your head, opting to give him a little fib, “I’m just having a hard time finding something that fits tonight, Neeks.”

He smiled cheekily, taking it upon himself to place the flowers in a mason jar, “Let me put these in water first, then I will come help.” You gave him a slight nod, before returning to your cluttered room. A deep sigh left your lips, realizing that Nico is gonna see the inside of your brain that now lays upon your bedroom floor.

“Oka- Whoa.” nico’s words died in his throat as he glanced around the space.

You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed at the mess. “I know, I know! I just couldn’t find anything to wear! and i felt like i needed to try on everything and nothing worked and-” Nico cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not judging. I think you forget I have a sister, i’m not new to this.” He walks in, eyes scanning the pile carefully. He picked up a black dress, once that just-so-happened to match his suit. “Here!” he flashed his dimples at you, “This is perfect. Put this on, f’me, schatzi, you’ll look beautiful.”

You gently took the dress, clutching it to your body.

He placed a quick kiss to your temple before walking out, “I’ll wait outside the door, just shout if you need anything.”

You stripped yourself of the sweater, pulling on the black dress. Normally, you’d admire the way the intricate details of the fabric or the way it tied gracefully in the back, but you only found yourself criticizing as you stood in the floor length mirror once more. Your eyes dragged over each spot you hated.

The way you thought your legs didn’t look quite long or skinny enough, or the way your tummy wasn’t flat. Even the way your hip-dips stood out more prominently in your opinion, it all just seemed overwhelmingly visible. Too lost in thought, you missed the door opening and a certain swiss making his way into the room.

Nico’s eyes focused on the way yours filled with disgust at your body, the way you were picking at every inch. He wasn’t oblivious to your insecurities, although he would never understand why you felt that way. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous and genuine woman he’d ever met. You were perfect and even better, you were his.

He took his place behind you placing his hands gently on your hips. You jumped slightly startled by his sudden appearance.

“This is more than just finding an outfit, schatzi.” His eyes meet yours through the mirror, “What’s really going on?”

His soft words broke the damn that you’d been trying so hard to keep from cracking. Your head dipped down as a sob left your throat. Nico immediately moved to stand in front of you, pulling you into his chest.

His hand came up to stroke your hair softly, as you cried into his shirt, “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby.” Nico tried his best to console you, whispering comforting words into your ears.

“C’mon, take some deep breaths for me.” He pulled your head from his chest, hands moving to cradle your face. He began to breathe slowly, encouraging you to breathe with him. One you had regained some air, you looked up at him.

“M’ sorry, Neeks.” You sniffled, “I’ve just been having a bad day and I kept putting on different outfits, but I just felt…” You trailed off, trying to find the right word. His big doe eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I just feel ugly.”

Nico felt his heart physically throb. How could his beautiful girl see herself as ugly? Doesn’t she know that he wishes he could see her for the first time, just so he could fall in love with her all over again? Nico was at a loss for words. He genuinely couldn’t grasp how someone, let alone yourself, could ever think you were ugly.

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the simple word that left the man’s mouth.

“…No?” You were confused.

“Listen to me,” He turned your bodies back to your original position, “You see these legs? These are the most gorgeous, most soft, most warm legs that I could ever want. The way they work as a perfect pillow,” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Or the way that they wrap around my head.”

Your breath began to pick up as he began to list off every part of your body and the reasons why he loved them. He picked apart your insecurities and replaced them with love and desire.

“But more of all, this girl.” His eyes rose to meet yours once more, “This girl is the most beautiful and precious person that I have ever had the privilege of knowing. This girl is my girl. My pretty girl.”

You felt a new flood of tears, this time because of the vast amounts of love radiating from Nico.

“Thank you, Neeks” You felt the need to thank him, thank him for dealing with you.

“Don’t thank me. I would give up anything just for the opportunity to tell you how pretty you are.”

His hands began to untie the back of the dress, only stopping when your hands came up to hold his in place.

“What about dinner?”

He smirked at you, “Screw dinner, let’s just go to the hotel room.” You turned in his grasp as the dress slowly fell to pool at your feet. Nico tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth at the slight of your exposed skin. “Because right now I want nothing more than to spend the night between my favorite pair of legs.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x chubby!reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x y/n #nh13 #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

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hungermakesmonsters · 8 months

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Sixteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some light spanking and recording of smuttiness (all with enthusiastic consent) . Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~3.8k

A/N : Set straight after the last one -- I think we all saw where this was going. ALSO I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS. I'm speechless, thanks so much for the follows and for reading this every week, it means so much to me!

Chapter Sixteen

While you were both eager to get home, you and Billy managed to last another hour, spending your time drinking, dancing and sitting with Frank and Karen. The change in Billy was so apparent that you even caught Frank giving him strange looks. It seemed like a weight had been lifted from him, like he finally felt as safe with you as you felt with him. And, by the time you made your excuses to leave, you were more than ready to get him all to yourself.

Neither of you really spoke on the taxi ride home, you were content to just snuggle up against him, trying to keep warm. And Billy was quick to usher you through his buildings foyer and into the elevator once you were inside. Then everything seemed to explode.

His lips were on yours before the elevator doors had even fully opened, his hands on your hips, pulling and guiding you into the penthouse, both of you shrugging off your coats. By the time the doors slid shut, he had you pressed back against the wall, no space between your bodies, leaving you with no doubt about how much he wanted you. If you’d let him Billy would have happily fucked you right then and there, as he had on countless other occasions, and part of you did want to let him. But you wanted more than that tonight. It had been such a good night after the initial discomfort of your argument, and you wanted the good feelings to last as long as possible.

Eventually, you broke the kiss, giving him a light, playful shove before grabbing a fistful of his shirt near the collar and pulling him into the apartment, towards the sofa. Billy let you pull him around, a grin on his lips as you pushed him down onto the sofa and straddled his lap. His hands found your hips, but he let you have your little moment of control because you both knew that, sooner or later, he was going to take charge.

Your fingers started to pull at the buttons of his shirt, one by one, slowly revealing the hot skin beneath. Your hips rocked slowly, lips finding his neck, kissing and sucking skin and slowly heading down as more buttons came undone. When your cold hands ran down his chest, Billy squirmed, letting out an awkward huff of laughter. And, when your eyes finally caught his again, and you could see how he was looking at you, you knew just how much he wanted you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you told him as your fingers started to pull his belt and pants open.

“Fun’s only just starting, sweetheart,” Billy smiled, his fingers ghosting your cheek before slipping into your hair and pulling you down, into a deep and eager kiss.

Cold fingers freed his erection as you kissed, earning a hiss and a groan as you started to stroke him, loving how quickly he responded to your touch. Billy pulled you closer, kissed you harder, saying those familiar words without saying a thing; I want you, you’re mine. And you were. In that moment you were nothing but Billy’s.

A wicked thought occurred and your lips pulled into a smirk against his before moving to whisper in his ear; “I thought you said I deserved a spanking?”

The fingers in your hair gave a tug, pulling you back so he could look at you, and the look on his face had you biting your lip. His dark eyes were filled with a wanting that should’ve terrified you but, instead, you wanted to sate it, you wanted to fulfil his every desire, no matter how dark.

Your fingers continued to stroke him, never faltering as you held his gaze, defiant and unafraid. You wanted him to see that you weren’t scared of him, you weren’t afraid of the ways he wanted you.

Billy took a slow breath before releasing his grip on your hair and commanding; “stand up.”

You did as you were told without hesitation, climbing from his lap and standing in front of him.

“Take off your dress.” He commanded and you obeyed, pulling the off-the-shoulder number down and letting it fall to the floor, exposing your bare breasts and a pair of blue lace panties. When your hands moved to your panties, he stopped you; “leave the panties... and your heels.”

Your cheeks warmed as you dared to look down at yourself, not noticing that Billy’s eyes also moved down your body, taking in the sight of you. Then he sat forward a little, patting his lap, silently telling you what you needed to do. You crawled over his lap without question.

Then came an odd stillness; he was waiting for you to change your mind, you realised. No chance. You glanced over your shoulder at him, smiling as you started to provocatively wiggle your ass from side to side until he finally touched you. Heat from his hand bled through the lace of your panties to your skin, but Billy didn’t waste any time before slipping between your thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you were so wet?” His fingers found your swollen clit beneath the wet fabric and started to tease, running circles around it, causing you to completely soak through your panties.

“Billy,” you moaned, “please…”

You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but Billy seemed to know.

“All this ‘cause you want a spanking?” You nodded and he grinned. “It’s supposed to be a punishment, not a turn-on.”

“So punish me then,” you challenged.

If he had a clever answer for that, he kept it to himself in favour of swinging back his hand and landing the first sharp slap on your ass. A shocked cry slipped from your lips, but the look on your face told him everything he needed to know; you didn’t want him to stop.

By the time you felt the fourth slap, your cries had turned to moans, but you knew he was holding back, that he was being as gentle as he could be, and that was fine. You realised that it wasn’t so much the act that had you crying out his name, it was the fact that you trusted him, completely and utterly. And it felt good to give up control, to allow yourself to just feel without overthinking and worrying.

You were safe with Billy.

When he stopped, he left you with a wonderful kind of ache, his hand slipping beneath lace to tenderly soothe you. Overwhelmed by him, by the moment, you could barely lift your head to look at him, but you heard his name spill from your lips.

You barely noticed his hands tearing your panties, all you could think about was the delicate way he was touching you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, if I’d known you were into this I would’ve had you over my knee a long time ago,” he muttered as his hand slipped between your thighs again, fingers running through your arousal. You trembled as his fingertips grazed your wet slit, giving away just how close to coming you had been while he was spanking you. Billy didn’t hesitate, sinking two fingers into you with ease and slowly starting to fuck you with them, filling you to the knuckle with every thrust. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m going to take good care of you and this needy little pussy.”

“Please, Billy...” You moaned, back arching.

“No one else is ever gonna make you feel as good as I do,” he told you in that barely restrained tone that sent a thrill up your spine, “because you’re mine.”

“Yes,” you moaned as his fingers bent inside you and his thumb grazed your clit, “I’m yours, Billy.” The admission seemed to come from nowhere, but you didn’t notice and, frankly, you didn’t care. You were too drunk on the moment to think about anything other than Billy.

“Yeah, you are,” he practically cooed, obviously enjoying the more needy, submissive side of you, “this sweet little pussy is all mine now.”

“All yours,” you mewled as his fingertips hit just the right spot.

No one had ever made you feel like this before. You felt so good, so his, as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. Moans started to stack, and your eyes rolled back the closer you got to falling apart. You hardly noticed his fingers in your hair again until they gave a gentle tug, urging you to look back at him. A possessive noise slipped from him when he saw your face, so intoxicated by him and what he was doing to you.

“You really are mine now, aren’t you?” As if he hadn’t really believed it until that moment.

“Yes, Billy,” you moaned, finally realising what you were saying, what you were admitting. “I’m all yours.”

His thumb pressed against your clit again causing you to writhe on his lap, so unashamedly desperate for everything he was doing to you, your moans getting louder as his fingers moved faster, finally pushing you over the edge.

As you came, his fingers kept moving, dragging your pleasure out for as long as he could, holding your gaze as you moaned his name, over and over. Finally, you sagged, feeling boneless, half on the sofa, half still draped across his lap. His fingers stayed inside you while his other hand slipped from your hair and returned to gently soothing the redness on your ass.

Billy watched as your breathing started to slow, remaining silent, giving you time to process everything that had just happened and all the little admissions you’d let slip. When you finally had the strength to move, he let his arousal slickened fingers slide from your body and lifted them to his lips, sucking every last trace of them from you while you sat up.

“I love the way you taste,” he smirked, licking his lips in a way that made your pulse race.

You leaned in to kiss him, to taste for yourself, sucking his tongue before deciding there was something else you’d rather do with your mouth.

His dark gaze held yours as you slipped between his legs and knelt on the floor before him. Your hand reached for his cock, giving his shaft a couple of lazy strokes before parting your lips and leaning in. You took just the tip at first, tongue greedily lapping up the pre-cum that had started to leak from him.

Billy moaned your name, his fingers tangling in your hair again and pressing down. You didn’t hesitate, giving him exactly what he wanted, your lips sinking down his length.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he groaned, “I love when you blow me.”

You loved it too. You never felt more powerful than you did in moments like this, moments where you got to bring him pleasure.

Guided by the push and pull of his hand, your head started to bob, dragging your lips up and down him and, after you’d had a chance to relax, you managed to sink right down, taking every inch of him. He held you there for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on yours, holding your attention while his free hand reached for his phone. You didn’t even notice it until the camera was pointed at you and he looked at you like he was asking permission and, when you didn’t stop, didn’t try to pull away, he had his answer.

You didn’t know if he was recording or taking photos but your eyes stayed fixed on his, wanting him to know that he was the only thing that mattered to you. Soon enough you were moaning around his cock, taking every inch, over and over, while his grip on your hair guided you up and down, completely taking control, taking what he wanted from you. And you were happy to let him, wanting to give him the same mind blowing pleasure he’d just given you.

Every breath he took was soon punctuated with a moan, with your name, a plea that only you could drag from him. When you felt him getting close, you reached between his legs, fingers lightly squeezing his balls and earning a guttural moan from him that had your thighs clenching.

A grunt was all the warning you got before he fell apart, spilling onto your greedy tongue. Your lips stayed wrapped around him, listening as he groaned and swore, not pulling back until he was completely finished. And, as his cock slipped from your lips, you made a point of licking your lips for the camera.

It took a few moments to finally kick off your heels and climb back onto his lap, resting your head against his shoulder as he caught his breath. Billy’s arm pulled around you, holding you tight, but neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to just hold each other.

“You okay?” He finally asked, his hand starting to trail up and down your back.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You muttered, shifting your head on his shoulder so you could see his face.

“Well, that was a lot of firsts for us and...” it only lasted a second, but his hesitation had your stomach knotting, “I know I can be a lot and that I sometimes want a lot, and I don’t -”

“Billy,” you stopped him the moment you realised what he was trying to say, “if you’ve got poor impulse control, then so do I, because I wanted all of this just as much as you.” You lifted your head so you could look at him, so he could see how serious you are. “Tonight has been - it’s been amazing.”

The sigh of relief that escaped him was almost enough to break you.

“Tonight was easily the best night of my life,” he told you, his lips pulling into a beautiful but cocky smile, “and I’ve got the video evidence to prove it.”

Your cheeks immediately started to warm. “You won’t show anyone, will you?”

“Sweetheart, the only one that gets to enjoy you sucking my cock is me.” And you believed him, you believed that possessive tone in his voice. “Is it okay? I mean, me recording you? I can delete it -”

“It’s okay,” you told him, voice turning quiet, almost shy despite everything you’d just done, “I - I liked it. It made me feel... I dunno, dangerous.”

“You’re never in any danger when you’re with me.” And for the first time in your life, you really did feel safe, but you didn’t know how to put any of it into words beyond what you’d told him earlier but you never felt safer than when you were in his arms. “You know that, right? That I’d never let anyone hurt you -- that’d I’d kill anyone that ever tried.” A shudder ran up your spine at the way he said it, like the prospect of taking a life meant nothing to him if it was to keep you safe. And, as terrifying as the thought was, it only made you love him more.

“I know, it’s just...”

“What?”

“This - us - it’s still all so new, and I’m scared that I’ll do something wrong.” Your gaze dropped, but Billy didn’t let you look away for long, his hands finding your cheeks and urging you to look at him again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“There’s nothing you could do that would make me leave you,” his dark eyes stared directly into yours as he spoke and there was a pain there, something you didn’t recognise but immediately wanted to soothe. “Every time you’ve walked away from me, I’ve felt so fucking empty - the kind of empty that I can’t fill with money or expensive things, the kind of empty that hurts so fucking much. It scares me how much I want you. I never wanted anyone ‘til I met you.”

“No one?” You finally dared ask the question that had been burning in your mind since this whole thing had started. Of course, you knew that there had been plenty of other women, but you didn’t know how much he’d felt for them. Billy shook his head.

“I never thought I wanted to get attached - I always thought it was just easier to be on my own, to have people just see me as a playboy and never let anyone really get to know me,” his fingers tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “but then you happened, sweetheart.”

The words caused a swell of warmth in your chest, something that made you want to hold him tight and never let him go.

“So, with the others... it wasn’t like us? You didn’t - y’know...”

“Spank any of them until they were almost coming all over my lap?” He asked with that infuriatingly amused smile on his lips. “Make them moan my name in a crowded party?” Your cheeks felt warm again and you wondered how he could manage to keep a serious tone. “No, sweetheart, what we have - it’s never been like that with anyone else. Have you -”

“No,” you answered quickly. Too quickly. “Everything feels brand new with you, like the past doesn’t matter, and that’s all I want.”

Before he could answer, before he could even think to ask what you meant, your lips were on his again, pressing him back against the sofa. You didn’t want to think about the past, just the present and the future that you might have with Billy. Things quickly turned heated, and Billy was soon pulling you close and holding you tight, groaning as your hips started to move again. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock, hard and ready between your thighs.

“Fuck, Billy, I love how hard you get for me,” you panted when the kiss finally broke, needily grinding against his cock..

His lips quickly started to trail downwards, wet kisses and the scrape of teeth on skin, down your neck and collar bone. You back arched instinctively the further down he roamed, offering your breasts to him and, as expected, Billy gladly accepted. Reaching for his phone, you opened the camera as his lips sealed around a nipple, and started to record him. There was a strange feeling of power to it, something that made you feel sexy in a way you didn’t often get to feel, recording yourself writhing on his lap while he sucked and nipped at your nipple.

Billy didn’t realise that you were recording him until you awkwardly reached between your bodies to steady his cock enough to sink down onto it. He moaned, lips pulling away from your chest as you took every inch of him. The grin that pulled at his lips when he noticed his phone in your hand had your heart racing, and when his hands moved to grip your hips, you knew that he was going to put on a good show for the camera.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunted, “my sweet little pussy, so tight and wet for me.”

Your body clenched around him, knowing that everything he said, every sound you made, would all end up in the recording.

“I’m yours, Billy. This sweet little pussy is just for you.” You panted, riding him harder and faster, directed by his hands on your hips, moaning every time he drove his cock into you. His lips returned to your nipples while his fingers found your swollen clit, and it quickly became overwhelming, every moan and cry louder than the last. Everything went white as you shattered around him, crying out his name as you fell apart so completely. You didn’t even realise you were being moved until your back was pressed down onto the sofa and Billy’s body covered yours, his phone hanging loosely from your hand at your side, now only capturing the sounds you were both making.

He fucked you hard and deep, laying claim to you, reminding you that you were his, even though you didn’t need the reminder.

“Harder,” you heard a voice groan. It wouldn’t be until a lot later that you realised it was you. Other pleas fell from your lips and he granted your every demand, fucking you in a way that you knew had ruined you for other men.

Billy managed to pull another orgasm from you before his own hit, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him as he emptied himself inside you, each twitch drawing another moan from you. He practically collapsed on top of you, and your hands moved to his back, gently caressing sweat slicked skin while you both struggled to catch your breath.

“Fuck...” he muttered, his face buried against your neck. “I never want to get used to how good that feels.”

You didn’t have a response for him, you didn’t have anything to say - you’d both already said so much that you didn’t think you needed to say anything. Instead you closed your eyes and listened to the sounds of him breathing, knowing without a doubt that you were in love with him and that you were the happiest you’d ever been.

“Billy,” you finally muttered, exhausted, “take me to bed?”

And he did just that, quickly scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom, tenderly placing you in bed before crawling in beside you and gathering you up in his arms. A contented sigh left him as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

He held you tight - he always held you tight as you fell asleep, but this time it felt different, it felt like he was clinging to you, like he didn’t want to let go.

“Billy, if you hold me any tighter I won’t be able to breathe,” you muttered with a sleepy laugh.

“You don’t need to breathe,” he answered back, sounding exhausted, “you just need me.”

“Think I need you more than air,” you confessed quietly, your hand finding his pressed against your stomach.

“Good.” The word hung in the air between you for a few seconds. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I don’t ever want to not have you in my life.”

Your hand squeezed his while your heart pounded in your chest; he wasn’t saying the words, wasn’t telling you that he loved you but, for Billy, it felt close, it felt like maybe he could feel that way after all.

“I’m not going anywhere.” A ragged breath shook his body and you gave his hand another gentle but reassuring squeeze. “I’m yours, Billy.”

“Yeah, you’re mine.” Billy muttered softly, finally falling silent and allowing you to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

END NOTES : Well, it took sixteen chapters and she's finally admitted to really having feelings for him to his face. The next chapter is going to be similar to this one (sort of smutty but some character/relationship development thrown in) and it'll be up same time next week.

Again (and always) thanks for the comments, reblogs, likes, follows -- and even if you don't do those things and you just read, thanks anyway.

I know I'm not the greatest at remembering to respond to things but, honestly, thank you. I never thought I'd get to 100 followers or have even half as many people reading this fic when I started.

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim @arwensloanebarnes

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #cmiyc ff #billy russo imagine

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vintagetvstars · 20 days

Text

Avery Brooks Vs. James Earl Jones

Propaganda

Avery Brooks - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Spenser: For Hire) - ben sisko absolute all time tv dilf and have you heard him SPEAK... the stage background absolutely shows and it truly makes him a standout in a legacy franchise *full* of incredibly talented people. also frankly top 3 all time sexy bald guy

James Earl Jones - (Paris, Gabriel’s Fire, Pros and Cons) - No text propaganda

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Avery Brooks:

youtube

Avery is a certified TV sci-fi hottie as Benjamin Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The first black star trek Captain, he also negotiated his signature look - the bald head and goatee - against haters who thought a Captain should always be clean-shaven. Thank God for that, because he looks devastatingly hot in a a goatee (a phrase never before uttered). He went on to direct several episodes of DS9, use his pleasant voice to record music and multiple host documentaries, and mostly retire from acting to teach as a professor.

TW: Flashing

youtube

with that wonderful stentorian baritone voice he could move from intimidating commander to gentle and compassionate space dad...benjamin sisko is a man of many qualities, thoughtful, morally complex, understatedly hilarious, a lil unhinged, really really excited about baseball, and avery brooks never fails to breathe life, depth and dimension into the character and also did i mention his voice. fun fact he was a professor of theater arts at rutgers while filming deep space nine and would occasionally teach classes via vhs tapes recorded on set, complete with starfleet uniform. he also directed a number of ds9 episodes including notable ones like "rejoined" and "far beyond the stars", and performed many of his own stunts as sisko. stunt coordinator dennis madalone said, "of all the stars that I've worked with on all the Star Treks, and all the other shows that I've been on other than Star Trek, I've never seen an actor so physically capable of just doing everything...every time I'd bring in a stunt double, he'd be angry, sitting on a bench, because Avery was doing so great." he's also a distinguished stage actor and an accomplished musician and singer who's performed everything from jazz to opera. science has yet to discover whether there's anything this man can't do.

youtube

#vintage tv stars poll #tv men 2 #avery brooks #james earl jones #Youtube

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la-petite-lapin · 5 months

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Double the Love | Part Nine

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, swearing, mentions of nudity, mentions of sexually explicit content, OC has anxiety, communication, polyamory, M/M/F

A conversation and a confession

Simon doesn't say anything for a while. I sit next to him silently, waiting for the words I know are coming. Knowing that they're going to hurt.

I've accepted it. They're probably going to want to move out after this. God - how am I going to explain this to John...

"We thought you needed space today," Simon starts softly, his gentle tone soothing a part of me that I didn't know needed soothing. "We... I've messed up today. I should have shown you more affection. I shouldn't have let you doubt this."

I blink up at him, dazed and bewildered. He's going to have to spell this one out for me.

Like he's reading my mind, he explains, "We really like you, Tali. We didn't want to scare you away after how intense last night was." There's another beat of silence as he glances at Johnny, still fast asleep, and adds, "I think this a conversation that all of us need to be present for."

They like me.

The realisation sets in like a freight train. They really like me.

A giddy feeling somewhere between excitement and confusion creeps in, all but erasing the sadness I felt just moments ago. Simon looks at me, head cocked to one side like he can sense the heavy mix of emotions swirling around inside of me. There's a glimmer in his hazel eyes as he carefully watches my expression.

"Can we... can we wake him up now, please?" I know that it's selfish, but I need to know that this is resolved. I need to know that they both feel the same so that we can move on. So that I can think and plan and mentally prepare myself for what people are going to say.

Oh God.

What are John and Gaz going to think? The people I work with? I'd like to think that I don't really care about the opinions of others, but I do. Deep down, I do. Strangers can be judgemental and mean - especially where poly relationships are concerned. Shit, what about PDA? That's going to draw unwanted attention and...

"Hey, love." Simon gently squeezes my hand with his, scarred fingers surprisingly gentle against my much smaller ones. "Where did ya go?"

I swallow, suddenly aware of how dry my throat is, and how my knees are shaking. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About this. Us." When he squeezes my hand again, I carry on, shifting closer to him on the sofa until I'm tucked seamlessly against his side. "People are going to judge us."

There's a pause before Simon does something that surprises me. He barks out a laugh. A loud, gruff laugh that startles me for a second, almost making me jump.

I look up at him like he's gone mad, and he looks back at me, eyes twinkling with humour as he smirks. "You really think that's going to be what they focus on, princess? I walk around in public, 6'7, dressed in all black with a bloody mask on. Johnny's hardly a wallflower either. You really think people will be rushing to judge the sweet, beautiful woman walking around beside us?"

Well, when he put it that way, I suppose they wouldn't.

"I mean, there's always going to be a chance that some people will, but fuck 'em. I've caught enough stares to last me more than a lifetime. 's like water off a duck's back." Some of the amusement leaves his tone, eyes solemn again for a moment as he adds, "But seriously, love, if they don't know us, then why should we bother what they think? It's something Johnny said to me when we first started going out. I used to get so fucking stressed out about people looking at us and whispering shit. Just wanted to rip their heads clean off their shoulders. But it's not our problem - it's theirs."

I nod slowly. It seems to simple when he says it like that. I know it won't be, but it gives me hope. Hope that - one day - I'll be as nonchalant about it as Simon is.

There's a grumbling sound from the other end of the sofa. One that draws both of our attention. "Wha's all this about problems and heads?"

Si and I look across at the same time, meeting a pair of heavy-lidded, confused bright blue eyes.

"...and so Tali thought we weren't interested, and that we were ignoring her," Si says, rounding off his summary-version of our conversation to a now wide-awake Johnny.

"Right," the Scotsman says, cradling a mug of black coffee like it's his firstborn. "Well, respectfully, tha's a bunch of shite." He turns to me with wide eyes, and I try not to look sheepish. "Ye know that now, right?"

I offer him a small smile. "Right," I repeat.

The three of us are still in the living room - myself tucked back into my armchair, and the two of them sitting on the sofa facing me. There are some important matters that need to be discussed, questions that need to be asked, and ground rules that need to be laid. Things that won't get done if I'm sitting next to either of them. It'd be all too easy to get lost in their eyes, snuggle up to their ridiculously toasty body heat and drag them back into their room for round three.

I need to stay focused for this.

"So, what does this make us?" I ask, hoping that I don't sound as nervous as I feel. I'm surprised that I'm not physically shaking.

Johnny shrugs, glancing from Si back to me again before saying, "Our girlfriend. Partner. Take yer pick," just as Simon says, "Whatever you want us to be."

"I think I'd like to be your girlfriend, if that's okay." When they voice their more than enthusiastic approval, I turn to my next question, a nervous smile forming on my lips. "What will you tell John and Kyle?"

Simon frowns at my obvious hesitance, the movement tugging at the scars around his mouth. "Captain Price we can leave to you, if you're more comfortable that way. And Gaz... we can tell him we're together whenever you want. He's pretty open-minded."

I swallow thickly. "They're both coming over at the weekend."

There's a beat of silence before Johnny starts laughing. "Making plans with our friends without us already, lassie? We've only been together for half-an-hour."

My cheeks heat up and I fight the urge to get embarrassed. "John made then plans, not me."

Simon grins. "I think it's cute. It's good that you get along with Gaz; he's a nice lad."

We're getting side-tracked!

I clear my throat, all business once again. "There's something else that I need to tell you."

They both look at me, expressions holding varying degrees of concern and blind acceptance. They're looking at me like I hung the moon.

I know that it probably won't change the way that things are between the three of us, but I'm still nervous. Because - technically - I've been lying to them since we met.

They still don't know that I'm Alex's sister.

"Did Price ever tell you how he and I met?"

The question hangs in the air between us. I watch as it dawns on them: he never did. Regardless the pair stay silent, giving me the space to take a deep breath and continue on.

"We met over a year ago, when he came to inform me that my brother had died."

Simon's face turns a sickly greyish-white hue. "You- you never told me that he was military."

On the other side of the sofa, Johnny's expression darkens. "I didn't even know that ye had a brother." He pauses, eyes locking onto mine as he says, "But... if the Captain came to tell ye, tha' means... he was somethin' to do with our lot."

Si's head starts shaking before I can even get the next part of my confession out, like he knows exactly where this is all about to go. "My name - my full name - is Talia Keller. And my... my brother's name was Alex. Operations Officer Alex Keller."

Johnny lets out something between a groan and a choking noise. My heart is beating in my throat, palms clammy and chest too tight. Simon isn't even looking at me anymore; he's looking at the floor, the walls, the ceiling... anywhere but me.

"I... how? Alex never told us he had a sister." Simon sounds borderline frantic. I try not to let that statement hurt me; try to remind myself that it has no bearing on the love that my brother felt for me. Catching the look on my face, Simon adds a broken, "I didn't mean it like that."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he wanted me to walk over to him and tell him that it's all a lie. One big, sick joke. That I actually met John through a friend of a friend, or some other totally normal circumstance. Not via a death notification.

"Calm down, Si," Johnny says suddenly, his soft, placating tone cutting through the room. "Calm down and let our lass talk." Blue eyes lock onto mine, offering me endless reassurance. "Carry on, love."

I clear my throat, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at my sides as I will myself not to cry. "Our parents died when we were young, and Alex joined the army when I was still just a kid. He was all I had left after our grandmother passed. And - when he died - John came to the flat to tell me he was gone." I remember the crushing weight of the loneliness I felt in those days that followed, and it brings a weak, bitter smile to my lips. "But he didn't just tell me and go. He left his number and he made an effort to be there when I needed him. He pulled me into his life; kept reaching out even when I was too stubborn to see that I really needed him around."

Johnny frowns, and I can see the unshed tears shining in his eyes. "But... why didn't ye tell us, love?"

I shake my head, my own tears falling freely. "I don't know," I say, honestly meaning it. "I just... I don't know. Maybe I thought it would be easier? So that you wouldn't pity me for it?"

Before Johnny can reply, Simon is standing up - crossing the living room with long, precise strides. He scoops me up from the armchair, cradling me in his big, muscular arms. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck to hide myself away from the world, letting the tears pour out.

"We don't pity you, princess," Simon says, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. I can hear the sofa creaking softly as Johnny stands up. Can feel his fingers brushing through my hair. "Just wish you'd told us sooner, that's all."

I peel myself away from Simon long enough to manage two words before I'm burying my face back into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, lovie," Johnny coos. "There's nothin' to be sorry about."

Once we've all calmed down, Simon announces that it's time we all head off to bed. It's gone 11 and not only do I have work tomorrow but they have to nip across to the base for a meeting, so he has a point.

As Johnny and Simon rattle around the apartment, double-checking that they locked the front door when they came in earlier, and making sure all the windows are shut, I start to head off to my room. The room I sleep in alone.

"Um, where do ya think ye're going, lassie?" a voice calls out from the top of the hallway. I turn around to see Johnny standing there, his broad frame practically filling the space as he folds his arms across his massive chest.

I let out a quiet squeak. "Bed?"

Simon appears behind him, resting his chin on top of his boyfriend's - our boyfriend's - head. "Nice try. Get your arse into bed. I'm not in the mood to chase you tonight." With an adorable flash of vulnerability softening his battle-hardened features, he adds, "I want to cuddle."

Melting inside, I backtrack down the hallway and push their door open, hopping into what used to be my bed.

After a few minutes, I doze off, and when I open my eyes again, I'm bracketed on both sides by the warm, muscular bodies of my boyfriends. I try not to giggle like a teenage girl internally, but it does a lot to shake off the remaining sadness lingering from our conversation about Alex.

I roll over, accidentally slamming face-first into Simon's bare chest. Instead of whining about it, he grumbles, "Are you going to sleep like that?"

I blink, pulling away to glance down at myself. After I flopped down onto the mattress, I hadn't thought to take off my clothes. Or find myself anything suitable to sleep in.

"No?"

Simon chuckles indulgently, joined swiftly by Johnny - his rock-hard chest vibrating against my back.

"Jesus, lassie, just sleep naked like us. 's easier," the Scotsman says, drawing my attention to the fact that they are both indeed naked. "Saves us havin' to move wardrobes around."

I ignore him, kicking off my jeans before pulling my shirt off over my head. I lay still for a moment before something occurs to me - another question I forgot to ask earlier. A glaringly obvious one.

"What happens after Johnny's stitches have healed?"

Silence fills the room. It makes me wonder if it's something they've been wondering too.

Johnny speaks first. "Tha' depends, lassie. We'd have to ask Captain Price. An' it depends on ye, and want ye wanna do. But we'll both have to return to active duty."

Before I can ask what that looks like for them, Simon clarifies, "That means we'll be out on assignments more often." I don't think I'm imagining the heavy note of sadness that weighs heavy in his voice as he adds, "Sometimes we'll both be gone for weeks at a time, with no way of getting in touch with you."

As much as I hate it, I've already made my peace with that part. The bit that I don't get is the living situation. When they are here, I'd like to stay with them. I can live in the flat while they're away, but what about when they aren't? It's not fair on Winnie to have all four of us staying here, encroaching on her space. This apartment is just as much her home as it is mine.

"Do you two have a place together?" I ask, more out of curiosity than anything. I highly doubt it, since they ended up here with me in the first place.

Simon shakes his head. "We never saw a need for one. When we're in the country, we stay in the barracks with the other soldiers." A frown forms on his lips and I pull back a little further so I can comfortably cup his jaw. I smooth my thumb along the length of his cheekbone. "But I don't think that's a place that I'm happy with you being in."

I open my mouth to protest but Johnny's hand appears from behind me, swatting the air between us. "Can we talk about this in the mornin'? Some of us would like to sleep."

With a soft giggle, I roll over again and press a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, then his forehead, and the cheek not pressed against the pillow. I settle my head into the gap underneath his chin, feeling the comfortable weight of Simon's arm come to drape over my waist and onto Johnny's. I can hear the sound of them kissing goodnight over my head, and it warms my heart even more than I thought I would.

Sandwiched between the two of them, I doze off again.

a/n: hi guys! I felt bad leaving you on a cliffhanger with that last one, so here's part 9 :) thank you so much to everyone for the kind words and support, both on posts and through messages, it does mean a lot 🧡 - lapetitelapin x

#cod #cod fanfic #ghoap x reader #fanfic #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #johnny x oc x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #ghost x oc x soap

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taurusdaylight · 2 years

Text

seven days to say i love you

summary. you and jeno can't get enough of spending time together even when you are practically glued to each other's side at any given opportunity. but spending seven days a week for eternity with your favourite person doesn't sound like a bad idea, right?

pairing. college boyfriend! jeno x fem! reader

genre. hockey player! au, college! au, established relationship! au, friends to lovers! au, fluff

word count. 5,108

warnings/tags. none, this is 423% fluff <3 (but please let me know if i did miss out anything!)

a/n. (repost because there was an error... 😔) but hi!! i'm so sorry for the inactivity, i was so busy and couldn't put out my fics like i wanted to. but i'm back with a small something (my first non-jaehyun fic,,) i wrote this a while back and changed like 3/4 of it, and i hope it'll be a fun read!! i also came back to 2.8k notes on jaehyun bolton fic (is that what we're calling it now? yes.) i don’t reply to every comment/reblog/tag because by the time i see them it’s already so late, but i promise i read through and appreciate every single one of them,, thank you a million times!!!!!! i am working on more stuff now that i'm a little more free... so, as jaehyun likes to say, to be continued... :) hope everyone is well!

–

01 MONDAY.

The beginning of the week never failed to come to you in a dreadful manner, as if to make sure that you felt the full force of what most people like to call the Monday blues. Whoever was in charge of making sure that you would experience it, they certainly did not miss you out today as well.

Not that you enjoyed seeing other people suffer, but if there’s one thing that you’re grateful for, it’s the knowledge that you’re probably not the only one who feels this way. Though, the blaring sound of your alarm ringing at seven in the morning is too eerily similar to having someone have a personal vendetta against you, serving as a very unfriendly reminder that it is also the start of the school week. Perhaps, your disdain for Mondays could be attributed to this… but there’s always an exception, right?

Despite your reluctance to attend your morning lecture, you were somehow seated in the lecture theatre by nine, giving you more than enough time to lay out your laptop and the reading materials that you needed for the lesson before it started.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Often only going to sleep when the sun is about to rise, Lee Jeno has an unhealthy habit of pulling all-nighters, which causes him to miss his alarm because he’d be so deep in his sleep that he would only be able to hear it after the seventh alarm has gone off, which by then, was most likely the time that he needed to leave his house if he wanted to reach on time. The worst part of this is that he was up all night for the sole reason of wanting to break his record in his mobile games; and he plays so many that even you find it difficult to keep up too. Even when you nagged at him and said that you would complain to his mum, Jeno often dismissed your words as empty threats, still not breaking his bad habit. Reading his text message to you about how he was going to be late again, you could only let out a helpless sigh as you left his message on read.

Jeno announces his appearance by quietly opening the backdoor of the lecture theatre thirty minutes later. He makes his way over to his seat next to you, genuinely appreciating how even though sitting in front is better for your eyesight, you still opted to sit around the last few rows so that it’s easier for him to join the lecture when he comes in late without causing a loud disruption to your peers.

“Good morning, pretty,” Jeno bends down to whisper in your ear. Removing his crossbody bag, he leaves it in the empty space between you two. Once he settles down, Jeno slides a Venti-sized Hazelnut Latte from Starbucks over to your side of the desk. The rest of the lecture goes by quickly with you and Jeno making silly commentaries about anything and everything.

“Why did you still get me coffee?” you ask Jeno after the lecture had ended, a deep frown etched on your face. “You were already running late, Jeno. You really didn’t have to.” Being late was one thing, and making an additional stop at the café is another, especially because you knew that it was definitely not on the way.

“Just because,” Jeno replies with a loving smile. The kind of smile where his eyes would curve into beautiful crescents, his pupils almost disappearing because of how wide he is smiling at you. The kind of smile that you’d never get tired of seeing, so much so that you wordlessly lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips to say thank you.

Perhaps you like Mondays. Mondays with Jeno where you learnt that words left unspoken speak much more volume in expressing one’s heart.

02 TUESDAY.

It’s Tuesday, which means that you and Jeno have some spare time to meet up and study at the café near campus before his hockey practice starts. Study dates with Jeno are admittedly not as productive as you expect them to be, mainly because you often distract each other from getting any actual work done. Because of this, the both of you become public nuisances of some sort, so you had no choice but to study at a café instead of the quiet library. Imagine getting kicked out of the library… that would be an embarrassing sight.

“Jeno, how do you work out the answer to question five? I wasn’t paying attention when Prof taught this...” You look over at Jeno with a sheepish smile, earning a chuckle from him. He isn’t even surprised by your question, guessing that you probably spaced out or dozed off during the lesson.

Without saying a word, Jeno tucks a pencil behind his ear and grabs a piece of rough paper before getting up and shifting to the empty seat next to you, leaving you confused. As if he could read your mind, Jeno speaks again before you could question him. “So that it’ll be easier to explain it to you," he mumbles.

Ironically, the close proximity between the two of you only makes it harder for you to focus, but easier for you to admire his handsome features. Puckered lips, furrowed eyebrows and his gold rimmed glasses slipping down slightly to rest on his nose bridge–Jeno couldn’t look any cuter in this moment as you watch him diligently scribble on the piece of paper. He is seemingly deep in thought about how he should explain this concept to you. Watching how focused Jeno was, you took the chance to lean in, giving him a peck on the cheek before retreating back quickly, chin resting on your palm as your gaze lingers on him, slyly pretending that nothing happened.

“You broke my train of thought!” he grunted. Jeno puts his pencil down and turns to you with an annoyed expression on his face, but swiftly looks back down on the scribbled paper upon making eye contact with you.

It only dawns on him now that you were staring at him the entire time.

“Don’t do that, you’re distracting me.” His voice is quiet, eyes basically glued to that piece of paper.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so handsome and cute.” You pause, seeing a bashful smile appear on his face. “Did you know that a guy is the most attractive when he’s focused?”

“Do you still want my help or not?” Jeno asks with a grimace in his voice.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’m sorry,” you apologise with a small smile. It was difficult to resist the urge of calling him cute again, but you decide not to tease him any further for the sake of his sanity.

“Good. Now pay attention, I need to leave for training soon and if you still don’t get it by then... that’s on you.”

Jeno lied. Even after long hours of training, he still went on FaceTime that night to thoroughly explain the concepts that you were unfamiliar with, not minding that he was practically fighting for his life trying not to fall asleep on you.

That Tuesday night, you went to sleep with the widest grin on your face. Heart carrying so much love for your boyfriend who coincidentally asked you out for the first time ever on a Tuesday too.

03 WEDNESDAY.

Wednesday's child is full of woe. If there was a sentence that could explain how you feel about this particular day, this would be it. Mid-week crisis should be an actual thing if it wasn’t already one. Not only did Wednesday feel like the longest day of the week, you’d also feel extremely restless, wishing nothing more than for the weekends to come quickly.

Back-to-back seminars for six hours with only a short forty-five minute break in between had to be the most unappealing thing known to mankind, and you’d most certainly file a complaint if it was possible. Then again, this is perhaps part of the university experience.

However, this still isn’t the most devastating part. What truly makes this a tragedy for you is that Jeno isn't there to accompany you through it all due to conflicting timetables. He also had training again, this time outside of school, which meant that he’d only be free after that.

You’re so used to being around Jeno all the time that you can’t seem to spend even the littlest amount of time away from him even though you pretty much see him almost every day of the week. Talk about being clingy.

The feeling’s mutual for Jeno though. Just like you, he seems to hate the idea of not being by your side too, evident from the numerous messages he sends throughout the day despite knowing that your replies would take longer than usual to come in.

You’re not complaining. Because in one way or another, you feel like that’s his way of being by your side, albeit not physically. It is his text messages of checking up on you and ensuring that you didn’t skip your meals that make this unbearable day a little more bearable. Most of all, you look forward to being on FaceTime with him at night, having him all to yourself after such a long day.

Jeno usually ends training at seven-thirty in the evening, but sometimes it could overrun till eight. Thereafter, he still has to travel home for an hour or so, get dinner and wash up. He hides this from you, but very often he attempts to rush home because he doesn’t want you to stay up too late waiting for him, and because he wants to talk after an entire day of not seeing you.

Jeno makes sure to call before eleven, always starting the conversation by telling you how much he misses you, as if he didn’t already tell you that through text. He goes on to ramble about his day, how he saw the time match the digits of your birthdate and it made him think of you, not forgetting to also ask you how did your day go. Not long after, you’d notice his breaths becoming louder, his speech slightly slurred, and that’s when you know that he’s going to fall asleep soon. Even so, you don’t say anything, simply watching him slowly fall into a deep slumber.

“Good night Jeno,” you whisper softly, careful not to wake him up and taking one last look at how peaceful he looks before ending the call.

04 THURSDAY.

Due to how busy the both of you were, you are grateful for the small gap that Jeno has between classes and practices, just so that you’d still be able to see his face. Once it's about time for him to leave, you get ready to say goodbye to Jeno with a warm hug , when he suddenly stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Do you want to watch me train?” he asks. “You can say no. But I just thought we could get dinner after so we can spend a little more time together,” Jeno adds, his thumb rubbing small circles against your knuckle. An air of expectancy fills the small booth that the both of you occupy in the reading room as he awaits your answer.

“I’d love to, Jen.” Flipping his hand over so that you could intertwine your fingers together, you jokingly rush Jeno to pack up his things, telling him how excited you are to finally sit in and watch him train for the first time ever. You’ve only ever heard funny anecdotes of his teammates from him every once in a while, and you’re beyond elated to finally meet the people who bring so much joy into his life.

On the way to the hockey rink, you ask Jeno more about the sport and various positions. You weren’t a sports person but thought that it’d be a good time to know more about it, especially because of Jeno’s immense passion towards hockey.

“So what position do you play?” you glance over at him with curious eyes.

“Centre,” he says, a sense of pride in his voice. Before you could ask him what that position entails, Jeno beats you to it with a rather cheeky explanation. “You just need to know that it’s called centre because I’m supposed to be the centre of your attention.”

True to his words, Jeno remains as the centre of your attention for the entire duration. You’d never admit this to him, but he becomes even more charming than he already is when he’s on the rink. Especially during the friendly match that his team had with a neighbouring school towards the end of practice, his entire demeanour changed so much that you’d think that you were watching an entirely different person.

The way Jeno plays is extremely captivating to watch. You’re not sure how he does it, but you can see him mentally strategizing his next move as the clock ticks. Even down to the last minute of the match, Jeno had not let his guard down, the fire in his eyes so prominent that anyone could see that he was determined to end this with a bang.

Skating across the rink, Jeno moves at the speed of light, making it hard for his opponents to catch him. He is the ace of the team after all, so it wouldn’t be that easy to mess with him. His eyes follow the puck, set on scoring yet another goal despite their favourable lead. The opponents are in full defence mode too, though it wouldn’t make much of a difference since there's too short of a duration left for them to catch up. Speedily, Jeno intercepts the puck from the opposing team, skating away at high speed, still vigilantly guarding the puck with his stick. With the help of his teammates who effectively block the opponent from getting to Jeno, he manages to catch both your eyes and heart in that moment, making you hold your breath in anticipation as he skilfully shoots the puck into the goal at the very last second.

In the matter of a few minutes, Jeno returns to his usual self, smiling widely and cheering loudly with his teammates to celebrate their victory. And of course, he turns to look at you, giving you a smile that holds some semblance of shyness. It’s fascinating to watch how different he is on and off the rink, but it also reminds you how in love you are with the many sides of him; those you have seen and those that you have yet to uncover.

As promised, Jeno takes you to the burger joint down the alley near your university afterwards. During dinner, he still reenacts the funny incidents that happened during training even though you were present when they occurred. Though, this sweet gesture admittedly warms your heart because it makes you feel even more included in his life, as though he is gradually inviting you to be a part of his world, just as you do the same when talking about your interests and hobbies with him.

Time seems to slow down whenever you’re with him but that’s okay because time is merely a social construct. What matters is that you get to spend time with Jeno, who is now walking you home. With his hand in yours, Jeno slows down his footsteps to match your pace. The atmosphere is filled with shared laughter, along with Sweet Nothing softly playing through Jeno’s airpods, both of you taking one side each. It would have been wired earphones, but a certain someone claims that it gets in the way… of what, he refuses to elaborate.

It is also a homely moment like this that makes the both of you wish that time could slow down even more as you basked in each other’s comforting presence, sharing the same sentiment of hoping that the walk to your house will last a little longer. Anything to prolong the time that you spend with each other, right?

05 FRIDAY.

Friday may be your favourite day of the week because it is when Jeno is finally free after three consecutive days of training. It is also movie night, where you and Jeno would take turns to go over to each other’s place every Friday evening.

It was a few weeks into freshman year, when the two of you made this pact after discovering that you were neighbours. How is it possible that you’ve never noticed Jeno before anyway?

Funny enough, it all began with you telling your mum that you made a new friend in college who goes by the name of Jeno. That name clearly rang a bell, prompting her to start narrating her grocery adventures with Jeno’s mother, excitedly telling you how close they were. In her words, “Jeno is a really sweet boy, I’ve been dying to introduce you to him but it slipped my mind so many times!” Gushing about the said boy, she hurried you to invite his family over for dinner, rushing into the kitchen herself to whip a meal up in no time.

The awkwardness of the dinner was enough to kill you from the inside, to say the least. Mothers being mothers, you had to admit that you were amazed at their ability to jump from topic to topic in the span of a few minutes. Together with Jeno’s and your father laughing, they also joined in the conversation from time to time. Meanwhile, you and Jeno sat in silence side by side, and spoke only when necessary.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can we excuse ourselves? It’s my first time at your house and I was wondering if ____ could show me around.” Jeno asked, giving your mum a polite smile as he glanced sideways at you momentarily.

“Of course! The two of you should get to know each other better. Ah, young lo–”

You cleared your throat, preventing your mum from completing her sentence. “Friendship,” she corrected herself.

Believe it or not, you had no idea how dramatic of a person she was up until this moment, or maybe it’s because there was something about Jeno that reeled in her overflowing sense of, you’re guessing, motherly love? That would also explain why the old ladies at the school cafeteria were so nice to Jeno, constantly giving him extra servings. You didn’t know what to think of Jeno’s suggestion since you’ve only known him for a few weeks, and being alone with him couldn’t be any better after having such an awkward dinner. At that time, however, it seemed like it was the next best alternative that you had.

“Let’s go.” You stood up abruptly to disrupt the conversation so that the adults (specifically, your mum) would not have an opportunity to say anything else to make the atmosphere any weirder than it already was. Jeno trailed behind you like a lost puppy, quickly following you upstairs to your room.

“I’m so sorry, my mum doesn’t think before she speaks sometimes. I hope you don’t mind what she said.” You broke the silence, not knowing where this conversation was going exactly, suddenly regretting speaking at all. You took a quick look at Jeno, who was now leaning against the doorframe, standing quite a distance away from the edge of your bed where you were sitting.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a soft smile while shaking his head lightly.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” you asked, the smile on his face now replaced with a frown as he gave you a quizzical look.

“You’re still leaning against the door?” you asked again, even though it was meant to be more of a statement rather than a question.

Jeno bursted out laughing, “I thought I was making you uncomfortable!” He raised his hand to rub the nape of his neck. He moved away from the door to sit next to you, still leaving a small space between you two.

“Want to watch The Lion King?” you suggested, mindlessly browsing through Disney Plus.

“Are you kidding me?”

You creased your eyebrows in confusion. “No... why?”

“I love Lion King!” Jeno said a little too enthusiastically, his eyes widening at how there were so many movies in the world, yet you somehow suggested watching his favourite Disney movie.

With the awkward tension in the atmosphere finally gone, you and Jeno made yourselves comfortable on your bed. Unknowingly, the both of you scooted closer to each other’s side as the movie played. By the time the credits scene started to roll, the both of you were already fast asleep, your legs tangled with each other’s under the sheets.

And as most people would like to say, the rest is history.

However, Fridays weren’t just reserved for movie nights. Soon enough, Friday nights also turned into sleepover nights, which meant that other than your usual movie marathons, you and Jeno end up doing other things too.

Like now, the two of you just ended a karaoke singing session that you would most probably never have again. It was far too loud in the night for your neighbour’s liking, causing them to lodge a complaint, making you and Jeno permanently cross that out of your sleepover activities.

Jeno comes up with a better idea of setting up a cosy outdoor blanket fort in your backyard to lay on. The sense of tranquillity is like no other, you and Jeno having a heart-to-heart talk in hushed whispers with crickets chirping in the background.

In the end, you fall asleep first, feeling burnt out from the entire school week. Although Jeno knows that you’re already asleep, he still makes sure to pat your head lightly, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Good night angel,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around your waist before drifting to sleep.

06 SATURDAY.

Saturdays are without a doubt, the most exciting for you. As a matter of fact, dating Jeno is a thrill in itself; but what makes Saturdays exceptional is Jeno taking you out on proper dates.

You and Jeno have been together for slightly over three years now, yet every date always feels like the first. The butterflies in your stomach? They never go away.

Initially, going on a date with Jeno seemed to be nerve-wracking to you because he’d always bring you somewhere new. Naturally, you thought it was the suspense of not knowing what he planned that made you feel this way.

Deep down, however, you knew that you simply felt this way because it was… Jeno.

“Why don’t I have anything to wear?” you shout in exasperation to no one in particular as you rummage through the closet to find a perfect outfit for your date. It feels like Jeno has already seen you in everything that you own, and you’re this close to going on Pinterest for outfit ideas.

That is, until you hear a text notification sound from your phone. It was a text message from Jeno informing you that he's coming over in five minutes. You give up searching, hastily picking out a white turtleneck, layering an autumn brown velvet overall over it.

“You look pretty today.” This is the first thing that Jeno says to you when you open the door, once again leaning against the door frame with a mellow smile on his face. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks because of his compliment.

And there it is again, the butterflies. Lee Jeno looking as flawless as he could be, a cosmic latte dress shirt tucked with a pair of black pants along with a brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders, coincidentally matching your outfit. To top it off, he’s wearing a beret today too, suddenly making him look cuter. It’s as if he travelled back in time, turning into your Victorian boyfriend.

“But... why are you dressed like this?” Jeno asks, rudely interrupting your staring session.

“Why? Is there something wrong with my outfit?” you were perplexed by his sudden question. Did he not like it? Should you change out of it? He said you looked pretty though. Besides, what else were you going to wear? You stare intently at Jeno, anxious about what he's going to say next. You hope it isn’t something bad.

“I thought I told you we were going cycling...” He stops mid-sentence, brows raised as he purposefully gives you a once-over again.

The tension in your shoulders disappears upon hearing his words. You roll your eyes at him, pushing his right shoulder lightly. “You’re going to ride a bicycle in a leather jacket?”

“Nevermind, please pretend I never said that.” Jeno makes a sulky expression upon realising that he did not plan out his joke well. But he is also quick to shoot you an endearing smile. “I love your outfit, baby.”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute, Lee Jeno.” And that I love you.

Thank goodness though, you were definitely not prepared to make another mess out of your wardrobe to search for another outfit when you’ve painstakingly organised it ten minutes ago.

In many ways, dates with Jeno always feel like the first. A simple thing, like the slight brush of your shoulders against each other as you’re walking down a random shopping street was sufficient to send your heart racing. Jeno’s hesitation to hold your hand in a crowded amusement park even though he really wants to, but he doesn’t know when is the right time to grab it–you can feel it, he fumbles with his fingers, reaches out every now and then, but pulls back immediately when his fingers accidentally meet yours.

And the memory of today that you can’t seem to forget. It’s spring, so Jeno thought that it’s a perfect time to bring you to a flower field located at the outskirts of the city. He’d once seen you looking at pictures of it on Instagram, making a mental note about it before he went home to do more research that night.

It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Jeno to take pictures of you, but when the both of you arrived, he didn’t stop at all, you swear he probably has a thousand pictures of you just from today.

However, what surprised you more was that when you asked Jeno to pose in front of the daisy fields, he happily did, even though there was still a hint of shyness within him since he wasn’t exactly comfortable with being photographed at times. He even went as far as to ask the other visitors to help take pictures of the both of you together, which was something you usually did. It wasn’t something extravagant, but it sure was endearing, and you’re positive that discovering a new side of Jeno made you giddy. So giddy that you never knew how it was possible for your heart to be swelling with so much love for another person.

Just like how daisies symbolise new beginnings, you hope that it's the same for you and Jeno’s story too. To not have endings, but only new beginnings.

07 SUNDAY.

Being certified homebodies, you and Jeno wholeheartedly enjoy staying in. It is also perhaps an excuse for the both of you to cuddle and nap together. You’d think that by the end of the week, you’ll be tired of seeing Jeno’s face for the seventh time. You joke that you are, but in reality, you could never bring yourself to grow tired of being together with your favourite person.

You usually go over to Jeno’s house in the afternoon, which is the ideal time to take a nap. Sometimes, you prayed that it would rain, so that you’ll have an excuse to steal one of his hoodies. Even so, he lets you take them as and when you want to. What is he supposed to do, say no? Of course not.

Napping wasn’t supposed to be your favourite hobby, but if it meant that you could enjoy the warmth and comfort of being in Jeno’s embrace, then clearly, any other hobby in the world couldn’t possibly compare to it. Like a baby, you snuggle close to rest your head on Jeno’s chest, putting your arms around his neck, taking in his soft cotton scent. The faint sound of his heartbeat and gentle breathing lulls you to sleep, it is very much like a lullaby on its own.

The best feeling in the world is to wake up the same way you fell asleep–still in Jeno’s arms. Not wanting to awake him, you slowly loosen your arms from his neck. Carefully, you brush his hair to the side, getting a clearer view of his face as you tenderly caress the mole below his eye, and then his cheek. He has pretty eyelashes, you’ve come to notice.

“Jeno,” you call out softly, in hopes of waking him up, but not wanting to be too loud at the same time. You wanted to let him continue sleeping, but the sky is already dark.

“Jeno, it’s time to wake up,” you try again. The clock on his side table reads half past six in the evening, indicating that it is almost dinnertime. His eyes were still shut, but he let out a groggy sound to let you know that he was awake, mumbling something shortly after. You didn’t quite catch it, but you think that he asked you to let him sleep for another five minutes. Typical Jeno.

“But it’s time for dinner,” you try to sit up, only causing Jeno to hug your waist tighter. You could barely move an inch with the way he was holding you.

“Just five minutes.” You let out a sigh, giving in to him.

“Jeno?”

He hums in response, which you take as a cue to ask your question. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

His eyelids finally flutter open, sleep still evident in his eyes. He appears to be in deep thought about your question before he answers. “Yeah. I’d still love you.”

“Hmm…” You narrow your eyes at him. “That took you a while to answer.”

“I just woke up,” he retorts.

“Fine.” You close your eyes and move closer to Jeno’s body, enjoying how he feels like your personal human pillow.

“Okay but what if there were other cuter worms? Like if I weren’t your ideal worm girlfriend, would you still date me?”

“Baby…”

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