#Car Wash Service in Kitchener ON

[tandkcertifiedmobiledetailing]

T&KCertifiedMobileDetailing | Car Wash Service | Auto Detailing Service in Kitchener ON

We are your dependable and trustworthy go-to for exceptional Auto Detailing Service in Kitchener ON. Our experienced team pays meticulous attention to every inch of your car, transforming your vehicle into a showroom-worthy beauty. From hand washing to waxing, we restore the original shine and freshness of your vehicle. Moreover, acquiring our top-notch Car Wash Service in Kitchener ON, will give your car a superior look. We understand the importance of maintaining a clean and presentable vehicle, which is why we offer a comprehensive range of car wash packages. Our skilled professionals use high-quality cleaning products and advanced equipment to ensure a thorough and gentle wash. So, if you need our expert assistance, call us today.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

If you asked Simon what his love language was, he’d tell you with confidence that it was acts of service. Anything he could possibly do to make your life easier, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Your car is running low on fuel? No worries, he’ll get up before you have to go to work and fill your tank up. The water pressure in your shower not the best? No worries, he’ll go and fix it before you even mention it. You just sat down for dinner but you forgot your drink? You best believe he’s already up and getting it before it registers with you.

But if you were to ask anyone else in Simon’s life what his love language was, they’d all say the same thing. Physical touch.

Every time you were in the same room as him, Simon would always have his hands on you. Whether it be resting his hand on the small of your back, his hand resting on your thigh when sitting next to you, or subtly holding pinky’s when you walked…Simon ALWAYS had to be touching you.

Behind closed doors, even more so. If both of you were laying on the couch, Simon either had to have you in his arms, or his head would be resting on your lap.

If you were in the kitchen cooking or washing dishes, he’d be behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist. If the two of you were laying together in bed, he physically would not be able to sleep unless he was touching you in some way.

You couldn’t remember the last time you washed your own hair, let alone showered on your own when Simon was home.

Simon worshipped the ground you walked on. You were his muse, his lifeline, the absolute love of his life. Simon honestly didn’t realize how much he yearned for the warmth of your skin- but as long as you were near, as long as you were in contact with home in some way, Simon was happy.

If you ever asked him for space, he’d give it to you without a second thought. But neither of you ever wanted to be apart from one another when he was home.

Some people may call it clingy, but you knew better. It was just so uniquely…. Simon. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[eroselless]

─────────────── somebody else // 1

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [2.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist 

warnings: insecure reader

note: thank you to the anon that requested this! i absolutely loved writing this. although the anon didn’t specify if they wanted this as a multi-partner, i feel like i wouldn’t be able to do it justice with just one part. i tried my best to make this a little bit of a slow burn without dragging it out too much. happy reading!

The hum of the engines reverberates through the paddock as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. It casts long shadows over the track, the sky painted in soft pinks and purples. You huff as you move around the backroom, not yet used to the fast-paced world of Formula 1, the chaos that comes with each race still new to you. You’ve been working as part of the McLaren hospitality team for a few weeks now, moving from city to city, country to country as the season unfolds quickly. It is a demanding job, with long hours and high expectations, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You were introduced to the sport later in life, in your late teens. Your father had been involved in karting, often taking you to his races, but he had never considered going any further. You had grown accustomed to the roar of the cars, the smell of burning rubber, the palpable tension in the air – it became intoxicating, thrilling, and nerve-wracking. You had slowly pushed yourself to become more involved, snagging a job that you had anticipated for a long time. Working in F1, even just in hospitality, was a dream that could open doors for you.

Like any other race weekend, you are on your feet from sun up till sun down. You ensure that everything runs smoothly for all the guests that come and go in the McLaren suite. You move through the crowds with a practiced grace, offering smiles and the most attentive service to VIPs, sponsors, and team members alike.

You reach over the table, pouring out champagne to a group of executives, feeling a tinge on the back of your neck. Glancing up, you can feel someone’s eyes trained on you. There is a rush of chatter, a group of young children, all dressed in matching orange attire.

You see Lando standing among them, a smile on his face as he speaks to them. His eyes flicker up to you, attention divided as he tries his best to keep track of what a young boy is telling him and watching you move around the room.

It becomes harder to ignore as the day drags on, his gaze following you whenever he comes in and out of the suite. You try to think nothing of it; you are one of a handful of servers, you would be noticed, of course. It is nothing, right?

“Need a hand with that?”

The sound of Lando’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you slightly. You turn from your spot at the bar, a tray of empty glasses in your hands, ready to be sent to the kitchen for washing. He leans casually on the counter, fingers fiddling with a homemade bracelet he undoubtedly got from a fan. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a familiar and warm glint you’d only ever seen from afar. He gestures to the other tray that sits on the bar, equally as full as the one you’re carrying, a lopsided grin on his face.

Forcing a smile, you try your best to push down the flutter in your chest. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

Lando leans in slightly, his voice low. “I’m sure you can, but it never hurts to have a little help, right?”

His close proximity makes your stomach burst with butterflies, but you keep your composure. You shift one tray in your hands, holding up one before grabbing the other one and balancing it on your fingers. “I appreciate the offer, really, but you’ve got a race to focus on. Can't have you getting distracted.”

“Maybe I like distractions,” he quips, his gaze following you as you begin to move away from the bar. He meets your eyes as he raises his eyebrows. “Plus, I’m pretty good at multitasking—driving fast and helping with drinks. Can’t be that different, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the smile that threatens to pop out. You shake your head as you take another step, breaking away from his stare. “I’ll keep that in mind when I see you out on track.”

He chuckles, his laugh warm and genuine. “You do that. And I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

With that, he saunters off, leaving you standing there slightly confused and trying to process what had just happened. As you watch him go, he turns back slightly to give you another smile and a nod before exiting through the front doors. You can’t help but feel lightheaded as you make your way to the kitchen, biting your lip as you do. Jesus Christ, what was that?

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity, the memory of Lando’s casual smile lingering in your mind. It doesn’t leave your thoughts as you continue to run into him at the next few races. He pops in before the day descends into full chaos to see how you’re doing and checks on you at the end of the day, always ready with something to make you feel lighter on a stressful race day.

You find yourself expecting his presence, your banter becoming a regular part of your day, a little slice of normalcy in the otherwise hectic and fast-paced environment. He teases you about your work, making light-hearted comments about how serious you’ve become or how you’re in the know about everyone’s gossip. He pulls you into hugs or gives your nose or cheeks a gentle pinch whenever he gets the chance. In return, you tease him about his racing, jokingly offering tips on how to handle certain corners or shave a couple of seconds off his lap times.

One afternoon, he slides into an empty seat, panting as he sinks into the chair. “Hey, you,” he greets, pulling his hat off and placing it on the table in front of you. “Busy day?”

“You could say that,” you reply, glancing up from your work. “How about you? Surviving the media circus?”

“Barely,” he jokes, rolling his eyes. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, smiling. “I guess so. You seem to handle it well, though.”

He shrugs, that easy grin still in place. “It’s all about keeping a cool head. Speaking of which, how about you? How are you handling everything?”

“Me?” you question. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” he says, his tone sincere. “Seriously, everyone’s noticed how well you’ve fit in around here.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment, and you duck your head, suddenly interested in a spot that won’t come off a spoon. “Thanks, Lando. That means a lot.”

There’s a brief silence, the kind that’s beginning to feel familiar between the two of you—comfortable, yet charged with something unspoken. You can feel his eyes on you, observing your gentle movements. When you finally look up, he’s still watching you, a tranquil expression on his face. It makes your heart skip a beat, his blue-green eyes almost admiring you.

“So, what are your plans after this?” he asks, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to reveal that his gaze is melting your resolve. “Maybe just relax, take in the sights. I haven’t really explored much outside of work.”

His smile widens. “Well, if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

You laugh, gratefully nodding at him, but your mind races with possibilities you quickly shove away.

It’s not until the next race weekend that you see him again. You’re busy arranging the seating in the hospitality suite when you feel a presence behind you, followed by the gentle sound of cutlery clinking. Before you can turn around, Lando’s voice drifts over your shoulder.

"Straighten up those forks, will you? We wouldn’t want our guests to think we’re unprofessional."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as your fingers move to adjust the silverware he’d nudged out of place. "I’m pretty sure they’re here for the racing, not the table settings."

"Well, if the racing doesn’t impress them, maybe your impeccable attention to detail will," Lando teases, leaning against the back of a chair as he watches you continue to move things around.

You turn to face him, a hand on your hip while the other twists a rag you’ve been using to wipe down the tables. A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze. "And what about you? Do you think my attention to detail is impressive?"

Lando’s smile widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh yeah, I think you’re impressive, full stop."

You shake your head, looking down at a box full of cutlery rolls, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris."

"Who said anything about flattery?" he retorts, his tone light but sincere. "I’m just stating the facts."

"Facts, huh?" you glance over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "What other facts do you have for me?"

Lando pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "Well, let’s see… You’re always the first one here in the morning and the last to leave at night. You keep calm under pressure, even when the kitchen’s on fire—literally. And you have this little tick when you smile—which, by the way, you don’t do enough—you look away or cover your laugh with your hands."

His words catch you off guard, and you pause, unsure of how to respond. You'd grown used to his teasing, but this felt different. He rambles a little as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. It could mean anything, but your mind refuses to acknowledge that it might be more than platonic teasing. You hear the sincerity behind his words, and it makes your heart race slightly, in a way that is both exciting and terrifying.

You quickly mask your uncertainty with a playful roll of your eyes. "And you’ve been keeping track of all this?"

"Maybe," Lando admits, not backing down. His smile softens as he watches you closely, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes.

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps breaks the moment, and you’re both reminded of where you are. A group of VIP guests enters the room, and you immediately slip back into work mode, offering them a warm smile as you direct them to their seats.

Lando lingers for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before he too slips away, back into the bustle of race day.

Your casual banter continues throughout the day and as the weeks pass. But the more time you spend around Lando, the stronger the urge to pull away becomes. He is so easy to talk to, so genuine in his interactions, but you can’t shake the feeling that you might be reading into things too much. A voice in the back of your mind keeps reminding you of the reality of your situation. He’s Lando Norris—a world-famous racing driver, adored by millions, with the world at his feet. You never doubt your skills, but you are just a hospitality worker, a coworker who happened to become a friend. Just a friend, right?

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few races later, after a hectic race, the team gathers for a small celebration. Both Lando and Oscar had performed well, amplifying the mood around the whole paddock. You're busy fixing drinks and chatting with guests, your thoughts still drifting back to Lando. You feel your heart flutter every time you catch a glimpse of him, whether he is laughing with Oscar or signing autographs for fans that are brought in. You have no doubt that he is an attractive person and are determined not to let your feelings grow further than they already have, but every touch, every brush of his fingers, or his hand on your back, sends your mind spiraling. Could you be seeing something that isn’t there? Is he just being overly friendly now that you have established a connection?

The questions swirl endlessly in your head as the evening wears on, and by the time the celebration winds down, you feel overwhelmed. Stepping outside for fresh air, you find a quiet spot on the balcony overlooking the track. You let out a sigh as you sit down on the ledge. You lean your head back on the wall, trying to clear your head. Your eyes water up a little as you let yourself relax, but you are quick to wipe them away when you hear footsteps approaching.

Turning, you spot Lando. His hands are shoved in his pockets, a gentle smile adorning his lips.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Of course not,” you say, shifting over a little to make room for him. He sits down next to you, a sliver of space between your two bodies. You sit in silence, the night air filled with the distant sounds of the paddock winding down. You can feel warmth radiating from him, a familiar tension beginning to crackle between you. It is a comfortable silence, weighted down by so many questions and unspoken words.

“Tonight was fun,” Lando speaks up after a while, his tone relaxed. “The team did great.”

You hum in agreement. “Yeah, it was a good day,” you say, glancing over at him. “You did great.”

He smiles, a soft, almost shy smile. It's a smile you have grown used to, always paired with rosy cheeks and a bashful look in his eyes. Your heart betrays you as it flutters in your chest. “Thanks. But I couldn’t have done it without the support of the team—including you.”

You smile, turning away instinctively, suddenly aware of the tick he had pointed out just a few weeks ago. “I’m just in hospitality, doing my job.”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “but you do it well. I’ve noticed how hard you work, how much you care about what you do. It’s one of the things I like about you.” He leans back on his hands, watching as you search for what to say.

The words hang in the air, heavy with something you don’t want to acknowledge. The voice in your head speaks again, denying, denying, denying. He’s just being kind, nothing else.

“I—thank you,” you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “That means a lot coming from you.”

He looks at you then, really looking at you. His eyes are hooded, eyebrows drawn together slightly. It’s as if he can see right through the defenses you’ve been trying to keep up. There’s something in the way his eyes peer out at you, a vulnerability that seems to mirror yours. There it is again, the nerves and the ache in your chest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to know.”

There is a beat of silence, and before you can respond, the doors open behind you. Your name is called, and you are quickly pulled back, retreating into the safety of professionalism. You’re needed inside.

“I should get back,” you say hastily, blinking the haze out of your eyes. “There’s still a lot to do.”

Lando clears his throat, sitting up, his expression unreadable. His voice is now deflated. “Yeah, of course.”

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare look back. There are so many emotions swirling in your mind—confusion, longing, and an ever-growing sense of fear. You want so badly to let yourself believe that there could be something growing between you, but there will always be doubts rearing their ugly heads. There will always be whispers telling you that it is all in your head, that you are only setting yourself up for disappointment. As soon as you pass the glass door, you let out a deep breath, a knot forming in your throat.

a/n: thank you so much if you’ve made it to the end! i am already in the process of writing the next part so it should be out soon! any feedback, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, i love seeing your reactions and notes! 

[attapullman]

Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert. 

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him. 

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it. 

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea. 

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else? 

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night. 

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul. 

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread. 

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?” 

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath. 

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh. 

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust. 

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours. 

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic. 

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans. 

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock. 

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate. 

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him. 

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock. 

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm. 

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck. 

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming. 

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts. 

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes. 

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours. 

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.” 

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer. 

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @comishkat @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @erospecies @hauntedduckdefendor @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @livingoutsidethetardis @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @melsunshine @meg-ro @midnightmagpiemama @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @pinkdaisies9285 @primroseluna @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @unpretty-reader @whoeverineedtobe @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any fic

[the-californicationist]

The Window (5 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06--- AO3 Link

You couldn’t see anything. You knew you were in the backseat, but you didn’t even know what kind of car you were in. They’d stolen you from your bed. As the road rushed by you, jostling you around, you had no idea where you were headed. The two men on either side of you hadn’t said a word, but when you tried to peek, they reinforced your blindfold, keeping you in the dark. 

“Alright, bonnie,” Soap’s voice was in your left ear, “Ready for your surprise?”

You turned to him, hoping he could see the glare through the cloth, 

“Are we there yet? ‘Cause blindfolding a pregnant woman in a car while she has morning sickness is like a new level of cruelty.”

“Sorry, love,” Gaz took your hand and you felt his lips on your fingers, “Almost there.”

Price was in the driver’s seat, and you felt him pull the car to a long, braking stop.

Gaz took your hand, helping you out of the car, walking you up past the hood, one foot in front of the other. 

“Can I look?”

“Alright, pretty girl. You can look,” John’s voice washed over you, and you took off your mask. 

You were facing a modern-style home. It was the only house around, surrounded by trees, illuminated by bright sunshafts glittering through the leaves of the canopy. 

“Bought it for you, love. Wha’d’ya think?” Simon’s comment barely registered. 

When John had told you things would be different, he hadn’t really been clear. He’d promised to do everything he could to take care of you and the baby, and that he would somehow prove it to you. You had no idea that promise would include a whole damn house.

“Your name’s on the deed, and it’s paid in full. But,” John shifted his weight, treading lightly, “We were hopin’ you’d let us move in with you. We just… we don’t wanna miss a moment, love.”

“What?” Your voice sounded so small, “You… you bought me a house?”

“Aye, with a wee pool and everything! Come see it, bonnie,” Soap grabbed your hand and rushed you in. 

The house was unfurnished except for the appliances, but there were boxes in every room. You opened one to find a bedframe, and one in the kitchen had pots and pans. Had they bought everything new? How did they get the money?

“John,” you found him as Soap was taking you around for the tour, “How did you afford this?”

He smiled, 

“Four single men, all with over ten years of service… let’s just say we had some savings.”

“I can’t afford to pay you back,” you admitted. 

“Don’t need you to. It’s yours. I told you, love,” he pet your cheek, kissing you chastely once, twice, until you relaxed into his touch, “We’re here to stay, but it’ll be on your terms.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you were in shock as you stood in the big, empty living room, gaping up at the high ceilings and black, wooden beams. It was a gorgeous home, and you were speechless. 

“Do you like it, love?” Simon put his arms around your waist and held you, looking down into your face for your appraisal.

You nodded,

“I do. It’s perfect. Thank you for everything. I wasn’t —”

He bent down to kiss you, interrupting you, and he was anything but gentle. Something about seeing you in his home had Simon all worked up, and you were being subjected to its effects. 

His hands lifted you onto the kitchen island with incredible ease, and you spread your legs to accommodate his huge frame as he settled himself against your hips. He wouldn’t stop kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your lips, and fondling your tender breasts through your thin tee shirt. 

“You two are gonna start a fire you can’t put out,” Gaz chastised Ghost, sidling up to you and kissing your neck. 

“Join in or fuck off, mate,” Simon’s voice was like a growl, snarling at his sergeant before returning his mouth to your body, sucking on your soft nipple through the fabric of your tee, making the cloth cling to you as he licked and nipped at your peak.

“Easy, Si. We’re gonna unload the bags, and we’ll be back. Get her all warmed up for us,” Gaz’s sinister chuckle hung in the air as he left you at his lieutenant’s mercy, of which there seemed to be very little. 

Ghost was usually so careful with you, but today, in the echoing expanse of the kitchen he’d bought for you, he was messy and needy. You could feel his cock straining against his pants as he rubbed it against you. Wearing nothing more than a pair of bike shorts and a tee shirt, you were able to feel every touch, every warm inch of his dick through your thin clothing, and his repeated thrusting told you exactly how hard he was.

He whined as he kissed you, teasing his head against your covered hole, but sensing where the warm entrance was, prodding it as if he might break through. You comforted him, placing your hand on his cheek as he kissed you. It seemed to bring him back to earth, if just for a moment. 

“You alright, Si?” You asked in a low whisper, watching over Ghost’s enormous shoulder as the other three men brought in bag after bag of supplies and belongings, preparing to move in. They kept stealing hungry glances over at you and your tall blond lover, not jealous per se but feeling ready to be included. 

Simon nodded,

“Yeah, love. ‘M fine.” 

He pulled back a bit to look down at your body. He lifted your tee shirt to stare at your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but he didn’t care. He placed an enormous, tattooed hand over your womb protectively, whispering,

“Can’t believe you’re havin’ my baby. Doesn’t seem real yet.”

“How do you know they’re yours?” You asked him gently, putting your hand over his and tracing comforting circles across his skin.

“Don’t know,” he kissed you again, “Don’t care.”

Simon pulled off your bike shorts, forcing you to lift your hips off the counter, and ripped them off of your feet in one quick swoop. Your shirt disappeared just as fast, and the cool air in the empty kitchen rushed across your body, making your flesh pebble from the shock. But, you melted as soon as you felt Simon’s thick fingers spread your pussy lips apart, reaching for your tight, wet hole. When he found your warmth, you both sighed into each other, relieved and yet ablaze. 

His other hand was still pressed to your belly as if he was keeping you and your baby hidden from the world, holding you both in his palm possessively. The contrast was mesmerizing. His fingers pounded into you, sheathing themselves down to the knuckle, wet and sticky, while his other was gentle and soft, caressing you as sweetly as he could. You felt a strong, rushing orgasm build within you, and as soon as you began to clench around him, he took his fingers away, leaving you teetering on the edge with nothing to grab onto. 

“Ungh! What… Si? Please,” you whined, looking up to him with wide glassy eyes.

His expression was serious, and he leaned in close to taunt you,

“Whose baby are you havin’?”

“I don’t know. We said we would —”

His fingers were back, pressing down cruelly into your walls, making it feel like his fat dick was prodding through your entrance,

“Whose…” His fingers sank into you, making a popping wet noise. “Fuckin’...” He pulled them out of you, painting your wetness on your lips, “Baby…” Back in. “Is…” Back out. “It?” Back in, and this time, a third finger joined them.

“Simon!” You cried out, but you were alone in the room. The others must have been outside dealing with the moving boxes. 

“That’s right,” he brought your face up to his, tangling a fist into your hair, “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s too much, Si…” You were shocked by how stretched you felt, and your pussy was soaked, trying to accommodate its intruder, your muscles shaking from being spread apart. 

“Whose —”

“Yours… fuck! Si, you’re gonna make me come!” You felt it break inside of you, bursting through like a firework, crackling through your belly and making you squirt on his hands… and your brand new kitchen tile. 

“Oh, bloody hell. That’s a good girl.”

Just when you thought he would give you his cock, he began to slowly press his hand into you again, fucking you with his three wide fingers still inside of you, stretching you all the way down to his knuckles. 

“Si?” You whimpered, confused, starving for the comforting feeling of his heavy rod. 

“Wha’ is it, love?” He didn’t even look up at you. He was transfixed, focused on your swollen hole. 

“Fuck me… please?” You reached out for him, grasping at his wide forearm, trying to coax him to take the next step. 

In an almost dismissive way, he caught Price before he walked back outside and nodded at him, 

“Oy, mate. Hold her for me, yeah?”

To your shock, John walked over, studied you for a second as you writhed in your predicament, and stood on the other side of the island countertop, behind your head. He chuckled, 

“What have you gotten yourself into, pretty girl?” 

The captain took both of your arms and locked them in his, sticking them up behind your head, watching your tits hang freely, bouncing up and down as Ghost pounded his hand into your sopping pussy. 

You gritted your teeth, feeling your body respond to your capture, ready and eager to come again so soon after its last onslaught. 

“I can’t… I’m…” 

“Gonna come again,” Simon grinned, “Yeah, I can feel it. Needy thing, innit she?”

“She is,” John agreed, pinning your arms just a little tighter, ready for you to try and wriggle away. 

You were breathing heavy, and your muscles kept tightening up on you, freezing you in place as you tried to squirm free. If only you could pull your arms around you, maybe you could hold off the brutal fire building in your chest, burning down your ribs and spinning like a spiral in that impossibly tight coil that he was working with his fingers. 

It was when he bent to suck on your clit that you lost it. You felt the knot that was tangled up inside of you slip, the long rope sliding against its own bite, loose and unwieldy, letting you freefall through the sparkling, black abyss of your impossibly deep pleasure. 

“That’s what I wanna see, love,” your blond beast growled up at you, showing you his white fangs, “Give me that come. Give it to me! Yes! Fuck!”

You heard the wet noises that were coming from you, not understanding where they were coming from or how, but also not caring one bit. All you cared about was riding the relentless wave of pleasure. The more he fucked you on his hand, the more you rolled through the tumbling ebb and flow of your bliss. 

Hot tears cut across your temples, and it was John’s soft mouth that kissed them away, shushing you,

“It’s okay, love. Be good for Simon, yeah? Be our good girl. You can do that, right?”

You nodded weakly, leaning your cheek into his scruffy kisses, letting him nuzzle you, comforting you as Ghost pulled you apart.

John used his warm hands to pet your breasts, plucking gently at your nipples, lingering on their silky skin, 

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin’ Si use that pussy. You look bloody beautiful like this, love.”

His praise made you feel drunk. Now, all you wanted was to be good for them. You wanted more of that lovesick approval. What more could you give them? How could you appease the gods of your pleasure?

You canted your hips, humping Simon’s hand, letting him reach deeper and deeper on each thrust, rocking your body against the hard countertop. 

Ghost made a painful groan inside his throat, obviously pleased with your performance, and he leaned forward to suck on your breasts, biting and licking more than he was kissing, but it was enough to make you keen in high-pitched whines, catching Soap and Gaz’s attention in the other room. 

You didn’t halt your shameless undulation for their benefit. You were far beyond the point of shame. You were only focused on coming again and again and again — as many times as your commander needed you to — built to serve him. Them…

Gaz’s bright smile widened as he came up beside Ghost,

“My, my, my. Makin’ quite a mess, hm, babes?”

“A right gorgeous mess,” Soap added, licking his lips, obviously eager to taste the honey Simon had harvested from you. 

Now that he had his team with him, Simon pulled you off the counter top and put your feet on the ground. He positioned you so that he could fuck you from behind, but he was too tall. So, he simply held you up, easily supporting your weight, his heavy arm underneath your hips. Price, Gaz, and Soap all stood in front of you, their belt buckles in your line of sight, and watched as Ghost fed his solid cock into your wet hole. The captain grabbed you by the hair, forcing your chin up, and with each thrust from Simon, your mouth crashed right into Price’s zipper. 

“Mm,” he sighed, “Perfect height, innit?”

With his free hand, he unbuckled the belt, pulled down his zipper, and let the button free from his pants. Then, you were face to face with his fat dick, as hard as steel and ready to be buried in your throat. 

You opened your mouth, trying to look up at your captain, but it was no use, you couldn’t see him, all you could see was the head of his cock being pressed into your lips, inch after inch of him disappearing into your mouth, making you gag. 

As Simon thrust forward, Price pulled out, and then the reverse. As you felt your pussy empty from its delightful stretch, your throat was invaded by Price’s uncut, drooling monster. You were always full, no matter what, and your brain had no idea how to prioritize your efforts. So, for the most part, you were helpless, hanging limp between the two huge men, being used by them in a cyclic, tantric rhythm, ceaselessly and towards a blinding, white-hot joy. 

Suddenly, you felt two mouths on your hanging breasts, suckling from each nipple as if you would feed them, laving at your skin relentlessly. You knew it was Gaz and Soap from the feeling of their kisses, but you couldn’t see them, so every movement was a surprise. Someone’s hand began to play in your folds, discovering the hard round body of your clit and teasing it as SImon slammed himself into you. 

You came, but it was silent. Price’s cock wouldn’t let any noise escape, but he could feel you screaming. He took a step forward, fully sheathed inside of you now, cutting off your air, making you choke roughly. Your whole body clenched down before you told it to relax, and the sound that came from Simon was a singular delight. It seemed like he was in some kind of heaven. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell. Tha’s damn good,” Ghost hissed, “Do it again, Cap.”

Price obliged, choking you down on his cock, making your jaw stretch to its limit, burying your nose in his soft curls. You lapped at his base with your tongue, participating in the small way that you could, balancing yourself on his hips. 

“Ungh!” Price groaned, emptying his load into you. 

Simon was coming too, and you could feel the heat from both of them pooling inside of you. 

You weren’t sure whose arms you were in, but someone held you tightly, helping you stand on shaking legs, petting your face, telling you not to swallow. 

“Hm?” You tried to catch your bearings, and Soap held your face in his hands, his thumbs trying to pull your mouth open. 

“C’mon, bonnie. Open up. Show me his come, yeah? Lemme taste it.”

You were out of your mind, but you were pliant and fully drowning in your subspace, eager to obey. You opened your mouth to him, feeling him lick Price’s come out of you, sucking it off of your tongue. Then, he dropped to his knees, licking it back into your cunt, mixing it with Simon’s, eating you out and filling you up at the same time. 

Gaz was still on his knees as well, and you could feel his huge hands pull your ass cheeks apart, the tip of his strong tongue prodding at your asshole, trying to squeeze itself through the tight muscle. 

He found a way in, and you were being eaten from both sides, held upright by Soap’s strong arms. You held onto his mohawk for help, trying to steady yourself. Their mouths were so warm, and yet you shivered, the pleasure overwhelming you. 

A big thumb came and wiped more tears from your cheek, 

“Shh, pretty girl. You can take it, yeah?” 

It was John. He was comforting you, his softening cock still hanging heavy and low outside of his pants, shining from your mouth. He coached you,

“Breathe for me. Gonna come for them, aren’t you? Yeah, tha’s a good girl. Just let it happen. Shh, shh. Pretty little thing…”

“Ahhhngh!” You screamed from deep within your chest, and you knew you had squirted again, all over Soap’s face. You felt it happen. Now that Simon had primed you for it, you nearly had control, but not quite. It was like a button that was too high to press. 

“Fuck, yes, lass. You taste so fuckin’ sweet. Holy shite,” Johnny came up off the ground and held you up so that your legs were straddling him. It didn’t take much for him to stuff himself into your pussy after Simon’s work, and yet he filled you in an entirely different way. At the same time, you felt Gaz behind you, his fingers playing in your asshole, and then, his soft cockhead. 

It took Gaz much longer to get fully settled, but as Johnny fucked his dick up into you, he found a way. You felt Gaz’s wide palm wrap itself around your throat from behind, not to choke you but to hold you upright, keeping you straight even though everything in you wanted to collapse. 

“That’s it, babes. This tight little arse belongs to me, yeah? Tell us who you fuckin’ belong to.”

“You… ungh, I’m… ahhh!” You tried to speak, but it was so much easier to whimper. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” John was back, fondling your breasts as his men fucked you in both of your holes, “You can do far better than that.”

You met his eyes, and behind the icy blue, there roared a blazing fire. Simon had come to join you on the other side of Johnny, and the same flames lay within him as well. 

“I’m yours,” you promised all four of them at once, “This baby is yours,” you heard them collectively groan at varying levels of excitement and possession, “All yours. Always.”

“Good girl,” Simon praised you before Price could, parting your lips with his fingers, the same ones he had tortured you with, and stuck them in your mouth, “Now, suck.”

You did, keeping your eyes on him as you licked your own come off of his skin, feeling Price’s beard brush against your chest, latching onto the nipple he loved to abuse, biting at it to make it stiffen. 

“Mmff-fuck,” the captain mumbled as he sucked on your skin, “I can’t wait for your milk to come in.”

“Dinnae even start. Gonnae make me come just thinkin’ about it, Cap’n,” Johnny agreed, bending his neck to suck from your other breast, imagining drinking from you. 

Simon pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, and because of Price’s earlier invasion, you took him easily, proud of yourself for not gagging, using your mouth and tongue to take Ghost’s hand as far as he wanted it to go. You could see what your performance was doing to him. His chest was rising and falling, breathing hard from the excitement. 

Gaz’s cock was now pounding into your ass with as much power as you could take, and as he increased his speed, you started to feel yourself come in a new way. The sparks were still there, but they were coming from somewhere dark and mysterious, flowing over you softly, like frothy waves of foam, ethereal and light. 

You reached back and grabbed his neck at the nape, digging your nails into his flesh, spurring him on. 

“Ungh, goddamnit,” he cried out, kissing your throat that he still held in his hand, biting you none too gently. 

“Kyle… please, I need… I need you,” you pulled your mouth away from Ghost and whispered to him, and with whatever strength he had left, he fucked his long shaft into your ass, feeling your beating pulse deep within your body. 

His mouth was right on your ear, and he whispered, 

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming… I’m — ahngh!”

“Oh, fuck!” Soap lay his forehead on your other shoulder, and began to rut into you without any mercy, the idea of Gaz’s throbbing cock filling you up too much for him to bear. 

They held you between them, frozen in time, letting their cocks erupt inside of your warm belly, filling you with their load. As they pulled away, you heard the wet noise of their spend hitting the tile, pouring out of you in a lurid stream. You hissed from the empty feeling you were left with, and the only thing you could hold onto was the memory of the feeling. 

“You alright, love?” John asked you, petting your cheek. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got her. You lot can finish settin’ up. C’mon, love,” Ghost told them, swinging your limp body up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. 

Inside the large bathroom, you saw that they had packed all of your toiletry effects, and they were strewn about, tossed in bags, waiting to be organized. Simon sat you down on the edge of the tub and began to fill it, checking the temperature with his hand before helping you sit inside. 

The water was warm as it began to pool around you, and you had the pleasure of watching Ghost undress, preparing to join you. He was a tall man, but the tub was large, and you were eager to feel his body against yours again. 

In the bright light of the bathroom, his scars were on full display. They didn’t bother you, but they made you feel very protective. As if you had a time machine and could go back and slaughter the bastards who had made them. He caught you staring and teased you for it,

“You lookin’ for round two already, missus?”

You blushed, looking away shyly. 

“Nuh uh,” he chided, sinking into the tub behind you, “Where’s my nasty little slag who squirted for me in my kitchen, hm?”

“Si…” You played coy, snuggling back against him in the water, feeling his flesh slip against yours, just as warm. His furry belly jerked from his silent laughter against your back, and he used his huge hands to rub soap down your arms as he began to clean you. 

“Pretend all you want, love. I know the truth. You love being our filthy girl, innit that right?”

“You got me,” you sighed, letting him clean your body, feeling his hands rub you up and down, lingering on your breasts a little too long. He pulled at your nipples, soft at first and then cruelly, until you made a noise of protest. 

He teased you again, rubbing them in slow, agonizing circles, 

“You gonna let me have a taste, hm?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him over your shoulder, not understanding what he wanted at first. 

“When your milk comes in,” he used both hands to squeeze your tits, making them rise out of the water, pressing them up until they looked huge on your chest, “Bet they’re gonna be so full, so big. I read that book Johnny bought. Says your nipples might get darker. I’m ready to see that.”

“Are you sure? You might not like the way I look,” you said, testing his desire. 

“Bollocks. Dark nipples, huge tits, drippin’ milk, big swollen belly with my fuckin’ baby in it? You’re proper mad if you think that’s not what I want. Fuck, it’s all any of us can think about.”

“What else do you think about?” You asked dreamily, closing your eyes and letting him massage the soap into your breasts, squeezing them in a steady, slow pattern, comforting himself with their heavy softness.

“Think about hearin’ their laugh. About what color eyes they’ll have. Think about comin’ home to you and the lads. Christmas morning. All the wrapping paper torn up all over the floor. Think about crawlin’ into bed with you every damn night. Thinkin’ about holding them for the first time. About how much I love you.”

You opened your eyes then, looking up at him to see the truth, and when you saw how earnest he was, no longer hiding behind his snarky jokes, something in you opened. A door. Some new beginning. 

“I love you, too, Si.”

Idk how many more of these chapters I've got in me. Just submitting to the process, I guess. Do y'all still even want to read these? Who knows.

While you wait for the next installment, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!

[jazzyoranges]

Splitting Headache

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara is there when you have a shitty day at work

Words: 1.0k

A/n: i didn’t spell check or anything so sorry if there’s mistakes 😇 also kinda inspired by a reddit story i saw on tiktok

Warnings(?): fluff, annoying customers

You’ve had a long fucking day at work. Your day was already bad when you woke up. There was a throbbing pain right in the middle for your forehead, but alas, the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache. Unfortunately, your headache only worsened when you somehow slipped on a chew toy in the kitchen of your apartment

But the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache or a bruise on your ass. You worked as a barista at a pretty busy coffee shop. There was always a constant stream of people ordering pastries, drinks, and sandwiches. At least you got paid a little more than average, right?

Luckily the car ride to the shop wasn’t too bad. Until you almost crashed into some dumbass driver that doesn’t know how to drive. A plethora of curses escaped your lips as you angrily beeped at the guy that almost made a dent in your car — your precious baby

But the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache, a bruise on your ass, or idiot drivers. You’re only a few minutes late so you quickly put on your apron and start making some drinks. The thing you hate most about your job isn’t the customers, but the overly complex and sugary coffees. Like, who the fuck is ordering a liquified birthday cake coffee at eight in the morning? The loud machine’s definitely didn’t make your headache better

But the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache, a bruise on your ass, idiot drivers, or loud noises. Thankfully your job was pretty simple. Well, to you it was a pain in the ass, but an easy pain in the ass. Take the order, make the drink, spell the name wrong, and serve. Sounds pretty easy, but there just so happens to be a certain time where the worst customers come in. Nine in the morning. At nine in the morning, all of the angry moms and the mean business men come in to have their morning coffee

And every single morning you have to deal with them

Every.

Single.

Morning.

Today was absolutely no different

“I asked for two pumps of vanilla! You only put one!”

“No, that gift card isn’t used up!”

“I get to cut the line. I’m more important than anyone else here!”

But the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache, a bruise on your ass, idiot drivers, loud noises, or annoying customers. Really, the only thing that was getting you through this day was your girlfriend. Your amazing, beautiful, wonderful, kind, beau-

“This is disgusting! You must be new, this is not the matcha coffee I ordered!” A woman snaps you out of your thoughts and you have to put on your customer-service voice

“Actually, i’ve been working here for about six months. What seems to be the issue?”

“Are you trying to smart-mouth me, young lady?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

“Yeah the hell you are!” The lady was practically screaming at you, and you saw some phones recording your situation. At least you’d have proof of verbal harassment if you decided to punch her

“Please, ma’am, I’ll make it for you again.”

“No way! You’ve ruined my morning!” And with that, the woman splashes her drink in your face before you can react. Your manager catches wind of the situation, but he gets there too late. You’re already dripping green when he arrives. You storm off into the break room with a scowl on your face

But the world doesn’t stop spinning for a dumb headache, a bruise on your ass, idiot drivers, loud noises, annoying customers, or women that throw matcha coffee in your face. Thankfully your manager is nice and kind enough to know the customer isn’t always right. He offers you the day off, and you happily accept. You wash up before leaving and earn a few “I’m sorry she did that”’s and “She was in the wrong”’s, which makes you feel a little better knowing the other customers were on your side

The entire situation just made your head throb even harder

Originally you were going to go back home to take a nap, but you decide to visit the only reason you kept going today. You’re amazing, beautiful, wonderful, kind, girlfriend Tara. All you wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in her arms and kiss until your lips were swollen. Every sapphic woman’s dream, really

You pull into the garage of Tara’s apartment complex, and practically sprint to her room. One minute flat, a new record. Softly knocking on the door as to not scare her, you patiently waited to hear her footsteps check the peephole

“Baby?” Your girlfriend says behind the door before opening it. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

You choose to not elaborate, and pull her into a shoulder crushing hug

“What’s with the affection? Tell me what’s wrong, love”

“Bad day. Cuddle?” You mumble into her shoulder, and she laughs while shutting the door

“Of course.” Tara pulls your face to hers, giving you a deep kiss before taking you to her room. You can’t your giddy smile and it makes the younger Carpenter happy

There are random shirts and shorts from all the times you’ve spent over, and you quickly change before jumping into Tara’s arms. Burying your head into your girlfriend’s chest, you sigh at her smell. She’s exactly what home smells like to you

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong, baby?”

“Tired.” You mumble

“It’s only two in the afternoon my love”

“Just want you...” You mumble again in one breath, making Tara laugh

She had to be magic. Your worries washed away, and simply being with her made you feel better. Tara ran her hands through your hair, massaging your head. Simultaneously, your headache was nearly gone. Shitty days, mediocre days, good days, you knew your girlfriend would be there to pick you up. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if the world stopped spinning for Tara Carpenter

—

Bonus:

“Baby, why do you smell like matcha?”

“Long story.”

[fictionalmenxyn]

What it’s like to date, ¡Ghost!

Well, at the beginning of your relationship you both weren’t touchy.

You both wanted to take things slowly, and you wanted to give ghost time as you knew that it took him a while to warm up to people.

But as soon as you two had became a lot closer and more connected you two were head over heels.

Ghost was more of a act of service and words of affirmation than physical touch. He does physical touch but to a small degree, especially in public.

If you were making something in the kitchen, he’d place his hands on your waist to move past. Or he’d give you a kiss after giving you your tea or coffee. But when you two are alone it’s totally different.

He loves having his arms around your waist, like you’d both be laying on the bed and he’d have an arm around your waist. He also secretly loves when you call him ‘Si’ or ‘my darling’ deep down he melts. It’s like crypto night for him.

He loves when your making breakfast cause it gives him the perfect excuse to come from behind and give you a hug. Sometimes he even offers to cook with you.

When you have a bad day or your ill he is right there for you. If you have really bad cramps, he’ll make a nice warm bath with anything you want in there; he’ll grab your iPad or laptop and set up your favourite show and then carry you to the bath.

If your having a bad day he’ll offer you to cook or he’ll secretly do all of your washing if there is any. He just loves seeing your face light up after a bad day because you don’t need to add more time onto your already busy schedule or so you can finally have a rest.

I feel like although he isn’t fond of physical touch, when your both deep into the relationship he actually doesn’t mind it AS MUCH as before. Like he’d love if you go over to him as he sits on the sofa. You go over and lay on top of him and snuggle into him. Like that would make him melt on the spot.

And speaking of cuddling, if it’s you this man will go all for it. He isn’t a fan if people hug him but if it’s you, oh gosh. He’s glad sometimes that he has his mask on cause sometimes he blushes so much just because you show him affection. Which we all know he deserves.

The mask situation, you let him take his time. You never asked to see his face nor to keep it off if it’s just you two. He was very grateful for it cause he knew he could really trust you.

About a right months to a year he started to get more comfortable and knew you like him for him. So when you two were you at home. You knew Simon was in the living room and you were folding clothes upstairs; you had a text from your friend that mentioned about something that shocked you. So you ran downstairs and bursted into the living room babbling on about the text. You looked up to see he didn’t have his mask on. You jaw dropped, in a very good way. He was so handsome, you understood the little joke of him keeping his mask on because of how hot he was. As he sat on the sofa watching you stand in the middle of the living room he jokingly said “I haven’t turned you to stone have I? Eh?” You spoke “no, I’m just shocked, I didn’t make you to take it off. Did I?” He shook his head and replied “no, I know I can finally trust you. And also I feel more comfortable now” you smiled and started to almost tear up. He raised an eyebrow at your reaction. You said “oh Si, that’s… I’m so glad you feel like that” you ran over and gave him a huge hug.

Speaking of hugs, when you hug this man he is so warm. He is always warm to touch but he never feels warm or hot if you get me? Like you’ll say something like ‘your hands are so warm’ and he’ll be like ‘I feel cold’ type of thing.

If he were to have a car I’d feel like it’d be a pick up truck. So you, him and Riley can go find the nearest hiking trail or go to the nearest beach and spend the day out together. He’ll probably google a place to drive to while watch some tv show.

Definitely likes a nice barbecue if he’s close to your family. Like you’d ask him if he’d like to go and he’d agree. At first when he first met your family he was nervous because of how he may look in your families eyes but your family loved him. They loved how much he cared for you. If you have brothers he’d definitely go to the local pub with them every so often.

But overall this man will protect you no matter the situation and you’d always be there for him. You two are able to vent to each other and you’d both listen and comfort one another.

When laying in bed, in the morning he’d wake up first but keeps you in bed longer. And at night you’d play with his hair depending if he has his mask on or not.

This man is everything in your eyes.

Hope you enjoyed!

Feel free to request or message me if you want

Have a good day/night!🫶

[saintship]

i see a lot of ghost coming home to reader after a long mission but what about nurse!reader coming home to ghost after an exhausting shift at the hospital they work at? thank you 💓

CUTE

I tried a bit of characterization here; I believe he would do this in a way that seems blunt but is really very meaningful and premeditated. He’s more comfortable with acts of service than nearly any other showcase of vulnerability.

It’s a Given - Ghost x gn!reader

Simon wasn’t big on phone calls; the only reason you picked up the phone in the middle of your shift.

“Hey. Y’Alright?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“Im just fine. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t collapsed.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath..” you shift your weight, the soreness in your feet and legs aching.

“You’re sweet, but I’m in the middle of a shift.” You speak gently. It pains you to discourage him from calling, but even now, the other residents were staring.

“Right, right, sorry. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“That’s right. I love you, Si.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“We need an ABG on a combatant child in 106.” A doctor approached you, handing you the child’s chart.

“On it, thank you.”

Aside from that eight year old girl nearly smacking the needle out of your hand, your shift was more of a drag than stressful. Until, of course, 20 minutes before it ended. Four rapid responses, a code blue, and a violent patient escaping into the lobby, all after another. After those 20 minutes became an hour, you finally caught a gap to leave. You were lucky your car had given out in the garage that morning; if you’d tried to drive instead of taking the bus, you’d be back in that hospital right now.

The sight of your apartment door was almost enough to make you cry. It opened before you could reach for your key, Simon greeting you in sweatpants and a white T shirt. His casual wear along with his mussed hair pulled a smile over your tired features.

“Hi..”

“Hey. Come in, you look like you’ll faint.”

You took his outstretched hand and let him unlace and tug off your boots after shutting the door with his foot.

“I’ve got some dinner for you for after you shower.”

He rose to take your hands again as you rested your back on the wall.

“Thank you..”

“Course.”

Each time he did things like this, took care of you, he always seemed a twinge surprised when you thanked him. As if it was a given; you had a long shift, so he’d look after you. Simple as that.

“Towel’s in there with some clothes.” He nodded with his head to the bathroom.

Since a thank you seemed to pass over him, instead you leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose gently, right over the scar there, before pressing a proper one to his lips. His hand cradled your head like clockwork, like the both of you were falling into place.

You heard the beeps of the microwave from the bathroom as you rid yourself of your scrubs. The clothes he’d picked included a shirt of his, which made you smile. It was an SAS issued long sleeve from his early days, but still comfortable on you. The hot water washed away the sweat that prickled the back of your neck, the smell of your body wash soothing your senses after hours of a sterile environment.

You wandered into the kitchen still towel drying your hair, unable to resist being near Simon when you finally had the chance again.

“I forgot you still had this.” You tug at the shirt, a warm light in your eye.

“I don’t wear it, but you do. So I keep it.”

He handed you a leftover portion of the recipe you’d both made together the previous night, entirely distracting each other from what was a simple instruction list.

You lean against the counter to eat, Simon wandering behind you to hug your waist.

“I really do appreciate it..you make it easier. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably just pass out in my scrubs and wake up feeling worse.”

“I know.” he replies gently. Knowingly. “But I won’t let that happen.”

He sets your empty dish in the sink, guiding you by hand to the bathroom to join you in brushing your teeth. You’d told him once it was easier to do something hard when he was doing it too, and you’d never had to repeat yourself. He also had a habit of ‘making sure his breath was clean’ by kissing you, which never failed to make you smile. He could be such a dork, and it made your chest hurt with affection.

“You still want to read, or are you too tired?” He asked softly, guiding you to bed.

“I can listen for a bit. I really like when you read.” You reply, settling under the sheets. He stood at his nightstand drawer, sifting through it. “Which one tonight, doc?”

You huff at the nickname, though smiling a bit.

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Y’go soft when you’re tired, eh?”

“Shut up.”

He grinned, and the sight of it could fuel you for a week’s worth of shifts.

“Alright..” He settled in beside you, lifting one arm to drape over top of you. Your head rested at the soft bit of his hip, toying with the woven bracelet on his unoccupied hand.

“‘No,’ said Darcy.” Simon began. “‘I have a made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding..’”

When Simon glanced over at you, you were asleep. He set down the book soundlessly, his heart swelling at the way you held onto his forearm in your sleep, and eventually dozed off himself.

It felt like a given.

[imaginecolby]

my favorite pillow || c.b.

summary: after an exceptionally long day, you are beyond tired and all you want is to cuddle with your boyfriend.

requested by anonymous.

“today has been insane, i cant wait to come home to you :(“ you text colby. you and him had been apart all day, tending to your necessary work tasks, running errands, and going to meetings. it was hectic as hell, and you couldn’t wait for the day to be over. 

“i may be getting home a little earlier than you, so i’ll be sure to have dinner ready for you.” colby text back.

“ah, you’re perfect.” you smiled as you hit send on your reply. you focused your attention back to work, and anxiously awaited for the end of the day.

once you completed all your tasks, and were finally able to go home. you practically ran out to your car to head home. by the time you arrived, colby had dinner set up for the two of you, paired with glasses of wine and ambient lighting.

“mmm, smells good.” you said with a smile as you walked into the dining room.

“perfect timing. everything just got here.” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. you set your bags in the kitchen and sat down with colby at the dining room table. you and him talked about your days, complaining how busy you both were and how exhausting the day had been. 

after dinner, you both made your way to your bedroom, fully unwinding from the day. you���d both undressed and stepped into the shower together, the warm water washing the stress from your shoulders. you stood facing the water as colby stood behind you, massaging the soapy loofa across your back, shoulders, and arms. your eyes closed as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, nothing but the sound of the running water keeping you company. you swayed back and forth a bit, almost falling asleep. 

once you were out of the shower and dressed in your pj’s, you and colby climbed into bed. you nuzzled into his side, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

“mmm, my favorite pillow.” you smiled, laying on his chest. you felt him laugh as he wrapped an arm around you and began searching for a movie to watch.

“glad i can be of service.” he laughed, rubbing your back. you laid there quietly as the movie started, you barely able to hold your eyes open for most of it. everytime colby would move, even just slightly, you would whine, complaining about how he was disturbing your sleep.

“babe, you gotta let me up. i have to go to the bathroom.” he laughed, pushing you off his chest.

“ugh, fine.” you groaned. you sat up, dazed and confused, a small pout pulling on your lip while you waited for colby to come back from the bathroom. as soon as you saw him walk out of the door, you held you arms up and made grabby hands at him. he huffed a small laugh, and climbed back into bed. he repositioned himself in the same position he was in, and you laid back down with him.

“are you done pouting?” he teased.

“very much so.” you laughed, nuzzling deeper into his side. you heard him laugh again as you started to fall asleep again. colby laid as still as he could beneath you to allow you to sleep comfortably. that night ended up being one of the best nights of sleep you’d ever had, cuddling as closely as you could with the love of your life. it was perfect.

[scarlet-empresss]

Simon Riley x reader relationship headcanons Sooo after nearly seven years of being a mostly inactive member of the fandom, writing countless fics that nobody ever got to see - I can say I’ve developed a fairly clear picture of how I envision some of these characters. Therefore, here are some of the things I think would characterize Simon as a partner (and a few of just him as a person). English is not my first language so please bear with me :)

Friends first. I feel like he's not one to rush into a serious relationship without having strong foundations laid out first. You're a trustworthy, longtime teammate he's been working with for years, who has seen his darkest side and inner demons resurface, and still be accepting of him as a person? Or perhaps you're a civilian working at the coffee shop he frequents; the same civilian who spilled his usual at him one time, leading to an unexpected, but most certainly intruguing friendship? Let's fucking roll with either.

Following the first point—he's not a 'love at first glance' type of guy. He needs a connection, a spark; that spark that comes from knowledge and insight, both gained through meaningful interactions and a genuine bond. This is what Simon seeks. (Bonus points if you're a medic/nurse, because, you know, I fucking love medic x soldier trope)

Now let's get to the love language—definitely acts of service. You're tired after a long day at work? Boom, you've got a nice and hot bath waiting for you, together with your favorite snacks and a glass of wine/book to read (could be both). Running low on essentials, be it your favorite type of coffee, a preferred perfume, tampons, the likes? Well, expect it to be restocked as soon as possible. He'll change the oil in your car, scrape the frost from the windows, anything you as much as mention. If you're sick, he'll do whatever makes you feel better, whether that's a warm compress or something as simple as a bowl of soup and a couple of ice packs. He wants to take care of you. He might not be an expert at expressin his feelings through words, but he'll damn sure cook you a three-course meal and a dessert to show you how much he appreciates you.

That being said, he's an exceptional cook. He doesn't have many opportunities to experiment in the kitchen during deployments or safe houses, but you can be sure that Simon is behind the pots and pans preparing mouthwatering meals whenever he's back home. It's relaxing, and he simply enjoys spending time cooking for you and himself.

Not into excessive PDA - hand holding is okay, but when you two are in a crowd (which he hates), there's a hand on the small of your back or lingering on the back of your neck. Behind closed doors, he's more openly affectionate. Whether you're simply making a sandwich in the kitchen or he breezes past you, he's likely to stand behind you and simply rest his chin on the top of your head, rough hands on your hips, or when you two are sitting on the couch, his arm is either around you or resting on your thigh.

Non sexual intimacy is a big yes; head scratches, hand holding, shoulder rubs, baths together, or anything of the sort. But there's one thing that melts him completely and that's when you kiss his eyelids. If you're his teammate and you're in a relationship, he will appreciate you helping him out of his gear, washing the dirt and grime off his hands or helping him apply the camouflage paint on his face.

He may call you "love" or "sweetheart," but he attempts to restrict these terms of endearment primarily behind closed doors. He's not exactly fond of overtly cutesy pet names either, so he appreciates the occasional "Love" or "Si," but he draws the line at anything more ostentatiously affectionate. "Don't ya ever call me pookie again, got it, sweetheart?"

Wanna wake up before that man? Yeah, good luck with that. He's a proper, bona fide early riser, an early bird, prepared for the day well before the rays reach the horizon. It's like clockwork, a routine that's been ingrained into his circadian rhythm, something that governs his inner system. If he's not out on a morning jog, he'll lie on his side of the bed, staring at you, silently admiring. Oh, and he'll know if you wake up and pretend to be still asleep.

Simon values the power of silence. Quiet as he may be at certain times, this man is not indifferent; he's an observer. He considers observation as a means of learning and appreciates the sheer volume of knowledge that can be gleaned from the study of behaviors, facial expressions, and other body language cues. Furthermore, a comfortable silence may be the strongest indicator of the powerful connection between two people. That's how he knew there was truly something special between you and him.

HOWEVER. The previous point doesn't right away mean that he despises talking. Sure, he's not one for an idle chit-chat, but I feel like it’s a very frequent idea that he’s the brooding and sullen type who prefers grunting over speaking, kinda like Daryl Dixon (that's a huge compliment to Simon). I’d say, Simon is somewhere in between—more of a ‘I speak only when I want to/have something really meaningful to say’. If he's got something on his mind, he'll let you know. And, surprisingly, he has a way with words like the smoothest motherfucker ever.

Not surprisingly, he's a bit of a softie when it comes to animals, especially dogs. Not one to baby-talk when he sees a dog, he merely offers gentle pats on its head or side (if he's more familiar with the dog, I see him petting it like dads do lol). He’s also very careful about the animals and makes sure not to touch one without asking the owner first. As for service dogs, he's especially careful, keeping a safe distance and showing due respect for their role.

You know you're gonna have a K9 at your home when you get with this man.

He's not a fan of surprises or gifts, because he wasn't raised in a family full of hugs and "I love you's" or selfless acts of affection. He struggles to convey his gratitude in the conventional manner, so it's often expressed, albeit indirectly, through acts of service. No matter what it is that you've gifted him, he's grateful for the thought and consideration all the same.

But you better believe he will surprise you in turn. He goes out of his way to procure anything and everything you so much as mention wanting, be it a trivial trinket or something more significant. He's always listening, always paying attention.

Not very into verbal compliments, but his eyes speak an entire novel about how he feels about you. Gentle glances, lingering stares, and silent admiration. He might not be overtly forthcoming with his praise, but one look is worth more than a thousand words.

Big spoon. He's a tad bit paranoid about having his back vulnerable—much like a cat and its exposed belly. It has nothing to do with trust—as he does trust you. It's merely a product of his inner paranoia, though there's a touch of protectiveness in there, too. Beacuse he'd much rather have you enveloped in his arms, ensuring him the sensation of protecting you with his whole body. Perhaps with time he would let you spoon him, but I wouldn't count on it early on in the relationship.

He's territorial, not in a jealous, envious, or controlling sense but rather in a protective and defensive manner. He doesn't like men or women making advances on you, especially unsolicited physical contact or overt flirting. While he won't try to be overbearing or overly assertive, he will make it abundantly clear that such behavior is uncalled for and unacceptable.

civilian!reader - get ready for some self-defense lessons. He'll ensure that you know basic moves that can give you the time to escape a dangerous situation. Simon is well-versed in the brutality of the world, and he won't sugarcoat anything. If you're in danger, you run; if you feel something's wrong, you run. He can't always be there to protect you. So he's drilled this mantra into your brain: no matter how strong, tough, skilled you think you are, you simply can't trust that your enemy won't wield a knife or gun.

But one of the very first things he's given you even before you two became a couple was a can of pepper spray.

He's a direct, straight to the point man, which is why he has no time for beating around the bush. There's no awkward tip-toeing with hints that may go unexplored, no subtle suggestions that may fall flat—he's all in. Whether it's on a mission, in bed, or an argument, Simon lays it all on the line because you're worth it. He will commit to you wholeheartedly, leaving nothing on the table, giving you everything he has to offer because you deserve nothing less.

You fell first, but he fell harder—this man adores you. Although he's not mushy, he won't shower you with affection and cute nicknames all the time, he loves you. And when Simon Riley loves someone, you can be damn sure he means it. His loyalty knows no limits and once he's attached to you, he'll never let go. He'll go through and beyond any lengths to make sure you're happy and safe.

Though he might not openly admit it, he likes it when you take the initiative, whether it's in bed, in your relationship, or just life in general. He values your opinions and respects and acknowledges your boundaries, and makes sure to let his own boundaries and needs be known as well. So, step up and make yourself heard, cause he will listen.

He values honesty highly and has a razor-sharp bullshit detector. Can smell bullshit from miles away, actually. Therefore, never, ever lie to him. Because he will uncover the truth, one way or another. Lies are the one thing that can shatter his trust beyond repair, making it a cardinal sin in his eyes. So, don't shy away from telling him the truth—no matter how difficult or inconvenient or painful it may be.

Now it gets a bit complicated here, because while he expects honesty from his s/o, Simon himself holds back some things. These are largely related to his past or the missions he has been on, the things he has seen. He doesn't want to lie to you, but he does it to protect himself and you. You just have to accept the fact that there are certain things he won't ever tell you.

Is capable of being absolutely terrifying without even trying, let alone when he wants to be. His height, muscles, and scars are a force to be reckoned with. So you don't have to be worried about going on a walk with him in the middle of the night or wearing something a bit more revealing, cause he will beat the living shit out of anyone who dares to touch you.

Absolutely no one can defeat him in arm wrestling or even come close to his grip strength.

Very awkward around babies, and I mean extremely awkward. Like Jane Smith holding a baby in Mr&Mrs Smith. He doesn't know a flying shit about caring for children, especially since he didn't have a positive parental influence growing up or any good role models. The subject of starting a family is still a bit sore; though he would likely grow more open to discussing it as time goes on. Still, a major aspect of his psyche seems terrified of becoming like his father.

Would die a thousand deaths for you.

[callofdudes]

Late little Valentine's thing for the boys, their love languages and how they show you affection 😊

This will only include 141. Was busy on my birthday and never got around to this. So before February ends. Can be platonic or romantic.

Heavy on physical affection. Any time he can squeeze in a hug, a high five or really anything, he will.

He's super into encouraging words and will call you something if he sees you passing by. "There's my favorite (lad/lass/lovely/soldier)"

His love language return and send is physical affection, so whenever you want to show him that you love him, physical affection will set him in the right mood.

For Valentine's Day he got you a box of chocolates you really like and a photo of himself, with comic Sans saying, "Don't let anyone steal your swag, this Valentine's."

To show you affection, he's only ever going to do what he knows you're comfortable with. If you're happy with a little peck, he'll go for it.

If you're smaller than him then he'll do that thing where he asks you to sniff his collar and then kisses your forehead. If you're bigger than him he will jump on you. Don't fight it. Hold him. Hold him!! Let him give you a nice good smooch. Don't be afraid- DON'T BE AFRAID! COME BACK!!! HE'S NOT FINISHED!!

Not a huge physical affections guy, just isn't his thing. However, how he does show affection is through acts of service.

Sometimes it may seem that Ghost is being bossy by not letting you do things or that he cleaned your room because he didn't think you could do it on your own. Truth is, he's showing you he loves you.

Ghost took time from his incredibly busy schedule to clean, or tidy, or do something that he knew was so minimal in the grand scheme he might not get praised, but he knows you'll like it.

That's why when he can't sleep at night he may clean. Sweep the common area and clean up the kitchen and wash dishes. Because he knows you guys will come in and need to use the space tomorrow and would appreciate it being clean.

That being said, please, please oh please praise him. I'm not saying he's starved but if you tell him he is doing a good job, or you're proud of him, or thankful for his help?? He might just cry. No, scratch that, he'll excuse himself to catch the waterworks.

You're speaking to his inner child when you praise him. Ghost doesn't do anything in return for praise, but when you offer it, oh please don't let go of him.

Simon knows some flower language, so naturally he goes out to get you some flowers. Whether you look like you'd typically be into flowers or not isn't the question. It's which ones he's getting you, and why.

He got you Azaleas as well as some lilies just to break up the pink. Azaleas being the equivalent of "Take care of yourself for me, temperance and fragile passion"

It's a subtle way, If you know, for him to tell you how he feels without having to say it. And with that he also gets you hotrods. No, not the car, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, here.

If you're smaller than him (which, in most cases you probably are, let's be for real) he'll lean over from behind you and simply rest his chin on the top of your head.

It's something of affection for him, watching the world with you quietly, relaxing with his head resting on yours. Simon's way of saying "I love you."

Gifts are his love language. Whenever he's out and about and he sees a trinket that reminds him of you he'll snatch it and bring it back.

He constantly does this and telling him he doesn't have to doesn't stop him.

For Valentine's Day he'll go all out. He'll buy you chocolate, some flowers to make your office window look a little prettier, and a card too.

To show him affection back, please praise him. Like Ghost, he had to fight a lot in the past for recognition or praise, so you saying "I really appreciate you, in glad you're here, you did a good job picking, you really know me" sends him spiraling.

He'll be at your heel the rest of the day, and you'll happily grant him praise and recognition without him having to claw and scratch for it.

Like John, he does kiss and touch to show affection to those he's close to. But if you are only comfortable with it. He's a mixed bag, and will kiss you all over every single day if he has permission.

If he doesn't, simple touches suffice. Bumping your shoulder on the way by or wrapping his arms around you from behind to smoosh his face into your neck or shoulder blades, depending on how tall you stand.

This man is no pussy, will straight up tell you he loves you and appreciates you. Will make you breakfast on the day and wake you up with a kiss, (or forehead kiss, or both)

He'll let you wear your comfy clothes and will make you stay in bed as you eat. If you couldn't have guessed, he serves through acts of service and gifts!

John Price is always right there, even after a long day to help out. Now, if you leave a trash bag for him on purpose, he'll be stubborn and won't take it out. But if it's on his own terms John will do just about anything for you. You call the shots.

If you want to stay in bed, then that's your call. He certainly isn't complaining. If you want to go out, then you'll go out!

He's a very traditional man, no matter who you are or your style, Price will give you the gentlemen's treatment. Flowers, a bag of chocolates (yes, a whole bag. Come on 141 get on his level)

He'll pretty much pamper you all day. Please pamper him back. He feels loved most when given physical affection and repaid with acts of service. If you clean the house so he doesn't have to then you're a dream.

But even if you just come up behind him and hug him, tell him you love him and appreciate him, that's enough to make his whole week.

You have to do it again though, because he swears that it just rubbed off and he forgot. Do it again. Don't be afraid. DO IT AGAIN.

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Before the Sun Rises // Chapter 4

Fresh Start

Pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

Summary: Time with a special friend has you and Joel eager to clear the air of tension that has been causing a rift between the two of you recently.

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: fluff, some family turmoil, and a brief/vague mention of potential SA ( nothing happened )

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“You look like crap,” your sister teases when she spots you laid out on the couch, nursing a cold glass of water and force-feeding yourself a cold pancake from the breakfast your mom had cooked hours ago.

“Shut up, Izzy,” you groan, angry at yourself for being so hungover.

“I guess you aren’t coming to town with us today?” she asks.

“No thanks,” you say, taking another nibble of your pancake.

Your mom walks around the corner, digging in her massive, cluttered purse for her keys while she speaks to you, “Izzy and I will be in town for most of the day. I have a lot of errands to run, and she needs some supplies for summer camp.”

You grunt an acknowledgment, still too nauseous to form many words.

 “And your father’s gone golfing with Richard; who knows how long they’ll be gone today,” she finishes as she motions Izzy toward the door to leave. Finally, the door closes behind them, and the house is washed in sweet, beautiful silence.

You finish choking down your pancake and chugging a glass of water before walking into the kitchen to search for aid. Thankfully, you find a bottle of ibuprofen and swallow two before trudging back upstairs for a shower.

You’d still be in bed, but you’d made plans to visit Mrs. Mildred way before you had the bright idea to have a girl's night out.

---

Mrs. Mildred was quite the character. When you were younger, you used to view her as the crabbiest old lady on the block.

Once, you accidentally hit a baseball into her yard, which shattered her car’s side mirror. She scolded you for days afterward. The incident made you steer clear of her, only exchanging forced hellos when necessary.

Fast forward to sophomore year of high school, when your parents volunteered for you to help Mrs. Mildred with gardening. She needed someone to plant hydrangeas in her yard, and your parents graciously offered your services without consulting you. Begrudgingly, you went over, expecting a grumpy older woman.

Mrs. Mildred was stern and precise in her instructions, but as you worked together, you noticed her wit and humor peeking through her no-nonsense façade. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to do it. You imagined that if her aging back were up to snuff, she’d never stoop low enough to ask some child for gardening help.

After the plants were in the ground, she invited you inside for refreshments. “Come on inside, honey,” she directed you. She walked inside without looking back to see if you obeyed. You did.

Once inside, she ushered you to her small, round, wooden kitchen table. “Thank you for your help today, dear; I know it’s no fun, but my back is too damn old to bend over like that anymore.”

You were surprised at her crass language, a smile ticking up the sides of your mouth. As you sat at the kitchen table together, sipping homemade lemonade and munching on sandwiches and snacks, you engaged in conversation, chatting away like old friends.

It dawned on you that Mrs. Mildred wasn’t just a grumpy old lady but a girl. A lonely one, especially after her husband’s passing many years ago. Beneath her tough exterior was a woman with many stories and experiences to share with whoever would listen.

From that day on, you started to see Mrs. Mildred in a new light. You greeted her more often and joined her on her porch for afternoon chats. Before you knew it, you had formed an unlikely friendship with the firecracker of a woman, Mrs. Mildred, who turned out to be a great companion and confidante.

---

After a cool shower, you feel much more alive, no longer teetering on the verge of nausea and cringing away from every bright light in your eyes. You dry your hair, letting it fall loosely down your back, and then get dressed for the day.

You choose a delicate, white sun dress that flows loosely across your body, ties into a bow at your back, and has a hem that falls right above your knee—a perfect, relaxed fit to keep you cool and comfortable. Then, you slip into a pair of sandals and head across the street.

As you approach her home across from yours, you smile at the hydrangea bushes blooming with colorful petals, reminding you of your first afternoon here many years ago.

When you reach her door, you can hear the faint sound of old jazz music drifting through her cracked windows. You knock, and a moment later, Mrs. Mildred opens the door, a bright smile spreading across her face at the sight of you.

“Well, look who finally decided to pay this old bird a visit,” she teases, “didn’t think I’d see you again before I kick the bucket.”

You laugh, “You know I’d be pissed if you croak before I got to see you again!” you tease right back, pulling her small frame into a hug.

Mildred was even older now, probably teetering around 80 years old. Her petite frame was bent with age as she’d shrunk since the last time you saw her. Her hair, still white as snow, was curled on the top of her head with a pair of reading glasses tucked into it.

“Come on in, dear; I was just putting on another pot of coffee.”

You follow her inside, taking in the familiar surroundings of her cozy living room. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and fresh linen.

Settling into one of her worn armchairs, you feel a sense of ease wash over you as Mrs. Mildred bustled about, prepping the coffee. Once everything was ready, she joined you and handed you a steaming cup. You took a sip, two sugars, and a whole lot of cream, just how you like it. You smile at the fact that she still remembers after all this time.

Settling into her armchair with a cup, she starts, “Now spill. Tell me something that’ll keep this old woman from dying of boredom. What have you been up to?”

You launch into your spiel about finally graduating but not knowing what you want to do next, about how your parents are pushing you to reach out and accept a job at Richard’s law firm.

She stops you, “Enough about all that; I don’t give a rat's ass about that man. Tell me what’s on your mind, really.”

You laugh, grateful she doesn’t amount your worth to your post-college plans like most people seem to do. So, you dive into a tale of college stories and your time abroad. Only pausing when she interjects her own commentary or asks If the boys you mentioned were ���anything to write home about.”

“Definitely not,” you respond. You sip your coffee, considering what you want to ask her.

“Millie, how’d you know when you’d found your husband?”  A genuine question, now turning the conversation more serious.

Mildred’s eyes sparkle with something mischievous momentarily before she barks a laugh, a crass joke probably on the tip of her tongue. But then she pauses, her laughter fading into a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Well, honey,” she begins gently, “I’ll spare you the dirty joke this time. When I met my Donald, it wasn’t something remarkable like what you see in those sappy romance movies. He was just a regular guy, rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold.”

She leaned back in her chair, lost in the memories of days gone by. “I knew he was the one for me when he stood by me through thick and thin. He loved me for me, and I never held any part of myself back from him. He saw everything, even the ugly parts, and never once wavered in his love and support. He made me laugh when I wanted to cry and held me close when life got tough. Even put up with my foul-mouthed humor without a single chide. He was my best friend.”

A wistful smile played on her lips as she continued, “You’ll know you found the one when they accept you for who you are, flaws and all. It won’t always be easy, but it's worth it. Real love is messy and imperfect. They might never fully understand you, but they must be with you through anything and everything. Always there when you need them and vice versa.”

You listened intently, touched by the sincerity of her words. Remembering again that her wisdom extended far beyond her crass jokes and witty remarks. “Were you ever worried about whether or not he’d like you for you?”

“Well,” she considers it for a moment, “If he didn’t, that just meant he wasn’t the one for me. So, I said to hell with it and showed him exactly who I was from the start.”

You smile, happy to hear that she’d found someone to love uniquely her, just as she is.

Just as you two are about to launch another conversation, a knock at her door rattles you. “I’ll get it,” she says, groaning as she pushes herself out of her armchair and shuffles toward the door.

“Joel! There you are, come on in,” she waves him inside.

Shocked, your head whips toward the door, and you watch Joel's burly figure enter the room. His shoulders stretch against a worn-looking t-shirt above a pair of loose-fitted jeans and signature work boots that thump loudly against the floor wherever he goes.

“What is it you needed help with this afternoon?” he asks, wiping his feet on the doormat before following her into the living room where you sit.

When he notices you, his strides halt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” he says, at a loss for words. “Didn’t know you had company; I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” the old woman waves him off, “Sit down and visit with us. I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee.”

Mildred shuffles into the kitchen, rattling around, while Joels sits on the couch.

“Feeling alright after last night?” He asks you, thankfully not giving you the silent treatment.

“Yeah, it was rough getting up this morning but I'm fine now,” you answer, sipping your coffee. “What about you and Tommy?”

Mildred reemerges from the kitchen, handing Joel a large mug of fresh black coffee, and settles back into her original chair.

“Had to drag him back home by the night's end.” He says before taking a sip from his mug. “By the time I drove him home and handed him off to Maria, I think he’d already passed out.”

“Sounds like he did his bachelor party right then,” Mildred chimes in with a laugh.

You look at her, confused about how she knew what they were up to last night.

She meets you with a satisfied look, “Don’t be surprised. You’re not my only friend in the neighborhood.” She nods toward Joel, “Joel’s been coming around to keep me company ever since you went off and left me.”

You look to Joel now, eager for an explanation. He looks down at his feet, almost shy and embarrassed. “I remembered you spent afternoons over here before you left. Figured she’d need some company, so I stopped by one day.”

 He looks at Mildred now with a half smile on his face. “Ever since then, she’s been exploiting my kindness for free work and rides to doctors' visits.”

The old woman cackles, “It’s the least you can do in exchange for my charming company.”

You smile, and your heart grows warm, knowing that Joel has been here to care for your dear friend in your absence.

Silence fills the air now, the tension between you and Joel still ever present, though lighter now than it has been. You avoid looking at each other too much, and Mildred seems to pick up on the awkward energy.

She breaks the silence, eyeing the two of you. “What’s going on with you two?”

Your eyes dart to hers, and Joel follows suit. “What do you mean?” you ask nervously.

There’s no way she’d know about whatever was happening between you and Joel. Whatever the growing tension was between the two of you, putting a block in your friendship, or whatever it was you had with him.

“I mean what I said. What have the two of you been up to lately? It’s summer break. I’m sure Sarah has been keeping you busy,” she says, looking at Joel before turning to you, “and you're free to do whatever now, too.”

“Right,” Joel says, relaxing, “Sarah’s been jumping at the bit to do something daily. She’s mostly excited about finally being allowed to go to summer camp this year with Izzy.”

“That’s right,” you chime in. “I heard about that. My sister won't stop talking about how excited they are. She’s actually out shopping for supplies with my mom today.”

“You finally gave in?” Mildred teases, “Took you long enough. Poor girl has been begging for years, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Joel concedes, “I just worry about her too much. A whole week away in a camp in the woods? That can’t be a good idea for a bunch of little girls. What if som-“

You cut him off, “She’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassure him. “I went when I was younger, and I’d hardly call it camp. It’s a bunch of air-conditioned cabins right off the interstate where they do arts and crafts for a week and learn how to start fires with flint.”

He grumbles something unintelligible. Millie smiles to herself across the room, sensing the tension ease.

“Oh!” she jumps up out of her chair. “Let me show you something, dear,” Mildred says as she shuffles over to a bookshelf and grabs an old, worn leather photo album. “Speaking of my dear Donald, let me show you this.”

Mildred brings the photo album with her as she sits on the couch next to Joel, who looks confused about what she’s talking about, having not been present for the earlier conversation.

Mildred waves you over. “Come have a look,” she says, patting the spot next to her on the couch.

Rising from your seat, you join her and Joel on the couch. Mildred in the middle as a nice buffer between the two of you.

She opens the book to display a collage of age-tinted pictures, some with frayed and yellowed edges. The first picture shows a small woman with a tenacious-looking expression, obviously a younger Mildred, and a tall, sturdy-looking man who you assume is her late husband.

You and Joel both lean in to get a better look.

“This was me and my Don right after we moved into this house.”

“Wow, Mildred, you’re a bombshell!” you compliment her.

“I sure used to be,” she agrees, “nothing but a bag of old bones now,” she chuckles.

She flips to the next page; the photo now depicts a younger Mildred in a beautiful satin wedding dress, a long sweeping veil, and some interestingly oversized puffy sleeves that must have been all the fashion back then. Her husband was dressed in a suit with his arms wrapped around her.

“What a dress,” you comment.

“Sure is somethin’,” Joel adds, failing to hide his distaste for the gaudy fashion choices.

“Don’t judge me too harshly; it was all the craze back in my day. This was the day we were married nearly 60 years ago.”

“I’m sure that was an amazing day,” you offer.

“It was, well, for the most part.” Mildred flips the page, showing a picture of the newlywed couple sharing their first dance in a nearly empty reception hall. “Marrying him was one of the best days of my life, no doubt, but we didn’t have that many guests. My parents were dead set against me marrying him.”

“Why?” you ask, intrigued. You see Joel raise an eyebrow across from you, also interested in the story.

“Well, there are many reasons they came up with to try not to like him. He was older, though many people didn’t care about that much back then. His parents came from nothing: seamstresses for a mother and factory worker for a father. My parents raised hell when they found out I was seeing him. They thought their daughter deserved someone in the same tax bracket, like a lawyer or doctor.”

She flips the page again, displaying a picture of her and her husband holding a baby girl, her oldest daughter, you assume.

“When they found out we were engaged, they stopped talking to me, cut off my funds, and tried to blackmail me into leaving him. But they didn’t know the wealth I saw in him,” she continues lovingly. “He was a good man and cared for me like no one else. He laughed with me, cried with me, and fought like hell with me, too, but loved me regardless. I felt the happiest I’d ever been every day I spent with him. They never completely came around; we were always the family's black sheep after that, but it was all worth it.”

“It seems like you made the right decision. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone talk about their spouse that way.” You said, and it was true.

“You two listen up now,” she instructs, nodding to you and Joel. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned all these years, you need to live life for yourself. Don’t give a damn what anybody else has to say. I was shunned by my family and many of my so-called friends, too, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t more important than spending my life with the man I loved. In the beginning, I was scared of the backlash. All the external pressure got to me, and I broke things off with Donald briefly before realizing it was a colossal mistake. We lost precious time together before I came to my senses and ran back to him. I’d give anything to go back and get even just a few days more with him now.”

It was as if Mildred knew what was happening between you and Joel. She didn’t realize just how applicable this conversation was to you.

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting in Mildred's living room.

Joel shares how well his contracting business is going, especially with several new big-time clients in the city practically throwing money at him to take on all their projects.

 Before he can get into much detail, Mildred interjects, “And what about Tommy and Maria? Engagement party soon, right? Do they need help organizing?”

“Yes, mam, it is,” Joel replies, “and no, I think Maria is doing a fine job with everything. Tommy is actually pretty excited; he was going on about color schemes and ambiance last week.” Joel chuckles, “Didn’t think I'd see the day he cared about party planning details other than what drinks he’d be bringing, but the boy is in deep with Maria. Several of her friends have agreed to help with setup and hosting, so there's nothing left to do now but wait.”

“ I look forward to it,” Mildred says. “Finally, giving this old bird a chance to dress up and socialize. Your folks coming too?” she says, looking at you now.

“Yeah, we’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Mildred yawns before getting up from the couch to stretch. “I hate to run y'all off, but I think I need a bit of a nap.”

Joel stands, offering his arm to Mildred if she needs help shuffling to the bedroom, but she swats him away.

 “Need anything before we go, Millie? What was it you called me over here for anyways?” Joel questions.

“Oh, don’t worry about it; we’ll get to that next time. Can you walk her home for me, dear?”

You protest, “Millie, I live right across the street. I don’t need –“

She cuts you off. “I’m not senile yet, dear; I know that. But he’s going to do what I asked him to anyways, won't you, Joel,” she finishes, giving him a firm look that leaves no room for arguing.

“Yes, Mam.”

Without further discussion, you all say goodbye. With a click of the front door closing behind you, you find yourself alone with Joel.

Not waiting to be led home by him like a child, you begin walking toward your house. Over your shoulder, you call back to him, “You really don’t have to walk me home, Joel.”

“I’m scared of what she will do to me if I don’t,” he jokes before his much longer strides allow him to catch up to you and walk side by side. After a beat of silence, he continues, “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you anyways.”

You cut your eyes in his direction, surprised by his words. “Oh,” you say, “about what?”

He doesn’t look at you; he looks straight ahead as he walks with one hand by his side and the other rubbing the back of his neck, his telltale sign of discomfort.

“’ Bout last night. And uh, about everything, really. I didn’t mean to cause a scene last night; I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Sure, you had been annoyed with him last night, insinuating you were a drunk mess who couldn’t take care of herself. But after you got home and heard his voice on the phone, clearly worried about whether or not you made it home, it chilled the brewing anger you'd had toward him.

“It’s alright. I actually was going to thank you. If today's hangover is an indication of how drunk I was last night, then I get why you would have been worried about how I was getting home. Lucas, got me back safe, no problem.”

“Lucas,” Joel repeats his name, his voice a bit drier than before, and you think you see him roll his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t think you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I don’t know if I trust him.”

A beat of silence follows as the two of you continue to walk. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out Joel’s disdain for Lucas before it clicks. Prom night.

The night that should’ve been the best night of your high school life ended with you in tears over how Lucas treated you. It had left you crying in the arms of Joel Miller, who promised he'd deal with Lucas if he ever bothered you again.

“Oh,” you say, pausing as the memory floods your thoughts. You’re surprised Joel even remembers that from so many years ago.

Your eyes are on the ground, and your face is warm with embarrassment because he clearly remembers that emotional moment.

Joel halts his stride as well, coming to a stop beside you. “The last time I’d heard you say anything about him, it wasn’t good. Then I saw him there, leading you to his truck without your friends. I thought.. well, I couldn’t let you go with him without knowing if you were too drunk or if you were comfortable leaving with him.”

Guilt comes crashing down on you. You’d been so pissed at Joel but hearing things from his point of view, the way things must have looked, and given his background knowledge of Lucas, it all makes sense now.

You finally glance up, meeting his warm brown eyes in the light of day. “I know what It must've looked like. My friends and I had caught up with Lucas earlier in the night, and he seemed to have changed, so I took him up on his offer to drive me home. That’s it.” You let a small smile appear on your face, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Any time.” He smiles back, “I mean it.”

The sincerity in his voice sends another wave of emotion through you. Having been in such a weird place with Joel lately, you’ve forgotten the kind of man he is. He’d always looked out for you, always been there when you didn’t know who else to turn to.

Maybe it clouded your vision and led you to believe you were seeing signs of something more between the two of you when, in reality, it was just wishful thinking.

You've built up one-sided affection and snapped at him the other night outside of your house when the way he’d been acting around you didn’t fit that narrative.

Breaking eye contact, you take a deep breath and exhale. “Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you the other night after dinner. It’s weird being back home. I was a kid when I left, but I’ve come back as an adult. I’ve been away for years and feel like a new person now, but my parents don’t see that. They treat me like they always have like I'm too young and inexperienced to know what's good for me.”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, but you keep going.

“But you’ve never treated me that way; you never made me feel less than, and I guess I got confused and.-“

“Hey,” Joel finally interjects, saving you from rambling into how you may have misconstrued his attention and embarrassed yourself by assuming it was something more.

You feel his palm land on your shoulder, rubbing a soothing thumb back and forth as he steps closer. Despite the heat of the summer sun, chills prickle up your spine.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were right; I was being an asshole. You’re not a kid no more, hell anyone who spends any time with you should know that by now. I don’t know what I was thinking, acting the way I did. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Can we just start over?” You ask. “Be friends again, for real this time?”

“I’d like that.” A smile lifts the edge of his lips and crinkles the skin around his eyes.

You and Joel finally finish the walk back to your house in comfortable silence, where he leaves you at the door.

“Welcome home,” he says in that signature smooth rasp.

“Good to be back,” you answer with a smile, and this time it's true, as you slip inside.

With the air cleared and things between you and Joel back to normal, the weight has been lifted, and you are eager for what's to come this summer.

[i-yap]

Richard John Grayson. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now is the song you sing at Karaoke in the living room. that and other songs. . By the way, you send the clothes to the dry cleaners and a cleaning service comes to clean the place about 3 times a week, with the exception of a forbidden room [it's where he keeps his Justice things] he also asks you for help in certain cases to have the point of view of his intelligent girlfriend (not only are we pretty, we are also intelligent) but he doesn't really involve you that much, you go to the batcave but you don't go beyond there, you don't go where the danger is, it would kill him to lose you even more knowing that it was his fault for putting you in trouble. risk. They both like to cook Sometimes but they almost always ask for prepared food [they are tired or they are being lazy]. I think that life with Dick Grayson when you are the one is Sweet and happy, [when you are not worried about his life or they do not have the typical slight fights] but in general it is the closest to Perfect.

Thank you very much for writing to the Batfamily. I love you .

Those headcanons are so true tbh-

Domestic Dick Grayson x reader

Honestly I kind of love the simplicity of chores.

But grayson grew up spoilt( sorry not sorry). So he just pays big bucks for simple chores and so rather than hiring from those big cleaning businesses you just hire small workers and tip them shit lot.

Also he is the perfect partner to just dance in the living room with, Sit on the kitchen counter and eat tubs of ice cream while laughing about something stupid .

Washing his hair after patrol. Him detangling yours.

He is up and good with a lot of things- Need someone to paint your nails, do face masks or give you a foot rub while you shit talk your boss...he's your man. He is the most ( and sorry only) guy out of the batboys + bruce that actually enjoys and is confident enough in his masculitnity to do all this . Others will do because they love / cant say no to their s/o but even as that is relevant to grayson, He genuinely enjoys it.

the really intimate chores he still kind of wants to do with you- like cooking . folding blankets or picking groceries. Stuff he can do with you- make an activity. It gives him a little of that domestic life he always wanted. He just goes really soft and warm and fuzzy when he gets to do it with you. If you ask him why he looks lost in thought he tells you he's gonna marry you or that you're his forever. Also he sighs, pulls you into his arms , says the line and then leans to kiss your forehead.

He starts to love the smiths(or a smililar band) after meeting you. Like once , early in your relationship or maybe the "talking, flirting" stage of itm you guys got into and elevator and the popular "if a double decker busss" started to play and you commented how it feels like you're in a movie. (bonus points if you hum it) and man just spins you into his arms, dips you and kisses you so hard that even 20 mins after leaving the elevator you were-woozy. Now everytime that song comes up he stops the car/ or in the middle of a store or even in your kitchen, he just dips and kisses you. Cuz the only way this man is dying is dying by your side.

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

Creepypasta Love-Language

Request : Open!

Characters : Jeff the Killer, BEN Drowned, Eyeless Jack, “Ticci” Toby, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie, Jane the Killer, Nina the killer

Notes : SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY! Anyways thank you for reading, hope you have a lovely day !

Jeff the Killer :

Now hear me out, but Acts of Service. JUST LISTEN OK! My idea of Jeff isn’t a crazy touchy person, just not his thing. However, he deeply appreciates you doing small things for him. Cleaning his wounds and getting the stains out of his clothes. His favorite is when you make dinner, but put his portion in the fridge for him to heat up when he gets home. When he does arrive, your asleep on the couch with a note telling him dinner is in the fridge. In return, he does small things for you, such as not getting blood everywhere and helping pay bills (he steals money from victims)

BEN Drowned :

Quality time. Anytime with him is meaningful. Just sitting on his bed, cuddling and playing videogames. Sitting at the island in your kitchen while you make a frozen pizza for dinner, just cutting up and enjoying each others presence. Anytime he can get with you is perfect, he doesn’t care what your doing. He also loves to talk to you, listen to him rant about all his favorite interest and he’s fallen head over heals for you

Eyeless Jack :

Oddly enough, but physical touch. If EJ is letting you touch him, he trust you A LOT! He adores cuddling, especially on rainy days where he can’t go out and do stuff. Just sitting in bed, maybe scrolling through your phone, and listening to the rain with his arms wrapped around you. He also does small things in public to make others aware that your his. His hand on your back, arm around your shoulder, something small but noticeable. Like many of the other pastas, he would fight anyone for you

“Ticci” Toby :

Gifting Giving, both giving and receiving. They absolutely love it whenever you give them something, even if it’s super small. In return, Toby will bring you anything they think you’ll like, or anything that reminds them of you. It’s their way of showing that they think of you, that your always on their mind.

Tim / Masky :

Acts of Service, hands down. Tim especially loves it whenever he comes home and there’s a nice hot meal cooking or laying out on the dining room. His laundry is randomly washed, the bed is made, anything small that he doesn’t have to do. In return, Tim does whatever he can do to help you around the house. Any kind of chores, yard work, anything at all, just say it and it’s done.

Brian / Hoodie :

Physical touch. My idea of Brian is a very touchy person, very touchy. Anytime he can get his hands on you, he will. Pulling you closer in a room full of people, holding your hands and dragging you across the house, anything to do with touching. He also enjoys the touch! Randomly hugging him from behind, kisses, anything.

Jane the Killer :

In all honesty, I think it would be gift giving. I could see Jane having a lot of them, just like a few other pastas, but Jane adores giving you gifts. Need more nail polish? You’ve got it. In need of a new painting for your wall? Get in the car, your going home decor shopping. Jane just loves to spoil you and she loves to see the smile on your face anytime you receive a new gift. Jane loves anything you do, from physical touch to acts of service!!

Nina the Killer :

Another gift giver! Nina, similar to Jane, loves any and all kind of affection, they eat it up. But Nina herself loves to give you small things. They will come home one afternoon, more bubbly than normal, then pull out a small rock and smile brightly. She picked it up cuz it reminded her of you!! Duh!!! She doesn’t go crazy with the money thing, unless she sees something she knows you’ll love, but it’s mostly small trinkets and such.