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gublernatural · 18 days ago

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spring equinox | s.w.

my submission for the Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom April Challenge <3

prompt: I missed feeling the sun on my skin.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is not only dead, but stuck in Hell (so sorry) but there are no real descriptions of what happened down there, sam is grieving hard in the beginning, i actually edited a fic for once (thank u for beta-ing @crowleysmistress)

summary: the spring brings flowers, vampire hunts, and a beautiful gift for a grieving sam.

January first. The marker of the new year, a symbol of change. It never made sense to Sam; January first being the start of the calendar, yeah, sure, but seeing it as a new beginning never made any sense. What was new about it?

Dead-set in the middle of the winter months, bringing Kansas nothing but dreary, cold weather. No celebrations that were particularly enticing to Sam, and this year Sam can’t even bring himself to accompany Dean to the bar to watch whatever performances are playing on the TV, play wing man so Dean can “start the new year off with a bang” (his words), and countdown to midnight.

No, Sam is stuck in bed, stuck in the same pattern he’d been in at the beginning of what has felt like a forever winter.

Grief.

Sam’s most familiar friend. It’s haunted him his entire life, quite literally since he was a baby. No matter how much older he grows, how many changes he has tried to make or goals he has tried to achieve, he cannot escape loss. Just as January cannot escape the dreadful winter.

However, this time was different for Sam. This loss, this pain, this grief, felt different. It felt like a blizzard, surrounding him in nothing but cold and giving him a bone-deep ache in his chest. His steps felt heavy as he walked, as if he was trying to track through foot upon foot of snow.

His girl. The one person in the world who was his. His to hold, to protect, to love. The one person in this world who was able to handle all of him in every kind of way.

You were a hunter, too. Sam remembered a conversation he’d had with his brother just a few days before you hunted them down, quite literally. A conversation about making it work with another hunter, someone who understood the life they lived.

Then you showed up, leaning against the impala, heated about their heavy steps alerting the ōkami to their presence, ready to cuss both of them out despite it turning out to be a successful hunt after all.

Sam, instantly enamored with you, let your angry rant go in one ear and out the other. He looked at you with the puppy dog eyes he saved for when he really, really wanted something and said, “ Do you want to get a drink with us?” He wasn't sure if your face or Dean’s scrunched up faster. Your rant stopped, and you stumbled over an answer, completely forgetting about what was pissing you off in the first place. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” you accepted. Sam ignored the way Dean mumbled a “great” under his breath.

And now you are gone. Years later, after a long journey you’d taken with the Winchesters, you were gone. Not just gone, but stuck. Stuck in hell. And there was nothing Sam could do about it and that hurt worse than anything he’d ever been through.

“C’mon, man, it’s Jody,” Dean ushered, resting against Sam’s door frame. “You know she wouldn’t be calling unless she needed us. Both of us.”

Sam knew he was right, even if it was an excuse for Dean to finally get him out of bed. “Okay,” Sam sighed. Dean tried to fight the smirk that was growing on his face, happy to see his brother finally getting vertical. Sam rubbed his face, trying to push off the exhaustion, anger, and sadness he had been feeling. He moved slowly as he got ready, not feeling any motivation to rush.

By the time Sam met Dean in the car, the sun had started to set. “Let’s go, Sammy. We got a couple hours ride ahead of us,” Dean cheered. There was no complaint about Sam taking too long to get ready, no music that was too loud, and no songs that Dean knew Sam didn’t like. Sam pretended not to notice how thoughtful Dean was being. No chick flick moments, Sam thought.

he hunt was something that Claire had stumbled onto. It took all of them a few days to figure out what they were hunting, and even longer to successfully gank it; allowing February to roll into March, and snow start to turn into rain. It was a group success, one that had Sam feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could be okay without you. Not good, but functioning. Enough that he could get back to doing what he does best; saving people, hunting things, the family business. Outside of you, that was his purpose.

You would want him to keep going, that he knew.

“You alright?” Dean asked as they took their seats in the impala. Sam felt warm for the first time in months. His belly full with Jody and Alex’s home cooked meal, his brother by his side, and a new outlook on what he needs to be doing. The blankets on his bed did not provide the same warmth, the same comfort, that being around his family did. Even if it was missing someone, he belongs with his family.

As Dean drove, Sam spent his time online, looking for the next case. He braced himself with how he approached it. Dean would shut him down if he thought he was getting too eager, dealing with his grief by putting his own life on the line.

“Hey, look,” Sam broke the silence as Dean rolled up to a redlight a few hours away from Jody’s, on their way home. “Like 30 miles that way,” Sam vaguely gestured over Dean’s shoulder, “They found two bodies drained of all of their blood two days ago.” Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, a silent invitation for a detour. Dean shrugged tiredly, but turned towards the town.

A simple vamp hunt that only took a few days for the brothers to wrap up. Sammy woke up on the morning of the Spring Equinox, feeling like he could finally start his new year. Surrounded by sunshine, Sam deemed March 20th his new January 1st, and set a resolution for himself: I am going to always keep fighting. For the people who needed to be saved, for his brother, for you.

That was all he needed to do. Keep fighting.

The Impala slowed to a stop just a few yards outside of the bunker. Far enough that Sam couldn’t see the front door through the trees. “You good?” Dean asked as Sam stepped out, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, you should park it in the garage. I need a little R and R for a few days.” Dean nodded, happy his brother was able to admit that for once, and pulled off towards the garage.

Sam walked down the dirt path with a pep in his step that hadn’t been there when they first left for Jody’s. He felt different. Lighter. Warmer.

“I’ll have to thank her,” Sam thought, grateful for Jody’s impact on his life.

Sam scanned the clearing in front of the bunker, hunter’s instinct. His eyes followed the horizon until the woods came into view. He inspected them from a distance, making sure nothing weird was out there. And nothing was, so he continued his search until his eyes landed on the front door of the bunker.

His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed legs dangling from the concrete pad atop the door. He let out a gasp as his gaze drifted upwards. He would recognize that face anywhere, any day, from any distance.

His girl.

Sam’s backpack was on the ground and his long legs were sprinting up the hill before he could register where he was going. Before those hunter’s instincts could kick in. He could hear your laughter as he made his way to you. Your real laughter, not a recording or an old voicemail of it. Your genuine, true laughter. If Sam thought he was warm before, he was overheating now.

Sam tried his best to be gentle as he pulled you into his arms. He was like an excited dog, one that has the best of intentions but forgets how big he really is. All of sudden, you were surrounded by nothing but Sam. For the first time in what felt like years, you were finally home.

Sam allowed himself to bask in the idea of you before he pulled away, “Are you real?” Something he should’ve considered before he was within harming distance, especially given his history. You nodded, raising your forearm to show the cut from where you’d tested yourself with silver. After your time in Hell, you had to be sure for yourself you were real. Sure, you felt real, the world around you seemed real, but you had been tortured with it all, and much worse, before. Your guard was up and it was going to take a lot to break it down.

“I tried it all, I swear. Silver, holy water, I even tried to find Ruby’s knife just to be sure.” Sam’s face twisted in confusion. You sighed, knowing you owed him an explanation. First, you claimed your seat back in front of the bunker door. You’d been deprived of all things nature for far too long. It was the end of March, when it finally starts to feel like Spring again in Kansas, and you wanted to bask in all the world had to offer for as long as possible.

As Sam took his place on the ground next to you, he fired off another question, “Why are you out here? You could’ve gone in.” He was still wary of you being real. The real you knew how to get in, yet you were sitting outside.

You shrugged, this time a slow, sadder shrug, and answered, “I missed feeling the sun on my skin.” And with that, Sam understood. He knew you were stuck in Hell, he knew you remembered every second of it, he knew you were real.

With a sad smile, he pulled you closer and pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “You don’t have to tell me now, you don’t have to tell me at all, you just have to tell me that you are going to be okay.” Maybe it would take days, weeks, years, decades, he didn’t care. You only had to promise him you would be okay, eventually.

“I will, I have you.” You replied, pressing yourself closer to him. You were sure you would be. Not today, probably not even soon, but one day. You were here, real, alive. You could feel the sun on your skin and Sam’s skin pressed against your own. That was all you needed to have a chance for a new beginning. No matter the day.

#FFWotSPNF Monthly Writing Challenge #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester angst #sam winchester hurt/comfort #supernatural imagine #supernatural blurb #supernatural drabble #supernatural fic #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader

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prettyyoungandbored · 9 months ago

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saw you wrote for Charlie and I desperately need to read Charlie fanfics that aren’t my own. So here I am, being that girl, who is requesting a Charlie x FemReader in college. I was thinking that they’re in the same class and Charlie thinks she’s beautiful and tries to work up the courage to ask her on a date. Nothing crazy, just something fluffy and sweet ❤️

M’am, you helped really ignite my love for Charlie Dalton with your brilliant work so I am truly honored by this.

I hope you love it!

Doodles - Charlie Dalton

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x Fem!Reader

NOT MY GIF

For as long as he could remember, Charlie always opted to sit in the back row of every class he ever attended. He loved that it gave him a chance to drift off when needed.

It was no different when he attended Harvard University.

He took a seat and opened his notebook, ready to doodle for the next hour and a half. Just as he reached for his pencil, the damn thing fell on the ground.

He leaned down to grab it when another pair of hands got a hold of it first. His eyes trailed up the hand and he found himself eye-to-eye with her.

Her being the girl who sat next to him. When she took the seat next to him on the first day of class, he thanked whatever higher being there was for giving him the opportunity. But just as he went over to talk to her at the end of class, she’d left.

Before every class he’d promised himself he’d talk to her. Talking to pretty girls had always been easy for Charlie. He’d never had a problem talking to girls.

Why is she any different? he thought to himself.

The answer came on the second day of class when she giggled at one of his doodles and suddenly, Charlie felt like the king of the world.

In the next couple of classes, he would doodle something and she’d smile or giggle. Sometimes it was a characature of the professor, other times it was just random doodles.

And yet, he’d never uttered a word to her, nor she him.

Until now.

“Can’t draw without your pencil,” she chuckled softly.

The fact she was smiling at him made him lose his breath. For the first time in his life, Charlie didn’t feel worthy of a pretty girl’s smile.

He took the pen, trying to hide his own smile. “No I can’t.”

She took the seat beside him as he stared off, excitement brewed inside. She’d noticed him. She probably did only because she was curious as to why he stared at her from the corner of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure why but something inside of him - maybe it was the old Charlie - told him to seize the opportunity.

So, while the professor droned on and on, Charlie was busy conjuring up a way to ask her out. Then he realized his answer - a doodle. But it needed to be good enough to get her to say yes.

That’s when he started drawing a flower. He tried with a rose first but it proved to be a difficult task. Rose petals were not his strong suit.

So he started on asters. Asters had to be easy right?

Wrong. Again, petals were his worst enemy as his aster pedals looked like hot dogs.

He moved onto cosmos and started to get somewhere. He sighed in relief. He was finally getting somewhere.

That’s when he saw a folded note on his desk. He picked it up and in cursive handwriting it read, “No boob drawings today? Are you ok?”

He looked over at her and she smiled at him. He smiled back and mouthed, “you’ll see.”

He continued on with his cosmos flowers until he felt it was enough.

Now it was time to bring it home with the question. What could he write to make this girl go out with him?

That’s when it hit him.

=================================

As Y/N gathered her stuff at the end of class, she noticed a folded piece of paper on her desk. On it was a handwritten note.

OPEN ME.

She opened it to find a bunch of flowers sketched out all over the lined paper. Then, in the middle of the page in red ink, it read:

I suck at drawing flowers, but I’ll have some real ones for you on Friday night. Meet me at the library at 7 pm.

#charlie dalton #dead poets society #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton imagine

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sweetbabycheesez · 6 days ago

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Can’t Help Falling in Love

The knock comes just after one in the morning.

Not the kind of knock that wants attention. The kind you might miss if the wind picked up. Just a few taps against the glass, hesitant and spaced out like whoever’s knocking isn’t sure they should be. You were already half-awake—had been lying there staring at the ceiling, counting the glow-in-the-dark stars your niece stuck up there last summer, thinking about the way the air smelled like rain.

You sit up, squinting toward the window. It’s Johnny. You’d know that shape anywhere—slouched shoulders, thin frame, arms crossed like he’s holding himself together. His jacket hangs off him like it’s borrowed from someone bigger. It might be.

You don’t bother with slippers. You slide across the wooden floor in your socks, your brother’s old flannel shirt hanging off one shoulder. You tug up the window, careful not to let it screech.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

He leans in closer to the screen, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Hey. I… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart sinks.

You push the window screen up and step back. “Come on. Get in.”

He climbs in slow, careful not to step on anything, even though your room’s not messy. His boots thud softly on the floor. You close the window behind him and draw the curtain.

Now that he’s inside, you see it clearer—his hands are shaking. Just a little. His hair’s a little damp near the temple, like he’d been sweating or crying or both. His eyes are darker than usual, too.

“Bad night?” you ask gently.

He doesn’t look at you when he answers. “My old man got drunk again. Started shoutin’ at my ma. Then at me.” He shrugs. “Guess I just didn’t wanna be there.”

You nod, even though he’s still not looking. “You wanna sit down?”

He hesitates. “I don’t wanna wake anybody up.”

“My brother sleeps like a brick. C’mon.”

You tug him gently by the sleeve toward the bed. He follows, stiff and awkward. Sits on the edge first, then runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

“You okay?” you ask.

Johnny lets out a small laugh. Not a funny laugh. A sad one. “Not really.”

You climb in beside him, pull the blanket over your legs. He doesn’t lie down, just sits there, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his hand.

“You know you don’t have to say anything,” you murmur. “Just… stay. You’re safe here.”

He finally looks at you. His voice is barely a whisper. “You sure?”

You nod. “I wouldn’t have let you in if I wasn’t.”

A long silence stretches out. You can hear the tick of the hallway clock. The hum of the fridge downstairs. Somewhere far off, a dog barks once, twice, then nothing.

Then Johnny says, “I feel like… like I don’t belong anywhere.”

You shift closer, careful not to scare him off. “You belong here. With me. Anytime.”

He blinks, like he’s not used to hearing things like that. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just… I didn’t know what else to do. I left the house and just started walking. My feet took me here.”

You smile, gentle and real. “Good. I’m glad they did.”

He finally lies back, tentatively, like the bed might reject him. You move with him, keeping the blanket up, making sure there’s space between you—but not too much. He rests his head on your pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

“Your room smells good,” he says suddenly.

You laugh, soft. “Yeah? Like what?”

“I dunno… like flowers and cigarettes.”

You reach over and flick the collar of his jacket. “You smell like leather and motor oil. So we’re even.”

He gives a little grin. It fades quick, but it was there.

Then, after a pause: “I’m real tired.”

“Then sleep.”

He turns onto his side, facing you now. “Can I… Is it okay if I…”

You don’t let him finish. You scoot closer and wrap your arm around his side, careful, like he’s glass.

His breath hitches, then slows.

He doesn’t say another word.

You wake up sometime later to sunlight peeking through the curtains and the soft smell of maple syrup in the air. Johnny is still asleep, curled into your side, his face pressed gently against your shoulder. His arm’s looped around your waist like it found its way there during the night. His breathing is soft and steady, and he’s warmer than he was when he arrived.

You don’t move.

He looks peaceful. Not scared, not stiff. Just... safe.

You’re still watching him when your door creaks open.

“Hey, you—Ma said breakfa—”

You flinch. Johnny stirs. Your older brother freezes in the doorway, mouth open, a piece of toast in his hand. His eyes flick from you to Johnny, still half-asleep beside you, then back again.

He lets out a sharp breath through his nose. “Huh.”

“Could you not just barge in?” you snap.

Johnny’s eyes open slowly. He squints toward the door, disoriented. You reach back to pull the blanket up over him instinctively.

Your brother shrugs, not missing a beat. “You never lock the damn door.”

You glare. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

Johnny’s face is flushed now. He sits up fast, running a hand over his face. “I—I should go—”

“No,” you say, catching his wrist. “Stay. He’s not gonna say anything.”

Your brother’s already turning around. “Didn’t see nothin’. Pancakes are on the stove.”

Then, like an afterthought: “Cade?”

Johnny freezes.

Your brother glances back. “Next time, maybe use the front door.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Johnny exhales, deflates a little, then looks at you. His voice is scratchy, almost sheepish. “Sorry.”

You smile. “Don’t be.”

And for once, he doesn’t argue.

#the outsiders #johnny cade #johnny #s.e hinton #dallas winston #johnny cade x reader #greaser #soc #theoutsiders #comingofage #fluff #oneshot #request #quick write

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graysnetwork · 2 years ago

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I’ve been posting a lot saying stay ff abt writing, (and honestly the Keegan brothers bsf thingy is still a wip) but I just had some thoughts about Keegan.

TATTOOS? — KEEGAN RUSS x FEM!READER

Warnings: a lot of kissing, pet/nick names(princess, keegs), reader is said to be a girl, and this is not at all proofread or even checked for grammar corrections.

Summary: while Keegan’s tired self is asleep and your bored you can’t help but give him some tattoos.

—

Keegan had been on leave for a while now, which he deserved, you two had been making the most of him being back for now. You’d get bored from time to time since he was gone a lot, and it was really boring without your man. And you couldn’t exactly get a dog.

So you cooked a lot in your free time, drew, colored, watched almost everything on earth. So you had a lot of hobies now, and now that Keegan was back it’s less boring, having him be around and doing things like actually having a conversation with someone other than family on the phone made you so happy.

But Keegan’s a hard working man, he does so many things, on and off the field that he gets tired (at this point your surprised he hasn’t gotten gray hairs)

It’s really surprising

But due to all the work he does, he’s really tired, and already so sleep deprived, so he sleeps a lot. Even a tired Keegan walks through the door ready to have you ass up, but you know now that he’s a different type of tired when all he wants to do is sleep.

“Keegs?” You whispered, unsure if he was asleep or not, a groan was his response so you laid there next to him as he slept, it was barely 7 pm and he’d been outside working on your car, but he looked like a old man having his bedtime at 7.

The whole bed moved as he laid back, having his bare torso showing. Now, Keegan doesn’t have tattoos and he’s never had a thought of getting one, but the small thought in your brain of him actually having one, makes your mind go hazy.

Either way it didn’t matter, he was hot with or without it, and even more adorable when he was sleeping peacefully. But a girl can dream, right?

With that dream in your mind, and a pen on the nightstand next to you, you began drawing designs on your boyfriends stomach, you now hated his abs for how hard it was to draw on them. But that was besides the point.

You drew a couple of things, your name in a interesting looking “font” and drew a small airplane on the side of his stomach as to not make anything to big, or fuck the drawing up. Eventually you began working on a flower, a nice simple lily, it was simple but it looked very “professional” and detailed. Thanks to the tutorial you’d watched a while back.

You began connecting it with another flower with more leaves till there were four flowers in total drawn on him, he hadn’t even moved the whole time. Maybe he’d woken up and just didn’t want to say anything? Nope, he was sound asleep as you checked his face.

As the hour passed by your started getting sleep too. You laid there watching him before finally falling asleep along with Keegan. One of the most peaceful sleeps you’d had. (since every night without having Keegan wasn’t amazing)

What only felt like a quick second was actually hours and you woke up to the sun rising again, Keegan was still sound asleep when you opened your eyes, the sight was weird almost, he always woke up very early and ended up in the kitchen drinking coffee as he couldn’t sleep again even if he was still tired.

You glanced at the drawing on his stomach which had t looked like it faded at all so you assumed he wasn’t tossing and turning at night.

You were still tired and managed to fall back asleep for a while before waking up to movement. You opened your eyes when you felt Keegan’s arm move, he groaned a bit and rubbed his eyes.

“Morning keegs”you said, moving a little to remove your head from his chest, he frowned a bit at that and finally looked at you “g’morning princess” he said, he hadn’t noticed his new drawings yet.

You leaned up a little and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, he seemed unhappy with that and leaned into you for another kiss before pulling away.

“What time did I fall asleep yesterday?” He asked, the rasp in his voice becoming more apparent now. “7, 7:30” you said and sat up, he hummed and it didn’t sound happy, but not mad either,“it seems like your boyfriend has a curfew” he said jokingly as he mentions the other nights he feel asleep in the afternoon.

You let out a chuckle before saying “yeah, I’m dating an old man” and now he was the one laughing, he had such a sweet and cute laugh.

“Well princess” he sat up and placed his forehead on yours “your old man gonna need someone to help in the shower than, right?” He said and gave you another kiss.

When he finally got up passing the mirror he finally took notice to the ink on his abs. He stared at himself for a while before he turned back to you as you seemed to be staring at him as well, “what?” You smiled “I like your new tattoos” you said and got up off the bed. He smiled at that, turning his attention back to the mirror.

“They’re not terrible” he said “very, nice” he finished as his hand grazed his stomach. “I like this a lot” he pointed at the one with your name, “love it” he corrected himself.

It made you giggle as he placed his hands on your hips to lean in and kiss you again. He pulled away only inches apart from you “This is what you do when I’m asleep?” He asked going back to continue the kiss, you nodded into the kiss.

#imagines #x reader stories #fluff #call of duty #oneshot #keegan p russ #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #i need him #I wanna wake up to him omg

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zipzapzopzoop · 1 year ago

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I Tried it at Home

Chapter 2: What Goes Up...

Saturday, August 16th, 2036 - 4:37AM

The Father of the Future awoke to a scream.

Neither he nor his wife needed share a word between them as they sprang out of bed and rushed to the back door.

Gaston, Art, and Carl heard it too. The robot leapt from his charging bay and looked wide eyed at the Framaguccis, silently asking if they’d heard it too. The serious expressions the brothers shared confirmed that they had.

Billie had been the first to find him… Laszlo was sprawled out on his back and writhing helplessly in pain, his nails digging into the dirt as he gasped for air. Although Carl was happy to finally use the spotlight feature he had, he wishes it was for a happier occasion rather than to shine a light on his wounded cousin so that he could be tended to. Carl wasn’t cold steel like most robots- he hated seeing people get hurt. Especially family.

Cornelius wasted no time, practically sprinting over to help. “Hold the light steady Carl. I’ll get his gear.” He fumbled around his pockets for something- “Here,” Wilbur held out his father’s pocket knife. “I know, I’m not supposed to have it, I’m sorry,” Wilbur said apologetically. Cornelius did a double take, but didn’t have time to speculate. “We’ll have a talk about that later,” Franny gave Wilbur a sharp side eye. Wilbur knew better than to play with such things, but he had never been more glad to have it now.

Laszlo was taking in rough, ragged gasps. Franny had a gentle hand on his shoulder as Cornelius opened the pocket knife and got to work, cutting the strap on Laszlo’s helmet and pulling it off. It seemed to help a bit, if nothing else he sounded like he was getting a bit more air. Franny began to remove his goggles, but Laszlo reached up as if to stop her. “They’re cracked, hun. I don’t want you getting glass in your eyes.” He paused… but slowly let go of her sleeve.

From an outside perspective, the family looked like they had more or less a rescue operation with the way they were huddled over, using a spotlight and giving quick orders to one another. The Robinsons were a lighthearted bunch, very scarcely letting the world get them down and pushing their way through the hard times because no matter what happened, they had each other's backs. But when there was an emergency, you’d find not a better group in your corner in the whole world. The Robinsons would go to war for one another, and everyone knew that.

Franny was known for her motherly instincts. Everyone felt safe and loved so long as she was around. She had a history of adopting those who needed it, regardless of their history, or species, or size. How do you think the dog got here? Franny also had the extraordinary ability mothers seemed to have in which they could manage to be gentle as a flower and sharp as a blade in the same beat. This situation, for example. Laszlo moved to sit up. “Stay down, hun. Billie, I need you to call for help,” Franny’s tone sharpened with instruction. A quick and determined nod and the engineer was off.

“H-help-I-can’t-breathe-e,” Laszlo managed between jolting gasps.

“You got the wind knocked out of you, take a second.”

Gaston, who had been mostly quiet before, shook his head.

“No, it’s worse than that. He’s hurt bad.”

“Breathe,” Franny soothed again.

Gaston Framagucci was no stranger to injury. The hospital staff knew him by name. Every bump, bruise, and bandage was worn with great pride. And so, neither were injuries a stranger to Gaston.

His eyes drew to Laszlo’s chest and the way he struggled to take in air. The artist could feel something wasn’t right, weakly pawing at the lapels of his coat as if trying to get it off. Suddenly, Gaston connected the dots.

“Fran, he can’t.”

“What?”

“Something’s wrong with his lungs. Help me get his coat.”

“Laszlo?!” Fritz’s voice was normally so meek and quiet, but not this time. Not now.

“Dad-”

Fritz hurried over and took Laszlo’s hand, using the hand he’d normally carry Petunia with.

As gently as they could, Franny and Gaston got Laszlo’s coat off and began working on his shirt. Gaston was right. Franny’s eyes widened when she saw the damage. Laszlo’s torso was already turning purple on one side, and it was clear some of his ribs were broken. His ribs had been cracked and punctured one of his lungs.

Fritz cringed and looked away, swallowing down his nausea and squeezing his son’s hand tightly. Laszlo’s breathing picked up and he began to whimper with each breath. He was panicking.

“Hey, hey easy…” Franny began to calm and Fritz joined in.

“Son, I need you to breathe.”

Laszlo honestly thought he might vomit. From the pain or the panic, he has no clue.

“Laszlo!”

They had never seen Tallulah skate so fast. She stumbled the last few feet and dropped over next to her father and brother. She sucked in a sharp gasp and covered her mouth when she saw the injuries. Struggling gasps caught her attention and suddenly Tallulah was sharp as a razor. “Laszlo, Lasz look at me. Deep breaths, just like before okay?”

While both Laszlo and Tallulah had their mother’s quick wit and their father’s creativity, Tallulah inherited her mother’s short temper and Laszlo had his father’s anxiety.

Sure, it was different in Laszlo than it was in Fritz, coming in short episodes rather than a steady constant, but when those episodes hit, they hit hard.

Tallulah held her brother’s shoulders. He was starting to shake pretty bad. “Deep breaths, Lasz.”

Laszlo coughed and began to steady his breathing. It was starting to pass.

“There you go, kiddo.” Gaston gave him a gentle pat on the knee. “Gravity’s got nothing on you.” Despite everything, Laszlo managed a small chuckle (at least, as much as one could with broken ribs and a punctured lung), and bit back a wince at the pain. He was still shaking, but given the situation he was in, it was a bit understandable. He was afraid, but he wasn’t alone.

“Franny!”

Aunt Billie skidded to a stop, shielding her eyes when Carl’s spotlight turned to look at her.

“They’re here!”

_ _ _ _ _

Laszlo isn’t sure when he had passed out.

Someone picked him up, the pain got worse, and then nothing.

Where was he now? He could feel he was flying in a vehicle, that was for certain. There was an oxygen mask on his face. He’s… on a stretcher. Laszlo moved to sit up, but a sharp pain in his chest provided a quick reminder to what was happening in the first place. Where is everybody…? Dad? Aunt Franny? Lulu…? He couldn’t turn around and see who was driving. Laszlo groaned and laid back down when he felt another sharp pang in one of his lungs. He was going to die here. He was going to die here all alone. Nobody can hear him-

It was happening again. He could feel himself beginning to panic. Only this time, nobody was here to help. Something began beeping behind him. A horrible wheezing sound escaped Laszlo’s throat. He grasped at his chest again. “Help…” The engine made him difficult to hear. “Someone please…”

A paramedic pulled back the curtain behind him.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Are you getting oxygen? How’s your pain?”

“W-where’s my family?”

“They’re following behind. They had to hold your sister back, she tried to jump in here after you.” The paramedic gave a smile. It strangely helped.

He climbed in and sat in the seat next to the stretcher.

“Yep, there they are,” he nodded towards the back window of the ambulance. Lasz couldn’t sit up to see, but knowing they were there helped him calm down.

“Your heart rate is spiking and we don’t want you injuring yourself further, so we’re going to go ahead and put you back to sleep until we get you to the hospital, okay?”

Honestly, Laszlo didn’t mind that. Sleep is painless. The faster he went to sleep, the sooner he’d feel better.

“Okay.” The paramedic worked on one of the machines he was hooked up to.

“Count backwards from ten. It’s going to be okay.”

“Ten.” It’s okay.

“Nine.”

Your family’s right there.

“Eight.” Just go to sleep.

Laszlo stopped counting and drifted into a painless sleep.

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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

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coming home - simon ‘ghost’ riley

— simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

— warnings - adult content minors dni (18+) mxf, ghost has a filthy mouth, praise kink (?), pretty soft compared to all the ghost s*** out there tbh, slight description of injury and mentions of death. kinda sad ghost but he fucks it out :)

a/n: i have fallen down the ghost hole. just wanted some domestic shit, also the shower description is just something i want in my dream home so it’s self indulgent as fuck! hope you enjoy. xx (also shout-out to @dinahmadanimybeloved for the lil nudge in the right direction!! i appreciate u. xx)

He’s quiet, and that’s how you know somethings off. Most people think it’s just the way he is, being able to count on one hand the amount of words he’s spoken to them over the years. Ghost doesn’t talk unless he has to, or unless he gives enough of a fuck about whoever’s talking to him, which is rare these days. He could go hours without talking when he was away, a fact that always broke your heart a little.

The truth is, you can never get him to shut up. When he’s home, he’ll talk your ear off about anything. The dog he ran past that morning, the way you should organise your socks, how good you looked wearing his shirt. He was talkative, which is how you knew that something was wrong when he came home this time.

Being the biggest guy you knew, it amazed you how he could walk with such stealth. Even the floorboards seemed scared to creak under his frame as he came through the door. You shot up, nearly flying over the back of the couch. He wasn’t due home for another two weeks— you knew because you were supposed to pick him up from the airport. He was home early, and of course you were ecstatic, but then you saw his face, still covered in that bone white mask, and you knew it wasn’t all good news.

“Simon.” You whisper as you walk towards him. He’d closed the door behind him, locking it, but hadn’t moved from there. Usually you were both bursting with energy when he came home, excitement and adrenaline pumping through your bodies at the long awaited reunion. He was looking down at you, and when you finally stood close enough, one of his hands came up, gingerly cupping your face. “You’re home!”

“Hey, baby.” He says slowly, eyes holding yours. The hand he had behind his back touched your side, and you looked down, seeing about a dozen roses in a bouquet, stalks fisted in his gloved hand. “Got ‘em for you.”

“They’re gorgeous. Here—“ You take them, letting the sweet smell fill your senses and move quickly to put them in a vase on the counter— a spot reserved for whenever Simon brought you flowers. It seemed to be a constant thing, and it never failed to have you feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. “I love them. Thank-you.”

“‘Course.” The tone of his voice only confirms your suspicions about something being off, and it has your heart dropping through the floor.

“You should of told me you were coming home. I would of come picked you up!” You smile up at him, trying to gage where his mood is.

“Finished early. Thought I’d surprise you.” His hands come back to your face, holding your head up at the perfect angle. There was a significant height difference between you, so you were in a constant state of looking up at him.

“Did everything go… good?” You ask tentatively. He’d told you some of the things he’s done over there with the 141, but you always try not to pry. You know it’s brutal, and he sees the worst of the world, so when he trusts you with something, you take it to the grave. When he doesn’t, you don’t ask.

“No. Nothing did.” He says, still holding your face up to his. You bend up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to the nose of his mask. “I just needed to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re home.” Your arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer. You press your face into his chest, sinking into the feeling of him being home. After so long, it never gets any easier. Watching him leave, never really knowing when he’d be back. If he was safe. “You want something to eat? I can make dinner.”

He shakes his head, gently pulling your face back from his chest. When your hands snake up his front, he just watches you. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes— still had that black paint smudged across his eyes. He must of gotten straight on a plane after whatever he was doing had come to an abrupt end. Your fingertips brush his jaw, the bottom of his mask, and when you go to pull it up over his mouth and nose, he doesn’t stop you.

“Can I take it off?” You check, feeling how stiff he is under your hands. He nods once, and tilts his head, allowing you to pull it all the way off. “There you are.”

“I missed you.” He says simply, but the words pack such a punch when he looks like this. To an outsider he’s hard at nails, sharp and pointy and dangerous to get close to, but you see him under the paint and the body armour. “Missed you so fucking bad, baby.”

“Prove it.” You see a flash of his teeth, just the smallest hint of a smile, and your stomach does a backflip because it feels like a win. Then, he leans in, kissing you softly, with the care he would hold broken glass— hands guiding you forward and up, thumbs tracing gently along your cheek bones.

You sigh, nearly melting into his body. Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with the short hair that he’d cut while he was away. You always have to fix it for him when he comes home— he just hacks away at any hair hanging out of his mask, mostly getting frustrated and buzzing it off until he can get you to cut it again. When your fingertips scrape lightly along his skull, he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters as you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, careful to only apply a little bit of pressure. You were sure he was covered in enough painful marks as it was— you didn’t want to add to it. He leans down further, chasing your mouth, foreheads pressing together.

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head then dips down, kissing your jaw, nose nudging you to the side to get better access to your neck. Your breathe hitches and you sigh his name, him smiling in response against your skin. You can feel the black smudge of his face paint slowly covering your own, like a trail of all the places he’s touched you.

“I only wanna hear you sayin’ my name like that. Don’t want to think about—“ You say his name again, drowning out the thoughts of whatever happened over there. That wasn’t now— he was here, and safe, and if he needed to be distracted, that’s exactly what you would give him.

“Need you to wash this paint off first.” You murmur, your voice a little lower than normal, making him almost shudder. You drop your hands from his neck, letting them fall slowly between your bodies before you loop your fingers in his belt buckle, walking backwards. “You’ll get me all dirty.”

“I would’a thought you’d like that.” He grabs a handful of your ass, nearly making you trip over as you step back, but he catches you easily and picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses his paint covered face to yours, kissing your nose and face wherever he can reach, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you must look now, covered in smears of black.

“I do. Just want an excuse to see you naked.” You taunt in his ear as he finally reaches the shower and flicks it on, still fully clothed. “You buzzed your hair again.”

“You know I can’t do it right without you.” He puts you down, quickly ripping off his own shirt before reaching for the hem of yours.

He’s slower with it, the fabric brushing against your sides, giving you goosebumps. It doesn’t matter how many times you take your shirt off in front of him, he always looks just as dazed as he did the first time, and you always get just as nervous.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Come ‘ere.”

He pulls you fully under the stream of the shower. It’s one of your favourite places in your shared house— a giant shower head that let the water fall as fine as rain, with enough space for his giant body not to have to bend at awkward angles to wash his hair (when he had some). It was also well big enough for the both of you, a feature you both utilised every morning and night you spent together.

He works at your shorts next, easily slipping you out of the now wet cotton, leaving you just in a set of underwear. They weren’t particularly cute— like you said, you would normally dress up for him to come home, but he wasn’t due for two weeks. Simon didn’t seem to mind, hands running wildly over your body, eyes on fire. You were starting to see him clearer now, the paint running off his face and down his bare chest in shadowed droplets.

“God, Simon…” You lean back just an inch, seeing the new marks on his chest and shoulder. A new bullet wound in the right arm. A gash that extends all the way up his left side. It still looked like it was healing— the stitches must of only come out a few days ago.

“I’m okay.” He says, kissing your collarbone.

“I don’t like when you get hurt.” You whimper, feeling his strong hands grab your hips, pushing your underwear down. “Are you sure—“

“Let me take your mind off it.” He leans down further, kissing your chest, and then drops completely, landing on his knees in front of you. He was so tall that he still needed to bend lower to kiss his way down, feeling his lips press softly on your hip bones, then your stomach. “Look at you. Such a pretty girl.”

He taps your inner thigh with two fingers, a silent command. You follow, spreading your legs slightly. He’s not satisfied, hooking one leg over his shoulder while the other is pinned between him and the wall. At this point you weren’t even holding yourself up— the display of brute strength making your head feel fuzzy.

“Dreamt about this.” He kisses closer, skin that hasn’t been touched in weeks nearly sparking under his manipulation. “Out on base. Couldn’t keep this pussy out of my head.”

“Simon, please.” You beg shamelessly. You have no pride when it comes to him, not when he’s holding you like this, reducing you to putty in his hands before he’s even really touched you.

“Never leaving this house again.” His words nearly get lost between your thighs. You arch your back to encourage him, but he holds you flat. “Gonna keep you here forever. Right here, just like this.”

“Simon.”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d say my name all pretty like that and let me do whatever I wanted.” You were nodding furiously, hands finding little purchase in his short hair but it was all you could do to get him closer— “Want you to ride my face. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Okay, please… please just—“

“What, baby?”

“Fucking touch me, Simon. Please.” You know he doesn’t respond to bad manners, so you throw as many around as you can. He smiles between your legs, kissing your thigh once more before you lose sight of his now clean face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck!”

He’s no stranger to eating you out— he always tells you how much he loves it, like it’s a reward for him. He always makes you see stars, too, but right now, the way he’s practically taking you apart from the middle out, it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before. He keeps one hand on your hip, pinning you under him, the other slipping a finger inside of you, working in perfect tandem with his mouth.

You can’t decide what it is, but fuck— maybe it’s the water, how soft it falls on the both of you, combined with the overwhelming feeling of having Simon back early and safe— it was having a physical affect on you. Weak knees that were taking none of your weight in them, choked gasps of his name— your eyes roll back in your head before long, hips bucking wildly against his hold as your whole body shudders with pleasure.

“God— so fucking good for me, princess.” He says, taking a second to pull back and admire how strung out you look before diving back into you. His gaze never leaves you then, watching as your face contorts with every glide of his tongue over your clit, or how every time he moves his hand just right your whole body jolts. He seeks it out again and again, and you can feel him smiling underneath you, watching you writhe as liquid heat spreads all the way through your veins, carrying pleasure to every nerve ending you had.

It was an entire body experience, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open anymore. You let him get rougher, at some point hooking your other leg over his shoulder, so you were completely suspended in the air. Your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him in position as you neared your high, and Simon only gripped you tighter, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass. He held you hard, in a way that you knew would leave the good kind of bruise, and the image only sky rocketed your state.

“Don’t stop, Si. Fuck— you’re so good, so fucking good, I… ah—“ You cut yourself off when he groans— really groans into you, and you feel him switch gears at the praise. He must like hearing it, how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel. While you still have the ability to talk, you keep going— anything to get him not to stop. “You feel so good, Simon. Gonna make me c— oh fuck, right there.”

You feel the stretch of two of his thick fingers, easing you open, and you know it’s out of your control. There’s an electric feeling in your stomach you don’t recognise, bordering on too much of a good thing. You almost don’t want to fall into it, but Simon, with his talented hands and mouth that’s never satiated, you wouldn’t get much of a choice. Your brain couldn’t move your legs anymore, only able to blank out and take it— take all of what Simon was so desperate to give you, and who were you not to indulge your man?

“C’mon, princess. Let me see you… just let go. Want it so bad, pretty girl.” The pet names, his tongue lapping at your sensitive nerves, his fingers curling inside of you— there was no way to avoid the plummet into overwhelming pleasure, Simons hands being the only thing holding you to the real world.

You cum with a choke of his name, and a string of indiscernible words babble out of your mouth. You hear Simon saying something, but it sounds so far off, your only focus on that feeling. He doesn’t stop, still buried inside of you as close as he can, and he doesn’t let up until your physically clawing at him, flinching away from the lap of his tongue.

You feel wrung out— like you’d just been suffocated and were slowly coming back to consciousness. It was possible you really did pass out, if you were honest. Simon was still holding you up easily, hands now holding your thighs to his shoulders, eyes wide and staring at you in fascination.

“Holy fuck, baby. That was fucking… you are so hot.” Out of breath and energy you manage to burst out laughing at his compliment, feeling yourself slowly sliding down the wall of the shower. Everything felt like jelly, but as Simon bent down to kiss you, your hand brushed against his boxers, and you tugged at them. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you now, baby?”

“Mmm.” You hum, body still twitching from the aftershocks of the biggest orgasm of your life. You tug harder at the seam of his boxers, and he kisses your forehead.

“Shh. Take a minute.” Your eyebrows furrow together, feeling a little juvenile in your fuzzy state.

“Please, Si. I’ve waited so long for this. Please, just��” You slip the fabric over his cock, already hard and waiting, and duck your hand under to stroke him gently. He swears, shuddering under your soft touch. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Turn around, princess.” He breathes, and you smile victoriously, getting another laugh out of him. “Fuckin’ insatiable.”

“Only for you.” He helps you get onto all fours, rough palms of his hands smoothing over your ass and lower back.

“Mhmm. Mine, aren’t you?” You nod, feeling him lean down to kiss your shoulder blades before you feel his cock, sliding between your legs and settling at your entrance. He gives you a second or two— it always takes you a while to adjust to the pure size of him when he gets home. You’d never say it, but you hope you never get used to it. A bit of pain with the pleasure he rings from you seems a fair trade for all the dirty things he says when he finally enters you.

You push back against him, making him hiss as a little more of his length disappears into you. He lightly smacks your ass just once and you arch into the touch. He’s never been one to throw you around, not wanting to even think about the possibility of hurting the one good thing he has in this life— but he can’t help but be memorised by the way you react when he treats you a little tougher. He does it again, and hearing your moan is apparently the last thing he needs to bottom out behind you.

You both sigh— finally feeling each other this way. There was something to be said about the first fuck when he came home. It was so much more than that. It was like something from a movie, how they called it making ‘love’. You’d always thought it one and the same— until you met Simon. He starts slow, purposeful as he drove his hips back and forth in a pace that had you feeling dizzy after just a few thrusts. He was so strong without even knowing, you had to smack your hand to the wall to keep from sliding away every-time his hips collided with yours. He hit spots inside of you you never knew you had until you met him, and it was borderline embarrassing how quickly you felt that ball of pleasure in your stomach tighten— preparing for release.

“So tight. Always t-take me so fuckin’ good. Jesus Christ.” Hearing Simon Riley stumble over his words was the ego boost of the century.

“Just like that, Si. Fuck.” You feel one of his hands sliding up higher, touching any part of you he could reach— hands brushing over your side, your tits, reaching up to tangle in your hair. When he pulls slightly it has you squeezing your eyes shut, the combination of his touch all over you making you dizzy.

He starts to come back to himself, talking constantly as he drives his hips harder and faster. Constant praises come out in a low, raspy voice, only interrupted by you chorusing them back to him. It had always been like this with him, the filter between his brain and mouth broken as soon as he got inside you, leading to a string of compliments too dirty to repeat anywhere else— but it was the hottest fucking thing in the world to you.

“C-can’t last much longer, princess. S’feels too good.” He slurs, and you look over your shoulder. His shoulders are completely relaxed, jaw slack and eyes half open, and there’s none of that stiffness from before when he came home. Now, he was in his element, not thinking about whatever went wrong on the outside— he was just here with you.

“Fuck, gonna cum, Simon— just a little m-fuck.” You didn’t have to tell him, he knows your body better than you do, and when his hand slips under your hips so that he can circle your clit in soft, quick movements, your arms drop out from under you as pleasure overwhelms you. This time, you’re pretty sure you do pass out, the only thing you can hold onto in that in-between is Simons voice.

“There it is. Fuck—yes… yes. Fuck!” He swears the whole way through as he cums, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading over your ass and lower back. You try to pick yourself up, giving him a pretty picture, but your body is so weak that you just stay right where he puts you. His free hand grips your waist, keeping the backs of your thighs pressed to the front of his.

The water was still running a warm stream over the both of you, and when Simon’s orgasm wrings out the last few jolts of pleasure, he’s just as fucked out as you are. All but collapsing over the top of you, he keeps himself up with one arm, the other wrapping underneath both your bodies. He kisses along the back of your shoulder blades, murmuring praise into your skin.

“Baby… baby. Missed you.” He repeats, and you turn your head, finding the strength to hold yourself up a little to kiss him. Once he knows your starting to come back, he switches positions, using the arm underneath you to hold you to him as he leans himself against the wall of the shower, your back tucked to his chest.

“Missed you more.” You look up, finding him staring down at you. He smiles then, and your still a little dazed but he just looks so good when he smiles— “I love you.”

“I love you.” He repeats.

It might just be the heat of what you just did mixed with the warm stream of water above you, but you swear he blushes. No matter how many times you say it to each other, he still reacts like that. You both sit in silence for a little, your body now tired and slumping against him, held up by his arms wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly.

“You scared me a little, when you came home.” You say softly, your hands tracing along his forearm. “I never know how to make it all okay— I can’t make it okay.”

“You just gotta be here. That’s all I need.” His head dips to lean down, leaning on your shoulder.

“I will be. Always.” You say, never meaning anything more. It’s been years of you knowing Simon, just a little less than that being his, but you know this is it for you. Even when you first met him, you knew you’d always be there when he came home— waiting for him.

“We… we lost some good people this time. Just makes me think.” He hugs you closer, feeling his hands splay out in your sides. “This guy got caught in the crossfire, I don’t know what happened, but I watched them tell his girlfriend. She just lost it.”

You swallow hard, hearing his voice crack.

“The boys said they found her photo in his wallet. A ring, too. Was gonna propose.”

“Jesus.” He nods, head still firmly tucked into the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had to get out, come home for a bit after this one. I don’t want… there’s so much stuff I need to do, stuff I want to tell you about, and if I didn’t make it back—“

“Don’t think like that. You’ll always come home. You promised me you would.” Your throat tightens, trying your best not to cry at a time like this. You couldn’t help it when he spoke like that.

“I know, baby. I just mean…” He takes in a long breath, then looks up, tilting your head so he could look you in the eye. “I don’t wanna leave here without you knowing how much I— that I…”

“I know.” You let your fingertips drag softly along his jaw, but he shakes his head.

“No, I… fuck— I’m sorry.” You sit up, a little worried about where this is going. His hands leave your waist, holding your face in the same gentle way he did when he came home. “It just… you deserve so much, and I want to give it to you. The whole flight over— longer than that, I’ve been thinking about asking you something. I just don’t know how.”

“You can ask me anything.” Kneeling between his legs, your hands press to his chest, feeling the racing of his heart. You lean forward, kissing him, telling him all the words you can’t fit into the moment. Whatever he takes from it seems to be enough— because as well as he knew you, you knew him too. He pulls away, and when he does, you don’t see any traces of the man people seem to fear, or hate.

You just see him.

You nearly hold your breath in anticipation, watching as his eyes flit between your mouth and your eyes.

“Simon.” You say again, and his eyes flutter closed. Then he pulls you forward, and utters two words that shift your entire world on its axis.

“Marry me.”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost mw2 #mw2 fic #cod fic #call of duty fanfic

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vampaiaz · 3 years ago

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cute hcs i have for some st characters!

warning: none! just some fluffy stuff

note: this is honestly just me kicking my legs and giggling at my own thoughts

characters: eddie munson and billy hargrove

ೃ⁀➷ EDDIE MUNSON

i honestly feel like he’d secretly like elvis, eddie’s guilty pleasure in music HELP his favorite songs would be suspicious minds, i’ll hold you in my heart, and trouble. i know pretty basic but he started liking elvis because of you! ever since you played can’t help falling love while cuddling with him in his room, he’s associated the song with the two of you

another guilty pleasure of his in music is madonna !!!! IM RIGHT IM VERY RIGHT because he’d definitely like borderline and angel, dustin would make fun of him for it and he’d just reply “it’s y/n’s music, not mine henderson.” (he actually asked for a copy of your mixtape)

he has bad penmanship but when he writes in gothic script, IT ALWAYS LOOKS GOOD ???? it annoys you because he’d make fun of you when you try it for yourself T-T but when he doesn’t tease you, he teaches you!

scared of cockroaches so he screams and asks you to kill it for him, but turns out you’re both scared so now the two of you are standing on a chair while hugging and screaming

for some reason i just think he can skip rocks really well, he’d say “watch, give me a number and that’ll be how many skips this rock makes.” and you challenge him but he always seems to win HELP

whenever he goes somewhere, even if it’s near, he always kisses you goodbye !!! he says that if he doesn’t do that then he won’t see you again, obviously dramatic, but it’s endearing. he just loves you a lot !!!

ೃ⁀➷ BILLY HARGROVE

when you and billy fight, he doesn’t get violent or break things, he leaves and gives you and him time to take a breather! when he does come back, that is when he finally organized his thoughts and is willing to tell you how he feels, why he acted that way, and what he thinks can help him. it can get repetitive, but you are happy that he’s trying to change, not only for you but for many!

he loves it when you let him lay in between your legs and you play with his hair, one time you braided it and he kept laughing. “i look stupid!” he’d say while turning his head left and right to see his hair move

i feel like he’d be the type to keep small flowers in a notebook, y’know like the dried out flowers pasted onto pages. he gives it to you and you see he added in notes of why he picked those flowers T-T (bringing my nature lover!billy on here)

LOVES DOGS oh definitely, he’d sometimes go on a tangent, telling you that he’d love to live in a home with his loving family and a big dog, obviously you’re the his partner

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader fluff #billy hargrove fluff

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iwritetopassthetime · 2 years ago

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home to you (7/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER SIX: If You Love Someone... // Previous chapter // Masterlist // Next chapter

Wordcount: 8.9K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: themes of abuse/domestic violence, angst, discussions of deployment, everybody needs a Penny and an Amelia, eventual smut (oral (f) and p in v sex), let me know if I've missed anything

There were many sounds out there that one might call soothing.

The pitter-patter of rain against the ground or a window. The waves of the ocean crashing against one another. The soft crackling of a fire. The tweeting of birds and chipper of crickets. A baby laughing.

To you, there was no sound better, or more relaxing than the sound of Bradley’s heart beating in his chest, your ear pressed so close that you could feel your own heart matching its pace.

And right at that moment you needed plenty of soothing.

Laying in bed with Bradley, your head on his chest and his arms protectively wrapped around you as the clock ticked closer and closer to the moment he’ll have to leave. Neither of you could find sleep so you just laid there, silent and unmoving.

You didn’t cry, your tear ducts had dried out on the car ride home after sharing your deepest, most well-guarded secrets with the man currently holding you like you meant the world to him. It felt cathartic, finally letting him know what had happened to you and laying yourself bare for him to know you fully, to know every aspect of you. And Bradley — sweet, wonderful Bradley who brushed your tears away and assured you just how proud of you he was — didn’t shy away from all that. You’d half expected him to run for the hills, to see that you were too much to handle, too much of a bother with all that baggage. But he charged like a mountain ram, meeting your pain head on and splintering it to shreds until it became a distant memory.

You swore you felt lighter after you’d told him. A heavy load had been finally lifted from your shoulders and it was like a door opened for you, offering you a chance to finally move on from the painful past. You’d held the key for a long time, but Bradley was the one to hold your shaking hand as you turned it into the keyhole and finally pass through the threshold.

And now he was leaving. For how long you weren’t sure and neither did he.

Just as you were ready to let yourself be happy and tell him how much he meant to you. Tell him that you’d fallen in love with him and were ready to find happiness with him on the other side of that aforementioned door.

The words you wished to speak had filled your mouth, begging to be let loose. Yet you held them back for as long as you could. You didn’t think it would be wise to dump your feelings on him just as he was leaving, put his mind off of the task ahead.

Bradley couldn’t tell you where he was going or what the specifics of the mission were. He didn’t fully know himself, apparently they would be briefed on base before being deployed. You didn’t like the uncertainty in his eyes and you chose not to press on. You just hoped he would get back safe. That he’d come home to you.

‘I hate to leave you right now,’ Bradley whispered into the quiet.

You slowly turned your head up to gaze at him with furrowed brows.

‘Bradley, this is… work-related,’ you uttered against his chest. ‘If I can even call it that. And even if you could stay behind, I wouldn’t want you to. This is obviously more important.’

Bradley sighed. He leaned his head back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. ‘Nothing's more important... I would stay if I had the chance.’

‘I know.’

You smiled a little and tugged gently on the dog tags around his neck, drawing his attention back down.

‘Just promise me you’re not going off to bomb some innocent country that just so happens to have vast amounts of oil in it for Uncle Sam’s profit.’

He chuckled at your words, his arm pulling you closer so he could kiss the top of your head. ‘I promise I’m not. I think… it might be connected to the previous mission we went to. I cannot speculate and like I said—’

‘You can’t tell me more,’ you finished for him. ‘I understand.’

You felt him nod against the crown of your head before leaning back down, returning to the position his body was a moment ago.

You breathed in deeply, trying to get your brain to retain the scent of Bradley’s cologne. That strong musk that reminded you of a pinewood forest in the rain. If you could keep that locked away in a box in your head, maybe the unknown amount of time away from him would pass quickly.

Bradley’s alarm went off not long after. A shrill bell that signified that the quiet comfort you both shared through the night was over and he would have to leave.

You squeezed Bradley tighter, shutting your eyes as if the action would somehow keep him with you for just a few more minutes. Just a couple more.

But you had to let him go.

Bradley got up from the bed, letting go of you entirely, with a groan. He cracked his back as he stood up to get his duffle bag and a fresh change of clothes. He neatly folded them at the foot of the bed, each article of clothing following a simple order: a black T-shirt, a pair of faded jeans, a brown belt and rolled up dark grey socks.

He walked back up to the headboard and leaned down to peck you on the forehead before making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

He spent no more than five minutes in there, the sound of the water running filling your room with a soft murmur that was thunderous compared to the silence that preceded it. But that noise gave you a moment to collect yourself.

How rude and selfish would it be to start crying again? You stopped yourself from falling further into that rabbit hole, instead huffing in indignation at yourself as you rose up and dressed as well.

You walked pass the chair where you had draped your peach summer dress mere hours ago. Your sandals were laying about near the chair’s legs where you had kicked them off, the laces crumpled together in a knot. You took a pair of loose jeans and a short sleeved shirt that rested a little baggy on your shoulders but you preferred it that way.

The dress from the night before had been a daring move on your part and you were quite proud of yourself for finding the confidence to wear it. You recalled Bradley’s eyes lighting up when you showed it off to him and that only seemed to boost that sudden surge of boldness.

Bradley pattered out of the bathroom, his gilded curls looking more bronze as water dripped from them onto his wide shoulders. A towel hung low on his hips and he held it with one hand. A trail of pale blonde hair that started at his belly button disappeared below the white flannel and you had to look away as to not gawk at his astonishing physique.

There were moments when you honestly wondered if he wasn’t made in a lab where they meticulously measured each part of his body with a ruler to make it look like that of a Roman statue. He was just so… perfect.

Your face heated up as you turned back around and stepped towards him, letting him know that you were going to quickly brush your teeth and go downstairs to make coffee. He gave you a smile in response before you were hurrying off to the en-suite to get ready for the day.

You finished your morning routine without any further delay, fully aware that time was of the essence here. You splashed your warmed up face with some water, trying to erase the image of a wet Bradley with nothing but a flimsy towel on. Had you had more time…

You brushed your teeth and checked yourself in the mirror, giving yourself thumbs up through the reflective glass for encouragement. You were going to take this whole guy-you-very-well-may-be-in-love-with-being-suddenly-deployed-to-who-knows-where situation on the chin. Frankie was probably having to deal with the same thing right about now and she wouldn’t fuss or cry about it. When in doubt, think like Frankie, you told yourself with a tiny smile.

You can do this.

You knocked on the door separating you from the bedroom to let Bradley know that you were coming out. You didn’t want to accidentally walk in on him, ass out and everything (even if the thought alone was wildly exciting). You hurried towards the door only catching a sight of Bradley’s bare back facing you.

He followed a couple of minutes later, freshly showered and dressed. His damp hair was combed back into neat curls. He rounded the island and came to stand before you, giving you a tired smile as you handed him a cup of coffee with two sugars, his occasional preference coffee.

‘Has Mav come downstairs yet?’ He asked over the rim of the cup.

‘Not yet,’ you replied. ‘But I heard movement from his and Penny’s room so I suppose he’ll be down in a second.’

Bradley nodded and put a hand over his mouth to cover his yawn. You felt bad about him; you knew he liked his rest and he hadn’t had as much as a quick nap during the night. You hoped that the coffee would give him a little boost, if only until he could catch a few winks later when he had the time.

Bradley lifted an arm, beckoning you to his side, and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest.

And there was that wonderful sound again, his slow and steady heartbeat.

You sighed into the warmth his body provided, already missing it. You focused your attention on those small silvery plates that rested on top of his T-shirt, contrasting the dark cotton material.

Bradley’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he used one hand to pull it out and check what the notification was whilst still holding you.

‘Phoenix says Frankie will come pick Mav and I in thirty minutes,’ he told you softly.

‘Okay.’

You closed your eyes and willed the time to slow down so those thirty minutes you had with Bradley wouldn’t seem as short as you feared they would.

Mav was in the kitchen within the next few minutes, fully dressed with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He offered a brief good morning to you both, his voice sounding hoarse and tense. You separated from Bradley, but stood close to him. You reached for the coffee pot, pouring additional two cups and giving him one. Penny came in soon after, just as pensive as you assumed you looked at the moment.

Time didn’t seem to listen and those thirty minutes felt more like three. Frankie texted Bradley that she was outside and the two pilots were ready to go.

Penny offered you a reassuring pat on the shoulder as her and Maverick walked down the short driveway to Frankie’s red Subaru. Bradley stood next to you on the front porch, staring ahead as his jaw moved as if he wanted to say something.

You twiddled and cracked your fingers, unsure if you should take the responsibility of speaking. What was there to say really? You didn’t think you would be able to say anything that might be useful at the moment.

Bradley noticed your hands and placed his palm over them, ceasing your anxious fiddling.

‘I- I hope you have fun while I’m gone.’

You snorted, ‘I doubt it, but I will try my best.’

Bradley took a small step towards you. ‘I’m sure you will have plenty. Penny, Amelia… Frankie is probably staying in town as well. Just don’t- don’t worry and stress about me.’

‘That’s easier said than done.’

‘I will make sure not to do anything stupid or dangerous,’ he joked lightly.

‘Isn’t that half of what your job entails?’

Bradley smirked, ‘Yeah, yeah…’

Then he looked down at you and at that precise moment you were sure of one only thing: you absolutely loved Bradley Bradshaw. You took the final step that removed the small gap between your two bodies and kissed him. Your hands slowly reached up and held his face to yours, savouring those last fleeting seconds.

Bradley held you around the small of your back, clutching a little at the bottom of your shirt. His lips moved lazily against yours and he tasted of mint toothpaste and coffee. Your eyes started filling with tears behind your close lids, but you heroically held them back as any show of just how much it pained you that he was leaving would’ve been wrong at that moment.

‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he promised when your lips separated and he pressed his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll be counting on it,’ you replied even quieter. Your hands smoothed over the short sleeves of his shirts, moving down to hold his hands and you gave them a last squeeze to let him now it was time. The action was meant to reassure him, but you were also reassuring yourself. He will be back soon, you just had to hope for the best and make sure that he knew you knew.

It was nighttime again before you actually realised it and it would’ve been fine if not for your brain’s adamant refusal to switch off.

You were laying on your back in bed, on the pillow Bradley used, staring at the ceiling and trying anything that could knock you out. Counting fucking sheep should’ve helped an hour ago. But the day kept repeating over and over in your mind like a video on a loop.

Standing on the front porch with a sombre-looking Penny as the two of you watched Frankie’s car drive down the road and disappear after the first intersection. Neither of you had wished to voice just how sudden and painful saying goodbye to Mav and Bradley felt at that moment and neither of you did.

Penny had simply wrapped an arm about you and stood silently for another few minutes before taking a deep breath and ushering you inside. You’d been about to head upstairs (to do fun stuff like wallow in self-pity) when she’d stopped you and brought you back into the kitchen so the two of you could finish your coffees.

She could see you were upset; honestly, you doubted your abilities to hide just how saddened you were that not only had you experienced something very emotionally-taxing the previous night, but you also had to watch the man you loved walk out of the front door, not knowing when he’ll be back.

After finishing a quick breakfast, Penny had told you she’d go upstairs to wake up Amelia and break the news to her. You heart had given a painful squeeze at the realisation that Amelia hadn’t had the chance to send off Mav and Bradley. In the meantime, Penny had asked you to put out the plans for the garden on the island so the two of you could get started on that before you had to go to work at the bar.

In hindsight, she was right to occupy your entire day with schematics and laying down the first dig. That precious moment of breaking the soil and making adjustments to the arrangement of all garden elements that reminded you so much of the job you loved.

Amelia had jumped at the opportunity to help. You’d tasked her with marking the outlines of the picnic deck. For a moment you had worried that handing her wooden pegs and a hammer was not the wisest decision, you had been more okay with letting her roll out the blue thread that would connect the four corners, but she handled it all like a champ.

Amelia had followed your measurements to the T, put the pegs in the soft ground with little to no effort and finished the job in a shorter amount of time than you or Penny expected.

The three of you had taken lunch outside as the weather was particularly sunny and warm. Sunglasses hung on your noses as you ate take out ramen and talked of everything but the elephant in the room. Even Amelia, who loved so much to break awkward topics open and charge at any situation with the confidence of a Wall Street banker, could see that now wasn’t the time.

After lunch it was back to working on the garden; Penny and Amelia followed your instructions as you began to turn over the hardened soil in the empty flower beds and pour the fertiliser you’d picked up at the store the previous day. And before you knew it, it was time to head to the Hard Deck with Penny.

It was an unnaturally quiet Saturday. You served mainly regulars, one or two groups of Top Gun personnel on a night out, and nothing much happened. Penny had decided to close early, saying there was no point in keeping the bar open till 2 o’clock in the morning. So you had helped restocking the near full bar, cleaning the practically spotless counters and tables, and doing anything that would keep you from thinking about anything else but, why the hell would someone use their bubblegum to stick a shot glass to table 12?

Thus you found yourself, nearly nineteen hours since Bradley left, unable to sleep because he was all you could think about. All you worried about. Had he gotten some sleep? Did he have a bite to eat — he didn’t like skipping breakfast.

You tossed in bed as the scent of Bradley’s shampoo on the pillowcase cocooned you in this moment that just wouldn’t fucking end. You huffed in desperation and angry tears gathered at your lashes. And on top of all that, your back was starting to hurt.

After deciding to give up on falling asleep for the time being, you rolled out of bed and opened the bedside table drawer pulling out the Tylenol you’d left there days ago. You popped a pill in your mouth and wandered out of the room, pattering down the corridor which led you right in front of the master bedroom, Penny’s bedroom.

Before you could let that voice in your head that was in charge of overthinking and self-deprecation, you reached up and rapped your knuckles against the door. You waited for Penny’s response from inside and only when it came were you brave enough to actually push the door open.

‘Hey, Blossom.’ Penny’s smile was an instant comfort. She was sitting against the headboard with her reading glasses perched on her nose and a book in her hands.

This was the first time you were in her room and you realised just how meticulously Penny had designed her entire house to be the literal representation of comfort. Every colour served a purpose and that was to put you at ease. From the soft off-white carpet to the decorative blue cushions she was leaning against, everything reminded you of a quiet day at the beach — sand between your toes and sea foam brushing against your face.

You hung at the entrance to her room, unsure if you weren’t actually interrupting her peace after a busy and heavily emotional day.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ you mumbled. ‘Mind if I keep you company for a little bit?’

‘Not at all, sweetie.’ Penny’s gentle smile shooed away some of your anxiety. She lifted the duvet, welcoming you to sit on her side.

You settled on the bed just as Penny dropped her book onto the bedside table and removed her reading glasses.

‘I hope you don’t think I pushed you too hard today.’

You shook your head. ‘No, I actually enjoyed it. We got some good work done in the backyard.’

‘I just…’ she paused with a tense look in her eyes. ‘I’ve done this before. Sending someone off on a deployment. It’s better to keep busy than to sit down and think of all the things that might go wrong.’

You knew she spoke not only of Maverick, but her own father who you briefly knew as a child. Admiral Benjamin was a complete opposite of Mav and even Bradley. They had some lightness to them while he was a hard, unemotional man who never smiled.

At least that’s how you remembered him, only being a child when you saw him last. He never seemed to care much for your presence around him so you stayed away. You mum and Penny were all you cared to have around you at that age.

‘Trust me… once you actually get past those first few days, you’ll see that time passes much quicker,’ she explained. ‘It sucks, but it’s the price we pay for loving people like Maverick and Bradley.’

You stared at her, a reply ready at your lips — a quip about men in the military, a question as to how the hell did she knew of your feelings — when the door opened again. Amelia stood there, a little surprised to see you here, but quickly moved pass that. She didn’t wait another second before she hustled across the room and sat on her mother’s other side.

Penny chuckled softly as she lifted an arm to let her daughter snuggle up to her. ‘Can’t sleep either?’

Amelia shook her head no. ‘Kept thinking about Mav and Bradley.’

‘They’ll be fine,’ Penny told her. ‘You know that. They’re very capable pilots and this might not be as serious as we all think.’

‘Yeah, but still…’ Amelia sighed heavily then looked to you. ‘Was your date at least nice?’

‘It was wonderful,’ you replied with a gladness that came from changing the subject. ‘Thank you for giving Bradley a hand with the picnic. I was really sad to have to put all of it away this morning. It seemed like you made quite an effort.’

‘Oh, it was all Bradley. He really loves you,’ she said that as if it was as simple as remarking on the weather. You felt your face heat up as you stared down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. ‘He told you, right?’

When you didn’t respond, she groaned.

‘Why is he so stupid!’

‘Amelia,’ Penny gently warned.

‘No, ‘cause you two are so obviously smitten with each other and I don’t get it! Why don’t you just go for it?’

You stayed silent for a moment as you processed her words, already in agreement with Amelia even if you wanted to deny it. You found it funny how a fourteen-year-old had a better understanding of your situation than you yourself. But that was Amelia; you were sure that she’ll manage to get herself elected as president before the age of 30, if she wanted to.

The plain truth was that, yes, you loved Bradley. You couldn’t pin point the exact moment you got slapped with all those feeling, or if it was entirely appropriate. Part of you was worried that you were just projecting, looking for signs where there were none. But you felt it all when Bradley held you, kissed you, spoke to you. The care and affection he showed you went beyond what he did for Amelia, or Penny, or any other female friend in his life.

So the only issue in your path was your own fear. The fear that after everything that had happened to you, it really was suspicious that suddenly things would go all right. Why didn’t they earlier? Why now? Why would a guy like Bradley want you, he could have anyone he wanted.

‘I just… I don’t see why he would want me,’ you admitted softly, almost scared to. ‘I’ve got a lot of baggage.’

‘All people have some kind of baggage,’ Penny interjected. ‘That doesn’t make them unloveable.’

‘Yes, but what if I’m an exception?’

‘Then Bradley is being a love-sick idiot for nothing. Do you — in your heart, Blossom — think that he’s wasting his love on you?’

You furiously shook your head, your throat suddenly blocked by an outpour of emotion. No, you certainly didn’t think Bradley was wasting his love. Especially not on you. You didn’t think you’d make such an improvement over the time you spent in this house if you didn’t spend each morning with him.

He gave you his time and attention like he had plenty to give. He held you like you were precious to him and you had begun to believe it to. He was slowly putting you back together, making you feel alive again.

He wasn’t wasting his love. You only hoped yours would be enough for him.

Penny could see that the cogs were turning in your head and decided to leave those conversations for a later date. She was completely confident in your ability to soft out your feelings and if you needed help she’d be there. But now, the three of you were were in need of some major diversion to help you sleep through the night.

‘How about we watch a movie?’ Amelia grinned at her mother’s suggestion. She passed her the remote to the small flat screen TV she had mounted on the opposite wall. ‘You’ve got Mail or Moonstruck?’

The next morning you woke up late, still in Penny’s bed where you had dosed off the night before. You were on her left while Amelia was on her right and wrapped around her mother’s waist like a koala bear.

You quietly slipped out of the bed and made your way to your bathroom, raring for a good shower. You had woken up a little lighter and somewhat happier this morning, so you wanted to do something nice for Penny and Amelia. As soon as you were finished lathering your body with the citrusy body wash, brushing through your damp hair and wrapping it up in a towel, you dressed and descended the stairs for the kitchen.

You pulled various ingredients for Penny and Amelia’s usual breakfast meals and started up the coffee pot for the morning brew. You hummed to yourself as you hurried about the kitchen, pulling cupboards open and looking for the right stuff.

No matter how many times you looked, you’d always end up amazed by the sheer diversity of ingredients in Penny’s kitchen. You could make practically everything with the things she stocked her pantry with. Which is understandable, seeing as she’d grown all around the world due to her father’s job and had eaten everything under the sun.

You had three açai bowls in the fridge to rest by the time you sat down on the porch with your own coffee, waiting for mother and daughter to wake up. You watched the sun rise higher and higher behind a thick layer of grey-ish clouds as surfers began to flock to the beach with their boards under arm. The wind blew a little harder and the waves were higher than what was normal. You supposed that for the surfers down there it was ideal.

You were glad that you wouldn’t have to worry about overheating if you wanted to get some good work done on the garden today. You wanted to start planting some of the smaller plants, like the California wild rose you got from that nursery garden you went to with Bradley.

‘You know this is a very useful flower,’ you told him when examining the leaves of the plant, checking for any abnormalities or signs of diseases. Thankfully, you could rest easy that they were taking care of their flora in this place because the rose seemed to be well taken care of — soil was moderately damp and you could see that the bush had been regularly trimmed to keep its steady and healthy growth.

Bradley leaned over your shoulder and tried to see what you were seeing, but failed as he had no clue why you were fondling a leaf like that. ‘How so?’

‘Well, the wild rose is quite sturdy,’ you began to explain, ‘it can grow in most gardens but always prefers being close to a water source. And in winter,’ you turned up to face him as you excitedly shared the information, ‘the flowers turn into rose hip that you can either eat raw or dry to make tea of. It’s very healthy, contains a lot of vitamin C.’

‘Cool!’ Bradley grinned and his eyes shined like you’d just discovered a new plant species. ‘So you want to get this for the backyard?’

‘Yeah, well, a shrub like this would attract plenty of bees that could pollinate other plants. It’ll be very easy to take care of… a few bushes will spread out as the plant settles in the new soil.’ You leaned down to check the small price sign and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Aaaand it would fit the budget Pen has given me. Nice!’

Bradley had had a few more questions about the plants, really curious about different things around the nursery garden. You had been happily surprised by his enthusiasm about your work and his line of questioning had made you believe that he actually cared to know the answer.

You missed having your coffee on the back porch with Bradley but you just had to push through however long it would take him to come home, and you would have that again. Those peaceful moments spent, sharing timid glances over the rim of your cup and feeling your face heat up when he looked back at you. Gosh, you should’ve told him earlier how you felt. You from three years ago would’ve opened up about her feelings the moment she felt the first thrill of romance. You wish you could’ve done that but after one final thought you were proud of your decision not to tell Bradley yet. Even if it pissed of Amelia.

The time you had apart would be healthy in a way — it could either make or break any type of relationship and could make you certain that what you felt for Bradley was real. And you’d agreed to move at a slow pace so maybe fate was giving you this time as a way to rationalise your emotions and see a way through.

With a sigh and a final stretch, you got up to leave your now empty cup in the sink and get to work.

Over the next week, six days and nearly fourteen hours, the backyard slowly but steadily began to transform from a sad, little square of bare land to a tiny oasis within the confines of the city.

The four wild rose shrubs were planted in the four corners of the yard, giving them enough space from other flowers as to not unintentionally overtake soil nutrients, sunlight or even outwards appearance. You’d acquired flowers that could match the colours of the sunset that this space had a good view of: orange lilies, blue and purple irises, snapdragons and some more.

The change of soil and the new fertiliser seemed to agree with the plant life already inhabiting the backyard, because many of the flower beds were filled with short stems of clover almost overnight. You were glad to see the positive reaction of the environment to this sudden change. Clover in any garden was a positive sign; it provided useful nutrients to other plants which meant you could pack up the fertiliser and store it in the small shed on the side of the house.

Penny had called in a favour with Jimmy, one of her employees at the bar, to come and help with some of the heavy lifting. You had directed him to lacquering and painting over the finished picnic deck while you and Amelia had reorganised the loose stone trimmings to the flower beds into neater curves.

Now, on the afternoon of the thirteenth day since starting the work on the garden, you were sitting on a blanket in the grass near the old rosemary bush, giving it a much needed trim. A smile was plastered on your face as you quietly talked to the plant.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ you chirped. ‘We’ll cut out those old branches to help you grow!’

You rubbed the elongated leaves between two gloved fingers and brought them to your nose, taking a whiff. You were definitely going to collect some strands to dry; if anything, once Mav and Bradley were back you could have another backyard barbecue and use some of the fragrant herb to marinate the meat better.

Amelia and Penny were out of the house, on a short trip with Penny’s boat. You never felt particularly steady on one so you declined their offer to join, opting to stay behind and put the final touches to the backyard. Your phone was near your folded legs, a Spotify playlist playing your favourite tunes as you continued with your work.

You were digging your hands in the bush, trying to reach the thick stem and some of the more obscured dead branches. You were surrounded by the scent of rosemary and did not hear the backyard door opening again.

If it was Penny, she didn’t announce her presence. If it was Amelia, she was probably trying to spook you. You pulled the upper half of your body out of the bush and turned about on the ground only to find yourself face-to-knees with Bradley who stood a few paces away from you, dressed in his khaki uniform. When you slowly lifted your eyes you found him looking down at you with a tiny grin curling his moustache.

He drew closer and kneeled on the edge of the blanket. You were still processing the fact that he was in front of you to make any coherent response.

‘Hey, Blossom.’

You didn’t care that you still had your gardening gloves on, that you were probably sticking of dirt and a mixture of herbs and pollen, you wanted to kiss this man. You jumped up, half crawling, half throwing yourself at Bradley, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. You snuggled you face against his neck, breathing in the only scent that seemed to matter most to you.

Tears of joy began to overflow in your eyes and you let them drip onto Bradley’s shoulder. He moved both of you so it was him sitting on the blanket with you partially sitting in his lap. You pulled back to look into his eyes, to really see and feel that he was there. Two pools of hot pine sap stared back at you as he repeated your name, drawing your attention to his lips.

You clawed the gloves off of your hands behind Bradley’s head and moved them back to the front of his head to skim your fingertips along his lips. His breath tickled the skin underneath your fingernails and with a final whisper of your name, Bradley severed the distance between your faces to capture your own lips in his.

Your hand moved along his jaw, feeling its way towards the back of his neck where one of his soft spots were. You buried your fingers in the slightly longer curls at the nape, pulling them gently and making Bradley gasped into your mouth. His tongue licked along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let it and you wasted no time in responding to his plea.

His hands in turn explored your body, felt around your back, your hips, you ass. He pulled your legs apart so you were fully straddling him and leaned back down on the ground, drawing you with him. You settled yourself on top of him, mouth never leaving his, loathe to part from him for even a moment more.

It was at that moment that your internal debates were finally concluded, jury was out and you had your final verdict. The distance didn’t put a damper on your feelings for Bradley, it didn’t kill that thrill of being held and kissed by him. Even if it scared you to finally voice those feelings, it scared you even more to spend another second without this man, without him knowing just how much he truly meant to you.

‘I love you.’

Your whisper was somehow muted against his mouth so you lifted your face, putting the smallest distance between your lips. Bradley’s eyes told a different story; the rosemary bush cast a colourful shade across his face but his eyes were alight. His mouth moved mutely, his pupils dilated as he stared back at you in astonishment.

‘I— Fuck, I wanted to say that first.’ You laughed softly at his slightly petulant tone and caressed his face. ‘I love you, too. I love you so much, Blossom.’

‘I know.’ Your voice shook as a new wave of tears filled your eyes. Bradley held your waist with his left hand and your face with his right, keeping you where he could just stare into your eyes.

‘I wanted to tell you at the date,’ he admitted and you swallowed a gasp. You recalled the sudden nervousness when you danced next to the Bronco. Elton John’s singing carrying through the air and making that moment extremely romantic. You assumed he wanted to tell you something serious, but didn’t imagine it would be a declaration of love.

He loves you, he loves you, you mind chanted as you lowered your lips on his again.

Your hips moved atop of his, finding the bulge of his hardening cock inside his trousers and rolling your body against it. Bradley groaned against your lips, hands coming down to grip your hips and grind them onto his abdomen with a little more force. And the thrills you felt at that were exhilarating.

You could feel yourself grow wet underneath the soft cotton short you wore. The material most likely did not hide it well enough because as Bradley reached with his fingers over the roundness of your ass and skimmed over your clothes pussy, he groaned again at the feel of the damp material.

‘Fuck, baby.’ He threw his head back, but kept on guiding your hips to roll against his cock. He looked around the backyard, then towards the quiet house behind the two of you and asked, ‘Do you think anyone can see us from here?’

You glanced up, noting that you were partially obscured by the rosemary bush and could only be seen from the back porch. You looked back down at Bradley, shaking your head.

‘Mav is still on base for another hour or two,’ he told you, fingers skimming under your T-shirt.

‘Pen and Amelia are on a boat trip.’

‘Good,’ Bradley breathed and captured your lips in his again, dragging your T-shirt over your chest and separating from you long enough to fling it off you body. You didn’t care where the fabric landed and only concerned yourself with undoing the top buttons of Bradley’s shirt. You pulled the fabric out of his belted trousers and pushed it off of his shoulders, leaving him in his white undershirt. You liked how it looked on him, the lack of sleeves showing off his toned arms and wide shoulders.

Bradley wrapped his arms behind your back, unhooking your bra, before doing away with his top garments. He drew you close, one arm at the back of your neck and kissed you deeper than before, rolling both of you over on top of the blanket. He trailed his lips down to your breasts, greedily sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers pinched at the other one.

You bit the back of your hand as to not make any noise and he lifted his head. ‘Don’t do that. I need to hear you, Blossom.’

‘Mhmm,’ you nodded, looking at him through hooded eyes. He returned to giving attention to your breasts, alternating between kissing and sucking on one and fondling the other. It was as if he hated to leave either unattended.

‘You love me,’ he stated, still in disbelief that could only rival yours.

‘And you love me,’ you whimpered when he pressed one final kiss in the valley between your breasts, his hands trailing down to grasp the hem of your shorts and panties together.

‘I love you,’ he said reverently.

‘I love you, too.’

Bradley silently asked you to lift up your butt so he could finally pull down the last pieces of clothing from your body, leaving you completely bare for his adoring gaze. And he truly seemed to look at you as if you were everything he wanted and needed in one.

You reached for the buckle of his belt, trying to pull it off in a hurry. Bradley noticed your impatience and stilled your hands, chuckling warmly at your slightly put off face.

‘I’ll take them off, baby. Let me take care of you, okay?’

You nodded again. Bradley pulled the belt from its loops, his trousers slacking against his muscular legs. You wrapped your legs higher on his waist and drew him back down, desperate to have his lips on yours.

Kissing anyone had never felt as good as it did when Bradley kissed you.

Bradley worked his trousers, then his briefs, down his legs, kicking them off one leg at the time, along with his shoes and socks. He wiggled against you in place as he attempted all that while also having his mouth firmly placed on yours which made you burst out laughing. You let out a snort at his overly dramatic pout.

‘You find me funny, baby?’ He murmured, lowering his face against your neck and leaving slow, wet kisses along your skin.

Your giggles died down as a train of breathy moans rolled past your lips when he sucked a hickey into your neck. You were suddenly and incomprehensibly desperate to have him mark you, leave love bites all over your neck and breasts.

You wanted all of your ruined or missed out first’s to begin with him.

Bradley’s tongue darted out of his mouth, leaving a continuous stripe down the middle of your chest and even further down (his eyes were on your almost constantly) as he moved down your body.

‘God, I’ve missed her, too.’ He said almost lovingly as he parted your legs further, resting your thighs on his shoulders. You would’ve laughed if his face wasn’t mere inches from your soaking wet pussy and you weren’t as turned on by the way he gently, but firmly handled your body and seemed to care for your pleasure first and foremost.

‘Can I eat you out, Blossom? I’ve thought about it so much over the past two weeks,’ Bradley admits, rubbing his hands into the skin of your inner thighs. ‘Had to lock myself in a janitor’s closet and fuck my fists to get some relief.’

You whimpered when the mental image hit you; Bradley, with his trousers pooled around his ankles as sweat dripped down his forehead in a stuffy closet, his hand moving up and down his length (which you still hadn’t fully seen but had felt pressed against your core on several occasions now).

‘Yes! Yes, please, Bradley. I need it,’ you sobbed and lifted your hips a little, trying to spur him into moving closer, but he stayed put. His arms held your hips down as he lowered his mouth onto your aching core.

‘Ah!’ you gasped and your hands seemed to have lost all coordination because you were grabbing the sheet, your breast, your hair, his hair, anything. Your eyes were rolling back at the sudden and intense pleasure. Your fingers finally found perch in Bradley’s curls, tugging at their ends which made him groan against you.

He was eating you like he’d eaten nothing over those two weeks, like he’d starved himself just so he could then feast on you. And feast he did; Bradley didn’t pull away from your weeping cunt for a second, alternating between sucking on your clit and playfully grazing his teeth so it intensified the pleasure, and lowering his mouth to your entrance to which he gave attention with either tongue or fingers. His long thick digits slithered over your thighs, opening you up to him, before two of them were plunging deep within you, pumping slowly and scissoring you.

Your whimpers grew in intensity, but you were still anxious to alert anyone in the area of your Dionysian display. But something about the carnality and spontaneity of the act made it all the more precious to you. Bradley didn’t second guess himself, he wanted you and he showed it. As did you.

‘Bra— ah! — Bradley,’ you gasped out his name, lightly tapping on the top of his head to draw his attention away from your cunt. You could sense the nearing to that wonderful pinnacle of pleasure, but didn’t want to finish before feeling Bradley inside of you.

‘Please,’ you begged softly. ‘I need you.’

He did not waste another second on deliberation. He reached for his crumpled trousers on the grass next to your blanket and fished into the back pockets to get his wallet. From one of the compartments, he pulled out a silvery packet.

You cocked an eyebrow. ‘You seem well prepared.’

‘Well, Mav once told me that any self-respecting man carried a condom in his wallet,’ Bradley explained as he sat up, leaning back on the balls of his feel as your thighs were still perched on his hips. The position gave you the chance to finally and fully observe Bradley’s cock… and you needed a deep, calming breath to keep it together.

It wasn’t that he was frighteningly enormous. He was long and girthy, exactly how you had imagined it. And even more impressive now that Bradley’s large hands were rolling the condom onto his length, lazily pumping up and down

‘I must admit,’ Bradley said and drew your attention back to his eyes. ‘I was hoping me might— I hope you don’t think I was expecting this or anything.’

You reached you to grab his face and pull him down, catching his mouth in yours and moving it slowly against his as Bradley positioned himself better between your open legs.

‘I want this,’ you confirmed as to give him peace of mind. You wanted this. You wanted him. You had never been more sure of anything in your life.

You looked up at him, pleadingly. ‘Just be gentle, okay? I haven’t done this in a while.’

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead, instantly lifting all your worries.

The head of his cock pushed up against your core and Bradley rocked back and forth, gliding his shaft along your slit, lathering himself in your wetness. He gently lifted his hips — he wrapped his arms around you and you yours around him —the head pressed against your entrance and with one final push he was inside you.

The stretch came with a pinch, but was pleasurable nonetheless. You locked your ankles at the small of Bradley’s back and hazily looked up to find him looking down at you, his eyes worriedly examining the feelings in yours.

‘It doesn’t hurt,’ you promised, leaving a soft peck against his top lip. The tenseness in Bradley’s limbs dissipated little by little as he plunged his cock further inside you, the head grinding against that pleasure-intensifying spot that his fingers had only skimmed over before. You sighed as your eyes fluttered shut and head fell back onto the blanket.

Bradley slowly kissed along your jaw, drawing a line down across your throat to your right shoulder. You lifted your head just enough as to press your lips against his temple. Bradley sighed against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder as you threaded your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and rubbed soothing circles into his scalp.

‘Fuck,’ he let out a long-drawn out groan which was then followed by a whimper of your name and a shallow thrust of his hips that had you clenching around Bradley’s length. That only seemed to give him more of that intense, gratifying feeling and he rocked his hips again, slowly but firmly. Your soft sighs soon turned to a litany of high-pitched moans of ah, and oh, and oh, Bradley, and I love it, and I love you.

Bradley lifted his head off of your shoulder only to rest his forehead on yours as his movements picked up in speed. The sounds of skin slapping against skin grew loud enough to join both your sounds of pleasure. Bradley’s eyebrows were furrowed and mouth slightly agape as far as you could see. You held his face close to yours, one of your hands moving around his head to clutch the curls at the nape of his beck.

‘I— fuck, I love you, Blossom,’ Bradley groaned and gently snapped his hips against yours, reaching some place within you that just made you wail in pleasure. You swore you saw stars in broad daylight. Your body shook with the intensity of your nearing climax, the pressure building at the pit of your stomach.

Bradley’s movements did not falter for a second. He kept on moving against you, inside you, and anywhere as long as it was with you. His hands wandered across your naked body, one of them settling on your right hip as he slightly changed his angle. His thrusts grew faster and faster, until his cock was pumping in and out of you and so deep that you thought he’d just stay inside you forever.

Oh, how you wished he would!

‘Bradley, I’m— oh, Bradley! Yes, yes, yes!’ You cried, forehead still firmly pressed against his. Bradley’s lips quickly moved down to capture yours and swallow your moans. ‘Please, ohmygoditfeelssogood!’

‘That’s right, baby,’ Bradley praised. ‘That’s right. Can you come just like that? Without me touching you, without rubbing your clit. Can you come on my cock, beautiful?’

‘Oh, yes! Yes! Yes,’ you chanted, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

One, two, three. His cock kept pumping inside of you, Bradley’s legs shaking with his own building pleasure.

He spoke into the tiny space between your faces, he praised you. Repeated his words of love like a mantra.

The pressure in your abdomen grew and grew, you were climbing higher and higher. Until it felt like you were being split between sky and earth, held together only by Bradley who still moved inside you as you rode on the crest of your orgasm.

Bradley’s hips stuttered when you clenched tightly around his cock and he spilled inside the condom. A fucked-out, very base part in your brain was desperate for the lack of that latex barrier, for him to come deep inside you and stay there until you felt so full that you were going to burst. But you reasoned with yourself; there was no need to jump so far yet.

Bradley didn’t pull out immediately, but relaxed his body against yours. His head was tucked in the junction of your neck while his lips peppered your skin with sweet kisses. His hands still held your hips and his fingers rubbed soothing circles into the soft flesh. Both your sweaty bodies were joined together in more than one ways and you were loathe to part from him any time soon. And so did Bradley as it seemed.

‘We’re really bad at this “taking it slow” business,’ he joked softly against your neck.

You laughed and Bradley lifted his head to gaze lovingly down at you, a shit-eating grin plastered on his won face.

‘I don’t think either of us would’ve lasted much longer,’ you admitted and Bradley agreed with a brief nod. He leaned down and kissed you again, slowly and tenderly. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you,’ Bradley repeated back to you. ‘The backyard looks amazing!’

‘Yeah?’ You looked back towards your work, noting all the drastic changes that happened over the last two weeks. You had finally began to feel like you were regaining some of that passion you had for your life from years ago. Maybe you were never going to be the same person, but at least you would be happy.

Especially if Bradley remained a constant in your life.

‘Are you working tonight?’ He asked.

You nodded, ‘Yes, Penny and Amelia should be back here around three-thirty so they can shower before Penny and I have to go open the bar.’

‘The team is gonna be there tonight,’ Bradley said slowly. ‘Since we’re not taking it slow slow anymore… could I, if it’s okay with you, introduce you as my girlfriend this time around?’

Your smile couldn’t physically grow any more at Bradley’s somewhat shy question. If you loved him only a little before, now you loved him even more.

‘I would be very happy if you do,’ you admitted softly, kissing him.

The two of you stayed for a while longer like that, your bodies locked together at three different points. The most important being the tie that had formed at your chests, between both your happy, beating hearts.

Next chapter

(taglist is still open, click here and fill out this Google Form)

tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @everyoneslovechild @shityoudidntaskfor @alluringshawn @marsontoast @lemur46 @shanimallina87 @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

#home to you #iwritetopassthetime #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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nkhrchuwuya · 3 years ago

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knight to a princess

bungou stray dogs | G | 709 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

you finally confess to chuuya the existence of your little daughter. their first meeting goes well. (chuuya ft. single mom reader)

chuuya thought he was prepared.

you’re on your fifth amazing date with chuuya when you tell him “there’s something you have to know about me.” chuuya nervously fiddles with the longer end of his hair and tells you, “there’s something you have to know about me, too.” everyone has their secrets, and his career is heavier than usual, so he thought he’d be prepared to just casually take whatever it is you have to tell him.

until you tell him.

the night you discover that chuuya is part of the port mafia is that day he learns about your daughter.

strangely, you hold his secret like it is not acid and yet expect him to recoil at yours.

“it’s a long story, far too dreary for a nice night like this,” you say, thumb fiddling with the spoon and fork in your hands. “but i wanted you to know.”

chuuya smiles, a tender smile you’d never quite seen on him before. he puts his cutlery down and reaches out to place his hand over yours. “may i see her?”

taken aback, you ask, “like a picture?”

chuuya cocks his head to one side and your eyes widen.

chuuya shows up at your doorstep the next day with two bouquets of flowers—one of the ridiculous, sweepingly large ones he always gets you, and another that is much smaller.

a bouquet that would fit easily in a three-year-old’s arms.

“this is chuuya,” you say to your daughter, who is hiding behind your leg. “he’s… a special friend. he’s a good guy, baby.”

“hi chuuya,” the girl says, before offering her name.

chuuya crouches to get to her height, offering her the bouquet. “it’s nice to finally meet you, princess.”

with a giggle, your daughter takes the thornless roses and rushes to the sofa, mumbling about princes.

“sorry, the house is quite small,” you say, as you gesture chuuya in. he shakes his head as he takes his shoes off at the entrance. “i’ll get you some tea, yeah? you can wait in the living room.”

chuuya sits across your little girl, who hides behind the bouquet of roses she is fiddling with. she peers curiously at chuuya between the petals. when he doesn’t move, or strike, she puts down the bouquet onto the sofa and approaches him.

“why’s your hair like that?” she says, although it’s mostly a garble of sounds. it’s by some miracle that chuuya’s understood it. when she reaches up for the strands, chuuya bends down so she can run her fingers through the strands.

chuuya doesn’t really know how to answer the question, so he deflects. “do you like it?”

“pretty!” the girl confirms. “are you a princess?”

that makes chuuya sputter. “no,” he says. “you are. i’m a knight.”

“knight? whatsa knight?”

“well, he’s someone who protects the princess and the queen,” chuuya tries to explain. the little girl attempts to clamber over his lap at this moment, so he lifts her up with ease. she’s still fiddling with his hair. “he’s strong and brave.”

“mama’s a queen,” she says idly, still tugging at the strands. “she’s strong and brave.”

chuuya smiles. “sure is.”

as he sits there, the child lost in thought, chuuya imagines how difficult it must have been, raising a child nearly alone like this. any attraction he’d had for you has already doubled at this point, his confidence in your survival skills and determination growing by the second. and look at the beautiful young girl you have, too.

chuuya wants to protect what you’ve built.

“hey, princess,” chuuya says, catching the attention of the little girl. he puts out his pinky finger, and offers it to her. “can i make a promise to you?”

“promise what?” she asks, but offers her own pinky finger anyway, mirroring the gesture. chuuya intertwines their fingers together.

“that i’ll always protect you and your mama,” he says. “like a knight.”

your little girl’s eyes widen in delight. “like to a princess and queen?”

“yes, exactly like that.”

“you promise me, okay?” your daughter says, grinning, squeezing his finger.

(you watch quietly at the doorway, in awe, smiling to yourself.)

the next time chuuya comes, he brings along with him a full-sized dollhouse.

#nakahara chuuya #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #💌 chuuya lovemail #genre:fluff #rating:g #we all know chuuya would be best adoptive dad award #so:alternate

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lieutenantwilliamrusso · 3 years ago

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It Will Come Back 3

Warnings: Stalking, masturbation, 18+ minors DNI

A/N: I wonder if she'll take him to the dog park

Billy’s a fucking genius. He knew you’d take him home, sweet as you are. He’d broken into your apartment that morning after you’d headed out to work, just to get a feel for where he’d be spending his time. The locks were easy just like he’d known they’d be, and before he knew it he was inside. Your space was comforting, a clean and airy 1-bedroom with matching sets of pillows on the plush couch and lots of light coming through the windows next to it. Billy had instantly wanted to spend more there, especially after his cock started to twitch when he’d smelled your scent on everything.

He’d made his way into your bedroom, savoring the way your scent got stronger inside it. This room was just as homey, with pictures of your friends on your night stands and a big, soft-looking bed between them. Your sheets were white, he’d noted with distaste. You’d have to get new ones or risk the constant sight his wolf’s black hair. He was sure he could chew them up if needed.

After his appraisal of your bed, your dresser caught his eye. He had crossed the room and gently slid the top drawer open. Bingo. Billy had smiled down at your panties and bras for a moment, before choosing a light pink pair to tuck into the pocket of his jacket. He’d moved on to your laundry hamper after, much more interested in the strength of your scent on the already worn clothes.

Instead of going through its contents, Billy had stuck his whole head down into it, inhaling deeply and exhaling on a moan. It was like you were right there in his arms, the scent so intoxicating Billy had opened his pants right there and knelt on the floor. He’d grabbed a handful of the nearest laundry and held it to his nose as he’d touched himself with quick strokes. He’d barely lasted a few minutes before his release was dripping onto your floor. He was momentarily grateful your bedroom wasn’t carpeted. He’d spent another moment savoring your scent before moving from his position.

After Billy had cleaned up, he had taken a shirt and another pair of panties from your hamper before leaving. If he had stayed any longer you might have found him in your bed after work, unable to stop getting off at your sweet scent. You smelled like honey and flowers, freshly baked cookies and a breeze in the last weeks of summer. You smelled like safety, home.

Now, his wolf is watching you cook breakfast after finally rolling out of bed. You had smiled when you saw him next to you that morning, slow and peaceful like you were happy he was with you. It had made his tail wag excitedly. You had kissed his forehead before getting out of bed and if Billy had been in his human form he’d have begged you to do it again.

Breakfast is eggs and bacon, which he devours quickly to have a more few moments to watch you. When you finish, you pat his head and clean up.

“I’m gonna try to find your real family today, okay? But I have to work first so you’ll need to stay here.”

Billy wags his tail in affirmation.

You get ready for work while Billy lounges in your living room, sneaking glances at you when you pass the open door of your bedroom. After a few minutes you reemerge before telling him you would be right back. You leave the apartment and he listens as you open the door to the stairs in the hallway. A few minutes later you’re back, a collar and leash in your hands. Billy hadn’t considered this. You’re going to walk him. He’s never had a collar before let alone a goddamned leash.

“Ms. Anderson has a German Shepard, so I’m hoping this fits you. Come here, pal,” You say, coming towards him.

Billy growls, just a soft warning. You frown, holding out the collar.

“Come on, you can’t walk around without a collar. You’ll get lost again.”

He stares at you for a moment and them relents, loping towards you reluctantly, aching to appease you.

“Good boy!” You praise, scratching his head.

You secure the collar around his neck, testing it with a finger to make sure it doesn’t choke him. You then secure the leash and begin to lead him outside. Billy has no fucking idea how to walk on a leash and every few seconds you’re jolted forward as you run out of leash for him to use. He makes it quick, stopping to sniff a few times at random objects like a real dog and trying not to yank you around. When he’s done, you take him back inside and leave him with a bowl of water before you collect your things for work and promise him you’ll be back later. The door shuts behind you with a click and Billy waits for a few moments before he lets himself turn.

A minute later he’s sitting on your living room floor wearing nothing but a collar.

He had told Frank he was taking a few days off from Anvil to recover from the full moon, but he couldn’t abandon his company forever. Thankfully, Frank had come back right after his own full moon turning and took over in Billy’s absence. Billy stretches, unused to being so close to the ground for so long before he’s heading to your bathroom and climbing onto the lid of the toilet. You have a loose ceiling tile and Billy had returned to stuff a small duffle bag full of supplies into it the the day before on his way to follow you home from work.

He pulls the collar off and throws it onto the bag before showering, taking the opportunity to make himself come two separate times to the image of you naked the night before. Your soft skin had almost glowed under the dim light of the lamp on your nightstand. Your hair had fallen around your face loosely, framing your bright eyes. Billy takes his time, working himself over to the way your tits had bounced as you’d walked over to close your bedroom door, the way your pussy had glistened in the light, the skin not quite dry. He had refused to breath in that moment, he knew the second he smelled your sweet pussy he’d be human again, begging you to let him have a taste, just for a second.

After he cleans himself off, Billy gets dressed and takes his laptop from the bag, heading to your living room. He figures he can get some work done while you’re out, and be your good boy again by the time you’re home from work. As he orders breakfast, unwilling to touch what’s in your fridge and risk you noticing, he ponders how long it will take for you to realize you’re keeping him.

If Billy is honest with himself, he has no fucking idea how he’s going to introduce himself to you. ‘Hey, I’m the dog that’s been sleeping in your bed and using your wifi. Also, I’m a werewolf.’ Fuck. He’ll figure it out. He always does. He has a little less than a month until the next full moon and he’ll have you before then. He has to.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #monster!billy russo #my fics

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

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bonny-kookoo · 5 years ago

Text

Delicate (JJK x Reader) 🐾💜☁️🔞

🧶Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🧶Genre: hybrid!AU, Tsundere (slightly), Fluff, a bit of Angst, smut

🧶Warnings: Jungkook is a brat, Catboy!Jungkook, He basically hates everyone but his kitten, HUman! Reader, Wet dream, masturbation, big dick! Kook but whats new, Sweet reader, Spanking (and not on her butt if you know what I mean), Rough handjob (fem. Rec), doggy style, Desperate koo, overstimulation, forced orgasm, multiple orgasm, slightly angsty moment, but nothing bad lol, confessions, basically owner/Hybrid to lovers lol

🧶Summary: Jungkook does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Changing for you might be harder than he initially thought- but maybe he doesn't even need to. Maybe you'll love him just for who he actually is.

Jungkook was a maine coon hybrid. He's been at the shelter for years now, adopted just to be returned a week later, every time. He's got serious additude problems, thinks way too highly of himself, is just overall too much to handle. He knows that. But that doesn't mean he wants to change.

No, he actually actively decides to be a dick. Simply irritating others is like some sort of game for him, feeding his ego to no ends whenever someone gives up on him. It's like he's winning.

Jungkook loves winning.

It all however, changes as soon as he spots you. You're small, and not in a sense of short- no, you actually look like a doll to him. So delicate, so adorable, Jungkook can't help but stare with wide, green cateyes. His pupils are contracted as if you're too bringt for them to handle, yet its only the amount of sudden emotions that's making them look like that. As soon as you turn around, spotting him, smiling at him, they widen like the moon itself; making the cat-hybrid next to him wave a hand in front of his face, since he completely blocked out the fact that the older hybrid was talking to him. He irritatedly swishes his hand away, ears now perked up as his fluffy tail twitches every second or so. He can hear your voice, soft and sweet, and he's whipped already.

Jungkook wants you.

He stands up suddenly, completely dismissing the hybrid that he'd conversed with earlier, as he walks over to you, who's standing in front of another area filled with dog hybrids. He scrunches his nose in disgust; you don't need one of those mutts, you need him. He stops a footstep away from you, and the worker sighes as you look up at the hybrid. "Oh, thats Jungkook-" he explains. "He's one of our problem cases, so I wouldn't really reccomend him for you." He explains, and Jungkooks brows furrow. Who the fuck does he think he is, calling him a problem case? He knows its true, but that doesn't mean he can just say that out loud to anyone, especially not you. How's he supposed to gain your trust now?

You smile, now visibly a little intimitated. Jungkook knows why, knows that his physique is pretty much yelling strength and confidence. He suddenly gets an idea, and decides to try it out. No hurt in playing around a little.

So he lets his ears droop, and slowly walks back towards the corner of the room, simply sitting down there before flopping to his side, huffing out a breath as if exhausted. He hoped it works, otherwise he's pulling this stunt without reason, making a fool of himself for nothing. But it seems as if it works, slowly, because he can spot your now slightly worried eyes watching him as the worker leads you along, to meet some other dog hybrids. He knows he's got you. He just has to wait.

Jungkook loves taking naps.

And this time, it helped time pass by easily, as he suddenly smells your fabric softener again, as he can hear the worker try and talk you out of it. He can feel you behind him as he'd rolled around on his spot to face the wall, and he visibly shudders as your hand touches his tail. He turns around slowly, tired eyes spotting you squatting down close to his back, as he sits up. He looks at you curiously, and you suddenly smile, leaning your head slightly to the side, your earrings dangling prettily from your ears as he can't look away. You're even prettier up close and personal like this. "So, you're Jungkook?" You ask, and he forgets to answer for a moment, nods after he notices the awkward silence, as he blushes. You giggle, and sit down properly, obviously intending to get to know him more.

Good.

He sits properly as well, not saying anything, as you ask away. "They said you're quite the troublemaker." You amusedly state, and Jungkook suddenly has the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn't however, knowing all his acting would've been for nothing if he slipped now. So he simply looks down, his ears slightly bend backwards as he scratches his neck. "But I think you're just a bit rough around the edges." You explain, and his eyes move, looking at you as you continue. "Like a diamond, you know? They need to be handled carefully, and then they turn into the prettiest things." You say, and he already decides he loves your voice. He carefully answers.

"You think so?"

He can see the surprise in your face, it's to be expected. His tone doesn't fit his current act at all, but he can't change that. But you smile, nodding, and he internally sighs at that, at the fact that you simply accepted that. "Look-" You suddenly say, pulling out your phone and showing him a balcony, with pretty flowers blooming. You swipe, and it shows what he assumes is your apartment. It's small, he notices, but for some reason it looks more inviting than any place he'd ever been to. It looks cozy, well taken care of, and a tad bit unruled; it looks like a home. His eyes sparkle with actual genuine interest. "We could put some blankets here, the sun shines there nicely throughout the day, so you could take some awesome naps there-" You explain, and his ears perk into your direction at that. "Oh, and during the summer you can always stay on the balcony- its really nice there when its hot you know? The cool breeze is nice." You say, and suddenly notice how he's looking at you, expecting something. "I mean-" You stutter suddenly, locking your phone and growing a bit shy at him being so close to you. You have to admit; he's really handsome. "Only if you want to come with me, that is." You ask, and he suddenly nods.

Jungkook would love to come home with you.

That was a year ago, and your home slowly became his own home as well, more perfect than those photos could ever convey.

As you walk around the apartment, he notices how you carry some of your own stuff into another room- smaller than the original bedroom. At his confused glance, you scratch the back of your neck, right where he knows your scent is strongest, and he gets the urge to bury his nose into the spot. "Oh! I just uhm.. last night you slept in front of my door, so I thought you may want to change rooms? You're bigger than me, so you need more space, i think?" You say, and he shakes his head with a soft smile, walking up to you and stopping you in your tracks.

"N-No.. Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He wonders, now not looking at you anymore, as you look up at his eyes. "I uhm.." He starts, swallowing some saliva to finally get the words out. "I was wondering if I could sleep in your room."

Its quiet for a moment, and he grows anxious at this, thinking that he had just overstepped some boundary he didn't know of yet. "Like- I mean, I get lonely during the night, and you said once that you need to hug something to sleep well and maybe you could hug me and we would safe costs for heating because two people are warmer than just one and-" He rambles on, and you put your hands on his shoulders, making him shut up in the midst of talking. Your touch does that to him, most of the time. It's like magic, addicting, and he can't help but swallow again, now however not because of fear.

"You should've said something sooner, silly!" You say, reaching up to scratch his ear, which involuntarily makes him purr as he presses against your hand. "Of course you can. Don't worry so much, kookie." You say, and he smiles at this, happy that he was finally closer to you.

Jungkook is such a sweet cat, in your eyes. He's gentle, always so ready to help you with whatever problem you have, lending you a hand with household chores; he's truly the perfect hybrid at your side.

So, so sweet.

Scratch that.

Jungkook was currently eyeing your best friend down, ears pinned back while his fluffy tail was standing tall, agression clear in his entire posture. "Wow, ok. What's with him?" Yoongi asks, unsure on what exactly was going on. Maybe it was Hoesok's scent on him that agitated him? But he couldn't know for sure. Instead of you however, Jungkook answered in his low voice, clearly offended by something. He doesn't klnow why this always happens.

"Don't talk like I'm not here, asshole." He spits out, and your eyes widen. Jungkook was such a sweet guy around you, it was hard to imagine this was actually happening time and time again. He was watching Yoongi with careful eyes, pupils contracted to slits as his greenish eyes pin the older man down with their stare. He's cautious, and you don't quite know about what, until Yoongi makes the mistake of reaching out for you.

Before so much as his fingertips can reach you, Jungkook has already jumped from his spot, shoving the shorter man back with so much force he almost falls into the small coffee table behind him. "Jungkook!" You exclaim scandalized, as he turns around at your tone of voice. Looking at your posture, taking in your scent, he can sense immediately that you're scared, confused, and he hates it. "Apologize." You demand, and Jungkook shakes his head, unwavering, before you sigh out, pointing towards the bedroom door. "Then get inside. And don't come out until I say so." You say, and his ears pin themselves back again, however his shoulders slump down as well, visibly deflating. He's actually sorry now- but it's too late to force himself to apologize to Yoongi; that intruder who's clearly here to claim territory. "Now." You say, and Jungkook suddenly breaks eye contact with you, letting himself be defeated for the first time since he was adopted.

For some reason, your voice hangs heavy on his muscles, heavier than any collar ever hung around his neck.

He hates this. He hates that he has to give up the fight to this complete stranger just because you said so; yet he can't will himself to go against your will. He wants to stay, he wants to be good, but he cant help but grow hostile with another guy in the same apartment as you. It's as if he's giving you up, and that's definitely not what he wants to do. But its ultimately whats happening.

And he hates it.

Jungkook isn't a sweet kitty. He's an untamed tiger, just simply agreeing on living with you, and that has become very apparent these months. He likes to pick on you, and loves to make a mess. There's nothing left of the oh so sweet and caring catboy you adopted a year ago, but it somehow doesn't bother you. You know that he was eager to get out of the shelter, and that he had been pretending for long enough.

This was Jungkooks true nature, and you were okay with that.

He was a bit of a brat, throwing down objects placed by you whenever you weren't home, simply to show you his unhappiness about that fact. He knew that you had to work, but that didn't mean that he liked it.

He also had a major enemy now.

Seokjin across the street, Namjoons prized silver labrador hybrid, or so he calls him. He's handsome, you have to admit, but Jungkook can't see anything visually appealing about the mutt. He hates him with a passion, and its quite possibly because of his very flirty nature, especially towards you. Jungkook wasn't talented in that department, he rather enjoyed picking on you than complimenting you. Compliments got boring after a while. Calling you shorty and watching you struggle to reach the highest shelf would never get old to him, however.

He likes to call Seokjin a rat for his grey features, just to see him get all offended, and he doesn't care much that you always scold him for it. He likes to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and he's been testing you long enough to somehow know when the fun is over. He'd never intentionally hurt you, emotionally nor physically, but that doesn't mean he can't pick on you now and then.

Its his own way of showing affection. You just don't quite get it, it seems.

Its when you leave for a late night business gathering to celebrate the company's anniversary that he breaks. He simply pretends to be asleep as he waits for you to leave, simply peeking at your dress though almost closed eyes, and he wishes he didn't do it. Your scent is driving him crazy already, yet you were always careful to cover up around him, seemingly conscious about him and the fact that he is, apart from his cat side, still a young man. He wont ever be able to burn that image of your perfect legs in that perfect little dress out of his mind now that he's seen it. And its the kiss you place on his cheek that pushes him over the edge, makes him struggle to stay composed until he can hear the front door close shut.

He whines out, turning around on the bed as he buries his face into the sheets, into the spot that's usually occupied by your form. It still smells like you; not like you when you try to use perfume, which he hates, but your unmasked smell he absolutely loves. It fills his senses, makes him squirm on the mattress as he turns, bunching the sheets between his legs as he begins to hump into nothing, the friction of the bed sheets enough to rile him up as he bites the pillow your head usually rests on. He can see it in front of him vividly like a dream he's experiencing right in that moment. You, laid out underneath him, his teeth not clamping down on fabric but your delicate skin, making such wonderful noises as he takes you like the good and sweet girl you are for him. How enticingly you would mewl, arching your back as he guides his leaking cock inside you, stretching you out as his hands would hold you close, keep you upright so you wont just smash onto the mattress onto your face. He curses as he picks up his pace, simple movement not enough anymore as his hand reaches down, frustratingly palming his impatient erection hidden underneath his sweatpants as his dream continues, showing him how you would say his name, breathlessly, as you would look over your shoulder.

Then it shifts, as his mind is suddenly focusing on your face. Would you be into giving him head? Oh god, if you would, he knows he wouldn't be able to last; with your innocent eyes, kneeled in front of him, so eagerly taking his cock he couldn't help but cum inside your throat. And he knows you would be such a good kitten, you would swallow him down prettily, and he would praise you so good. "Hnng, fuck..!" He exclaims, as he writhes on top of the sheets, messing everything up, but he doesn't care.

He never really thought about that weird missionary position humans liked, but he could actually see the appeal of it, if he was doing it with you. To be able to see every change of your features, how your soft lips would part in pleasure as he fills you up like you should be, oh it would be a sight for him to see. His eyes squeeze shut as he turns his head, groaning loudly as he almost sobs brokenly into the pillow, feeling his release stain the fabric of his sweats uncomfortably. But he doesn't care, as he sniffles, breathing heavily before he chuckles.

"Fuck, I'm pathetic."

Can hybrids outgrow their owners?

It certainly feels like it. Jungkook has been growing more and more distant to you, and you feel as if its your own fault. You must've done something wrong, you assume, as he distances himself more and more not only from you, but everyone else as well. He doesn't pick up a fight with Seokjin anymore, hell, he even let Yoongi inside yesterday. And you try to push back your tears as you walk inside the living room, where he's currently sitting, watching the window, tail lazily swaying softly. Maybe the apartment really was too small for him- you've head your neighborly lady complain recently about that when she saw him through the window. Maybe you weren't the right person for him.

"Jungkookie?" You carefully ask, as you see his tail twitch, a sign that he noticed you. "We need to talk." You start, and he gets up, ready to leave the room.

"Well I don't want to though, your bad." He responds, and you reach for his hand, as he whips his head around, ready to bite an answer out, but he spots something in your gaze that makes him stop in his tracks.

"We need to.. I can't- I can't make that decision for you, we need to talk about where you wanna go." His brows furrow as he tries to figure out what you're implying, a weird feeling in his gut telling him that it's something he wont like at all. "I want you to be happy, even if its not with me kookie." You sigh out, and he connects the dots, suddenly realizing what you're saying.

"Ho- wait no no-" His eyes widen, and you look at him as he shakes his head at you, suddenly defensive. "You want to give me away?!" He barks out, bushy tail behind him angrily whipping from one side to the other. "I don't want to! You said this is my home, you can't make me leave!" He spits at you, and you grow confused.

"But-" You start. "You've been so uncomfortable around me Kook, it's okay if you don't want to live with me anymore, really. Namjoon said that sometimes Hybrids outgrow their owners-" You say, but Jungkooks eyes glint angrily.

"Namjoon doesn't know shit!" He yells, and you shut up at that. "I don't want to go, I won't ever go!" He finalizes, and you are on your last leg. He's completely confusing you at this point.

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to do! You're clearly not comfortable around me anymore, what am I supposed to do?!" You yell back, voice by far not as strong as his, but it riles him up enough that he snaps.

"There's nothing you can do about my fucking hormones giving me wet dreams about you like a teenager!" He says, and your eyes widen, making his ears grow red in shame. "There, I said it. Want me to spell it out? I want to fuck you, there you go!" He says, throwing his hands in the air for good measure as he breathes heavily, giving both of you a moment to process his confession. He suddenly grows more quiet, more calm, his voice in no way as harsh and loud as before. "No.. no that's not right." He admits, and comes to conclusion that its now or never. "I want to hold you at night like a lover does, not just a hybrid and his owner. I want you to see me as a partner, not just as a pet." he states, gaze falling downwards as his ears flop to the sides, tail unmoving behind him.

"I never saw you as just a pet, Koo." You say, and he perks up at that, as you walk closer to him, hugging him closely, as he stands a bit awkwardly, before deciding to hug you back. "I didn't want to take advantage of you." You say, and he grows hopeful.

"Does that mean you.. like me like that?" He asks, and you nod into his chest.

Making him grin like an idiot.

Its after this moment that things slowly change a bit. He's still picking on you whenever he can, but he's also being awfully suggestive ever since your talk. Its like he wants to know what runs your gears more clearly these days, as he's making sure to flaunt his post workout body every now and then just to see you turn red at the sight.

He loves how he makes you shy.

Its you however, who breaks him first.

The day he can't keep his hands off of you is the day the spider in your shower decided to jump down on you, scaring the life out of your body as you screach in horror, fleeing the scene in nothing but a towel as you safe yourself into the bedroom, where Jungkook had been taking a nap before hearing your scream. He's ready to laugh at you, until he notices the towel barely hanging onto what you hold against your chest, skin still slightly damp as only your hair is still dry. He can't help himself anymore. "Hm.. how about I get your mind off of that scary little insect?" He humms from behind you, and you open your mouth to retort a snappy remark, but you don't get that far.

He's already behind you, his legs placing themselves next to yours on the bed as he hooks his own over yours, spreading your legs for him as he takes the bits of towel out of your hands, making it fall to the sides, revealing your body to him, at last. He can't help but lick his lips at the sight he gets from over your shoulder, purring loudly as he licks at your neck, finally getting a taste of you; and it's energizing, like a drug, making a shiver run through his spine as his tail twitches behind him in pleasure. You gasp out loud as he bites down, hand reaching between your legs to move his middle and ring finger inside your already wettening center, making him groan. "So ready.." He muses, loving the sounds you make, as he obnoxious noise of squelching from the wettness between your legs with every movement of his fingers fills the room. You struggle to close your legs at the sensation, but he doesn't let you; instead gently hitting your cunt as if to put you back into place, while he groans. "Bad girl. This is mine, isn't it?" He asks, and you can't answer for a moment. "This-" He says, his hand forcefully coming down onto your pussy again, as you squeal from it. "Is mine, isn't it?" He asks again, and you nod over and over again, making him smile. "That's right. And I do what I want with it." He says, before he pumps his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, uncaring of the mess he's making as you squirm and mewl in his lap. He loves this, loves how the sounds he imagined you making can't ever compare to what he's currently hearing. He has to take you.

He removes his hand, undressing himself impatiently as he turns you over for him, behind presented to him as he licks his lips again. "So pretty." He praises, and pumps his length once, twice, before he enters your smooth center, already feeling as if he's in heaven. "I promise I-" He starts, but has to moan out as you clench around him particularly hard. "I promise I'll be gentle next time-" He says, before his palms find your breasts, kneading them in his palms as he kisses along your spine. "But I need you." He whines out, making you huff out a breath as you look over your shoulder, just like he imagined. "Fuck!" He presses out, skin against skin one of the many sounds apart from your heavy breathing and shared sounds of pleasure inside the room, spider long forgotten as you suddenly arch your back into him. "My kitten's gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and a cute moan is all he gets- all he needs, as you try to get up a bit more, making him push your neck into the pillows below, careful to let you breath as your cheek is what meets the fabric below, his other hand brushing away your hair lovingly, so that he can watch you come undone. "So sweet, so submissive.." He humms out, as he dips down, your back against his chest as he kisses underneath your earlobe, amusement clear in his voice. "Such a cute little whore for me, my sweetest princess, so beautiful.." He praises, and you moan out obscenely as you come, his pace never stopping once. "You're gonna have to-" He says, moving more desperately now to reach his own peak. "You're gonna have to take it baby." He presses out, holding your hips as he forces them onto him with more strength, making you whine in overstimulation. "Almost there- there we go-" He exclaims, uncaringly rubbing your clit between your legs as you shiver violently underneath him, second orgasm hitting you so quickly that your body can't seem to prepare itself as you feel wetness escape you, making him groan loudly. "What a good girl, look at that- ah!" He exclaims, pushing himself as deep as he can as you feel him spurt his load inside you, finally stopping, finally calming down.

"Jungkook?" You ask out of breath, as he simply holds you close, still buried inside of you, falling to the side as he buries his nose in between the crook of your neck.

"Hmm.. no, lets stay like that.." He humms sleepily, and you simply close your eyes, agreeing to his statement.

Jungkook is not a sweet cat- but he certainly has his moments.

"Kitten?" He asks, as he notices you being weirdly quiet next to him on the couch, now noticing the tears on your cheeks. "You're such a crybaby!" He laughs, as he wipes away your tears with his sweater sleeve, making you pout.

"Not fair." You mumble out, and he simply chuckles, placing a kiss ontop of your nose.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #hybrid imagine #hybrid jungkook #hybrid jungkook imagine #hybrid smut #hybrid jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #second madame nie #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #what does the fox say

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