#I typed all this out over three days ago and then got tired and busy and burnt out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 15 days ago

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“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind.

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later.

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words.

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?”

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out.

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture.

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them.

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable.

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position.

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes.

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know.

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell. It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more. He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration.

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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floralpascal · 1 year ago

Text

Taking Care of You

Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)

Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise

A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away

You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days.

Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet.

…which was why his reaction now was so surprising.

You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”

Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”

“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”

You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”

He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders.

You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”

Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”

“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop.

At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now.

You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”

For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it.

As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while.

Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him.

“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?” His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, “Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”

“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”

John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”

“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”

He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”

Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him.

“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did.

“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”

He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over.

Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration.

You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him.

Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached.

When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”

With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.

Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through.

You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head.

“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”

Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next.

You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation.

“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”

You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it.

It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”

At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs.

Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”

He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure.

You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-

John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.

You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”

“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”

Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach.

Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were.

“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”

You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”

Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.

John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was.

His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night.

But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.

“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”

Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.

He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”

Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming.

Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”

Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”

That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while.

Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.

Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss.

The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

“Feelin’ better?”

“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed.

“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.

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isak-dot-gov · 5 months ago

Text

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison.

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?”

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe #womenswrestling

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thatgirlstrawberry · 2 years ago

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Forgotten Dates, Hurt Feelings

Feb. Request - 2

In which Spencer forgets a date night with his wife

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt feelings, fluff, mentions of sex

Y/N smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had just finished getting ready for her monthly date night that Spencer promised her. She had on a tight fitted black dress, her hair was curled to perfection and she stood a whole three inches taller with her sparkly black heels. Her lips were a dark red color that she only wore on nights out with him and only him. She knew he loved the way it would look smudged by the end of the night.

When she went out with her husband and their children, she didn't go all out on what she wore because it was usually to zoos or grocery stores.

She loved her children. She really did but God, did she need someone one on one time with her husband. It was always 'mom' this and 'mom' that. They never got the chance to even complain to their father because he was always at work. And when he did come home, he never had time for her because he was spending time with his kids. But the time they were in bed, Y/N was too tired to do anything, much less do him.

The doorbell rang and she pulled down her dress a little and hurried out of her room. Her two kids were on the couch watching TV.

"Ashley's here, guys!" She told them excitedly as her heels clicked down the hallway.

She got to the door and opened it quickly. A red-haired girl in a white sweater and baggy jeans stood with a big smile on her face. "Hey, auntie Y/N!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming and watching the kids tonight." Y/N smiled, stepping out of her way and letting her in. "Spencer should be home any minute now."

"No problem! I love hanging out with my cousins."

Y/N smiled at this and walked into the living room. Her youngest was now hanging upside down on the couch with her feet in the air.

“Bo, Diane! You’re cousin Ashley is here!” She exclaimed, grabbing their attention.

Both of their eyes widened and they scrambled off of the couch, attacking Ashley’s legs.

Y/N smiled at them. “Thank you so much again for this, Ash. I really need a night out.”

“No problem! Also you look so good!”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “Aw, thank you!” She looked down at her children. “Bed by 9? And if you can’t get them down, don’t worry about it, we’ll handle it when we get home.”

Ashley nodded.

“Okay, I’ve got to go. Spencer is meeting me at the restaurant at 7.” She smiled, walking towards the coat closet to get her jacket.

“See you after your date!” Ashley called.

Y/N excitedly slipped her coat on over her dress and left the house, grabbing her keys on the way out.

.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, leaving the radio on so she could finish out her jam session she and Harry Styles were having.

When the song ended she smiled and looked at the clock on the screen.

7:01

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the parking lot for a minute before getting out and going inside.

The restaurant was busy. It was a Friday night and it was February so, she understood.

The hostess smiled at her as she walked up to the podium. “Hi there!” She beamed. “What can I do for you?”

Y/N grinned back. “Hello! My husband made a reservation under the name Reid.” She said.

“Gotcha!” The hostess said, looking down to type on her computer. Her furrowed brows made Y/N fidget with her wedding ring. “Uh… I’m not seeing a reservation under Reid. Could it be under a different one?”

Y/N but her lip. “Spencer?” She shrugged.

The woman hummed and shook her head. “Mm, I’m sorry. I’m not seeing that.”

Weird. I could have sworn I told Spencer to book two weeks ago.

“But, it’s your lucky day! I just had a table for two open up in the back area. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Y/N sighed in relief and placed a hand to her chest. “Oh my goodness, that would be great. Thank you so much!”

The hostess waved her hand and began to walk back to the table.

It was in a cute little secluded area, perfect for date night. Vines filled with flowers hung around the walls and ceiling and there were pretty fairy lights all around.

“I’m assuming you’d like to wait for your husband to start ordering?” She asked.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, thank you so much.”

The hostess nodded and walked away.

Y/N pulled out her phone and shot Spencer a quick text.

Y/N: Hey honey, are you almost here?

She slipped her phone back in her coat pocket and let her eyes explore the place a little more and did a little people watching.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer pulled into his driveway, turning off the car and letting out a heavy sigh. His head fell back against the head rest.

He had a tough week. His case he worked on went terribly. All he wanted to do was spend some restful time with his family.

And if the kids were asleep, which they should have been it was almost 9, he would just curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and his beautiful wife.

He got out of the car and walked inside his home, taking his coat off and tossing his keys in the bowl, not noticing that Y/N’s weren’t there.

He walked through the hallway and into the living room where his kids sat staring at the TV, too engrossed to even notice that he was there.

He heard dishes clanking in the kitchen and the sound of running water.

So he slipped past the couch and into he kitchen where he thought he’d find his wife but instead he found his 17 year old niece in law with her back turned to him, washing dishes.

She spun around when she felt his eyes on her.

“Uncle Spencer?” She asked loudly. “What are you doing here?”

He furrowed his brows. “I live here? W-what are you doing here, Ashley?” He asked, glancing around.

“I’m watching the kids… for you and aunt Y/N…” She spoke slowly, he confusion growing. “Where is she?”

“Y/N- shit!” He gasped and checked his watch.

9:05

“Shit, shit, shit!” He cursed, a wave of realization washing over him. He was soon spinning around and rushing to the front door.

When he got the foyer, he froze. Y/N was there closing the door with a McDonald’s bag in hand. She had a sad look on her face as she tossed her keys into the bowl.

She looked up at him and gave a weak smile, walking past him into the kitchen. “Y/N, baby?” He called following her.

She set the food down on the counter when she reached the kitchen. “Mommy, daddy!” Diane screeched when she saw her parents.

She got up from the floor and quickly rushed to them. She scooped Diane up into her arms and patted Bo on the head as he hugged her legs.

“Did you guys have fun with Ashley?” She asked, widening her eyes and smiling at them.

Spencer could tell it was a fake smile.

Both kids nodded and went on and on about their time with Ashley. “I’m glad you guys had fun! But it’s time for bed, kiddos.” She kissed each of their heads and hugged them tight. She looked up at her husband. “Spence can you put them to bed? I’m starved.” She shook her head.

Spencer nodded. “O-okay.” He bent down to take Bo in one arm and took Diane from Y/N with the other and left the room, taking them upstairs.

“How were they?” She asked the girl, sitting on the bar stool and opening the McDonald’s bag.

Ten minutes later, Spencer came back down from getting the kids to bed and he sighed, glancing at Ashley and then at his wife.

“Thank you for tonight, Ash. I left some money on the key table for you.” Y/N smiled. “Bye hon.”

Ashley nodded and waved at them before leaving.

A moment of silence was over the husband and wife until Spencer spoke. “Y/N, I am so so sorry.” He said, sitting next to her.

Y/N looked over at him. “I know.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just— how did you forget? I called you eight times.”

Spencer furrowed his brows and felt his pockets and took out his phone. “Shit, it’s on silent.” He shook his head.

Y/N nodded. “And we’ve also been talking about this since… last month. You have an eidetic memory, Spencer.”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on her halfway covered thighs. “I know, baby. I— I’ve had a tough week. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He tilted his head to the side.

“That was so embarrassing.” She shook her head. “I sat in a restaurant for an hour all dressed up. People gave me sad looks and it’s like I was in high School again getting stood up by a boy.” She looked down and placed her hands on his.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week.” She sighed. Spencer shook his head. “I shouldn’t be this upset.”

“No, honey, I’m sorry.” He said. “You’re here all day, everyday and I completely put you on the back burner and I know how much time away means to you.” He whispered. “You deserve to be mad at me.”

Y/N but her lip and stood up, Spencer did the same. “I could never stay mad.” She smiled. “Besides, we still have Valentine’s Day,” She shrugged. “And Ash will be free, so…” She slid her hands up his chest.

He looked down at her. “What if she has plans?”

Y/N smiled. “I love the girl but she’s hopeless.” She shook her head with a small chuckle.

Spencer laughed. “That’s so mean.” He told her, leaning down to peck her lips three times before giving her a long kiss.

She hummed and pulled away. “You don’t get wife-style kisses.” She shook her head. “You stood me up.”

Spencer groaned. “Have I told you how beautiful and sexy you look tonight?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Flattery won’t work either, Reid.”

She pulled away and spun around heading for the stairs, her heels clicking quietly. “Baby, please!” He gasped, feigning offense. “I’ll do the thing you like!” He called out. He was practically chasing her up the stairs.

“No sir.” Y/N hummed, narrowly escaping his grabby hands.

“Oh, don’t call me sir if you’re not gonna let me fu- ow!“

Y/N burst into a quiet fit of laughter as she spun and realized that her husband was so desperate that he fell up the stairs trying to get to her.

————————

Heyyyyyyy

This was requested! I hope it’s just how you wanted it!

Also I would love to know how y’all would react in this situation bc I would be HEATED but the requester wanted her to be non-petty 😭

Feel free to request a fic!

#spencer fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader

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vervainandspritz · 2 months ago

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Not Now, Not Ever

Part 1

Sorry it took so long. I was busy.

The view was almost pleasant. Where ‘almost’ was the key word in the eyes of a person who spent most of their life seeing it: a tall building in the city center, surrounded by even taller expectations of people who somehow got there. In recent years, more and more people were finding a way to earn time. Whether it was by honestly earning it, luck or tearing it out of some poor bastard who entered the city in search of cheap pleasure and a good time, unfortunately encountering such a frequent guest. Death.

Because that's what Dayton was known for: cheap pleasure and death.

No matter how much time passed, the luridness of Dayton lingered in Y/N’s deepest thoughts and memories. Thus the view here wasn't too bad. Dark eyes closely watched people who'd pass by the building, as her hand twirled her pen.

What a silly habit it was.

It helped her focus, at the same time ensuring that her eyes would not wander to the man sitting on the other side of the large office. Sighing deeply, Y/N leaned forward as her elbows made contact with the desk before reaching for the keyboard. The combination of symbols and numbers created password she knew by heart, typing it in within a single glance.

Hundreds of files, cases hidden under certain codes, were only known to the timekeepers who belonged to the group called A6. A6 consisted of three members. One of them was stationed ten floors higher, with gold letters on his office door, wrinkles on his face and the whole system in his hands. The second member was sitting directly in front of Y/N, separated by ten feet of distance and his stone cold expression. Raymond Leon. Even though Greenwich was bursting at the seams with people who looked permanently young, he was one of the few people she ever encountered who… never changed, not even slightly.

He had a blank expression adorning his face accompanied by scars crossing his pale skin. Weirdly bright, blue eyes dispassionately observed the environment he'd find himself in, no matter where and when. His hair slicked back perfectly, which sometimes drove her mad when she'd wake up in a worse mood.

How could he possibly do it? Not a single strand of stray black hair on his forehead throughout all the years they worked together. Scoffing quietly she rolled her eyes, realizing that her thoughts wandered once again.

It wasn't the best day. She usually had focus, but the switch she learned to make going through the entrance of the building seemed to not work very well today. Her mind was consumed with the wistfulness of the free will she used to have in the past.

Before it all started. Before she became something more than Y/N Y/L/N. Before becoming a Timekeeper.

Several decades ago when she had more in her than this fucking badge in the pocket of her leather coat.

As she suddenly got up, the armchair rolled with a screeching sound. Raymond's attention shifted to Y/N as he raised his eyebrows, looking over his screen at her feminine silhouette.

He didn't say a word, even though he wanted to ask.

She didn't say a word, even though she saw him looking.

Passing by his desk, she grabbed a lighter wordlessly as she moved towards the window, opening it wide on the arms length. The disparate feelings of fresh air and the burning nicotine filling up her lungs was all she needed at the moment.

Feeling the not quite unpleasant scent of tobacco in the air, Raymond was just about to get up to join his colleague in the window when suddenly the door swung open.

“Leon, Y/L/N” A forty year old looking woman stood in the doorway clutching onto a file with a fierce expression on her face. This felt like a breath of fresh air after spending several hours with Raymond’s impassiveness, Y/N thought. “Jameson was found dead thirty miles out of Dayton. We're dropping the case.” She said in a tired voice. Not waiting for an answer, the woman took a step back before disappearing behind the black door.

Y/N scoffed with annoyance. It was the cherry on top of her already bad mood.

“Sure, I only worked on it for two weeks. No biggie.” Her voice was stuffed with sarcasm. Her barely contained frustration filled the now silent room, getting a chuckle out of Raymond.

“In a great mood, aren't we?” He replied with a blank expression, playful mockery in his tone that he used so often, almost like a tool towards Y/N.

Getting up he closed the file, before approaching the window that she stood by. He pulled a pack of menthol cigarettes out of his coat and snatched the lighter out of her hand.

Y/N didn't reply, glancing sideways at him while taking a drag.

“Kinda funny for someone who can't even smoke like a man.” She replied smoothly, without missing a beat causing him to slightly lift one corner of his lips.

“You're enough of a man for both of us.” came out of his mouth along with a trail of smoke. Y/N realized it was only the second sentence he said to her that day, and yet, she had enough of his talking.

Putting her cigarette out, Y/N passed by him, getting back to work and leaving him standing there. Finally, she managed to get to work.

The weather was windy, the sensation of fresh air glazing his skin felt good accompanied by the scent of her perfumes and smoke. Strangely calming, even though he couldn't put his finger on what she smelled like. It's not like it matters, anyway, he thought watching over the busy city center. People rushing places even as the sun started to set was not a surprise, as Greenwich barely slept bustling with life.

Raymond rarely experienced the time where he could just be. Without pacing and his mind being on constant overdrive.

Just like now, standing by the window and pondering on the scent of his colleague's perfume, a calmness settled somewhere between his ribs. He realized that after so many years spent here in this building, with a steely badge on his chest, and with the sound of Y/N’s nails clacking against the keyboard in the background, he felt at home.

***

The whole day passed uneventfully, spent on typical, boring office work. They’d clash every now and then during the rare cigarette and coffee breaks. It was more to break the tension than out of spite; a practiced routine.

While the ticking of the clock used to be a menacing sound some years ago, now it just meant that the end of her shift was getting closer. Eventually Y/N logged out of the system, leaning back on her chair as she scanned over her few belongings on the desk.

One would think that spending most of her days for several years here, she'd have more knick knacks lingering around, but her desk was neat. Almost like a brand new working space. Y/N believed there was no need for additional chaos in her space.

As she stood up, throwing the coat over her shoulders, Raymond didn't move or look up, focused on his tasks, or at least he made himself look like it.

He almost never finished his work when others did. Some people in the office even wondered whether he’d spend his nights there sometimes. So it wasn't new to see him remaining seated as Y/N zipped up her coat, gathered her belongings, and shoved them in her purse before heading out. No words were said as the door shut behind her.

Only when complete silence filled the room did Raymond allow himself to relax a little. He slumped into the armchair as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Subconsciously, he regretted how the sweet scent of her perfume faded away when in her absence.

***

Y/N couldn't help but feel bitterness. She remembered the time when she felt relief arriving home. That feeling was long gone once the hope of turning the apartment into an actual home faded. It was hard to make peace with, but there was nothing she couldn't handle.

Not anymore.

Y/N took a long shower and changed into more comfortable clothes. Subconsciously she skipped the kitchen, as she didn't feel like eating anything.

Wine was another story though, Y/N thought, chuckling when she grabbed her favourite kind. Not bothering to get a glass, she headed to the living room and settled onto her couch. She took her sweet time drinking, smoking, and letting herself dive into her chaotic and melancholic thoughts. Driven by the sour feeling on the tip of her tongue, Y/N pulled out her phone and scrolled to the unanswered message that had been sitting there for longer than it should have. She finally typed her reply.

“Okay, one date. Tomorrow 8 PM” she sent, tossing her phone aside before she'd change her mind.

A deep sigh left her lips, followed by a chuckle. What a mess.

***

“Fuck!” Raymond exclaimed, followed by a hiss when the heavy door made contact with his back, tearing him out of his thoughts and forcing him to stop reading the file he was holding. Turning around he noticed Y/N entering the office.

She couldn't help but let out a giggle at his angered expression before shrugging and raising her eyebrows.

“Not sure if anyone ever told you that, but Ray,” she started with a cheeky smirk, slowly becoming more serious as she took a step forward, her hand landing on his shoulder, pretending like she was massaging it. “it's not the best idea to casually stand by the door. You might get hit.” Y/N finished with a mockingly serious tone, causing him to roll his eyes and shaking her hand off his body.

“You’re in a strangely good mood. Found a penny on your way here?” He shot back, matching her tone, narrowing his eyes as she chuckled instead of rolling her eyes as she always does.

“Nope, just can't wait to finish my shift today.” She answered honestly, walking over to her desk and dumping her purse on it.

Seeing her in such an unusual state, Raymond felt a weird warmth which bothered him, like every unwanted feeling did.

“Don't worry, I'm sure your empty apartment and book won't mind if you come back late.” He said, more bitter than usual, seeing the lack of reaction.

“Actually I have plans. I don't know if you ever heard of such a thing.” She replied smoothly, slicking her hair back into a neat ponytail and keeping up the eye contact. Raymond laughed out loud, making her look at him weird.

“Yeah, sure, and I'm actually going bowling later.” He mocked arrogantly, shaking his head lightly and running his hand through his perfectly slicked back hair. Y/N felt the dig somewhere deep inside, but refused to let him see it.

“To each their own, but with your size it might be an issue to hold the bowling ball properly.” Y/N replied calmly, sitting down.

Her words hung in the air as Raymond chose to ignore her.

The entirety of her ten hour shift passed quickly, and before Ray even realized, she was gone. Once again, she left a trail of her intoxicating perfume and her perfectly neat desk.

His own desk, on the other hand, was covered in all kinds of papers, reminding him of the amount of work he willingly put upon himself.

Time always passed smoothly when he'd throw himself into the whirlwind of work. He reread some cases over and over until his sharp eyes picked up on details that an average Timekeeper wouldn't notice. That's why he was the best at what he did.

Sometimes a small crisis got a hold of him, filling his head up with unwanted thoughts about the lack of actual sense in his almost eighty year old life. Raymond would never allow himself to indulge into spiraling down memory lane, as the cloudy moments from his past would try to make their way into the view. Ten minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into three when finally he stopped his work. He felt the burning need for some nicotine.

Raymond rolled up his shirt sleeves, took one cigarette out of the box, and settled in his usual spot at the nearby window.

He watched the almost empty street in silence. His arm hung in the air with intentions of taking another drag when he suddenly heard a familiar giggle.

Narrowing his eyes, Raymond focused on the couple slowly walking down the street.

He saw a taller man with a sheepish smile in the company of a beautiful woman, wearing a tight but sophisticated black dress and heels with a denim jacket draped over her shoulders. An obviously oversized jacket. They talked while laughing every now and then. A smile was constantly plastered on her dark red lips.

If asked, Raymond wouldn't be able to answer why his jaw tensed so badly at the sight. He couldn’t explain how the burning in his body overpowered the burning on his fingers as the cigarette burned to the filter. Scoffing with pure anger, he threw the cigarette away before pulling down the blinds as he slumped into his chair.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing deepened. Raymond knew he wasn't wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair in a messy manner, ruining his perfect hairstyle.

He couldn't tell what infuriated him more; the way he reacted to the sight of Y/N accompanied by another man, or the way he subconsciously responded seeing her in such circumstances.

Taglist!

@kittenonpluto @candlelover @4ria790 @xsweetcatastrophe @cillianinlove @lau219 @theangelofbastogne @sasha28x @the-buddy-things

I can't tag some people, I don't know why. Sorry. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part! Bye!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #raymond leon smut #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon #raymond leon in time #in time

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weixuldo · 1 year ago

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Pancakes and Pastries

Linecook/Roommate! Anakin x GN!Reader

a/n: this is based on this lovely asks from @ddejavvu (link here). Just a preface, I didn't assign a gender becasue I wasn't sure what the ask implied (if u want me to change it I gladly will :) anyways, other notes will be at the end to clear up more abt the story.

You’re a terrible cook and only sell the baked goods at a small cafe downtown. Thankfully, your roommate, Anakin is an experienced linecook and is ready to make anything for you. Too bad he's a natural flirt, otherwise you might just find yourself falling for him.

Warnings: gn!reader, cursing, banter, no use of y/n

________________________

6:30 a.m

The tiny brass bell above the cafe door dinged continuously as the working crowd came to grab a small bite before heading off to work.

The cafe was filled with the warm aroma of coffee beans and fresh pastries. The display windows held rows of all types of treats; macrons, muffins, strudels, bagels, cookies, toast, and many more. A plethora of coffee makers and different flavorings to cater to each customer’s specific desires, lined the back counter.

Mornings were always pretty busy, you were in the heart of the city after all.

You had gotten up ungodly early to prepare for the day, so once you got everything ready and opened the shop you were pretty tired. But regardless of the exhaustion creeping in, you still had a full shift ahead of you so you needed to put on your best customer service face and seize the day.

Latte, snickerdoodle cookie, iced chai tea with two pumps of vanilla, farmhouse roast with cold foam, 5 assorted macaroons, a slice of key lime pie, a frosted eclair, strawberry crepes. The orders came in waves and you prepared them all.

You weren’t even scheduled today, but your boss called you at the last minute because the new guy got fired for stealing inventory (really what was he stealing? There was nothing but ingredients in the back), so you hauled ass down here.

Sadly today the staff joining you today were rookies, so you had to take orders and keep an eye on them too.

It was bad enough that the bakers in the back were being lazy today, but to deal with new workers who didn’t know the system was even more frustrating.

It was going to be a a long day.

3:50 p.m.

The cafe closed early on Sundays, so you flipped the “we’re open” sign over and got ready to close everything down when you heard a knock on the door.

Whoever that was would just have to stay disappointed because you were too tired to deal with another needy customer right now.

They knocked again and you had to collect a calming breath to make sure you wouldn’t go off on them when you turned around. Much to your surprise behind the glass door was your roommate….your handsome roommate.

Anakin Skywalker was an interesting guy. Deviously handsome looks, insane confidence, witty humor, and radiating charisma.

A few months ago you were apartment hunting but the rates in the city were way too high for you to pay alone, so you put out an ad for a roommate. A lot of the requests you got were from older people and you didn’t exactly feel the most comfortable as a young adult, just starting out, living with someone two or even three times your age.

After a few days you stumbled upon Anakin’s application. Maybe his picture captured your attention… maybe you stalked his instagram to see if he was a serial killer (and to look at more of his pics).... Either way, the two of you obviously ended up living together.

When he first moved in you were worried he would be bringing chicks back every night based on his stunning looks and flirtatious personality, but thankfully you were mistaken.

He was just a normal guy; go to work, come home, shower, eat, sleep, repeat. You didn’t mind that at all, because your routine was basically identical.

A small blush rose to your cheeks as you headed for the door. His hair was held back by a folded black bandana and he had his own apron in hand.

“The door was open, ya know” you said, motioning him into the establishment.

“Oh, the sign was flipped, so I assumed…” he said, motioning to the door.

“Mhmm”

“We are almost closed, but i’ll allow you one purchase, just cause i'm so nice” you teased.

He walked up to the counter and surveyed the sweets, “oh, are you now? If you’re such a kind person, how about giving me a coffee cake on the house, sweetheart?”.

“Woah, woah, woah… you’re asking a bit too much there pretty boy”

He leaned over the counter slightly with a smirk, “aww, you think i’m pretty”.

In response you playfully rolled your eyes, “yuck! It’s just an expression, Skywalker, don’t get an ego about it” .

He grabbed her beaten up wallet out of his back pocket and laughed, “You already know i’ve got an ego”.

“That I do” you quipped back as you grabbed a coffee cake slice

“You love it though” he smiled as he handed you a ten.

Your eyes lingered on his forearm as he offered you the cash, he was a fit guy and the veins on his arms bulged just right; plus he was a line cook, so you knew that he had good dexterity in those pretty fingers too.

“Whatever you say”

You weren’t going to tell him, but you added your 50% off employee discount (since you were on the clock) just ‘cause.

The cash drawer popped open with a ding and you went to hand him back his change.

“You heading back to the apartment?” he asked as he gathered his cake.

“Yea, I’m gonna take a nap, I’m tired as shit. I’m guessing you’re about to go into work?”

He drew his lips into a thin line, “yep, I’m livin’ the dream. Are you gonna get lunch?”

“Probably”

“You should, food is important…Have a good afternoon though”.

You returned the gesture and went back to wiping down the coffee bar when you heard a few clinks and the door closed shortly after.

Your brows furrowed at the speed at which he left, but to be fair his shift was literally starting in two minutes. You walked up to the register to lock it when you saw he had tossed the rest of his ten in the tip jar; a small smile spread across your tired face.

11:02 p.m.

Your sleep schedule was so fucked up from all of these awkward shifts so you were just waking up from your nap (if you can even call it that).

Before you could register what to do next, your stomach let out a hungry growl and you groaned. You forgot to eat lunch and missed dinner so you were starving; sadly, it was grocery shopping weekend for you and you were out of instant meals.

A sandwich then.

You put on a small tank top and some gray shorts and headed to the kitchen. You hated cooking and you weren’t good at it either, so usually you had a salad kit, turkey dinner meal, or a premade acai bowl in the fridge. But since you were out of your usual options, you had to stick with a good ol’ PB&J.

You heard the click of keys in the door and you knew Anakin was back from his shift. Some of you wanted to dash back to your room and just wait until he went to shower to make it; you were lowkey intimidated by him. Before you could leave he noticed you and greeted you.

“Oh, Hey Anakin, how was work?”

“It was fine, the Sunday night rush is insane though, I’m so glad I go in later tomorrow” he groaned, sitting down at one of the barstools in front of the counter.

“You makin’ a little snack?” he asked, leaning over to see the ingredients in front of you.

“It’s more like dinner and lunch-”

His eyes widened, “lunch?! I thought you were getting something on the way back?”.

You shrugged, “I guess I forgot”.

“So you’re going to use a PB&J to supplement two missed meals?” he asked, bewildered.

“Uh huh” you nodded.

“No, no, no…” he muttered as he hopped off the stool and came around the counter beside you.

He took the knife from your hand and began to put the spreads away.

“Hey!” you exclaimed with a frown.

“Listen, If you’re going to break a two meal fast, I’ll be damned if I let you break it with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich” he huffed out a laugh.

“Alright wise guy, what do you suggest instead? We both know I’m a horrible cook”.

He bent down and grabbed a pan from the cabinet and some ground beef.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously.

“I’m making you some food. Go ahead and sit down, I’ve got this” he said softly as he started up the stove.

“No, it’s really alright Anakin, you just got off of work. You really don’t have-”

“I want to,” he responded.

You stopped talking and took a seat as he maneuvered around the kitchen like he had been here his whole life.

He chopped the beef and while it cooked he mixed spices to season the meat with. You watched him intensely; when he cooked his brows furrowed in concentration and the right one arched ever so slightly.

He lightly bit his bottom lip when he shook the pan to flip the tiny pieces of beef, and the tendons in his pretty hands flexed with every movement.

You really shouldn't be thinking about your roommate this way, but sometimes it was almost impossible not to. Inside, you cursed yourself for even thinking you had a shot with him; he was just a generally flirty guy and acted the same way he did with you when you brought friends over (though he was honestly just being nice). Plus there was no way that you would be his first choice out of all of the people who wanted him.

Anakin stood over the pan and shook out the seasoning he had just made to flavor the meat. Sure, he was tired from a seven hour shift, but this was for you; when it came to you, he would do almost anything.

He wasn’t exactly sure when his little “crush” started, he just knew that it was definitely there. Maybe it was when he realized you worked in the cafe beside his restaurant, so he would pop in as often as he could to grab little sweets; ones he could easily make himself, but he chose to buy them just as an excuse to see you (much to the detriment of his wallet).

Or maybe it was when he realized you discounted all of his purchases.

Or was it those late nights where the two of you would put on movies and share funny commentary whilst sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Or was it simply because of the way you maneuvered through life? Your sunny disposition, wonderful personality, and genuine kindness… plus you were drop dead gorgeous.

Whatever it was, he was locked in… of course he still kinda flirted around, but he was a natural flirt. At this point he couldn’t imagine wanting someone as much as he wanted you, he was entrapped by the possibility of having you in the future.

But of course, being the oblivious guy he is, he had no idea his feelings were reciprocated at all. So he chose not to act on his feelings out of fear of losing his spot in the apartment (if it went bad, you could kick him out and look for a different roommate to replace him).

“It’s done,” he said, turning the oven off and putting the pan on a cool burner.

“What is it?” you asked, walking around to his side.

“It’s meat for a taco,” he said, grabbing some cheese, guac, and lettuce.

“Oh, wow! That’s awesome, you made that so quick!” you exclaimed, looking at the pan.

“Here, let me grab a spoon to get the meat out” he said passing behind you.

Your eyes widened when you felt his strong hands on your waist as he moved past; did you feel that right? Did his hand linger? And why were you feeling hot?

“Here” he handed you the spoon.

“Thanks Anakin, this is really sweet” you said, getting your taco ready.

“No problem roomie” he said in a sing-songy voice.

“And with this you’ll have left overs so you can have lunch tomorrow. Don't forget again” he fake scolded.

“Alright dad” you quipped back.

He laughed and shook his head as he headed back to his room to take a shower. You observed his broad back as his shirt defined his shoulder blades and muscles while he walked.

Fuck. You were getting way too attracted to him.

___________________________

You woke up to a sweet aroma of pancake batter and fresh fruit. It wasn’t often that you and Anakin ever got up around the same time but apparently today was your lucky day.

He truly loved the culinary arts because he never faltered with his ambition to prepare a quality meal. He cooked breakfast a lot, but most times you were already at work and just saw the dishes in the sink or only got to have a quick bite. Though, every so often, on a rare day like this, both of you were able to share a delicious breakfast together (he always made sure to make breakfast for you when he knew you were off).

You walked out of your room with a yawn and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Once you took a seat he handed you a freshly made plate and tossed some strawberries on top.

“Look who finally decided to get up” he joked with a smirk.

You yawned once more, “Listen master chef, if my boss didn’t call me in for every little inconvenience- maybe my sleep schedule might not be as fucked”.

“Fair, fair” he nodded.

“Thanks for breakfast, it looks yummy”

“Of course” he smiled back

You looked at the plate with hungry eyes, it looked amazing, the only other thing you would add was-

“You want some of this, don't you?” Anakin smiled, flaunting a new bottle of whipped cream in front of you.

“Ugh” you rolled your eyes.

“I know how you take your pancakes,” he laughed, “you’re very predictable”.

“Am I?” you said before trying to quickly grab the can from his hand.

He laughed again and raised his arm higher, “that’s not gonna work and you know it.”.

“What can I do to get some whipped cream around here?” you cried comically.

“Well this stuff isn't cheap and we’re going through the largest national whipped cream shortage in history” he said, trying to sound serious.

“Oh, wow that’s tough” you returned with an unamused tone.

“Isn’t it though?” he added.

“I guess if you want some, you’ll just have to pay me” he looked away.

“With what Mr.whipped cream enthusiast? We both make shit money” you exxagerated.

“I may consider non monetary payment… possibly a kiss on the cheek?” he said.

“You want me to kiss you on the cheek?” you asked.

It probably came out more rude than you intended, it was only becasue you were flustered and your tones always got jumbled when you were nervous.

“Well you know what they say, “kiss the chef”. But if you don’t want any whipped cream…” he stated; he was a little nervous that he put himself too out there (he was never the best at subtlety).

“No, no! I want my whipped cream, so I will comply” you said proudly.

“Alright” he smirked.

…

… …

“Are you going to come collect your compensation or just stand there with the bottle in your hand?” you asked playfully.

“Oh, right. How dare I make a customer wait” he smiled, walking towards you.

“You’re so full of shit, Skywalker '' you teased as he bent down so you could kiss his cheek.

He felt butterflies when your soft, pillowy lips landed on his flushed cheek. How he had imagined that feeling.

“Alright, here you are mam” he shot out a dollop.

“That’s it?!” you exclaimed, unsatisfied.

“Each shot is one kiss” he shrugged, “national shortage…remember?”.

“Ugh” you rolled your eyes and continued to kiss his cheek until you were satisfied with the amount on your plate.

“Alright, alright. Thank you for the great customer service, I'll be sure to leave a good review on yelp” you joked as you pushed him away so you could eat in peace.

“Much appreciated, thank you mam” he smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever” you responded, with a light blush tinting your cheeks.

5:30 p.m.

Anakin groaned from his room before entering the living area with his scrunched up apron in hand. HE stopped in his doorway to stretch.

“Man, I really don’t feel like going in today”.

You hummed in acknowledgement, “It shouldn’t be too busy, since its only a monday ''.

“Yeah, I hope so” he said, putting his work shoes on that he kept by the door.

You glanced over your shoulder to look at his muscles rippling as he tied the laces; it was mesmerizing.

He stood and you whipped your head around quicker than you thought was possible.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. It’s my week for trash right?” he asked, grabbing his keys.

“Mhm”

“Ok, I’ll take it out when I get back tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t forget” he smiled before waving a small goodbye and shutting the door.

Something about him was just so homely, he was so sweet and thoughtful; you felt that living with him was just natural at this point.

________________

The restaurant was actually pretty busy when he first arrived, he saw a few party tables as he walked in. Great…

After clocking in, he got straight to work; manning the char grill, making sure all the orders were getting out in a timely manner, and goofing around with the other cooks.

In passing one of the cooks asked how his crush was doing.

“What do you mean?” Anakin innocently asked with a stupid smile on his face.

“Oh, just the one you live with. Ya know, no biggie” he laughed.

“Doing well, I made us breakfast this morning,” Anakin proudly stated.

___

All of the staff knew about Anakin’s not so little thing for you. He had been working at this restaurant for a while and was pretty acquainted with everyone. The cooks all knew abt you because everyone liked to talk in the kitchen, plus some of the other guys were curious about Anakin’s love life, seeing that he was so desirable (all of the waitstaff thought he was fine as hell).

He showed them your instagram when the two of you first started living together and everyone in the kitchen cheered him on.

The waitstaff on the other hand were not so thrilled that the handsome and mysterious line cook already had his sights set on someone else… someone who wasn’t them. Of course they were jealous, but when they got your insta from Anakin, they couldn’t even find anything bad to say about you;l you were stunning.

Doesn’t mean they liked you though…

___

A new order buzzed onto the screen above that had all sorts of modifications; Anakin was about to groan, until he recognized something familiar…

Usually no one asked for a salad without tomatoes and cheese but instead with rice, cucumbers, raspberries, strawberries, and chicken- or cinnamon on their mashed potatoes; there was only one person he knew who ever ordered such a peculiar combination.

You.

The waitress who rang in the order walked by and Anakin caught her attention.

“Hey, the person who ordered thi-”

“Yeah, I know. They’re such a pain. Like, at this point, just make it at home if you want so many modifications” she rambled

He then described your appearance to her and asked if the customer fit the description.

“Yea, sounds like ‘em” she said before carrying on with her work.

He smiled, you came into his place on your day off. Suddenly he felt a warm sensation in his chest.

The waitress came barreling back in and shouted Anakin’s name, “they apparently forgot to say they didn’t want-”

“Butter on the mash” he finished, already knowing what was coming next.

“Yea, how’d you know?” she asked, confused.

“That’s my roommate, I make this for us all the time back at home”.

She gave him a look before walking away to whisper something into another server’s ear. He knew they were then going to go out and judge you because they were jealous. Typical.

He continued to make your plate with care and since it wasn’t busy, even spent time drawing a little hearts with the cinnamon and salad dressing (not very subtle Anakin).

The other cooks notice and start making fun of him and he playfully starts winding up a rag to snap at them.

Once your food has been run he slipped out of the kitchen for a “bathroom” break; obviously everyone knows where he’s going.

He walks out into the front house and is immediately relieved by the cooler AC in there, next he scanned the tables and booths until he spotted your familiar face.

Soon enough he offers himself a seat in the booth opposite of you.

”Anakin!” you exclaim, “You scared me”.

“My apologies Sunshine, Just thought I’d come out and see my favorite customer” he said before winking.

“How’d you even know I was- “ you began before you looked down at your plate and realized.

“Yea, not many people are out here ordering such a peculiar combo” he teased.

“I should have known it was you who made the plate, well with the hearts and all. That must take a lot of time, they were really precise” you said, taking a sip of your water.

He laughed before answering, “I reserve those for very special guests'' (he only did those when you came in).

“Well, I wonder if you do this to persuade certain “people” to cut back on your rent for the month” you arched a playful brow.

He clenched his chest and looked offended, “Of course not! I would never do such a thing”.

You laughed at his stupidity.

He loved making you laugh, it was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

You saw a few other cooks poking their heads around the wall that divided the kitchen from the seating in curiosity.

“I think your co-workers want you to hurry up” you smiled, pointing towards the entrance to the kitchen.

He let out a sigh, “I guess so”.

As he stood you thanked him for stopping by; “My compliments to the chef” you teased.

“I am always at your service” he dramatically bowed before jogging to the back.

When he left you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your heart was racing… you were in too deep (but so was he).

Anakin spent the rest of the night happily making orders; he no longer cared he was at work, because you had just made his day.

Everyone in the kitchen began to tease him because he had a certain glow to him and they all knew why.

“When are you finally gonna go on a date?” someone asked him.

“Yea, you seem pretty damn sure about this one” another butted in.

He smiled to himself, “Soon guys. soon…”

***

a/n: The reader likes some weird ass combos lmfaooo. Basically these two are both missing the point that the other likes them. Now to clear up some things, I know cafe's are usually open all day but I needed it to close early for the plot. Also, I worked at a steakhouse and modeled Anakin's work as such just cause its what i'm most familiar with (Ironically I don't eat meat lol).

#anakin star wars #anakin is a little shit #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin #anakin x you #star wars x reader #star wars #darth vader x reader #vader #anakin fic #anakin imagine #linecook #linecook anakin #line cook anakin #answered asks #drabble #sw x reader #sw fic

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 years ago

Text

The End of Love

➪the one where you break up but still love each other. (requested-ish)

Warnings: angst, fluff, break ups, swearing, gaslighting

Inspired by the song 'The End of Love' by Florence + The Machine

Word Count: 3.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The buildings intimated you in the best way.

You look up and have to squint, even though you were wearing sunglasses. The sun was high and had no clouds whatsoever to hide behind, making the heat shine down on you.

It didn’t bother you, though.

How could you be bothered when you had the perfect guy next to you? The same guy who had been next to you since junior year of high school, as well as the guy who promised you that university wouldn’t change anything between the two of you. Oh, how you wished that were true. You wished you knew how bad things would end. Maybe if you did, you could’ve saved yourself from the heartbreak.

But that was later.

Right now, you were in awe.

“I knew it was going to be big, but I never imagined New York being this massive,” you say, barely able to catch your breath. “How will we find the time to explore everything before school starts?”

“We have all summer,” Ethan says as he wraps his arm around your shoulder. The two of you continue to walk down one of the many streets that made up the big city, your eyes looking everywhere in hopes to take everything in all at once. “And even when school starts back up again, we’ll still find time to explore together. We’re going to be fine.”

“You promise?” You ask and tilt your head up to look at him.

Ethan laughed and nodded, leaning down to kiss you quickly. “I promise,”

You were three seconds away from pulling your hair out.

You knew education after high school would be hard but you weren’t aware that it would be this fucking brutal. You were tired and stressed and annoyed and about this close to throwing your textbooks at Sam and Tara as they once again got into another argument.

Gripping your pen tighter, your mind goes back to Sam’s apologetic smile and her kind words of, “I’m sorry we were so loud earlier. We’ll be more quiet next time, Tara just frustrates me sometimes,” and then fast forward to an hour later when they began bickering again.

You tried to focus your attention on your school work, but your mind was somewhere else completely. You look over at your phone and debate whether or not to pick it up and send Ethan another text. He probably wouldn’t answer it, anyway, as the last three you’ve sent him had been left on delivered.

Six whole hours had gone by since you sent the first one, another three since the second and just one since the last. He had to be busy, right? Maybe he was trying to get some work done, too, and turned his phone off or something.

Still, it would’ve been nice to receive just one text saying that he couldn’t talk right now and that he’d call you later.

Instead of unlocking your phone when you reach for it, you toss it even further away from you on the bed in hopes the distance would make it so you didn’t feel the need to constantly keep checking it.

You would just keep disappointing yourself if you were to open your messages and see the same stupid words.

Delivered an hour ago. Three hours ago. Six hours ago.

Seriously, what the fuck was he doing that was so important he couldn’t find the time to send a quick text?

God, when did you turn into this kind of girlfriend? The one who drives herself crazy when she doesn’t receive a text back in a reasonable amount of time? Ethan never gave you a reason not to trust him, so why were you getting so annoyed at his lack of responses?

You take a deep breath before going back to the notes you took in class today. Though, as soon as you began reading, your phone went off and you grabbed it within seconds.

Eth <3: hey, sorry for not answering :/ i’ve been stuck in lectures all day and left my phone at the apartment. i just got home now

It was embarrassing how quickly you began typing a response.

No worries, glad you’re alive

Eth <3: haha

Your brows furrowed at his unusual short response and your thumbs started moving again without a second thought.

What are you doing now? Want to come save me from The Bickersons? The sisters aren’t getting along at all today

After hitting send, you set your phone back down and go back to reading over your notes, relieved at the fact that you were able to get into contact with your boyfriend.

During the middle of your mini study session, your phone went off again and you were surprised to see that it had been a full forty five minutes since you sent the last text.

Eth <3: sorry, babe, i can’t tonight. i’m going to that frat party with chad

Eth <3: maybe we can hang out tomorrow?

Disappointment settled in your chest as you read over the two messages again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Hang out? It seemed weird for your boyfriend to suggest hanging out when he usually always just showed up or sent you a text that let you know he was on the way. There was never any planning, just doing.

You shake off the weird feeling that bubbled in your chest and answer his text.

That’s okay, I just miss you :) Tomorrow works for me

Eth <3: miss you too <3

You held back a scoff and tossed your phone to the end of your bed. Ethan’s short replies were unusual and made a sinking feeling form in your heart at the very real change that is currently happening in your relationship.

The next day came, and once again you found yourself unable to reach Ethan.

Hey, when did you want to hang out?

You cringed when you sent that text as you never referred to spending time with him as ‘hanging out’.

Half an hour went by before you sent a second text, and another hour before a third.

Did you want to check out that breakfast place we were talking about?

Are you even awake yet?

You assumed he wasn’t when another hour passed with radio silence on his end. Believing that was better than the alternative; he was ignoring you.

It was hard to believe that a whole twelve hours went by before your phone went off.

Eth <3: i’m so sorry, i forgot we had plans. i’ve been studying all day for that test on friday so i wasn’t near my phone

Plans? That’s news to you.

As far as you knew, Ethan asked you to hang out then completely ghosted you.

It was then when you found yourself slipping away and not bothering to reach out first anymore. It was a sad realisation that you two would go days without speaking or seeing each other and the only time he would talk to you was when you started a conversation or asked to spend a day with him.

The effort he was putting in was non-existent and you quickly found yourself putting in less and less effort as well.

You didn’t know what happened, but you knew when it happened.

You two were so happy during the summer, but now that school had started again it was as if you were dating a ghost. Though, really thinking about it, you were sure a ghost would respond to you more than Ethan does at this point.

An entire month went by with very little contact between you and Ethan, and to say you were losing hope in the relationship would be the biggest understatement of the century.

A total of fifteen texts were shared and you had only seen each other nine times. What kind of relationship were you in? It wasn’t normal at all and it wasn’t like either of you to be so distant with each other. You couldn’t help it, though. Ethan had failed to stay on top of replying to texts and it hurt you more than you cared to admit.

Though, the lack of communication was not just his fault. You had stopped texting him daily and instead only sent him a message every few days, some of which went unanswered completely. Instead of going over to his place or having him come over to yours, you only really saw him in between classes or at a party, and even that was rare.

Like the other night, both you and Ethan were invited to a frat party without either of you realising it. When you bumped into him and saw your boyfriend for the first time in five days, you were brought back to the good times you used to have with him. It was easy to forget how bad things had gotten.

You ended up staying with him for the rest of the night and the two of you acted like you were in a normal relationship still and ignored the very obvious tension that hung in the air.

It was nice to pretend for a night.

A day went by and you were back to not communicating once again. And the cycle continued.

You considered it a miracle when you both found the time to spend a day with each other, though you two were both far from how you used to be. Ethan moved around your apartment with the hesitation of a stranger, and you couldn’t think of one thing to say to him that would start a conversation.

Now here you were. You were sitting on the couch with Ethan right next to you, yet you felt so far away. There was an overwhelming sinking feeling in your chest and you knew what was coming. It was inevitable at this point, you both felt it.

It wasn’t working out.

School got in the way.

We’re going in different directions.

We’re just too busy.

It didn’t make you feel any better.

But then again…who actually felt good about ending a relationship where you used to be so happy, one where you two were so good together?

The silence was overwhelming and both of you were too scared to be the first one to talk as you knew that when one of you did…it would be over. A nearly three year relationship just over. It hurt to think about, let alone allow it to happen.

With a shaky breath, you look over at him to find him already looking at you. You give him a sad smile and he returns it, refraining from reaching over and taking your hand in his. Instead, he bit back his hesitation and mumbled, “This isn’t working out, is it?”

You look away quickly, biting down on your lower lip as you slowly shake your head. “It’s not,”

There it was. The end.

Ethan sighed as he played with the sleeves of his henley. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep that promise,” he said quietly.

Your mind went back to the summertime and his promising words of ‘Even when school starts back up again….we’re going to be fine’.

But you weren’t fine.

His apology had your eyes watering and your lip quivering. Turning your head away from him so he wouldn’t see your face, you let a few tears fall. It was too much. You had thought you’d prepared yourself for this. Your relationship this past month was more like a friendship, and you were sure that things would be so different when you were over for good. The only reason you even saw him this month was because you both felt guilty about not putting in enough effort and just decided to push aside the tension and act like everything was fine.

Would you ever see him again after this?

The thought had another sharp stab pierce your heart.

You shrug your shoulders in response, quickly wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand. “It just got too hard to keep up with. Life got in the way,” you hated the words you were saying as you refused to meet his eyes. “We tried, didn’t we?”

You weren’t sure why you were asking him that as you knew you both put in a poor effort to keep the relationship going. But Ethan knew this too, yet he didn’t want to say the truth, either. “We did,” he completed the lie with a simple nod of his head, something you missed as you still didn’t look over at him.

The silence returned and you shifted uncomfortably. Never did you ever think you’d be uncomfortable while in the presence of Ethan. Things really have changed.

In hopes to keep him in your life just a little bit longer, you ask him another question and try to ignore the way your voice cracked, “We were good together, right?”

Ethan’s reply came instantly. “Of course we were,” and it wasn’t a lie.

Sure, the end of your relationship was hard, but the beginning was amazing, the middle was when you had some of the best days of your life, and the decision to end it was mutual. Not many couples can say that their breakup was mutual.

You nod at his words, taking a chance and reaching over to grab his hand. Ethan let you as he knew this would be one of the last times he would be able to touch you.

A teary exchange of smiles later had him getting up and leaving your apartment and finally you were able to bury your head in the pillows to muffle your sobs, the harsh reality of what just happened hitting you hard.

Two weeks passed and you weren’t over the breakup. You feared it would take many months for your heart to heal even a little bit, but you were okay with that. The ache you felt when you woke up was bearable as it meant your love was real and it happened.

Sure, it was over, but it happened. And that was enough to keep you going.

You skipped a lecture today to stay home and catch up on some reading. Well, you were supposed to be reading but here you were, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone with the book open on your chest.

That Summer in New York <3

You don’t know how many times you’ve read that caption of your last post with Ethan on your Instagram. The various photos did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart, but they did bring you the smallest bit of comfort.

The post was from the same day Ethan promised you’d be fine when school started, and the memory of that day was what kept you going. It was a good day, one filled with laughs, love and exploring the big city with your boyfriend. It was hard to think of that day being one of the last good ones you had with him.

Fuck, you missed him. Just like how you felt during the last stretch of your relationship, you felt worse now that it was truly over.

The amount of times you had to stop yourself from texting him were countless, though the high twenties would be your guess. You hadn’t seen him since the breakup, with the exception of his past self in the photos on your page, and all you wanted to do was check if he was okay. Was he sad like you? Happy? Fine?

Like yours, his Instagram was still full of posts of the two of you as it seemed like he, too, couldn’t bring himself to delete them. It brought you the smallest amount of joy to know that the wound was still fresh to him like it was to you.

Your mind went back to before you two were even dating and you realised that you started out as friends. That got you thinking; if you were friends before your relationship, who says you can’t be friends after it?

And with that, you open your texts and type out a message before you could stop yourself.

Hey! I was thinking about you today and wanted to know if you were wanting to get together sometime? As friends :) I miss you and don’t want to not have you in my life

Before you could tell yourself that you sounded too desperate, your thumb hit send and you were left with the same message that used to haunt you.

Delivered one minute ago.

It was only ten minutes later when your phone went off and you sat up quickly, setting the book down and grabbing your phone from off the coffee table.

Ethan: you read my mind

Ethan: i miss you, too

The smile that formed on your lips was the biggest you’ve had in months and you quickly typed back a reply, not caring at how needy it made you look.

Great, we’ll set something up for the end of the week?

A reply never came as quick as his.

Ethan: definitely, can’t wait

You were now in a much better mood as you stood up from the couch and peaked your head in Tara’s room. She was on her bed, playing on her phone when she looked over and immediately sat up. “Hey, Y/n,” she said, the smile on your face making one form on hers. She hadn’t seen you look this happy in a while, so she wasn’t about to decline when you asked her if she wanted to go get brunch together.

Tara was beyond excited to see your true, happy self slowly coming back. She knew how hard the breakup hit you and to see you begin to put yourself back together had a permanent smile on her face.

Fall was just around the corner and the air was chilly, but that was the last thing on your mind as Tara guided you towards the new restaurant that had recently opened. She went there with Chad and couldn’t stop talking about how good the food was.

You listened with a smile on your face but within seconds your legs stop moving and your smile drops.

Tara, who continued rambling about the food, stopped walking when she realised you were no longer next to her. She backtracks and stands next to you, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “What? What is it?”

You were looking off in the distance, unable to answer her as you felt tears spring to your eyes. Tara furrowed her brows at that and tried to see what you were looking at, and when she did, her hold on you tightened.

On the opposite side of the street was Ethan.

You knew the first time you saw him after the breakup would hurt, but you assumed it would be because of a completely different reason than the one you felt now.

You assumed it would hurt because you hadn’t seen him in weeks and you missed him, not because he was currently locking lips with a girl.

“Y/n,” Tara said quietly, her hand moving down to properly hold yours. Tara had a feeling that the reason you were so happy was because of Ethan and a possible reconciliation, so seeing this had her mind going blank and her jaw locking.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the scene and you watch as Ethan’s hands grip the girl’s waist and she leans further into the kiss. Her hands caress the sides of his face as she moves closer to him and that was when you decided you’d seen enough.

Tara tugged you away and you let her. The two of you turn your back to your ex as she guides you back in the direction of your apartment, missing the way Ethan pulled away just in time to see you walk around the corner.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream 6 ethan #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream 6 imagines

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writeforfandoms · 1 year ago

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Waking Lions 14

Find the series masterlist

We learn more about Ace's past and her connection to Kate. Also, she finally gets a meal.

Warnings: swearing, past violence, mention of past murder, Ace is still morally gray, Price still needs his own warning.

Word count: 1.7k

Captain went out first, making sure the way was clear for you as you locked up. You hiked your bag a little higher up on your shoulder and followed him down and out to the street, where an SUV was waiting for you.

“Ma’am.” Garrick nodded to you from the driver’s seat, and you settled in the back.

You looked out the window, tired and a little detached after everything. A quick look showed that you’d been working for nearly twelve hours straight. That was… less than ideal.

“Here.”

You blinked and refocused your gaze on Captain, who’d twisted enough to hand a water bottle back to you.

“Thanks.” You took the water, twisting the cap off slowly and taking a drink. You were definitely dehydrated, but you drank slowly, sips at a time, gaze unfocused.

It had been a hell of a couple days.

Honestly, now that you were thinking about it, you were surprised Laswell had noticed so fast. Was it just timing? Or had she gotten word of Gray poking around?

“Nearly there.”

Captain’s voice made you blink rapidly, lifting your head. Both men were facing forward, which was a bit of a relief.

You still weren’t sure how you were going to deal with Captain yet.

Garrick parked and a moment later Captain was opening your door for you. You almost made a teasing remark about him being a gentleman, but… Well, that was too much effort, and you were tired. You just shuffled after him, watching for Kate.

Kate spotted you first, your eyes locking across the distance. You sighed, long and slow. Oh, this was not going to be fun.

But you still let yourself be herded to a seat across from her, plopping down ungracefully. That didn’t matter. You didn’t need to be graceful right then.

“What happened?” She looked between all three of you.

You picked up the menu and held it in front of your face. Captain could start this one.

“Found her working,” Captain said after a few moments of thick silence. “No evidence of anyone else watching. I doubt anyone knows she’s here.”

“And why are you here?” Laswell pulled the menu down to stare at you. Damn. She was too good at making you admit things.

“Gray found me.” It was not any easier to admit aloud, even after all the work you’d put in burning three aliases. “Got a call from one of my clients, she informed me that he was asking around after me.” You let the menu fall to the table, exhausted all over again. Your hands were shaking. Just a little.

Laswell frowned, leaning back a little in her chair. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure I’m not willing to risk it,” you shot back, tucking your hands under your thighs. Not that you really thought they had missed your shakiness.

“Which contact?” Laswell tapped her fingers on the table. “Who told you?”

You frowned at her. “No.”

“I need to know where to start looking.”

You sighed, tipping your head back. Valeria had called you, but she’d said he had been asking around. Okay. Gray wasn’t the type who went to underlings, so he hadn’t been asking Las Almas in particular. He’d been asking around that layer of criminal organization. Valeria knew some Russians and some AQ, which was how she’d gotten mixed up in the missile business.

It was possible that White was just a coincidence… But now you weren’t so sure. Especially given that the last place you’d heard about Gray was in the Middle East. And the Russians had ties to AQ.

In retrospect, you were amazed you hadn’t put the pieces together sooner.

“He’s probably working with AQ, or adjacent to them.” You spoke quietly, without looking at any of them.

“He wasn’t that eager to watch the world burn,” Laswell pointed out.

“Last conversation either of us had with him was years ago,” you pointed out, dull, flat. “It’s likely his morals have further skewed. Or he’s decided the ends justify the means. Or he thinks he’s using them for his own ends.” You shrugged, just a little movement.

Captain nudged you, and then again when you didn’t straighten up fast enough for him. “You need to eat.”

You thought about arguing, you really did. But he wasn’t wrong. You flapped a hand at him, letting the others order first as you scanned the menu until you found something vaguely appetizing. Good enough.

“So who is this guy?” Garrick asked, glancing between you and Laswell.

“Crazy asshole,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat again. Your eyes burned a little from too many hours spent staring at a screen.

“Bad news,” Lazwell added. “He’s got ties to weapons smuggling, but he hadn’t previously been a terrorist.”

You grimaced but shrugged. Eh. Close enough.

“And why does he want to kill you?” Captain spoke quietly. You could feel his gaze on you.

“He’s wanted to kill me for years.” Your voice was too flat. This was a tone you hadn’t heard from yourself in years. You didn’t like hearing it now. “He decided to take over my father’s business a long time ago, had him killed, tried to have me killed. Didn’t work, obviously.”

“The fact that you turned witness against him didn’t help his opinion any,” Kate pointed out.

You huffed softly. “And you still couldn’t keep him locked up.” But there was no vitriol in your voice. This had happened a long time ago, you’d come to terms with it already.

“You’re staying with someone until we get this sorted.”

That got you to lift your head and glower at her. “No.”

“If he knows you’re alive and he’s searching for you, you’re in danger. Until we can deal with him, you shouldn’t be alone.”

You grimaced. She wasn’t wrong, exactly, but you hated it. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You can stay with us.”

You blinked at the unexpected offer from Captain. “I dunno,” you drawled. “Sure you won’t try to kill me?”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Not on my to-do list,” he agreed glibly.

“Good.” Laswell looked between the two of you with something very much like satisfaction, which was setting off all kinds of little alarms in your brain. Kate trying to meddle in your life was very much not a good thing. “We can discuss what you still need to do.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at her. “In terms of…?”

“Your research.”

You blew out a soft breath. Right. Research. The thing you were supposed to be doing before you heard about Gray. “Dunno what more I can get,” you admitted, rubbing your forehead briefly. Now that you were actually paying attention to your body, you definitely had a dehydration headache. “Especially not without getting any closer to Gray.”

“You think he’s involved?”

“I think I’d be a fool to assume otherwise at this point.” You rolled your shoulders, drinking half your water in one go.

Laswell was silent for a few long moments, just watching you. It didn’t make you nervous, not after all this time. Sure, you didn’t want her meddling, but you trusted her.

“We’ll discuss this more after you’ve slept on it,” she decided.

You scoffed but didn’t argue. You didn’t have the energy for that. Food arrived and you all ate, though Captain and Garrick talked quietly. You just focused on your food, working through it with a sort of exhausted determination.

“I’ll do some looking on my side,” Laswell said, looking at Captain. You forced yourself to pay attention, though you were fading fast now that some of the frantic desperation of the situation had faded.

Captain nodded. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Laswell agreed.

Captain stood, as did Garrick. It took Captain nudging your chair for you to stand as well, holding back a groan. Yup. You’d definitely spent too many hours hunched over your computer. The three of you were silent as you walked back to the car, Captain opening the door for you again.

“Do you have everything from that apartment?” Captain asked you.

You blinked, slow and sleepy. You needed to not be, but you’d hit your limit. The food had really cemented your fate - rather than invigorating you, the food was sending you on the fast lane to snooze land. So it took you longer than normal to answer him. “Yeah.”

He nodded once, glancing back at you as Garrick started to drive. “You’ll stay with one of us.”

“Bossy.” You made a face but couldn’t muster the energy to truly fight him. Not on this. Not now.

He huffed softly. But he didn’t say anything else. Something you were rather grateful for.

You weren’t up to your normal verbal jousting just at the moment.

The drive to their hotel was silent, and you slowly tipped sideways into the door. Your blinks got longer and slower as you struggled to stay awake, the quiet climate controlled air too soothing.

The car stopped and your door opened. You probably would have slid right out except for Captain bracing you, chest firm under your shoulder and temple.

“C’mon,” he rumbled softly. “Just get upstairs and you can sleep.”

“Not sleepy,” you grumbled, just to be contrary. But you could barely peel your eyes open, instead listing harder into him until he reached across you to unbuckle your seatbelt.

You did make sure you had your bag, though. You needed that. And you refused to give it up.

“Up we go,” Captain murmured, soft and amused and rumbly and entirely too pleasant. You stumbled a little, but Captain held you upright and kept his arm around your waist, guiding you inside.

You didn’t pay much attention to anything, too tired and out of it to bother to try. Captain wouldn’t let you get killed. Or grabbed. Not while he was right next to you, anyway.

A door opened and Captain pulled you through. A moment later he was gently tipping you into a bed, and you sighed as you went entirely limp. He huffed and pulled your shoes off for you.

“Sleep well, love,” he murmured, one finger gently touching your temple.

And you were out.

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years ago

Text

getting your attention ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2068

request?: yes!

@crazymelascula “Hello, good morning/good afternoon/good night! I don't really know when you'll see this, but I wanted to place a wish. I wanted to ask for a picture of Colson with jealousy. Maybe she provoked him (something like that). You you can make an obscenity of it if you like.”

description: in which her boyfriend is always busy with work, so she decides to get his attention in another way

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, orgasm denial, oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, little bit of rough sex, pet names including sir, master, and princess, some jealousy and possessiveness)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Risqué photos were not your style. Not public ones, anyways. You didn’t mind sending the odd photo to Colson every now and then, but they were for his eyes and his eyes only.

But lately, Colson was busy. He always had some form of work going on lately; making music, touring, filming, writing - both songs and scripts. He was gone almost all the time, and the times he was home it was very obvious that he wasn’t actually present. It was hard. Of course, you were proud of him and how big his career had gotten, but you were starting to feel very unimportant in Colson’s life. Almost forgotten.

So here you were, looking at the sexy photo you had taken of yourself. It wasn’t anything too risqué - just a photo of you in some matching lingerie with one of Colson’s button ups pulled over you. You were laying on yours and Colson’s shared bed, giving the most seductive look you could muster to the camera.

And now the picture was sitting in your Instagram drafts. A caption typed up, a filter on it to give you a little extra glow. It was all ready for you to post, but you were hesitant. You had come up with the idea as a way to get Colson’s attention. Granted, it may not be a great idea, but you were lonely and, frankly, you were annoyed. You wanted him to come home, you wanted his attention. Fuck, you just wanted him to respond to the goddamn text you sent him hours ago.

You switched back to your texts to see that “Read” message still staring back at you. Your annoyance outweighed your hesitance as you went back to Instagram and hit “Post”.

Within seconds, you had thousands of likes and comments. You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, waiting for some form of recognition from Colson. A like, a comment, a text. Anything.

And you got...nothing.

You threw your phone down on the bed, tears filling your eyes. You pulled the covers over yourself and rolled into a ball, crying yourself to sleep.

~~~~~~

The sound of the front door loudly banging shut woke you. You stretched out your tired limbs as footsteps approached the bedroom. When you looked over, you were surprised to see Colson stood in the doorway.

“Hey,” you said, your voice still sheepish. “What time is it?”

“Six,” Colson responded.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home till closer to midnight.”

“I cut my day short.”

As he stepped into the dim light of the bedside lamp, you noticed a dark look on his face. A lustful look.

Now you were fully awake.

You sat up in bed, the covers falling to your lap to reveal you were still in the lingerie and Colson’s shirt. His eyes darted to your body for a moment. He moved so quickly you could barely register his movements; one moment he was in the doorway, the next he was throwing the blankets off of you, revealing your mostly naked body. You gasped as the cool air touched your bare skin.

“Good to see you’re still in that sexy outfit,” he said. “But it’s coming off.”

You nodded and started to take off the shirt. Your hands reached for the clasp of your bra, but he took hold of your wrists to stop you.

“Oh no, babe,” he said, his voice husky with lust. “I’m taking this lingerie off. Lay back.”

You did as he commanded. You laid back on the bed, looking up at Colson with wide, innocent eyes. The baby blue eyes you were so in love with were dark now. It would’ve been scary if you weren’t so turned on by his dominance.

He got up onto the bed, kneeling next to you. You kept eye contact with him as his hand reached between your legs. He yanked your panties to the side and cupped your cunt. You gasped at the contact, which turned to a moan as the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit.

“God, you’re already so wet,” he groaned. “Were you playing with yourself, princess?”

You shook your head quickly, another moan escaping your lips as he started to rub circles against your clit.

“No? This is just for me?” You nodded, but he pressed his thumb harshly against your clit. “Use your words.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Yes, this is all just for you!”

“If this is all just for me, why did you post that picture for everyone to see?”

The pieces fell into place then. He had come home early because he saw the Instagram post. He was so dominant and lustful because of the picture you had posted.

Your plan had worked.

You tried not to seem so cocky over this. You’d definitely be punished if he knew the satisfaction you were feeling over this reaction.

You exclaimed in pleasure again as you felt two of Colson’s long, slender fingers pushing through your entrance. He curled them just right so that they hit your spot. You clutched at the bedsheets below you, writhing in pleasure. A look of admiration crossed Colson’s face for just a second as he watched you. He loved to see how good he made you feel, but he was also trying to keep the dominant persona going.

His fingers working inside of you and his thumb against your clit brought you to the edge within a matter of moments. You were feeling lightheaded as you chased your high. You were so close, when suddenly Colson retracted his fingers. You whined at the loss of contact, reaching for his hand to put it back where it had been. Colson grabbed your hand - both of them, actually - and pinned them over your head.

“You post that picture on Instagram,” he said, “for the entire world to see what’s mine, and you think I’d let you cum that easily?”

“Sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t think you are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have posted that picture.”

He pulled you to sit up by your wrists before letting them go. “If you can be patient enough to take your master’s clothes off, you can have what you want.”

You tried not to seem too eager as you pulled Colson’s shirt over his head and started to unbutton his pants. You pulled them down along with his boxers, allowing his hard cock to pop free. You looked at it with wide, needy eyes. You were cautious as you reached for it, waiting to see if he was going to stop you. When he didn’t, you wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped a little. He moaned at your touch, his head lulling back.

You kissed the tip, causing him to gasp. Then you put the head in your mouth, still testing the waters. Turns out you didn’t need to test too hard. Colson put a hand on your head and thrusted deep into your throat. You gagged, but he only seemed to like that. He held your head and roughly fucked your mouth until your eyes were watering and the wetness between your legs grew.

Colson pulled out of your mouth and grabbed you by the throat. He roughly pushed you onto the bed and started (literally) tearing off your lingerie. “God, I can’t take it anymore. I have to be inside of you.”

He ran the head through your soaked folds, lubing himself up before pushing himself into you. You moaned out around him. His fingertips dug into your hips as he lifted them for a better advantage point. Once you were stretched enough around him, he started roughly thrusting into you. Each merciless thrust abused your g spot and moans continued to tumble from your mouth.

You could hear him praising you, sometimes even asking you questions, but you were too fucked dumb to be able to respond. All you could think of was how good he felt inside of you, and whether or not you’d be able to hold your orgasm until he had his. You were really hoping he wouldn’t make you wait, but the dominant mindset he was in told you otherwise.

You could feel the familiar pressure beginning to build. Your eyes were rolling back into your head and your legs were tightening around his waist. He could feel your walls starting to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, princess?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Open those pretty eyes and look at me while you cum on this cock.”

You pried your eyes open and looked up at him. One of his hands moved from your hips to your hand, lacing your fingers together. He continued to thrust roughly into you until you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, screams of pleasure falling from your lips as you did so. You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and soon enough, he was groaning your name as he spilled his warmth inside of you.

Colson collapsed on top of you, holding himself up so that he didn’t completely crush you. You were both sticky with sweat and breathing heavy. Your eyes were trying to adjust as you came down from your high, but you were still feeling slightly cross eyed from the experience.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before Colson started to pull himself out of you and get up from the bed. You pouted as you watched him go. He saw your face and chuckled.

“I’m gonna go start the shower for us,” he said. “You can stay here till it’s ready. I figure you’re not able to walk just yet.”

Your still shaky legs were all the confirmation he needed.

“Please run it cold at first,” you said. “I don’t think I can do a hot shower right now.”

He chuckled against and nodded.

A few moments went by and you heard the shower in Colson’s ensuite start. He appeared back in the bedroom and helped you to your feet. You walked as best as you could towards the bathroom and got into the shower. You sighed as the cool water ran over your still hot and sweaty body, cooling you down to a reasonable temperature. Colson joined you, smiling at your reaction.

“So,” he said after a few moments of the two of you washing yourselves off, “what was that picture all about?”

You had almost forgotten what had gotten you to this point in the night. You weren’t sure if you should tell Colson the truth or not. Now that you had come down from your high, you worried that what you did may have seemed a bit...well...crazy. You could’ve talked to Colson about him being gone so much instead of posting a picture to make him jealous. Even if that picture had led to the hottest sex you had had in a while.

You sighed and decided to come clean. “I wanted to get your attention.”

Colson raised an eyebrow. “Well, that plan certainly worked. But why did you post a picture of yourself like that to do it?”

“Because it seemed like the only way,” you admitted. “You’ve been so busy lately and I was starting to feel...unimportant. I mean, I texted you while you were working today and you didn’t even respond. You just left me on read. I guess I just thought the only way to get your attention would be to post a picture like that and hope that maybe it would spark something inside of you.”

Colson ran a hand through your soaking hair before pulling you against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’ve been busy. I never really realized how much I’ve been focusing on work versus how little I’ve been focusing on our relationship.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I mean...it’s not completely okay, but I can’t blame you. You’ve been doing so much that you’re so proud of, and I’m proud of you too. I just want an equal balance of work and relationship. I want to cheer you on from the frontlines, not from the sidelines.”

He kissed your forehead. “Deal. I promise that for the next week I am all yours, and once I go back to work I’m taking you with me as much as I can.”

You smiled up at him. “I accept that deal.”

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut #mgk #imagine #one shot #request #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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yeaimsafiya · 4 months ago

Text

EUPHORIA

CHAPTER ONE* back from rehab extended

SYPNOSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER I'M SORRY GUYS!! Yes I know I was supposed to post this part FOUR FLIPPING MONTHS AGO but I got so busy with school that I forgot that I was supposed to upload (and also took a break bc school is fckin tiring). BUT ITS HERE, THE FULL CHAPTER! This chapter has most of the first half from last time but if you don't want to re-read it, please skip to the third cut of this one. I Love you guys so much and I'll have most of my chapters out when I can this and next month- Love you all, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, VERY LONG CHAPTER, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be either blocked or removed

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except for the person standing in front of you.

i. <3

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright s/n, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

ii. <3

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"And I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in their freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

iii. <3

In truth, you really didn't have a problem with Bakugo, but that was before all the bullshit with Jirou. I mean you never liked him, and once, during freshman formal, he tried fingering you on the dance floor without your consent. But like... This was Japan. And if they were throwing an end-of-summer party...

"Yo, I'd do it for Y/n! Haha!"

..Of course you'd fucking go.

"Yo, the whole world's gonna be talking about how Kirishima threw the grimmest banger of the summer," The blonde had said, driving in the front seat.

"I don't know bro. You know my mom's a real OCD. She sees one little scratch on the wall, the dishes are out of order-" His red-haired friend said before being interrupted.

"We'll just take a picture of everything. We'll put it back the way we found it."

"The fuck is this? Mission Impossible?" The red-haired asked.

"Could you please stop fucking worrying about your mom? You need to be worrying about all the pussy that we're gonna smash tonight."

"No, no, no, nonono, isn't Ochako coming tonight?"

"Who cares, I'on give a fuck. She's the one who broke up with me in the first place; So fuck her."

"See, no, 'cause she's crazy bakubro. I don't need her coming here and burning my house down."

"Shut the fuck up you red-haired bitch," he snarled back.

"See this is exactly what I've been talking about. Right here," the blonde haired said at the sight of the purple haired girl riding her bike, headphones in her ears; Jirou.

"Bro, don't do anything stupid. Come on let's just go" Kirishima protested, he was not with the blondes idea. But the blonde ignored him as per usual.

"Yo what up B! How about you come and ride this dick?" He yelled at the indigo haired girl, in which she raised the finger back at him.

He laughed at her as she fell from her wobbly bike, slashing her knee onto the pavement; While the red-haired sat and stared.

"What the fuck bro?!" Kirishima replied, concerned as to why his own best friend would do that but cmon, lets be real, it was Bakugo.. he didn't care.

"Whoops."

Jirou moved from the city to the suburbs right wafter her mom and dad had gotten a divorce. She doesn't really like to talk about it, but dads almost never get full custody, so you know some shit had definitely went down.

She went to about three weeks of summer school with Tsuyu, who failed Intro to Visual Arts.

| ------------------------------------------------------------------------ |

"Guys, do you think my areolas look weird?" The pink haired known as Mina asked, right out of the blue.

"No, they look fine to me kero," Tsu replied back; confused as to why she would ask a question like that.

"But like on the edges though.."

"Mina, they're fine."

"Okay; fine like they look strange or fine like nobody's going to notice them?"

"Fine like shut the fuck up Mina; You're over-exaggerating ," A black haired girl known as Momo had said from the bathroom, annoyed by the brunette's self-degradation.

"Disgusting, I look absolutely disgusting."

"Mina, you need to snap the fuck out of your delusions, your hot as fuck! Bakugo's just a big ass loser who cares?" Tsu argued back.

"He's not just a 'loser'. He's a dick."

"All dicks are losers, obviously."

"Look, besides that, y'all need to walk into this party like your pussy costs a million dollars," the black haired shouted from the bathroom.

"Real, I'd settle for like, at least fifty grand."

"Fifty grand is a million dollars Mina."

"I could settle for, like, four Corona Lights and some non-rapey affection."

"That's sounds depressing."

"Either way, Bakugo's just totally ruined my confidence. I thought he was different but he's just one of those people who are constantly criticizing everything about you."

"Yep. That's about almost every guy."

"Honestly, you just need to catch a dick and forget about your troubles."

"Girl, you just need to catch a dick."

"Seriously, Uraraka, the best thing to do after a recent breakup is to fuck someone completely new, and then move on."

"Please, Momo, remind me again how many guys you've fucked before? And yeah, cat-fishing, that don't count.?"

"Tsu, could you not be a fucking cunt for like, 15 seconds?"

"Hey Mina?" Her father questioned, walking in with no knowledge of the situation in front of him; causing a reaction out of her.

"Dad, stop being a damn pervert! We're literally, like, all naked in here!"

And with that response, her dad had left without a sound.

iiii. <3

"Y/n, where the hell have you been?" Your mother asked, upset and concerned.

"I just went out to eat, nothing else," You lied

"What the hell do you mean, 'you went to eat'?" She questioned.

"What?" You questioned back whilst walking away to calm the situation. However, your mom wasn't going to till she had her answer.

"What?! Don't you walk away from me." She yelled whilst continuing to follow you. And if you'd look close enough, you could visibly see that she was pissed by the way her face heated up.

"You know what, Y/n? I don't even think I can trust you anymore at this point."

"Mom, I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me where you were."

"I just said I went to fucking eat!"

"Don't you talk to me like that! You know what? I'm gonna drug test you." She said, but in response, you had slammed the door to your room out of anger and frustration.

"Don't be slamming no doors around here."

"It was an accident."

"I don't care. You're not leaving this house until you take a drug test."

"I just peed!" You shouted, slamming another door in the house.

"Slam another door."

"That girl's gonna be the death of me."

Now see, there's a few ways to beat a drug test. The first is simple. Just stop doing drugs. But if you're in a bind and totally fucked, there are some others.

Option one: niacin. It's a B vitamin that, like, breaks down fat and chemicals or whatever, and if you take a lot of it, like 2,000 milligrams, then chug a few gallons of water, you can flush your system in two to three days. The only problem is, it has a few side effects. Skin flushing, extreme dizziness, vomiting, rapid heartbeat, and sometimes death. I don't recommend it. Nor does any legit drug site on the internet.

Option 2: synthetic urine.. Yeah, fucking right

Option 3: get a non-drug addict friend to piss for you. The only problem is... ...most over-the-counter home drug testing kits come with a heat-sensor strip that detects the temperature of your urine. And if your parents watch you pee, you can't really do the sink trick. So you gotta get it fresh.

"Hey, Rue."

"Hey, I... I need a favor."

"What?"

"I... like for real, Uraraka."

"What?"

"Side effects of this option?"

"Are you serious?"

"Please. Thanks."

"Hey, Rue. How was rehab?" The brunettes mother questioned, sitting on the couch whilst smoking a cigarette.

To be completely honest, it was Shit. But you obviously weren't gonna tell them that were you?

"It was good. It was really good," you lied.

"Well, that's good. How long have you been back?"

"Five days."

"Oh. New chapter then, isn't that great!"

"Mom."

"Hmm?"

You and Uraraka have known each other since pre-school. And like, in some ways she's your best friend, even though you think you've grown apart. You don't really have much in common anymore.

"Did you meet any cute guys there?" Her mother kept asking while you were talking to her.

"Here's that eyeliner."

"Thanks."

"Mom, I have to pee!" You yelled as she entered the bathroom, watching you before her very eyes.

"I wish we could do this in a way that wasn't a complete invasion of my privacy."

"Well, you lost your right to privacy after your overdose."

"That was a mistake."

"Don't be flip, Y/n."

"Could you... Thank you."

You don't understand. This was the most frightening moment a mother could witness. And S/n... ,S/n who absolutely idolizes you...

"Listen, I know Mom.."

"To have her find you unconscious..."

"Can we just... Can we not do this right now, Mom?"

Rue?

Rue.

Rue..?

I know a lot of people probably hate it right now, and you probably get it. If you could be a different person, I promise that you would. Not because you specifically want to, but because they do. And therein lies the catch.

"I'm sorry... for slamming the door earlier."

"It's okay. I forgive you. Come here," she said, embracing you in a 3 minute hug; almost as if she was going to lose you to somebody.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I spend the night at Uraraka's?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Thanks."

"..Yeah."

Do not steal, use or re-upload my work without given my permission or consent. If so, you will either be blocked and/or removed.

#bakusqaud #drama series #euphoria #mha x reader #my hero acedamia #character x character #lgbtqiia+#mha class 1a #mha smut #EUPHORIA #chapter 1 #full chapter #edited

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renecdote · 2 years ago

Note

how about "this reminded me of you" if it sparks? <3

Hi Kate ily I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberties with the dialogue here <3 It also got way longer than expected oops so enjoy 4.4k of these two being ridiculously in love.

Also for @starlingbite who requested the same prompt.

[Read on AO3]

The package shows up on the doorstep on Wednesday afternoon. Eddie is supposed to be at work—the last shift in the cycle before their four days off—but instead he kissed Buck goodbye at the door, made him promise not to do anything too dangerous, then stayed home to look after his sick kid. He’s expecting groceries when the doorbell rings just after five p.m., not the lumpy grey package left by a USPS driver who is already climbing into his truck and driving away.

Eddie skims the label as he shuts the door—sent to: Evan Buckley; description: boyfriend hoodie—curious because he doesn’t remember Buck mentioning anything he ordered recently. He doesn’t open it, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He pulls out his phone instead and types boyfriend hoodie into the search bar, only hesitating a moment before he hits enter. A dozen links pop up, but none of them are all that enlightening. Eddie is left with no clearer idea of what a boyfriend hoodie is and a vague disgust at how expensive they are to buy. He’s pretty sure that if Buck ever put together a budgeting spreadsheet it would look something like:

Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Hoodies $3,600

Utility $150

And Eddie knows he’s so, so far gone for his boyfriend. He knows he has been for a long time. But damn he’s got it bad because he knows that if Buck put a budget like that in front of him, he’d never be able to talk him out of spending a fortune on all his cosy, tempting hoodies.

The doorbell rings again, cutting into his thoughts, and Eddie leaves the package on the dining table to collect his groceries. Milk and eggs and the deli bacon Buck likes go in the fridge, oranges in the fruit bowl, crackers and pedialyte left on the table, everything else in the pantry. He checks on Chris—sleeping, no warmer than he was an hour ago when Eddie brushes a hand over his forehead—and somewhere between folding laundry and ladling chicken soup into a cup, the mystery of the package slips to the back of his mind.

****

Buck tries to sneak in when he gets home, but Eddie is dozing on the couch, half awake in case Chris needs him, and he hears the rumble of the Jeep’s engine before the door is unlocked.

“Hey,” he greets sleepily, “you’re early.”

He’s not really: it’s twenty past eight. Eddie is just so used to calls taking them overtime, or lingering in the station at the end of a shift, or the hell beast that is LA traffic in the mornings. Their shifts end at eight, but he rarely sees the inside of his house any earlier than eight forty-five.

“Hey,” Buck echoes, yawning. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing back his own yawn. “Nah, I’ve been up for a while.” Sort of up, anyway. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Buck answers. “I missed you.”

He looks tired, which means he probably didn’t get much sleep in the bunks. Hard to tell whether that was because of the busy or the I missed you though.

“How’s Chris?” he asks before Eddie can question him further. “Is he feeling any better?”

It hits Eddie sometimes, in the moments he least expects it, that he’s been coparenting with his best friend for far longer than either of them realised. Buck letting himself into the house, asking how Chris is when he’s been sick—none of it feels new. They could have had this conversation just as easily three years ago as they are today. The only difference is that now, after Eddie has reassured his partner that Chris seems to be on the upswing, he can tip his head back against the couch and Buck will lean down and kiss him; first on the forehead, then, when Eddie pouts upside down at him, on the lips.

“Hi,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile, and Eddie can’t help smiling back at him.

“Hi,” he echoes. Thinks: I missed you too.

Buck starts to straighten up and—it’s fine, he’s not going to go far, but—a sound of protest catches in Eddie’s throat and he reaches up and snags his boyfriend by the hoodie string and—

Oh. The hoodie!

“You got mail,” he blurts, sitting up so fast he almost smacks Buck in the head.

“Mail…? Oh!” Buck’s eyes light up as he grabs the package. “I didn’t think this would be here until next week.”

“You bought another hoodie?” Eddie asks, trying to sound casual and probably failing. He hopes it’s a nice blue that will bring out Buck’s eyes. Or the kind of pink that makes his lips pop. Or that burnt orange he looks so good in. Or green, or white, or maroon, or purple. He’s pretty sure Buck doesn’t own a purple hoodie yet.

“Actually,” Buck is already ripping open the packaging, his grin bright and unrestrained, “this one is for you.”

Eddie frowns, confused. Why? he almost asks. We both know I’d just steal it from you anyway. And then Buck gets the hoodie out of its packaging inside the packaging (Eddie mourns the environment) and holds it up, the material unfolding to show a grey-blue hoodie that says I stole this from my boyfriend on the front. He blinks. Reads it again.

“Doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose if it’s for me? I mean, if you give it to me, I didn’t really steal it from my boyfriend, did I?”

Buck rolls his eyes, but his grin hasn’t faltered. “I can wear it a few times first, if that helps.”

“I think you should,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to run his fingers over the white letters. They’re embroidered, thread bumpy under his fingers, not the plastic feeling of writing that will flake off after a few too many washes, and when he dips his fingers under the hem, the inside is so soft and cosy he almost shivers just thinking about wearing it.

“Dad?”

They both turn—and Eddie’s heart thumps, a pain that doesn’t really hurt, at the way Buck responds just as easily—to find Christopher making his way towards them.

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie says. “How are you feeling?”

Christopher shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m thirsty.”

Buck’s hand presses against Eddie’s shoulder just for a second—I’ve got it—and then he’s moving into the kitchen while Eddie fusses over Chris, checking his temperature and getting him settled on the couch and convincing him to try a piece of toast.

“Buck,” Christopher says between nibbling bites of toast, and Eddie watches Buck shake himself back to attention, the long shift starting to catch up with him. “Do you really need another hoodie?””

Buck blinks, slow and cat-like in his confusion, and then his face twists into such exaggerated affront that Eddie has to bite his cheek on a laugh. The packaging is still scattered on the dining table, the new hoodie hanging over the back of a chair, and Chris couldn’t have seen who it was addressed to, but he didn’t even question that it would be Buck.

“There’s no such thing as too many hoodies,” Buck tells Chris mock-seriously. Mostly mock, anyway; Eddie knows there’s a part of him that really believes there is no such thing as too many hoodies.

Christopher’s teeth poke out with his smile. “But we live in LA.”

“LA gets cold,” Buck insists, the same way he insists whenever anyone brings up his absurdly large jacket collection (“it’s not just me! why does no one ever talk about all Hen’s sweaters?”). He looks at Eddie for help, but Eddie just shrugs.

“Kid has a point,” he says, as if he doesn’t spend half his time stealing from his boyfriend’s side of the closet.

Buck grasps his chest in mock betrayal, but there’s a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.

“Now I know you’re feeling better,” he says, tousling Christopher’s curls while Chris giggles and ducks away.

It’s overwhelming, sometimes, how much Eddie loves them both. His heart is doing that thing again, that hard thump that makes his breath catch, and when Buck glances at him—you okay?—he just shakes his head, smiling back: I love you, I’m okay.

Buck reaches out to take his hand, tangling their fingers together: I love you too. His eyes in the morning light are a pale, glittering blue and Eddie leans over and kisses him, just because he can.

****

Eddie has been expecting to be taken out by the germs from the moment Chris first pushed his food around his plate on Tuesday night and said he wasn’t hungry.

Somehow, it’s Buck who catches the bug next. He crashes for four hours while Eddie putters around doing housework, sleeps right through lunch, and when he wakes up in the afternoon, he’s achy and shivering.

“I’m okay,” he still tries to insist, slumped at the kitchen table while Eddie watches him warily, putting all the sandwich fillings that were offered and rejected back in the fridge. Christopher and Buck are more alike than they both know, their appetites always the first thing to go when something is wrong.

“You’re sick,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re denying it, it was bound to happen.”

Buck grumbles. “I was fine earlier.”

Eddie thinks back, tries to remember if he missed any sign, but Buck really did seem fine earlier. It doesn’t really reassure him; Chris seemed fine when they picked him up from school on Tuesday as well.

“Go lie down,” he suggests. “The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll be able to kick this bug.”

More grumbling, but Buck goes to lie down on the couch. Eddie mentally files that under feeling worse than he’s willing to admit. He stands by the table for a moment, listening to Buck and Chris through the open doorway (a muted “hey buddy,” and, “sorry I got you sick, Buck”), the sound of a cartoon explosion on the TV, a funny line of dialogue that should get twin laughs from the couch but doesn’t.

Definitely feeling bad, Eddie thinks, and it’s not like it’s the first time germs have been shared around between the three of them—he’s lost count of how many times they’ve huddled on that couch and taken care of each other—but it still makes his heart squeeze.

When he checks in on them fifteen minutes later, Christopher is fast asleep at one end of the couch and Buck is huddled under a blanket at the other, eyes closed but not sleeping. His face is flushed with fever heat, but even under the blanket, he’s shivering.

“Are you cold?” Eddie frowns, checking Buck’s temperature with the back of his hand.

Buck shrugs, lethargic. His face is half hidden by the blanket, but there’s a tight little scrunch between his brows that means he probably has a headache as well.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. “Hang on.”

He heads for their bedroom, but the dryer beeps so he backtracks to the laundry instead. He pulls out the clean clothes, dumping them all in a basket to be dealt with later, then fishes out the new hoodie that he threw in with the load earlier. It’s warm in his hands, feeling even softer and cosier than it did coming out of the packaging.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he drops it in Buck’s lap. “The sooner you wear it, the sooner I can steal it.”

“You might not want to steal it if I throw up on it,” Buck mumbles, but he puts the hoodie on, struggling for a moment with the left sleeve before his head emerges, curls sticking up in every direction. Eddie runs a hand through his hair, then kisses the top of his head.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t throw up on the hoodie,” he agrees, “but I’d still love you.”

“You always love me.”

Buck blinks up at him, pale and miserable, and even after all these years there’s a persistent thread of wonder in his voice, like he can’t quite believe how much he is loved. Like he can’t quite believe that they made it back here, together, after everything. Eddie can’t blame him because he still can’t believe it sometimes too. He doesn’t know what to do except kiss Buck again, holding him close and hoping that some of his warmth will soak through the layers between them. Buck sinks against him, boneless, and Eddie thinks they could stay like that forever, just holding each other, until Buck pulls away with a low groan.

They spend a while on the bathroom floor after that.

“You’re going to get sick,” Buck tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted; getting sick has pretty much been an inevitability since Christopher brought the note home from school a week ago warning parents that the stomach flu was going around. Once Buck was taken out, it became a certainty. It’s not like Eddie is going to move out of their bed until the germs are gone, after all.

“I’ll risk it,” he says, rubbing Buck’s back. He’d risk a hell of a lot more than a virus for his partner, but it doesn’t feel like the time to say it.

Buck shakes his head, but it’s not really a denial, just, “You don’t want this, Eds.”

Eddie kind of wants to shake him sometimes. To take him by the shoulders and say: I want you, remember? all of you? But he’s pretty sure it would be labouring the wrong point, right now, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because Buck is scrambling to get his head over the toilet again and Eddie can only grimace sympathetically and rub his back. Buck is right: he doesn’t want this bug. But he does want Buck and Chris, so. Germs are a pretty small price to pay.

****

He tosses and turns, sleeping fitfully, and by three a.m. they’re both sick and miserable together.

“Is this what they mean by ‘in sickness and in health’?” Buck asks the ceiling, and Eddie’s sluggish brain has to think through that for a long moment before he remembers:

“We aren’t married.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Buck’s voice sounds far away. “Should we get married?”

Eddie thinks about that for a long moment too.

“Probably,” he decides. And then his stomach twists again and it doesn’t really matter if they’re married or not because he’s too busy throwing up to think about anything except how awful he feels.

****

When Eddie does steal the hoodie, it’s mostly an accident. He wakes up freezing, desperately thirsty, and when he staggers up in search of water, he grabs the hoodie that has been tossed onto the end of the bed without thinking about it. It’s already over his head before he realises that it’s the one Buck was wearing when they crawled into bed.

The next time he wakes up, he’s too warm, Buck a long line of heat pressed up against his back, and he has to wriggle free to wrestle the hoodie off again. It’s damp with fever sweat and he tosses it on the floor in disgust. He just did laundry yesterday, but he’s already thinking about how they’ll need to do it again.

“Okay?” Buck asks, still half asleep.

The answer is yes but also no, I feel like crap, and I hate how never-ending housework is, which is all too much to explain. Eddie just groans and buries his face in his pillow. A sound catches in Buck’s throat, something vague and sympathetic, and he slips a hand under Eddie’s t-shirt to rub his back. Eddie shivers, pressing back into him.

“Your hands are cold,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t mean stop.

Buck shuffles a little closer and kisses the back of his neck: I’ve got you.

Eddie still feels awful, but he thinks he’ll feel a little less awful as long as he has Buck there rubbing his back. He knows this isn’t what either of them meant when they promised to have each other’s backs all those years ago, but it feels inevitable that they ended up here anyway. Buck’s hand moves over his skin, warm and solid and familiar, and Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.

****

The hoodie spends two days waiting for someone in the house to have enough energy to do another wash cycle, then three more days at the bottom of the laundry basket waiting to be folded and put away. Buck is the one who finally puts it in the closet, his hands moving restlessly when they get home from a busy shift, jittery from too much caffeine and too little sleep.

“I love you,” Eddie says when he pulls oven cleaner out from under the sink next, “but if you’re going to deep clean our whole house, I’m going to nap without you.”

He’s exhausted, slumped at the kitchen table because even sitting up feels too hard right now, and Buck’s energy is starting to make him a little dizzy. He doesn’t think twenty-four hour shifts used to be this exhausting, maybe he should be more worried about getting old?

“Twenty minutes,” Buck bargains, already reaching for a cloth to scrub the oven with. “I just want to do this and then I’ll join you.”

Eddie considers insisting—he knows Buck is just as exhausted as he is and if he lies down for ten seconds he’ll probably crash—but compromise is the foundation of all good relationships, or so Bobby keeps telling him. It’s a foundation, Eddie is willing to concede, but he’s pretty sure the foundation of all good relationships is trust.

“Twenty minutes,” he agrees. “I better not wake up alone, Buckley.”

Buck smiles, like he can see right through the faux-stern Buckley to the heartfelt honey underneath, and ducks in to kiss Eddie on the cheek on his way to the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. “I promise.”

****

Eddie is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, so he doesn’t know if it is twenty minutes, but when he wakes up and rolls over, he finds Buck sprawled on the bed beside him, dark green hoodie rucked up around his waist, one leg sticking out from under the covers, breath whistling faintly between snores. He smiles and closes his eyes. Chris is at school, the house smells vaguely like lemon disinfectant, he’s warm and comfortable and they have nowhere important to be. He can spare five more minutes before getting up, he thinks.

Half an hour later, they’re still in bed, wrapped up around each other, and Eddie has forgotten why he ever wanted to get up at all.

****

“Uh, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Chimney asks, pointing between them.

Eddie glances at Buck, I stole this from my boyfriend embroidered right over his heart.

“Looks fine to me,” he answers, shrugging.

Buck grins. “You think I look fine?”

Eddie opens his mouth, a dozen answers to that on his tongue, half of them straying dangerously close to NSFW, but Hen beats him to it was a drawn out, “Oookay, save it for when we don’t have to stand here and listen to your foreplay, boys.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks turning pink, but Buck is as unrepentant and shameless as always.

“You could stand somewhere else,” he suggests, and he’s laughing when Hen smacks him in the arm.

****

The hoodie is traded for an LAFD one instead, relegated to Buck’s locker for the duration of their shift. Eddie isn’t fussy; he’s just as happy to watch the LAFD material stretch over Buck’s arms and chest and broad shoulders as he is any other kind of clothing.

Buck goes home with the hoodie tucked into his bag the next morning, but somewhere between walking in the front door and leaning against each other in the kitchen while the coffee maker works its magic, Eddie ends up wearing it. It’s like wearing a hug, he thinks, but that might be the way Buck’s arms are wrapped around his waist as well, a solid wall of heat at his back. Eddie doesn’t want to step away when the coffee machine beeps, but the lure of caffeine is strong enough to get him one step, two, three, cold as soon as his partner’s arms are no longer around him.

“Thanks,” Buck murmurs when Eddie hands him a mug.

Eddie kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, you’re welcome, and Buck catches him by one hoodie string to kiss him again when he starts to step away. The coffee mug in his hand dips and Eddie takes it from him, setting it aside without looking. The space the movement put between them is only there for a second before Buck hooks his hands in the hoodie pouch to pull Eddie closer, deepening the kiss.

“Have I told you lately,” he says between kisses, “that I love when you wear my clothes?”

Eddie hums, busy working his hands under the hem of Buck’s shirt so he can touch as much warm skin as possible. It takes him longer than it ordinarily would to string together the words to say, “I thought you bought this hoodie for me?”

“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” Buck agrees, his own hands under Eddie’s hem now, hot enough to brand everywhere he touches, “but you’re the one who said it doesn’t make sense unless it’s my hoodie.”

“And you said you’d just wear it a few times first,” Eddie reminds him, distracted enough now to frown, hands stilling on Buck’s waist. “Hang on, are you trying to steal my hoodie?”

Buck’s next kiss is more like a bite, teeth nipping under Eddie’s jaw; the promise of a mark that will sit just above where the hoodie might cover it.

“Right now,” he says, the same kind of promise in his voice, “I’m just trying to get you out of it.”

Eddie is more than happy to help with that. He lets Buck take him by the hand and pull him down the hall towards the bedroom, coffee forgotten on the counter, hoodie tugged off and quickly forgotten on the floor. Buck lips press against his skin right over this heart, right where the embroidered words would be, and Eddie feels like there is a mirror image of them etched into the beating muscle beneath his skin: my boyfriend stole this from me. He would have given it—has given it, a dozen times over—but every time he reached into his chest, he found Buck’s name already there.

I love you, Buck presses into his skin with his lips.

And Eddie holds him close and kisses it right back: I love you, I love you, I love you.

****

“Our hoodie.”

“Huh?”

Buck pushes himself up on his elbow and Eddie blinks up at him, his brain still feeling a little melt-y.

“It can be our hoodie,” Buck says, idly tracing a pattern over Eddie’s ribs, just because he can.

“Like a timeshare?” Eddie asks, musing, the start of a smile breaking through. “You steal it this week and I’ll steal it next week?”

Buck flicks him and Eddie grins.

“I take it back,” Buck says, rolling away onto his back. “It’s my hoodie now.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to push himself up on an elbow, going far enough to lean over Buck and kiss him, cradling his face in one hand. It’s just supposed to be one kiss, but Buck kisses back readily, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back, and it’s easy to lose themselves in it after that, the thread of conversation unravelling as they make out.

“Okay,” Eddie says eventually, the word quiet and breathy in the space between them. “Our hoodie.”

It gives him a thrill, the same way it always does, whenever he refers to the two of them as an our. Our home, our family, our hoodie.

Buck’s smile is a brilliant thing. It burrows in through bone and blood and tissue to reach the heart underneath, making itself at home.

“I love you,” he says, so sincere Eddie feels it in his chest.

“I love you too,” he replies, punctuated with a kiss. “You know Hen and Chimney are going to give us so much shit about this hoodie for the rest of our lives, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Buck agrees. “Maddie too. Don’t tell Chris, but she thinks I already own too many hoodies as well.”

Eddie laughs. God, he’s so, so far gone for this man.

“She might have a point,” he says, but he’s pretty sure it just sounds like there’s no such thing as too many hoodies.

Buck rolls his eyes, still crinkled with his smile. “See if I ever buy you a hoodie again.”

It’s an empty threat. And it doesn’t really matter anyway because—

“That’s fine,” Eddie answers. “I’ll just steal yours.”

He can’t be sure, really, which happened first: that first stolen LAFD hoodie, or Buck stealing his heart. He tried once, wine drunk with Hen and Karen, to answer their question about when he knew he was in love, but the only answer that came to him was I’m pretty sure I loved Buck before I knew him.

“I don’t think it’s stealing if I let you,” Buck tells him.

“You’re going to let me, huh?”

“Yeah.” Buck nods. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I kinda like it when you wear my clothes.”

Eddie grins. “I might have had some idea.”

The proof is on the bedroom floor, or whatever that saying is. He never did understand why it was always in the pudding. It’s on the bedroom floor, and in the way Buck is smiling at him, and in the laundry all mixed up in the basket. It’s the way Buck kisses him, soft and lingering, and the way Eddie’s heart thumps once, twice, a pain that doesn’t really hurt. It’s our home and our family and our hoodie. It’s I love you and I love you and I love you.

It's the fact that they’re here, together, despite everything. Because of everything.

It’s kissing Buck again, and again, and again. Just because he can.

****

(Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.)

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #fic #clothes thief eddie my beloved<3

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jerseyshoresy · 9 months ago

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Daddy Dearest Daryl

ANGST, FLUFF

Daryl and reader expand the fam!

Daryl x gn!reader (request from @scoutandtank , please enjoy!! <3)

Warnings: one instance of cussing

Being a parent was hard.

Your daughter was born three months ago and you and Daryl have never been happier. She was the cutest thing, having inherited Daryl’s deep blue eyes and your bright smile. She was the light of your lives and you’d do anything for her… but you just wished that whatever she needed right now at 2:33 in the morning could wait until daybreak. Her cries rang through your room like there was a five alarm fire and she was the 20 fire trucks that showed up to the call. Even with your home in the middle of a farm in the land of nowhere, you were surprised all of Letterkenny hasn’t knocked on your door asking you and your baby to keep the noise levels down. Sighing, you sat up and wiped the sleep from your eyes the best you could while simultaneously putting your feet into the slippers next to your bed.

“Shh, honey, I’m coming,” you told your daughter. As you went to the crib, you noticed she was already out of it and in Daryl’s arms as he tried consoling her. He was standing, trying to rock her back to sleep.

“Dary, I got it. You go back to sleep, you worked all day.”

Daryl furrowed his brow.

“What, and you didn’t work? I know for a fact that baby watching is serious business. I got her, you try and get some rest.”

You loved your daughter and you loved Daryl but you knew there was no way you could sleep with the crying. You and Daryl were now used to getting up at all hours of the night to feed your daughter or rock her to sleep, but tonight seemed especially difficult and you felt yourself getting a bit cranky.

“Dary. I’m already awake and I can’t sleep until she does. Go back to bed.”

“No way! I’m already up too. If you can’t sleep right now, why don’t we just stay up together?”

You shot him a look.

“Because that’s stupid.”

He shrugged the best he could with a wailing baby over his shoulder.

“Yeah, probably. I’ve been told I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed many times.”

You tried so hard to be mad at him but you just had to crack a smile. Daryl was a caring father and husband with a silly sense of humor which was just another reason on the long list of why you loved him.

“Fine then. Since we’re both doing this, I’m going to get her bottle,” you said, going to the kitchen and coming back into your bedroom with some milk. Daryl took it from you graciously and began to feed your baby. You didn’t know what washed over you, if it was the lack of sleep or what, but the sight of your husband and your child bonding together like that was too much for your emotions and you started crying. Daryl, ever so attentive, quickly guided you back to the bed to sit down. He had his crying daughter in his arms and sobbing partner sat next to him, he was feeling a type of tired that he didn’t know was humanely possible, and yet he was still so ridiculously happy that this little family was all his. As you calmed down, so did your baby. Daryl cautiously set her down in her crib as she finally began her descent back into dreamland.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen,” Daryl whispered, taking your hand gently in his and leading the way. You took your place at the dining table while Daryl made you your favorite hot drink. When he took his place next to you and laid a hand soothingly on your back, you felt yourself want to cry even more. You’d snapped at him, yet he’d gone out of his way to still treat you with kindness. You thanked the universe every day for giving you a man like him.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly as to not wake your sleeping daughter.

“Not really, but I know I need to,” you said, resting your face in your hands. “I think I just got super overwhelmed. You know I love you and our daughter so much. It’s like, I know I’m a parent now, but sometimes it just hits me that it actually happened. I see the two people I love more than this entire world and I… I guess I’m just so grateful beyond words for the life I’ve been given that I burst into tears randomly. I’m also really, really fucking tired.”

Daryl wrapped you in a tight hug, resting his stubbled chin on the top of your head.

“I love you so much, y/n. We’re gonna get through the hard parts together, like we always do. You’re such a great partner and parent and there’s no one else I’d rather share a child with.” When you pulled apart from the hug, you two shared a tender kiss.

“I don’t have work tomorrow so how about I’m on baby duty while you get the day to try and catch up on rest a bit?” Daryl suggested, and you nodded sleepily in agreement. He continued on.

“So, now that we got that all sorted out, do you think we’re ready for our second kid?”

“Daryl, I swear to God—!”

#letterkenny x reader #daryl x reader letterkenny #dary x reader #letterkenny x y/n #letterkenny one shot

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peacestale921 · 10 days ago

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𝔓𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔡𝔢𝟏: 𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

Long ago,there were two races on earth:monsters and humans.

One day,however,one human was lying bleeding. Azriel,whose human soul he had captured,explained to the humans with tears in his eyes.

The humans empathized and decided to make the world a better place for monsters and humans to live.

What...?What's this...？

The chiriping of bady birds echoes in the sky. I somehow turned on the TV and heard the police officer support robot＿＿Metaton introducing the members of the police officer group.

Dr. Alphys is a doctor, not a police officer, so next...Undyne.

The introduction of a special type of police officer for monsters, is shown on the screen.

She can catch monsters with powerful magic...well, she's strong. Apparently, she is in training＿oops. The camera cut as soon as I thought I saw her face filling the......screen. I think it's amazing how close you can get in an instant.

Next shown was Papyrus, a human special type of police officer. Apparently he is busy on a mission, and Metaton is explaining him instead. He is friendly and kind, but has no mercy for criminals…I agree. I, too,

"must learn from his core strength..."

While I was thinking to myself, he moved on to the next introduction.

Next up is Papyrus' brother, Sans. He is a survivaillance special type police officer.The brothers are all very...huh?

......sleeping. I didn' t expect him to be dozing off when he is usually so firm…is he tired?

I spend my days as a prince, the son of a monster king, but to honest, even though I am a prince, I am still a child. There is not much to do, and if there is, it is only study. There is only so much I can do…but I would like to do something for the weary Sans.

He is always working hard for us and we need him to take a break once in a while.

"……He's still sleeping."

Even though he doesn't move that much all the time, he much be fatigued if he has to work almost every day without break. It would be bad to wake him up……. I brought a towel to at least keep him from getting cold. But apparently the shock woke him up.

"Oh, did you get up?"

He blinked and focused, then his eyes widened in surprise, "Eh, Prince??" I only mumbled.

"You must be tired. How about taking a break?"

When I suggested this, he became a little distressed. He may be thinking that he can't just abandon his important work, no matter how tired he is. But if he doesn't take a day off, his work efficiency will definitely drop. Sans would understand.

"umm…OK,try telling frisk."

I don't know if he was thinking about the work that was about to begin, or if my concern was conveyed to him, but it seems that he decided to take a leave of absence.

"Hooray! If you were to take many days off, you'll have to tell me!"

Sans lightly brushed off my unintentionally happy and slightly excited words with a “Ok, ok,” and headed for Frisk, still rubbing his sleepy eyes. Hehehe, I hope I was of some help.

A slightly overpriced chocolate chip cookie placed quickly in front of me. And a little further back, there is Sands with a big smile on his face.

"Do you want a rest?"

When I asked him a straightforward question, he seemed to have given up trying to deceive me and replied, "Yes." I asked him a direct question, and he seemed to have given up trying to deceive me.

Frankly, it is not a good idea to have Undyne or Papyrus or Sans out. These three are the heart and soul of the police force. However, I think they will be hard pressed to take zero vacation time.

We are not a black company, and it would be a problem if they get sick.

"Well, okay, I'll give you a rest."

"Really!?!?"

He leaned forward with a look of mixed surprise and delight on his face.

"When the vacations are over, I'll have you working as hard as you can."

When I added that, he looked as if he wanted to say, "Oh, no..."After that, he simply replied, "OK…," as if he had given up.

Rough audio reaches your ears.

"Azriel! I got some time off work!"

A happy voice and a familiar name.

The girl smiled with hatred.

Please help us spread the word about Peacrstale!

Canon:Undertale (by TobyFox)

Peacestale (by Peace)

Anime↓↓↓

youtube

#undertale au #undertaleau #Peacestale #peacestale #UT_AU #Youtube

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dnangelic · 2 months ago

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UNCHANGING IDEAL DRAMA CD POST

AWRIIIIIGHT so here's the big ole translation post of what i got from the brand new drama cd. there are 3 tracks, two longer (each around 20 min) and one short, (around 10, more or less a dramatized version of this particular 4 page manga chapter short,) making up three tracks, which i won't be uploading in their entirety to this blog or anything because this came out like literal just months ago. disclaimer that a lot of this is me going by ear with my fairly basic jp knowledge and being largely hand-held by machine translations, if anyone wants to type up a more accurate translation please feel free.

on that same note and while i'm talking about it, a real quick initial translation note that i consider important/useful before anything starts: the jp term for 'admiring,' 'aspiring,' and 'longing/yearning' (憧れるよ) can all be the same and are used interchangeably throughout the tracks, (compared to english which has very different inherent connotations,) so keep that in mind for understanding's sake!

also final disclaimer that this cd uses the anime cast, whereas my portrayals use the voices from the wink series, not the ones you'll find in here. i can't stand okiayu dark i'm an onosaka dark first n foremost awoijakfjlkgj okay enough about that let's go!!!!

TRACK 1.

< starts off with a generic heist(tm) for intro flare (25 years and canon dark is still homophobic awpoiadklj 😭) then skips to a schoolday. the track takes place during daisuke's bday, one year after his very first transformation, which would in fact make him 15 compared to 14 like he was at the veeery start of the series (and also where i'm writing him). out of the whole cast riku was the only one who didn't know it was his bday because daisuke never talked about it much, and it's also considered a special anniversary day because it's also the day of dark's reappearance.

< emiko has set out a warning card, to daisuke's chagrin and dark's own obliviousness. cue this funny little exchange:

daisuke: ahh, how did this happen?! hiwatari: you always seem so busy. dark: (whose fault is it always making me busier?) daisuke: hiwatari-kun's not...! (lit: 日渡くんじゃない) hiwatari: as long as somebody doesn't do anything, i won't have to get busy.

hiwatari continues to say that tonight's target isn't a hikari, but the product of 'those who yearn and obsess' over it. daisuke goes huhwhat to which hiwatari continues saying: 'when the emotion of longing is too strong, it can sometimes become a powerful curse and eat away at people's hearts.' he also tells dai that he wants dai to be careful 🥺

daisuke's a little late for the meet-up, (and dark takes the blow) but he and riku have a talk over things like their opinions over each other and wanting to get to know each other some more little by little. riku expresses how kind and gentle daisuke is that he'd even be nice to a 'bad person' like dark, and also brings up how daisuke always seemed tired and spaced out in the mornings (thanks to having to escape his mother's traps,) but riku would've never guessed that he was actually so strong and surprisingly a little cool. daisuke gets so happy that he starts to suddenly haul ass after thanking her and riku complains that he's always leaving right in the middle of important conversations.

with daisuke now lamenting that he almost transformed right in front of her, dark laughs and wonders what riku would think if he had. daisuke says that he'd definitely, definitely be hated, and risa shows up. daisuke gets scared wondering if she saw him transform, but dark says that it doesn't seem like she had, so things should be fine. he's still in daisuke's school clothes though, and risa comments on the fact--- daisuke sobs 'i knew it, we're out, dark!' before dark asks why she thinks he's dressed like this, then goes on and plays along with her guess of it being preparations for the heist - the museum for tonight's close to the school.

risa says that today's a special day for her too since it's the first day she fell in love with dark, to which he says that he thinks every day he meets with her is special. risa goes for a kiss and daisuke freaks out, forcing dark to say just kidding and see ya before she stops him one last time - she asks about dark's birthday, says nevermind, then says that she was happy to at least be able to convey her feelings on a day that was special to her. men with secrets are more attractive to her, and she's sorry for stopping him, but she promises to come see him and wishes him the best. daisuke transforms back, to which dark tells them to get moving so they can ask why emiko was interested in idea - the target artwork for the night.

TRACK 2.

dark asks if daisuke's ready - it's already been a year since they've been together, to which daisuke says that he feels weirdly self conscious when it's brought up. a year ago, he was told that if he stole the saint tears, his transformations would be cured, but in reality, he had to somehow make his first love come true.

dark laughs, saying daisuke's surprise was a masterpiece and that he misses it, to which daisuke comments again --- dark misses a year ago, even though his life's extremely long. dark says that even if a year was like the blink of an eye and someone's been around for a long time, they don't always stay in the public eye, and from the time a niwa turned 14 to the time their love bore fruit, he'd use his time. 'for the past 40 years, from grandpa to me, dark's been sleeping, huh? ' dark says that thanks to all the things happening with daisuke, the year's felt strangely long and he's starting to get nostalgic.

dark: (besides, you're by far the clumsiest of all the niwa in history.) daisuke: what's with that?!

the two laugh together; daisuke thinks it's a little weird to be talking about the past, and he was a little happy that even risa told him it was a special day. dark tells him to shut up and hurry up and get moving so they won't be late--- daisuke rushes off.

he apologizes to riku and everyone else for being kept waiting, and takeshi chides him calling him a dumbass, (leaving dark teasing him as one too,) but it couldn't be helped and was dark's fault anyways; he was busy preparing for his encounter with inspector saehara. takeshi's been staking out the place since school ended. riku does an amazing impression of risa fawning over dark, to which she snaps that of course she'd be lovesick, today was a special day! daisuke asks about hiwatari, who pops out saying he's right here--- causing everyone to jump and scream at the top of their lungs.

inside of daisuke, dark suggests hurrying up and running away early, but daisuke doesn't want to because it'd be suspicious. dark insists it'd be suspicious anyways, and it'd be trouble if hiwatari stayed here anyways. daisuke finally relents, and takeshi asks him what's up- he's even more absent-minded than usual, so daisuke says he's a little nervous and going to the bathroom. takeshi asks if he's got diarrhea (lmao) and risa calls him gross, while hiwatari only lets out a sigh. daisuke hides in some bushes and leaves his cover to wiz, who transforms into him while he transforms into dark. dark tells wiz to come back to him as soon as hiwatari leaves the group, and the heist is officially on.

inside the museum, hiwatari has appeared in front of idea as expected, and shouts for dark not to run. krad soon appears and begins to attack and pursue dark, saying that dark must want to settle things with him today- to which dark says that he had no interest in doing so and hadn't been the one to invite him out in the first place. daisuke and him start to fret; if krad's appeared, then hiwatari must be in a desperate situation today. krad, meanwhile, has been calling the artwork a fake and says he has no interest in it or its obsession. to him, the artwork is a piece of junk that has no value and should be destroyed.

dark dares him to try something if he can, and krad starts to destroy it, promising to destroy as many 'fakes' as they liked, until hiwatari starts holding him down from within --- the artwork's dangerous, and once broken, begins emitting a strange and magical light. daisuke tells dark to let go of it, and hiwatari curses that it's too late to fix it properly now. in the end daisuke ends up pulled away from dark and gets absorbed into the artwork alongside satoshi, who asks what the hell krad must have done, but not even krad had done anything. krad disses idea some more as an ugly artwork, but the fact there are no more interruptions makes everything juuuuust right- he attacks dark, who begs for daisuke to hurry up and exit the artwork already.

inside of idea, daisuke wakes up with hiwatari. he asks where he is, saying his surroundings feel like the inside of a kaleidoscope - hiwatari deduces that due to the mysterious light of idea, they were probably inside of it by now. the two of them were in fact separated and absorbed. hiwatari remarks on how calm daisuke is to which daisuke brightly replies that there's a good thing - (hiwatari:what is there good about this situation?!) since he isn't alone and hiwatari's with him, there's still something good about their circumstances. (hiwatari: you're being awfully optimistic.)

daisuke changes the topic to recall that hiwatari had told him something about this artwork in school, and asks if hiwatari knows anything about it. hiwatari explains that it's also a 'kind of seed of light',(hikari) and brings up a woman's eyes - 'this piece, named idea, was created with a longing for light.'(hikari) daisuke recalls hiwatari's earlier description: an admiration so strong it became a curse.

hiwatari concurs and elaborates: its creator longed for the hikari (light) and idea was the only one of those works that had survived, the closest to the original. the others were destroyed by the hikari, and hiwatari wonders if it wasn't krad who had actually done that. daisuke asks why only idea was spared, but hiwatari himself doesn't know why; even if it was approved of, it still would have been such a 'distorted' work. daisuke asks if that's how hiwatari himself feels, to which hiwatari asks what daisuke means. idea doesn't feel so bad to him: admiring someone and thinking they're amazing, isn't that a positive thing? he wants to believe that the inside of idea is something similar. hiwatari acknowledges that must be how daisuke feels, but for himself, it's too dazzling for him to look at.

hiwatari: please don't make that face. it's just a difference in perception. krad: that's right. it's a despicable thing for imperfections to be forgiven, hikari. and satoshi-sama, are you also cursed by the blood of light that makes you attracted to imperfect beings?

hiwatari immediately recognizes krad's appearance as a hallucination caused by idea, but the daisuke from before must have been real.

idea: where's niwa? is it real? is it fake? who decides what is what?

having been so suddenly separated from hiwatari, daisuke calls out for him- because hiwatari had disappeared so suddenly, he can only hope that hiwatari's okay. immediately after, daisuke's confronted by dark saying: ' i don't care about him, anything's fine, isn't it?!' daisuke's relief at dark's appearance is immediate, and he says that it's an emergency, but before he can continue, dark cuts him off and says he's going to get out of here and go home. daisuke insists that they find hiwatari before they do that, and dark asks why --- he's the enemy! wouldn't it be better to keep him locked up here? daisuke says he can't be the only one to get out; hiwatari had to still be somewhere around somewhere. if dark was getting out, then he'd have to go with daisuke.

dark: what the hell do we care about that hikari brat? daisuke: hiwatari's a very important friend to me! you know that! dark: he's a dear friend to you, but maybe he doesn't think so.

cut to hiwatari and krad .

krad: satoshi-sama, you want niwa daisuke, but is that the truth? satoshi: what? krad: isn't that boy too dazzling for you? admiration is something that is so dazzling that it's painful to look at. aren't those words the real truth? satoshi: you talk a lot for a fake.

cut to dark and daisuke.

dark: you've never heard hiwatari's real feelings before. so, he might be a fake friend. daisuke: it ... can't be like that. dark: how can you say that? daisuke: because i know. dark: what's that supposed to mean? you don't know anything about the hikari. how beautiful and fascinating the hikari artworks are, attracting people to the point of being violent and demonic. daisuke: ...yeah. i don't really understand anything about the hikari. dark: see? then-- daisuke: but! i know hiwatari-kun! and --- i know dark, too. dark: what do you mean? daisuke: you ... aren't dark. dark: --- ?! daisuke: it's true that dark dislikes hiwatari-kun, but he sees him as an individual, not as part of the hikari clan... at least in front of me. to be obsessed with the hikari's art, you must be... idea, right?

the fake dark transforms into idea, who calls daisuke quick to have noticed things and pretty smart despite only being a 'human niwa.' daisuke asks why he and hiwatari were absorbed into this place, but idea vents at him for only continuing to steal hikari artworks while his only goal was the hikari clan.

idea: shut up! you have the answer! i keep reaching out, but even if i do, i can't reach it! but even so, i still feel a burning desire to reach out, so i reach out again, but i still can't reach it! daisuke: ... idea: i admire the hikari's works and want to reach that height. do you understand the pain of being possessed by a desire and losing everything?!

switch to krad!

krad: that's right. you don't know anything. you are a special being, a member of the hikari family. you... hiwatari: yeah, i don't want to understand the lamentations of those who have given up and gave up trying. krad: correct. that nobility is what makes you so attractive, but at the same time, it makes you lonely. hiwatari: shut up! krad: that's why you don't try to understand others. at the same time... you are not understood by others. here... it's lonely. hiwatari: ngh... krad: that should have been fine for you before. not attached, not possessed, your heart never ached for others... hiwatari: ... krad: even though i've done so much for you, you just look away. hiwatari: you don't see me! krad: satoshi-sama's feelings are mistaken. hiwatari: shut up! what do you know? you don't know anything either! krad: you can't understand others, and you're not understood. you are, for eternity, lonely. hiwatari: i'm ... not lonely... !!

switch to daisuke.

daisuke: it's true that i don't understand you... how much you've yearned for the hikari and how much you've despaired, but... is yearning really just such a bad feeling? idea: what? daisuke: after i spent a year with dark, i started thinking, 'i wish i could be like dark...!' i don't know what i was thinking. idea: that's what i long for. a longing that can never be fulfilled and disappears into black despair! in the end, the shape of the work is like a crack. daisuke: --- but you know, i don't want to drown in admiration. the desire to become something and to know more about it, gives me the courage to take a step forward.

cue a flashback to riku saying that she was getting to know daisuke little by little.

daisuke: this is also about moving forward. if i move forward, the person i admire is waiting for me. that's what i believe.

cue another flashback of riku remembering seeing 'daisuke as dark for a moment.'

daisuke: i want to catch up with him someday. that's what i aspire for.

switch to krad.

krad: that feeling is usually comical and not beautiful, even though i and satoshi-sama are connected by a bond of fate. hiwatari: you ... krad: you are the giver. what else can you be? hiwatari: ... krad: he is in this idea, a tether that confines him forever. and you too will continue to watch here, forever suffering the pain of what you cannot obtain. you can only look at the artworks of the hikari. daisuke: don't be fooled, hiwatari-kun! hiwatari: niwa---?! krad: impossible! from where---?! daisuke: that isn't krad! you knew that, right?!

hiwatari agrees - although the tone is just like krad's, there's a crucial difference: he'd never give up on the kokuyoku.

hiwatari: show me you would never even think of locking me up to die in a piece of art like this... idea!

glass shattering sound fx, whatever was separating daisuke from hiwatari crumbles and daisuke says he's glad hiwatari isn't hurt. idea fumes, hiwatari begins to speak.

hiwatari: it's true that there's a dazzling admiration inside of me, but not everyone is crushed by it. the answer is not to become the same as your idol. you can just hold it close to your heart and use it as a guidepost, like a brother. daisuke: hiwatari-kun... hiwatari: first of all, i can't become a niwa. he's too soft-hearted. daisuke: ...eh? i-i don't know if i'm that good-natured ... hiwatari: yes. in fact, he wants to save this artwork without destroying it. am i wrong? daisuke: mhm... you're not wrong! idea: you're just rambling on and on! daisuke: hey, idea... why don't you let me steal you? idea: wh... what? hiwatari: it's not a bad suggestion. idea: what are you on about?! hiwatari: the reason the hikari ancestors didn't destroy idea was because there was a secret in its name. 'the maiden's eyes, idea.' that means the viewer. daisuke: the viewer... always following what they admire with their gaze. hiwatari: the hikari didn't tolerate imitators, but they did forgive the gaze that was fixed on them. idea: the light that had destroyed their brothers so much... that's how it should be, i'm sure, but ---! daisuke: the creator of you gave you that name with a wish in mind. hiwatari: "i want to continue watching these light-hearted works and admire them even after i die." idea: that... i didn't understand the meaning of my birth... daisuke: then... take a look with me! hiwatari-kun's feelings... the hikari's feelings! idea: why you steal... isn't that like a hikari's work? daisuke: yeah, that's right! hiwatari: what you said didn't sound bad. daisuke: but... is it okay? you'll be helping me steal it. hiwatari: as long as it isn't a hikari artwork, then there's no problem if i step back. idea: (laughs) it can't be... being stolen by a niwa! how do you like that?

daisuke: well then, looks like the deal's done! let's go back, hiwatari-kun. hiwatari: yeah. even so... your bottomless kindness--- daisuke: hm? hiwatari (whispering): i admire it.

^ ooooh that delivery was CRAZY thank you akira ishida HOLY MOLY!!! ZOOWEE!!!

TRACK 3.

cut back to krad and dark. the real ones this time! krad tells dark they're finally going to become one. dark says he doesn't give a shit about that and some glittery magic sound fx cue daisuke and satoshi's return to their respective angels within them --- dark says he was getting tired of waiting and daisuke begs dark to steal idea. dark says he doesn't know what happened while daisuke was inside the artwork, but that (idea) is the Great His (ore-sama's...) thing.

krad also welcomes satoshi back with an extremely formal greeting, (one reserved for partners) to which satoshi says it's dangerous for him to keep his eyes off of things. krad calmly calls it a conundrum, only, too bad for sato, "it's his time."

krad starts blasting, dark flies off towards the water while saying if the whole museum's destroyed there won't even be anything for him to steal, but he also tells daisuke to leave things to dark-sama when daisuke asks where they're trying to go. inside of krad, satoshi holds krad back to give dark an opportunity to attack- dark goes all phsew!!! and krad lets out dark's name at five thousand reverbeating decibels; maiden's eyes (idea) get. krad runs out of power, but dark's completely beat too- daisuke starts falling and lands in some water, while hiwatari says he was cushioned by some trees and soil. daisuke thanks him, and hiwatari says he was only paying back what he owed. daisuke looks for idea, but hiwatari says he doesn't have it anymore and that he dropped it somewhere.

risa and riku appear, with risa guiding everyone towards the crash and riku wondering what in the world they'd do if dark was really there. the two end up surprised to see daisuke and hiwatari together. while daisuke fumbles for an excuse, hiwatari speaks up to tell them that they both came all this way after chasing dark, but he had escaped at the very last moment.

risa: awww, it's such a shame! hiwatari: that's right, such a real shame. i'll catch him next time. daisuke: i-is that so?

riku gives daisuke a loooong stare then lets everything go - it's fine as long as daisuke's safe. plus, it's his birthay so she can give him a special pardon. since dark ran off, there was nothing left for everyone but to go home, only risa wants to keep searching just in case dark turns up. riku says no, it's getting late and cold, and hiwatari asks if they aren't forgetting someone? cut to takeshi sneezing all alone - everyone's left him, but he's still hoping to stake out the scoop, so hurry up, dark, no, dark-sama, and show up to give him the chance to take a picture! pl-ea-se!!!!!

cut to daisuke flopping into his bed. dark says their birthday flew by, but daisuke suddenly asks for the time, then sits right back up and starts doing something despite dark's concerns over his sleep --- daisuke ends ups finishing a picture of dark as a present from him, because it's their anniversary, as risa called it.

dark: daisuke... daisuke: how... is it? dark: pfft. no good! daisuke: ehhh?! ⤴⤴⤴ ngh, i don't know if it's because maybe it's not all that good, but --- dark: no, that's not it.

dark explains that he just doesn't want to receive any presents from men and daisuke asks what the heck that's supposed to be. dark'd be happy to get anything from a girl, but he won't be happy in the slightest if he gets something from a guy. daisuke pouts: he thought he'd celebrate dark's birthday, but that's enough! dark instead announces he's going to steal it, and daisuke asks what happened to not accepting presents from guys? dark says as a legendary phantom thief, treasures weren't given as presents, they were stolen --- daisuke says dark's not really being honest.

dark asks what the title of portrait is, and daisuke says that there isn't one, to which dark retorts that receiving an artwork with that kind of noise is a real turn off. he tells daisuke to call it something, to which daisuke thinks to call it his aspiration: dark hesitates, and daisuke asks if it's no good. dark calls him a huuuuuge softy for giving his picture a title like that and starts to laugh, to which daisuke says he's had enough--- he hates dark and he's going to bed! he falls asleep in a solid three seconds leaving dark to himself. he starts using daisuke's body while he's asleep, telling wiz to hush so that daisuke doesn't wake in the middle of anything. before daisuke, dark had never received a gift from the niwa before- this was the first time.

dark: "my aspiration," huh? (*clocktower ringing*) dark: the date's changed. i forgot to say it, but happy birthday, daisuke. a birthday is a day that tells us that time is definitely moving forward, and you're moving forward with aspirations in your heart. just like you admire me, i've often thought i wanted to have you. so maybe we're becoming the same. hey, daisuke... ... is it alright if i can be you?

#reference.#fav #AUGH #OKAY #I DID IT!#s/o to keikotwins/lys for giving me the mp3s in the first place #im giving back to society....#I like idea’s true art name and the whole eyes seeking light/being blind by aspirations bit. clever!!

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