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yasministration · 6 days ago

Note

oh and also more no boundaries spencer 🙏🏼🙏🏼 just re-read it and I need him so bad. like dial up the lack of boundaries, the possessiveness (from him) and you're cooking

not dating - spencer reid

summary: you and spencer were not dating. then why did you act like this? wc: 2.1k+ cw: SMUT, possessive/jealous spence Pt 2 to 'and they were roommates' but this could also be read as a standalone. a/n: I HOPE THIS DID IT. like i totally see what you mean, i feel as though the last fic wasn't as non-boundaries as i was trying to emulate, so i hope this one was better. we're gonna get there no boundaries anon, don't worry

You and Spencer were not dating.

That was part of the promise that sleeping together would not affect your friendship. So instead, you continued living together as per usual, staying best friends. But there were signs that Spencer thought of you as more as a friend. For example, tonight. You had ever so sweetly asked Spencer if you could host a little party for your birthday and he had said yes, anything for you.

But now, Spencer had realised that the party was slightly bigger than just ‘little‘.

You were Spencer’s best friend; there was no one he loved more than you, but at the sight of some of your friends, he frowned. You were always mature and kind, but some of the people you shared classes with were seriously immature, and gave Spencer the impression that they were all frat boys when they they did their bachelors degree.

You were lost in the apartment, dancing to the music with a drink in hand. Spencer sat on the couch, watching as people danced around you, the conversation had by the two girls on the couch completely drowned out. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, huffing slightly. He didn’t like that your attention wasn’t on him. Worse, he hated that your attention was on a tall, finance bro looking guy, so typically masculine with his hand resting on your hip as he moved his body with yours.

Spencer stood up, making his way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. Your eyes lit up as you spotted him on the dance floor and you immediately abandoned the man you were dancing with to greet him with a big hug. “Hey Spence! Come meet my friend Denis!” Denis, Spencer thought. He had a finance bro name too. Spencer kept an arm around your waist as you dragged him over to meet your friend.

The two men introduced themselves with a solid handshake, and Spencer was glad to discover that Denis was shorter than him. “Oh, you’re the FBI guy, right? The genius?” Spencer grinned, looking down at you and attempting to guise his arrogance by teasing you. “Talk about me much?” “Can’t help myself, Spence.”

“Let me guess Denis," Spencer started. "Accounting and finance.”

“Shit, you really are a genius! How’d you know?”

“Well, the FBI doesn’t just hire anyone.” Spencer replied with a wink, dragging you away from Denis and the busy crowd of dancing bodies. His smirk dropped when he turned away from Denis, rolling his eyes. It didn't take a genius to take a guess at Denis's major. Spencer kept guiding you across the apartment until he was playing with his keys to open the locked kitchen door. “The kitchen, Spence? We have two bedrooms and this is what you choose?” Your roommate kicked the door shut, digging his head into the crook of your neck and whining softly at your words.

Giggling softly, you wrapped your arms over Spencer’s shoulders, a hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck. His hands tightened around your waist and he pushed you back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Spencer’s front laid flat against yours and he deeply inhaled your perfumed scent as you held each other in the kitchen.

“You sick of everyone?” Spencer nodded against the skin of your neck and you turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his head. Spencer dug his head out from your neck, glimpsing down towards your lips with a silent question. He leaned in closer, and you smiled softly, pressing your lips against his in a short kiss. ”Why don’t you hide away in your room? No one will say anything.”

“I want to be close to you.”

“Oh Spence, you know I’m right here.” Spencer’s hands trailed underneath your shirt, cold against the warmth of your body. “Hey, look at me.” Spencer abided to your request, lifting his eyes up to meet yours. “I promise when everyone leaves I’ll come to your room and cuddle.” Spencer licked his lips, staying silent for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay.”

But Spencer didn’t move away yet. “Spence?” “I-I don’t want Denis to flirt with you.”

“I’ll stay as far away from him as I can, okay?” Spencer looked back towards the kitchen door before turning back to you and dipping his head down to kiss you again, claiming your lips as his.

You and Spencer were not dating.

Even as he retreated into his room, locking the door behind him and you returned to your friends, you stayed away from a flirtatious Denis, just because you had promised him to. You knew Denis could have wooed you into bed, and you could have had an enjoyable night together, but you promised Spencer to return to him when the party was over to give him all the cuddles he could want.

Your friends asked you about him. Is he single? They questioned, because Spencer was undeniably an attractive man. And despite the raging jealousy you felt, you smiled with raised eyebrows, teasing them about their crush on him. But no, you told them, he’s not single. Because even though you weren't dating: Spencer was yours.

“Anyway he’s my best friend. He’s off limits anyway.” And your friends had shared a look, asking what he had pulled you into the kitchen for. You didn’t realise they had seen. “He got overwhelmed by the crowd. Wanted to tell me he’d be going to his room.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

You shooed away the last of your crowd of friends through the gap in the open door, telling them you loved having them over, but Spencer didn’t want anyone home past 1 am, hence the timing on the invitation.

Locking the door behind Amelia, who insisted for you to ‘Have fun with Spencer’ while winking at you. Of course she knew. Not because he was the person closest to you after Spencer, but because you were so obvious, and she had an eye for romance.

Knocking on Spencer’s door, it didn’t even take him five seconds to open it for you. He smiled at you, contacts replaced by his thickly rimmed glasses, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “I need to take my makeup off and change into pyjamas, but I just wanted to tell you everyone’s gone.” Spencer nodded, following you out into the narrow hallway and towards your room.

His hands found home on your hips when you came to a stop in front of your bathroom mirror, reaching for your cotton pads and micellar water. Spencer pushed his front against your back, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you take your makeup off. You grabbed your cleanser next, leaning over the sink as you watched away any last remnants of your makeup. Spencer was ready for you with some thick napkins instead of your face towel, dabbing gently at your face before you went in with moisturiser. "It's better than a towel," He'd say, "Since napkins are disposable, they won't gather bacteria like a towel. That would break you out."

“Want some?” Wordlessly, Spencer nodded, letting you spin in his arms to face him. You massaged the moisturiser into his skin, being carefully not to knock over his glasses. Spencer grabbed both your wrists, lowering your hands slightly so he could press kisses to your open palms.

You and Spencer were not dating.

He was welcome to stay in your bathroom though whilst you changed into your pyjamas. You lifted your dress over your head, stripping away your bra to throw a small tank top over your head. Spencer watched the exposed surface area of your body as you returned to your bedroom, fishing out large sweatpants before returning to the bathroom, still talking to Spencer as you let your panties slip down the expanse of your legs.

Tossing your clothes into your laundry basket, you hiked the sweatpants up your legs, humming attentively as Spencer gave you a break down on his opinions about each individual person who had been in your house just an hour ago.

You nodded, making a mental list of who you could never have over again. One that started with Denis, otherwise your best friend would go crazy.

“Let’s go to bed?”

You and Spencer were not dating.

But he guided you into his room anyway, and let you lay down on your preferred side of his bed, resting your head on the extra pillow he had just for you.

Spencer made himself comfortable against your back, light fingertips running alongside the dip of your waist. He pressed kisses to your shoulder, all the way up to your neck, where he had to move your hair to reach your skin.

You and Spencer were not dating.

His hand found the waistband of your sweatpants, licking his chapped lips before asking “Can I?” You hummed, lifting your hips up to make it easier for Spencer to drag your sweatpants down your legs. They stayed pooled around your ankles, but you had enough space to spread your legs for him as much as you could from your position on your side.

Spencer ran a hand up and down your thigh before ridding himself of the confines of his sweatpants. He brought a hand to his cock, stroking himself to make himself harder.

Changing your mind on the position, you flipped around on the bed so you could face Spencer, and he gasped at the sight of your low-cut tank top, exposing the sight of your tits to him, swollen from your compromising position on your side. Pushing away Spencer’s hand, you replaced it with your own, squeezing his shaft tightly. “Okay, okay, that’s good!” Spencer gasped, long fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop your movements on his cock, which was becoming increasingly sensitive.

His free hand eased your leg up to rest on his hip, opening you up for him. He slid his hand down to touch you, his fingers travelling down your slit before returning upwards to rub little circles onto your clit. “Not surprised you’re already so wet. You get horny when you drink.”

“Spence! That’s mean.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, I could say the same for you.”

“That’s no secret. But I’m always horny for you.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

Spencer slid a finger into your entrance, causing you to gasp loudly, a hand coming up to clutch his bicep. Removing his hand from you, he slid the finger coated with your juices into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he did, and the second his finger was out of his mouth, your lips were on him, eagerly kissing him.

The man moaned quietly, a hand wrapping around his dick to bring it to your entrance, beginning to push it in mid-kiss. You whined loudly, breaking apart from the kiss to throw your head back, pushing your chest up. Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight of your chest so close to his face, so with a final thrust of his hips, filling you up completely, he moved his attention to your tits, pulling your shirt up to expose them to him.

Leaning down, Spencer captured a nipple between his lips, sucking gently on the bud. You gasped, bringing a hand up to lace in Spencer’s hair. Your hips began moving on their own accord, grinding against Spencer to feel every inch of his cock inside you. Spencer pulled his hips back slightly, moving them forward to push back into you.

The movements were lazy, your hips rolling to support his motions. Spencer moaned out your name, feeling his balls tighten with his approaching orgasm. He separated his mouth from your tits, bringing his lips to your neck, where he immediately began sucking hickeys onto your skin, dragging his teeth against your neck. You shuddered, arching your back when his fingertips connected to your clit, adding pressure onto the already sensitive area.

You could tell he was pulling out all the stops to try and make you cum with him, but it was still working.

You and Spencer were not dating.

But as you both orgasmed, crying out each other’s names like a shared secret, Spencer couldn’t stop the confession from tumbling out of his lips like a prayer. “I love you.” He cried, hips stuttering before stilling, emptying his load inside you. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

When you came down from your high, you giggled softly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s lips and mumbling “I love you too, Spence.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

But he still made sure you went to the bathroom and drank plenty of water to rehydrate yourself, before forcing you back into bed with him, where he held you as you slept in his arms. Like, really held you.

You and Spencer were not dating, but it was in that moment that Spencer decided he would ask you to become his. Officially.

taglist: @dearlizzies, @tiaajosephin

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #sub spencer #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #yasministration fics #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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writtenbymoonflower · 17 days ago

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Hi I was wondering if you would continue with the marauders and shy roommate. It would be really cute to see the reader like walk into to the marauders alone time. I thought it would be a cute idea since she’s shy and to she how they react or something like that,

Hi gorgeous! I hope this is what you meant. If not, feel free to re-submit! thank you xx

roommate!marauders x shy!reader

wc: 892

You could hear laughter through the thin door of your apartment, alerting you to your roommates’ collective presence in your sitting room. You hoped the jingle of your keys in the lock would warn them of your entry. It seemed to have worked, because you were enthusiastically greeted as you walked through the door.

“y/n!” James all but cheered, pausing the program on the television. You just waved, hanging your coat and scarf on the hook. You tried not to stare at his hand on Sirius’ thigh, or the casual way they were all intimately strewn across each other. They had never outright told you of any more-than-platonic relationships between the three boys, but you figured they knew they didn’t have to. It was nowhere near the first time you had seen moments like this. Still, you hated the fact you were likely interrupting an amorous moment between the boys, and you didn’t want to be that annoying roommate who didn’t allow their co-habitants any privacy. You planned to grab something quick from the kitchen and escape to your room, as to not be nuisance to the boys in their own apartment.

Granted, it was your apartment too. But it was theirs first, and you were the obvious tacked-on member of the foursome. Something that despite all their gentle efforts to include you in their activities, you never stopped reminding yourself. You had almost made it to the kitchen without interrupting them further, before Sirius spoke.

“How was work, dolly?” Sirius lifted his head from Remus’ lap to beam at you. You turned just enough to not seem rude but also not make them feel trapped in conversation.

“Oh, it was fine. Just the usual. How was your day?” You politely responded.

“Much better now.” Sirius said, salaciously. You didn’t even allow yourself to consider what he was implying with that comment. Sirius, all three of the boys actually, often said things that made your heart race and your head spin with ideas that were simply not acceptable. You were their roommate, nothing else. You would have to over-estimate your importance to them, so any wandering thoughts of what else your relationships could evolve into were simply not allowed.

You shuffled into the kitchen, quickly returning with a piece of toast and tea. You padded past the gaggle of boys, all teasing and talking cheerfully. It was actually very heartwarming to see the interaction between your roommates. It was very rare to see such shameless affection amongst a group of boys. The only thing you feared more than overstepping was making them feel uncomfortable, like you were judging them, so you sent a polite smile their way, about to bid them goodnight.

“Would you like to join us, dove?” Remus called, just as you reached your door. You froze on the spot.

“Oh, no.” You quickly reformed your statement after realizing how rude it seemed. “Thank you, I mean. But I couldn’t intrude. You’re all already… yeah.” You trailed off, not sure how to express your meaning appropriately.

“Nonsense.” James scooted closer to the two other boys, making a (admittedly small) spot for you on the couch. “You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“It’s fine, I promise.” Remus said warmly. “We wouldn't have offered if we didn’t want you to.”

You found that to be very not true. Remus was too polite for his own good. All the boys were. They were so different to you than any other roommates you had in the past. You felt like you couldn’t go a single day without one of them helping you or being sweet on you. It was suffocating in the best way, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to get used to it.

“Please.” Sirius made an attempt to doe-eye you. When you made another glance at your door he dramatically collapsed back onto Remus. “You wound me dollface. You hate our company that much?” The look of panic on your face must have been intense.

“Christ, don’t guilt her pads.” James scolded. “Only if you want, lovely. If you're tired it’s okay.” James was polite and reassuring, but you could tell he was a little disappointed. Well not you had to accept.

“Okay. If you’re absolutely sure I’m not intruding.” You relented, moving to sit on the narrow gap in the couch.

“Positive.” James said, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pressing you to his side. He unpaused the show as he settled in next to you. Remus looked inquiringly at your plate.

“Is that your dinner, love?” He asked, concerned.

“Well, yes. I suppose it is.” You glanced at your still uneaten toast and your cooling tea.

“That won’t do. We have some leftovers from dinner, I’ll go heat those up for you.” Remus urged Sirius from his lap and stood up.

“Oh, that’s okay! You don’t have to. I couldn’t take your food.” You tried to reach to stop him, but your hands were full. Remus completely ignored your protests and was already in the kitchen.

“Oh, let him, sweetheart. It’ll make him happy. He likes doting on you.” James squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “We all do. You should let us more often.” He turned his attention back to the telly before you could even respond.

You didn’t dare let yourself imagine what the implications of that comment could be.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months ago

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Long distance girlfriend surprising Rafe

Request: Reader going to college on the east coast and being stuck there because of snow + Rafe being sad

—

‘’Thank you for choosing Cameron Development for your project, Mr. Phillips. Our secretary will email the documents shortly,’’ Rafe said in his polished, customer-service tone. ‘’Happy holidays.’’

The second the call ended, his forced smile vanished, leaving his face set in a grim scowl. He’s never been a fan of Christmas, but for the first time, he had been looking forward to it — his first Christmas with you. But that changed when a snowstorm hit the East Coast, forcing all flights in New York to get cancelled.

Rafe leaned back in his leather office chair, running a hand through his buzzed hair in frustration. It was only 3pm, but he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was you, alone in your apartment in New York, and most importantly, miles away from him. He thought of driving to you, but Topper resonated with him. If flights were cancelled, some roads would be closed too.

Why must you go to college so far away? With a sigh, Rafe picked up his personal phone for the tenth time today, and re-reading your last message. He was hurting himself by doing this, but reading your message also brought him some comfort.

I’m so sorry I can’t make it to you, baby 😢💔 I’ve been keeping track of the flights, but everything is still cancelled… This snow really wants to sabotage our first Christmas! 😠 In case nothing changes, I’m gonna video-call you on Christmas morning…in my sexy lingerie set I got just for you. Wish you were there to unwrap me 🎁🤭

Before he could finish reading, Wheezie’s face filled his screen with an incoming call.

‘’Wheezie? Why are you calling me?’’ Rafe frowned, leaning back in his chair. She never called him at work unless it was important.

‘’Rafe! Thank god you picked up! I tried calling Sarah, but she didn’t answer.’’ Wheezie's voice was high-pitched and panicked, words spilling out in a rush.

‘’Wheezie, what is it?’’ he asked.

‘’I tried making gingerbread cookies, but I guess I left them in for too long...’’

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. ‘’Just throw them out if they’re burned. It’s not worth breaking a tooth over.’’

‘’No, you don’t understand,’’ she cried, her voice breaking slightly. ‘’There’s smoke all over the kitchen!’’ A coughing fit punctuated her sentence, and Rafe’s heart dropped.

‘’What? Wheeze, are you okay?’’

He was already standing, grabbing his keys. Fuck work.

‘’Can you come home? Please, Rafe. Dad is gonna be so mad if I burn the house down—’’

He didn’t even wait to hang up properly before he was out the door. ‘’I’m coming, Wheeze. Just, stay away from the oven, okay? And get outside if it gets worse. Do you hear me?’’ Rafe’s tone sharpened, his protective instincts kicking in.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of Tannyhill, tires screeching as he parked quickly. His jaw was tight, still on edge from Wheezie’s frantic call. The house seemed calm from the outside, which was strange because she said there was smoke all over the kitchen.

He opened the front door. “Wheezie?” he called out, stepping into the house, his eyes scanning for signs of smoke. ‘’Wheezie, I’m here. Where’s the damn smoke you talked about?’’

The kitchen light was on, and as he stepped closer, his stomach dropped. Instead of finding his little sister panicking, he found you standing in the middle of the kitchen, grinning at him.

‘’Hi.’’

For a split second, neither of you moved. Then, you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Rafe’s brain scrambled to catch up. Then it clicked. The familiar scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your arms — it was really you. His arms locked around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear, and you buried your face in his chest, clutching him like you’d never let go.

‘’What the—’’ He pulled back just enough to grab your face, his blue eyes searching yours, wide with disbelief. ‘’You’re here? Really here?’’

‘’Surprise, baby,’’ you murmured before pressing your lips to his, cutting off whatever string of disbelief he was about to voice again.

The kiss was soft at first, but as the realization sank in, Rafe pulled you closer, deepening it, one hand sliding to your back while the other tangled in your hair. It was desperate and relieved, like he couldn’t believe you were actually there, standing in his kitchen, and not miles away in New York.

He hadn’t seen you since his weekend visit for Thanksgiving, he couldn’t settle with a peck.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, faces inches apart.

Rafe’s forehead pressed against yours. ‘’But you were in New York. The flights—’’ He blinked, still trying to process, his grip on your waist tightening. ‘’How are you here? I mean…what—? Wheezie called me about some fire in the kitchen.’’ He glanced around, half-expecting his sister to pop out from somewhere.

You laughed, guilt flickering across your face. ‘’Yeah, that was her idea. There’s no fire. I told her to find something to make you come home. It worked, didn’t it?’’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘’She knew about you coming here and didn’t tell me?!’’

You nodded. Flights being cancelled was not a lie, but you were able to take a train to another state — where the snow was not as bad —, and take a flight there. You texted Wheezie during your flight, asking for help to surprise Rafe. Why would she not help the girl who brought smiles on her brother’s moody face?

‘’Sorry, baby.’’ You looked up and rubbed your hands over his work button up, feeling the planes of his muscled chest and the warmth of his skin underneath. ‘’I just… I couldn’t stand hearing how sad you sounded yesterday. I had to get here, I tried everything in my power to get to you. Don’t be mad at her, okay? She just wanted to help me.’’

Rafe shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you close as he tilted his head. ‘’You’re lucky I love you,’’ he murmured, his voice absentmindedly falling into your relationship bubble where it was just you and him.

You stayed like that for a moment, bathing in each other’s embrace, until a thought crossed your mind. ‘’Rafe? There’s one other thing I need to tell you: I left your Christmas present in New York…’’ You pulled back, guilt filling you again as you continued and explained yourself. ‘’It was on the table so I wouldn’t forget it, but—’’

But Rafe couldn't care less.

‘’That’s okay. There’s only you on my wishlist anyway.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc @pedrosprincess @mikaelsonsstuff @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @madelynie @loverofdrewstarkey @radiant-whore @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696 @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius @buckyswhxre @emerald-09 @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey @ynmunson @riddle18 @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction

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briarscreek · 8 months ago

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141 rescuing a hostage who was in the middle of rescuing herself

it’s your basic situation of traveling a new country for a bit but getting tricked into human trafficking. hey, the tour guide deal online was too good to pass up and you had a coupon. it’s not your fault.

unfortunately for your captors you over prepared for your trip because you had a hunch this might happen while solo traveling.

anyways, the handlers didn’t even do much except hint that you might be worth good money and tie you to a chair. whatever, you’re not gonna sit here on your ass waiting for someone else to help you. with a quick tug on your boot, you pulled the tiny hidden knife free and quickly cut the ropes on your hands. before leaving you checked the dirty room around you for anything that might help you but it was unfortunately empty besides the chair. oh well, next is getting the fuck out of there.

with hurried steps, you sneaked towards the door to find the door knob trying to move on it’s own. it was locked from your side but why would these oafs try to open the door without the key that they have? maybe if you swing the door open you can surprise them with…something. steeling your resolve you quickly unlock the door and swing it open. what you did not expect was a large foot to hit your torso and knock the wind out of you, making you land on your back.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” you rush out now groaning on the floor trying to catch your breath.

“Christ, bonnie ‘re you ‘lright?”

“Nice goin’ McTavish”

“Was your idea to kick it down, Ghost”

“Yea but you didn’t stop when it opened did ya?”

“Shut it, both of ya”

The fourth soldier who hadn’t spoken yet came down to kneel beside you.

“Are you alright?” He offered his hand to help sit you up.

“As alright as someone who got the wind kicked out of them, but yea I’m just peachy” you sat up with a groan.

“American? What are you doin all the way out here?” The one with mutton chops asked.

“Thought I’d frolic around in an abandoned building. What do you think I’m doing here?”

God, these men are just unbelievable.

What a way to meet your future husband, huh?

#who’s your future husband?#idk you pick #john price #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #briarscreek

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

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(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You��d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia fic #john price x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Love love love the roommate james series! Thank you <3

Me too lovely! Thank YOU <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lightning strikes outside the window just before your laughter reaches James. He perks up, an electric current skittering down into his fingertips. He’s glad no one’s around to witness the way he swivels around on the couch to look out the window, searching for the source of the sound.

Your key is in the lock a moment later. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run up and grab my umbrella?” you ask someone outside as you walk in.

“No, thanks,” a male voice, sounding just as jovial as you do, responds. Without thinking, James stands up. “What’d be the point? I’m already soaked through.”

“Seems like it’s really coming down out there,” James says, stepping into the doorway. You look over as though you hadn’t realized he was there. You’re sopping wet, hair dripping onto the floor and work clothes clinging to your body in ways James takes care not to notice. The man outside is similarly drenched, looking cold but remarkably happy as he takes shelter under the small awning outside your door. “You alright, mate?”

“Good,” he replies, looking at James like he’s not sure if this is someone he’s supposed to be able to place. “And yourself?”

“This is James,” you say, “my roommate. And this is Art, we work together.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Art sticks out a hand, shaking James’ firmly before retracting back out onto your doorstep. “I’d better get home,” he says to you. “See you Friday?”

“Yeah.” You nod briskly, giving him a small smile as he turns around and goes. James shuts the door after him with a definitive thud.

“Christ, love, aren’t you cold?” He fights the urge to set his hands on your arms and rub warmth into them. His friends are so touchy, it’s a bit difficult to adjust for someone who isn’t.

“Yeah,” you admit with another little smile (James likes this one better, though he’s unsure why). Now that you’re standing still, you’re beginning to shiver. “Could you maybe grab me a towel from upstairs? Sorry to ask, I just don’t want to track water in.”

James is already moving. “Don’t be sorry,” he chides as he climbs the stairs.

As he looks for where you keep your towels, he can’t stop thinking about the thrilled way you and Art had looked at each other. Your ringing laughter outside the door. He’s happy you feel comfortable enough at your job to laugh and have fun with your coworkers, but he’s a bit hurt that you don’t seem to feel the same sort of ease around him. James has managed to coax a few smiles from you since he moved in, and a decent amount of laughter, too, but more often than not it comes with some resistance. He’ll catch you trying to conceal a grin, cutting your laugh off before it’s really begun. Then you’ll look at him like you’re embarrassed for being caught in a joyous moment. As if they’re something to be bashful about, and not something that lightens James’ heart until it threatens to float off and take him with it.

He ends up grabbing both the towel and that giant sweatshirt you like, tossing the latter in the dryer on his way back to you.

“Thanks.” You reach for the towel, but James wraps it around your shoulders himself.

“Don’t mention it.” He breaks, giving the tops of your arms a couple of good rubs before stepping back and letting you take over. “Do you want something warm to drink?”

Your eyes light up, but then you purse your lips. “I’m fine, thanks.”

James gives you a look.

You must really be in a good mood, because you crack easily. “Fine, a hot cocoa would be night-making,” you admit, grinning at him again. He wouldn’t be surprised if his chest was actually, visibly glowing. “Thanks, James.”

“So,” he asks, hating himself just a little bit, “why did Art walk you back if neither of you had an umbrella?” He flicks on the kettle.

“He lives nearby,” you reply. “We actually walk home together fairly often, whenever we’re both working at night.”

James feels a stab of guilt. Of course, it makes perfect sense that you’d need someone to walk with you when you’re leaving work after dark. He feels stupid and inconsiderate for not thinking of it.

“That’s nice of him,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of walking you home before. I could always come and get you.”

A pause. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to. And please don’t be sorry, it’s not your issue to think about.”

It feels like his issue. He wants to think about it. “Still. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, but for Art it’s on his way home. You’d have to go both ways.”

James doesn’t care. For reasons he doesn’t understand and refuses to reflect upon, he wants to be the one who makes sure you get home safely. That’s got to be a typical roommate responsibility, right?

“You forget, I have a car,” he says, pouring the hot water into two mugs. He stirs in the cocoa mix. “I could drive both you and Art, if you’d like. Could have saved you a lot of trouble on a night like tonight.”

“I actually really love the rain.” Your voice sounds clearer, and James turns around to find that evidently you’ve dubbed yourself dry enough to walk around. You’ve squeezed most of the moisture out of your hair, but your lashes are still clumped damply. Your face shines. “We ran because we were worried about our phones, but it was fun.”

“Well, glad your impending hypothermia was worth it.” He starts to push your mug towards you, then pauses. “Oh, wait just a second.”

He quickly goes back to the dryer, getting out your warmed sweatshirt and bringing it to you. Your face when you see it makes James wish he had a camera, your eyebrows hooking upward and lips actually parting like he’s brought you a kitten rather than a sweatshirt. You’re truly in rare form tonight.

“Oh my god, thank you.” You start to position the hole over your head, then hesitate. “Actually, would you—” Your bottom lip goes briefly between your teeth, a flash of that shy girl he’s been seeing less and less of lately. You wrap your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “I should probably take my wet clothes off. Would you mind turning around for a minute?”

“Oh—yeah, of course.” James does. He covers his eyes for good measure, smiling to himself when he hears your amused little huff from behind him. Then there’s the wet sound of some item of clothing hitting the floor, and his smile fades. He can hear your skin shushing against fabric, your quiet breaths, the tiny sound you make when your clothes stick obstinately to your skin just for a moment before you peel them off. James feels somewhat warmer than he did a minute ago.

“Okay, you’re good.”

He turns around, and you’ve already got your hot cocoa in hand. Your sweatshirt hits at mid-thigh, sleeves covering the better parts of your hands that aren’t wrapped covetously around your mug. It takes a great deal of willpower not to look at the clothes piled on the floor and see if your underwear are among them.

“This is really good,” you say, somewhat awkwardly. You’re looking at James bemusedly, used to him being the one who talks.

He jumps back into his role. “I don’t know why you sound surprised. It always is, when I make it.”

James leads the both of you into the living room, plopping down on the couch. You, of course, have the option of going upstairs to your room, but he knows you’ll follow. You sit down carefully, tucking your knees under the hem of your sweatshirt and resting your mug atop them.

“So,” he says, reaching forward and unsticking a piece of hair from your eyebrow. You fluster but let him, and he smooths it behind your ear, “are you the type of person who likes to stay in and watch films when it’s storming, or do you only enjoy running about in them?”

You hum into your hot cocoa. “I like a film.”

“Perfect, then it’s your pick this time.” You start to protest, but James holds firm. “No, you’ve bullied me into picking the last three. It’s time to start pulling your weight around here.”

It takes you a bit longer to relent, but finally he gets you to admit to a preferred film. As the intro credits are playing, thunder cracks outside, and an excited little shiver has you bringing up your shoulders. A smile, seemingly unconscious, ghosts over your lips. James grins in response. Cute.

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 month ago

Text

so soft like silk chiffon

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Contents: Sickeningly sweet and cosy domesticity. Female reader. Eddie and reader share clothes, but I see her as curvy. Librarian / Bookstore reader x Record Store Eddie. Food mention. Weed mention if you squint.

Note: This started as a single line in doc, abandoned for months and months. Looking for anything to focus on and any distractions from life, I present the doc formerly known as ‘Eddie Munson makes you dinner while wearing your silky robe. Send tweet.’ Barely edited, certainly not beta’ed. This is as much a surprise to me as it may be to you!

PS - I like to think of these two as the same couple from The Boy Is Mine, but feel free to imagine otherwise. Enjoy!

The keys in your hand are skin-warmed, digging their teeth into your palm and leaving their tangy metallic bitemarks behind. So eager to get home, you do not feel their weight or their sharp edges.

Home.

The thought alone makes you smile. An easy curve of your lips, much more effortless and real than your customer service facade.

Home is more than the hot shower and fresh bedsheets waiting to wash away the day and welcome you home. It is more than the stocked-up cupboards and the cold bottle of wine that calls ‘drink me!’ so sweetly after a long shift. More than the couch that cradles your weight and the records stacked and spinning as you breath in earthy green to unwind a little more, sink a little deeper into the weekend.

All of those things are great, you cannot wait to scrub away the sheen of sweat and the dry feeling that lingers on your hands after hours of stacking returned books and settle yourself into the groove in the couch with a carb-heavy dinner and cold white wine, the perfect remedy for the summer programme planning meeting-induced headache.

Now, home is so much more than simple pleasures and little luxuries.

It’s the man who kissed you goodbye on the stoop before you turned in opposite directions for work this morning, both sleepy-headed as you set the countdown until you see each other again. Tick tock, tick tock, two whole days together over the weekend.

It is the man who races you back to the apartment, waiting with a triumphant smirk and an invitation to share the hot water, or a smiley face in steam on the bathroom mirror. When you win the race, the sound of his key in the lock and his goofy ‘honey, I’m home’ makes your tummy flutter.

Home is more than four walls and a front door; a small apartment at the top of Lakeview, perfectly poised between the library and the record store, with friends and favourite bars dotted around the Windy City.

You have been playing house with Eddie since you were both gap-toothed with scraped knees, making up magical lands and adventures from morning until the sun set and only re-entering the real world to raid your fridge or eat the sandwiches Wayne made with cold cuts and crispy salty chips. It made sense that you would always be home for each other.

The final few steps do not feel so arduous when you know he is home before you; the sound of Black Sabbath already playing from the stereo beckons you back into the cosy confines of your apartment. Smiling to yourself again, you take a final step over the threshold, feeling weightless.

Through the shred of War Pigs, Eddie catches the jangle of keys and the quick click of the closing door. He skids on socked feet from the kitchen to the short hallway, smile wide and eyes sparkling.

“She’s home!”

Eddie’s arms span out wide, swathed in wide swishing satin. He’s wearing your robe again, half open over his bare chest and boxers. The check print and his inked-up hairy legs are a wonderful contrast to the delicate swish and sway of painted florals.

When it’s not wrapped around your bed-warm body in the mornings or draped on your lotioned post-shower skin at night, it hangs on the back of the bedroom door like a silky waterfall. That is until the seasons turn and the printed satin is carefully laundered and folded away, replaced with teddy-soft terrycloth until the weather warms again.

It just smells like you, which justifies how often Eddie wears it when you’re not home, and sometimes when you are. It is not just your lotion and perfume, your shampoo and the coffee you mopped up with the edge of your sleeve the other morning. An indescribable essence of you has been threaded through the thin fabric, sewn through satin like a phantom thread.

And now it smells like Eddie too; the collar holds a musk that you cannot name, other than it is totally Him.

You can smell it now as he wraps you up, a gentle blend of his and hers. Eddie’s hug manages to drain every ounce of tension and stress from your body, loosening your clenched jaw and tight shoulders with a simple squeeze.

“Missed you,” murmured against his neck, your cheek pillowed by satin and a spill of curls that escapes his scrunchie.

“Bad day?”

The slow pass of his hands along your back melts away the tight ache that had settled just beneath your waistband.

“No, just better now.”

Even with your eyes closed, you can feel his smile, hear it.

“Aww, you like me or somethin’?” he murmurs, a wisp of warm breath tickling your neck that cries out to be kissed.

Eddie is a weak man, easily tempted at times, and presses three sweet kisses from the collar of your shirt to the base of your jaw.

“Or something.”

He feels your smile too, the curve of your mouth against his shoulder. He has to see it, pulls away just enough to sneak a peek at pure sunshine. Your teasing is taken with a grain of salt, betrayed by how down bad you are for him.

“Hungry?” he asks, gliding his thumb along your cheek with an almost hypnotic gentleness.

“Yeah, are you cooking for me?”

Beyond the shower clean scent of him, you find notes of garlic and rich tomato. Your stomach rolls ravenously, mouth wet at the thought of his pasta sauce.

His coy shrug makes you smile, proud of himself for predicting that you needed a night off dinner duty and an obscene amount of pasta as your week draws to a close. Eddie had noticed the tightness in your jaw, the way your shoulders had crept higher and higher with each working day.

“Just somethin’ easy, carby. That okay?”

The way your eyes sparkle - something between thrilled and touched by his kindness - gives you away before you can crush into him again, arms winding around the solid trunk of him to squeeze.

“I love you.”

Your voice is muffled against his chest, but Eddie can feel it; the way your lips form those three words, the adoration that radiates from you into him. He drinks it up.

“I love you.”

He kisses the top of your head, crowning you with his love.

You stand there, in the hallway of your home together, a slow rocking sway, foot to foot.

Before you let each other leave - you to the bedroom to strip off your clothes and wash the day away, Eddie to the kitchen - one more kiss, syrup-slow and sweet, is shared amongst the lived-in clutter. A box of books and clothes to donate, a borrowed amp to return, the rescued-from-the-sidewalk side table holding your keys, a vase of flowers and a framed photo of you, Eddie & Wayne at a barbecue in Forrest Hills.

Slowly you part, coming unstuck from each other so that you can come back together again over plates of pasta and plans for your weekend.

When you a shower-damp with hair dripping on the plains of your shoulders, you remember your robe has been stolen by a handsome thief. A wash-worn t-shirt lies folded on the counter with your pyjama shorts, waiting for you beneath the heart traced in steam, oozing with adoration.

Butter soft beneath your fingertips, you bury your nose in the stretched-out collar and breathe in the scent of him. The scent of home.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Your comments, reblogs and likes are cherised!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bangaveragefics #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson str #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader

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drewswifeeee · 4 months ago

Text

Ice Cream shop

Summary: Rafe & Y/n go on a ice cream date but Sarah crashes it by third wheeling... or so Rafe thought. Warnings: Making out, nipple sucking, Rafe getting pissed off, ass slapping, use of petnames like "bunny, baby, Sweetgirl, good girl, and daddy's girl(I'm pretty sure that's it, if not lmk)

You walk into TannyHill looking around for Rafe, that's when Sarah pops out of nowhere "boo, bitch!" she exclaimed as you jump back holding your chest, "Damnit Sar!" You gasp glaring at her as she raises her eyebrow at you "yeah... never cuss again" she says since you never swear, only on rare occasions.

"Sarah quit messing with bunny" Rafe comes out his room rolling his eyes as he walks over and his eyes meet yours "there's my sweet girl, hm" he says leaning down pecking your lips "hi rayray" you mumble and smile against his lips, "ew you guys are sickingly cute" Sarah grimaces.

"Ready for that ice cream dat-" Sarah cuts rafe off yelling as she clumsily slips her shoes on "IM READY!" You jump as your eyes widen as she yells, grabbing her purse."Sarah, you're not going" Rafe grumbles as you furrow your eyebrows. "Baby, just let her come, plus it'll be fun since you're a.. boring person, no offense. "

That's how rafe found himself being more like the third-wheel than Sarah, Y/n and Sarah are sitting on the bench in the ice cream store laughing and talking as they eat our ice cream and rafe.. well, he's sitting next to you, glaring at Sarah as his hand possessively rubs up and down your thigh "I'll be back, I'm gonna use the girls room" you cut rafe out of his trance as you get up leaving and going to the bathroom.

You’re in the bathroom exiting the stall when you feel rafe push you up against the bathroom wall “did we really have to invite her?” he mumbles kissing down you’re neck “Mm, Rafe we’re in a public restroom” you moan softly as he slips your small pink tank top off looking at you’re braless perky nipples

“cmon pretty girl let daddy have his girls” he murmurs and before you can answer his lips latch around your perky nipple as you moan softly, your head falls back against the cold tile as your back arches. You grip his hair pulling his face away from your breast and kiss his lips sloppily and needy.

You bite you’re bottom lip as he lowers to his knees and his head disappears under your skirt as he licks a strip up your slit “ra- ray” you gasp and moan as your hand flys to his head putting one leg over his shoulder “Mm, who’s daddy’s good girl?” You don’t answer right away and whimper as he slaps your ass “be a good girl, use your words” he whispers against your clit “I- I’m daddy’s girl” you gasp and moan as he sucks on your clit.

“Ray I- I’m gonna-“ before you could finish your orgasm crashes over you as you moan softly, you grind up against his face as he drowns himself in my cunt.

After some time you both walk out the restroom as you fix your top and hair as Rafe follows behind you fixing your skirt, you walk over to Sarah “hey sar, we’re probably gonna cut the “date” short” you say scratching the back of your neck as as Sarah puts two and two together “okay ok probably go stay with Kiara” you nod as she says bye and leaves to go stay with Kiara.

“Get that little ass in there” Rafe shakes his head smacking your ass “I’m going! I’m going!” You giggle running inside the house as he locks his truck doors coming in the house sitting his keys on the table next to the front door.

You’re in the bedroom putting on your night clothes as he comes in the room staring at you “you know we could’ve had a whole day to ourselves if you didn’t invite Sarah on OUR date” he says taking off his clothes “I know baby I’m sorry, she just didn’t have anyone to hangout with” you say walking over to him on the bed as you shut off the bedside table lamp.

You crawl up into bed laying your head down on his chest as he covers both of you up “how about we just go on a date tomorrow night, just us.. me and you?” You hum closing your eyes “yeah, alright baby go to sleep” he whispers kissing you’re lips before you both drift off to sleep.

PLEASE DO NOT RE-EDIT OR COPY THIS POST

This is like my second story I’ve made so please give an honest review. Lmk if I should make a taglist!!!

#outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #Rafe Cameron X sweetheart!reader #drew starkey #obx #rafe cameron

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 17 days ago

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Plant dad’s Stucky

I know random but I just thought about them having a lot of plants and also giving them names. But their missions make it hard to take care of them 24/7 so they hire someone..

Just popped to my head and I thought I had to share this with you, because Idk who else to tell.

Like a Good Neighbour

Hopefully it's not too much. Here's a little idea that popped up. Thanks for the thot.

Warning: general creep factor, obsession, allusions to stalking.

"Hey, you think you can keep an eye on the place again. The monstera's finally looking good again." Steve leans in your door frame. arms crossed as they strain the sleeves of his cotton tee. He's got a leather duffel on his shoulder and his shield on his back.

"Does Captain America not have everything figured out? You're out there saving the world and I gotta save your English Ivy from rot." You scoff.

"I left Bucky instructions but... he forgets."

"Right. I guess I can look in. He's around?"

"In and out. It's been a lot of back and forth for both of us lately." He sighs.

"That's too bad."

"Oh, and Alpine's been eating the philodendron... Jerk."

You chuckle. "Cat's are so cute, aren't they?"

He shakes his head. "Still got that copy of the key?"

"Did I not give that back? Gee, I hope you don't think I'm a creep or something." You kid.

"Hey, no problem. Think me and the other old man can take care of ourselves," he straightens his arms and grins. "If a little trail mix goes missing or even some of the candy bars he keeps under the sink that he thinks I don't know about, won't be too much. Oh, and I'll even pay you."

"It's nothing, really."

"It more than that to me," he insists. "Anyway," he taps on the door. "Should head out. Usually I'm on everyone else for being late."

"Alright, Steve. I'll let you know if anything catastrophic happens. Like maybe the leaves start growing eyes."

"Right. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Like I said," you go back to fiddling with the broken zipper on the cushion. "It's no problem."

🪴

You knock on the door. You haven't seen either of your neighbours in a few days. You wait and try again. You don't mind the favour asked but can't help but feel intrusive.

When no answer comes, you shove the keys in the lock and let yourself in. You flip on the light as the keys jingle noisily. Steve and Bucky's apartment has a particular feel; weather wood and black iron. Very vintage.

A shelf frames one of the large windows, filled with overflowing pots of vine and leaf and a few petals. The smell of the foliage blends with the faint scent of cedar. You cross the apartment as you shove your keyring in your back pocket. You touch the soil; dry. The sun is streaming right in on the greenery.

You re-arrange a few pots. Some should be in direct light and these ones need a little recovery. You take the watering can from beside the shelf and turn. You gasp but don't shriek as you're met with an unexpected presence. Phew. It's just the cat.

The snow white cat stares. You watch he warily as you cross the apartment. Her eyes follow but not her. You go into the kitchen to feel the can.

As you carry it back out, a door opens and your voice finally tears free and breaks the lull. You touch your chest as you slosh water onto the hardwood.

Bucky stands in the bathroom door, covered only from the waist down. A towel hangs precariously around his hips. His stomach is thick but muscled, his arms sculpted in the same layers of strength. You focus on his face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Steve asked me--"

"He told me he didn't trust me. Wasn't me who killed the orchid." Bucky intones dully.

You nod. "Uh, right, I'm just going to water them and I'll be out of your hair."

"Mm," he hums.

The white cat circles his ankles and he bends to pick her up. You look away, not wanting to see too much. You go to the shelf and pour the water over each pot.

"You got a mop or something? I'll clean up the spill before--" You reach up and stand on your toes, straining to get the higher row.

Bucky takes the can from you and you gulp back your surprise. He's close as he continues the task across the top. He hands it back quietly.

"I'll deal with it. Thanks."

"No problem. Um. I guess I probably don't need to come back, right? Since you're around."

"Leaving. Tonight." He says. The cat flops and bats at his foot. He looks down. "Can you feed her when I'm gone?"

You shrug. "Well, sure. I'm already feeding the plants."

"Thanks," he says. "She chews on any more of those and he'll sleep on the couch again."

You chuckle. "Plants can be fickle. Cat's too."

"Men too," he snorts and turns away. "Nice of you to do that but I'm still going to have to keep sneaking in new ones."

You narrow your eyes as he disappears down the hall. You almost laugh again. Of course he'd be sneaking in replacements. You're pretty sure the spider plant was in a different planter last time.

🪴

Your visits become daily. The cat is needier than the plants. She still avoids you, keeping the room's breadth away from you. She watches you, chaperones you even, as you check the plants. They look better.

You back up to take a photo for Steve. You send it and tuck your phone away. You go to the kitchen and grab one of the little trays of cat food Bucky left on the counter. She gets the fancy stuff.

"Filet mignon, oooh." You say as you scrape the food into her dish. "You eat better than me."

You carry the bowl to the little holder and put it beside the water dish. She's quick to shove her head into the pate.

You stand and back up. Your foot hits something on the floor as you do. It's small. You squat to scoop it up. You lift the charm and hold it up. You recognise it. Huh?

The last time you wore this, you thought you lost it on the train. How did it get here? You're happy to see it but you're confused. Or maybe you just didn't notice the empty chain until later.

You put it in your front pocket and look around. Wait a minute. You never paid that much attention when you came to their apartment. Always just in and out. But that's your mug. With the Ojibwe art. It's hand-crafted and one of a kind. You thought it got lost in the move. That was so long ago.

You bristle. What the heck? Are they some sort of kleptos? The necklace could be a happy accident, but the cup?

You slowly trawl through to the front room. You look around cautiously. You pace through the front room. That's your copy of The Stand. You know because the strip of tape across the spine.

This is wild. They knew you were going to be here. Could they be that clueless or that brazen?

You leave the book and charge around, fueled by shock and anger. In the bathroom, there's a tray on the shelf beneath the mirror. On it is your old toothbrush you threw out and a ball of hair. Your hair. What in the fuck?

There's a clear container right above the toilet. No fucking way. Ew, ew, ew. Your panties and menstrual pads. Used. You nearly gag.

Your outrage turns to disgust then piques to horror. You need to get out of there. Now.

You turn and find the doorway blocked. You blink at Steve as he chews his lip, the tendons in his neck tensing. His mouth curves weakly and his brows wrinkle.

"You were supposed to water the plants." He says.

You stare at each other as the statement hangs in the air. It's shadowed by what he doesn't say; about what you weren't supposed to do; or supposed to notice. You both know there's only one way out and who will win that fight.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #stucky #avengers #winter soldier

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yandere-sins · 9 months ago

Text

Monstober - Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat

I had a request for the continuation of my last werewolf!boyfriend story for at least a year now... time to make it nasty, ehehe >:3 I dedicate this to all my monster readers, and those that really enjoy knotting. >:3

First Part here!

Prompt: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Fem!Reader, Dub-Con, Praising, Degradation, Knotting, Knotfucking, Nicknames, Cunnilingus, Orgasming from pain, Use of pheromones to make darling horny, Mentioning of sexual manipulation, Monsterfuckery (more animal than human in this case), Talking about pregnancy), Violence (Breaking a door, Biting, Blood Mention, Mention of claws), Animal behavior, Monster descriptions, Very long post

"I know... Maybe... But the smell... No, no, no... Ah, I want to..."

Scraps of a conversation—one not held with you—reached your drowsy mind, slowly pulling you out of your dreams, which were almost as grim as reality. Ever since you discovered your boyfriend's true nature on that full-moon-night weeks ago, your depression had grown more and more. You fought at first, reasoned, pleaded to what was left of your sweet boyfriend. But the animal had taken roots too deep for you to tear them out.

And now, there was not much to do other than sleep.

The cottage had never felt like home, but it was suffocating now. When he wasn't around, you were locked up. And when he was home, he was overbearing, doting, and downright creepy. You caught him sniffing the bathroom door more than once just because you hid inside the room for a while. He explained that he just wanted to ensure you were okay, but you couldn't be so sure about it.

Hearing him pace back and forth behind the bedroom door wasn't as alarming anymore as it should have been. It didn't alert you right away, since he always seemed to be around, even when he wasn't. But this night was special, and between depression naps and being force-fed canned ravioli, this time, you did strain your ears after shaking off the initial drowsiness.

"Ah, awake, good, good... No! No, not good, not good! No..."

You sighed, listening to his rambles turning into a soft whine, the longing scratching of his nails against the bedroom door. From your position on the bed you spied the key still dangling from the lock, followed by countless steel locks snapped into place next to the frame. He had advised you to do it, and spending a night alone in your room was more of a pleasure than you cared to admit.

It was another full-moon night.

The first one since you found out, to be exact. And it hadn't been you who raised concerns at realizing it, your ex still remembering the blood bath he left after last time. It hadn't been intentional, but after throwing you across the parking lot, scratching you with his claws while carrying you, and biting your ankle when you didn't want to stop fighting, he had been devastated, wishing to avoid the bloodshed at all costs.

Of course, you wanted to avoid getting hurt again, too, even if your feelings and desires had become relatively meaningless over time. You still wanted to fight, but hiding was your second best option, and knowing he cared just a little about your well-being gave you some hope that not all was lost. One day, you'd escape him, but maybe not on this particular night. All you had to do for now was wait it out, keep quiet, don't alert the beast of your presence.

"Hrngh, mate... need to... mhm, no. Not like this..."

If only he wasn't so damn annoying.

"Just shut up!" you yelled, unable to fall asleep even after trying your hardest. It was bad enough to be in this situation, you didn't need a velcro werewolf to add to your misery and deny you the one thing you liked doing—sleeping in peace.

A soft whine escaped your ex as he halted in his tracks, and you sighed, feeling stupid that you blew your cover completely. Now that he knew you were definitely awake, he'd probably create an even bigger ruckus, especially when you refused to let him in. You heard his body rubbing against the wood, followed by the sound of his sniffing, and you cursed the door for being so poorly soundproofed. Ever since you found out what he was, he didn't hold back the strange mannerism his other form brought with. And you wanted nothing more than to escape the weirdness of this inhuman beast.

He groaned on the other side of the door, and you groaned inwardly as you realized even his breathing had gotten annoying.

"What are you even doing?" you asked him, not needing to yell for him to hear.

"N-Nothing..." he stuttered, sounding dejected and pathetic as he mumbled it into the doorframe. He had always been a lousy liar, but saying this while behaving like a mad dog was almost insulting. Some more hums and sighs reached you ever so often, the creepiness of it all rattling you every time.

"Can you go away?" you asked, annoyed. You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep like this, feeling constantly threatened and grossed out by his presence like this. But your ex merely slumped against the door, letting out a mix of a groan and a growl. It was as if he was on drugs—and not the good kind.

Grabbing your pillow, you wrapped it around your ears, hoping to eradicate the sounds coming from the door. But like so many times before, your hopes were literally smashed as you heard the frightening sound of violently cracking wood.

Immediately, you sat up, staring wide-eyed at the door. It was a small frame of pliable wood, but for some reason, you had felt safe with it separating you from the monster outside. As if it, with all the locks he installed and let you manage, could keep him out. But as you watched the door bend, his body slamming into it from the other side, you realized it had never been enough, not nearly.

"S-Stop!" you called out, and an inhuman growl escaped from behind the splintering wood.

"No stop," the beast growled back, the sounds of claws raking over the wood sent goosebumps down your spine. "My mate..." he sighed in that awful, inhuman voice, and you gulped as you listened to the sniffs. "I know where you are, Mate. So desperate, so in need."

You gasped as his shoulder finally broke through the door, pulling out of the hole it punched through, only to be replaced by his face. You sat completely still as his eyes roamed, taking only milliseconds to find and fixate on you. He had already shifted most of his features, hair growing where it wasn't supposed to, eyes turning from soft green to an intense emerald, his pupils small and digging into you.

Both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, but you were surprised when he groaned once again, sounding desperate as he withdrew. Before you could say anything, his arm—already fully shifted, with claws for nails and the greyish-brown fur of an animal coating his skin—burst through, getting caught on the splintering wood, yet not caring as it pawed at the locks. Desperate to get it. To get to you.

"Mate," he whined, stopping in his tracks. "Let me in, yes? Let me make you feel good."

You shook your head, unable to voice your thoughts. As if you'd let that thing inside and do harm to you. No matter what it said, that wasn't going to happen.

Another growl, the door shaking while he gripped the first lock, yanking at it. After losing his grip once, he tried again, and before your very eyes, the first lock crumbled in his fist. He wouldn't be stopped by something puny like this, whether you helped him or not. You carefully clambered out of bed, not feeling safe cowering anymore. Desperate, you fiddled with the lock on the window, hoping it would be just as easily removable as your ex made it seem.

Crunch, gone was another lock on the door, the wood bending and creaking further as a body much larger and heavier leaned against it.

Just your lock didn't budge, even as you yanked and begged it to give way. "Come on," you whispered, and the beast growled from behind you, only encouraged by your words to break another one of the door locks.

But suddenly, in the middle of your frenzy to escape before the werewolf could get to you, you heard a whine louder than any before. The arm retracted, and you listened to the chaos unfold outside as the body of your ex slammed into the furniture in the hallway, scraping along the walls.

"No! No, stop! She's scared, she doesn't want this!" This was clearly your boyfriend's voice, begging with something—most likely himself—to stop. Your heart swelled with thankfulness, knowing he was the only one able to subdue the beast. But it was strong, as it had showcased so many times now.

"Yes, she wants," the beast growled. "She's fertile, she's ready. We waited so long to be one. Be one with our mate. Now we have her, and she needs us!"

"But she's not a werewolf! She's not ready for... for this!"

There was so much disgust and hate in his last words, and although you could imagine he meant this situation, you weren't sure if that was truly what he was implying. Maybe there was something more, something even worse, awaiting you that only your ex knew about.

Much to your own shame, your thoughts drifted temporarily, and you were unable to shift them back to focus. Fertile, ready, being one. It suddenly clicked what this monster wanted, and heat flooded your body, causing your core to clench. This had never been about hurting or scaring you.

The monster was, quite literally, trying to mate with you.

A gravelly groan escaped the beast, and you shuddered, feeling caught as the sound raked through your body unwillingly.

"There, she's ready. Waiting for us. Need us," it growled before softly whining, the sound of your boyfriend's voice not reemerging this time.

"I'm ready, too, need to see that pretty cunt, lick up that sweet scent."

Never once since finding out about your ex's secret had you thought about sex with your boyfriend. Depression killed most of your libido, and his touches disgusted you rather than excited. But he, on the other hand, or perhaps that beast controlling him, apparently had.

Looking out of the window, you had a full view of the bright full moon, hanging like an executioner's axe above your head. Even if you could escape this room, you knew you couldn't outrun the monster. Not with his enhanced senses and abilities. You could try to fight him, but your chances of success were slim with his superior strength and the possibility of you freezing up when you were face to face with the creature.

What should you do then? Simply... give up?

You shuddered, another cracking reminding you the monster was again working on opening the door. On getting to you. He wouldn't stop. He didn't when you screamed and begged, didn't when you were obviously afraid. There was no reasoning with an animal, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"Mhm, sad... Mate sad," your ex whined through the gap in the door, his voice mixing into the monster's way of talking. As if to lure you, like the big bad wolf had with little red riding hood. "Soon. I'll be there soon."

You knew it would be.

Surprised, you found yourself in front of the door, watching as the gnarly arm yanked at the second to last lock, impatiently trying to tear it off. There wasn't much you could possibly do to save yourself, but it was all too much to bear for your psyche. Tears fell freely as you reached up, not even realizing you had come so close to the beast, and brushed your hand over his fur. He stilled, letting go of the lock as he reached up instead.

Your breath hitched as you thought he would wrap his paw around your throat, but instead, his palm cupped your face, clawed thumb wiping away the tears. "Open the door," he rumbled softly, commanding it despite the gentle instruction. "Let me come in, mate. Let me comfort you."

His hand fell from your face, brushing down your body. There was something so strangely sensual in this huge paw of a hand gently caressing your body, even if the claws could slit you open at any given moment. You were going crazy, but you didn't move, didn't shove him away as you should have. He drove over the curve of your breast, his knuckles getting caught on your nipple, flicking it one after the other before he moved on to the side of your hip. Then the hand slit around the small of your back, pushing you closer to the door before settling above your ass.

Its presence was like a threat, and you reached up with shaking hands, slowly fiddling with the key to the door before unlocking it. Two more to go.

"Good," it growled. "I can smell your arousal. I'll see to it soon, pretty mate. Open it. Open the door."

Click. Did you want it to? Did you perhaps want that werewolf to get to you, ravage you like the beast it was? Had you gone insane after a month of isolation and depression? Your breath hitched as you reached for the last lock, the steady growling turning into more of a purr as his hand spread over your asscheek, slowly rubbing it, fingers dipping down too low for comfort with his elongated tips. Yet, when he pulled them from between your legs, you followed his touch, chasing the tingles he left in his wake.

Yes. You had gone insane. Fuck, you must have been mad, but your hands acted on their own as they unlocked the last barricade between you two.

"I-I'm opening it now," you announced, and the monster hummed appreciatively.

"Yes... Yes, you open it now, sweet thing. Let me in."

Your breathing ragged, the last lock clicked open much too easily, and you stepped backward as the wood creaked open. The monster's arm retracted after pushing down the handle from the inside, the splintered wood cracking out of the way as the creature's massive body broke through the frame.

There was more growling as it got stuck in the small opening, his body way too massive to fit, but it was too eager to wait. The werewolf jammed into it, shoulder and legs getting caught as he couldn't decide what should go first.

You gasped, noticing he hadn't even shifted fully yet, with much of your ex-boyfriend's features remaining as you caught his gaze, looking at you with desperation and sorrow.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered, his voice the growl of a beast, yet you knew it was your boyfriend talking to you. Telling you he couldn't stop it—no, he couldn't stop himself. You needed to stop differentiating the two when they were one and the same. And you were what they wanted, they desired, even if his rational part tried to protect you from the one that ran purely on instinct. You were prey. Prey that the werewolf wanted to fuck and then devour.

For some reason, that revelation made your heart race faster, and your legs clenched tighter together, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"Pretty mate," he sighed. "Pretty, pretty. So needy, so ready."

"W-What do you mean?" you asked him, and his grimace twisted into a grin.

"I can smell it. You are ripe and fertile. You're gonna take my seed and you will enjoy it, begging to have my cubs."

A gasp escaped you as you were slowly backed into the wall to the side of the bed. It was moments like these that made you regret not caring enough before. Not stealing a knife from the kitchen or asking for silver to protect you. Fuck, how could you have been so stupid as to open the door?! How could you do this to yourself?!

Your core clenched, and the shameful realization finally dawned on you. It had been some time since your period, and that meant... you were ovulating. Your libido may have been off, but nature didn't miss. Especially not if your boyfriend had some weird, werewolf pheromones you didn't notice before. It was your only explanation for wanting this thing anywhere close to you. You two used to have a very active sex life, but you had always used protection, and he had never pressed you to do what you didn't want. Maybe that made you too easily persuaded now, in this situation. A false sense of trust

"Don't be scared," the creature purred, reaching out his fully shifted arm towards you. "I'll take good care of you. I'll start right now."

With that and the terrifying sound of wood breaking, that massive monster plummeted to his knees, more hair sprouting as the full transformation took place. You watched in horror and awe as his snout elongated, teeth sharpening, and ears protruding from the top of his head. You wanted to throw up, but you had no time as the snout leaned forward, landing right between your legs.

The deep inhale could be felt through all the layers of clothes on you, and you felt your own wetness betraying you as it seeped into your panties. The monster was way too huge, even as he knelt, his body bending in what must have been painful for him just so he could kneel before you and sniff your privates mercilessly, driven by the need to satisfy his and your cravings.

Pushing his snout upwards, an electric shock went through you as it flicked your clit, maw splitting to allow his tongue to lap out. It was so damn long, able to easily slip between your asscheeks from his front-facing position. And it moved like a separate entity, a snake able to buckle and twist, eager to taste all you were offering.

Claws hooked beneath the waistband of your pajama, and you squeaked as he rapidly pulled them down to your ankles. His tongue moved out of the way only to let the fabric pass, immediately slinging back between your legs, licking up all the excess wet coating the inside of your thighs. You let out an involuntary moan as the tip of his tongue poked at your entrance through the fabric, and the monster chuckled, his tongue vibrating along to the sound.

It was almost too much. Your body bent forward, the monster's shoulders perfectly in reach to grab onto, and you leaned into his snout. He took it as a sign of your willingness, arms reaching out to support you by the hips, and you whined as the thick muscle pressed into you teasingly. You'd never be able to take it fully, and the fear gave you another pang to your core, making you imagine what it would be like inside you, winding and twisting around.

You felt so embarrassed that you were thinking about these things, not understanding why your body would crave them. But you couldn't stop. Couldn't stop thinking of the ways it could lap at your folds, play your clit, or dig deeper than anything ever had before. Maybe with a tongue like this, your orgasm wouldn't be an every-once-in-a-while thing but a constant, double, triple pleasure that only you got to experience. You were fucking going insane, and the shame almost turned you on more.

"So good," the monster praised, and the deep sound shuddered through your body. You raised onto your tiptoes, realizing you were so close to the edge of depravity. But that was when he sniffed your soaked-through panties, inhaled with a long, deep breath before suddenly closing his maw, leaving you breathless and violently tingling.

"You're ready," the creature announced and you whined as he pulled the last bit of pressure—his nose—from your clit, leaving you with nothing. You didn't know you could be this needy, but your fingers curled into his fur, silently willing him back to give you the earth-shaking orgasm he had built up to.

"You need to be filled up, sweet thing. Need my seed to swell your belly until it bursts and give you what you desire, little mate."

His hold on your hips grew uncomfortably tight, but before you knew it, you were lifted off the ground. A breathless gasp escaped you as you were carried over to the bed, your head hitting your pillow with a soft "Uff!" escaping you. But when you opened your eyes, the werewolf was right there, his legs spread on either side of the bed, one arm gripping the iron headboard that creaked underneath the pressure of his grip.

It felt incredibly threatening to have him hover above you like this. Still, at the same time, you couldn't help but flush with heat as he looked down at you, that massive monster looking at you as if it was either lovestruck or famished, satisfied some inner demons of yours. That was, until your eyes fell below his waistline, seeing the red, angry erection that awaited you there, jutting out of the fur and merrily spilling precum as if it was lube.

With a groan, your ex reached down, gripping his massive cock awkwardly in his clawed hand. More cum gushed from it, and his hips pounded forward into the hold. There was no way you could take that, its girth unimaginable inside your small, human pussy.

Some of the hot spill touched your bare legs, your pants discarded on the floor where you had stood, and you jolted from the heat. It spread like wildfire, the thought of being filled with it almost sending you over the edge right then and there. The idea of your womb filled up with this hot, heavy seed was so enticing to you, although you didn't realize it had been a kink of yours. Something felt so off about your reactions, yet you couldn't determine what. You couldn't turn your eyes away from his cock, not even as his hand slid back, fingers spreading further to envelop the bulbous growth at the base. You swallowed thickly as you watched him squeeze and massage it, the discomfort clear in his movements, yet his tip just wouldn't stop spilling.

"Open your legs," he growled, and you shuddered as hesitation and willingness fought inside of you. It seemed the monster didn't have the same concerns as you had, willing to tear you open just to get his dick wet. And a part of you wanted to be the one wetting this dick, but this time, rationality won.

"N-No, it won't fit!" you squeaked, slamming your legs shut as hard as you could and moving backward until your shoulders hit the iron frame.

"It will," the werewolf snarled confidently. "You are more than ready, little mate."

"No! No, you will hurt me! I can't take it--"

The deep growl that clattered his teeth shut you up fast, and you turned your head away as he lowered his towards yours. His snout ran from your temple to the side of your throat, brushing away your shirt to expose more of the soft area between your shoulder and neck. When he licked over the spot, you felt a jolt of pleasure rake through you, a weird kind of connection developing with this monster.

"You are my mate. I long prepared you for this—longer than you realize. Spread you wide, marked you, let you smell my pheromones. You were always going to be mine, even when you didn't know it. You were ready before you found out about this, but tonight, you'll finally take your place as my mate. Mine."

Pushing his hips down, they connected with yours, and you temporarily forgot to clench your thighs, allowing the monster to rub his cock against your cunt. It was hot, wet, and ready, and with your soft whine, you signaled that you were, too.

With his free hand, he reached down, grabbing your left leg before pulling it to the side. With another sniff in the air, the monster let out a satisfied rumble before stretching out his pointer, slipping the claw under the fabric of your panty.

You gasped as the fabric tore at the smallest of tugs, easily giving way to your bare pussy, and you felt almost the same sense of shame as you had at your first time with your boyfriend. Shy, virginal. Perhaps because, to this werewolf, with his heightened senses, you were much more exposed than normally. He saw, smelled, and tasted everything so much more and did so with the greatest of pleasures.

"Mhm, tight," he commented as he looked down.

"Too tight," you whined, and he snorted.

"Perfect."

Pushing your leg back, he brought his own forward to secure it in place, and letting go of the headboard, he swept your other leg up to rest it above his. You hadn't even noticed the swift lifting of your hips he did, only feeling the softness of your blanket underneath them when he had already elevated you. He was surprisingly considered for a beast, but that wasn't what you should have been thinking about.

"Hold here," he instructed, guiding your hands over your head and to the iron rods that made up the headboard. With shivering hands, you grasped them and looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes not wavering from yours as he reached down to position himself.

"Good girl," he chuckled, and you couldn't help more heat spreading to your cheeks as you looked away first.

Cursing the wave of excitement, only measured against the fear of being penetrated by something so big, you whined softly as you felt his tip press against your entrance, your pussy gaping after this promise of finally getting the orgasm you had been denied before.

His snout leaned down, brushing against the side of your face reassuringly, and you heard that eery purr rumble in his chest again. With his own hands gripping the top of the headboard, you began to realize what you had allowed. You shifted on top of his lap, pulling yourself further away, but his hips followed, caging you between his body and the headboard.

"No, no wait!" you whimpered, panic spreading through you as your body prepared with all the adrenaline it could muster.

"No more waiting, little mate," he replied and his hips snapped forward.

A soundless scream ripped from your throat, your spine arching as the whole shaft of his cock invaded you, split you wide open, and tore your entrance as the bulb tried to follow into your depths.

"It's too big!" you complained, but your words were all but one big moan that only encouraged him more. There were no words to describe the feeling, a mixture of pain that turned into pleasure, that burned with even more pain before finally pressing all the right spots. And you were so full.

You felt your toes curl as you came, overwhelmed to the point of tears. Tears that were licked up by an eager tongue, wet and hot as it found your lips, pulling them apart to invade your mouth as well in an abhorrent kiss to fur-covered lips. His tongue was choking you, fucking your throat as his cock made little juts inside you, guiding you through your orgasm.

It didn't take him long to find a rhythm, his cock rutting into you madly by the time your high was broken, only mind-shattering sensitivity remaining. The headboard creaked and shook as he used it to drive himself forward and deeper into you. Soon, your wetness and his precum pooled beneath your cunt, and when he dragged his cock back, preparing for an especially deep push, the knot at the base slipped inside with it.

This time, you did scream, loud enough to make him jolt, his cock kissing even deeper as your bodies collided. The werewolf growled, pulling his knot free, and your shriek turned into a loud moan, your eyes rolling back. And so he did it again, fucking the mass into you again and again. You couldn't scream every time it spread you open with blunt force, but every time it did, you felt like losing your conscience.

Soon, he didn't even pull it out fully anymore, only moving inside of you. The knot grew, and you squirmed, uncomfortable with the mass spreading inside you. "No!" you whined, but it wasn't convincing when it sounded like a plead for more. You completely lost control as his cock bulged inside you, the beast growling as a hot spurt of cum splashed your inner walls.

And as if the floodgates opened, more spurts followed, spilling all inside you with no chance of escaping. You wished it didn't give you that ugly, fulfilling feeling of yet another orgasm, but you weren't spared. The werewolf groaned as you clenched around him, and you shook violently while more and more cum filled your womb. Just like he promised, he filled you up to the brim, expanding your insides as if he had already gotten you pregnant. You felt both nauseated from the feeling of fluids swapping around inside of you as well as so damn satisfied by feeling full.

Growls and howls escaped him, maw lowering back to settle between your shoulder and neck. You didn't notice him licking the spot over and over while you were still orgasming, as if this was the first time you had ever reached such a high. Groaning, you let your head fall back, arching your body against his, not realizing this had been your biggest mistake.

Pain worse than anything you had ever felt before shot through you, and your scream died down quickly as blood gushed from your shoulder, his teeth burying deeper as you tried to rip yourself away from the monster. He was groaning, lapping at the wounds his maw caused and his cock jerked inside you, causing all the fluids to sway.

You reached around his neck, driving your nails through his fur and into the taut skin on his back. You whimpered and pushed your body into his pleadingly, willing him to stop. It hurt so much, and yet you felt almost back at the edge of your orgasm, your hips unwillingly rutting against his, the knot moving back and forth around your entrance.

Only when you came again did the werewolf stop his bite, howling at the sight of you shuddering violently beneath him. And finally, he was satisfied, your blood dripping from his maw as he pumped his cock into you again a handful of times, making sure you were plugged up well.

"Mine," he rasped. "All mine. My mate, my bitch."

His hand fell to the swollen part of your stomach, and you groaned as he applied some pressure.

"And soon," he hummed, satisfied as you felt another pump of cum fill you up. "You'll bear my pups like a good mate. And I will fill you up again for more like you were always meant to be."

You barely registered the words, but the tears falling from your eyes were proof that you understood. Understood what you had allowed to happen, understood that you were indeed what he claimed you to be. His bitch, his little breeding pet. His.

"Good," he chuckled, and you let out a sob, realizing he could feel your giving up, the despair overwhelming you. But to him, it was only one thing: submission. He didn't need you to voice it to win a battle you couldn't have fought if you wanted to. And you were too helpless to make him think otherwise, too exhausted to argue, too full to deny what you were.

Tugging his knot back, you realized he was slowly able to pull it out, and you whined, feeling the first spurts of seed run down your legs. But he pushed it back the second he noticed it, humming as he seemed to enjoy your warmth.

"You're all mine now, you belong to me," he growled, victorious. But then a whine broke through, and you watched as the werewolf hunched over, one hand gripping his head. Concerned, you didn't know what to do, but when you tried to move, you felt his knot inside, and the pleasure that shot through you made you flush with heat and moan.

"God..." you heard him whine, and you looked up, not in the eyes of a beast, but those of your ex. You saw your own reflection in them, undone, bloody, and sexually satisfied beyond recognition. He whined again softly, but you didn't believe his words when he sobbed them quietly. Not with his knot pulsing inside you still, leaking seed everywhere.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

#Monstober 2024 #werewolf #yandere werewolf #yandere!werewolf #monster #yandere monster #yandere!monster #yandere #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #yandere headcanons #yandere drabbles #yandere oneshot

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hyperfocusthusly · 4 months ago

Text

Falling right into you

@bucktommyfluffebruary - Day 16 prompt: AU: Didn’t know they were dating

Notes: pre-relationship, getting to know each other, accidentally dating they’re just too oblivious to see it, minor injury | rated: G | words: 3.5k

All of my love to @leashybebes for listening to me yap about it and giving me the motivation to get on with it! Also shout out to @livelaughlou and @bybobbysbeard for saving me with their Die Hard knowledge when I made the frankly insane choice to include in this fic a film I’ve never seen 🫶🏻

[Read on Ao3]

———

It had been a long day. None of their calls had been anything too serious but it had been relentless. Every time Tommy had laid his head down on a bunk pillow he had been interrupted by the alarm. He felt heavy, right down to his bones. He had made it home, but between the sleep deprived grittiness of his vision and the way his hands felt like they were made of lead, manoeuvring his key into the lock was proving difficult. He stepped back and cursed, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear some of the fog building up in his brain.

As he opened them again the door clicked open, it took him a moment to register that someone was stood in the doorway. Someone was inside his house.

“Hey, long shift?”

Evan, Evan Buckley, his brain supplied. 118, Howie’s friend, he’s staying here because frat houses are not conducive to sleeping well enough to be an effective first responder. Tommy lets out a sigh, he could have used being alone tonight.

“Something like that.”

Evan steps back from the doorway and Tommy comes into the house, it smells great, Evan is always cooking something and, as Tommy has discovered, he’s pretty good at it. His stomach rumbles. He looks over at the pot on the stove, bubbling with a rich red sauce, thinks about the reheated leftovers he had set aside for dinner, if he even gets that far. A shower was the first priority. The ones at Harbour were fine for a quick rinse, but he longed for the quiet solitude of his own bathroom to truly wash away the day’s grime.

When Tommy re-emerges he feels a bit more human and a bit less grumpy about his decision to share his home with a practical stranger. He goes to the kitchen, it appears empty until Evan pops up from behind the kitchen island, making Tommy jump.

“Oh, sorry!” He is holding two plates, uses one to gesture towards the pot on the side. “Do you want some? I’ve made way too much for just me.” Tommy can’t deny that it looks and smells incredible, he thinks about declining but cooking is not his forte and he could do with some good food right now.

“Yeah, if you’re sure that’s okay?”

Buck grins, it lights up his whole face, makes his bright blue eyes sparkle.

“Of course, I’ll bring it over.”

They sit down at the table together, while they’re eating Evan tells him about the last shift he had, getting used to the routine and workings of the firehouse. Tommy nods along, it’s all familiar to him. He offers little pieces of advice as they go.

Once they’ve finished eating Tommy clears away the plates, he’s loading the dishwasher as Evan comes alongside him and starts running the tap into the sink to wash up. They clean up in companionable quiet. With all the jobs done Tommy heads towards the stairs, he turns to Evan and gives him a quick half wave.

“Goodnight, thanks for dinner.”

“No problem, glad you liked it.”

He gives Evan a parting smile and goes up to his room, settling quickly under the covers. He can hear the light sounds of Evan padding around the living room. He doesn’t mind it, the house feels more comfortable somehow, less empty. Maybe having a housemate isn’t such a bad thing after all.

——

Spring has started to show itself and Tommy has decided that today was the day to throw himself into a full house clean. With Evan’s help it had taken half the time it usually did. Finishing up in the kitchen, Tommy is on his knees bent around inside the corner cupboard wiping out the last of the dust.

“You doing okay in there?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out muffled. He shuffles out, his hair is sticking up everywhere. Buck offers his hand and helps Tommy up. He leans over and drops the cloth he had been using in the sink. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “Now I know how a TV dinner feels.”

The reference goes straight over Buck’s head, confusion spreading over his face.

“Oh come on, it’s Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it. It’s a Christmas film right?”

“A- a Christmas film?” The incredulous tone of Tommy’s voice makes Buck feel immediately like he’s got something fairly wrong.

“Does it not happen on Christmas Day?”

“Well yeah.” Tommy is gathering up the cleaning supplies from the counters, putting them back in their respective cupboards.

“But it’s not a Christmas film. It’s just a film that happens to occur at Christmas.”

Buck scrunches his brow.

“Riiight.”

“Okay, okay, come here.” Tommy takes Buck by the elbow and leads him into the living room. He goes to the DVD lined bookshelf and starts skimming through the titles.

“Sit down” he calls over his shoulder. “We’re watching it right now.”

Buck smiles to himself, it’s been a few weeks, but he finally feels like he’s starting to crack into Tommy’s shell.

“Yes sir.” He makes a mock salute and flops down onto the small couch.

Tommy rolls his eyes good naturedly, sits down next to him and starts the movie.

He can tell it’s coming, but the shot that kills the first hostage still makes Buck flinch. His leg bumps against Tommy’s but he is too involved in the movie to really notice. Tommy notices though, the soft press of Evan’s sweatpants and the warmth radiating from him is hard to ignore. He takes a deep breath and tries to concentrate on the TV.

It isn’t until the scene moves on that Buck realises his thigh is still touching Tommy’s. His gaze flickers down to where they’re pressed together, is it weird to stay like this? Should he move? The couch is small, not really designed to hold to grown men with any additional room and Tommy hasn’t made any indication that he wants Buck to move. He decides that it’s probably been too long anyway, doing it now would be more awkward than not, right?

——-

By the time Hans Gruber is falling backwards out of a shattered glass window Buck feels like he’s been on a rollercoaster.

The credits start up and he looks over at Tommy,

“Definitely not a Christmas film.”

Tommy stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing.

——-

The next day Tommy gets home from his shift and dumps his bag down by the island, comes into the kitchen to see what Evan was making for dinner. It had become a routine of theirs, not that Tommy minded. Evan was far better in the kitchen department than he was. He was starting to find that he enjoyed having someone to come home to.

He goes to the fridge, it had been hot that day and he was in desperate need of a cold drink.

“I’m sure that cooking without a shirt on is probably a hazard of some kind.”

Evan is fiddling with the scale settings, carefully measuring out ingredients before mixing them together in a saucepan.

“Oh yeah,” he looks down at himself quickly, as if he had forgotten about his bare torso. “I-I can go and get one if it bothers you?”

Tommy waves a hand around the open fridge door.

“No it’s fine, as long as you don’t burn yourself.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

Tommy chuckles,

“You of all people should know that nobody intends to burn anything.”

Buck laughs,

“That’s true.” He wavers for a moment, stirring the contents of the saucepan, like he can’t decide if he wants to say something.

Tommy watches him carefully.

“Hey did you know that Bruce Willis wasn’t the first choice to play John McClane?”

“No, I didn’t.” Buck face lights up with the knowledge that he’s giving Tommy something new.

“Yeah, he was like sixth in line, they offered it to bunch of people like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Burt Reynolds, Harrison Ford before they gave it to him. Apparently because he was in a show called Moonlighting at the time which was more like a drama comedy thing? They weren’t super sure he’d be a good fit for all the action.”

“Hard to imagine anyone else doing it now.”

Tommy watches Evan, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, radiating energy. “Wait, how did you know? I thought you said you’d never watched it before?”

“I hadn’t.” Evan grins and slips past him to get to the fridge. He tries not to think about the bare heat of Evan’s bicep as it brushes past his own. “I was listening to this podcast at work today.” He comes back past, waving the stick of celery he had retrieved as he talks. “While we were restocking the engine, it was really interesting - apparently McClane wasn’t meant to fall so far in the elevator scene, he was supposed to stop at the first vent but when they short the stunt man slipped and fell further than he was meant to.”

Tommy isn’t paying as much attention to Evan’s words as he should be. He is watching the muscles in Evan’s back move as he chops the vegetables on the counter in front of him. The up and down of his shoulder, the flex across his shoulder blade when he has to press down through something harder. Selfishly imagining what it would feel like to feel those muscles shift under his hands, to press a kiss to the juncture of Evan’s neck while he’s cooking, rambling about a film he had no interest in before yesterday. A film that he went and researched because he thought Tommy would like the extra information. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrubs a hand over his cheek. He needs to get a hold of himself. Evan is straight. He’s has never talked about anything other than women as far as Tommy can remember and even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he would be interested in Tommy anyway.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Evan turn to face him, the stream of consciousness coming to an abrupt halt. He realises that he hasn’t listened to a word Evan had said in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out I just-“ he not sure how to finish the sentence. ‘Sorry I wasn’t listening, I was too busy thinking about biting your traps’ didn’t feel at all appropriate.

“It’s okay.” Evan’s voice is smaller now, his shoulders have dropped, something unreadable on his face. “I talk to much, I don’t blame you for not-”

Tommy takes a step forward, he see the hurt in Evan’s eyes, cast down to the floor.

“It’s not that.” Before he knows what he’s doing he’s reached forward and wrapped his hand around Evan’s wrist. “I was just somewhere else, which is on me, not you. I want to hear about it.”

Evan chews on his lip, fingers curling up in his palm, up towards Tommy’s hand.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Evan looks up and meets Tommy’s reassuring gaze. He swallows, can feel something in the air like crackling static. He can feel Tommy’s hand curled around his arm, drawing him in. He feels himself being pulled into to Tommy’s space, he just wants to be closer and closer -

He’s so lost in the moment that the alarm going off on his phone makes him jump clean out of his skin. He fumbles with it on the side, the noise finally stopping. He looks back but the moment is gone, Tommy quickly lets go of his arm and mumbles something about going to set the table. Buck watches him leave the room. He looks down at his arm, the residual heat still clinging there. Tommy is a good looking guy, sure. Buck can appreciate an objectively attractive man, but he’s never considered it any further than that. He furrows his brow and runs his fingers along the inside of his arm. That hadn’t felt very objective.

——-

Buck is stood in the grocery store staring at the vegetables section. He glances down at the list. ‘potatoes’ is scrawled there in Tommy’s slanted handwriting. Buck sighs, Tommy had done the meal planning this week because Buck’s shifts had been long and exhausting, which was sweet of him. Normally it’s Buck’s job, one of the things they had agreed on when he moved in. Recently things had become a little looser, Tommy had started picking up the jobs than Buck was too exhausted to get to and in return Buck had done the cleaning allotted to Tommy this week. They were beginning to cross over more, it is starting to feel like living with a friend rather than emergency bunking with Chimney’s old colleague.

He fidgets, can still feel the ghost of Tommy’s fingers curling around his wrist, can still feel the desire to hold his in return. He remembers the charge in the air, the sudden, overwhelming desire to close the space between them to lean in and-

He is jarred out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat next to him. He looks across and realises that he has been holding up everyone else who needs to get theirs.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and shuffles out of the way. He’s probably overthinking it, considers that he might be the only person who thinks this much about type and variety of potatoes. He pulls out his phone anyway, flicks open Tommy’s contact. He’s hitting the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings and rings.

He closes his eyes and considers what kind of insane voice mail he is about to leave for the poor unsuspecting guy who kindly lets Buck live in his house when Tommy picks up.

“Hey Evan, everything okay?” He sounds out of breath.

“Oh uhm, yeah everything’s fine I was just-” Buck pauses, Tommy is still breathing heavily on the other side of the phone.

“Are you okay? I’m not interrupting anything?” He hears Tommy shift around.

“No, I was just working out, trying to squeeze something in before we get called out again.”

“Oh, okay.” Buck’s mind is suddenly so far away, images of Tommy working out, muscles pumping, sweat running down the thick column of his neck, damping his collarbones, rivulets making their way between his pecs and-

Not for the first time that day, Buck is pulled out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat.

“Evan? You still there?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was just calling because-” He swallows nervously, suddenly afraid that Tommy can somehow read his thoughts. He glances back at the potatoes, wonders how he ended up here.

“I am just at the grocery store,”

“You’re doing the shopping?”

“Yeah, I had some time and nobody really wants to go shopping on their way home from work so I just thought it would be easier if I did it.”

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” There is something unreadable in his voice, panic flutters through Buck’s chest, but before he can spiral out too far Tommy’s voice comes back into his ear.

“I appreciate it, you’re right, nobody does want to go shopping on their way home.”

Buck can’t help but smile.

“And as for the potatoes, I can’t say that I know specifically, usually I just grab whatever is closest.”

“What do you need them for?”

“I was just going to make wedges.”

“Okay, so probably like a Russet then?”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

“Yeah it’s got a good skin and it’s more starchy so the inside will be fluffier and-” He stops himself, hears Tommy chuckle.

“I’ve never known anyone to know so much about everything.”

“Well it’s important Thomas.” He hears the pout in his own voice. Tommy laughs again.

“It sounds like it is, I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when I get home.”

“You sure will.” The sound of the station alarm cuts through the call.

“Oh shoot, gotta go.”

“Yeah of course, be safe.” It slips out of Buck’s mouth so easily.

“I will, see you later.”

——-

A few day later Buck is lounging on the couch in a pair of boxers and slightly too long jumper, the only things he could be bothered to put on after his post shift shower, when he hears the handle of the front door.

He tenses. Tommy is on shift until 7pm so it shouldn’t be him and he isn’t expecting anyone else. The door rattles slightly, like the person on the other side is having trouble getting in. He can hear two different voices outside. His heart starts to pound in his chest. He glances around for his phone, curses when he realises that it’s upstairs on charge. Instead grabs the nearest thing to hand and raises it in front of him. He takes a deep breath and plants his feet ready for whatever is coming through the door.

Finally the handle swoops down and the door opens.

There’s a moment of silence.

“You planning to hit me with that?”

Buck lets out a huge breath and drops his arms.

“Tommy! What the hell, you are definitely not meant to be home yet!”

There’s a laugh from beside the front door,

“Wow Kinard, Hell of a home security system you have here.”

Buck looks at his chosen defensive object, a stainless steel water bottle as it turns out, maybe not his best choice.

“Hey now Luce, be nice to him, he was ready to defend my home.” He looks at Buck with a sparkle in his eye, he tilts his head as he takes in Buck’s chosen outfit. Lips quirked up in a smile. Buck suddenly feels self conscious, he tugs on the hem of the jumper.

“I wasn’t expecting you home yet.”

“It’s fine, I should have called. I wasn’t really expecting to be home yet either but-” He gestures up towards his head and Buck registers the thick white bandage covering a large portion of Tommy’s forehead, curving down around his temple. Buck all but drops the water bottle and rushes over. How could he not have seen that immediately?

“God, are you okay?” Without thinking he takes Tommy’s face in his hands, looks more closely at the bandages, counts the tiny cuts that are scattered across his cheek.

Tommy protests the attention a little, but makes no move to get out of Buck’s grip.

“I’m fine, Evan.” Buck furrows his brow and keeps cataloging Tommy’s injuries. A cut above his eyebrow catches Buck attention and he gently swipes back a loose curl to get a closer look at it.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is soft now, gentle. Buck realises that they’re only inches apart, he can feel Tommy’s warm breath ghosting across his cheek.

“Okay so I only have one question.” They both startle as if they’ve forgotten they aren’t alone.

“Why did I have to bring you back when you apparently have a perfectly good boyfriend at home? Does he not drive?”

Buck takes half a step back, his hand slips a little, but doesn’t break contact with Tommy.

“I- I can drive.” Tommy holds his breath, waits for the denial. It shouldn’t hurt so much he thinks, to hear it out loud. He squeezes his eyes shut.

He had let himself hope, ever since Evan had spent a whole 2 hour movie squashed into his side. Since they had started having dinner together, spending the time they weren’t on shifts closer and closer. He shouldn’t have let himself believe there might be a chance, waits for Evan to deny Lucy’s assumption of their relationship.

But he doesn’t.

“Right well, whatever is going on here-” he can hear the teasing in her tone, “I have to get back to work.” There’s a clatter of keys and the door clicks shut behind her. Tommy feels frozen in place, Evan’s hand is still cupped around his jaw. Tommy opens his eyes and Evan is just as close as he was when he closed them. There’s something in his eyes, bright and hopeful.

“You didn’t tell her you aren’t my boyfriend.”

“Well,” Evan’s tongue darts out nervously, “what if I wanted to be?”

“You want to be my boyfriend?”

Evan’s eyes soften impossibly at the hint of disbelief in Tommy’s voice.

“I do.”

“I want to be yours too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Buck inches closer, tilts his head up. It seems so obvious now, as their lips meet. Tommy’s hand is brushing up his arm, coming to rest at the juncture of his neck. The kiss is soft and gentle, makes Buck feel like he’s unraveling in the best way. So clear what the feeling was when he was obsessing over the places where their bodies touched on the couch. When he was working to make Tommy laugh, going after new information just to be able to give him something. Calling in the middle of Tommy’s shift just to make sure he was getting the right potatoes. Buck smiles against Tommy’s lips, they part minutely.

“Something funny?” Tommy’s voice is barely a whisper.

“We really have just been accidentally dating haven’t we?”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, Buck feels it where his hands have found themselves against Tommy’s back.

“Mmm, I do think that’s what has happened.”

Buck drops his head, slides into the crook of Tommy’s shoulder.

“I’ve never accidentally dated anyone before.”

“Well I’m more than happy to be your first.”

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added or removed);

@loulou-land @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @blitzynatural @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

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