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tonycries · 6 months ago

Text

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left.

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you?

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse.

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything.

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly.

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere.

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it.

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe.

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words.

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought.

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go.

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own.

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back.

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms.

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you?

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru.

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him.

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by.

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend.

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core.

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra.

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you.

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker.

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now.

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down.

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity.

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor.

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts.

And it was so unfair.

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were.

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt.

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used.

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now.

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you.

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything.

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance.

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier.

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close.

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat.

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard.

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time.

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-”

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth.

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything.

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of.

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue.

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes.

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild.

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then.

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time.

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum.

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive.

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice.

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick.

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy.

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs.

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…”

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t.

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him.

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break.

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks.

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face.

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting.

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow.

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut.

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it.

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty.

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind.

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain.

And then it’s black.

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so.

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months ago

Note

hi! im so glad ur doing well, my dash did feel a lil empty without your blurbs and random posts c:

if you're still in the writing mood, steve and unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping or not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out got me all soft and i think you'd write something cute w it :(((

🧡

Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was that animal part of your brains, the one Murray always spoke about, the part that quietly told you all there was safety in numbers.

Maybe it was because you’d all gone through enough to realise there were indeed very real reasons to be scared of the dark.

Movie nights turned into sleepovers, never really planned, but always wholly accepted. Bodies on couches, on the floor, sleeping bags pulled from attic spaces and kids crushed together top to toe on the pullout in the Wheeler’s basement. Someone on an old recliner, a blanket pulled from a picnic basket to use to keep warm, heaps of pillows making a patchwork on the floor, socked feet pressed to thighs because even in sleep it was nice to know your friends were close.

Maybe that’s why it happened.

A night of watching Jaws, everyone chewing on popcorn and pretending that there wasn’t something evil outside, something lingering in the dark that was so much worse than a big fish called Bruce. Before the credits could roll, before the spilled candy could be cleaned up, people would nod off one by one, soft snores becoming a well heard lullaby.

It was only you and Steve left, squished in the corner of the floor, sandwiched against the couch that Max and Eleven had claimed, your backs only just saved by a mismatch of sleeping bags and cushions reserved for the patio furniture in the summer. The TV buzzed with static, an indigo glow barely lighting the room and Steve had long lay down, cheek pressed to his pillow as he whispered back to you.

The conversation was never light hearted, not anymore, not even in the midst of a sleepover. Worried words always exchanged, knots between brows and an unsettled feeling in stomachs because everyone was past believing it might actually be okay this time.

Something had to give. Right? Right?

So sleep didn’t come easy, not when your last words, last thoughts were about survival and risk taking, about your friends getting hurt or worse. The chocolate coating your tongue turned to dust and everything tasted sour, so you stared into the dark until you felt it staring back, and only then did you close your eyes.

Sleep still didn’t come. It taunted you, teased at you from behind your eyelids, pulling you downdowndown until the sharp prod of the beginnings of a nightmare jerked you back awake.

At some point, when you lingered between sleeping and not, something touched your wrist. Something warm and heavy and comforting. You barely registered the feeling of it sweeping over your pulse, fingers bigger than yours curling over your palm, catching at the spaces between your own until you were holding on for dear life.

Something in the back of your mind told you it was safe, it was better now. You could sleep, it was okay, someone was looking after you.

A body, nudging a little closer, careful not to touch, but a solid wall of warmth beside you, a familiar scent, a thumb running circles over the back of your hand.

You didn’t wake until morning, after Nancy had stepped over your sleeping frame to start making coffee. You would’ve followed too, offered to help by pulling out mugs and cups, but something kept you tethered to the floor.

A hand in yours, fingers intertwined a little looser than before, but there all the same.

Steve.

The boy was still beside you, closer than when he’d fallen asleep, his nose dangerously near your own, his soft breaths huffing out warm air over your joined hands, clasped between your faces. He looked the most peaceful you’d seen him in months.

The lilac bruises under his eyes were still there, but his pink lips were parted lazily, lashes kissing his cheeks, his hair softer than you’d seen and falling into his eyes. He had a crease along his jaw from the sleeping bag zip, an indent of each stitch, pushed into his skin beside each freckle.

Someone stretched and groaned and the boy shifted, only just, nose wrinkling, lips pouting, his hand grasping yours a little tighter - as if even in sleep, he didn’t dare lose you.

You heard Nancy crack some eggs into a bowl, the coffee machine gurgling.

You stayed, holding onto Steve as tightly as he held onto you - if only until it was time to wake up.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington blurb #Steve baby blurb

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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Drinkin’ Problem (Steve Rogers One Shot)

Summary: Steve gets as drunk as he’s able after the loss of you.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, angst, sad Steve

WC: 754

Read on Ao3!

Drinkin' Problem - Midland

The bar wasn’t much, just a small, dimly lit hole-in-the-wall where nobody asked questions. Steve preferred it that way. It was one of the few places in Brooklyn where he could be alone, even when the place was packed. The regulars had learned to give him his space, and the bartender—an older man with a gruff demeanor—knew better than to make small talk. He just poured Steve’s drink, slid it across the counter, and moved on.

Steve swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the faint light from the jukebox in the corner. It was an old machine, playing country tunes that Steve wasn’t all too familiar with, though they fit the mood. Right now, Drinkin' Problem by Midland was crooning through the speakers, its slow, mournful rhythm syncing perfectly with his thoughts.

They call it a problem, I call it a solution…

The lyrics hit harder than they should have. Steve wasn’t drinking because he liked it. Hell, he could probably go days without touching the stuff if he wanted to. But it wasn’t about the whiskey. It was about *her*.

He took a long, slow sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat, dulling the ache in his chest—but just barely. He’d thought he could handle the pain. After all, he’d survived wars, fought gods, and saved the world more times than he could count. But nothing prepared him for this. For the silence. For the emptiness that swallowed him whole when she was gone.

It wasn’t just her. God, she was a wound that had long since scarred over, even if it never fully healed. But this…this was different. She’d been real. Present. Someone he could’ve built a life with. The life he’d been trying to live in the shadows of being Captain America. But she was gone now. Another casualty in a life full of them.

He could still hear her voice in the quiet moments, the way she’d call his name with that soft laugh of hers. The way she’d lean into him when the world felt too big, too heavy. She’d been his anchor, the one person who didn’t see him as just the man out of time or the symbol of freedom, but as Steve. Just Steve.

Now, all he had left were the memories—and the whiskey to help him live with them.

He downed the rest of his drink, feeling the warmth spread through him, numbing the edges of his grief. For a moment, he thought about leaving the bar. Heading back to the empty apartment that waited for him. But what was the point? The silence there was worse than the noise here. At least here, the clinking of glasses and the hum of the jukebox kept him company, even if they couldn’t fill the void she’d left behind.

Another drink appeared in front of him. He didn’t remember asking for it, but the bartender knew his routine by now. He nodded in silent thanks, lifting the glass to his lips. The whiskey went down smoother this time, or maybe he was just getting used to it.

The song switched, but he barely noticed. The world outside felt like a blur, distant and unimportant. His life had always been about the mission, about fighting for something bigger than himself. But now, what was he fighting for? What was left? The world moved on, as it always did, but Steve Rogers was still here, still stuck in his grief, drowning in memories of the life he’d almost had.

The bar began to thin out as the night wore on, but Steve stayed. He wasn’t ready to face the real world yet. Not without her. Maybe not ever.

He lifted his glass once more, staring into the amber liquid like it held the answers he was looking for. It didn’t. But at least it helped him forget, if only for a little while.

“They call it a problem,” he muttered to himself, echoing the song, “but I call it a solution.”

The bartender caught his eye from across the bar, offering a knowing nod before returning to his work. Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d stay here tonight. Maybe just one more drink. Maybe not. But tomorrow? Tomorrow he’d be back.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about the whiskey. It wasn’t even about forgetting. It was about holding on to what little pieces of her he still had left.

And for now, that was enough.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers angst #steve rogers and reader

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Hey! Love the temptation danny story so much! Can i have a follow up request where reader has to go home for vacation due to a family reunion while danny is off somewhere for testing and she tells danny that its ok that she goes alone since he is busy but he keeps insisting that they should go together but reader has already booked a flight and the next following days while the family reunion is going on danny just arrives and everyone gets so starstruck by him and he is so possessive of her while the reunion is going on, LOVE THE FICS BTW YOU ARE AN AWESOME WRITER

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {6}

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff (two part request) WC: 3.4K F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven Snapshots: One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Wednesday “Honestly, it’s fine,” you reassured him for the seemingly hundredth time.

Daniel’s suitcase was at the door beside yours except the planes you were leaving from in Nice were going in two very different directions.

“It’s not fine,” he muttered as he checked his Passport was in his back pocket before pulling you into his arms. “I was looking forward to seeing your family again. They’re going to be mine soon too.”

You smiled at the reminder and brushed your thumb over the engagement ring. “You’ll see them at Christmas.”

“Not everyone,” he pointed out. The Christmas get together was going to have both of your immediate family members, with his flying out from Australia. “I want to talk to your cousins.”

“What? Why?” You pulled back to see the mischievous look in his eyes and the smile that promised he was up to something.

“Cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled. “And I want to know what you were really like as a kid.”

“I was a little angel.”

His hands roamed over your body to settle on your ass and he pulled you flush against him as he teased, “What happened?”

You giggled as you rose on your tiptoes and grazed your nose along his throat before resting your lips on his jaw as you teased him right back, “I fell for a man with a wicked tongue.”

You could see the darkening in his eyes and his lips parted with a filthy suggestion on the tip of his tongue but the blaring of an alarm from his jeans drew a groan out instead. “I’m going to have blue balls for the flight now.”

“You should probably take care of that.”

“It’s a 30 minute drive to the airport, Kitten, you could take care of it along the way.”

It was a strange feeling returning to the town you had grown up in. The streets remained the same, trees lining the curb and kids playing in the front yards, but the faces were all unrecognisable. Like you, most of the people you knew had fled as soon as they finished high school, searching for something bigger than what this place could offer.

Nearly every parking space on the street was taken by your extended family but your dad had saved one for you near the house with the recycling bin. It was a good thing too because Daniel had kind of spoiled you as he walked you to your boarding gate. He hadn’t been able to resist dragging you into the duty free shops in the terminal and now the extra baggage was missing the pair of hands that carried it for you. You had told him it was too much but he just kissed you until you forgot about arguing. It wasn’t fair, you could never win an argument when he cheated like that.

You got the feeling everyone had been waiting for you because the moment your car door closed they all filed out of the house to come and help with your luggage.

“There’s the city-slicker, welcome home,” Vanessa greeted with a kiss on your cheek before pouting as she saw the empty front seat. “Damn, thought you were bringing the sugar daddy with you.”

“Don’t call him that, he’s not my sugar daddy,” you warned with a roll of your eyes but your cousin clearly wasn’t paying attention. “Daniel is with the Red Bull guys in Japan for some big event. He wishes he could come but they called in everyone: Scotty, Liam, Mad Mike, they all had to be there too. ”

Your dad took the suitcase from your hand and nodded understandingly. “That’s a shame, but at least my little girl has finally come home.”

Your bedroom hadn’t changed all that much since you left to go to university and you could see the pin pricks and faded lines in the wallpaper outlining where your posters used to be.

“Ohh, this is gorgeous,” Nessa grinned as she helped herself to the garment bags, the tags still on the designer clothes Daniel had bought you. “So am I going to meet this not-your-sugar-daddy before the wedding?”

“You could come to Christmas if you want, and go ahead, try it on,” you sighed before flinching at the squeak she made before abandoning her clothes like you were still kids and stepping into the first dress. “Nice to see you haven’t outgrown stealing my clothes.”

“There’s a reason we are the same size, it's fate. Karma herself said, Nessa, you deserve to wear nice things too,” she joked as she turned around. “Do me up?”

“You are so full of shit,” you laughed as you zipped her up. “Am I going to get that back?”

“Do you have a sugar daddy?”

“No.”

“Well there's your answer.”

Friday “Hey Kitten,” Daniel greeted with a bright smile when the video call connected. “How’s it going?”

You leaned the phone against your mirror so you could continue to apply your makeup and held up two shades of lipstick. “Just getting ready to go out with Nessa. How’s the event? I haven’t seen many pictures.”

“Left hand, and you won’t - they are keeping everything under wraps until they have finished filming. Think the Melbourne GP promo vid, but bigger…”

You opened the lipstick he chose, the one you knew he would since he always complimented the shade on you - and when it transferred to his skin too. He fell silent as he watched you lean closer into the mirror, leaving the swell of your breasts filling his screen.

“Kitten…I wish I was there,” he sighed when you pulled back and blew him a kiss to show the colour off.

“I wish you were here too,” you admitted, taking the phone with you as you sat on the bed and hugged your pillow. “Two days down, four to go.”

“You’re still counting in days? I’m counting in hours, fuck it, minutes.” He sent you a screenshot and you saw the countdown timer on his homescreen, the hours and minutes slowly ticking away until you were reunited. “Where are you and Nessa going? Is Carter going too?”

You shook your head at the question. Vanessa’s brother was far too busy with his new girlfriend to want to go to the local bar. “He’s too cool to hang out with us at the Old Oak Inn.”

Daniel sat up a little straighter and didn’t appear too pleased at the news. “Is anyone going with you?”

“Ness.”

“You know what I mean,” he huffed, “who is going to look out for you two?”

“Everyone knows everyone here, baby, we’ll be fine.” You gave him a smile as your chest warmed with the same gooey feeling you got every time he worried about you. “I love you, my protective he-man.”

“I love you too, Kitten,” his face softened until he heard Max calling his name outside his hotel door. “Send me lots of pictures, baby, I wanna see my gorgeous girl having fun.”

Nessa burst into the room as you ended the call and ripped the pillow away from your arms. “Get up, bitch, the taxi is here.”

The bar had changed a lot since you last went, the atmosphere more akin to a club than a pub, and you narrowed your eyes at Nessa who just grinned back. “You said it was a chill night out.”

“I lied,” she said with a shrug. “We can go back if you’d rather get in a fight over monopoly?”

You cringed at the thought so she dragged you through the busy room and straight to the bar.

“Holy shit, we have royalty in the house,” an old school friend greeted as he tended to the bar. “Did Monaco get too busy?”

“Not quite, Mark, I’m just back for a family reunion.” He placed your old favourite drink down without having to ask and you quirked an eyebrow at it.

“I have a good memory, but it might taste better than it did in the old plastic cups we drank out of,” he laughed before pouring a bourbon for Nessa. “Milady.”

He wandered off to serve someone else and you turned to Nessa. “You and Mark?”

“A few times, you know, just a bit of fun,” she said as she winked at him when he glanced back. “Oh, head down, Andrew’s here.”

You ducked into her arms and kept your head down until she said you were safe and sighed with relief. “Jesus, everyone really does come here. Is there any other bar around?”

“If you want to catch an STD off the bar top, sure. Plus, your high school sweetheart will probably find his way to Ruby’s later anyway.”

“We dated for like four months, I wouldn’t call him my highschool sweetheart,” you scoffed.

Nessa’s brow lifted. “Need I remind you he took your V Card? Your first always has a teeny tiny place in your heart.”

“Not mine, and Danny took my A Card so that trumps it.”

“A Card…?” she trailed off before her eyes widened in realisation. “Ew gross. Did it hurt?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Whatever, we both know how you get after a few drinks.” She grabbed your phone and held it up as she raised her glass and you clinked them together before tipping them back. “Perfect. And done.”

You barely caught your phone as she carelessly tossed it back and you saw she hadn’t sent it to Danny but uploaded it to Instagram. “Fucksake, Nessa, you left the location on.”

You had learned quite quickly that most of the people that followed you only used it to see updates Daniel might not have posted himself, including using the locations of your posts thinking Daniel would be with you. It had led to a few scary situations before you learned to keep your location off or at least generalised - but she had tagged the Old Oak Inn.

Taking another photo with a pout, you posted it with the caption, ‘half of my soul is half a world away, miss you danielricciardo’ and hoped it would stop some people within driving distance from making the pointless journey hoping to see Danny.

You opened the photo again and zoomed in to see Andrew in the background, his eyes clearly looking at your ass when the camera snapped.

“What made you happy all of a sudden?” Nessa asked as she returned with fresh drinks.

“Danny’s on his way,” you giggled nervously as you clutched your phone to your chest.

“I thought he couldn’t come.”

“He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t, but I don’t think there’s anyone with the balls to stop him. He can be a little stubborn sometimes.” It was a severe understatement and if he wasn’t such a good driver you were certain he would have been fired for some of the escapades he found himself in because he got a little overprotective and possessive when he was away from you. “Christian Horner offered me a job just so I could be wherever Daniel was and keep him in line, but I think it was a joke.”

“You need to accept it, joke or not, your man is whipped for you.”

You took a sip of your drink before you spilled the truth about who really did the whipping and pondered the idea you had initially laughed off. You could still work a similar role with Red Bull, so maybe it shouldn’t have been brushed off so quickly. For tonight, you would focus on having fun with Nessa and catching up with old friends.

Saturday You groaned at the dawn light that brightened the room as the curtains were ripped aside and rolled over. “Nessa, piss off.”

“Something bothering you, kitten?”

You probably looked like a zombie coming to life as you threw your blankets back and rushed up to meet Daniel as he climbed onto the bed. The old frame creaked unused to the extra weight on it but you didn’t care if it collapsed, you weren’t letting go of Daniel once he was in your arms.

“You’re actually here,” you murmured against his lips when you finally broke apart to breathe. You had kept looking over your shoulder all night expecting him to appear but when the bar closed and he still hadn’t arrived your hope had simmered down.

His smile was blinding as he brushed your messy hair back and buried his face in your neck with a deep inhale. He was a cat high on catnip the moment his nose brushed your racing pulse and he guided you back into the sheets as he caged you beneath him. “Told you I’d see you soon.”

“My parent’s room is next door,” you whispered as his hips settled between your legs and he teased you when he rolled them against you.

“Then I suggest you find something to bite,” he chuckled, his fingers slipping into your panties and feeling how your body had instantly reacted to his touch, “because I have missed you so much. I just need to feel you around me. right now.”

His lips parted and he sighed at the pretty sight as he dragged your panties down your legs. “There’s my pretty kitty,” he mused as he shuffled down the bed so he could settle between your legs, kissing your thighs softly as he reacquainted himself after three days apart. “Have you missed me?”

“Like crazy.”

“She thinks I’m talking to her,” he whispered and you felt the warmth of his breath on the sensitive spot he was confessing to. You giggled at the silly man and squirmed with the silent plea for him to stop talking and do more, the bed creaking with the movement. Daniel grabbed your hips and held them still so the bed fell silent before shaking his head with an amused smirk. “Impatient little minx.”

Rather than take the taste you knew he wanted, he flipped you onto your knees and pushed your head into the pillow to silence the sounds that spilled forth as he curled two fingers into your cunt. A few flicks of his wrist were the only preparation he gave your body before his shorts were halfway down his thighs and he replaced his fingers with his cock.

Your pillow heated with the heavy moan that filled it and it grew damp as your teeth clamped down on the satin slip. It had only been three days but the burn of the stretch danced the fine line between pleasure and pain until he reached around your hip and found your clit.

“Fuck you’re tight, kitten,” Daniel grunted, his lip almost bleeding as he bit it to keep quiet and pulled back a little so you could acclimate to his size again. “You okay, baby?”

You answered by pushing yourself back, needing him as much as he needed you, and you relished in the full feeling when your ass met his body. His heavy breathing broke the quiet morning and he covered your back, pressing his lips to your spine and following the line to your neck.

“Lay down for me.”

Unwilling to part with you for a moment, he helped you onto your stomach and carefully shifted until his legs were outside of yours and your thighs pressed together. The pillow muffled your moans as the position increased the feeling of fullness and he rode you with long smooth strokes, keeping the bed from creaking.

“Three days was too much, kitten,” he confessed quietly as he kissed your shoulder. “I can’t go a day without you. Want you with me, always.”

Despite the exhaustion of the late night and early wake up, you weren’t able to get back to sleep, even with Daniel there to spoon you. A knock at your door had put an end to that plan and you were reminded that everyone was getting ready to go to the lake for a day out on the water.

Everyone except Vanessa were surprised to see Daniel joining you for breakfast and you got the best pick of the cooked meal while they all fawned over the celebrity.

“Alright, alright, leave him be,” you said as you moved them along and handed him a plate you had filled before sitting on his lap. Seats were in short supply with so many people coming and going that you were happy to share one. “I know he’s a bit weird but try to treat him normally.”

“Morning, Sugar,” Nessa teased quietly as she took the seat beside him.

“Ness…meet Daniel, officially,” you said, since she had seen him on a video call.

“We met this morning, didn’t we, Sugar? Who do you think let him in? We had a great chat about you.”

She was finding it too amusing and Daniel’s shoulder bounced with a laugh as he stuffed bacon into his mouth to avoid commenting. “I thought you were joking.”

“I told you, cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled before kissing your cheek. “She didn’t tell me anything new though; I already knew you were smart and beautiful.”

“She was just saying that so she could keep the Givenchy dress she stole.”

“Pfft, not true, but I can totally play it up if you want to part with the Jimmy Choos too.” She turned her attention to Daniel who had been thoroughly enjoying the interaction while idly massaging your hip. “Did she tell you that she climbed up a tree to save a cat? The fire department gave her a medal for it. Or this one time she single-handedly stopped a bank robbery.”

“Oh my god,” you snorted at the absurdity.

“Don’t get me started on how she took down an international crime syndicate with a muscle car.”

“Who am I? Vin Diesel? Just shut up.”

“No, no, give me more,” Daniel encouraged. “I thought Lando was imaginative but this is next level.”

You could see the moment her train of thought was lost and a sly smile grew. “Think you could introduce me?”

“To Lando? No way, you would eat him alive.”

“Come on, I introduced you to Drew so you owe me.” You felt Danny’s hand stop the calming circles and wished she had kept her mouth shut as he asked who Drew was. “Andrew, her first boyfriend, well only boyfriend before you, I thought you would have known, my bad.”

Breakfast was fairly quiet after that and you knew Daniel had questions he was just waiting to ask when he got you alone. Fortunately, you could put them off for a few hours as you all set off to the lake, the distraction of you in a bikini enough to placate him in the meantime.

“So this Andrew…” he stated as he pulled you into his arms and waded out deeper into the warm water. “Why haven’t I heard about him?”

“Because it was years ago?”

“Did you love him?”

“I was 17, I didn’t know what love was,” you laughed as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he scoffed, but it was clearly a lie.

“Baby, you’re the only man I have ever loved, and the only one I will ever love - with one exception.” His eyes narrowed and you giggled as you kissed his cheek. “If we have a kid someday and it’s a boy, then I would love him too.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled with the smile that split his face. “I suppose I could live with that.”

“Good, so forget about Andrew. You are everything I want and need.”

“So long as I don’t have to cross paths with the bastard that took your innocence.”

There were only two days left before you flew back to Monaco, what were the chances?

Click here for part seven.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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whistling-birds · 1 month ago

Text

A Series of Events

These little chapters are all part of one larger story. Please enjoy! Let me know if you are interested in more. I just write these for fun, so please be nice! (Also my grammar sucks so I apologize in advance)

———————

STORY OVERVIEW: One day you randomly wake up on a planet with a Mandalorian hunting you even though you swore you were just in your bed, on Earth, the night before. Why are you being hunted? Why are you here? Is this a bigger story or just a series of random events taking place?

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: After you’ve been captured by the Mandalorian, Grogu seems to be interested in sitting with you. When he begins crying, you show Mando how to comfort and stop the kid from crying.

1. The Favor

The consistent humming of the ship engines would have been relaxing if I wasn’t so damn anxious. My heart was beating out of my chest- I actually felt it shake my entire body. It was like a drummer boy in the middle of band practice during a drum solo and I could swear that the metal knight heard it, too.

I sat there quietly as I examined the interior of the ship. I did not speak or move. I was too afraid, to be completely honest. I tried to make myself as small as possible in the copilot chair. Maybe if I willed it hard enough I would evaporate in thin air.

The cockpit was small with a giant glass window. Small lights and buzzing noises illuminated from the overwhelming amount of buttons on the dash. How did he remember which button to press or use? It was like second nature to him. This man knew exactly what he was doing as he sat in front of me and steered the ship into nothingness.

The knights body was stiff and in control like a soldier. If I moved even an inch I would have been dead in a heartbeat, so I sat there, glued to my chair.

I watched him carefully as he steered the ship through the empty vacuum of space. He was really good at it. I would have been more impressed, but he was holding me hostage, and I wasn’t going to give him any more credit than he deserved.

I don’t know how I got here. I’ve never been to space before. In fact, no human has ever been to space unless you were assigned to be a galactic soldier or happen to be royalty.

I would have been more excited, but how could I when I was handcuffed on a random spaceship? Not to mention I had no idea where this man was taking me nor did I have any memory of how I got here in the first place. One moment I was laying in my bed and the next I woke up in the middle of a desert with TWO suns.

I think I was in complete shock or denial...maybe even a bit of both? My body and mind were numb. I was afraid, but I couldn’t feel it at the moment. I became a shell of myself and tried to figure out what was going on.

If you’re wondering about space- it’s absolutely beautiful. Empty, but beautiful. There weren’t as many stars as I’d hoped, either. There wasn’t much of anything, actually. It was dark and cold and lonely like if you were to go to your school late at night with nobody around to occupy the halls. It was a strange sense of familiarity yet I had never been there before. I guess I have, just from a different perspective.

I must’ve hit my head- hard. I would say this could have been a dream, but it felt too real to be a dream. I was alive and I was awake.

“Grogu. Stop.” The metal man finally spoke. His voice was cold and altered from the helmet. He wanted to be hidden. He wanted to be a complete mystery and he succeeded.

My eyes darted towards him, but he didn’t move. His body remained in the same position the entire time: straight, stiff, and alert.

Who was he talking to?

That’s when I felt a tugging on my pants. The breath I had inhaled hitched in my throat as I slowly looked down at the culprit.

A little green goblin with three fingers gently pulled on the fabric of my pants. He had large eyes and pointy ears; he honestly resembled a gremlin or Furby.

Aliens exist?

Aliens…exist.

Oh my god, aliens exist.

What the fuck.

I blinked rapidly. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I had smoked a little too much with my friends and transcended dimensions. I would have rubbed my eyes, but my hands were cuffed together.

This had to be a joke.

The creatures big black eyes met mine as I stared down at him. I expected to have a meltdown. I expected my heart to explode out of my chest from overwhelming doom like that feeling you have right before you wake up in the middle of a nightmare.

Instead, I was met with tranquility and gentleness.

“Grogu. I said enough.” The man demanded, but Grogu did not listen, so the man directed his frustration towards me, “if you touch him you die.”

I believed him. I wasn’t going to test his patience so I nodded carefully. This man towered over me. Even in a sitting position his frame was much larger than mine. His shoulders were massive. Not to mention the fact that he was covered in armor from head to toe.

Even if I wanted to respond, Grogu jumped in my lap before I could say anything. An audible gasp left my mouth- the first sound I had made since being forced onto the ship.

The man instantly turned to face me. For the first time in hours I had the opportunity to analyze the front of his helmet. The T-shaped visor covered his eyes completely as the silver metal encapsulated his head. It was honestly beautiful, but I was in no state to admire his armor.

“I didn’t touch him I swear.” I spat out.

My body trembled in the seat. I couldn’t help myself. I tried to show him my hands, but they were still cuffed like he had originally done earlier in the day.

“Grogu.” The knight said with slight undertone of annoyance. The type of annoyance a parent gets when their child ignores their demand for the fifth time.

He had completely ignored my statement as he grabbed the alien off my lap and placed him in his own, “stay here.”

Satisfied chirping erupted from the kid as the man sat him down upon his lap. Grogu seemed happy- he was chirping and babbling like a baby. He seemed comfortable in the man’s lap…his dad’s lap? I don’t know.

Grogu was an interesting name, but not out of the ordinary here. Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard since being off Ahnkyri. I eyed Grogu as he peered over to me slightly. His large pointed ears made their way towards my direction.

I couldn’t help but smile at him. He emulated warmth and innocence, yet there was a type of wisdom that radiated off of him; as if he knew more than he could share.

“Hi, buddy.” I whispered to the kid.

I don’t know what prompted me to speak, but confidence started to grow within me. Maybe it was the kid or maybe it was me testing the waters. I don’t know, but there was something in the air. The warrior might’ve been terrifying, but if he had the child with him. He had to have some sort of empathy. Right?

Grogu’s little hands reached for me. He couldn’t touch me, we weren’t even close to begin with, but he tried. Babbling echoed from his mouth.

The gremlin brought life to the ship. A youthful sort of energy that permeated the cold decrepit steel. It was nice. If I knew more about the pair, and wasn’t cuffed, I would’ve enjoyed the laughter.

“That’s not a toy.” The man said sternly. He ripped a metal ball out of the kids hand and placed it back on the shifter of the ship.

Their dynamic was funny. He was stiff and strict while Grogu was playful and curious. They seemed to balance one another out, in turn, providing each other a sense of comfort and security they didn’t know they were missing.

The kid then turned to look at me. His eyes glimmered with mischief. Within the blink of an eye the kid appeared in my lap.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I was definitely hallucinating.

“What the hell!?” I gasped. I…did I have a heart attack? I must’ve stroked out or something because a second ago he was three feet away sitting in his father’s lap. Now he appeared in mine.

So magic existed now, too?

I was actually going crazy, I think.

I looked down at the kid who sat in my lap. His hand held onto my thumb as he tried shoving it in his mouth with satisfied babbles.

His father swiftly turned to face me once more. He grabbed the alien and placed him back in his lap. I couldn’t see his face but could sense the frustration growing.

“I didn’t touch him I swear.” My voice trembled, “what…what happened?”

I needed answers. I needed SOMETHING to explain all of the nonsense I experienced today. Two suns, a desert planet, aliens, and not to mention a damn spaceship. But he ignored me completely. He simply sat the kid back in his lap and continued steering the ship.

It didn’t last long, though, because Grogu started to cry. A shriek of sadness bounced off the hollow metal of the ship and pierced through our ears. I had heard children cry before, but nothing like this. His cries were more powerful. Way louder, too.

I hated hearing children cry. It broke my heart hopelessly listening to their wails. Grogu’s tin can of a father seemed completely ignorant to his son’s cries as he sat there.

I couldn’t see his facial expression, but his posture stiffened even more, if you could believe that.

The warrior held the child in his hands and looked at him.

“Grogu. Enough.” Was all he said, but the kid continued to cry harder and harder.

For some sort of warrior, the knight looked extremely out of place when it came to domestic life.

Seconds turned to minutes and the wailing continued to echo throughout the cabin.

“Grogu.” The man sighed.

A hint of desperation slipped through his modulated voice. He tried patting the child’s back, rocking him, even retuning the metal ball to the child, but nothing seemed to satisfy the baby.

“I could quiet him.” I spoke up.

My fragile voice exposed my inner feelings of fright. The crying was getting out of hand, though, and I could tell the frustration was building.

I saw the armored man look my way, but he did not speak.

Was he analyzing me?

Probably.

I looked at his visor and searched for his eyes, “Please. I can quiet him down. I hate hearing kids cry.”

I could sense his hesitation. Apparently I was the bad guy and was not to be trusted in this situation even though I was simply a confused person in a new world I have never been before.

“Please. Give me five minutes.” I begged at this point. Grogu’s sobs continued.

“Five minutes.” Grogu’s father barked, “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise.”

I nodded slowly processing his statement, “understood.”

It was a damn promise and I believed him. He didn’t seem like the type to joke around.

I slowly stood up from my chair and stepped closer to the pair, “I just need to be uncuffed…please.”

The man watched my every move like a damn hawk. To be fair, my eyes were on him, too. His gloved hand hovered over his holster.

“Please. So I can hold the kid properly.” I said with more need in my voice, “I’m unarmed and I can’t go anywhere…we’re in the middle of space.”

The same silence filled the room once more. I looked at him with pleading eyes. I

wasn’t going to betray him. What was I going to do? I couldn’t jump off ship. I had no idea where we were and he was my best chance at survival.

The knight nodded once. He swiftly unshackled my hands with ease.

“If you do anything stupid I won’t hesitate to shoot.” His modulated voice threatened once more.

I didn’t respond. I got it the first time he threatened me. Instead, I picked up the wailing child and held him in my arms.

“Hi, buddy. It’s okay.” I said as I began rocking him back and forth.

The child was small and soft- he fit in the nook of my arm perfectly. I tried to relax him, and kept him pressed against my body for warmth. A trail of tears stained his cheeks which allowed more tears to follow.

“No, it’s okay. Shhhh..” I said as I rocked him back and forth.

I was looking down at the child, but in my peripheral sat Grogu’s metal father. He was watching my every move. His hand was glued the gun on his hip waiting for me to make one mistake.

I had to get this kid to stop crying.

Grogu, PLEASE stop crying.

I cradled the kid more against my chest as I rocked him back and forth. My hand softly wiped his tears off his face.

“It’s okay, Grogu.” I whispered softly to him, and to my surprise, his wails turned to quiet cries. I started petting his soft ear.

Progress. Maybe singing would help?

“I see trees of green. Red roses, too. I watch them bloom for me and you, and I think to myself what a wonderful world…” I began singing to Grogu. His eyes lit up with curiosity as I watched the child soften in my arms.

I continued to sing, “I see skies of blue and clouds of white. The bright blessed days, the dark sacred nights and I think to myself what a wonderful world.”

I slowly swayed side to side and continued singing in a whisper. The song caught his attention as his big ears tilted to hear more.

My eyes slowly moved to the warrior. His helmet was glued to my direction and I could tell time was ticking.

Okay, we were getting somewhere.

After the longest minutes of my life passed, cries turned to whimpers and whimpers turned to hiccups, but I didn’t trust the kid to calm down just yet, so I went on, “The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky are also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do. They’re really saying I love you…”

Grogu relaxed more and more in my arms. His soft skin against my arm radiated warmth. It seemed like we were calming each other down.

“I hear Grogu cry…I watch him grow…he’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know and I think to myself what a wonderful world…”

Silence filled the ship once more and a relieved shaky sigh fell out of my lips. The kid liked the song. He began babbling between small sniffles as he recognized his name.

All the while the space warrior sat silently watching us.

“Good. See? Everything is okay.” I whispered to the baby. His big eyes looked up at me as I held him in my arms, “everything is okay.”

Although his tantrum seemed to dissipate I continued holding him and rocking him gently. My eyes gravitated towards the knight. He sat in his pilots chair and watched my every move in silence.

“It’s okay, Grogu.” I said once more before handing him back to his father, “everything is okay.”

Grogu sat in his father’s arms, but this time he was quiet. His tears disappeared and quiet coos filled the ship.

I cautiously sat back down in the copilots chair and suddenly realized I was still held captive in an unknown world. I may have controlled the situation for a moment, but I was not in control of this game.

Hopefully I won some brownie points for quieting and caring for his child.

Eternal moments passed. I stared out of the window into space to try and distract myself from all of the awful thoughts that consumed my brain. Where exactly was I? Why was I in trouble? Will I ever get home? Am I going to d-

“Thank you.” The warrior’s robotic voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts. He was still stern, but I could sense more sincerity after watching me care for his child.

Did I earn his trust?

My head snapped towards him from surprise. I only nodded.

His helmet analyzed me curiously as he tilted his head slightly. I couldn’t see his face, but noticed his body relax a bit. After a moment of awkward silence he turned back to the steer the ship to an unknown destination.

“It’ll be okay.” I whispered to myself, “everything will be okay.”

Part Two: Reality

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mandalorian #star wars #mando x reader #Mandalorian story #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #Grogu #mando x original female character #the mandalorian x reader #the Mandalorian/reader #din djarin/reader #work in progress #always making changes #updates

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eupheme · 6 months ago

Note

“you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me.” Or “I can’t get enough of you” / “Does that feel good?” Prompts for Edward Deegan, please :]

ahh I can’t tell you how excited I was to get a Deegan request!!! I tried to do a little something with each one you listed - they were so good, thank you!! 💖

— only you (and you alone)

edward deegan x sole!survivor!reader

rated e | <1k words

prompts: “you're mine, & i take care of what belongs to me.”/“I can’t get enough of you”/“Does that feel good?”

tags: tiny bit of cabot slander (sorry), references to ghoulification, soft smut, feelings, PiV - an exploration of deegan's feelings towards sole!reader

Maybe, in the old days, he might have been embarrassed. The bare mattress on the old, creaking bedframe - he knows you both have memories of finery. Of what romance should be, what he could never give you - still thinking you deserve better, in the silence between dusk and dawn.

Edward Deegan has seen much, in the long years he's walked the Wasteland. There wasn’t a lot that surprised him anymore - not in the two hundred and some years that had passed since this all began.

Miles trekked across the Commonwealth in those early days, until his skin burned with radiation. Skin tightening, sloughing off.

Those now-blurry days of sickness, where he had begged for it all to just end. Only to come out on the other side - forever changed, and forever living.

Forever bound to the Cabots, with all their family secrets. As loyal and fierce as a old dog, after everything they've done for him.

With you in the picture, though - that dedication tips towards something that resembles real affection.

Because tonight, he's glad for his own room - that narrow space, tucked away in the basement. It sometimes felt so small, with the wide breath of his shoulders. All that shed armor piling up at night against the trunk in the corner, pieces creeping across the cracked concrete.

Suffocating, compared to the vast house and the sprawling floors, hidden rooms. All that empty space, untouched for decades.

Edward had never said anything. He had always known his place, and it wasn't his to question. Never even occured to him to think about it, until one of your early, off-handed remarks had him bristling. An urge to defend his employers, until he realized your comment had been wrapped in concern for him.

But if his room had been bigger - if for some reason, the house had been his for the night - then he wouldn't be so wrapped up in you now. He likes the way you cling to him, laid out bare beneath him on his bed and looking like you belong there.

Edward had always been good with hunches, but he still can't believe the luck that had led him to meeting you outside Bunker Hill. How he had been curious, and then pleasantly surprised - again, a rarity - when your reputation held strong.

When you had stuck around, after.

And then once more, when you had boldly stepped over the line of hired help, and became something more.

Always so good at following orders - and you do so here, too. Lips parted on a sigh as you answer his commands.

“Does that feel good? Tell me, doll.”

He always wants to know, and you always answer.

“Yes. So good baby, don’t stop-”

Now, with the walls closing in, your moans echo. Music to his ears, his own sounds bitten back and swallowed, so he can hear more of yours.

How they fill the small space, surrounding him like your embrace. The strong grip of your soft hands, where they anchor against his shoulder, the curve of his neck. Clinging to him as he grinds himself deep into the tight clench of your cunt.

Making every second count.

These visits too few and far between. His loyalties lie here, his trips outside governed.

You’re already stretched thin, making a name for yourself. But you always end up finding your way back here, if only for a night.

Things he won’t say out loud, because he can already see your expression - the anger held in the pull of your brow, the narrowed slit of your eyes. A look so often thrown at others, but so rarely at him.

You had never batted an eye at any of it. Of his arrangement, of him.

If it was good enough for him, if he was there, it was good enough for you.

Always enough.

And as he brings his mouth down to yours - he feels how your heart mirrors his. Pounding beneath your skin, under the careful press of his thumb where his broad hand spans your throat.

Your lips greedily meeting his, hips rocking to meet the grindof his hips. Sighing with the soft swipe of your tongue against his, pulling back to murmur soft words and praise and his name - all things that will have to keep him until next time.

He’s never owned much, but tonight you’re his.

And he always takes care of what belongs to him.

His fingers swirl against your clit, tight circles that have you moaning into his mouth. Thighs tightening where they hook around his hips, urging him deeper. Your nails biting into the meat of his shoulders, pinching with each pound of his cock.

His cheek brushes against your nose, as he allows himself to want.

Committing to memory the sound of your cry as it breaks - pitching high, as you tremble beneath him. A warmth that starts somewhere behind his ribs before it pools low in his belly - feeling the way you flutter around his aching cock for the second time that night.

He’ll aim for one more before sunrise.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

It’s a confession - murmured quietly into your hair, unheard as you drift back down.

And just this once - he wishes for something more.

ahh anon thanks so much for sending this in! I love him & was so excited to get this!! 💖 and thank you so much for reading!!

#edward deegan x sole survivor #edward deegan x reader #edward deegan x sole #edward deegan x you #fallout smut #edward deegan

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shujohajohaminnie · 1 year ago

Text

Pink Pandas

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, Fluffy

Word Count: 3071

Summary: What happens when you come to find out the man you’ve had a crush on for the longest time also shares those same feelings for you?

Afab!reader, Profanity, Pet names(Baby) Public sex kink, Raw sex (Wrap it before you tap it).

Surprise at the end

You sighed turning yet again in the bed that felt twenty times bigger. You touched his side confirming his absence. Reluctantly you got off the bed making your way out of your shared bedroom. Immediately opening the door you were exposed to the scene of the boys all sleeping on your couch and living room floor. Even with them having their own dorms they were still usually over at your place. You fixed the blanket to cover a shivering I.N’s body before you made your way to the room he spent most of his time in. Of course, he was there, the computer illuminated his face in the very dark room, one headphone on, to be on high alert just in case you or the kids needed him, but even then all of his attention was on the screen.

“Chris?” Nothing, he was ‘in the zone’ like he’d call it. “Chan?” You walked towards him tapping his shoulder. He gasped jumping in his seat, his hand grasping his chest as he turned to look at you completely in shock. Yeah, this was the man who was going to defend you against harm. “Baby?” he whispered walking past you to turn on the studio light. “What are you doing up” “I can’t sleep” You whispered leaning your head on his chest. He laughed wrapping his arms around you. “Why not” “I can’t sleep if you're not in bed with me” “I know I know baby, but I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind so I figured I’d try to distract myself with some song-making” “Do you wanna go on a drive to clear your head” “That would really help me”. You smiled pulling away and walked towards the door, grabbing the car keys. He laughed behind you taking the keys from your grasp. “I’ll drive baby, we need to come back home alive” “Why are you so sure that I’m a terrible driver” “Because remember what happened last time you drove” “How many times do I have to say it, it wasn’t my fault” “Your right baby… that sideway shouldn’t have been there”

His hand gripped the wheel while his other held yours over your thigh. “Are you okay?” You asked looking out the window. Nothing, yet again.“Chan” Nothing, You turned to see him just staring at the red traffic light. What was he thinking about? The light turned green but he wouldn’t go. “Chris” Nope. “Christopher!” The car behind you honked pulling him out of his head, he quickly hit the gas going straight, destination unknown. You let go of his hand running yours through your hair. “Whats wrong” he asked turning to look at you. “You… what’s wrong with you?” “Nothings wrong with me” “Chris… I’m not blind. When something’s wrong you detach… and you're not here with me. Where are you, what's up?” “I just have a lot of things on my mind-” “You said that” You sighed turning to look out the window again. You weren’t mad, you were worried. Lately, you’ve been seeing less and less of your boyfriend, he’s been working like crazy on the newest comeback. But you were worried maybe he’d been overworking too much. He hasn’t been sleeping well, You don’t know how he's eating since he usually spends his time either in the JYP building or in his studio in your shared apartment. It was starting to affect you in a way. Your mind wanders like usual already but when he’s not laying in bed next to you how can you ensure that he’s safe, or he won't pass out yet again from malnourishment? The only way you could make sure he was okay was if you could feel him, and he was with you physically but not mentally. “Pull into this parking lot please” You spoke softly pointing to the parking lot of the supercenter. This was a very popular store but at this unholy hour, the space around you was basically empty.

“We must look weird parked in the way back of the parking lot at 3 a.-” “Don’t bullshit me right now Chris… are you okay?” You cut him off turning to look at him once more. He looked guilty, he looked like a child being scolded by his mother for getting a bad grade. He was caught, he couldn’t hide it anymore. “No” he whispered looking down away from your eyes scared that you’d see right through him and see what really was eating at him. You were taken aback. It was extremely rare that Chan would admit that he wasn’t okay. To anyone. His favorite answer to that question being the typical “I’m fine”. “I’m not okay” he said out loud. You heard him, but he wasn’t saying it to you, but to himself. He was accepting that he wasn’t fine. “You don’t have to tel-” “I’m just so stressed with everything going on… I told them I could take it all, dance practice, recording, then working my ass off to go back to those tracks fix a little here, and a little there and now with-”. He looked up at you, he almost sold himself out. “And now?” “It’s nothing” he brushed it off, turning to look at the bright lights of the store’s sign.

You knew he wasn’t cheating, you crossed that off the list right away. For two reasons, he was far too busy to produce, record, practice, spend time with you, and now someone else? There were frankly not enough hours in the day to handle anymore. Reason number two being he loved you, he really did. You noticed it, in the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he treated you. He made it very known that he loved you oh so much. So what the hell was this ‘and now’ situation? Was it something with work? Was it something with you? You could go about this in two ways, you could either get it out of him or you could wait until he told you at his own pace, when he felt like telling you. Would your overthinking self go insane knowing there was something else he wasn’t telling, yes.

“What could I do” You sighed taking the high road. You slowly grabbed his hand interlocking your fingers. He turned to look at you once more visible tears in his eyes. This next addition to his problems was eating him alive, but you didn’t want to be the annoying girlfriend who forced everything out of him. You both believed in privacy in your lives, so you weren’t going to cross a boundary just for your sake. All you could do was hope he’d tell you soon. “I don’t know” he finally said grazing his finger over your hand. Of course, in typical Bang Christoper Chan manner, he was going to try to comfort you, even though he was the one that needed it. If he didn’t know how you could help him, you surely didn’t. “Maybe a hug?” You suggested turning your whole body to face him. “It’s a start” he forced a smile pushing his seat all the way back to give you space to crawl into his lap. You embraced him letting his head rest in your chest while you stroked his hair whispering sweet confessions of your love and support towards him.

"What would I do without you?" "You'd be just fine" "No I wouldn't… I'd crash and burn" As much as romance movies romanticized that line the sad reality was that it wasn't romantic. Not even in the slightest. It was scary, having to picture the person you love the most 'crashing and burning' just because they couldn't be with you for whatever reason. "I'd be okay" he whispered, noticing the gears in your head turning. He knew you, you were his other half of course he knew that you'd be overthinking his comment. He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment with you. It was moments like that he held dear to his heart. "I don't want to be without you, but I'd be okay… sad, but okay" he whispered his hands resting on your lower back drawing small circles on the exposed skin. " I don't want to be without you either Channie" "Then don't" he smirked kissing you. You felt him grow hard underneath you, obviously taking in your surroundings you pulled away both of you gasping for air. He whined feeling you trying to escape his grasp wanting to go back to your seat. He held you down though, his hold on you being way stronger than your attempts. “Chan someone could see” “Let them see”. You looked at him shocked, he took this moment to place chaste kisses on your neck. He’s always said crazy things like this, like the time the waiter was flirting with you during dinner. Chan was visibly jealous and as much as he tried to show that you were his, by wrapping his hand around you or kissing your lips the waiter wouldn’t give up. So he whispered in your ear low enough so the boys wouldn’t hear his sinful comment. “I’ll bend you over right now and fuck you in front of him so he can see who you belong”. Or like the time that you two went walking in the park at night to clear your heads and he sat in you in his lap on the park bench grinding his hard member into your clothed pussy, begging you to let him fuck you, in public for everyone to see. But those were all jokes, He wasn’t being serious, right?

“Chan” You moaned feeling his fingers draw circles on your clit over your sleep shorts. “Chan we can’t” You moaned melting into his touch. “Baby you’re giving me mixed signals” He laughed pulling his hand away to rest on your thighs. “Do you really want me to stop” You looked around taking in the fact that no one was really around. “Fuck it” You kissed him while your hands traveled down to his sweatpants pulling them down to let his dick spring out. He went back to continue his previous movements and you shook your head pushing his hands away. “Baby what's wrong I’m just gonna stretch you out” “Skip it I’m wet enough, I need you now” “Are you sure” “Mhmm just fuck me channie”. Hearing you call him in these kinds of situations always drove him insane. He positioned you over him pulling your shorts to the side once more allowing you to sink down on him. He watched your face contort into one of pure bliss and pleasure. While you were in fact wet enough you still should've allowed him to prep you a bit. You felt yourself split into two in the best way possible on his throbbing cock. He needed you just as much as you did but he also needed to make sure that you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “Tell me when baby” he grunted really fighting himself to thrust up into you. You nodded resting your face in the crook of his neck to hide yourself, just in case someone was watching you. “C-chris… you can move” You spoke against the skin of his neck. You began to pepper his neck with kisses, you so badly wanted to mark him so everyone could see that he was taken, that he was your ma-. “Mark me baby” “But what about-” “The makeup artist can cover it up, remember when they covered up the scratches you left behind that one time” He grunted thrusting up into you with every word he spoke. You obliged leaving behind hickies on his neck and chest for the world to see.

The windows were fogging, your minds were completely mush at the overpowering feeling of pleasure the both of you were feeling. You threw your head back as you felt his hands on your ass gripping tight for better leverage. Your body had gone completely limp he was doing all the work by bringing you up and down on his dick like a lifeless sex doll. Occasionally checking up on to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. “You okay baby” “Mhmm feels so good channie�� Making me feel so good” You moaned grabbing his shoulders for stability. He worked one hand down to your clit drawing you even closer to your high. “Channie I’m close” “Me too baby… hold it for me yeah, Can you hold it for me baby, Can you hold it for channie” You nodded bitting your bottom lip looking down at his fingers playing with you. You tightened around him trying your best to wait for him but you just couldn’t. You cummed around him feeling even less in control of your body you rested your head on his chest as he continued to fuck you. “Fuckkk” He grunted throwing his head back, as he quickly pulled out of you cumming on both of your clothes. “Fuck I’m sorry” “Shit what are we gonna do now” “I mean we could go back home” “And risk the kids seeing us with cum on our clothes” “Shit your right” The both of you caught your breath trying to come up with a solution. In sync, you two looked at the store in front of you and then back at each other. “We’ll be in and out” “Okay but we need to be quick, we can’t risk dispatch seeing us like this, imagine how much trouble you’d be in” “Yeah imagine how much trouble I’d be in for having sex with my beautiful girlfriend oh my god” he said sarcastically rolling his eyes. He really did hate how there was an unrealistic expectation held up for him and anyone in the industry. They were only human and they had to do human things. Poor boys couldn’t even yawn on camera.

He put his hoodie up and put on a mask to disguise himself, holding your hand and guiding you, you stood behind him. Yeah, there was cum on him but it was worse on you. You two both made it to the girl section first, you saw something that he obviously didn’t. Quickly you walked away from him and grabbed the onesie and then picked one in his size. Not noticing you gone Chan went to the guy section his mind also seeing the onesies section. “Okay, baby quickly look for a good one” No answer. “Y/n” he turned around confused at your silence, only to notice your absence. “Y/n?!” “Okay, so I may have found the perfect one” You laughed walking towards him hiding something behind your back. “Baby hide yourself someone can see” “Calm down Chris… there's literally no one here” You laughed getting closer to him. He tried to peek at what you were hiding only for you to back up and conceal it more. “Nuh uh… patience babe… close your eyes” “Baby” “I’ll only show you if you close your eyes and show me your hands” “But I already have one in mind” “Christopher Bahng” “Yes ma’am” he closed his eyes holding out his hands. You placed the onesie in his size in his open hands smiling. “You may open” He opened his eyes looked down then closed his eyes again. “Y/n I’m giving you three seconds to get this away from me” “But it’s cute” You laughed taking it from his hands and holding it up so he could see it in all it’s glory. He opened his eyes rolling his eyes at the sight. “It’s very pink” It was in fact very pink, knowing his obvious distaste towards color you had to pick it. You didn’t notice all the details at first, but after paying very close attention to the pajama you notice the pink fluffy tutu the words princess written across the chest, and the crown on the hood. It was perfect. “Put that down and help me find a wolf onesie” “But what about this don’t you want to be a pretty princess” “I’m gonna have to pass”

“Nope, babe sorry just these” You sighed holding out the panda onesies. "Pandas? Are you sure there aren't any wolves" “I’m sure it’s either the pandas or the princess onesies” “But-” “Hey you're the one who cummed on both our outfits so pick one” “Fine… the pandas it is” “Fuck I really wanted the pink one” “Maybe next time baby” “Do you plan on cumming on my pj’s again” “Maybe” He quickly paid and led you both out of the store back to the car where you both changed into your new outfit discarding the old clothes into his back seat.

You looked in the mirror laughing at the way your hair was a mess after changing, and Chan looked at you with pure love and devotion as you fixed it. “This” He whispered going into the glove compartment of the car, pulling out a tiny black velvet box. “This is what was on my mind. . . It’s been on my mind lately how much I love you and how I want to take that next step with you, I can’t imagine a life without you, and I know more than anything that we’re ready for this new stage, but I’ve been stressing on how to make it perfect… for my perfect girl” It was your turn for tears to form in your eyes as you looked at him, then at the box, then back at him. “Chirs…. This is perfect” “Really” “Mhmm” You bit your lip to fight back tears. “Well in that case” he smiled opening the box to reveal the most perfect, most beautiful-looking ring you’ve ever seen. You couldn’t stop them anymore, tears were falling down your face for sure now. He noticed taking his thumb to wipe them away. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n would you make me the happiest man and marry me” “Yes”.

#skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz x you #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut

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peachessndreamss · 2 months ago

Text

Private Bennett's Lover - Part 1

Summery : When Tom sneaks into a party he's not been invited too he meets the wife of the Vice Admiral of the Fleet and starts on a path that can only end in heartbreak.

Characters : Tom Bennett x Married!Female OC Mrs Randall

Warnings : Canon typical language

Word count : 5K

A/N : I cannot tell you how long I've been working on this and how unfinished it still is. But I wanted to share at least some of it, ideally this will be a three part series so watch this space! Much Love to @a-fall-of-stars who knew this story when all I had was an idea and a screenshot of a gif set

Series Masterlist l peachessndreamss Masterlist

Through the tiny crack in the barely open office door it couldn’t have been more obvious that Tom Bennett was completely and utterly out of his comfort zone, and Tom was the sort of person who prided himself on being able to be comfortable just about anywhere. But the view this evening had sweat gathering at his hairline and under his collar and had created an uncomfortable burning sensation in his throat, but he didn’t dare try to clear it for fear of being caught.

When Private Bennett had seen the line of large and shiny cars rolling past the barracks towards The Big House his interest had been piqued and when a fellow private explained the Vice Admiral enjoyed throwing lavish parties in the house, despite there being a war on, Tom felt his feet itching and his mind ticking and before he knew it he was crossing the dark expanse of the lawns toward The Big House and slipping inside through a window with a broken lock.

Once inside he’d crept through the darkened passages toward the sounds of music, clinking glasses and the rumble of polite conversation. The house was, by a mile, the grandest home Tom had ever been in. The carpet on the floor was so thick he’d felt his shoes sink into it as he walked, every wall was hung with paintings, endless landscapes and portraits watched Tom as he moved between the shadows, being drawn toward the party that was taking place in the ballroom.

Tom found an open door along a quiet corridor that led into the Vice Admiral’s study, the room was richly furnished, the walls covered with bookshelves and the space dominated by a desk Tom was fairly certain was bigger than his childhood bedroom.

Tom cracked the second door to the study which opened to the house's main hallway and gave him a view of the party while remaining unnoticed by anyone else. He watched for more than half an hour as the party carried on, the champagne was flowing freely as the guests talked in small groups or dipped in and out of the ballroom. Tom could only see a small portion of the ballroom but was able to catch sight of couples dancing to the music of a quartet.

Tom had been to a fair number of parties and dances in his life but this was something else, like something from another world or a bygone era. In the village, only a mile away, he knew people would be going to bed hungry and in the barracks just over the crest of the hill, young men were waiting for orders that might end their lives but in The Big House none of that was real and the only thing that mattered was a full glass of champagne.

Tom could feel his skin starting to prickle with anger when the door behind him creaked open and the room was briefly filled with light. He whipped around, his eyes wide and his mouth dry, his heart thundering as he stared like a cornered animal, finding himself no longer alone.

Mrs Randall had expected to find her husband's, the Vice Admiral of the Fleet’s, office empty. In truth, she was hoping to find it empty, she wanted to find a quiet and dark space in which to gather herself and take a much needed rest from the party taking place in her home.

However the study wasn’t empty and an icy chill ran down her spine as her eyes met those of the stranger’s.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a horse whisper.

She stared at the man, too frightened to take her eyes away from his face. If she screamed she knew she’d have help before the stranger would have a chance to cross the room to do her any harm but the thought of screaming was far from her mind as she saw her own fear reflected on his face.

When he didn’t reply she straightened her back a little and spoke in the voice she’d been trained to use on badly behaved staff members.

“Why are you in my study?” she demanded.

Tom couldn’t help his face breaking into a grin when he’d seen the woman stand up a little straighter and use a harsher voice on him. He realised he wasn’t in immediate danger of being discovered by anyone that scared him so he decided to fall back on his charm to ensure he got out of the house with minimal trouble.

“Jus’ wanted to see ‘ow the other ‘alf live,” he replied with a shrug, playing up his northern accent which was in complete contrast to her own voice.

She scoffed quietly before she moved further into the room and flicked on a small desk lamp.

“Have you come from the barracks?” she asked.

The electric light was dim but golden and the room suddenly glowed, the light bouncing off the brass fixtures and the highly polished dark wood furniture. The man stood on the edge of the pool of light but it still caught his features, revealing a sharp chin and soft lips. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and his golden hair glinted in the light.

“How did you get in here?” she asked when he remained silent.

He shrugged again and moved his head from side to side, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the woman.

“Broken lock,” he admitted before pausing briefly, “window on the east side, three from the kitchen door,”.

She nodded, the two of them still not taking their eyes from each other. They were like two nervous animals, not willing to look away out of fear and out of interest. Tom let his eyes flick up and down her body.

The long gown she’d worn was nothing like he'd ever seen before. He'd seen his fair share of girls in and out of their best frocks at the dances he used to attend back home but she was something else. He might have mistaken her for royalty, there was a small jewelled tiara on her head after all. Other jewels sparkled at her neck and wrists and the fabric of her dress caught and reflected the light right back at him.

“Well, thank you for letting me know,” she replied softly, “But perhaps it's best you go back now."

Tom's eyebrow quirked upwards, surprised by her quickly she'd gotten control of herself and retained a cool head and calm demeanour.

Tom would have guessed that before she’d been married she’d never been alone with a man, and could probably count on one hand the amount of times since, if she were scared you gave no outward indication.

“Or I could stay a while, we could ‘ave a chat?” He offered with an upward quirk of his lips.

She gave a quiet laugh and a small shake of her head before stepping further into the room, closer to where Tom was standing by the main study doors. She could hear the music from the ballroom and the soft, lilting laughter of feminine voices.

"And what would we talk about?” she asked.

He shrugged again.

“Perhaps we should start with introductions? Name and that?”

She smiled and gave him her first name before adding “Mrs Randall, the Vice Admiral's wife,” she stepped forward offering her hand out to him to shake.

Tom nodded and took the proffered hand, instead of shaking it he brought it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Private Tom Bennett,” he said, “Pleasure to meet you,” his lips still almost brushing the soft, warm back of her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Private Bennett,” she replied, pulling her hand out of his grip. The place his lips had touched her skin felt burnt, like if she looked at it, she’d still see the shape of his kiss marking the skin.

“Please Mrs Randall, call me Tom,” he smirked, “All my friends do."

“Then please, let us both use our first names, like friends,” she replied.

“Not “my lady” or anything like that?” He teased with a smile.

“Certainly not, I'm not a Lady." She said with a firm shake of her head. The movement caused the diamonds sitting in her hair to flash and sparkle as they caught the soft light.

Tom ran his tongue over his bottom lip and he took in her appearance again. At a glance she would have easily been mistaken for royalty and wouldn't have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace.

“So, how come you're hiding in the study rather than out there?” He asked.

“I needed a moment alone,” she replied, touching her cool hand to her flushed cheeks and forehead, “There’s only some much champagne and small talk I can take."

“Well please accept my apologies. For both disturbing your peace and for the hard times you find yourself suffering through,” he replied dryly with a roll of his eyes, watching as her whole body stiffened and her eyes narrowed on him.

“Apology noted,” her voice was icy.

Tom chuckled and shook his head, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter.

“May I?” He asked.

“Only if you share,” she replied, the ice appearing to have melted from her tone, she stepped closer again to take a cigarette from the packet he held out.

She placed the unlit cigarette into her mouth and Tom flicked the lighter on, touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette while she breathed in. Her husband considered women smoking to be offensive and unbecoming, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She took a drag as Tom lit his own cigarette. Her husband smoked cigars in his study so the smell would go unnoticed and there was an ashtray at hand.

“I've seen you, you know,” she said, flicking ash in the general direction of the ashtray, “The assault course you boys run, it runs along the garden wall and from my dressing room I can see everything."

Tom opened his mouth to speak but she continued, looking between the burning tip of the cigarette and the man in front of her.

“You know some Privates bring girls for the village round there? There's a little shady spot just a few meters back from the path I've seen them disappearing into,” her eyes fixed on him, “I wonder what they get up to back there?”

Tom swallowed and flicked the ash off the end of his own cigarette.

“Wouldn't know,” he said with a shrug, “But I heard there's a lot of poison ivy in the bushes, next time I see someone scratching, I'll ask."

“And ‘ow are you so certain you've seen me out there?” He asked after a beat of silence, “Surely us lot all look the same to you?”

She shrugged and took a drag, smoke curling out of her mouth and disappearing into the air above the two of them. “Some of you are more memorable than others.”

Tom grinned before crushing his finished cigarette in the ashtray. He lifted the heavy piece of glass and offered it to her. She crushed her own cigarette beside his. From outside the study the sound of her name being called reached her ears.

She recognised her husband's voice and felt her heart rate increase. She took hold of Tom by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him deeper into the room, flicking off the desk lamp and plunging the room into darkness again. Her husband's voice grew louder as he moved nearer the door, he seemed to stop right outside to speak to someone before moving off again and in the direction of the kitchens. Of course that was where he thought he'd find his wife, it's certainly where he believed her and the rest of her sex belonged.

She suddenly became aware of how close she and Tom were, how his breath was ghosting past the shell of her ear as the two of them stood silent and still in the darkness.

“I take it he wasn’t your choice of, um, dancing partner?” Tom whispered.

She looked into his piercing blue eyes, it could have been a perfectly innocent question, if it weren’t for the crushing weight of the true answer. She felt her body chill and a familiar mask of cold indifference fell over her features. She straightened up again, pulling her body away from his.

So little of her life had been of her choosing. As a child her father had ruled her life with an iron fist, and like iron he had never once bent or broken once his mind was set on something. From her schooling, her summers and her friends, her father had controlled every single day of her life until he'd handed her over to a husband of his choosing at the altar.

A man 25 years her senior who had effortlessly replaced her father as the single most influential person in her life. From the wine they drank with dinner, to her allowance for clothing to how often she could drive the car, every choice was made for her by the Vice Admiral, as if she were simply a sailor in his navy.

“Not always,” she replied, her voice haughty than it had been before, “but I make do,”.

Tom quirked an eyebrow toward his hair line before stepping back with a grin and sitting himself on the edge of the large mahogany desk, the old wood didn’t bend or groan under his weight like the cheap furniture in the barracks. A thought flickered across his mind that his desk probably cost more than his family home.

“How long have you been married?” he asked, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of himself and crossing them at his ankles.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied coldly, before crossing her arms over her chest and hugging her crossed limbs against her body.

“Come on now, I thought we were friends? We’re on a first name basis after all.".

She narrowed her eyes at him, she was usually an exceptionally private person, after having grown up with very few friends she’d never learned to gossip or grown accustomed to sharing her thoughts and feelings with a close knit group and as an only child she hadn’t even had a sibling to confide in. But tonight, as if gripped by madness she found herself answering, her usual withdrawn nature opened up by this handsome stranger.

“18 months,” she told him.

“Not quite the fairy tale you were expecting?” He asked.

“I never expected a fairy tale,” she snapped, drawing her arms even tighter to her body, her hands gripping the opposite elbow.

“You’re dressed like one,” Tom said, letting his eyes travel up and down her body.

She scoffed, feeling her skin prickle under his brazen gaze, she knew she was attractive enough and with the right outfit and a touch of rouge she was pretty but 18 months in a loveless marriage had shown her nothing of desire or need but she felt sure there was something of those foreign, base instincts in his blue eyes. Desperately needing something, anything to do with her body she leaned past him to pick up the packet of cigarettes he'd placed beside him on the desk. She took another one and lit it.

“You'd find me quite dowdy if you went out there and saw some of the other wives,” she took a long drag on the cigarette, falling back on the self deprication she’d learned pleased her father and husband, “out there you'd never know there was a war on,”.

“I was thinking the same about in here,” he said, glancing at the opulent surroundings.

“Well, it’s you who wanted to see how the other half lived after all,” she replied, the corners of her mouth peeking up as she fought to keep her icy demeanour.

“And I think I might have seen enough,” Tom said with a smirk as he stood, gathering his cigarette packet and giving it a small shake, the cigarettes inside bumped onto the side of the packet and each other, “and you're about to finish me fags,”.

“You'll forgive me, I'm sure." she replied, letting her arms fall down to her sides again.

“I'm sure,” Tom agreed as he stood, taking a small step to stand in front of her.

He reached down, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the back of her hand in a soft caress.

“Til the next time,” he said, his voice soft and low, “My lady,” he added with a wink before slipping past her and out the door she'd entered in.

The scent of her lingered like a fog around Tom as he slipped, unseen through the corridors and passages back to the broken window and out in the cold night air. From either side no one would ever know the window was broken and he found himself hoping Mrs Randall wouldn’t be rushing to get it fixed.

He made his way back across the lawns toward his barracks. Tom had been stationed at this stone frigate for 3 months and each and every day he had hoped to get orders from the Vice Admiral they would be going out to sea, to one of the great grey warships he could see from the back of the barracks, sitting in the harbour mouth.

There was no moon in the sky that night and Tom had to make his way back to his quarters by starlight, he hoped the extra darkness would mean less of a chance to be caught out of bed quite so late.

Luck was not on Tom’s side that night and the moment his foot crossed the threshold of his quarters a bright beam of light shone directly into his face, Tom squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his forearm up to shield his eyes from the burning beam.

“Well, well, well Private Bennett,” a cold voice spoke from the darkness, “now, where might you have been?”

Tom lied of course, claiming he’d been in the village having a drink in the local pub, while his Lieutenant Commander didn’t believe him for a moment and he couldn't prove Tom was lying or offer another more plausible explanation for the private being out of bed so late.

Tom’s punishment was being confined to the stone frigate for the next month, he would not be allowed to enjoy any shore leave, which meant no trips to the local village and no chance to chat to the local girls. He would instead be given menial tasks to complete, usually something pointless that no one else wanted to do.

The first weekend of his punishment he was called to the Lieutenant Commander’s office. Tom held a deep dislike for the pinched faced, grey coloured man sitting behind the desk

“They need some help up at The Big House,” the Lieutenant Commander started without preamble, “I seem to recall you being fairly useful with your hands, so I thought you could go up there and, well make yourself useful,” his clipped accent made the hair on the back of Tom’s neck stand up.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and opened his mouth to speak but the Lieutenant Commander continued as if Tom wasn’t even in the room.

“Report up at The Big House today and tomorrow for your tasks. Ask for Bill,”

“Yes, Sir,” Tom said before saluting and leaving the room.

He took his time making his way up to The Big House, stopping by his bunk first to collect a fresh pack of cigarettes before making his way slowly toward the house. The day was bright and Tom was enjoying the sun on his face as he walked over the immaculately kept lawn. He wondered as he walked if he'd be fixing the very window lock he’d used to break in a few days before, thinking of the window led him to thinking about the lady of the house and he hoped he might run into her again.

He wanted to know what she looked like when she wasn’t wearing jewels and silks. He wanted to see if he could make her laugh, he wanted to know if she made a habit of sharing cigarettes with strangers or hiding from her husband.

At the back door of the house Tom asked a kitchen girl where he might find Bill and was directed to one of the low outbuildings that made up a small courtyard at the back of the house. Bill was a grizzled old man with a voice like tires crunching over gravel and one hand missing.

Bill wasted no time in telling Tom he’d lost the hand during the Great War and how the navy had taken care of him since, not that Tom had asked.

Tom was quickly put to work in a large, empty room on the west side of the house. The room’s ceiling was at least 12 feet high and had floor to ceiling windows that gave a sweeping view of the green valley and glittering open sea beyond. On the water, small boats dashed back and forth across the mouth of the harbour and large grey warships sat further out to sea. Beyond the warship the sea and sky merged into one at the horizon.

After enjoying the view for a moment Tom set to the list of tasks he’d been given, the work was mindless and menial, oiling locks, cleaning and buffing brass work and a few minor repairs.

Tom was winding the grandfather clock at the far end of the room when the double doors at the other end opened, the doors moved almost silently on the hinges he’d oiled but the sudden movement made him look up and he couldn’t stop his face breaking into a grin when he saw who stood between the now open doors.

“We must stop meeting like this."

He watched with rye amusement as Mrs Randall fought the smile that played on the corners of her lips.

“Shall I bother asking you why you’re in my ballroom?” she asked, “Or how you got in here?”

“’m being punished,” Tom replied with a shrug as he closed the door on the grandfather clock that was now ticking merrily, “And I used the back door. You can ask your handy man if you want.”

“And what are you being punished for?”

“Caught out of bed after ligh’s out,”

She laughed quietly, the old floorboards creaking under her feet as she made her way further into the room, letting her feet carry her towards one of the large windows. As she gazed through the glass Tom allowed himself a moment to look at her. The dress she wore today was far more practical and ordinary but the dark green colour suited her, she wore shoes with small heels that tapped on the floor as she walked and no diamonds to be seen.

“I hope you feel it was worth it,” she replied, stopping at the window that gave the most central view of the valley below. She crossed her arms over her chest, curling her palms over the opposite elbow, Tom recognised the gesture from the previous night they’d met.

“I’ve had worse evenings.” Tom replied with a shrug and grin.

“I should apologise,” she started, turning toward Tom, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, “I spoke out of turn the other night and I don’t want you to think I’m… ungrateful for the position I find myself in."

He shrugged before taking a tentative step toward her, not wanting to scare her into bolting from the room. There was something intoxicating to Tom about being alone with his woman, she should have been as unattainable to him as the moon was but she was right here, in the same room as him, barely 6 feet away.

“We don’t 'ave to like the hand we’re dealt,” Tom said, the softness in his voice surprising even him, “but you can make it up to me with an invite to your next party,” he added with a grin and a wink.

Tom was thrilled when she gave a small chuckle, the sound making the hair on Tom’s forearms prickle and stand to attention. She dropped her arms away from her middle, looking a little more relaxed than she had the moment before.

“Somehow I think my insisting you receive an invitation to the Admirals next do might raise more than a few questions and cause even more trouble,” she replied.

Oh, what’s life without a little bit of trouble?” Tom teased stepping closer again.

“I take it you’re no stranger to trouble then Tom?”.

“No, I’m just a bloody nuisance,” he grinned.

Mrs Randall chuckled again, her eyes moving slowly and shyly over Tom’s face, taking in his features in the bright light of day. In the dark of the study he’d been handsome but in the sunlight filled ballroom he was beautiful, the type of face that Michaelangelo would have immortalised in marble.

“I can believe that,”

Tom leaned casually against a small section of wall that separated two of the windows, the wallpaper was a creamy colour with swirling patterns picked out in pastel shades of gold. He half expected her to reprimand him for leaning his dirty shoulder on her wall but she didn’t comment, just kept her eyes on him.

“What does the lady of the ‘ouse do at the weekend then?” he asked.

“I’m balancing the books today,” she replied, “it’s dull work and I’m dreadful at it,”.

“What no garden party to attend? No invite to Buckin’am Palace?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, her lips turned up into a smile that made her eyes sparkle.

“Just me and the accounts today, Buckingham Palace is next weekend,” she replied with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“‘S’pect those books might be better company than that lot at Buckin’am Palace anyway,”.

“They certainly talk less, but they still manage to give me a headache either way,”.

From behind them the grandfather clock Tom had service chimed 4pm, reminding the pair of them of the world outside the peaceful room they found themselves in.

“I must be going,” Mrs Randle said reluctantly, “It’s been a pleasure to see you again Tom,”.

“Pleasures all mine,” he replied with a wink and was thrilled to see her cheeks staining bright red as she turned toward the still open double doors of the ballroom.

He stared after her for a few seconds once she disappeared from his view and he felt a familiar tingling of anticipation. When it came to women he enjoyed the chase almost as much as he enjoyed his prize at the end but there was something different about this and about her and while Tom had no idea what that might be it excited him all the same. He found it very difficult to return to the list of tasks he still had to complete but forced himself to continue, if for no other reason than to ensure he’d get to return next week.

After excusing herself, Mrs Randle headed to the privacy of her study to continue her mind numbing task of ensuring the household ledgers balanced. The windows of her study offered a panoramic view of the west lawns and the gently sloping valley beyond. In the distance she could see the small houses of the village, smoke curled out of the chimneys and she could just make out a few sailors making their way back to barracks after their Saturday trip to the pub.

After an hour or so of looking over the accounts the numbers in the books seemed to start to wriggle about on the page and no matter how carefully she totted up the totals she couldn’t make the books balance. After rubbing out another incorrect total she finally admitted defeat and slammed the heavy, leather bound book closed and stood up.

She’d already decided to ask the housekeeper to go over the accounts and didn’t see any point in torturing herself with the fruitless task any longer. She knew it would be alright as long as the books were balanced by the end of the month when the Vice Admiral got his hands on them.

She took hold of the book and headed toward the staff quarters; there was a concealed door in the library that took her down a short flight of steps and along a cool, dark corridor to the housekeeper's office.

The sound of excited young voices could be heard from the staff dining room and she slowed to listen to the conversation. There was a pang of jealousy and longing as the voices of two of the young housemaids chattered and giggled behind the door.

“Did y’see him? He was up in the ballroom?” one voice rushed.

“He’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” another voice continued with the longing sigh.

“I saw him wink at Mrs Randall! Twice! Can you believe the cheek of him?!” the first voice said incredulously.

“I hope he comes back, I heard Bill saying he wasn’t allowed off the frigate for 3 weeks,” the second voice said in the same dreamy tone.

There was another round of giggling before she stepped away from the door and carried on toward the housekeepers office. Mrs Randall had no problem believing Tom Bennett would be exceptionally successful with the female members of staff, he’s already proved himself to be fairly successful with herself after all.

She knocked briskly on the housekeeper's door, the large book still clutched to her chest with her other arm and her mind full of Tom Bennett.

#tom bennett #world on fire #tom bennett x OC #tom bennett fanfiction #ewanverse #ewan mitchell

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snitchcrimsonwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Maybe pt. 7

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Norm navigates his decision to aid Lucy's escape from the Vault with help from his friends, finding comfort and another demotion on the table.

Part 1 Here. Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 4 Here Part 10 Here

Part 5 Here Part 11 Here

Norm had quite the day and was ready for it to end. The post-events of the raider attack and his sister leaving the Vault to find their dad had left him physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn’t know how much more he had left in him. So when he heard a soft knock at the door of his outer living space, he wasn’t sure if he was in the headspace to deal with a visitor inquiring about his dad… or sister, for that matter, as it wouldn’t be long before the word on her rescue mission got out.

When the pressurized door unlocked, he was relieved to see it was you standing at the threshold.

“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you,” you started, but he waved off your apology. “No, it’s alright. What’s going on?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“I came by to check in and see if you needed anything or wanted to talk—or not talk,” you added quickly. “I can do that too if you want some company.” You fidgeted with your hair, not quite knowing how to word the next part. “I just know how weird going from a full house to an empty one can be,” you trailed off.

Norm perked up at the thought of spending time with you; maybe he had a little more social battery left. “Yeah, actually, that sounds nice,” he mused, stepping aside to let you in. “Though, I don’t think I have it in me to do much talking. I can put something on if that’s alright with you?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, moving into the MacLean’s living room and claiming a spot on the couch.

Norm flipped on the Radiation King television set, the box coming to life with grey images of cowboys fighting gunslingers from an old copy of “The Man from Deadhorse,” his dad’s favorite already queued up. Immediately no. “Let’s try something else. Any requests?” Norm asked, not feeling like dredging up any emotions associated with putting on a Western.

“Dealers choice.”

“Communists from Space! It is,” Norm decides, grabbing the next available tape, popping it in, and joining you on the couch.

The two of you start off silent, attempting to enjoy the film with the limited social interaction Norm requested, but before long, neither of you can resist adding your own color commentary to the events on the screen.

“I’m confused,” you interrupt. “Doesn’t a communist invasion from space imply that the containment policy failed in Europe, Asia, and now space? They’re suggesting America is losing on all fronts.”

Norm snorted. “I appreciate that your suspension of disbelief stops at American geopolitics and not at the fact that those space helmets aren’t connected to any source of oxygen.”

“I’m asking the real questions here, Norm,” you giggle back.

“I think the bigger question you need to ask is how the communists even managed to get the alien forces on their side? Cause there’s no way there’s a shared language.”

“I’d guess propaganda and the universal promise of American government secrets,” you deadpan.

That sent you both into a fit of roaring, sidebusting laughter.

As the laughter subsides, Norm announces, “Thank you for this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.” He was grateful for the company but also for your ability to make him feel whole after the events of the last couple of days. No obsessing over the concerns about his family or what you two saw in 32, just time he was able to be Norm.

“Of course, if you haven’t noticed by now, I really enjoy our time together,” you say, unable to control the blush rising to your cheekbones.

“I do, too, and I hope I’m not being presumptuous by saying I would like to continue spending more time like this together,” Norm stated, trying to gauge the status of where the two of you stood. Was this friendship, or were you moving into the “something more” territory?

“Not presumptuous of you at all,” you affirm, taking the opportunity to position yourself closer to Norm on the couch. He stiffened slightly, surprised by the contact of your vault suit against his, but took your repositioning as a sign to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “Is this alright?” he questions, ever the gentleman.

“Perfect,” you respond as you lean in to rest your head on his chest and watch the rest of the movie.

Something more, alright, noted.

________________________

Norm is awoken by the sound of static on the television set and is momentarily disoriented when he realizes one, this wasn’t his bed; he was out on the couch, and two, the weight on his chest preventing him from sitting up was you curled up under his arm sleeping at his side. The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch sometime during the second movie you put on. He eased back down onto the sofa, intent on enjoying the moments before you both woke up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He feels you stir at the sound of your alarm and begin to reach over him to shut off the device. No, just a few more minutes, he wished.

“Sorry,” you manage sleepily, rolling the upper half of your body over Norm, grabbing the Pip-Boy, and quieting the beeping. Norm does his best to suppress his imagination from running wild over the nature of your position hovering over him as you turn off the alarm. In another swift motion, you move to sit up and stretch away some of the sleep. Norm does the same, hoping you won’t notice how much your simple actions affected him this morning. “I didn’t mean to stay the night and keep you out on the couch,” you continued, unsure if you overstayed your welcome.

“If it means you staying over, I’d gladly take the couch,” Norm replies, causing both of your cheeks to redden.

You linger, not wanting to leave but knowing you’d be late if you dawdled any longer. After checking the time on your Pip-Boy, you decide it’s time to get up from the sofa and move to the front entryway. “I’ve got to run and get cleaned up for work, but we can meet up after my shift if you’re up for it.”

“Definitely,” Norm assures. Everything else in his life might be turned upside down, but this was his one piece of solace.

“Okay, it’s a date,” sealing your statement with a kiss on Norm’s cheek before pressing the release button on the door. As the door slid open, you both were surprised to see Chet waiting outside, arm raised, ready to knock on Norm’s door, and he looked equally as surprised to see you leaving the MacLean residence so early in the morning. You decide to play it off as nonchalantly as you can.

You greeted Chet with a wave and a sweet, simple “Good Morning, Chet” as you hurriedly exited the hallway and headed toward your place. You trusted Norm could navigate a conversation with his cousin without your help.

Chet didn’t wait for Norm’s invitation to enter. He rushed into the MacLean domicile, making sure you were out of hearing distance, before he exclaimed, “Now, what’s going on with that?!” Gesturing wildly towards the direction you left from. “You had (Y/N) stay over? When did that start?”

Norm sighed and closed the door behind him, not eager to try to explain himself to his cousin. “It’s not like that,” he said, emphasizing the suggestive “that” Chet implied. “Nothing happened; she came over to watch a movie, and we fell asleep. Nothing to tell,” he wrapped up with a shrug. He wasn’t optimistic about his chances of ending the conversation with that explanation.

Chet looked at him and said, “Come on, Norm. You and I both know that when you invite a girl over to watch a movie, you’re not actually doing much movie-watching.”

“Gross,” Norm rebutted, knowing who the girl in question was. “Is this what you came over for? To traumatize me and dissect my relationship with (Y/N)?”

Chet frowned, not because of Norm’s taunting but because he was reminded of why he was here in the first place. Norm’s love life was a welcome distraction from the news he had to share. “No, I was supposed to inform you that the Vault council has summoned us for a hearing this morning. I’m starting to think they’re not pleased we helped Lucy.”

“Of course, they’re not. Did you think they were going to be? That we’d help her escape the Vault, and they’d give us a thumbs up and a sticker?” Norm asked. There was no way he was that naive.

_____________________________

Norm waited outside in the hallway while Chet took his turn meeting with the council. Suddenly, the silence in the corridor was broken by the sounds of sobbing and hyperventilating from behind the door. He guessed the council had made their decision.

The council room door slid up slowly, and Chet exited. His face was puffy, and his eyes were red from the bouts of crying behind closed doors. He wondered if they were particularly tough on him.

Norm decides to do the polite thing and asks him if he’s okay, even though his emotional state clearly displays the answer.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m being reassigned,” he replied with a strained thumbs up. “ You were right; the whole “opening the Vault door for Lucy” thing didn’t sit too well with the council, so I guess I’m not gatekeeper anymore,” he said, trying to hold his composure.

“It’s not a big deal.” Norm could see right through that lie. This was a massive deal. For most people in the Vault, their identity was intricately intertwined with the position they held in the Vault. Take that away, and you’ve got all the material for a full-blown identity crisis.

“I’m just not really sure who I even am anymore. Sorry…I. Mmhm.” Chet couldn’t hold himself together any longer, excusing himself from the conversation.

Woody appeared in the doorway, summoning him into the meeting. “Norman, you’re next.”

Norm finds his familiar seat in front of the council, and Reg wastes no time kicking it off. “You know why you’re in here?”

“Cause I helped my sister escape the Vault.” Cause I couldn’t just ignore my family in trouble.

“Escape?” Woody laughed. “ You and Chet put your sister in incredible danger by helping her out that Vault door. The rad levels up there alone….”

“Worse,” Reg interjects, trying to highlight a larger point,” you could have killed us all. What do you think started all this? These Vaults are impenetrable, meaning that those raiders could have only gotten into Vault 32 because some bonehead opened the door to the surface.” He wasn’t like they didn’t take this into consideration, but some things are worth the risk.

Betty, who had been quiet until now, shooting Norm a glare that threatened to burn through him, piped up. “A single bad decision put everyone at risk, not just Vault 32 but 33 and 31 as well. I telegrammed with the Overseer at Vault 31. Thank goodness, they’re unscathed. But you could have destroyed the last vestiges of civilization.”

“It was Lucy’s idea.” Maybe playing the dumb coward could work in his favor.

“And you didn’t think to at least try and stop her?”

“No.”

“What are we going to do with you?” Betty asked. He wasn’t quite sure if it was rhetorical.

“You were going to reassign me a couple of weeks ago; move forward with that, I guess,” Norm resigned, but he was growing tired of the council’s hypocrisy, and the next lines just slipped out. “I’m just glad to hear that we punish people down here for breaking the rules. Is that just for Vault dwellers or people who come down here and murder vault dwellers?” He made his position on the matter as clear as possible.

Betty smirked at his statement, “Now that I think of it, we’ve got a job for you, after all,” as if she had been waiting for a chance to punish his insolence.

#norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader #fallout tv series #fallout series

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milf-harrington · 1 year ago

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the overwhelming feeling of being watched in the dark

steddie | 2.3K | read on ao3

---

There was something under Steve Harrington’s bed.

It hadn’t always been there– once upon a time, there’d been nothing but empty space between the bed-frame and the dark blue carpet lining his bedroom floor. Once upon a time, he’d sleep sprawled across his bed like it was bigger than it was, arms and legs dangling over the sides carelessly, no thoughts spared towards monsters that could be watching through the gap in the closet door.

No thoughts spared towards monsters at all.

Until three years ago, when he found out one had apparently been running around in the woods behind his house. Of course, he found out about that little tidbit of information after he’d fought the thing off with a baseball bat that Jonathan Byers had stuck nails in.

Curiously, in November of 1983, Steve developed a troublesome fear of lights.

After the shitshow at the Byers house, he couldn’t stand the quiet buzzing of the bulbs or the way adrenaline gripped his throat every time too many appliances made the lights pulse. Lights flipped on, or off , without warning threw him into fight or flight mode, one hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

So instead he kept the lights off as often as he could, relearning the shape of his house in the dark, right up until Halloween of 1984.

1984 brought junkyards, traversing an underground maze while concussed, and the chittering screech of dogs-that-weren’t-dogs. His hallway at night became a winding tunnel with the potential to fill with writhing, faceless, bodies whose heads peeled open like some sort of fucked up banana, and suddenly lights didn’t seem so bad.

And then, like the universe just couldn’t help itself, 1985 left him with blood in his eyes and drugs in his blood and the chilling understanding that some very bad people had some very sensitive information about him and his friends.

By his 4th brush with death-by-alternate-dimension, his new fear of the dark had become a downright hassle. Embarrassing and impossible to logic his way out of.

Steve was frozen in the doorway of his bedroom, watching Eddie take his rings off. He did this thing where he'd poke his top lip with the tip of his tongue, concentrating hard on twisting each bit of jewellery off before reaching forward to drop it onto Steve's fancy writing desk. They clattered against the wood, ringing sharply when they skimmed each other, and Steve was trying very hard to focus on all of that and not the sight of Eddie’s ankles exposed to the underside of his bed.

A grown man could fit under there and Steve knew that because sometimes he hid under his bed when the world was too much.

Eddie looked over his shoulders, eyebrow cocked somewhat playfully. He was always some level of playful, like he didn't know how to exist in the world without turning it into a game. “You planning on standing there all night?”

Steve’s eyes dropped from his face to the space between the carpet and the bed-frame. A man could fit under there. Someone who knew his name and had his keys because his pockets had been emptied when he and Robin had been captured.

He swallowed, trying to ignore it, and looked back to find that Eddie’s expression had softened into something else. Something concerned. “Stevie?”

There’s someone under the bed , he wanted to say. Even if the logic wasn’t foolproof, the connection had already been made in his head and there was no thinking his way out of it. Someone could fit under there, so someone had fit under there and now if Steve turned off the light they were both going to die.

He glanced at the light switch, sitting innocently by his shoulder, and a cold panic coiled tight in his stomach.

“You can keep the light on.” Eddie offered, gently, fiddling with his hair. “I’m not going to judge you man, I’ve needed the bathroom light on since I was a kid. And after the shit you’ve seen?” He blew air through his lips, cutting a hand through the air.

And Steve knew that, had been there on some of those nights. The ones where Eddie kept his bedroom door open because sometimes the kid that still existed in his brain got scared of things that hadn’t happened in over a decade.

But it didn’t work the same for Steve. After so many years of not being afraid, of having no reason to be, he still found it almost impossible to sleep without total darkness. Like the damaged part of his brain was ringing alarm bells, but the older bits still recognised the safety in the shadows.

“It’s not that.” Steve admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling childish. There’s someone under the bed, he wanted to say. Could feel the words squeezing his throat like tails and vines and the hands trying to hurt. If I turn the lights off I don’t know what will happen.

God, his bat was under there– the one with the nails driven through it, crooked and rusted with old blood. Whoever was under there probably already had their hands wrapped around it, waiting for the cover of dark to use it.

There were lots of things under Steve’s bed. They weren’t always there at the same time, but the possibility of them was burned into the wooden slats holding his mattress up.

The Soviets had known his full name.

There was a lot you could find out just by knowing something like that, especially with a name like Harrington in a town like Hawkins. And yeah, Starcourt had burned down, half the base blown up, but there had been survivors because some of them had dragged Hopper off to Russia.

Which means there were still people out there who might know his name.

Most of Steve’s nightmares were set in that base.

Eddie was looking more worried the longer Steve went without saying anything, just standing next to the light switch and not doing anything. He bit the inside of his cheek, cracking the knuckles on one hand to assure his friend that he wasn’t being Vecna’d or anything.

He should check.

He’d probably look like a fucking weirdo but there was something under the fucking bed and there would be until he could make sure there wasn’t. It was a reckless sort of certainty that burned through his stomach, tight and cold around his throat.

---

read the rest on ao3 'cause i didn't wanna post the full thing on here

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington has ptsd #steve harrington has anxiety #eddie loves him #they hold hands about it #my writing

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thatlovinfeelin · 2 years ago

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The Way Home - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

In which you meet Bradley during a wedding and your relationship evolves over the years into something more than just fwb.

The Virginian sun was warm against your bare skin as you sat at Buckroe Beach in Hampton Virginia. You were home for an old friend’s wedding taking place at Fort Monroe, just a quick drive away. She was marrying some military boy, which didn’t come as a big surprise considering where you were. The Tidewater area of Virginia was more or less filled to the brim with military, thanks to the multiple bases nearby.

You wiggled your toes in the sand, smiling softly at the feeling. You lived too far inland now, nowhere near the beach, which normally didn’t bother you. But every time you managed to make it home, you’re always reminded about how much you missed it.

Shade suddenly fell on you, blocking the warm sun.You propped yourself up on an elbow before tipping your sunglasses down, “Hey, Gigantor, could you move? You’re blocking the sun.”

The tall man seemed to flinch before looking down at you. His cheeks were red, you couldn’t tell if it was a blush, sunburn, or if they just stayed that way. He ran a hand through his short hair before mumbling an apology and stepping out of the way.

Everything about him screamed military, you spent enough time around them to know. You surveyed the way he was built and the way he was standing. Definitely not Air Force, and somehow you guessed he wasn’t one of the Army boys either.

“Hey, big guy, have we met before?” You questioned sitting up fully before taking your sunglasses off.

“Pre-wedding brunch yesterday,” He replied after looking at you for a minute, “I’m one of the groomsmen.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “So you are military then.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, guilty I guess.”

You moved over on your towel before patting the empty space. The man glanced around the beach, like he was making sure no one was watching, before he carefully sat down next to you. Now that he was next to you, he seemed even bigger. He had to be young, like the same age as you, maybe a year or two older, but he was solid. His shoulders were broad, and muscles.. Oh god, his muscles. They were defined without being like meat-head gym-rat defined. Like he got them just from day to day work and not spending hours and hours in the gym.

“So, what branch?”

“How did you even guess I was military?” He questioned you.

You shrugged, a small smirk forming, “My dad is a Marine. Not active duty of course, but he still works as a contractor. So, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I’m guessing you aren't in the Air Force, and you don’t seem like a soldier. So that leaves the Navy or Marines.”

He nodded along before sticking out his hand, “Bradley Bradshaw, United States Navy.”

“Ah, a sailor then,” You shook his hand back, “Y/N Y/L/N, total civilian. Nice to meet you Bradley.”

He grinned, you almost swore your stomach tightened a little. You liked that smile. His smile was a hell of a lot better than some of the guys you tried to go out with in the last few months. But you only had the weekend, you were only here for the wedding and then you’d go right back home.

“So, are you stationed here?” You asked him.

“Over in Virginia Beach. They have me at Oceana.”

“Personnel or are you one of the flyboys?” You questioned.

He let out a little laugh, “Guilty, I’m an aviator.”

You leaned back to look at him fully, “Damn, that’s impressive. Alex is just a mechanic. But you actually get to fly the things?”

The two of you fell into an easy conversation. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about him that made him so easy to talk to, but you liked it none the less. He seemed so comfortable sitting on the beach with you.

Part of you began hoping you would be able to dance with him at the wedding. You wanted to spend just a little more time with him before you left, probably never to see him again.

“Are you hungry?” You asked some time later.

He shrugged, “I could eat.”

“Great, c’mon, I know a great Italian place just down the road. They have the best subs and I’ve been craving one for months.”

He laughed and followed her as she nearly ran down the road. He soon found himself in a dimly lit italian restaurant, tucking into a big sub. You were right, the sandwich was amazing. The conversation seemed to flow easily. You chatted about your upbringing in Virginia. He told you all about his army of uncles, who also doubled as his father’s old flying buddies. The both of you laughed about certain things the Navy did that just didn’t make sense, and the list was long to be sure.

Before you knew it, you had to leave to meet your friend to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Admittedly though, you weren’t ready to leave your little one on one with the pilot across from you. Somehow you were quite drawn to him, and you liked it.

“See you around, Bradshaw,” You gave him a little salute with a wink before hopping in your car.

The next day you didn’t get a chance to see him until everyone was lining up for the processional. He looked good in his dress uniform, too good in fact. You found yourself licking your lips a little as you stood beside him. He was the best man, as it turned out. Which meant you were able to stand side by side with him the whole time.

He didn’t make eye contact with you, however you caught him glance down at you and smiling a little. You looked damn good, if you had to say so yourself. As many times as you’d been a bridesmaid, you never loved a dress as much as you loved this one. Your friend did a damn good job picking them.

The ceremony was beautiful. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t shed a tear or two. Truthfully, you were just so happy your best friend finally found her Prince Charming. Even if he was a Naval mechanic. She loved him more than anything, and that was enough for you.

So when it came time for their first dance, you held your glass of champagne close to your chest and wondered if one day you’d be able to have the same thing. You had no boyfriend, no one to call your own, and certainly no prospects. Any of the dates you went on recently were horrible and you wished you could forget them. Hookups weren’t in the cards either since no one seemed to know how to actually give you what you needed. Bottom line, you were all alone.

“They look good together,” You glanced over your shoulder to see Bradley standing just behind you, the same wistful look in his eyes.

“They really do,” You agreed, “She made a beautiful bride. Alex is definitely a lucky guy.”

Bradley nodded in agreement and took a long sip from his glass of what looked like whiskey. His tie was gone, along with his suit jacket. He also unbuttoned a couple of his shirt as well. He looked even better now, it made your mouth water just enough.

“You wanna dance?” He asked you, finishing his drink, “I promise not to step on your toes.”

“I can’t promise the same thing, I’ve been told I have two left feet,” You admitted, drinking more champagne.

He looked down at his feet, kicking his toe, “The shoes are sturdy, I think I could handle it.”

So you danced, and danced, and then danced some more. Both of you took breaks to get another drink, and then it was right back to the dance floor. Somehow, you wandered off, finding yourselves outside of the reception venue.

You weren’t sure how his lips ended up on yours, or how your hands tangled into his hair. Or how you managed to find yourself in his bed with his cock burried impossibly deep within you, but you weren’t going to question any of it, or complain.

But the next morning as you were both getting dressed, he was kind enough to lend you a shirt and a pair of sweats so you didn’t have to do a total walk of shame back to your own hotel room. You felt a tug somewhere deep within your chest, like you were getting ready to walk out on something important. So instead you turned back around, dress balled up in your arms, you heels dangling from your fingers.

“How about we make a deal?” You questioned, stepping back towards him.

“A deal?”

“Well, you’re here, and I come home every now and again…” You explained, “And well, I really, really enjoyed last night. Seemed like you did too.”

He nodded, “Go on.”

“How about we call anytime we’re near each other, maybe grab dinner and uh, you know?”

Bradley couldn’t help but smile a little bit. He didn’t want you to walk out anymore than you did. The thought of being able to see and talk to you again made his heart seem to skip a beat.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” He replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Cool, well, uh- I guess I should give you my number.”

That’s how you found yourself in the same situation a handful of times over the next couple of years. You’d call and text any time something major happened, for some reason Bradley was one of the first people you wanted to tell. He did the same. Slowly, you built a relationship with Bradley, a friendship.

You spent several nights in bed with him when he came to see you one month when he had leave. The light kisses and soft touches were enough to make you feel incredibly safe and almost loved.

You found yourself missing Bradley Bradshaw when you weren’t with him. You didn’t call him Rooster like everyone else in his life, except for when you were joking with him. He told you that he loved the way you used his first name. While you loved the way he said your name. You loved the warmth that spread throughout your chest. You wanted to hate it, but you couldn’t.

“I’m being moved again,” He told you over the phone one day, “They’re sending me overseas this time.”

“For how long?” You questioned, feeling your throat close up.

You could almost picture him shrugging, “I don’t know. As long as they need me, I guess?”

“Can I see you before you leave?” You questioned, unable to stop the small amount of hope.

“Not this time,” He replied regretfully, “I ship out in twelve hours. You wouldn’t be able to get here in time. Not from New York, plus you have that conference.”

“Fuck the conference,” You mumbled, “You’re getting ready to leave the country.”

“I know,” He sighed, “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if I knew sooner. I wish I could see you.”

“Just-just be safe, okay? I won’t make you promise me anything but that,” You swore.

You were glad the way he couldn’t see you clutching your chest. Or the way your eyes were burning with tears. After all, you were just hookups, nothing more. Right? Friends with benefits. You only saw him once or twice a year, if that. You had no claim to him, no right to him. Any type of call you got you savored, even if it threatened to break your heart into a million pieces.

“I’ll do my best, I promise.”

You hated the fact that you were so far away. You hated that you didn’t even live in Virginia. Every part of you somehow ached to be back with him. You missed him even if you didn’t have the right to. Sporadic nights in bed with him just weren’t enough anymore. You wanted more, so much more, but you didn’t know how to ask for it. Or if Bradley even wanted it.

“I’ll try to call you when I can,” He promised you, “But I normally give away my phonetime to the guys with families, but I’ll keep one or two for you.”

You felt empty and hollow when you hung up with him. You wanted to call him back and tell him how you felt, but you knew you couldn’t, he needed to focus on what he was about to do. Not some girl that he hooked up with whenever he was in town.

So you went about your normal life. The meetings and phone calls. Slowly unpacking boxes that were stacked almost to the ceiling of your studio apartment in Raleigh, NC. You went out to a couple of bars, met some friends. But you always lunged for your phone when it rang, no matter the time of night. You never wanted to miss a call from Bradley.

Only, the last time you talked to him, you ended up fighting. It was stupid really, but you were stubborn and didn’t want to apologize or admit he was right. So when you were on a date and your phone rang, you simply silenced it.

“Do you need to get that?” Your date asked you, pointing to your purse.

“No, it’s no one important.”

Even the words seemed to hurt you. He was important, so important that you wanted to move back to Virginia to be close to him. That’s what the whole fight was about. You wanted to uproot and he kept telling you how stupid that would be. You didn’t listen, or maybe you didn’t want to listen. Bottom line it ended with you screaming at him before hanging up.

“Who is it?”

You just shrugged and took a sip from your cocktail, “Someone I used to hook up with. He’s deployed right now, but I’m really the only friend not in the military that he has. But he can wait, I can email him later.”

It was almost halloween, the fall air outside was chilly enough for you to need a jacket as you left the restaurant more than an hour later. You pulled your phone out from your bag before playing Bradley’s voicemail, expecting to hear him begging you to just talk to him again.

“Hey, it’s uh- it’s me. Look, I don’t have much time okay, so I need to make this quick. But I’m kind of glad you ignored my call, because I’m not sure I could say all of this with you on the other end of the line.” He took a deep breath, so loud even you could hear it through the recording, “I was stateside, but not for long. They called me back for some special mission, and I’m not sure I’m gonna make it back for this one. We’re on the boat right now, I’m gonna be getting in my plane here in a few minutes. I already told someone how to get in touch with you if something happens to me, okay? They’ll call you, because you’re all I’ve got.”

You clutched the phone, starting to hate yourself for not picking up. The tears that ran down your cheeks were even colder thanks to the fall air. Why did you have to be so mad at him for not letting you ask for a transfer to be closer to him when he came back? He was right, you couldn’t uproot everything just on the off chance that he was going to stay in Oceana.

“I need you to listen to me, okay? Really listen to me,” He said sternly, “I love you. I know it’s a really fucking bad time. And I know this wasn’t part of the deal, we were just supposed to fuck and have fun and not catch feelings. But I caught them. Because I really fucking love you. And I hope I get the chance to actually say it to you. I hope the next time you get a phone call I’ll be the one calling, not someone with bad news. But I couldn’t do this without you knowing. I wish I could tell you where I was, or what we were doing. Just know….I’m gonna do my best to come home to you. But…between you and me, I’m a little scared. So I’m just gonna remember what it felt like when you held me that one time after I had that shitty nightmare. Because that’s what I need.”

There was a loud sound somewhere on the boat, “I have to go….I love you, okay? I know you’re mad at me, but I hope you understand why I said what I said…but I love you.”

The line went dead. And over the next few days you listened to that voicemail again and again. You went through the motions, but truthfully you were too worried to really focus on work or your friends or the second date you somehow agreed to even though you didn’t want to go. You just wanted Bradley. But you didn’t even know if he was okay. You didn’t know how long this mission was going to take. You knew nothing.

So you tried and tried and tried. You went as far as to dig out the old college shirt you stole from Bradley the last time you were at his place. He probably didn’t even know you had it. You hoped he didn’t, because you didn’t want to give it back.

Just like you didn’t want to be on this stupid date. But you didn’t know how to get out of it. He was so nice, almost too nice, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But you felt nothing towards him. Maybe you could ghost him after this was over? Pretend it never happened and keep wishing Bradley would call you, because that would mean he was safe.

“You know what?” You mumbled, “Fuck this. This isn’t working. You’re a great guy, but I’m sorry. I can’t be here. I need to go.”

You put down some money on the table and rushed out of the restaurant, pulling your jacket even closer to your body. Normally you wouldn’t walk alone in downtown Raleigh, but you wanted the cold air.

Only, you stopped dead in your tracks when your phone started ringing. You fished it out, taking a deep breath before answering. His voice filled your ear, rough and a little broken as he said your name. But it was him, it was Bradley. He was safe and alive and that’s all you could think about. People pushed past you, jostling you a little as you stood in the middle of the sidewalk. You were sure your eyes were blown wide open as tears started to fill them. He was okay.

“I love you too,” You forced out before he could say anything else, “I really fucking love you too.”

“I’m in Raleigh, I flew in as soon as they let me go,” He told you, “Where are you? I need to see you. I need to hear you say it in person.”

You quickly looked around to find the street signs, because your brain seemed to forget everything else. He was okay, and he was here. He wanted to see you. And you wanted to love him until nothing else mattered.

“I’m only a couple blocks away. I’ll be there in a minute,” He promised, “I look a little rough, had a bit of trouble during everything, but I couldn’t wait.”

“I love you,” You repeated again, because that’s all that mattered.

“I love you. I’ll be right there.”

But all you could hear was him saying that he loved you. All you could feel was the warmth in your chest despite the cold outside, because you loved him and he loved you in return. He was here and coming for you. You could be together for a while, maybe more than just a night.

“Look up.”

You could see him smiling in a rented pickup truck just in front of you. You hung up your phone, nearly squealing as you launched yourself into the front seat. There wasn’t time to look over the cuts on his face and neck. No time to comment on how he looked, because instead you kissed him. Hard. Like there was no time in the world for being soft and sweet.

“I love you.”

He smiled against your mouth and pulled back just a little, tucking a stray bit of hair behind your ear, “I love you, so so much. I should’ve said it sooner.”

“No,” you shook your head, kissing his hand, “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“No more just fucking then?”

You laughed and kissed him again before cars started honking behind you, “Oh honey, we’re long passed just fucking. But if you don’t take me back to my apartment and fuck me there, I’m going to explode.”

He laughed, pulling away from the curb, his smile big enough to make your heart squeeze a little, “Well, we can’t have that. Show me the way home, honey.”

#bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #rooster bradshaw one shot

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frozenjokes · 8 months ago

Text

Rage Room (I’m Loving A Losing Battle, But I Can’t Quite Seem To Let Go)

in which aromantic scar finally tells his friends what’s been happening between him and Grian, and how he processes the space between them

“It’s just- not fair!” Scar smashed the bottle against the tile floor, the glass pelting the ankles of his reinforced pants.

Bdubs clapped behind him, though stopped when Scar turned around, visibly not in the mood. Admittedly he knew he was shooting low when he went on, but Scar didn’t care, “And I’m kind of pissed off about Etho! If the roles were switched, I would be there, and he said he’d be here last time he missed.”

“Oi,” Cleo cut in, about as unamused as Scar figured they’d be. “No friendly fire.”

“Is it really friendly fire if he’s not here.” Scar huffed, but Cleo knew better than to take his words at face value, and shut him up with a firm glare.

“And you better start talking before I make you pay for all of this.” Her words were rugged, but Scar knew she didn’t mean it, and he could take as much time as he needed. But really, if he was taking shots at Bdubs, he probably should cut to the chase. This was why they were here. This was why they had all made this pact in the first place.

“Grian is.” Scar started, stilted, “Sorry, Bdubs. I shouldn’t have said that. Grian won’t talk to me anymore. He doesn’t- want to talk to me.”

“What?” Bdubs said, eyes flying open, and yeah, no one here was really caught up with his whole.. situation. Anything that felt close to Mumbo he tended to avoid, and basically everything about Grian in the past weeks was Mumbo adjacent.. and also a little sensitive. Not something he was eager to talk about. Scar was more than a little pent up, and based on the expressions of concern across Cleo and Bdubs’ faces, it must have been pretty obvious. “Weren’t you guys hanging out nearly everyday for- I don’t know, it’s been a month at least, right? Did something happen? Hasn’t Grian been driving you around everywhere, too? You’ve sure been asking me a lot less.”

“Yeah. We were.” Scar spoke stiffly, picking up another empty bottle and spinning it in his hands. He chucked it at the wall, aiming at the newly set up targets Cleo had implemented a couple weeks ago. A good choice. Fit with the theme of the axe throwing/rage room combo. The bottle shattered near the bullseye, unsurprising, given their whole friend group had pretty tight aim. Still satisfying. “Until he went and fell in love with me.”

The memories burned like open wounds, like red, angry flesh, like sunburns on your eyelids, like the stinging smell of bleach. Cleo said something, some sort of assent, but Scar didn’t hear it, smashing two more bottles for release, though he didn’t feel any less like his ribs had been torn from his chest, hanging limply on hooks, dripping on his face from his place on the cold ground, bleeding out, dying, but never quickly enough.

“I don’t like labels, alright, you all know this, but Grian says aromantic, and that works for now, because I don’t love him like he loves me and that’s fine. That’s fine! That. Is. Fine.” Scar took a bat, needing something bigger, needing more release, and the old TV would work just fine, “And you know how I feel about dating. I like it. I like to get to know strangers, I like to feel things out, and I like to be close! But you know who I don’t like to date?” The question wasn’t meant to be answered. Scar swung his bat, splitting the TV screen with a satisfying crack. “Friends. Good friends. Friends that mean a lot, friends that I can’t afford to lose when everything goes to shit.”

Scar hit the TV a couple more times, physically battling away distress, “I was so afraid when he brought it up- dating. I was so afraid. I couldn’t just date Grian, because it would end and I would lose him and maybe he’d say we could still be friends and I would say yes! Yes, please, please can we still be friends, and he would say that’s okay, and then two weeks later he’d slam me with a message about ‘needing space’ and ‘not wanting to talk for a while’ and suddenly, suddenly my heart’s being ripped out of my chest and stomped on, but it would be fine, right? It would be fine, because after he’s taken his time, we could be friends again, and things could return to normal. No!” The TV was hardly satisfying to hit anymore, reduced to shattered glass and warped plastic under Scar’s assault.

“It never just. Goes back to normal. You try, and you try and you try, but they just can’t do it, they just can’t love you anymore, and suddenly your best friend is slipping away and there’s fucking nothing you can do about it. Because you dated them. Because you took things ‘to the next level,’ because you made something volatile without even knowing, and the next thing you know, it’s blown up in your face, and you’ve been completely blindsided again.” Scar’s arms shook, and gently, from behind, Cleo laid a hand on his shoulder, sliding down his arm to take the bat he was gripping so tightly. Scar let go when they touched his hands, but his teeth remained locked, grinding near painfully.

“Deep breaths, Scar. Breathe with me. Let me count for you,” and Cleo did, counting to five and back again, forcing Scar to take a step back. Scar wasn’t someone who particularly valued meditation or breathing; it was often too difficult to focus, especially alone, and he was easily frustrated knowing how he should be feeling, but Cleo had a way of grounding him, and when Bdubs was doing the same exercises at his side, Scar didn’t feel so stupid. And it did help. Fives minutes to breathe really did wonders sometimes; it was a shame Scar couldn’t quite manage to utilize the tool as effectively when he was alone. Not that he ever remembered to try.

And now it was quiet, and Scar was so vulnerable, and there was no more anger to hide behind, because it was all just sadness, stiff and aching so impossibly deep.

“I thought if we didn’t.. date.. I thought things could just be normal. That nothing would change. But every awful thing just got expedited- he doesn’t want to see me, he doesn’t want to talk to me- he needs space, he said he needed space, but I know what that means now.” Scar had to sit down, and Bdubs joined him, Cleo standing close by. “I feel so helpless. And it didn’t even matter. I just wish I knew so badly, so I could have said yes, so at least we might have had a chance before it all went to shit. I could keep my friend a little bit longer. I wish I understood how he felt. I wish I felt what he felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard.” Scar let his head drop to his hands, voice muffled under his palms, “I just kinda hate myself sometimes.”

Cleo put a hand on his shoulder, a question of touch, and one that Scar accepted with closed eyes. “It would still be hard, Scar. I can promise you that. If this isn’t what you want to hear right now, then you can let me know, but I have to think Grian and your other exes of the past who you haven’t kept in contact with were and are just as torn up as you. Maybe they need to let go for themselves, but I can tell you from personal experience, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make you miss them any less.”

“But when people leave me, it’s always because in some way, their lives would be better without me,” Scar felt like wailing, but in reality, his speech was far more soft, “And my life is always worse. It’s always worse. Like I’m just a plague on my friends, and I have no idea how to fix myself to keep this from happening.”

Bdubs squeezed his hand to get his attention, and Scar knew what was coming, he just couldn’t love himself right now.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scar. You’re one of the most delightful people I know, and I mean that. The way you navigate the world is inspiring.”

“Just doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Cleo said, something faraway about the words, “You just should know, that’s all. How we feel.”

“I just wish I was normal.”

“I don’t,” Bdubs snorted, something so passionately reactionary, Cleo laughed, and Bdubs himself looked a bit surprised by his own words, then a tad embarrassed, “I mean, come on. You’re a complete monster, and I love it. I love how comfortable you are about touch, I love how physical you are, and I love how normal you make it feel. Sometimes I want to fall asleep on my friends’ shoulder, or hold hands, or just be held, you know? And no one does it like you, Scar, no one. I think everyone ought to take a couple pages from your book.”

Scar wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, but it wasn’t the type of thing you argued about. You just had to accept it. In all honesty, having people to love him when he couldn’t manage it himself felt indescribably secure. Like a heated blanket wrapped tightly over his shoulders when he was so, so cold. But he couldn’t acknowledge it either, not when he couldn’t breathe the words. So he let it hang, hoping he’d remember to say something later. He knew he would. For now, Scar dodged around the words, stuck in his own raw truth.

“I don’t want to go through this again.”

“I know,” Cleo kept their hand on his shoulder, and Scar wanted to cry.

“And I- Okay, so I can’t really talk about this.. NDAs and such, but I was working on something with someone- something cool, all three of us, Grian included. And at the same time Grian.. cut contact.. I haven’t been able to reach this other uh- colleague, and I don’t know what happened! I don’t know anything, and I have no way of contacting this other guy, and Grian doesn’t know either, and I was so excited, but it just feels like everything is falling apart around me. And- and don’t be mean about the other guy, please, it’s not his fault.” Cleo looked quite skeptical about that, but a pleading look from Scar was enough to get her to leave well enough alone, “I just wish I knew why. Or if he was coming back. Might not have been able to communicate that anyway though, there’s a bit of a language barrier.”

“Can’t use google translate?” Bdubs asked, and Scar couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped his throat.

“Hadn’t thought of that,” he mumbled, which was enough to get Bdubs to let it go. Cleo didn’t look happy, but she didn’t push either.

“That fucking sucks,” she said instead, and Scar laughed in earnest, along with Bdubs, the entire air feeling just a little bit lighter.

“It does,” Scar sighed, resting a cheek on his fist, “Guess I have to find something new to throw myself into. I just really wanted this. I really wanted this.”

There was a long silence, Scar having nothing else to say, and his friends in a similar boat. There wasn’t much to say. They knew. Scar knew they understood. But there was nothing anyone could do. Nothing that could make this any less horrible. But Bdubs did perk up after a minute, catching Scar and Cleo’s attention

“We could go skiing!” Bdubs suggested, to a chorus of groans from Scar and Cleo. Bdubs huffed, affronted as he crossed his arms, “You two need to live a little. Even if you suck, you’re both exhausted by the end of the day, which would do Scar some good in my opinion, and I know you’d be able to take the time off for an impromptu trip.”

“I don’t even think you like skiing,” Cleo rolled their eyes, a laugh under her voice, “You went on one trail ride in those mountains and it changed your life, that’s what. There are no wild horses out there, Bdubs, the guide lied to you.”

“She did not lie! There are horses, and they’re going to see me and know.”

“Know.. what, exactly?” Scar teased, and Bdubs puffed up, as if this was the most blasphemous question Scar could have asked.

“They will just know. And anyway, Etho believes there’s horses out there too, he does, and he wants to see them just as much.”

“Pretty sure Etho is also fucking with you,” Cleo said, smug, and Bdubs gasped.

“Never!” But something stopped him from ranting on; a short pause, a bit of uncertainty. A guilty glance in Scar’s direction. “I’m really sorry he’s not here. I told him- I don’t know. He said something came up last minute and wouldn’t explain. I’m not happy with him either- quite frankly, I’m embarrassed.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Scar rubbed his neck, frowning, “It doesn’t really bother me much, Bdubs. I don’t want you to feel bad.”

“It’s fine if it bothers you! It bothers me! And you’re right, he’s not here, so I think a little friendly fire is well deserved,” Bdubs paused, eying one of the few bottles that were left, “May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Bdubs snatched at a bottle, flipping it in his hand, nearly dropping it trying to look cool, then whipping it at the target across the room, the entire thing smashing right on the bullseye.

“Oh, score!” Scar smiled, and Bdubs pumped his fist.

“Yes! You know, I already feel better. This is great, Cleo, have I told you this is great?”

Cleo looked pleased, exactly the cat who got the cream, “You have. And I know. So how about you boys throw back a couple beers to replace these bottles, and we do a little axe throwing.”

“Are you paying?” Scar asked, hopeful, innocent, but Cleo snorted, shaking her head.

“Uh, no. Don’t let that hold you back, though.”

“Oh, come on,” Bdubs whined, but not without his signature grin, “What’s the point of free rage room therapy hour if it’s not all free?”

“I’m not going to make you pay for the axe throwing either, and that is not included in our little deal, so the least you can do is drink.”

“You can’t make us pay to axe throw with you because we all know you’re going to whoop our asses,” Scar shot back in fake accusation, but Cleo shrugged, a crooked smile across her lips.

“You have fun.”

“I do,” Bdubs assented, earning a sharp jab from Scar’s elbow.

“We don’t! Unless you buy us each a beer, then we do.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Okay fine,” Scar sighed, fully intending on a large tip regardless, since despite her sharp tongue, Cleo would still refuse any sort of compensation for an outing like this, “But you also have to drink.”

Cleo scoffed, the smile never leaving their face. “Who do you think I am?”

***

It was fun. Of course it was fun. Scar lost pretty miserably in nearly every round, though that could be accurately attributed to the fact he was more than a little tipsy, and Bdubs, always spying an opportunity to get an edge, took full advantage. Though, to his credit, Bdubs was having a great day in general, overtaking Cleo in score multiple times, and even winning one or two games. A feat, even against an inebriated Cleo, which, in all honesty, was pretty much the only way Scar or Bdubs could ever surpass her. Etho.. It was safe to say Etho had little talent for the sport. Didn’t matter how much instruction he got, he was nothing short of miserable every time all four of them got together to play. Actually, out of the four of them, Etho was probably the only person who improved when he was drunk, which was always hilarious to see. You’ve never seen a fire lit under someone’s ass like you did when Etho managed to squeak ahead of Bdubs or Scar, the cackling of Cleo only furthering their panic.

Scar did wish Etho was here. He wished he wasn’t so flakey sometimes.

Regardless, when they were done, Bdubs was only two steps away from sober and plenty able to drive. Scar was relieved to have to ride, and even more so that he hadn’t brought his own car in the first place. It was a nice drive home, anything but quiet, and really, just what Scar needed. The less time he spent alone with his own thoughts, the better. Though, after such a nice evening, tonight was going to be a little easier.

Thanking Bdubs for the ride, Scar stepped out onto the cobblestones once they reached his apartment, taking a deep breath before going inside. It was okay. He was going to be okay.

But there was one little habit he had developed, a little something he couldn’t quite shake despite knowing it wasn’t doing him many favors. It had only been a week since Mumbo had disappeared, but Scar refused to miss it if the mermaid ever did return- he couldn’t, even if Grian wouldn’t be in the picture anymore. This still meant something. Scar wasn’t about to give it up so easily.

The trail cams were still open on his monitors when he sat at his desk. Of course they were. Scar never closed them.

So there he sat, chin in his hands, eyes glazed as he watched every angle of that little cove. The trees, waving gently in the breeze. The sand, shifting ever so slightly in the presence of bugs and crabs. But mostly he watched the water. Scar never stopped watching the water.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #bdubs #bdouble0 #bdoubleo100 #mumbomaid au #zombiecleo #etho #ethoslab

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Note

Yeaaaaah imma need more Simon x Bones content (if you’re willing, of course!) 🥵 The dynamic you created between the two characters is just ✨chefs kiss✨

Ahhh thank you so much my love!! <3 I very much enjoy writing them 🥰

Come Find Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink-ish, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (kind of?), established relationship, fluffiessss

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A/N: Full version is here! Ghost is a tits man, you literally can't change my mind about this.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Warm and firm, the weight crushing, yet comforting. There’s the smell of fresh pine, bergamot, the small chill of his chain. It causes a shiver to roll through your body, one you settle into. The bulk of his biceps cage you in, arms snuggled between your back and the mattress. The moment is private and above all, intimate. He’s resting on you, his head turned to the side so his cheek can rest on your chest, right between your breasts. And you welcome it, him and his positioning, legs opened slightly with his pelvis laying between them. Your own arms are around him, too, holding his hulking body above you.

“How was the mission?” You ask quietly, body consumed by the tenderness of it all. Your hand is smoothing over the back of his head, caressing him.

“Long.” Is all he says, holding you just a little tighter in those gorgeously sculpted arms.

And then he groans. It’s a small, happy sound, made as he nuzzles further in. Yeah, he really did miss you.

Right now, on top of being completely at ease, you’re both wondering why the hell you haven’t done this before. Not only are Simon’s quarters smaller, but they’re colder, too, and not just physically.

The air in the barracks is stiff and unwelcoming. But here, it’s warm, comfortable and inviting. Your space is much bigger than his, being that you’re on base far more often than him. Simon also didn’t prefer to have much in his room, easier to keep clean, he says. But honestly, he’s loving your fairly decorated space. Everything just seems… nicer. Your bed is full in size, opposed to his single-style military issued cot. It’s also softer, has more pillows and blankets, too. There’s also better lighting, you even have a window in here. But it’s closed with the curtains drawn, shutting out the night. To top it all off, you have a mini fridge and a small stash of snacks on the shelf above your desk. He’d kill for that.

In the quiet lull surrounding you, Simon releases a warm breath over your skin, you’re just in your bra and shorts beneath him. Rubbing his cheek slightly across your chest, he gives the curve of your tit a tender kiss before snuggling in again.

“Simon?”

“Mm?” He grumbles in response, his mask pulled barely above his lips.

“I missed you.” You’re cooing to him like he’s a precious baby, and deep inside, he fucking loves it. He loves how caring you are. He’s never been cared for like this.

Simon has opened up quite significantly since the start of your relationship. And still, nobody knows about it, not even Soap or Price. It’s not necessarily forbidden for the two of you to do this, but you both think it would be frowned upon. Ghost should be focused on his work, and you on yours. But neither of your performances have faltered since the start of this, so, why end it?

As soon as he returned from their most recent mission, Simon found you. Just like before. But instead of dragging you to his barracks, you suggested your own room. You were less likely to be caught there. So, after showering up, he walked to C-Block, coming up with a multitude of excuses in the case that he’s seen. But he wasn’t, you were right. This block is empty as hell, especially at night. Not many people stay at the base, only essential workers for the team. The only people occupying the other rooms in C-Block were mainly janitors and the occasional assistant nurse.

“Wasn’t gone that long, love.” He chastises gently, smirking.

He’s right, he was only gone for a week. But still, you missed him; how could you not?

“Does that mean you didn’t miss me?” You tease in response, grinning in the near-darkness of your room.

He hums, chuckling. You’re baiting him, and you’re winning. “I did.”

During the mission, he thought about you, mainly when he went to bed. He tried to keep you out of his head during the day - otherwise it’d get him killed. But on your end, you thought about him all day, while you worked, while you ate, while you bathed. It’s like you ached for him, and you’re so thankful he’s back again.

Every time they came back from a mission, they got the next day off. Meaning, Simon doesn’t have a strict bedtime tonight, nor an early wakeup call tomorrow. This is the best time for you to enjoy each other’s company. And even though he’s got the night off, and the following day, all he wanted to do was lay down with you. He’s exhausted, physically and mentally drained. And even though he’d never admit it… he wanted to be held by you. He wanted to be close to your body.

With the blanket pulled over Simon’s large frame, your hands caressing his back, he releases a contented breath. Turning his head, he kisses your breast again, slowly laying his tongue over it. It makes you moan quietly, happily, the warm, wet feeling of it. And when he feels your fingernails drag lightly across his naked back, he grins, licking your curves again.

“Baby…” It’s a small sigh, lolling your head to the side as you glance down at him.

“Hm…” He groans slightly, releasing a breath. And then, he leans in, giving your covered, pebbled nipple a delicate kiss.

Coming home to you feels… good. Good in a way he almost can’t describe. It makes him hopeful about life, you give him something to look forward to. And in the midst of this, he finds his chest tightening with emotion, that smile continuing to tug at his lips.

“Come here,” He grumbles in that thick, baritone voice. “Closer to me.”

It’s quiet and calm in your space, his movements reflecting the mood. He’s slow with it, thick fingers wrapping around the edge of your bra. Gently, yet firmly, he tugs it down, freeing your breasts, and you gasp. Lifting his head, his cheek slides over them, nudging the softness of your flesh with his face.

His one hand slides along your side, finding your waist and squeezing lightly. He truly loves your body, absolutely mesmerized by your tits. Since the two of you started… whatever this is, he’d thought about all the things he could do to you, all the things you could do to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t always time in the day for things like that. But right now, he’s reveling in this moment, in the night he now has to spare.

“Gorgeous, B.” Simon grunts, gently sucking your nipple into his mouth.

Now, you moan fully, arching ever so slightly into his touch. Simon always seemed to love your breasts, ever since he got to see them, got to touch them, got to lick on suck on them.

“Baby…” Cradling his head against you feels different when he’s in your bed. But regardless of where you are, you’re still able to feel how incredibly large he is. His body is dwarfing yours, caging you in and making you feel small and secure.

Laying his tongue out, he runs it over the slope of your breasts, dipping into the valley between them. His mouth suctions to the soft skin on the side of your boob, sucking a mark onto you. It made his insides stir with excitement, seeing you during the day and knowing his mark is resting just beneath the layers of your clothing.

“Oh my god, I missed you.” Rutting up against him prompts his pelvis to grind down into you, his lips returning to your pointed peaks.

“Yeah… I know you did.” He responds teasingly.

And his cheeky attitude doesn’t even phase you, because the motions of his mouth have become hungry, and he’s groaning, his humid breaths huffing out across your chest. You can practically feel the heat radiating from him, the muscles beneath his hot skin moving against you. He feels strong, keeping his weight in mind as he presses into you.

He’s more than eager to have you again, but honestly, he’s not looking for a hard fuck. Right now, he’s yearning for a sweet sense of intimacy. He’d never ask for it, though, not verbally. But when he was gone, it’s all he thought about, holding you close in his bed, feeling your little limbs wrap around him again.

“Baby,” Comes that deep accent, his baritone voice. “Fuckin’ love doing this to you.”

Only your table lamp is on, the one sitting atop your nightstand. And in this atmosphere of barely-there darkness, you grin. He’s never called you baby before.

“I love when you do it.” Your voice is sweet and soft, just how he likes it.

Something inside him stirs, feeling incredibly grateful for you. In the two times you’ve had him, it was clear to see that he wasn’t a selfish lover. He liked letting you know just how attractive you are to him, no matter the situation. And these thoughts prompt him to move down, mouth slowly sliding over your rib cage and belly. It makes your insides tingle, feeling him crawl down your body.

“Wanna do somethin’ else, too.” He’s mumbling against you, his stubble just barely scratching your skin. And by now, he’s dry humping you, repeatedly rolling his hips into your pelvis.

The way he’s touching you makes you moan, releasing an airy breath. Lightly, his teeth nip at your skin, tongue soothing the sting. You want to ask him what, baby? What else do you want to do? But he’s distracting you.

“Wanna lay between your legs.” Jesus, you could listen to his voice for hours. It’s so sexy, the deep rumble of it. He’s mumbling over your skin, his eyes closed when says, “Wanna taste you again.”

Naturally, his words make you perk up, lifting your head to stare down at him. The hand on your waist squeezes again, thumb brushing over your belly as he kisses it. He can feel its inhale, the push and pull of your breath. And when his lips meet your skin, his eyes lift, finding yours and sending a shock through your being.

“You want to… taste me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Simon…” You’re rolling your eyes, but his words bring you right back to him.

“Wanna eat that pretty little pussy.” He says it so easily, so casually.

Simon’s only done this with you one time before, and the entire ordeal was pretty quick. But by the way he’s moving, by the way he’s talking, it’s like he wants to put his mouth on you and just keep it there. While he was gone, he thought of it constantly - going down on you, you going down on him. The ladder has yet to happen. He bets you’d be good at it, but he doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that he is good at it, and he knows it because he’s made you cum before. He remembers your taste, your smell, how you wriggled beneath his arms and cried out for him.

“I’ll let you sleep, lovely.” He promises, his breath fanning over your chest. It smells like mint, clean and fresh. “I just want it, B, please.” And this shocks you; he’s never begged like this. “Can I?”

It’s grown late; originally, he got back to base around ten. But he still wanted to find you. It’s become an unspoken rule between the two of you. No matter when he returns, no matter how late or early it may be, he’ll come and find you. He knows you wouldn’t refuse.

Your quiet voice speaks into the night, “Yes.”

Dropping his forehead onto your stomach, he groans. A quiet fuck leaves his lips, his body moving forward so he can kiss you. Bulging biceps hold his body up as he leans in, one of his hands sliding beneath your hair to hold the back of your head. The kiss isn’t brief, it’s deep, his tongue invading your space. It dives into your mouth, languidly and passionately rubbing over your own. It’s so easy for you to get him going, too easy, in his opinion.

Sighing into his kiss, your hands slide down, holding either side of his mostly-hidden face. Rhythmically, his lips move against you, tongue allowing you to taste his spit. And the more he shoves it into your mouth, the more excited you become, eager to feel these same movements between your legs. As the two of you continue to grow close, you’ve noticed how much he likes kissing. And he’s rather good at it.

“You want me to lick you, B?” Ghost asks hurriedly against your lips. “Want my tongue in your sweet pussy?”

“Fuck, Simon.” Bringing him in, you urge him to press his forehead to your own. “Yes.”

Maybe it’s because he spends most of his time with his mouth covered, maybe that’s why he’s so eager to use it on you. It’s almost like he’s curious with it, wanting to experiment with you.

Broad palms finding your hips, his fingers dipping past the hemline of your panties and shorts to pull them off in one go. He’s gentle with you, sliding them down your legs. And then he notices the uncomfortable position of your bra, reaching up to free you of this, too.

“You get cozy, love.” His voice is rough, gravely, his accent thick and wafting through the air.

Sighing happily, you do as he says, relaxing your muscles and laying back for him. And while you begin to rest, Simon does the opposite. His body is becoming more aroused by the second, and his thoughts won’t stop running laps in his head. While he was gone, he thought about you… so much. Honestly, almost nothing else made its way into his head. Simon felt like he needed you, and that scared him. But in the same sense, thinking of you also comforted him.

“Pretty…” He mumbles, kissing his way down the inside of your thigh. Settling on his stomach, he sighs, looping his arms beneath your legs, hands resting on your hips.

“… fucking annoying?” You ask with a laugh, repeating his ongoing joke with you.

And it makes him chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, not this time.”

Widening your legs for him, you reach for another pillow to support your head. You want to watch this. And with the extra support, you do, witnessing Simon’s gorgeous lips become wet with his tongue.

With a heavy exhale, he’s leaning in, closing his eyes when his mouth meets your thigh. His fingertips curl into the meat at your hips when his teeth come out, nipping at you before his tongue swipes over your skin. Releasing a small moan, Simon begins to relax, his mouth languidly sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh.

“Gonna take my time with you.”

“Baby…” Your hands are on his head, fingers sliding over the back of his mask. And he leans into your touch, humming from it.

When he’s done leaving his first mark on you, he drags the point of his nose up your inner thigh, nuzzling it into the crease of your leg. Sliding his tongue out, he licks up this small valley, moving it over your labia. Your lips part when he does it, brows raising as he continues to lick you. An open-mouthed kiss is then placed directly on your center, his lips briefly sucking yours in.

“Pretty,” He grumbles again, eyes remaining closed. Another kiss to your center, then another little lick. “Pretty baby… pretty ‘n pink…”

It makes you giggle; he’s really starting to let go around you.

“You like when I call you names?” He asks, gently laying his tongue over your hooded clit.

Nodding, you grin, nibbling on the corner of your lip. And then, your hips jerk from the sensation, his tongue running over you again. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” He replies easily, cockily. “I know you do.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“I know what you like,” Again, a quick and easy reply. “What makes you move.”

Okay, yeah. That’s true. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“So, what?”

And then he’s shoving his tongue into you, directly into your warm center. It makes you yelp quietly, moaning dramatically when he begins pumping it into you.

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” Ghost says when he removes his mouth from you. Turning, he wipes his face off on your sensitive skin, kissing it before returning to your sex again.

One of Simon’s broad hands slides up your side, fingertips curling around your right breast and squeezing lightly.

“Fuck,” Groaning, you plop your head back. “You make it so hard to -”

And then that same hand is on your mouth, covering it. “No talking.”

For some reason, this makes your eyes roll back, sighing into his hand. The skin of his palm is rough but you love it, you love feeling the ruggedness of him. And it works in his favor, because you immediately stop talking.

With his eyes closed, he mouths at you, siding his tongue up through your folds and using the tip of it to circle your clit. Keeping his hand on your mouth, he slides his thumb across your lower lip, the motion making you moan. Applying gentle pressure, you part your lips, allowing his thumb to slide in. Wrapping your mouth around it, you suck, one of your hands leaving his head to cup the breast he left. And while you suck on him, he sucks on you, just barely pulsating his mouth around your tiny nub.

“Mm,” Helplessly, your hips buck up, eyes pinching shut while you moan around his thumb.

“You like that?” He asks, keeping pressure on your tongue.

All you do is nod, whining quietly and pushing your hips closer to his face. Grinning, he dives back in, wet tongue laying out over your sensitive skin.

It feels so lewd and exciting and it makes your insides tingle, having him between your legs like this again. He’s so good at this, he’s fucking amazing at this. And it makes you wonder, how many women has he been with? But that thought flies out of your head when he takes his thumb out of your mouth, lowering it to himself. Licking the pad of it, briefly tasting your spit, he then rubs it over your clit, watching your hips buck from it.

“Simon, please.”

“You’re supposed to be enjoyin’ this, remember? Supposed to be relaxing for me.”

While you’re whimpering from both frustration and agonzing arousal, his mouth finds your leg, sucking another mark into it. He keeps pressure on your sensitive clit, rubbing it gently but most certainly enough to stimulate it.

“Just lay back, sweetness.” He urges, taking his thumb away once again. “Let me lick it.”

“Oh, Simon.” Again, your head drops back, a fresh wave of arousal spilling from your lips. His voice, his words, they affect you so much.

Happy with your compliance, he sighs, releasing a cool breath directly over your sex. He watches your skin pebble from it, the muscles in your legs tightening ever so slightly around him. Using the strength in his hands, he lifts your legs, placing your knees on his shoulders with your calves resting on his back. Holding you in this position encases him between your thighs, his mouth now focusing directly on you.

Both of your hands return to his head, fingers scraping along the black fabric. Accidentally, they pull up the back of it, but just barely. You expect Simon to freeze, to jerk away from your hold and scold you for it. But he doesn’t; he’s trusting you. With your heart racing inside your chest, you slide the mask back down so it’s completely covering the back of his head. And when you do it, he hums, a small sound of gratitude and approval.

“Baby…”

Lord, he loves when you call him that. It feels so soft and domestic, so sweet. Especially coming from you.

“Mm… that’s it.” Mumbling over your sex, he groans. “It’s okay, sweets. You can be as loud as you want here.”

And he’s right. You’re sure no one will hear you, not in this block. With that realization, you feel yourself let go, a wanton moan slipping from your throat.

“That’s it,” That particular sound riles him up quite a bit, his tongue diving into your pussy once again. “That’s more like it.”

Quickly, he flicks the tip of his tongue over the peak of your sex, but with a deep, rugged breath, he reels himself back in.

“No, nonono. Baby, please. Please, do that again.” You’re reaching out for him, whining and begging him to continue that pace.

“Mm-mm,” Shaking his head, he sighs. Turning his head, he nuzzles his nose into the inside of your thigh. “Don’t you wanna sleep, B?”

“I, well…”

“Just sleep,” He coos, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Let me take care of you.”

Those specific words make your heart fucking burst. Doing as he says, you lay back, taking away the extra pillow beneath your head. After all, he’s right. You’re absolutely exhausted, and so is he. But he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to enjoy you. So, you decide to let him.

You’re not sure how long he plans to do this for, but regardless, you get yourself cozy. Dragging a blanket over your upper half, you make sure to keep it above his head, not wanting him to get too hot beneath it.

“B-Baby,” You’re mumbling now, eyes beginning to drift shut. His licks and kisses are light, tender.

“Shh…” He mutters, softly ordering, “Turn off the light.”

Leaning over, you do, settling in even more than before. He feels you shuffle, nestling into your extraordinarily comfy bed. Resting between your legs, he holds onto you, gently massaging your muscles while he mouths at your sex. It’s something… different, something incredibly new and intimate. And when he hears your tiny yawn, it makes him happy. He really does want you to relax. Truthfully, this is all he’s thought about doing.

At first, you’re listening, your eyes drifting shut to the subtle sounds of him licking you. The sensation of it is delightful, his head resting on your right thigh while he keeps his mouth on you. The gentle vibrations of his occasional moans and hums lull you to sleep, drifting in and out of slumber as minutes quickly turn into a full hour. And Simon still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t stopped, nor slowed down, nor sped up. He’s just tasting you, enjoying this timid exploration. It’s a gentle indulgement, something he’s only dreamed of doing to you.

Your wetness trickles from the seams of your sex, and he continues to lick it up, hearing your little snores while he does. Lazily, his head rocks to a slow rhythm when he feels your thighs begin to quiver. But you’re still asleep, your breathing still steady.

The taste of you is tangy, but still genuinely sweet. It’s something he really does love. He could and will stay here for hours, for as long as he can. In the darkness, it feels so… private. So wonderfully personal and delicate.

It’s slow and lazy, the sleepy orgasm he brings to you. Your hips roll up against him, his lips suctioning ever so gently to your clit. He rides it out with you, feeling one of your hands pet at him. You’re smiling, just barely, still lost in the thoughts of your dreamscape.

Wetness spills from you, and he cleans it up with his tongue. You’re wet from him, his saliva lingering after your cum is gone. The roughness of his taste buds are dragged along your inner thighs, catching any juices he might’ve missed. But really, he just wants to savor it.

“B-Baby…” It’s small and quiet and just so… cute. You sound so sleepy and delicate.

Grunting quietly, Simon lifts himself, leaning onto his left forearm. With his free hand, he uses the back of it to wipe off his face, groaning from your subtle smell.

When he looks down, he can just barely see you in the darkness, one of your hands reaching for him. Leaning in, he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand, smiling before turning to kiss it. Shuffling around, he manages to maneuver his body next to yours. Your bed is backed into the corner of your room, and you’d been laying on the outer edge. But that side is closer to the window, and you sleeping right beside it just doesn’t sit well with him. So, he gently nudges you, moving you with his strong arms until you’re safely next to him.

“Baby,” You softly call again, whining quietly.

“I’m here, sweetness.” He finally returns, sliding one bulky arm beneath your head.

Turning on your side, he feels you bring yourself into his chest. For some reason, it surprises him, someone wanting to be this close to him. On his back, he relaxes, feeling one of your small hands slide across his chest. And then you do something that really shocks him, something that makes every vein in his body feel electric. Gently, you find and hold onto his dog tags.

Using his other hand, he slides it over yours and up to your forearm, holding you with it. And now, with one arm beneath your head and the other on your arm, he’s got you wrapped up in the secure cage of him.

He doesn’t know if he should say it, but with a deep sigh, he decides to go through with it. “I’m really… really glad I found you.”

In your sleepy state, you assume he’s talking about when he got back to base. The past few times, he’s always come looking for you. Little do you know, his words hold a deeper meaning. Sleepily, though, you respond to him.

“Always want you to.” Mumbling, you kiss his naked chest, sighing. “Always want you to come find me.”

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