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dee-writes-anime · 1 month ago

Note

Hiiii

If you’re not doing requests then feel free to ignore this, or if you dont wanna do this ignore or delete this if you’d like! I was wondering if you could possibly do bakugo x fem! Hawks daughter! Reader if possible?? She has wings like him but instead reader has large black wings? And if possible telekinesis?😖 I dont have a specific idea in mind but if possible they could be meeting for the first time or if they’re like together if you’re okay with that! Feel free to ignore or not do it if you’re not comfortable!!

Eat and drink! Have a good one ☺️

Bound by Blast Zones

FEATURING Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

SUMMARY Bakugo takes a liking (?) to Hawks' daughter

CONTENT WARNINGS Bakugo being Bakugo, brief descriptions of fighting, violence, BANTERRRR, fluff, angst (if you blink, you'll miss it)

AUTHORS NOTE this ask has had me in a chokehold ever since I read it!! This was the cutest idea and the opportunity for banter had me on the edge of my seat! thank you so so so so much @montybooks for sharing this beautiful idea! <3

The streets of Musutafu were alive with chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, and smoke coiled into the sky like jagged scars against the blue. Bakugo Katsuki skidded to a halt in the middle of the destruction, the sharp scent of burnt concrete filling his lungs. Another villain down, another notch in his belt—but the work wasn’t over yet. His crimson eyes scanned the wreckage, searching for any lingering threats or bystanders in need of evacuation.

The faint sound of wings slicing through the air snapped his attention skyward. A shadow darted across the sun, moving with precision and speed that rivaled any aerial hero he’d seen. His brow furrowed as the figure grew closer, the sun’s glare giving way to the sight of massive black wings. The sheer size of them was impressive, the way they moved even more so—controlled, purposeful, like every beat was calculated.

The figure descended gracefully, landing with a gust of wind that sent dust and debris swirling. When the air cleared, Bakugo’s scowl deepened, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. She stood before him, black wings folding neatly behind her back. Her dark hero suit hugged her form, the utility belt and protective padding marking her as someone who didn’t just rely on her quirk but understood the battlefield. Her posture was relaxed, almost casual, but there was an undeniable sharpness in her gaze—the kind that told him she didn’t miss much.

“Bakugo Katsuki?” Her voice cut through the noise around them. It was smooth, but it carried a subtle weight, a confidence that made him bristle.

“Tch. Who’s askin’?” he snapped, crossing his arms. His eyes darted to her wings, the sheer span of them making it impossible not to stare. They were nothing like Hawks’—darker, more imposing, less of a symbol and more of a statement.

She didn’t flinch at his tone, her lips curling into a faint smirk instead. “Blackwing. My dad said I might run into you.”

The name struck him like a stray spark. He narrowed his eyes. “Your dad?” His mind raced to piece it together, but when she tilted her head just slightly, her golden-brown eyes catching the light, it clicked.

“Wait… you’re Hawks’ kid?”

“Guilty as charged,” she replied, her smirk widening. “And you’re the guy who’s always yelling in the headlines.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled, though the faint heat rising in his cheeks betrayed his irritation. He’d spent years perfecting his hero image, but having it boiled down to “yelling” was infuriating.

“Relax, it’s a compliment,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “You’ve got a hell of a reputation. Dad said you’re… intense.”

“Damn right I am.” He straightened, puffing out his chest. “What’s it to you?”

Instead of answering, she crouched and raised her hand, her fingers splaying as if gripping something invisible. Bakugo watched as a chunk of debris—easily the size of a car door—lifted into the air. His eyes widened slightly as the slab hovered for a moment before she gently set it aside, clearing the path for the emergency workers. The air around her seemed to hum faintly as she stood, brushing her hands off.

“Wings and telekinesis? What are you, some kinda overachiever?” he muttered, trying to mask his genuine surprise with his usual snark.

She shrugged. “Guess I’m just efficient. Not bad for someone who’s ‘stealing the spotlight,’ huh?”

“I didn’t say that,” he snapped, though the edge in his voice softened slightly. There was something about her—her confidence, her ease on the battlefield—that he couldn’t ignore. Most people folded under his glare or tried too hard to impress him. She, on the other hand, acted like she had nothing to prove. It was… frustrating. And intriguing.

They worked in silence for a while, clearing debris and checking for civilians. He caught himself glancing at her more than he’d like to admit. The way her wings moved, instinctively shielding others from falling rubble, or the way her telekinesis allowed her to lift objects with the kind of precision he’d only ever seen in machines—it all made her stand out.

When the last of the wreckage was cleared and the villains were hauled away, Bakugo stood at the edge of the scene, watching as she spoke to one of the rescue workers. Her posture was still relaxed, but her wings shifted slightly, their dark feathers catching the light. He wondered what it was like to have that kind of presence—to be someone who could fly above the chaos and still keep control.

“You gonna keep starin’, or are you gonna say something?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was looking at him now, one brow raised, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I wasn’t starin’,” he shot back, scowling.

“Sure you weren’t,” she teased, her smirk returning. She stepped closer, her wings folding tightly against her back. “You’re not as scary as Dad made you out to be, you know.”

“Scary?” he repeated, his voice rising. “Who the hell said I was tryin’ to be scary? I’m a pro hero, not some damn—”

“Relax, Ground Zero,” she interrupted, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “You’re good at what you do. I’ll give you that.”

The unexpected praise caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He settled for a gruff, “Damn right I am.”

She laughed, a sound that was surprisingly soft given her sharp demeanor. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Bakugo. Try not to blow up too much in the meantime.” With that, she spread her wings and took off, the powerful beats kicking up dust as she soared into the sky.

Bakugo watched her disappear into the horizon, his scowl softening into something more thoughtful. She was annoying, sure. Cocky, like her old man. But there was something about her that stuck with him—something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“Blackwing, huh?” he muttered to himself, his lips twitching into the faintest of smirks. “Tch. Show-off.”

Weeks later, the crisp scent of autumn clung to the air as Bakugo trudged toward the staging area for his latest mission. The briefing had been clear: a rogue villain group with dangerous quirks was causing havoc in an abandoned factory outside the city. The task sounded simple enough—neutralize the villains, secure the hostages—but Bakugo had learned long ago that simplicity on paper rarely translated to reality.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Leaning against one of the transport vehicles, Blackwing looked every bit as casual as if she were waiting for a coffee order, her massive black wings folded lazily behind her. She tilted her head slightly when she spotted him, her smirk almost a challenge.

“You following me, Blackwing?” he barked, hefting his gear onto his shoulder with an exaggerated grunt.

“Please,” she replied, pushing off the vehicle with a fluid grace that irritated him for reasons he couldn’t explain. “You’re not that interesting. Besides, it looks like we’re stuck together for this one.”

“Tch. Great,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he turned his attention to the briefing officer. Despite his grumbling, there was an undeniable flicker of anticipation in his chest. Watching her on the field would give him something to focus on other than the noise in his own head.

The mission went sideways almost immediately.

The villains had fortified their position far better than expected, filling the factory with traps designed to incapacitate heroes. A dull orange glow filled the air as fires from earlier skirmishes crackled in the background, and the acrid stench of melted plastic and singed wood burned Bakugo’s nose.

He blasted through the front entrance, his explosions precise and deafening, but even his confidence took a hit when he saw the maze of barriers and booby traps ahead. Before he could charge in recklessly, Blackwing swooped past him, her wings kicking up a gust that momentarily cleared the smoke.

“Try not to set off every alarm in the place,” she called over her shoulder, already scanning the area with an analytical eye.

“I don’t need your advice!” he barked, but she was already moving.

Using her telekinesis, she disarmed traps with a finesse that made his blunt approach look almost amateur. Pieces of debris floated and shifted under her command, clearing paths for them to maneuver while neutralizing hidden explosives.

“You know,” she said as she floated a metal tripwire mechanism safely out of their path, “you could try being a little less predictable. You might even survive longer.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, vaulting over a barricade. “I’ve got this under control.”

It was a half-truth at best. As much as Bakugo hated to admit it, having her there was an advantage. She moved with calculated precision, her wings shielding her from attacks and her telekinesis providing a level of support he rarely experienced. She wasn’t just cleaning up after him—she was complementing his chaos with her control, and it made him grit his teeth in both irritation and reluctant admiration.

At one point, a villain dropped from the rafters above him, aiming a serrated knife at his unprotected back. Bakugo twisted too late, bracing for impact, but the attacker stopped mid-air, their body suspended in an invisible grip.

“Seriously?” Blackwing’s voice cut through the tension as she yanked the villain away with a flick of her wrist, slamming them into a wall hard enough to leave them unconscious. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo glared at her, heat rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Sure you didn’t,” she replied, her smirk returning as she turned to the next obstacle. “You’re lucky I’m here to keep you alive.”

They fought side by side for the rest of the mission, their synergy growing despite the occasional snide comment. By the time they reached the hostages and secured the villains, Bakugo found himself begrudgingly impressed.

As they walked back to the staging area, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, she nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Not bad, Ground Zero. Maybe we should do this more often.”

“Tch. Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The hero gala was every bit as obnoxious as Bakugo had expected—too many people, too much chatter, and absolutely no peace. He tugged at the collar of his suit jacket, already regretting letting Kirishima drag him here. The red-haired idiot had insisted that it was a great opportunity to make connections, but Bakugo had his own opinion: a waste of time.

Scowling, he scanned the room, trying to find the least crowded corner. The ballroom was grand, glittering chandeliers hanging high above polished floors, but all he could think about was how suffocating it felt. That was until he saw her.

She wasn’t in her usual hero suit, but the sight of her was just as commanding. The sleek black dress she wore hugged her figure in a way that was both elegant and effortless, while her dark wings draped behind her like a cloak. They caught the light with every slight movement, drawing attention despite her attempts to remain inconspicuous. She stood near the edge of the room, her posture as casual as ever, but her sharp eyes missed nothing.

“Don’t tell me you actually clean up,” Bakugo blurted as he approached her, his usual filter nonexistent.

She turned slowly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “And don’t tell me you actually know how to talk to people without growling.”

He bristled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I talk just fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Nice to see you too, Ground Zero.”

“Tch. Didn’t think this was your scene,” he muttered, his gaze drifting to her wings. Even in a room full of heroes, she stood out.

“Ditto,” she shot back. “But even I can play nice when I have to.”

They ended up gravitating toward the same quiet corner, away from the noise and spectacle. Bakugo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while she sipped on a glass of champagne, her wings shifting slightly as she adjusted her stance. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, though it was charged with something Bakugo couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“So, how’s the hero gig treating you?” she asked eventually, breaking the silence.

“Fine,” he replied curtly. “Same as always. Blow up some villains, save the day.”

“Charming,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Do you ever try to make a good impression, or is this just your thing?”

“I don’t need to impress anyone,” he snapped, though there was no real bite to his words. “What about you? Enjoying your dad’s shadow?”

Her expression flickered, just for a moment, before she shrugged. “I’m used to it. Comes with the wings, I guess.”

Bakugo frowned, realizing too late that his comment had hit deeper than he intended. “You’re not just ‘Hawks’ kid,’ you know,” he said gruffly. “You’re good. Real good.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the rare compliment. Then, she smiled—a small, genuine curve of her lips that made something in his chest tighten. “Thanks, Ground Zero. That almost sounded sincere.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.

As the night wore on, their conversation shifted. They talked about the absurdity of gala events, swapped stories of ridiculous villains they’d faced, and even argued over who had the more annoying fans. It was the most relaxed Bakugo had felt in a long time, though he’d never admit it out loud.

By the time the event began winding down, he found himself reluctant to leave. She turned to him, tilting her head slightly. “You know, you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not as annoying as I thought you’d be,” he replied, smirking.

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “Whatever.”

As she started to walk away, her wings brushing lightly against his shoulder, she glanced back at him. “See you around, Bakugo.”

He watched her go, the noise of the gala fading into the background. For once, he didn’t mind the chaos. Not when she was part of it.

Years later, Bakugo stood in front of the mirror, scowling at his reflection as he adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. The fabric refused to sit right, and every attempt to fix it seemed to make it worse. His palms felt clammy, a sensation he despised, and the faint sound of chatter filtering in from outside the room only worsened his irritation.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her sitting on the edge of their bed, her black wings folded neatly behind her. She wasn’t doing anything in particular, just watching him, her golden-brown eyes filled with a mix of amusement and affection. She’d always had that maddening ability to look completely unbothered, no matter the circumstances.

“Hard to believe you’re nervous,” she teased, the corner of her lips quirking up in a smirk that still managed to rile him up after all this time.

“I’m not nervous,” he snapped, tugging at the knot of his tie yet again. The way his hands fumbled with the fabric, though, betrayed him. He wasn’t one to show weakness, but something about today was different. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but the weight of the moment pressed on him in a way he couldn’t shake.

She stood, crossing the room in a few easy steps. Her wings shifted as she moved, brushing lightly against the edges of the furniture. Without saying a word, she took over, her fingers deftly fixing the tie with the ease of someone who’d done it a dozen times before. Her hands lingered for a moment as she smoothed his lapels, her touch grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she said softly, her voice steady and sure. It was the same tone she’d used on countless missions, the same quiet confidence that had drawn him to her all those years ago. “We both are.”

He huffed, crossing his arms as she stepped back to look him over. “Tch. You’re way too calm about this.”

“That’s why we work,” she replied, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “One of us has to be.”

His eyes flickered to her wings, the same imposing, beautiful black feathers that had once made her an unforgettable silhouette on a chaotic battlefield. Those wings had shielded him more times than he cared to count, but it wasn’t just the wings—it was her. The woman who’d gone from being a rival to a partner, from an annoyance to the most important part of his life.

The memory of their first meeting flashed through his mind: her sharp wit, her infuriating smirk, the way she’d effortlessly saved his ass while making him feel like she hadn’t even broken a sweat. And then the missions after that, where they’d learned how to move as a unit, her precision balancing out his explosive power. The late nights, the quiet moments, the laughter and arguments and everything in between—it had all led to this.

He glanced at her again, taking in the way her dress hugged her form, the subtle shimmer of her feathers in the light, the way her eyes held him steady even now. She looked like she belonged in the sky, untouchable, and yet here she was, tethered to him.

“You look good,” she said, breaking him from his thoughts. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, her touch steadying him even as his mind raced. “Even if you can’t tie a damn tie to save your life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “You don’t look half bad either.”

She laughed, a sound that still made his chest feel a little lighter, no matter the circumstances. “High praise from you, Ground Zero.”

“Don’t push it.”

As they prepared to step out of the room, the noise from outside growing louder, Bakugo couldn’t help but glance at her one last time. She caught his gaze, her head tilting slightly in question.

“What?” she asked, her brow arching.

He hesitated, the words forming in his throat feeling too soft, too vulnerable for someone like him. But as he looked at her, at the woman who’d been there through every explosion, every triumph and failure, he let himself say it anyway.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he muttered, his voice low but steady.

Her eyes softened, and she reached for his hand, her fingers lacing through his. “Always.”

As they stepped out to face the world together—whether it was a high-stakes mission, a major announcement, or their wedding day—Bakugo couldn’t help but reflect on how far they’d come. She wasn’t just his partner on the battlefield; she was his partner in every sense of the word. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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nexus-my-beloved · 5 months ago

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Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Klaus took the bullet for Dave in Vietnam. Klaus comes back (not realizing he should, in fact, be VERY dead) to a Dave that is heartbroken and thinks he is dead, scares the shit out of him by reassuring that he is not in fact a part of the afterlife, and brings up the briefcase and bringing Dave back with him to 2019. Dave agrees and Klaus gets on track to being semi-sober with Dave's help. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Ben didn't check the tank and blew it up like he was supposed to. A world where he walked home from the mission and waited for Five to come back like Viktor did when he made Five nutfluff sandwiches every night. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Allison didn't rumor Claire and went to therapy and took deep breaths and didn't mess things up. A world where she kept her daughter and even if she and Patrick split she still was in good graces to spend time with her kid. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Diego got Patch's message in time and managed to make it to the hotel room to either help her deal with Hazel & Cha-Cha or he got there before her injuries were too far gone and he was able to save her. A world where he kept her safe. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Luther let Five do his job instead of threatening to drop Dolores out the window to keep Five from murdering people that might kick-start the apocalypse. A world where Luther understood where Five was coming from and didn't threaten to break the only thing that Five had learned to love. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but someone found out Viktor had powers and helped get him off of his power-supressing meds and helped him figure out how to use them. A world where Viktor was helped rather than left to spiral into a mindless rage that would end the world. Umbrella Academy where everything is the same (NOT) but Five learns about the subway before meeting the Handler and he learns potential outcomes and how best to solve the apocalypse. A world where he takes the Handler's deal but he breaks down the comission (or at least removes her from it, creep) and gets back to his family, and despite looking young he is alive, everyone is alive, and he checks the subway regularly (that he has made a map of) for potential oncoming threats. He learned at a young age during one of his subway explorations that he would inevitably kill Lila's parents, and he never does it, pretends to get the mission done so that his cover isn't blown before he goes home. Umbrella Academy where everything turns out okay because Five utilized the subway, people listened to each other, and they didn't have poor timing. Umbrella Academy where things didn't hurt as bad. A "do-over", if you will. Like "The Day That Wasn't" episode.

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meownotgood · 2 months ago

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Wait you are so right about obsessive viktor!! Wth why didn't i connect that... He'd scourer piltover to find you! I like to think he's desperate to show you eveything he's gain and rationalize you running away from him as you being afraid if the "glorious unknown"

viktor would go one step further anon, he literally has hundreds of followers at his disposal. if you were somewhere in piltover or even in the depths of the undercity, he will find you. even if it means utilizing his commune, seeing through all of his followers' eyes at once in order to track you down. even if it means sneaking — or perhaps fighting his way — into piltover. you will see his vision, eventually. you must. you, out of everyone, must understand. you have always understood his ambitions, why would this be any different?

perhaps you doubt the lengths he is willing to go to. you believe you are far from his grasp. as you walk through the crowded streets of piltover, accidentally bumping into someone as you try to brush past — a hand finds your shoulder, stills you. your eyes catch with a stranger donning a placid, gentle smile, five arcane-touched imprints marked onto their face. their swirling eyes flutter, before their pupils gloss over to form pale, full moons.

and a voice you would recognize anywhere, viktor's voice, speaks through them.

"there you are."

#sorry anon I've had possessive viktor thoughts since I answered that first ask and I needed an excuse to share them #omnipotent guy. precious kind of dubious guy who's infatuated with you in the best and worst of ways #his desperation to have you at his side and further his evolution specifically with you TOGETHER #overpowers every other need within him #drowns out any of the hexcore's wishes #eats him. he tastes like grape #ask mags

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etheries1015 · 2 years ago

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Communication Chaos

Featuring: Isekei! (Kind of not really.) Reader x Tighnari

TW: none that I am aware of, but please do let me know if I missed any I will gladly update this section.

PT2: Cyno, Wanderer, Alhaitham, Kaveh

INTRO:

You wake up one day sitting on the bed of a small hut-looking building in Gandharva Ville after being found unconscious by the forest ranger known all around as Tighnari. The moment you opened your eyes and met the gaze of the multi-colored-eyed male, you felt a warm tingle of excitement and confusion fill your chest...however the moment he opened his mouth to greet you, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

You can’t understand a single word he just said.

Your excitement and curiosity are what caused him to fall for you, over time, of course.

When you awoke and sat up in the bed he had given you to rest, he walked towards you with a bowl of medicine.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Any pain from the injuries sustained? I wrapped your forearm in bandages and put together a concoction of medicine utilizing-” He stopped speaking mid-explanation when he noticed you stared at him wide-eyed, mouth open agape, similar signs of someone who hadn’t understood what was being said to them. He took this as a sign that he had to slow down his form of speech, thus he continued with that in mind.

“U-uh...” you interrupted him, using your hands signaling he should stop by waving them around in front of you apprehensively. You weren’t sure what you could possibly say, standing in front of you was THE Tighnari of the video game “Genshin Impact” you played in the comforts of your homeland, yet he seemed to speak none of the languages you were remotely accustomed to hearing. You looked around for any form of a hint of what language he spoke so you could attempt to communicate, however, It was at that moment that you realized it must have been Teyvats natural language by the writing on the pile of papers that sit on the desk next to the bed graciously given to you by Tighnari. He cocked his head to the side and ear twitched, waiting for you to speak as you had stopped him from talking previously.

“I...don’t understand what you’re saying, I’m...sorry...” You trailed off as you noticed Tighnari holding perhaps even a more shocked expression than you at the language difference. He had of course been a graduate of the Akedemiya, a place in which learning many different languages was a must prior to graduation, yet you were there speaking in a language he had never remotely heard of. Coming to terms with this, he nodded slowly before continuing with his previous actions. Taking the bowl of medicine and a wooden spoon, he scooped it up and urged it towards you, inviting you to try it. You hesitated for a moment, looking from the spoon, and up to his gentle gaze before leaning forward to take a bite. He smiled and nodded satisfied with this. Once you had finished the medicine you felt yourself become drowsy, feeling yourself sway slightly as he took the back of your head to lean you back onto the bed. You were soon sleeping soundly once again, not noticing the slight look of worry that was still upon the fennecs features.

Time had passed, your injuries were fully healed. Chalking it up to amnesia, Tighnari had decided to take care of you while you were in an unfamiliar place and unable to communicate where exactly you should have been. He started to teach you a bit about the language in teyvat by simply pointing to things and slowly emphasizing how they were said, and encouraging you to say certain phrases such as “I’m hungry” before giving you food. You were eager to learn, and he began to feel his heart beat slightly faster at every smile, every giggle, and every little phrase you had learned. He tried to convince himself that he had only felt the affection of a teacher for a student, but he couldn’t quite place why you felt different than when he had taught Collei new things.

“By the way, (y/n),” Tighnari said while mixing up a new batch of herbs, “How old are you?” This sentence was a bit more complex, however, you could tell he had used your name (it had taken him some time to properly pronounce it, you had to emphasize the letters frequently and he had to be reminded multiple times how to properly pronounce it), and had some form of a question by the upward connotation he had used. You replied with a light hum and a tilt of your head. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, thinking about how to go about this question, before perking up and rushing outside. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking slightly puzzled at his sudden disappearance. He quickly returned with what looked like an arm full of small rocks, sitting on the ground before arranging them in a manner that was organized with lines of rocks. He then began to point to one rock at a time and say a word each time he pointed, which you could make out to be counting in his language, before pointing to himself once finishing counting the rocks he lay out. You were slightly confused until he did it again and pointed to himself more aggressively to try and get the point across.

“Ohhh! Your age? you’re asking me how old I am?” You asked, smiling brightly and giggling. You noticed his cheeks beam a light shade of pink as you did this, however, you didn’t pay too much attention to the meaning behind it as you started to count back the rocks he had placed in your own native language.

“You’re (his age)? Huh. Well..” You began to rework the rocks to the number of your own age, to which he responded with a smile as he began to count...in YOUR language. He was attempting to repeat the same way you counted, however, he fell apart slightly after getting to the number seven. Your eyes widened, as you realized he hadn’t attempted to speak your language whatsoever since you came before. You stood up, jumping up and down out of joy and giggling slightly. “oh my goodness! Tighnari!” You beamed, running over to him and gently grabbing his hands and shaking them up and down with carefulness. Just another thing he noticed he liked about you, you respected the fact that he seemed to not enjoy loud noises, and always touched him with care and made sure to watch his mannerisms in order not to offend him. You were never too much for him, you had always respected his boundaries even when he could not explicitly state so.

You tried to urge him to get up and move to the other side of the room, where on the wall lay a tapestry he had obtained for you that was covered in different flowers and animals. You then pointed to a butterfly that was sewn into the tapestry, looking at him with the pure excitement of learning and experiencing. He chuckled slightly, gaze looking down at you with pure affection before you both shared your way of saying words such as “butterfly” and “flower.” You were learning each other’s languages together, and he had felt a warm tingling in his heart with every smile, with everything you pointed to, with the way you had been quick to learn something new with an open mind and determination.

His feelings only grew from there, Only solidifying as time spent with you went on and you had taken the time and energy to learn all sorts of things, he had deeply admired the fact you paid close attention to him while he was speaking, even when you hadn’t fully understood the context of his words. He felt as if he could rant to you about anything and everything, no language barrier could break apart the feelings that began to harbor in his heart for the person that had stumbled upon his life and taken time to learn from him, about him, and look at the world with such...beauty, interest, and curiosity. Even though there were times of frustration when neither of you could figure out what was trying to be said, you always seemed to hold your head high and not falter, those moments of annoyance seeming to become fuel for your determination to work through the issues you had with a level head and motivate you to become better than you had been before.

He hadn’t meant to confess so soon, however, the comment seemed to have come out nonchalantly. Even a scholar cannot help but make a fool of himself sometimes when it comes to falling in love, a feeling of which he had not fully convinced himself by the time he admitted it to you. You were helping him take his rounds in the forest, though he made it a point to avoid dangerous withering zones for your sake. He had noticed you stopped following next to him, instead, you had gotten distracted by a specific flower that lay on the ground next to a particularly large tree.

“Sumeru rose,” He said slowly, kneeling next to you. You nodded and looked at the flower with such gentleness, innocence, and love.

“Sumeru rose...I love it,” You said, petting the soft purple petals with your hand. He had heard you use this phrase often when talking about things that lit your face up with joy, such as food he had cooked you, little trinkets he had brought to you to learn from, certain words that you seemed to like...he didn’t need a translation to tell that you were using that phrase to express deep likeliness for something. in a moment of overwhelming love and affection, Tighnari picked up the flower from its stem to remove it from the ground it had to lay in before using his other hand to gently grasp your cheek and turn your gaze towards his own, tucking the purple bloom behind your ear and repeating your phrase,

“I love it.”

He had said this with such gentleness, a slight accent that you found adorable, and with the perfect amount of emotion and overwhelming endearment.

Silence rang between the two of you, your face gradually growing a deep shade of red, standing up in a rush before quickening your pace.

“Yes, oh look, a pretty butterfly!” You tried to take his attention off of yourself by pointing and excitingly ready to learn as usual, as if he hadn’t just confessed something which you were not even certain he meant. You hadn’t noticed that his gaze had not left you, yet you refused to look back and let him see how much you were red-faced and smiling right now.

“L-let’s keep going! come on!” You told Tighnari, not bringing yourself to turn to look at him.

“Ah-!” He stood up with an equal amount of panic, his face also turning a shade of red. He quickly caught up to you, “Are you okay?” He asked in his own language, you had indeed understood this phrase this time around after your time of studying with the forest ranger, however, your answer came out in a rush while trying to deflect the conversation.

Perhaps some more time will grant both of you to finally come to terms with the new idea of “love,” And you could learn to properly communicate this feeling one day in confidence with words, rather than uncertainty.

#Tighnari #Tighnari X reader #Tighnari Genshin Impact #Genshin impact imagines #Genshinimpact fanfic #Tighnari fanfic #Tighnari Genshin X reader #Tighnari Gesnhin Impact X reader #Genshin impact X reader #Genshin X reader

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 2,000 Warnings: Some angst

Part 1: Proximity

You’ve grown up watching your parents. At fourteen, you already understood how rare their relationship was—high school sweethearts, married for sixteen years, and certified soulmates.

Apparently it was even more rare to find your soulmate so early in life, but as Mom said, Sometimes the universe helps you out.

But you just started high school, and after surveying the pool of guys you have to work with, you really hope that “universe” stuff is just wishful thinking.

Because just this morning, Danny Schmitt got his hand stuck in the automatic stapler during Math class. Meanwhile, his friends were collecting bets on how many stitches he was going to need once they finally pried his fingers out.

Dad would call those guys dumbasses. You were inclined to agree.

You looked away from the scene (there was a lot of blood, and now your teacher was trying to free Danny with the only tool in the utility closet: a large hammer). But you couldn’t focus on your busy work like your teacher instructed either.

Sometimes, you still found it hard to believe your parents had met in high school. They had such an easy way between them, and not just because they could hear one another’s thoughts.

Mom was a kindergarten teacher, patient, kind, and encouraging. She came from a family of professors and school administrators, who frankly thought she could’ve done more with her life than “wipe five year olds’ noses.” Last Thanksgiving, she smiled and told Great Aunt Janet, “At least my five year olds can wipe their own asses.”

Smirking, Dad had followed up with, “How’s the incontinence, Jan? Ain’t lettin’ up at all?”

Dad was a cop, though he wasn’t as strict as he could've been. Or as dumb as cops seemed to be in the movies.

No, your dad could be stern, but he was always fair, even if you…didn’t really hang out with him much. Mom was basically your best friend, while Dad was often too busy to know what was going on in your life.

Really, you just couldn’t see what your parents had in common, other than the dusty, midwestern town where they’d grown up. (Speaking of which, you shivered and zipped your coat higher up on your neck. Even indoors, winter in South Dakota was nothing to sneeze at.)

But your parents would share a look sometimes. Your mom would smile, and your dad’s mouth would quirk up at the corner, his eyes softening in a way they only did for her. And then you’d remember that they had their own world that you couldn’t really understand just yet.

“All right,” your teacher said. He wiped sweat from his brow while Danny’s friends carried him off to the nurse’s office. The stapler was in pieces on the floor, but poor Danny still had two huge staples in his index and ring fingers. “I think we’re done for the day. Just finish workbook pages for chapter three and we’ll cover it tomorrow.”

Yes! Math was not your strongest subject, but even you could finish four more square root problems. The teacher’s desk phone rang while you gathered your backpack and books. You were about to leave the classroom when your teacher called you back. You didn’t like the somber look on his face.

“You need to get to the principal’s office,” he said. “Your dad is there waiting for you.”

You didn’t know it then, but today was the day your childhood died—after Dad sat you down and told you what happened to your mom.

Winter in South Dakota was harsh. It could even be dangerous, especially on icy roads shared with grocery truck haulers.

They buried Mom in the same cemetery as your grandparents and your aunt (not Janet, by the way. You didn’t really remember your Aunt Karen, but your dad always avoided talking about his sister). The cemetery was small, but you guessed that made sense for a smallish town like Sioux Falls.

You stayed there until everyone else who loved your mom was gone, and it was just you and your dad left.

You didn’t bother to wipe your tears—not until your dad set a hand on your shoulder. You tried to wipe them away quickly, even though you didn’t really know why you didn’t want him to see you crying. He just gave you this look. In his eyes, you could see every fathom of his heartbreak. In a way, it told you everything you needed to know about your dad.

So you leaned into his side, and he held you close while the icy winds whipped at both of you.

Snow crunched beneath someone’s feet, and you turned to see a man walking down the row of headstones. He looked kind of familiar…

He had a thick beard and wore a baseball cap, but he took it off once he got close enough to pay his respects—first to Mom…then to Aunt Karen.

“Jack,” he greeted with a nod of respect.

You looked up at your dad, and the free emotions he’d been wearing clammed up behind a more familiar stern expression.

“Bobby,” he said, nodding back. Realization finally dawned on you. Oh, Uncle Bobby?

You hadn’t seen your uncle since you were…ten? Probably since Aunt Karen’s funeral.

“I’m real sorry about Christine,” Uncle Bobby said. He sounded a bit gruff, but his eyes were kind when they met yours sympathetically. “About your mom.”

Another tear fell down your cheek, but you nodded and wiped it away, sniffling.

“Thank you,” your dad said eventually. There was a brief, but awkward pause. Then Bobby nodded to himself and walked away, setting that faded blue baseball cap back on his head. You watched him go curiously.

“You remember your uncle,” Dad said. He didn’t seem happy about it.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why didn’t he stay?”

He was family, after all.

Dad shook his head. There was a wry downturn to his lips. “He’s got a junk heap to look after.”

You frowned in confusion. But he didn’t explain what he meant. He just steered you back toward the car to go home.

Just as you both crossed under the iron arch to leave the cemetery, Dad reached into his pocket and gave you something. Your mom’s wedding ring.

“You can wear it if you want,” he said. “Or just keep it safe. Either way, just remember…she’s still with you. And I’m always gonna watch over you.”

The thought made you feel the slightest bit better, and also worse. Still, you took the ring and held it between your fingers. It was simple sterling silver, but beautiful all the same.

You got into his pick-up truck and he started the drive home. Just as you turned the corner, you hit a red light. You stared out the window as snow started a light fall, flurrying down to the damp pavement. Soon the ground would be icy and wet, and that reminded you of grocery trucks. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were sick of it. Sick of crying.

It actually annoyed you…or…did it?

A feeling fluttered in your chest. It felt like anxiety and irritation all wrapped up into one. And another feeling, this time attached to a thought. It felt hot in your throat, and a lot like—

It’s not fair!

The thought startled you. Because somehow (and you didn’t know why), it didn’t feel like you were the one that thought it.

Finally, the street light turned green. It flashed in the corner of your eyes, and then you noticed a sleek, black car coming in the opposite direction. You watched it pass by for a moment, until your dad distracted you with a question.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. You blinked, trying to register what he said while you shook off the weird things you were feeling. Once your brain caught up to your mouth, you were finally able to answer.

“Not really.”

“Come on. I’ll get us a burger.”

You shrugged, but for once you really weren’t hungry.

“Dad, come on,” Dean said in frustration. On one hand, he didn’t want to argue with his dad.

On the other hand, this really wasn’t fair!

He was seventeen already. He’d gone on a handful of hunts with John before, so why not this one?

“Too dangerous,” John said. He looked over at Dean from the Impala’s driver’s seat. His tone boded no further argument. “Djinn are tricky. Even seasoned hunters have trouble with ‘em.”

Dean frowned. “I’m ready, Dad.”

“Do we have to go to Bobby’s house?” Sam piped up from the back seat. At thirteen, he was getting more and more lippy.

“Cheaper than a motel.” John smiled, then glanced at his younger son through the rear-view mirror. “Besides, why not Bobby’s?”

Sam sighed. “His heater doesn’t always work.”

“Well, I’ll help him take a look before I go,” John replied. Dean stared at the side of his dad’s face for a while, but he knew a lost argument when he saw one.

…Still, he couldn’t help but try.

“Dad,” Dean pressed.

John’s gaze stayed on the road. “Not this time, son. You and Sam’ll be okay at Bobby’s.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, bored at Bobby’s. But he knew it was better than being left at a crusty motel room. He was annoyed, but he could deal with it.

Until something else began to creep up in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt since…since his mom died.

It was this ball of lead in his chest, weighing him down and constricting his throat. It felt a lot like…like fear, and sadness. And finally confusion. He was confused?

Maybe.

Sad? Afraid? Not really, no. At least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t thought about his mom like that in a while…

So what the hell?

Those sensations only lasted for a moment—the time it took them to finally cross the street at the red light and pass a pick-up truck going the opposite way.

But that moment seemed to drag on for minutes. Now he really was confused.

He sat still, hesitating, until the feeling eventually passed.

“Hey, Dean, where’s the Batman comic?” Sam leaned up by his ear to ask.

Dean almost flinched. He played it off though, and turned to look back at his brother.

“It’s in my bag, but wait ‘til we get to Bobby’s.”

“Why? That’s like, a whole ten minutes away,” Sam pointed out.

“Because my bag’s under a ton of stuff back there. Just leave it for a few minutes,” Dean said. He sensed that Sam was about to get all bitchy and not let it go, but then John cut in.

“He’s right, Sam. Just cool it until we get there.”

Sam frowned, slumping into his seat with an annoyed huff. Wanting to tease him out of his kid funk, Dean smirked, reached back and playfully tapped his knee. “Yeah, cool it.”

Sam slapped his hand away. “Stop.”

“Make me, dork.” Accompanied by another teasing flick to his ear. Sam hit him back, and it would’ve devolved into an immature, but not uncommon free-for-all, if not for John’s heavy sigh and a sharp warning.

“Boys, enough!”

Then the car was silent. Sam huffed again and settled back into his seat. Dean tapered down his smile and sat back in his too. He looked out the window and saw the snow beginning to fall. Without meaning to, his mind drifted back to that weird feeling in his chest.

He rubbed his chest absently. But soon enough, he forgot about it. Just like you did.

Neither of you realized exactly what happened that day.

It was the first tug of a lifelong bond, seared into your souls.

AN: Okay, this is my first soulmate AU! Maybe the end was a little melodramatic there lol.

Let me know in the comments what you think! Then keep reading. ;)

Here it is: Part 2.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn #spn fics #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #bobby singer #john winchester #soulmates #dean x female reader #soulmate au #fluff #some angst #dean winchester x female reader #zepskies writes

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on-a-lucky-tide · 1 year ago

Text

When Simon struggles, he finds Price for relief.

CW: D/s dynamics without it being explicitly outlined, blowjob, a bit of yearning Price.

Price looked up at the sharp rap on his office door and blinked out of the trance-like concentration that had kept him focused for four hours solid, without even a coffee break. The nearby clock said 0200 in flickering red numbers, which meant it could only be one person. No one else sought him out at such an ungodly bloody hour without an imminent mission.

"Come in, Simon."

The handle twisted instantly, like Simon's hand had been resting on it in readiness, and the looming figure of Ghost crossed the threshold. But it wasn't Ghost who needed attention now; Ghost was asleep, waiting for the moment he was needed once more, which had left Simon Riley to surface. The mask did little to hide the difference; Ghost moved like a force of nature, unrepentant and ruthless, but Simon... he moved like a man uncertain whether he was even real.

Price threw his biro down and leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side. He knew that waiting for Simon to speak was futile; he never would, not in these fragile early hours when he was exposed like a raw nerve. So it fell to Price to take on the burden of deciding, just like in the field.

Price turned his chair to face to the side and Simon drifted over to stand before him, his fingers twitching at his sides in regular little ticks. The tension hummed off of him like radiation, a tight heat on a hair trigger. Price tilted his chair back, fingers twined together over his belly as he looked up at his officer.

Other than his mask, Simon had presented himself practically naked. Well, by Ghost's standards. Cotton shirt, trousers held up by an empty belt, not even a utility knife at the side, his boots were unlaced where he had clearly rolled from his cot and shoved his feet into them in a hurry. Price couldn't see his eyes; the light in the office was too dim, the battered lamp only enough to illuminate the dossier he'd been working on. The shadows hid Simon from him.

He spread his knees and dipped his chin towards the floor. "On your knees, lieutenant," Price said, and Simon obeyed. He dropped between Price's knees without hesitation, hitting the old rug with a dull thud. His shoulders remained squared, his arms rigidly at his sides, but now he was looking up at Price with doe-wide eyes, and Price felt the first stirrings in the pit of his stomach.

He made Simon wait as he evaluated those eyes, the only window he had into the man before him. They were still blacked out but the camo had partially smeared off in sleep; Price could see a few wisps of a blonde eyebrow and damn if Simon didn't have the fullest lashes Price had ever seen on a man.

"The airport," Price said, and saw a flicker in Simon's eyes that confirmed it. "I see."

Price leaned forward and saw the first judder in Simon's composure; a hitch in his chest, a twitch of his broad shoulders. There was no point in telling Simon it wasn't on him; Price carried the rank so he carried the responsibility. All Simon would be thinking of was the families he hadn't saved; the stand-ins for everything he'd lost. Ghost understood; collateral damage, the enemy taking their pound of flesh. That was just what happened in the field. Simon needed help forgetting and letting it go, because he would never be able to understand.

Now, Price wasn't a fool. He knew they were one and the same man, but trauma did something to a man's head. Fuck, it had done a number on his that he was sure some army psych would take great joy in unravelling when it eventually all caught up with him, but they managed in their own ways. Simon has pulled on a mask and called it Ghost, because his call sign was the one defence he had left.

So, to reach Simon, the mask had to come off. Just a little.

Price reached forward and Simon flinched from his hands despite the needy jut of his chin. "Stand easy," he said, the words falling out naturally as they would with any twitchy greenhorn about to take his first jump. Calm authority. And it worked on Simon like a dream; his chin pressed into Price's palm and his shoulders eased.

Price held him there, letting Simon rest in the literal and metaphorical safety of his commanding officer's hands. He felt the warm puffs of breath from Simon's nose on his wrist, and squeezed only enough to feel the strong lines of Simon's jaw. A handsome bloke, if memory served. One day, he'd get this damned mask all the way off and admire it once again, even with all of Simon's past etched and burned into it.

Price hooked his thumbs beneath it and curled it up until it folded just over the tip of Simon's nose. Those intense eyes were flickering, alert, and Price let them settle again until he turned to tracing Simon's lips. They were so unique; full, pale, gnarled across one corner by the scar twisting from his jaw to his cheek, disappearing beneath the band of his balaclava.

Simon was breathing a little heavier; excitement, anxiety, it didn't matter, the body reacted the same. Hairs on end, goosebumps on pale skin. Simon wouldn't pull away, wouldn't stop Price at any point. In these early hours, Price could make him do anything, which was precisely why he couldn't. Simon would shatter and Ghost would be there to harvest the pieces, absorbing them until Simon disappeared forever. Price would only go as far as they always did, because he couldn't risk losing Simon. Not this way.

"You're a good man for coming to me," Price said, the low timbre of his whisper sounding loud in the small office. "Always so good. So loyal."

Price tugged at Simon's lower lip and then stroked the pad of his thumb over Simon's teeth; Simon opened obediently under the lightest touch, and Price stroked his tongue, cupping that strong jaw as Simon surrendered to him, each breath coming easier. "Good, lieutenant. Come on, show me what you want..."

Simon's eyes flickered and rolled, his mouth closed only to suck Price in as far as his thumb would go, those full lips pressing down to his palm with the softest groan as the last of Simon's hesitant restraint tumbled away, like glacier ice cracking off a distant mountain.

"Ahh, there you are, Simon. Good boy." Price pressed a little on Simon's tongue and looked down between his knees. The front of Simon's trousers were bulging out, but his big hands remained firmly on his thick thighs; thighs that Price would give his damn pension to have wrapped around his waist, they would snap him in half and he'd be bloody grateful for it.

The heat under his own skin throbbed warmer and he spread his legs a little further, yielding space to his hardening prick. As if he could sense Price's building arousal, Simon sucked harder, his teeth grazing Price's skin. "Hmm, eager to please, I see." Price pressed down, urging Simon's mouth open, as he pulled at his belt and button. It took only a little fumbling for him to free his cock, the shaft sitting over the elastic of his boxers and dripping shamelessly. Price grunted, a little abashed at his own eagerness. "You do things to me, lad."

Simon's eyes flickered between Price's face and his prick, his tongue wriggling beneath the weight of Price's thumb. "Fuck," Price breathed, fingers tightening on Simon's jaw once more. He eased thumb free and then his foreskin back until his frenulum could tease over the soft, supple skin of Simon's lower lip. Simon held fast, his eyes not leaving Price's face, and Price let him see the pleasure, the admiration.

He teased himself on Simon's lips, rocking backwards and forwards, leaking into his lieutenant's mouth until Simon's tongue was saturated in scent and taste. Price couldn't deny the feral attraction of it; of having Lieutenant Simon Riley on his knees, Ghost tamed into quiet submission, all that power coiled away, and the man himself so desperate to submit.

Simon's tongue curled up to press at Price's slit and Price groaned as his glans yielded to the tip of it. "Impatient, as always," Price said, the words croaked through a miasma of listless pleasure. He leaned back and drew Simon with him, sliding that hot, eager mouth down his shaft. Price wasn't sure what was better; the wet, needy heat that swallowed him to the root, or the way that Simon's eyes rolled back into his bloody head.

Simon pushed his nose to Price's groin, his throat spasming reflexively. "Steady," Price managed, checking the swell of his own excitement as his balls pulled tight. Fuck, so soon? His own bloody thoughts had ridden him to the razor edge and Simon hadn't got his fill yet. Price let his head fall back and closed his eyes, but his hand stayed on Simon's chin, not guiding once Simon had slowed so much as holding. He pressed his thumb into Simon's cheek and felt his prick slide through Simon's mouth and it was almost enough to shove him over the brink.

"Bloody hell," Price hissed through clenched teeth as Simon drew off to lick through his slit again, seeking that concentration of taste and arousal. He licked the thick vein that snaked up from the base, finishing just shy of the tip and then slowed. Slowed right down. Price played with the fuzz of blonde hair at the back of Simon's neck, revealed as his mask hitched a little higher, and felt the cooler tip of Simon's nose at the cusp of his boxers, the puff of hot breath and another deep, guttural groan, and Price's stomach bunched tight.

It was sweet, sweet torture, but Simon was teasing him deliberately, baiting him out for something a little more, and Price gave gladly. He pushed his lieutenant back enough to stand, before hauling him around by the chin until the back of his head pressed to the edge of his desk, cushioned by the meat of Price's free hand.

Simon's mouth hung open for him and Price thrust in deep with a low growl. Price rolled his hips slowly, savouring each drag of Simon's lips and tongue down his shaft, but he couldn't temper his pace for long. He moved faster, stopping only just short of ramming Simon's head back into his hand. Simon's eyes were closed, his body completely slack, and the absolute submission was enough to rip Price's orgasm from him.

His hips stuttered as he emptied down Simon's throat and the lad took it all, consumed every last drop of it, and Price once again revelled in the power yielded to him. He may never have Simon over his desk in the way he wanted, but fuck was he going to enjoy every shred of him he could have like this.

Price dropped Simon's chin in favour of propping himself up and watched as Simon licked absently at his softening prick, the sparks of oversensitivity leaping up his bloody spine like burning shrapnel.

When he was certain his legs would hold him, Price pulled back, returning to wipe Simon's mouth clean of spit and cum. Simon hung in his hands, soft and light, and Price stared at his lips. The urge to kiss in these moments after was almost overpowering, a breath between Price and the taste of himself in his Simon's mouth. Ahh, and there was the bloody problem. His. Not now, not ever.

Price swallowed and sat back on his heels, discarding the scarf he'd used to clean Simon's face, and eased Simon's mask back into place. He rose on aching legs, the afterburn of his climax making him a little dizzy. "Bed. Now. Mess at 0600."

Simon uncurled to his full height - all six-foot-giant of him - and left without a word. Price slumped at his desk and stared at the ceiling. The dossier would have to wait. He felt like he'd just run Test Week at double time.

***

"Ahh, L.T., bit of a wee bounce in yer step t'day. Get lucky at the bar?"

"Focus on the mission, Soap."

"Ahh geddit, you don' kiss an' tell, pwoper English gent."

As Ghost walked to the back of the plane, Price was sure Simon glanced at him from beneath that balaclava, but it was Ghost that rumbled through the intercom. "Ready, sir."

"Ghost takes point, radio silence until we rendezvous at agreed coordinates, go."

Ghost slid his rifle behind his back and threw himself into free fall.

#call of duty #cod: mw #simon ghost riley #captain price #priceghost #ghostprice #john price

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 6 months ago

Note

You’ve got a Deegan headcanon post in the works?👀 helloo heaven

Edward Deegan is hands-down my absolute favorite, lesser discussed ghoul. I wanna climb that big manservant motherfucker like a tree, and I'm so bummed that you can't recruit him as a companion after you finish the storyline he's involved in. If y'all like him as much as I do and you haven't read the Deegan fics on AO3 written by user Iron_Angel, you're missing out big time! They definitely see eye-to-eye with me in terms of how that man would be characterized if he was utilized more.

Edward Deegan (Fallout 4) NSFW Headcanons

Massive slut. Bisexual. Smooth. Some ghouls spend decades, centuries with no intimate contact, too depressed about their circumstances or self-conscious about their bodies to put themselves out there. Not the case with Edward; this man is hot-to-trot and not very discerning about where he sticks his dick, frankly. If the vibe is right in the moment, he's down, and it's gotten him into some very interesting situations before. He enjoys the company (as well as the validation that he's still at least somewhat attractive) and he's always had a pretty high sex drive. Plus, working for the Cabot family for so long ensures he's always dealing with some kind of nonsense that necessitates a lot of stress relief during his off-hours. The number one piece of advice he would give literally anyone is "Don't fuck crazy"; he would also follow that up with a clarifying "Do as I say, not as I do."

110% fucked his way through the entirety of Cabot house. He and Wilhelmina had a one-time fling when he was a young man, before he even became a ghoul, but both of them would vehemently deny anything like that ever happening if you brought it up. He and Imogen always had an antagonistic relationship, but during the rare seasons they were getting along well enough they'd be (hate) fucking on every single surface in the house. The person he had the closest thing to a real relationship with was Jack; the two were quite close, and slept together off and on throughout the years, but ultimately Edward understood him well enough to know that Jack Cabot was too interested in himself and his work to ever really be a good partner to anyone. Edward does want to settle down with someone, ultimately, but he doesn't want to settle, and he has the time to spare to wait for the right person, doesn't he?

BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN. Dude is hung and not afraid to show it off (see number one). Definitely more of a "show-er" than a "grow-er", but hey, you're probably not gonna be all that disappointed when a soft 6.5" turns into a hard 7". Pretty large, low-hanging balls. Loves having them played with; put your mouth on them and he's basically in love with you already. Cums a ton, of course, but also cums with a lot of force; careful if you're stroking him off! Protect your eyes!

Ass man, very into anal. Even if you're too intimidated by the size of him to let him actually fuck you in the ass, he'll beg you to let him shove his tongue/his fingers/a plug in instead. About half the time he clocks giving head is actually eating ass. Likes to bite your glutes and the upper part of your thigh to hear you squeal and loves covering your ass in hickeys/bruises.

Big, big domestic kink that cuts both ways. He's spent a lot of his long life taking care of others, so it very much comes second nature to him when caring for a partner. His taste buds may be warped by time and his condition, but he's still a fairly impressive chef, and he's very thoughtful when it comes to doing things around the house that help you out/make things easier for you. You'll really be in good with him if you show a penchant for the same sort of thoughtful behavior, and he'll be ready to bend you over the kitchen counter if he finds out you can cook.

He's got a breeding kink he'd rather not discuss (unless you get a little booze in him and get him alone). Grew up in a big Catholic family pre-war, so the possible origins of the kink weird him out to think about, but that doesn't stop his brain from churning out thoughts about how he should knock you up when he's getting close to finishing. Will definitely gaslight you about it a little bit. No, he did not make you beg him to cum inside you last night; you just get so crazy when you're close that you start begging for it, and what's he supposed to do, tell you no? It's your fault, anyway, for being so attractive and, uh…breedable.

Very playful once you get close to him; he likes horseplay and he enjoys sort of wrestling around, especially because it's an easy way to initiate a little physical contact between him and whoever he's interested in. Also a good way to flex his strength a bit, which has always been an easy way for him to impress. He's also a bit of a bully when he's in the right mood, and it isn't difficult to goad him into being a mean dom if that's what you're looking for.

#Iron_Angel if you're reading this I'm kissing you with tongue #edward deegan #fallout 4 #fo4 #edward deegan x sole survivor #imogen cabot #jack cabot #wilhelmina cabot #submission

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melancholictunes · 1 month ago

Text

Wow. I wonder what changed. /s

Welcome to the 'Please Optimize My Weak Heart AU'! Feel free to ask any questions about it. Enjoy :]

(2)

Stanley's footsteps echoed throughout the paradoxical office space, continuing the nth run through what Narrator dubbed 'The Stanley Parable'. Meta commentary regarding his sentience whilst endlessly wandering within this monotonous loop of a 'game' aside, both him and his omniscient-but-actually-has-a-physical-form acquaintance (he'll have to work on that one) have been gradually pursuing the game together on a few occasions. Frankly, Stanley would have to ask the Narrator to add another set of fingers on his model to count how many times they've physically witnessed each other playing their respective narrative roles.

However, there have been recurring instances where Stanley noticed that The Narrator would place his hand onto his chest while speaking his lines. As if there was a chance he could flub sentences he has perfected ten times over. It seemed to be a force of habit. A minute observation of a common behavior. At least, that's what Stanley previously thought.

Although, there was something very clearly wrong with The Narrator. What first ticked off an unsettling gut feeling within Stanley was when The Narrator's hand reflexively tightened against his chest during a run-through of the Zending Ending. His fingers were edged between a fist position and a strained one. There was a subtle twitch of his eyebrow that Stanley clocked as a reaction Narrator would only make when he was injured. Paired with that, he grit his teeth hard enough to clench his jaw. That was new to Stanley. Yet, it told the office worker all he needed to know. If that wasn't enough to worry him, the creaking and popping sounds that could be heard coming from Narrator cemented his concerns. It was as if sheets of metal were coming loose and whining from the strain of being poorly held together. Stanley understood that he had yet to ask Narrator what exactly he was. Not that he'd get a sufficient answer. While his hand hesitated to agree with his mind to reach out, Narrator blipped from his vision, which left wisps of dust that were left behind his sudden exit. Causing Stanley to grip nothing, even the dust fled from his movements.

That was their last run side by side.

From then on, The Narrator has maintained their relationship as it has been before the Incident.

However, even that couldn't stop identical sounds he had heard from bleeding through the microphone. He had half a mind to pester Narrator about it. The other half knew he shouldn't. So, he did the latter.

During this particular run, Narrator began his dialogue regarding the two doors. “Stanley walked through…” Stanley was amidst tuning the repetitiveness out, when there was a violent sizzle and pop loud enough to peak the microphone. Then, a faint curse had managed to be picked up in the aftermath. Stanley's eyebrows pinched closer together, his footsteps coming to a halt as he noted the irregular use of profanity.

[Narrator? Are you okay?]

“Yes! Yes, o-of course I am. Just give me a moment! Technical difficulties, ha-ha.”

Then, radio silence.

His response wasn't reassuring in the slightest. Stanley couldn’t help but roll his eyes and pinch his temples due to the forcibly cheery tone that he utilized to mask the pain underneath. As if Stanley could be put at ease with Narrator's blatantly rubbish attempts at de-escalating an ongoing complication he was having. Well, Stanley was having none of it. With solidified resolve, he was prepared to take a step towards the right door when a thought crossed his mind that gave him pause. There was one thing holding him back; his agreement to respect The Narrator's boundaries. Unless he was personally allowed entry into his office, he was powerless to help. So, Stanley was cursed to stand here with his hands at his sides, steadily curling into fists. Wallowing in regret over his past decision while he waited for the Narrator to return.

It pissed him off to no end. Being stuck here like he always was. Was he really so useless as to not provide any increment of assistance to The Narrator? Well, useful or not, Stanley was going to come up with a plan to get Narrator back down here. One way or another. He had to.

He had to.

#under the cut provides some backstory mixed into the comic and it's narrative.#it's only in Stanley's perspective!#if you want me to do Narry's perspective just let me know #my art #the stanley parable #digital art #tsp #tsp narrator #tspud #tsp stanley #tsp fanart #tspud art #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #pomwh au

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yanderes-galore · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request a short scenario about Gojo falling in love with Sukuna’s favorite lover? They got unsealed first & was discovered by Gojo. Darling tried to escape one problem only to acquire an even worse one

Darling is gender neutral and it’s Romantic Yandere Gojo

~Anon~

The plot was a bit complicated yet vague so I hope the idea I came up with works ^^; I don't know much about the Heian Era so I am guessing. AU where Jujutsu High is actually Jujutsu University for the sake of ages and plot.

This deviates from the request a bit but I hope you enjoy it anyways :) The end is a bit butchered as I had no ideas :( The yandere behavior is vaguely implied, I wish this was executed better but I was working with what I had. Constructive feedback is appreciated.

Possible Manga Spoilers, Please read with caution.

One Long Century

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Story (Ft. Sukuna)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Possessive behavior, Slight rivalry themes, Jealousy, Stalking, Darling hates relationships, Themes of toxicity in relationships, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

The Heian Era was known as a legendary time for Jujutsu Sorcerers. After all, this era was where Sukuna and Kenjaku originated from. Speaking of which, there was another Sorcerer that history recorded who dealt with these two.

You were Sukuna's favorite lover, out of all the partners the King of Curses had, you were his best. You were experienced in utilizing Curse energy, which made you a favorite. However, you never wanted to be tied to the monster.

Sukuna took you as a partner due to your abilities as a Sorcerer. While you were originally his enemy, he broke you in due to his strength. You were never stronger than him but he liked your potential. Truthfully, your plan was to die trying to take him out.

You never got such an easy fate.

No, instead Sukuna contacted Kenjaku to speak of immortality. You understood Sukuna wished to live forever, but you fully expected to die here. Unfortunately... Sukuna didn't want to waste such a good partner.

"Make them a cursed object, too. I want them to follow me eternally."

You were never like Sukuna. No, your morals were more pure than his. You had the morals of more modern Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Protect the weak... For you are strong.

Against your will you were made into a sealed cursed object. You reluctantly lay in wait for a time where you can awaken. With the body of a host... you can be reborn.

Even if you didn't wish it.

---

For a century your cursed object was passed around and stored. Legends and rumors told of your relationship with the King of Curses. It was often said that you could calm the King of Curses if things ever got out of hand.

Eventually, like some of Sukuna's fingers, you found your way into the protection of Jujutsu University in their Cursed Warehouse.

You weren't chosen to be reborn until enough of Sukuna's fingers were collected. Higher-ups realized that if something goes wrong they should have you ready. Which lead to a host being chosen...

And you being reborn.

It felt... strange to be reborn in the modern age. Everything was so different, from the amount of Sorcerers to even the clothes and buildings. You were brought back for a reason it seemed.

You feel like you're being judged.

You can't blame these modern Sorcerers for suspecting you. Sukuna was known for sadism and being known as his favorite lover didn't help. However, you did your best to prove your true allegiance.

Any side fighting Sukuna works for you.

You didn't meet Satoru Gojo until you were allowed to be "used". Their wording disturbed you, yet you try not to judge in turn. They have their reasons to be worried.

Unfortunately... meeting Satoru Gojo comes with reuniting with... Sukuna.

You were told that Sukuna had taken host in a student named Yuji Itadori. Satoru Gojo was given the job of being his teacher and being a handler. Your job?

Stick by them both... and keep Sukuna under control.

You loathed the idea... but you hated the idea of Sukuna going unchecked more. As a result, you comply with the order. This makes you part of Gojo's group.

It also gets you involved with Gojo and Sukuna... the blights of your life.

---

As expected, being in the group started uncomfortable for you. Gojo was curious of an ancient Sorcerer such as you. One who wasn't malevolent... but kept alive for some reason.

Admittedly you weren't as strong as Gojo... but you were up there.

You then met the younger students who accompanied him. Yuji (Sukuna's vessel, according to your intel), Nobara, and Megumi. They were all quite interesting and powerful in their own right... and over time you found yourself attached to them.

Then there was Sukuna, the King of Curses and your supposed lover. He festered within Yuji, much to your disgust. You dreaded whenever he took control.

You could never have a normal conversation with Yuji without Sukuna popping in to taunt you. He was unfortunately still flirtatious, seeing you as his lover. He didn't care if you hated him... just like all those years ago.

You wished you could just stay enemies with him.

You wished you weren't brought back.

Arguments often occurred between you and Sukuna. It was usually verbal as Gojo was around to prevent physical fights. For the sake of everyone around you.

Speaking of Gojo, you often spoke with him. You both often acted as mentors and guardians to your group. Originally, the air between you was tense.

Then Gojo realized he could get along with a strong Sorcerer such as you from ancient times.

You don't mind Gojo at first. He helps you adapt to modern times now that you're able to be out and about around other people. You two even bond well in battle against Curses.

Sukuna often mocks the fact Gojo is so close to you. The King of Curses is still possessive of his remaining lover. You often hear Sukuna vowing to take you back once he takes full control of his vessel, Yuji.

You plan on preventing that with Gojo.

You help Gojo train his students. For the most part you stay out of the way of other activities unless it's Sukuna related. Occasionally you even help with Kenjaku issues once those become known.

Soon months begin to pass and Gojo grows more... intrigued. He knew attachments could be dangerous, especially with an individual as mysterious as you. However...

It didn't stop Gojo from falling for someone he shouldn't have.

Gojo's obsession with you doesn't go unnoticed by Sukuna. In fact, he often acts out more around Gojo. Which leads to more work for you.

You begin to notice things when Gojo leaves your side less. He often excuses his actions as the higher-ups just wanting to keep you monitored. You believe it since Gojo is technically monitoring two dangerous Sorcerers.

In reality, Gojo can't keep his eyes off you.

He originally didn't want to think of the idea of being in love with you. Yet despite the difference in your eras and origins, Gojo still managed to be playful and interested in you. You even played along.

If anyone was worthy of Satoru Gojo...

It was you.

---

Gojo is really your only guide to getting around this new age. You have power, but without him you could've been misguided. At least, Gojo seems to think so.

As you work with Jujutsu University, Gojo only seems to grow closer to you. He often asks how you manage to get Sukuna under control and what you've learned throughout the ages. If anything, you're the most valuable asset he and the rest of the Sorcerers has other than Yuji/Sukuna himself.

Gojo's strange behavior doesn't get better as you work with him. It perplexes you. After all, you aren't that much of a threat. So why is he so close at all times?

If only you knew the true extent to his feelings.

You haven't thought much of romantic relationships due to your circumstances. After all, Sukuna is still around and he's turned you off to such relationships. Which is why it disturbs you when you notice Gojo's... obsession.

It's fitting that the strongest craves the strong, no matter how forbidden it is.

However, when you see the signs, you're reminded of how you were treated all those years ago. The possessive glares, then hostility towards those who don't accept you... it's familiar.

Gojo's much nicer and more playful than Sukuna...

But it appears they're both their own type of monster.

Whenever Gojo pulls you into an embrace, you shove him away. Whenever he playfully teases you, you go cold. You don't wish to be trapped again....

Yet Gojo never stops to consider his actions....

His hold on you is always tight. His confession for you was rather sudden once he did say it. When you tried to refuse, his behavior didn't change.

In fact he only seemed more violent towards those you fought against... Including Sukuna.

"We're good partners, aren't we?" He asked you, a smile on his face. "So wouldn't we be good... romantically?"

You hate that you still persist even now.

Even now, when you just want to rest, Gojo's there. You begin to dislike company of any type by this point. Yet you're forced to endure as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

Originally you could deal with him being overly affectionate. The hugs were even originally comforting. You kept telling him you didn't like him romantically, but he seemed to ignore such a thought. You were tired of him constantly being by your side no matter where you go.

Although, snapping would only bring you trouble.

If you snapped, the higher-ups would order you exorcised and their control over Sukuna would falter. That or Gojo himself would seal you so you're harmless. As much as you hated it...

A century ago you told yourself serving Sukuna was your duty. Now, in modern times, you tell yourself that serving alongside Gojo is your duty. It didn't matter what happened as long as the weak were protected....

It was once again your duty to please.

Gojo was so focused on you two being strong together, he never thought about what you think. In his eyes, the strong belong together. No matter what.

Instead of piercing red eyes, you're met with glowing blue ones. Instead of the King of Curses, it's the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer. There may be differences...

But in the end you're still left with a monster...

A monster that has so much more power over you... A monster that claims to love you... Just to take everything you have all over again.

A long century has passed... and nothing has changed.

"We'll be unstoppable, won't we, baby?"

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo

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stormbreaker101 · 2 months ago

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W101's Advanced Combat 103: Clears, Gambits, and School Synergy

Over the past few years, Wizard101 has been trying to add more variety to gameplay by introducing Advanced Combat, which focuses less on raw damage and more on hanging effects, the additional ‘things’ that can be present in battle.

In my last post on this series I introduced the theory of School Identity and the Roshambo wheel, using metaphor and the conceptual identities and themes of the schools to explain the relationships between them. This post will demonstrate how the Roshambo is used in combat, using many spell examples.

Clears

Clears allow you to remove hanging effects that benefit your opponent to get something that benefits yourself. Let's look at two examples of Ice school Clears.

This example Clear is from the Arc 2 prequest's tutorial. It can clear a Charm because Charms are representative of Storm, and Ice freezes Storm.

And this B Path Evil Snowman is able to clear Curses because Curses are representative of Death, and Ice survives Death.

Sometimes, you'll have spells that have their Clear condition after doing their damage, rather than before, such as in this example below. As a reminder, Storm can clear DoTs because DoTs are representative of Fire, and Storm douses Fire.

Gambits

Gambits are the opposite of Clears. They let you sacrifice something that benefits yourself for another thing that benefits yourself. This can be a stronger hanging effect, higher damage, or pips.

Wait, that last example seems odd. It's a Death spell, but instead of gambiting or casting a Curse (which is its representative hanging effect), it's gambiting Charms (which represents Storm) and recieving Wards (which represents Ice). What's going on here?

School Synergy

Schools are not only able to counter one another, but synergize with one another, using the hanging effects of other schools in their own spells. Specifically, schools can synergize with the other schools adjacent to them.

Death is in between Ice and Storm, and so it can synergize with those two schools. Death spells can gambit or produce curses, wards, or charms. Weaknesses, Shields, or Blades.

While the official concept of School Synergy and using it with the roshambo system is relatively new, there are some examples of older spells that display Synergy as well.

These are a pair of old Fire school spells, and they fully display all the synergies Fire has within Advanced Combat. Damage over Times (Fire itself) and Heal over Times (Life) in Link, and Jinxes (Myth) in Fuel.

In my eyes, Synergy isn't just a brand new system meant to make the schools more interconnected and able to interact with each other, but expanding upon older mechanics and lore to make it more thorough.

What About Balance?

As mentioned near the end of the last post, Balance sits within the School wheel, not countering and not countered by anything. Additionally, because Balance is in the center, it's adjacent to all the schools, and able to synergize with everything.

Thus, instead of Clearing or Gambiting anything, some B-Path Balance spells have a unique mechanic called Echo. If your opponent has a certain hanging effect active, your spell will give you the same kind of hanging effect without removing theirs.

Other Key Terms

There are some spells that don't include Gambits, Clears, or Echoes, but still lean into the roshambo and the concepts of Synergy, or just provide additional utility. As an example, often times DoTs HoTs and Bombs won't be officially gambited, but some spells will trigger a secondary effect of some kind if a DoT or Bomb is on your target, or if an HoT is on you. Most can be understood just by reading the symbols, but some use additional terms that I haven't yet covered and so I'll cover them here.

Detonate: Deal all of the damage in a single DoT or bomb

Activate: Deal all of the healing in a single HoT. A HoT detonate, essentially.

Swap: Trade one of your hanging effects with one of your opponent's hanging effects of the same time. (E.G., swap 1 of your charms with your target's charms) (Exercise for the reader: find the spell that has this effect.)

Push: Put one of your hanging effects onto your target.

#leah speaks :3 #wizard101 #w101 #wizblr #advice corner #and that about wraps up everything I wanted to cover in this tutorial series #if anyone has any questions or if there's another aspect of advanced combat youd like me to write about feel free to ask me

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miguelswifey04 · 1 year ago

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wait a riff off of the universal POC household experience:

miguel is helping gabi with her math hw (who’s STRUGGLING, she did not get the STEM genes) and he’s desperately trying not release his inner dad because he’s trying to break the cycle of children crying due to their dads getting mad at them for not being able to do math.

YES THIS!! but my moms too because my mom literally made me break down 😭

miguel o’hara and gabriella o’hara

breaking the cycle of being emotionally abusive to your children while helping them with their homework.

it was heartwarming yet slightly challenging situation as he assisted gabriella with her math homework. he understood her struggles and empathized with the frustration she felt, but he was determined to break the cycle of parental pressure and children's tears. with a patient and gentle demeanor, miguel leaned over gabriella’s desk, his eyes scanning the equations and numbers she was wrestling with. “alright, let's take this step by step. don’t worry, mija, math can certainly be a bit tricky at times, but with some practice and a positive mindset, you'll get the hang of it."

gabriella sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. she felt a sense of relief knowing that miguel wasn't going to lose his temper over her difficulties. “thanks, papa. it just feels like my brain isn't wired for this stuff. i feel so dumb."

miguel shook his head, his face filled with sincerity and encouragement. “hey now love, none of that negative talk. you’re not dumb, gabriella. everyone has their strengths, and we all learn differently. it just takes a little extra effort sometimes, but i know you can do it." miguel guided his daughter through the problems, breaking them down into more manageable parts. he utilized different teaching techniques, ensuring he tailored his approach to her specific way of understanding.

in moments where gabriella’s frustration threatened to overtake her, miguel provided encouraging words, reminding her of her potential. “remember, we're not aiming for perfection here. progress and understanding are what matter. take a deep breath, you've got this."time ticked away as they persevered through the math problems. there were a few struggles, a couple of incorrect answers, but miguel smiled reassuringly after each challenge, showing gabriella that mistakes were merely part of the learning process.

as they finally wrapped up the last problem, gabriella looked up at miguel, a mix of relief and gratitude in her eyes. "thank you, papa. i couldn't have done it without your patience and support. you really helped me understand this."miguel beamed, proud of gabriella for persevering and pushing through the difficulties. “you did the hard work yourself, gabriella. i was just here to guide you. remember, math is just one aspect of your incredible journey. your worth is not defined by numbers. you are intelligent, creative, and capable in so many ways."

gabriella's face brightened with a newfound confidence as she internalized her dad’s words. she felt a sense of empowerment, knowing that her worth extended far beyond her struggles with math. in that moment, miguel knew he had succeeded in breaking the cycle of pressure and anger that had haunted his own childhood. he filled the room with a warmth that radiated a genuine love and understanding, reminding his own daughter that her worth was immeasurable.

a/n: dad miguel 🔛🔝(of me)

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @meeom @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit @emiemiemiii @astro1bloom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider person #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #miguel o’hara drabble #gabriella o’hara

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mustachrryluvr · 2 years ago

Text

Spongebob

Joe Burrow One Shot

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

“You know what always makes me feel better when I’m feeling overwhelmed?”

“What’s that, bub?” you ask curiously, having no idea where he could be going with that.

“Watching spongebob.”

—

You had been having a rough couple of weeks. Since you were still a student, you weren’t always able to follow Joe all over the country for his games. It is what it is, but sometimes it really got to you that you weren’t able to watch him succeed, or be there for him after a loss as often as you would like. Of course you could watch the games on tv, but it wasn’t the same as physically being there for him.

You were in your very last semester of college, and Joe had always supported you and made sure you knew he understood why you wouldn’t be able to come to all of his games. He would love if you were always there to watch him in person, and he knew that would happen in due time. Once you graduated, you would have time to live the NFL girlfriend life and you couldn’t wait.

You and Joe had only met last summer, so this was your first football season together. You met one random night in May when you were visiting your friend who was living in Cincinnati for the summer. You and your friend were making the most of your visit and were having the best girls’ night out at the bars when in walks no one other than the Bengals’ quarterback. Needless to say, everyone in the bar wanted to hang out with him. He was hanging out with some of his buddies from high school for the evening and knew going out in Cincy would be chaotic, but figured it would be worth the shot. As the evening progressed and bar goers had more drinks in them, everyone started to leave Joe alone. You both happened to stumble up to the bar in search of a new drink at the same time and the rest is history.

Exchanging numbers with Joe that night was the best thing that had ever happened to you. You only lived an hour and a half from Cincinnati, so that made it easy to go up on weekends to see him, with the occasional longer visit when you could get off work. It was harder for him to be able to leave town to come to you with his practice schedule, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Your relationship progressed very quickly. With not being able to see each other constantly and being semi-long distance, you were really able to cherish the time you were together. It didn’t take much time for either of you to realize how real the love between you two was.

You feared the strain the strain on your relationship that would be caused by you being in school while he had a full football season to complete, but you guys made it work. Texts, phone calls, and facetimes made it work. You went to as many home games as you could, but you couldn’t make it to all of them.

But that’s okay, because now it’s the off season and Joe has more free time to spend with you.

Except it’s not okay.

It’s not okay because it’s only the off season because the Bengals lost to the Chiefs in the AFC Championship.

A game you didn’t even get to go to because you had an exam you had to take early Monday morning and wouldn’t have enough time to fly back to Cincinnati and then drive to your campus.

It’s been a few days since the game and you are still feeling immense guilt. Watching the game from your apartment living room was perfectly fine util the game ended and there were tears streaming down your face because all you wanted to do was hug Joe and tell him that everything would be okay. You could tell during the post-game interviews that all he wanted was to get the questions over with from him short answers, and your heart broke being able to see the sadness in his face. He was a tough boy and hid his emotions well, but you could read him like no other. Even though you had a perfectly good reason to not be at the game, you just felt so selfish and guilty for not being there for him when he needed you most.

Now it was the Wednesday after and things still felt so overwhelming. Joe had traveled down to stay with you for a few days this afternoon, and you couldn’t be happier to finally get to see him. But between being so busy with school and still feeling weird about missing the game on Sunday, seeing him made it all come boiling over.

He had barely stepped a foot into your apartment when your smile faded and the tears began streaming down your face.

Worried, he immediately dropped his things, closed and locked your apartment door, and wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, one around you body with one hand holding your head to his chest.

“Hey, hey. What’s up with the tears, bug? What’s going on, hmm?” he paused to kiss the top of your head and rest his lips there for a beat to see if you were calming down. Once it was clear you were full on sobbing into his chest, he gently turned his head down to try and get a glimpse of you before he spoke in a hushed tone, “Pretty girl, it’s okay to cry…but whatever it is that has you this upset, I would like to know. I don’t know how to help unless you talk to me.”

You lifted your head a tad to speak, but couldn’t stop the tears or catch your breath to get anything out.

“Hey, shhhhh. It’s okay, breathe with me, okay? Big breath in, and let it out.”

Joe walked you through some big breaths for a minute until you finally started to calm down. You burrowed yourself deeper into him and his hands smoothed over your back as his touch felt very grounding.

“There’s my girl. What’s going on in this pretty head of yours?” He asked, once again placing a kiss on the top of your head and proceeding to rest his cheek there as he swayed your bodies and waited for your response.

You sniffled a little then said, “I just missed you.”

“Hmmm, I missed you too, but that can’t be all of it, bug. We are apart from each other all the time, and I’ve never seen you react like this.”

You sighed, annoyed but endeared that he knows you that well.

“I just…I just am so sad I wasn’t there for you Sunday,” you mumbled out, feeling fresh tears on your waterline. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there.

He squeezed you tighter and waited for you to continue.

“I just feel guilty for not being there when you needed me most. It’s just been an overwhelming feeling…you work so hard and deserve the world and I felt so useless. I couldn’t do anything to help you.” As you finish your confession, you could feel new tears streaming down your face. You weren’t full on sobbing, but getting this overwhelming feeling off your chest allowed you to breathe a little easier.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way? We’ve talked plenty since the game?” Joe askd, not trying to berate you for not telling him, just genuinely concerned as to why you had been bottling all these big feelings up.

“I just didn’t want to feel like a burden to you, Joey. You had enough you were and are going through. I was just worried about you.”

“Yeah, but I worry about you when you don’t talk to me, bug. I don’t want you bottling things up so much that you’re feeling so overwhelmed. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty for not being there. All your texts, calls, and FaceTimes have been my saving grace,” he pauses, pulled back from your grasp and reached up to grab your cheeks so you are forced to look into his eyes.

With a serious look on his face he says, “You are not a burden and you are not useless. Okay?” he pauses and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, awaiting a response. You slightly nod and he continues. “I love you. Even if you weren’t physically at the game, I knew you were still there. Because you are always right here,” he says as he places your hand over his heart.

You look down at where he has placed your hand, take a deep breath, then look back up at him as he continues, “I wish you were physically there to hug after, but you were back here being the little smarty pants you are, studying away,” he said with a small smile as you slightly giggled at his wording. “And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Next year, when you don’t have responsibilities to school, you’ll probably be sick of dealing with me after games. I can be quite the pain in the ass.”

You smile at his words and respond, “Yeah, but you’ll be my pain in the ass.”

“Absolutely,” he responds, happy to be seeing the light come back into your eyes.

He pulls you back into a hug, closing his eyes and smiling as he rests his head on yours.

“You know what always makes me feel better when I’m feeling overwhelmed?”

“What’s that, bub?” you ask curiously, having no idea where he could be going with that.

“Watching spongebob.”

“Of course,” you say with a giggle. “You are such a kid.”

“Maybe, but you love it, bug,” he responds before he reaches down and gives you a big, slobbery kiss on the cheek.

“Ewww!” you laugh as you push him off of you. “Go pull up an episode and I’ll go get some snacks… and maybe disinfect my cheek, Christ.”

a/n: ahhhhhh my first joe burrow one shot??? born and raised a bengals fan so joey becoming our quarterback has made me go insane... obviously ... let me know what you all think!

i also did NOT proof read this and i wrote it in like 20 mins so… hope it’s fine??

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fan fiction #nfl fan fic #nfl fanfiction #nfl imagine #joe burrow fic #begals #bengals fanfic #joey burrow

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bluebayousblog · 2 years ago

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RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 5)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Isobel’s apartment after Drew’s party

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

After two decades on this planet never did Isobel think a family friend would be the one to make her feel so understood and seen. She’d been coasting through life with blind emotion, never truly processing her feelings because to Isobel they were inferior compared to others who could lay it all out on the line.

Then there was Drew, someone who for so long she viewed as an dense asshole who so naturally read into her heavy silence and didn’t run at what he found. He made her feelings valid, made sure she understood that her feelings were normal not a burden. Isobel never wanted to be an inconvenience and when that was always on the forefront of her mind her lightest grievances felt like meaningless complaints.

Not only was Isobel quiet because it was her default but because it was what made her comfortable, and because of that she made herself feel invisible. Drew without effort was making her feel so seen it only made her want to hide from the light, to push him away because full transparency would unveil everything she tried to hide.

Though his intuitiveness was unnerving, she couldn’t ignore how nice it felt, and completely allowing herself to revel in the feeling of trusting a person on a somewhat emotional level—to shine in the light—was something she hadn’t done since her last relationship.

Drew’s unwavering gaze has her pinned to the back of the couch, she couldn’t decipher if that look was waiting for her to rebuttal, or silently daring her to argue with his revelations he’d come to. They both knew he was right, the arrogant smirk he couldn’t help but let twitch onto his lips was proof enough of his confidence. “What would be an appropriate reason to end this then, Drew?”

Isobel asking him this question would normally unsettle him but the innocent look in her eyes, the taunt in her tone, the way her arms lifted to wrap around his neck told him she was about to start fucking with him.

In the past, Drew never had to consider what would constitute and warrant breaking things off with a girl because he’d never been in a situation that involved the need. Now, for him Isobel wasn’t just a girl, she meant something to him, especially when everything she gave him was more than just a touch or a kiss.

He’d like to think he would be man enough to tell her if there was someone else, but right now he didn’t think wanting another woman was a possibility for him. She had him on a leash, sure it was leash that Isobel wasn’t utilizing to her full capability, but nevertheless it was there, waiting for her to take hold. He didn’t know if that would mean anything to the girl, hell she once had a man in her life that claimed he loved her all the while entertaining other women.

“When I stop letting you know your worth, Izzy, when you don’t feel that from me there will be no objections on my end.” Drew promises, his forehead falling against her as her nails gently scratching across the back of his neck, “I would never want to drag you along.”

Drew always was bracing himself when it came to Isobel, never knowing what was going to come out of her mouth or where those hands or lips would find themselves. She was a force no matter how reserved she was, what she gave him was always like a hit of the most potent drug—she could never disappoint.

“Doesn’t it suck that you can’t completely ensure that doesn’t happen?” she replied with a hum, her words were cynical but she didn’t pull away, if anything she leaned further into him.

“Isobel-“

“No, Drew,” she interrupted him before he could continue to build some unrealistic expectations and promises, Isobel had forcibly learned not to rely on hope after being severely cheated on. She learned not to expect a man to want only her because disappointment would only fill her in the end. “I don’t need grand declarations from you about the future, let’s just see how this plays out, yeah?”

She could tell he didn’t like what she’d just implied, that she’d basically said she didn’t trust him, and she only expected the worst out of them together. Her words were harsh, but she had no reason to completely trust Drew, and doing it for her own sake? That would only result in disaster.

“I can do that, but we’re still talking eventually.” He squeezed her left hip in his large hands, probably to show her he was serious, and Isobel was all for it as long as it wasn’t just about her.

She was the one who obviously had all the insecurities, but this thing between the two wasn’t just about her. Still, it felt like her inner turmoil would overbear the conversation, or prove to be rudimentary to what actually mattered. But she would try because he insisted, something she wasn’t used to.

“You sure are making a lot of demands tonight.” Isobel murmured, licking her lips, his blue eyes watching the movement. Never did she think she could thoroughly enjoy a man telling her what to do, but when Drew did it drove her wild. Part of her wanted her to obey while the other half wanted to make him just as insane.

It made Drew feel good to be able to look out for her—he wanted her to feel secure more than anything—that need came from depth him like it was his destiny. And when she submitted to that, to him taking care of her, it filled him with inexplicable emotions that drew him closer to her.

And when she praised him for having her best interest, teasing him about getting firm with her just as she was now, it made the man want to drop to his knees. He recognized that playful look on her face, the suggestive glint in her eyes was his weakness, her eyes in general would be his end. Years and years of lackluster family dinners and he’d never noticed how enticing one look from Isobel could be, it was was all consuming.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his blindness to all that was Isobel was because his body knew once he really did see her his world would shift.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line, Izzy Bear.” Drew half joked.

Isobel’s eyes drunk in the slight upward tug on his lips, the darkness surrounding them not taking away from the edge, and when she drug them upwards to meet his, that was when Drew knew he needed to pull away. “Where are you going?” She frowned as he took a step back putting some distance between the two, their fingers brushing each other before they dropped to their sides. Drew immediately slid his into his pockets, needing a barrier to keep him from pulling her back in to wipe that look off her face.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Is.” He breathed as he leaned on the wall behind him, getting even further away from the girl.

“What do you mean?” Isobel questioned.

The girl was fully aware of what this was between them, and though she wasn’t usually the causal type, Isobel couldn’t help but want to be attached to him at any possible moment. But that strained look on his face had her sighing in retreat. “You had some drinks tonight, Is, and we both know one drop of alcohol gets you going.”

Drew couldn’t help but chuckle as the girl rolled her eyes at his little dig, he’d partied with her plenty of enough to know a cup of beer could put her past tipsy, and he’d been so busy drooling over her the whole night he hadn’t touched any drinks. She’d caught him off guard earlier in his bedroom, but he was serious about not disrespecting her and letting things get out of control on an unleveled playing field would be the exact opposite of that.

“You’re such a prince, Drew.” Isobel sighed sarcastically, throwing him an annoyed squint before turning and walking away towards her room, “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

Drew just stood there in the silent darkness not knowing what to do with himself when she disappeared down the hall. When the boy heard the shower begin to run he sighed and sat on the couch, deciding he would wait for her to come back out before he left. Drew had never spent the night in the same building as Isobel unless it was family related, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries that she wasn’t ready to take on.

They had less than a day left before they would be embarking on their drive back home for the holidays, and he still had some things that needed to be packed. He smiled to himself knowing Isobel was probably fully prepared to get in his car and hit the road at this very moment.

He fell into such deep thought he hadn’t noticed Isobel’s return, and when he looked up and saw her walking towards him he wished he walked out of that door when he still possessed any ounce of resolve. She was bare faced, skin dewy from whatever moisture she’d lathered on, and her body was covered in an oversized cotton tee that he prayed was hiding shorts beneath. She looked refreshed and comfortable and did nothing short of take his breath away.

“You could’ve come back and waited in my room.” Isobel smiled, shoving his shoulder and giggling when he actually fell into the back cushions of the sofa. She was doing her best not to fidget under his gaze, his eyes roaming over every inch of her.

Drew stiffly sat back up, running a hand through his short hair, telling Isobel something was obviously frustrating him, “I gotta go home and do some packing for tomorrow, Izzy.”

“Drew, no.” She dragged out, whining in protest and completely melting any tension present in his body. Isobel verbalizing her want for him was like a calming melody he couldn’t help but take in, “I want you stay with me tonight, I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.”

She held out her left pinky finger, the only appropriate way to fully back up her words. He stared at her hand for a few seconds, contemplating her offer before finally curling his around her smaller one. Isobel couldn’t help but smile, immediately grabbing his hands and attempting to tug him off the couch.

“Come on we can put on a movie.” Isobel suggested as he followed down the hallway where her bedroom was.

She finally dropped his hand when they got to her bed, rounding the mattress to get to the other side and crawling under the covers. Drew’s mouth dried out at the sight, she looked adorable and he just wanted to grab her and hold her all night, “You’re cute as hell, Izzy.”

Isobel brought the comforter up past her nose, hiding the bottom half of her face as she watched him turn away, unbuttoning and pulling off his pants leaving him in black boxers and a shirt. The muscles in his back contracted and stretched as he leaned downed to pick them up before walking over to her desk and placing them on her chair.

He silently commanded her attention, getting on her bed from the foot of it and reaching to the light above them and turning it off unknowingly causing the hem of his shirt to reveal the skin leading into his boxers, “Drew, can you take the shirt off please?”

He cocked his head to the side, shaking it in disbelief at the girl hiding behind the covers, and if he didn’t how much of a clean freak she was he’d think Isobel was just trying to get him naked.

“Anything for the princess.” This had been a thing between their families for as long as he could remember, Isobel asking for something and everyone making sure the princess was satisfied.

Sure, she didn’t get everything she wanted, her parents didn’t want to raise a monster. But when it came to Drew, he’d always found it hard to say no to her, he simply was adverse to seeing that look of disappointment on her face even as a young boy.

Isobel released a breathe when he finally got under the comforter after discarding the shirt, she had the most beautiful chest staring back at her and couldn’t touch. She was hoping sleep found her quickly tonight or promises would be severely broken.

“Have you never spent the night in a girl’s bed?” Isobel asked.

Drew looked down at her trying to decide if she was being serious, but seeing her swallowed up by all her blankets and pillows was about the most unserious thing he’d ever seen, “Why do you ask that?”

“Cause you are about as stiff as a board right now.” She smiles, Isobel had never seen the guy so tense, and he was the most laidback person she’s ever met. Who knew getting him in her bed would be so awkward? Especially since the two had done far worse than share a bed for a night.

Drew knew he was being rigid, hell his body was so close to the opposite end of the mattress he could tumble to the ground at the gust of a wind—regardless of her obvious joking one would actually think he’d never been with a girl in his life. Clearly that was far from the truth, and it was just this girl in particular that had his every sense being triggered just by lying there beside him. He was way too aware of Isobel, the breathes she released causing her chest to rise in fall in an even pattern, the smell of that vanilla scent that was always gently gracing his nostrils and clouding his mind, and the fact that the body of the girl he could not get out of his head was just an arm’s reach away in all her glory. The mere thought of her soft skin being under the same comforter had every hair on him standing alert because as much as he wanted to pull her against his body he knew he probably shouldn’t touch her. Not when he couldn’t seem to control himself when it came to her, and not when Isobel always seemed to be on a mission to tease him out of his mind. She didn’t make him uncomfortable in any way, it was just the thought of ever making her feel that way that had him hesitant to relax.

“I always get nervous when I’m near a pretty girl.” He stated, partially explaining why he was being so taut before getting more comfortable in the bed, and when he saw the smile that spread on her soft lips he swore his body melted into it.

Isobel was used to Drew complimenting her looks, he even did it when they were younger, but that intense look of longing in his eyes was new. It lit her aflame, made her feel like no man had ever viewed her the way he did, like he had never looked at another girl in that way and it only solely belong to her.

“There’s no need to be nervous, I told you I would keep my hands to myself, Drew.” playfulness was clear in Isobel’s eyes but she remained on her side of the bed.

So much had changed since that day on the couch, including how much the two wanted each other. And with that it seemed as if Isobel who was hesitant with their relationship lacked the least amount of control physically. Sure, she could keep her emotions on lock as long as she kept them barreled in her mind, but her want for Drew? That was coursing through her veins and influencing every movement she made around him.

He made the girl so shy when they were around others that her cheeks felt like they were going to burn off just hours before at his party, but when it was just them alone she knew he wouldn’t judge her for wanting him.

“And I believe you, Izzy.” He chuckled making the girl roll her eyes as he folded his lean arms behind his head. He was so far, but still suffocated the space with his presence and the fact that he had her undeniable attention annoyed her.

“You know I’m as clear headed as ever after that shower, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I want you to be the only other guy to fuck me.” Isobel sighed, fingers tapping the fabric of the comforter between their adjacent bodies. That simple action was teasing for Drew, with weight of her words lingering between them, the sound of her her nails scratching along the material made it feel as if his blood was vibrating in his veins like it was getting ready to travel down his body, “You’re going to regret being all gentlemen like real soon, Drew.”

There wasn’t a trace of a threatening tone in her voice, and as much as he wished to hear it there wasn’t any trace of alcohol impairing her speech—it was just the same old Isobel’s.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her nonchalant voice, speaking as if she wasn’t lying down beside him and telling him she was ready to have him inside of her. He wasn’t going to go back on his word, but still her entertaining the thought of them fucking had goosebumps scattering his skin. He wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep with such things racing through his mind because when he shut his eyes he knew exactly what would brighten and form in that darkness behind his eyelids.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow when there isn’t a trace of alcohol in my system, okay?” She mocked, but it didn’t piss him off, it only caused that heat growing inside him to rise a tenfold.

And all he could do was lie back as she patted his bare chest with her dainty hand before she turned her back to him and eventually drifted to sleep. When he heard her tiny snores fill the room he forced himself into an a sleep laced with all that was Isobel.

•

Isobel had never felt so warm waking up, sure she’d woken up on occasion drenched in sweat from the heater or a bad dream, but this warmth was different. It was so many things at once, a woody, sage smell mixed with her favorite vanilla scent filled her nostrils, and then there was just the feeling of being held that caused that warmth to spread throughout her entire being pulling her to hold on tighter to what was surrounding her. It was just familiar. Making her want stay in that state of rest forever as her eyes remained sealed shut.

The girl was so aware while also being weighed down by the high of such a relaxing sleep. Her awareness kept her from drifting off again as that warmth continued to swirl throughout her partially conscious body. A content hum vibrated in her throat at the heavy feeling settling beneath her, and she locked her legs tightly around the warmth. And a much throatier sound threatened to escape her at the feeling of pressure pushing against her right between her legs.

“That feels nice.” She found herself whispering against the soft feeling of skin on her lips, the thought and sound of her small voice making her eyes snap open.

Her face was buried in Drew’s neck his scent gracing her nostrils as it was only thing in her airway. She made little movement to look up and see he was still asleep, quiet snores leaving him with his hand locked firmly around her waist. The two were plastered against each other despite being on opposite ends of the bed before falling asleep. Isobel sighed at the feeling of her breasts being pushed against his hard chest, that sound alone seemed to make imaginary floodgates burst open in more ways than one.

As soon as the sound escaped her, Drew mirrored it with a grating moan followed by his hips flexing up in between her legs he was nestled between. His hips had snapped into her so roughly she slid up the bed and the headboard softly knocked into the wall. That warmth returned shooting through her and pushing an unmistakable moan out of her mouth that cracked open against his neck at the feeling of his hardened dick dragging against her heat before he relaxed back on the bed still fast asleep.

Drew was obviously enjoying himself, the slight smile on his soft, pink lips completely telling of that. Isobel was far from uncomfortable under his movement and she planned to cuddle further into the man, that was until he began to slowly roll his hips back and forth against her pussy as if he were fucking her in the moment. The sensuous sight of his hips rolling into her so carefully and the feeling of his erection rubbing against her made it feel as if sweat misted out of her pores and coated her entire body with it.

Without a second thought she roughly broke out of his grasp, pushing him onto his back as she lowered herself down to his legs well away from his crotch. Isobel was smacking Drew’s chest when his eyes cracked open, though it was the feeling of his back falling against the mattress that interrupted his dreaming. He couldn’t recall what he was exactly dreaming of but he knew it felt good.

He looked up at Isobel hovering over him, her hair a black curtain around her pretty face as little pants drifted from her mouth. Her dark brown eyes darted all around his face as if she was looking to see if he was really there before breaking out into a fit of laughter on top of him causing his entire body to shake with her.

“What are you doing, Isobel?” He asked with confusion set deep into his features, never once had he woken up to a giggling girl sitting in his lap.

The girl laughed a little while longer before she was able to contain herself, staring at him until her eyes began to trail down his body, his following her gaze where they stopped on the tent in his boxers. For about a minute the two just sat in silence, eyes darting between his morning wood and back to each other’s eyes as Isobel sat there with an innocent smile on her face.

“Drew, you were humping me in your sleep.” Isobel told him in between more laughter and his face immediately heated in embarrassment.

“No.” He countered, dragging out the word like if he said it longer what she’d just told him wouldn’t actually be true, but the hard on in his pants wasn’t helping to plead his case.

“Yes, you definitely were,” Isobel was thoroughly enjoying tormenting him. She was genuinely having fun with him in the moment, not worried about what was going on outside of their little bubble they were in, “And don’t worry your little brain, you did not make me uncomfortable okay?”

Just as Drew could so easily read her, she was subconsciously picking up on his emotions little by little. She couldn’t decipher if it came so naturally because of how fast they’d been moving intimately or because she’d known Drew since he was in middle school. And right now worry was present in his blue eyes as they continued to scan her for any sign of discomfort.

Her smile made him relax as much as his racing thoughts would allow him to, he knew sleeping in a bed with her was a bad idea as soon as he slipped under the sheets. He knew he had enough restraint to not touch her when she’d been drinking last night, but the fact that he couldn’t seem to stay away from her when they were asleep unsettled him a little, “You promise I really didn’t make you uncomfortable, Isobel?”

“Pinky promise.” She insisted, offering her pinky up to him for the second time in the last twelve hours, and once again Drew entertained it and wrapped his finger around her’s.

As they looked into each others eyes it made the small gesture feel like they were promising so much more, it was like an unspoken bond was growing between them, and no terms needed to be discussed because their locked gazes expressed everything that wasn’t being said.

Drew didn’t immediately let Isobel’s finger go, he kept it latched onto his as he pulled her hand towards him before sealing the promise with a soft kiss to the back of her hand, still staring into her eyes. Her body fell into his at the feeling of his lips on her skin, she could feel him pressing against her stomach but ignored it as she spoke, “Were you dreaming about me, Drew?”

“Don’t ask me shit you already know the answer to.” His tone had some warning in it but his eyes were distracted.

Isobel only hummed in response, reveling inside at how worked up he was getting. “Fuck.” He muttered when the girl began to slide herself up his body, her breast grazing his torso until they were pressed against his chest. His big hands found their way onto her hips, holding her there like he thought she would disappear from his lap.

A squeak left her mouth from Drew flipping their bodies around, placing her onto her back and covering her lips with his own in a hungry kiss. He breathed harshly through his nose, air vacant in his lungs from just simply kissing Isobel, their hearts pounding against each other’s. When his tongue broke the seal of her lips he wasn’t shocked at how good she still tasted despite just being asleep because after all this was Isobel. It made him mold himself further into her body. He wanted to get as close as possible to find a single a flaw and even then he knew he would still cherish her because it would make her all the more real.

He was addicted to the way that they kissed each other. He’d never kissed a girl with so much greediness and passion, it was a perfect concoction of both and the taste made him ravenous for her. Isobel’s head pushed further into the pillow behind her, relaxing her mouth as she gave him more control over the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Reluctantly removing his lips from her, he dove back in for a few more kisses like he couldn’t get enough, deeply moaning into the last one as his nose nestled tightly into the side of hers before bringing his attention to her neck where he left the softest pecks. His wet lips puckered against her sensitive skin, traveling down to the expanse of her collar bones and chest that he stretched neckline of her shirt to reach. All Isobel could do was lie there and whimper in his ear as he took what he could access with his greedy lips. The feeling of his tongue flicking her own and his large hands rubbing up and down her thighs had her close to delirium.

“We have to stop, Iz, I need to go pack.” Drew begrudgingly mumbled into her neck not heeding his own words as his mouth remained attached to her skin. Isobel groaned in resistance as she tightened her arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, knocking the breathe out of him when she grazed his dick. But as good as she felt pressed against his throbbing member, it was the perfect reality check because if he didn’t stop now he didn’t know where things would lead, “Isobel, come on we have a long drive ahead of us.”

When Drew used her full name she knew he was being serious, and as sadistic as it may be she usually liked to mess with him to see what reaction she would get out of him. If he would snap on her because she liked to see him worked up, not knowing if he would completely ravage her or unleash some type of foreign anger. Drew had always been so gentle with her, always doing what she asked, and she was curious to see a side of him he’d always kept away from her.

But now she knew it was in their best interest if she actually listened or it would mess up more than just their impending car ride together, “Fine.” She huffed dramatically. Isobel had been in deep thought about how they were going to be able to face their family with everything going on between them, and there was only one plausible thing to do that she planned to eventually tell Drew before they got home.

She immediately pulled the comforter back over her body when he got off her and walked over to grab his pants. The evident bulge in his fitted, black boxers claimed her full attention, her mouth practically salivating when he stuck his veiny hand down his pants to readjust himself to fit his zipper over it.

And when he looked over at her, catching her blatant stare and his eyes mirrored that same look of desire she knew they both weren’t going to survive this trip back home.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART 6

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