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a-case-of-attachment · 3 months

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Okay, writing prompt if you're interested. LuciferXreader, making out in a pile of rubber ducks. It may be weird as hell, but also really cute and funny. AND!! Laughter is a healthy part of any relationship!

Yes I’m interested!!!!!!!!!

I hope this is what you’re after, it kind of got away from me and I spent way too long thinking about what all those little duckies could do.

Lucifer had a problem, one of his own making that was yellow and sometimes quacked, maybe barked, there was even ones that spoke backwards and in riddles. They came in all kinds of colours and did all sorts of things. He had a purple one that could teleport, a rainbow one that shot confetti out of its mouth when it was squeezed, he even had one that glowed in the dark and played lullaby’s. The point was that Lucifer had made a lot of rubber duckies over the years but he didn’t realise quite how many until he was looking for one specific duck.

“Where are you, you little piece of…” Lucifer grumbled, his words trailing off as he dived into another mountain of ducks, sending them tumbling down to join the rest that had spilled over the floor. He had been at this for a while now, sending his work room into chaos and all because Charlie had been telling Vaggie all about one she had seen him making when she was a child. She hadn’t asked him for it and Lucifer had honestly forgotten it existed until she had brought it up but she seemed so enamoured with it that Lucifer had decided there and then that he had to gift it to her as a reminder of happier times in her childhood. The only problem was that he couldn’t find the damned thing and he was quickly running out of patience.

“You alright there love?” Lucifers head jerks up and round at your amused voice, blinking dumbly at the sudden brightness of the room. Your leant against the door frame, eyebrows furrowed slightly but a teasing smile tugging up the corners of your mouth. You were a vision, a ray of sunshine through the grey cloud that had been steadily forming over him. “Yep! Everything’s fine. Hahaha. A oh kay. What erh, what are you doing here darling?” Lucifer laughed nervously, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at being found in such a state.

He had abandoned his hat and jacket ages ago, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his gloves somewhere within the sea of ducks. Lucifer had unbuttoned his collar at some point, his bow tie pulled loose and hanging around his neck like a sad flat little snake. His face must be flushed by now and his hair that was once neat and styled probably looked more like a birds nest now, stick up in every direction and clinging to his forehead.

“Charlie called me. Seems someone has been ignoring her calls and texts for the past couple of hours and she wanted me to check in and make sure they hadn’t gotten so involved in a project they forgot to eat again. Clearly she was right to worry.” You gave him a pointed look, clearly expecting an answer for his current predicament. Bitting his lip Lucifer let his eyes sweep across the carnage that was his work room and the vast amount of ducks he still had to get through. He needed help or he was never going to get through all these, not any time soon anyway and who better to help him than you? He always wanted to spend more time with you and this would keep you in close proximity for quite some time. It was a win win in his books and he was damn sure going to take full advantage of it.

Groaning Lucifer let his shoulders slump and looked back to you, finding you in the exact same position you had been in before though your eyes had softened slightly now, worry starting to creep in at the edges. “I’m looking for a duck,” he stated, nodding slightly after he had spoken like it was that simple of an answer. “Oh really? Never would have guessed.” Lucifer glared at your sarcastic reply, huffing loudly and crossing his arms over his chest in an overly obvious display of indignation that you both knew was just for show. The gentle laughter his behaviour got him sounded sweet, even as you rolled your eyes and pushed away from the doorframe. He always liked the sound of your laughter, like music that soothed his soul and made his heart ache all at once.

“Alright your majesty, are we looking for one in particular or is this a know it when a see it situation?” You raised an eyebrow at him in question as you sank down onto one of the few spots of clear floor. “It’s made of crystal, has a really cute teeny tiny crown on its head.” You hummed at Lucifers words, your attention now firmly on the ducks that surrounded you. “And when did you last see it?” Lucifer winced at your question, tugging at his already loose collar and refusing to make eye contact with you when you glance in his direction. “I don’t know, maybe a couple of centuries ago. Charlie was about five or six at the time.” You made a weird choked off noise when he said centuries, Lucifer catching a glimpse of your hand slipping on the pile of ducks you had been looking at and sending a couple more tumbling to join the ones that Lucifer was already half buried under.

He offered you an apologetic smile and hopefully his best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to soften any sort of regret you might be feeling at having sat down to help him. It must have worked because you sighed heavily before rolling your shoulders back and sitting up straighter. “It’s fine, we’ll find it and when we do you are sooo going to make it up to me with back rubs and kisses.” Lucifer agreed readily, nodding his head and promising you that and a thousand things more. “Right! We are going to do this one duck at a time, sorting as we go. We will have four separate piles, one pile for the ones that are just rubber ducks with a unique paint job and another for the ones that do something useful.” Lucifer opens his mouth to protest because all his duckies are useful but a quick glance from you has him closing it before he can even get a sound out. “There will also be a pile for ones that do pointless things and another for the ones that are just plain dangerous.”

“They are not dangerous!” Lucifer insisted, snatching up a random duck and squeezing it to prove his point. There was a loud click followed by sound of metal grinding together and Lucifer looked down in horror as the barrel of a pistol slid out of the ducks now open mouth. “Hahaha, how did that get there?” Huffing you held your hand out expectantly and Lucifer reluctantly handed the traitorous thing over, making sure the postal was safely back in place first. Without a word you leant over and pushed a section of the ducks out of the way, clearing a patch on floor in front of you. The gun toting duck was place down gently, looking way too sweet and innocent for what it hid within.

You picked up one from next to you and held it out towards Lucifer. “What does this one do?” He squinted at the thing, turning his head slightly to the side as he tried to remember what this one did. It was yellow like most of them except this one had a red rimed beak that made it look like it had lipstick on. “Lipstick!” Lucifer shouted out triumphantly, his sudden outburst causing you to startle. “It’s lipstick, retro rouge if I’m not mistaken.” You turned the duck toward you, tilting your head quizzically as you squeezed at its sides. It’s beak parted as a stick of bright red lipstick emerged. “Huh,” you said, loosening your grip on the duck so the lipstick went back in before placing it on the floor a few inches away from the other duck. You picked up another, this one yellow with black spots and held it out towards him. “What about this one?”

This goes in for hours, one duck after another and though it would normally be a rather tedious Lucifer is having fun. Some of his duck creations really are bizarre, like the one that changes colour depending on the time of day in Hawaii or the one that screams whenever someone says pineapple. There are some good ones though, like the one that generates a personal forcefield that’s lasts up to an hour when placed on your head or the one that cleans your bath after you’ve used it. The useful pile was a lot smaller than the others though, the useless ones needing a whole corner of the room to themselves. You had even found one that said ‘I’m quackers about you’ in a squeaky voice when squeezed, a little heart shaped box of chocolates with Lucifers hat emblazoned on the front held between its wings.

Lucifer had refused to hand that one over, especially when he realised you intended to put it in the useless pile. A had sat there, cooing at the thing and stroking its head whilst you glared at him. So preoccupied with the duck Lucifer didn’t have time to prepare himself as you suddenly lunged across the space, hands grabbing for the sweet little ducky. The two of you had spent far too long rolling around the floor and tussling for the duck until finally you came to a stop, sprawled across Lucifer and the both of you breathing heavily. You were close, head hovering above his as you stared into one another’s eyes. All Lucifer would need to do is tip his head back and then he would be able to kiss you, one of his favourite things to do these days. His eyes dropped to your lips as your tongue snuck out to wet them, your teeth nipping at your bottom lip enticingly. Lucifer sucked in a deep breath, his hand flexing on your waist where it had ended up in your little play fight. Your head lowered slightly, eyes darting down to his lips then back to his eyes as if asking permission that you really didn’t need. From down by his hip there came a loud quack followed by ‘I’m quackers about you’ then another quack effectively bringing a sudden end to the tension growing between the two of you.

The two of you dissolved into laughter, Lucifer wrapping his arms around your middle as you buried your face in his neck. You lead there for a while, laughing softly until that trailed off and the two of you when just lead there, holding one another and surrounded by ducks. It had been nice if a little weird but Lucifer wasn’t complaining. “It’s true you know,” he said softly, not wanting to ruin the moment but his words had you shifting, pushing yourself up slightly so you could look down at him with confusion. “What is?” Your voice was just as soft as you spoke, the hushed tone adding to the intimacy of the moment. Sighing Lucifer reached up, cupping your check and rubbing his thumb gently across it. “I really and quackers about you,” he deadpanned.

The stunned silence that hangs between you goes on a lot longer than Lucifer thought it would and despite how hard he tries he can’t help the large smile that spreads across his face or the laugher that comes bubbling out. Groaning loudly you finished pushing yourself up into a sitting position, shoving Lucifer back down when he tried to follow. “You’re terrible,”you mumble, shifting back over slightly to avoid nocking into a stack of ducks. Lucifers still chucking when he sits back up, effortlessly catching the rubber duck you half heartedly throw at him. “Mmmm, and yet you still love me.” Lucifer wiggled an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly to emphasise the ridiculousness of the gesture. This time it was you who couldn’t help but smile, huffing in amusement and shaking your head at him. “Yeah, I do.” Lucifer beamed like the cat who go the cream at your words, always feeling like his heart could take flight every time you told him you loved him. Truly a bizarre phenomenon that would need much more research done into it, requiring you to tell him often and in multiple ways how you felt about him. “Now come on, this bloody duck isn’t going to find its self.” Lucifer took the duck you held out to him, a hot pink one with a flame branded on its chest, and quickly lent forward to place a kiss on the back of your hand before he started telling you all about the duck and how it could be set on fire and wouldn’t melt.

That had been a good few hours ago though and night had settled heavy over the city since then. Over half the room had been cleared now, Lucifer having opened a portal and dumped all the colourful, boringly normal ducks onto a sleeping radio demon to create some extra space for you both. There was still no sign of the duck he was after though and the both of you were clearly tired, the process having slowed down considerably in the last half an hour or so. He’s beginning to think it’s a lost cause, the duck long since lost or broken.

You yawn loudly, arms stretching out above you before you fall back into the heap of ducks behind you. The groan you make sounds almost painful as you wiggle in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable amongst the ducks. Your eyes close, hands disappearing into the sea of yellow above you. Despite how horribly uncomfortable it must be you look content and Lucifer wants nothing more in that moment than to crawl over there and join you, curling up against your side and resting his head on your chest so you can both get some much needed sleep. As much as he wanted to give into temptation Lucifer was determined to find the duck for Charlie, fixated on giving her that little moment of happiness and wonder that had stayed with her since childhood. That didn’t mean you had to suffer with him though.

“I think it’s time you were getting to bed darling, I can finish up in here.” Your eyes open slightly at his words, brows furrowed and your smile slipping into a frown. “Lucifer.” There was an odd tone to your voice, one that he probably should have paid more attention to but Lucifer assumed he knew what you were going to say so he kept on talking, turning away from you to continue looking through the ducks as he did so. “I know. I should be trying to get some sleep as well but you know I won’t be able to, (Lucifer), not till I’ve found this duck anyway and I really just want to surprise Charlie with it. She seemed so happy when she was talking to Vaggie about it and I just wanted to, (LUCIFER!)” Your loud cry of his name had Lucifer jumping, dropping the duck he had been holding to the floor with a loud splat as it oozed out like a marshmallow melting in the sun.

Laughing nervously Lucifer turns back to you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue but it quickly disappears when he sees what you’re holding. You’ve sat up, eyes fixed on your hand that you’re holding out towards him. In your palm sits a crystal duck, a small black crown sat atop its head styled similarly to Charlie’s own. Lucifer sucked in a breath, reaching out to take the thing from you with trembling fingers. He can’t believe you had found it, just when he was starting to lose hope. You truly must be heaven sent.

Without warning Lucifer lunged at you, flinging his arms around your neck and sending you sprawling back into the ducks with a yelp. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Lucifer said between peppering your face with kisses. “Lucifer,” you laugh, turning your head to the side and giving him access to your neck. He places a few more quick pecks along your neck and the top of your shoulder before placing one final one on your lips.

“She’s going to be so surprised,” Lucifer beamed, pushing himself back up and turning towards the door, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at the crystal duck clutched in his hand. He didn’t get more than two steps towards the door before fingers wrapped around his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. Frowning Lucifer looked back over his shoulder at you, finding you looking at him just as confused as he was you. “Where are you going?” Lucifer blinked down at you dumbly because surely that was obvious? “To give Charlie the duck?” It came out slow and sounding more like a question, Lucifer even holding up the duck in case you had forgotten.

Your confusion smoothed out into understanding, a small smile curling up the corner of your lips. “Lucifer,” you said almost teasingly, tugging gently on his wrist until he turned to face you fully. “It’s the middle of the night love. She’s going to be asleep, and even if she isn’t she’s probably going to be doing something she doesn’t want her dad walking in on.” You look at him pointedly, waiting for your words to sink in. “Oh…ohhhh,” lucifers eyes went wide, looking down at the little duck in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

You chuckle gently, tugging on his arm and causing him to take a step towards you. “So why don’t you,” you plucked the duck from his hand, leaning back to place it on top of the coffee table before turning back to him and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “come back here and finish giving me my reward hum?” You tugged him forward and down, Lucifer’s knees hitting the floor on either side of your waist with a dull thud. You used your hold on his wrists to lift his hands and place them on your shoulders before gripping his waist and pulling him down and closer until he was sat in your lap. Lucifer blushed, licking at his lips and swallowing slightly. “I eh, I can do that.” You hummed at his words, lifting one hand to cup his cheek and guiding his lips down to yours.

The first few kisses were soft and slow, Lucifer humming gently at the addictive feel of your lips moving against his. He sank into you, getting more comfortable on your lap and letting his arms drape over your shoulders. The two of you stayed like that for a few long minutes, Lucifer content to spend hours just like that but it seemed you had other ideas. Pulling back you nipped gently at his lip, Lucifer letting out a little whimper at the sudden sting. Resting your forehead against his you slid both your hands up his back, pressing him as close to you as he could get. “Hold on tight,” you mumbled, placing a kiss against his lips.

Lucifer barely had time to register what you had said before you were moving, effortlessly tipping him to the side and rolling him onto his back. He landed within the ducks with a dull thud, several of the stupid things tumbling down to land on his face. Your laughter was sweet as you helped remove the offending ducks off his face, leaving the ones that had fallen around his head and shoulders. “There you are handsome,” you smile as you remove the last one from his head, clearly delighting in the bush your words get you. “Your erh, looking rather radiant as well.” Lucifer cringes at his own awkward attempts at flirting, refusing to look at you because of how awfully that was. You would think he would have gotten better at this sort of thing over the centuries but there was something about you that just left him flustered and unable to say what he means when in your company. When you’re not around he can wax poetry about how your smile lights up the world like a sunbeam or how your eyes sparkle like the stars, but now? With you looking down at him like he’s your whole universe? Not happening.

You shift to the side slightly, slotting one of your legs between his and pressing up against him. “Only when you’re the one looking,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, using his startled gasp as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Lucifer moans softly, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you in closer. There’s a duck digging into his back and the sound of muffled quacking coming from somewhere above him as their movements caused another wave of ducks to fall down in them. It was ridiculous, kissing in a pile of ducks that were threatening to swallow the two of you up but Lucifer found he didn’t really care, especially when your tongue swiped across his lips, seeking permission that he readily gave. This here, this was the closest to heaven he had felt in eons and he was content to stay in this moment for eternity. Well at least till Charlie woke up anyway.

#answered asks #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #reader insert #you #gn reader #gender neutral reader #rubber duckies #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x gn reader #lucifer magne x gn reader #lucifer x gn reader

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soraphic · 5 months

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you're gripping peter so hard you feel woozy,the contracting muscles of his biceps rippling under your palms as you wailed -- "oh,god! pete!"

one of your legs was secured against his pistoning hip,his spidey-strength had him holding your entire body weight with one arm,tilting you slightly upwards in a way that had him fucking you so deeply you felt him in your stomach.

his other was at your waist,his flat palm nearly the size of your torso,using it to pull and twist you at an angle that satisfied you both. you often caught yourself wondering whether his sheer size,in more ways than one, was an effect of the bite or if he was just blessed by birth.

"such a pretty girl." he cooed,bringing a hand to run through your hair,lightly massaging your scalp in a way that had you purring.

he could tell by the glint in your eyes accompanied by the excessive gnawing at your lip,you needed more. he wanted you speechless. so,he lowered your ass to the bed,slightly tugging your body forward as he manoeuvred your legs securely over his shoulders,your thighs pressed tightly to his chest while he drilled into you.

the new position had you reeling,head thrashing against the pillows and a loud screech being ripped from you - "peter!"

"i know,baby,i know," wet kisses were placed against your ankle,his legs flexing as he used the muscle he had to pound into you.

there was a sudden flash of lights outside the window,blue and red pouring over the both of you,accompanied by the wail of sirens flooding the room. your head snapped to peter,knowing what that meant but still somewhat hopeful.

peter was biting down on his bottom lip,one hand splayed across your stomach as he concentrated on getting you where he needed you. he was pushing as deep as he possibly could,applying pressure to where he could feel himself slipping inside you in the hopes it would have you falling apart quicker.

there was a vibration on the nightstand,both of you audibly groaning at the contact name 'yuri watanabe',though yours ended in more of a moan.

"i need you to cum for me,baby,can you do that?" he leaned back against his heels,hitting you from an entirely different angle that had you crying out,red nails coming to scratch at his abs.

"hm?" he punctuated it with a particularly forceful thrust.

"yes! for you!" your eyes were screwed shut,mouth agape and ear splitting mewls leaving you.

"'atta girl." his thumb jutted out to rub circles at your clit,jaw clenched in deep focus.

the sounds of chaos outside were growing more prevalent,peters sense desperately dragging him to your window while he fought it off. what kind of a hero would he be if he left his girl high-and-dry to go stop some amateur bank robbery?

his movements against your clit sped up,switching from rubbing soft circles to expertly flicking the bud the way he knew you liked. he had you coming shortly after,clenching around him and almost deafening him with your squeals.

you focused on catching your breath,eyes heavy-lidded and basking in the aftermath of your orgasm. they opened to the sight of your boyfriend,mask in hand and kitted up,perched over your window sill. "wait! but- pete,you didn't finish?"

his head snapped to his phone vibrating once again on the dresser,which felt a lot more obnoxious this time,although he was thankful for the reminder. he had almost forgotten it.

he was over to your side of the room in less than 3 steps,pressing a kiss to your forehead while he snagged his phone. "i'll be just fine,baby,don't worry about it."

in a flash he was repositioned at the window once again,giving you one glance and a cheeky smile before pulling his mask over his face and diving out into the city.

the soft thwips of his web shooters grew quieter,more distant,as you eventually settled into bed,thinking of how you would repay him when he got back.

#insomniac spider man #insomniac games #peter parker blurb #tasm peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #marvel mcu #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm spiderman #𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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sorrowfulrosebud · 10 months

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𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 ℌ𝔬𝔟𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔶

༺ 𝕱𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋 ༻

❦ Hobie is 10000% the boyfriend who kisses the insides of your wrist. Imagine smushing his cheeks together to tease him and he turns the tables by pressing gentle kisses to each pulse point

❦ Loves to send you selfies of the villains he beats up with goofy captions and him posing

❦ Introduces you to his friends at the pub, proudly showing you off

❦ Then proceeds to drunkenly ramble to said friends, arm tight around your shoulder with a protective hand over your drink

❦ Is an incredible cook when he wants to make something special for you, but otherwise makes low effort meals

❦ He loves to tickle your sides when he’s behind you. He comes over to you from behind under the guise of wanting a cuddle, but a devilish grin appears as he presses his long fingers into your sides, making you ugly chortle and shove him away

❦ Hobie would 10000% do the spiderman kiss with you

❦ Protective as FUCK but doesn't show it outwardly. Like, you’ll be walking down the street and some guy would cat call you, but Hobie doesn’t say anything. His grip on your shoulder gets tighter, and it’s not till he comes back past midnight with a bloodied lip do you feel pride flush your chest

❦ He lets you sit on his lap in bed as you do his eyeliner for his upcoming show. Gentle fingers rub against your hip as he looks at you with hooded eyes, letting you smudge his eyeliner. He looks at you with a charming grin, “thanks babe,” he’d say as he kisses you deeply

❦ Hobie lets you pick his nail polish colour and watches you delicately apply it to his nails. He thinks it's adorable when your tongue sticks out in concentration or when you nibble on your lip

❦ He invites the rest of the spidey squad to come to his dimension to play cards and other games, having you sat in his lap the entire time. If you’re playing poker or something, he nudges you in an attempt to silently communicate what he should pick. He gives you the occasional discreet kiss as Gwen cackles at Pav winning go fish over Miles

❦ Soft, classical music is NOT his style at all, so don't expect him to start playing Ed Sheeran on a regular guitar. If you struggle to fall asleep, he sets you on his tummy and makes patterns on your back based on the way his fingers would position themselves on his guitar

❦ He loves causing chaos with you, be it spray painting a Winston Churchill poster or statue of another bigot, or blasting his guitar near MPs houses, he loves it when you’re there, smiling happily with him

❦ DEFINITELY THE BF TO SMACK YOUR ASS. I SAID WHAT I SAID

❦ Doesn't have a set nickname for you, usually a play on your name or “luv”

❦ The type of bf who gets really invested in his S/O’s drama. Like you could be sat sipping tea, rambling about how this bitch tried to make you feel like shit and he’s just sat proudly like “oh yah? Then what’d you do babe?” With the dopiest ass look on his face

❦ Really stinking cute when drunk. Full on ambling into his flat, making you take care of him. Loves when you clean his piercings and rub off his eyeliner

❦ “Mf, thanks babe. Eyeliner makin’ it difficult to go to sleep,” he mumbles as you prop him upright on the bed. You roll your eyes fondly as you clean him up and start cleaning his piercings

❦ Thinks it's funny as fuck to make you smell his crust jacket. Punks are known to have jackets and not wash them to make them look as grunge as possible and Hobie is no different (bc fuck consistency)

༺𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙༻

ఌ Is really stand-offish at the start of your relationship. His dislike for labels put a strain on your relationship; he would kiss you and make you feel loved, and then rip your heart out by saying you’re just friends to his pub mates

ఌ Struggles to fully take things seriously. You could be arguing over something and Hobie would just smirk, making the anger boil over. He doesn’t do it to emasculate or intimidate you, he just thinks it’s cute when you’re so passionate. This has definitely caused some worse arguments and either of you storming out

ఌ Definitely struggles with time and dates. If you arrange a date and he’s Spider-Punkin’ that day, be prepared to walk home and cry after waiting so long that the owners of the restaurant have to gently nudge you away

ఌ It can be seen as angsty or horny, but if you’re trying to start a fight or fussing over him when he’s tired, he’s not above shooting his web at your mouth to shut you up

ఌ Is low-key petrified every time he can’t get hold of you if you’re apart. He doesn’t want your death to become another canon event for him, so days where his anxiety manifest into something way deeper, he keeps you either at arms length or doesn’t let you out of his sight

ఌ Can actually be really mean in arguments if pushed far enough. Man is all for communication, but days where his mental health is struggling are usually days where his temper is short. He does his best to communicate to you that he’s not doing great but is physically fine and just needs some time, but if you keep pushing then he knows where to hit deep. (This is so so incredibly rare though)

ఌ Unintentionally gives you the silent treatment after an argument. If you had a really bad fight and he is still trying to cool off, he is in no mood to talk to anyone. I may be projecting, but I imagine Hobie is the type of person to need to be completely left alone to cool off and gets really upset again if someone tries to ask. He always wants to answer your text but sometimes forgets

ఌ Doesn’t let on but sometimes he has really bad nightmares from his role as protector of London. Sometimes it’s you getting hurt and sometimes it’s him. Either way, he wakes up in cold sweats and immediately feels for you before sighing in relief.

“Hi sweetheart, are you alright? You kept making noises in your sleep,” you murmur to him. Hobie’s eyes fluttered slightly before sinking back under the duvet with a sigh.

“Ughhhh, yeah. ‘M fine babe, jus’ a stupid bad dream,” he mutters, throwing his arm around your waist and nuzzling into your chest. Your arm wrapped around his lean tummy and rubbed soft circles to the skin.

“D’you wanna talk about it hun? I’m here for you,” you whisper softly into his ear. Hobie thought for a minute before shaking his head.

“No thanks. Not now. Jus’ lemme hold ya,” he grunts sleepily. Your fingers found a steady rhythm against his back as you heard him sigh deeply into your neck.

“I love you so much Hobes. I’m always gonna be right here, waiting for you,” you promise him. Slender fingers intertwined with yours, the slight tremble being the only movement in your dark shared bedroom. Tender but firm kisses were placed along your neck in silent thanks as the two of you slip back into dreamless slumber.

༺𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙༻

༒ Is SUPER easy to turn on. The softest of praises is enough to turn his cock rock hard, but is also a major horn dog for being degraded 🤭🤭

༒ Gets SUPER horny when he catches you wearing his jewellery and jackets. He WILL fuck you right then and there

༒ He’s more of a grunter than a moaner, unless he’s quite deep in subspace. He’s definitely not above whimpering

༒ Hobie loves to send you videos of him wanking off, angled so you can see every lustful touch and hear every choked gasp

༒ A very versatile man. Doesn’t mind whether he’s domming or subbing, or even if there’s no dynamic

༒ Some of Hobie’s biggest kinks: edging, slight overstim, light impact play, light sensory deprivation and wax play

༒ If you’re female or someone without a peeny weeny, he would definitely take some good old cock up the ass <3 the male G spot is up there for a reason!

༒ He can often get lost in pleasure if he’s penetrating you, making his thighs shake as sweat drops and he’s biting into your shoulder like a man starved

༒ Definitely skilled with his fingers 😝😝 loves to finger you until you’re shaking and crying from overstim

༒ Is such a huge brat you wouldn’t believe 🤭🤭 he doesn’t deliberately say things to rile you up, but rather small displays. Rubbing his hands up your sides, murmuring soft teasings into your ears, lingering kisses right before a mission so you end up beating a villain with fire burning in your crotch

I absolutely adore this man, send asks and thots 🤭

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #Hobie x reader angst #hobie x reader fluff #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

Hi, love your works.

Could I request a Daniel x sunshine where, Daniel is away at a race, and because Sunshine was sick so she isn’t there, and she had to go to the hospital, and Daniel is having a panic attack cuz he can’t be with her, so he sends him mom to be with her, and when he seees sunshine again, he cries and tells her how much he loves her.

Take care!

thank you! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

Daniel didn’t like being away from you on a good day, let alone when he knew you were sick and bedridden.

It happened during the weekend between two races. You were both back in Monaco, just enjoying the few moments you could share before getting wrapped up in the chaos of the world of Formula One once again. It had started with just you feeling a bit rough the morning after the race, though you assumed it was just the night out that was hitting you hard with the jet lag.

But when you reached your apartment in Monaco, you had only gotten worse and the chesty cough wasn’t reassuring Daniel one bit. He had been practically coddling you, running around like a madman trying to do anything to make you feel better. Yet, none of it was working, and by Thursday, you were making an appointment to see the doctor.

It was a chest infection, which all in all should have not been too bad after a round of antibiotics for five days. However, the constant travelling, jet lag and general fatigue meant the infection hit you a lot harder than it should have. And it meant you would have to miss the next race, despite your desire to go.

It had taken a phone call from Christian himself to get you to stay in Monaco rather than fly out.

Daniel hated the fact he had to leave. He wanted to put his middle finger to the rest of the world and just stay with you until he knew you were better. But he couldn’t, because he had a job to do—one which he signed a contract for—and no matter how much he wanted to be with you, he needed to fly out of the country to race the next weekend.

It was just after one of the free practice sessions when he got the phone call. When you moved to Monaco with him, you had changed your emergency contact details to be him rather than your parents back home. It would make more sense seeing as he was in the same country as you, most of the time at least.

He had almost collapsed to the ground when the voice on the other side of the phone told him they were from the hospital. A million different thoughts—bad, bad thoughts—racing through his head at what could have happened to you. He was honestly surprised he didn’t throw up.

It turns out you had passed out. You were severely dehydrated and it hadn’t helped your case. You were fine, you would be fine. The doctors just wanted to keep you in overnight for observation before they released you.

Daniel wanted to hop on the next flight back and be with you, but he couldn’t and it killed him. So, he did the next best thing. He flew his mother out to be with you, just until he could be there too.

The rest of the race weekend had been spent just thinking about you. Every minute passing was another minute closer to being to you. Every time he got in the car, he knew he needed to be careful because he wanted to get back to you as soon as he could.

The rest of the team and the world knew something was wrong when the Sunday ended with Daniel in P7. He could have done better, so much better. He had the pace and the speed but he was far too distracted. And the second he had wrapped up his team briefings and media duties, he was on the first plane back to you.

His mother had messaged that she was out grocery shopping, so she wasn’t there when he arrived at your shared apartment. His bags were dumped somewhere near the door as he made his way further into the flat.

“Sunshine?”

His chest tightened with worry when he received no reply. You weren’t in the living room or the kitchen, and he couldn’t hear the shower running in the bathroom. His steps were speeding up by the time he made it to your bedroom, his lungs hardly able to breathe in any air until—

You were asleep.

Curled up under the duvet, he could only see your head laid across the pillow, sound asleep and oblivious to the world around you. He made his way into the bedroom, his tears welling with an overwhelming amount of emotions as he perched on the edge of the bed beside you.

He couldn’t help himself as he reached out to push some hair out of your face, the small movement enough to make you stir in your sleep. It took a few seconds before you blinked your eyes open, your movements slow and lethargic as your brain took a few moments before you noticed the boy beside you.

“Danny?”

He felt his throat tighten. “Hey, Sunshine.”

You instantly leaned into his touch, basking in his presence as you moved to sit up but he quickly stopped you, pushing you back down.

“You gotta rest, baby,” he murmured, his eyes holding his worry and concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Shit,” you replied bluntly before giving him a small smile. “How did the race go?”

Daniel just shrugged it off. “Could’ve gone better, guess I was missing my good luck charm.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, feeling as though somebody was clenching his heart in a tight fist and he couldn’t fight the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

“Danny,” you whispered in a soft voice, this time not letting the boy stop you as you sat up. You reached for his face, wiping away his tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I just really missed you,” he whispered, his laugh a little strained and wet. “I really fucking missed you, Sunshine.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered back as you opened your arms, and Daniel wasted no time. But the last thing he wanted was to crush you so he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap as you wound your limbs around him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

You laughed lightly. “Sounds like you have some attachment issues.”

“With you, yeah,” he said as his arms tightened around you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder and just enjoying the feeling of being in his arms after almost a week of nothing.

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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cyberneticfallout · 12 days

Text

Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

#hope you enjoy my gulper description lmao #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #smoothie and the ghoul

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bakerstreethound · 6 days

Text

Heavy is the Burden

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x gender-neutral reader

Warnings: comfort, soft Sherlock, gentleness, pure fluff, mentions of anxiety, loneliness, panic, and sadness

Summary: After a long day of errands and classes, you finally return home seeking solace and basking in the warmth of Sherlock.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 765

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I know I haven't been as active writing fic as I have in the past year, but inspiration struck me a few days ago and I managed to write a little comfort story. I hope you enjoy! My summer classes start up in a few days so I hope to find time to write even then for my beloved detective. Graphic by @firefly-graphics. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Time trudges on, even when you open the door to your flat, closing the door softly, the grocery bags and your backpack hanging off of you adding to the weight of your exhaustion.

You don’t want to think about the endless list of words going through your mind, determined to overload your evening and the next before they have begun. Such is the toll of an anxious mind, always on edge waiting for something to happen, sending you into a panic.

It’s a burden you carry the push and pull thriving off chaos, with you addicted as it holds you in your clutches, your form of motivation. The notion of rest exhausts you as you set the grocery bags on the counter and your backpack on a kitchen chair.

Methodically, with practiced ease, you assemble the groceries out of the bags and put them away by memory, your brain on autopilot.

Everything is in its place, your heart calms its rapid beats, and you take a deep breath. The same goes with your backpack as you take it to your bedroom, place your laptop on your desk, and hang the bag over the chair.

You take another breath, inhaling the fading scent of Sherlock - leather, musk, and faint cigarette ash. Your heart twinges at the thought of him, how he holds you, caresses you. It’d been a while since you had seen him between you working late and him solving cases with John.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve properly relaxed without some garish nightmare plaguing your thoughts or worrying about the best way to structure your days.

These days your mind is both your greatest asset and enemy, causing you more than enough heartbreak for a lifetime. You take another breath and change your clothes into something more comfortable, a clean but beloved graphic tee paired with soft lounge shorts and one of the many hoodies Sherlock liked to steal and wear from you.

You inhaled, catching his scent again, only this time your eyes well with tears, the full brunt of the week hitting you in tandem.

Despite your apprehensions, your tears fall and you cocoon yourself in a blanket wishing it were a hug instead. Your eyes close and you find yourself drifting and you let the burden slip away, falling into that lovely abyss of sleep.

A soft gentle warmth soon encompasses you and you draw to it, a moth to a flame, nuzzling into a familiar chest, the scent of familiarity, of home enveloping you.

“I’m here, I’m home,” he murmurs into your ear unsure if you’re completely awake, but you adore it, adore him all the same.

You shift against him, nuzzling deeper into him and he chuckles, pulling you closer so you can hear the steady thrumming of his heart, the one he told you on quiet darkened nights that it belongs to you.

“You’re back, you came back!” You mutter softly, burying your nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply, your warm cocoon of a blanket slipping from your shoulders. You don’t care for he’d returned to you and you want to shower him in kisses.

He chuckles, stroking your back, sending shivers down your spine and you press up closer to him, basking in the simple warmth of him, not having to speak a word. He knows the mood you’re in, anxious yet somber, sad but bone-weary sadness that’s embedded deep in your body, part of your soul.

“Shall I warm us up some soup?” he asks, his fingers threading through your hair gently, making you melt impossibly more.

You yawn at the thought of warm soup, and the crunch of toasted bread. “Only if I make us grilled cheese to go with it.”

“That sounds wonderful.” He smiles, the corner of his lip twitching a fraction almost revealing the full shy boyish grin you’ve come to adore, the one reserved for you.

Carefully, he helps you to your feet ensuring you are not dizzy before taking your hand and leading you back to the kitchen. Suddenly you are grateful you grabbed extra bread and cheese at the store.

You fight off a smile as you watch Sherlock scurry around the kitchen, and you toss your eyes skyward thanking quietly the force of nature bringing the both of you together.

You do not know what you would do without him, John, and Mrs. Hudson in your life.

You wipe away a stray tear, wrapping around behind him for a hug, your hands resting along his waist. Dinner can wait ten minutes more.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #my writing #my alleyway

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mama-qwerty · 3 months

Text

Corruption

Dreams. He'd been having those dreams again. They come and go, sometimes staying for longer than he'd like. But they always ended in images of pain and destruction.

Knuckles couldn't understand why he was having them, or where they were coming from. The Master Emerald was safe. There'd been no odd surges in chaos energy. No outside threats that he could see or feel. The Emerald itself didn't seem to be too upset or anxious—as anxious as a giant rock could be—but it could sometimes sense odd vibrations in chaos or time which indicated something wrong.

Knuckles had felt none of this. It was as if the strange feelings were coming from himself.

But that was ridiculous. His only purpose in life was to protect the Master Emerald. If there was no threat to the Emerald, then everything was good, right?

Still, the dreams persisted.

He was getting worried. So worried, in fact, that he stood before his communicator, arguing with himself about whether or not to contact his friends. But what was he supposed to tell them? "I feel like there's something wrong, but the Emerald doesn't and I think it's all in my head because of these weird dreams I've been having"?

Gaia, he'd never hear the end of it from Sonic.

But the dreams wouldn't go away. And they were getting worse. Every day he woke in a sweat, hands shaking and heart pounding. But he couldn't remember the details. Just the feeling.

Pain.

Fear.

Confusion.

Destruction.

And one other.

Guilt.

He wasn't sure why. But that one made his stomach churn and feel as though it were full of lead.

He'd been losing time. One moment he'd be standing before the Emerald in the warm morning sun, and the next he'd be on his back in the forest, surrounded by broken trees as the evening approached. He couldn't remember anything between those moments.

He was scared.

He wouldn't admit it, would never say it outright or even verbalize it to himself. But he was. Something was happening to him, and he didn't know what. Didn't know why. But Tails might. He may be able to find out.

So Knuckles stood before his communicator. He'd only used it a handful of times, and Tails had made it so all Knuckles had to do was push a button to sound the alarm at the fox's workshop. His friends would come running as fast as they could to Angel Island, to help deal with whatever threat Knuckles had found himself needing assistance with.

But the echidna hesitated. What was the threat? The danger? He only had a vague feeling. Nothing concrete. But his fear was enough to make him move forward, reaching with a shaky hand toward the small device.

Right before his hand touched the big red button, a feeling came over him. His hand, his whole body shook, and his heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.

He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. A jolt of fear and shock and anxiety overcame him, and he watched as his outstretched arm changed. It was like watching something move through water—the angles all wrong and wavy. He uttered a surprised "What?" as the first bolt of pain ripped through him. He cried out, pulling his arm back as he watched in horror as the fur he'd known for his entire existence smoothed, the color changing in a swirling pattern.

Terror gripped him, and he lunged forward to pound his fist against the button. He needed help, he needed his friends. NOW.

The communicator shattered under the force of the impact, and he had time to hope that the message would still go through, right before his mind went blank.

-X-X-X-

"Do we have any idea what we're up against?" Sonic called as he stood on the wing of the Tornado. Tails shook his head as he brought the plane around to the flat area of Angel Island that served as their makeshift landing pad.

"It was strange," he said, checking the Miles Electric attached to the dash. "Knuckles' alarm sounded for a few seconds, then went dead. That could have happened if the communicator was destroyed. Whatever it is must be pretty bad."

"If anything's hurt Knuckles, they're gonna regret it," Amy called, her brow furrowed. "I'll make sure of it."

Sonic silently agreed. He stood on the wing as Tails brought the plane in closer. The kit didn't want to land yet, instead opting to scout the area to see if they could find the problem Knuckles had called them in to help with. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until they rounded the Master Emerald shrine.

"Holy Chaos," Sonic hissed under his breath, before raising his voice to be heard over the engines. He pointed at the base of the shrine. "What is that?"

Tails and Amy leaned over to look, and both wore identical expressions of shock and disbelief. What greeted them was a large . . . something, that looked part organic, part crystalline. Colors swirled over the creature, the pattern slow and seemingly calm.

Until it heard the plane pass overhead.

It lifted its . . . head(?) to . . . look(?) at them, and a seam split in the bottom to throw out a loud sound that seemed a mix of a roar, a shriek, and an unsettling almost musical tone. The soft pastel-ish colors that had been flowing over it turned deeper and more garish, and moved as though a visual representation of the thing's emotional state.

And right now, it looked pissed.

"That must be what Knux needed help with," Sonic said, dropping into a crouch, his brow furrowed. He flicked his eyes back and forth, but saw no sign of the echidna guardian. "I don't see Knux. This thing must have been too much even for him."

"If that thing's hurt him . . ." Amy growled, her teeth gritted. She was just itching to summon her hammer, but couldn't do it until they'd landed.

"I'll land and let you two take care of that creature," Tails said, turning to come around as he descended. "I'll make sure the Master Emerald is okay, and see if I can find Knuckles."

"Sounds like a plan, little brother," Sonic said, a familiar smirk on his lips. "Amy, you catch up when you can. I'm gonna see what this thing's got."

Before Amy or Tails could respond, Sonic was freefalling, rolling into a ball to land safely near the shrine. The creature seemed to hear him—sense him?—and turned toward the hedgehog.

"Hey there, big and ugly! What's a brute like you doing in a place like this?"

The creature lumbered forward, moving clumsily on its four limbs. It almost seemed drunk to Sonic, as though it wasn't as sure footed as it otherwise should be. The colors flowing over it had faded somewhat, but still moved in a pattern that seemed like a visual representation of 'alert'.

Sonic moved toward it, watching and waiting for that first attack. It uttered growls and other sounds that made his head hurt—as though he heard them in his mind instead of his ears—but he ignored it. If this thing had taken out Knuckles, there would be some payback owed.

"C'mon big fella," the hedgehog taunted. "Show me what ya got."

That seemed to be what the creature was waiting for, as it moved forward faster, moving at almost a gallop-like gait. Sonic let it get closer before launching into a spindash, hitting it square on the . . . well, where its jaw should have been. It didn't seem to have a face—just a spot with a few crystal-like shards sticking out.

The thing lurched to the right after Sonic's attack, stumbling and moving its limbs quickly to try and stay upright. Once it had regained its footing, it turned, swinging one of the massive forelimbs at Sonic. He avoided it easily, and threw himself in another spindash at the beast's side. It uttered what seemed like a surprised sound, before tipping over and hitting the ground hard.

Sonic stood back, rubbing a finger beneath his nose.

"C'mon, you're not even trying. Why would Knux need help with you?"

He stood and watched the creature push itself back to its feet, just as he heard Amy and Tails come running from behind.

"Sonic! Are you okay?" the kit called as he came to a stop next to his brother. Sonic waved a hand.

"This thing is literally a pushover. I barely touched it and down it went."

"That's odd," Tails said, rubbing his chin with a hand. "Why would Knuckles call for help if this thing is so easy to take down?"

"That's what I said."

"Where is Knuckles?" Amy asked, twisting her head this way and that to look for the echidna. "Did you see him?"

"No. Tails?"

"On it."

The fox kit hurried away, heading straight for the Master Emerald shrine to verify its safety, and see if he could spot the wayward guardian.

When Tails was just about to reach the base of the shrine, the creature's demeanor changed like a light switch. Its head snapped up, looking over toward the shrine, at the boy about to climb the steps. It issued a sound that had all three clapping their hands over their ears, before leaping to its feet and heading straight for Tails.

"Oh no you don't," Sonic growled as he zipped forward, curling into a ball to spindash directly at the thing's face again. It moved slightly faster this time, jerking its head to bat the hedgehog away.

Tails stood for a second, frozen in terror, before lifting himself into the sky. The beast launched forward, attempting to swat the boy out of the air, when a large, heavy hammer came down on its head, slamming it to the ground with a loud crash.

"Get to the Emerald!" she yelled, pulling her hammer back for another swing. "FIND KNUCKLES!"

Tails nodded, and turned to fly up to the gem at the top of the shrine. The creature suffered another blow from Amy's hammer, but the sight of the fox so near the Master Emerald seemed to enrage it and it lashed out, knocking Amy away as it tried to regain its feet to reach Tails.

Sonic was through playing around. He zipped around to gain a better attack point, and launched spindash after spindash, crashing into the thing's side, head, shoulder, and back again before it could get an inch closer to Tails. Amy returned with an angry shout, bringing her hammer down again and again on the creature's body, her worry for Knuckles and anger at whatever this thing had done to him overtaking her.

Tails made it to the top of the shrine, and surprisingly found a number of chao gathered around the large gemstone. Exclamation points floated above their heads, and they moved forward to surround the fox once he landed, pulling and grabbing him in an excited, almost panicked way.

"What? What's wrong? Is the Master Emerald okay?" he asked as the little creatures surrounded him. They grabbed him from all sides, climbing atop his tails and grabbing his arms as they tried to convey whatever had upset them.

Meanwhile, the battle raged below. The creature roared and swung at Sonic and Amy, but couldn't connect a solid blow. Every hit the two hedgehogs threw landed, and the beast began to slow as their attack tired it out.

Tails watched the fight from his vantage point, but the chao were insistent and would not let him go. He tried to calm them, tried to soothe them, but they were almost frantic in their behavior. As he tried to pull himself from their grip, he didn't notice he'd been backing toward the edge of the platform at the top. It was a good 30-40 foot drop down, and the chao on his tail meant he couldn't fly.

Sonic got another good hit in on the creature, sending it to its belly. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"This thing is a piece of cake. Why couldn't Knux take it down himself?"

"I don't know," Amy said, resting the head of her hammer on the ground as she watched it try to push itself back up. "I just wish we knew where he was."

As the two talked, the beast looked toward the shrine, anger surging at the fox that close to the Master Emerald. But it was moving away from the Emerald, which was good. It was moving closer to the edge of the top . . .

A new feeling shot through the creature, and the dark colors flowing over it in its anger and pain suddenly changed to an ice blue.

Protect. Help. Save.

The beast was up in a heartbeat, heading toward the shrine at a speed that Sonic and Amy would never have expected.

"Tails, watch out!" Sonic called when he noticed what was happening. He zipped forward but the creature was there first, pivoting around the side of the shrine and lurching forward with its hands cupped to catch Tails and his hanger-on chao just as they tipped over the edge. The fox and chao landed safely in the beast's hands, and were lowered gently to the ground.

"What the . . ." Sonic stood with his mouth open, just as Amy rushed to his side.

"Did I see what I thought I saw?"

"Why did it . . ."

Tails sat on the ground, the chao releasing him to hurry toward the creature. They patted the thing's side and caressed its head, the exclamation points changing to hearts.

"What are they . . ."

The creature shuddered, lowering itself to the ground as the colors flowing over it changed once more. At the top of the shrine, the Master Emerald glowed, and the creature's glow changed to match its green. As the three watched, the great beast began to shrink, the glow from it blinding them momentarily until it faded.

And Knuckles lay where it had been, battered and bruised.

"Oh great Gaia," Amy moaned, dropping her hammer and rushing forward to cradle Knuckles in her arms. "Knuckles? Oh, Knuckles! I'm so sorry!"

The echidna breathed heavy, his body shaking from the pain and confusion. He couldn't remember anything. He'd . . . called them, hadn't he? Why? Was there a . . .

Threat. There'd been a threat. Something had scared him, so he called them. Yes, that was it.

He lifted his head and blinked at each of his friends in turn.

"Is it . . ." He winced, his tongue running over the split in his lip. "Is the threat gone? Are you all okay?"

Sonic and Amy exchanged a glance. Amy kept holding onto Knuckles, pulling him to her in a tight hug. He grunted—he was injured, likely from whatever threat he'd called them to help with. She loosened her hold slightly, but did not let go.

"Where is the threat?" he asked, trying to push himself to his feet. "Is it still here?"

Tails moved around to stand near Sonic, and the two exchanged a glance.

"No, it's gone now," Sonic said, before taking a deep breath. "Knux, we need to talk."

#sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #knuckles the echidna #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #amy rose

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fleet-of-fiction · 5 months

Text

Josh Kiszka x Female Reader POV

Summary: You've had enough and want to go home. He's been gone for weeks, and you're desperate to enjoy your new house with your long-term love. You just want Josh all to yourself.

Warnings: Drugs. Alcohol. Dirty talk. Fingering. Oral sex female receiving. Edging. Oral sex male receiving. Rough penetration. Degradation. Choking. Throat play.

(Original post here)

"You wanna go home, get high and fuck?"

Josh slammed his glass down onto the table and scanned the bar for anyone who might have heard you.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, raking a hand through his facial hair.

You begin to pout. "You know tequila makes me horny."

He nods in agreeance, almost pleased with himself for insisting on slammers instead of sensible 'welcome home' drinks.

"I fucking love it when you're all tequila horny." He whispered, grabbing his jacket off the back of his bar stool.

It wasn't just the tequila, though. Josh had been gone for weeks, serving his time as everybody else's object of desire. You'd been willing yourself to wait until he returned before giving in to your own desires, not even touching yourself in the shower until he was back where he belonged. In the fixer upper you were still working on, despite moving in months ago.

There were still boxes waiting to be unpacked in the open spaces, pictures leaning against walls you hadn't nailed them to yet. Plants sat waiting to be watered on the stairs, and a kitchen that needed bringing into the current century.

As you opened the front door, greeted by your slow progress, Josh peeled off his jacket and threw it down on the unpacked boxes. Neither if you seemed to care that there was so much to do, not when you could meander through the chaos and do what you wanted instead of what you needed.

He slinked out of his emerald green jumpsuit as he made his way towards the back of the house, you following him with equal desire to be rid of your clothes. Dropping your white skirt and halter neck on the floor. On tip toes you grabbed two beers from the fridge, Josh padding around the cupboards with his bad posture and flat feet.

You couldn't stand it when he moved around like that. In his tight little boxer shorts, waving his arms around as he tried to remember where he'd put his stash. Almost like a little old man, so endearing and yet the shape of his body made you quiver. The way his stomach planed out at the waist, every breath straining against the elastic of his underwear. His chest soft and toned, casting shadows down his torso as he switched the kitchen lamp on. Those curved arms lifting behind his head as he stopped to think. His teeth gripping his lower lip, you could feel yourself lilting towards fucking him before getting high.

His eyes came to rest on your naked breasts and the tiny pair of lace panties that sat snugly against your thighs. He recalled buying them for you and a shit eating smirk began to curl on his upper lip.

"You wanna skip to the fuck part?" You asked, feeling the chill of the beer bottles against your skin.

He shook his head, errant curls falling around his face.

"I wanna get you in that frame of mind, first." He replied, opening the cupboard nearest and peering inside. "That one where you don't give a shit about anything and just let go."

You watched him click his fingers as he reached into the back of the cupboard, pulling out a bag of weed you hadn't even known was there. Benny and the Jets coming through the speaker on shuffle.

"Don't I always welcome you home like this?" You said rhetorically, rolling your eyes before tip-toeing over to the sun room, taking Benny and the Bluetooth speaker with you.

It was the only room you'd completed. Lined with glass panes from floor to ceiling, it had been the thing which made you beg Josh to buy the house. Pleading with him. Baby, I need this... knowing he would eventually see things from your perspective. And he had, when you'd introduced the slipper chairs and day bed. The low, warm lighting and church candles. The little mosaic table where you kept all your grinders and papers. And the fact that all the windows reflected the way you fucked him in the dark.

You popped open the beers and leaned back into one of the chairs, your knees up and toes gripping the edge of the green velvet. Josh sat opposite, deftly working to build a joint as you sipped on your beer, spectating.

"Every fucking night, I had to roll a joint just to sleep in that fucking bunk." He complained, easing himself back into home life. "Listening to Jake on the phone all night, all because he refuses to sleep until dawn."

You rested the head of the beer bottle on your lip and extended your foot out, caressing your pointed toes through his hair. He looked up at you as he rolled, his line of vision coming to rest on the material covering your pussy lips. As he licked the papers and twisted them shut, you nudged his cheek with the side of your foot playfully.

"You're home now, baby." You said softly, in the sort of voice you reserved for placating his worries.

He was so sweet to you, especially when he was fresh from the road. Desperate for his comforts and your body. You never grew tired of it, that feeling of longing for him coming to an end. Like an orgasm after being choked. He lit the joint and pursed his lips around it, exhaling upwards as you watched his throat flex.

"You wanna know a secret?" You asked, taking a long swig from your bottle.

"Always." He responded, passing you the joint so that he could take care of his own beer.

"I haven't even masturbated while you were gone." You said casually, pressing the joint to your lips and pulling hard.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair to appraise you. Mouth rounded at the hilt of his beer bottle, trying to think of a worthy response to something he knew you had done to make his homecoming fuck all the sweeter.

"Was that all for me?" He asked, edging the possibility that it wasn't.

You passed the joint back to him. "Just like every fuckin' thing else."

He laughed as he took the smoke back, a white cloud billowing out of his mouth as he tempered your humour with his own. He loved it when you teased him, when you played him as your king and you were at his service.

"You could have slipped a few fingers in while we were on the phone." He chuckled, "I really wouldn't have minded."

You could feel yourself begin to vibrate. That tingle on your skin and your vision beginning to flow like a painting as you moved your head. Your pussy was already throbbing, a tangible sensation of your body responding to the weed and to your beautiful boyfriend watching you closely.

"And miss seeing the way you're looking at me right now, I don't think so." You replied, locking his gaze with yours. "What you thinkin' about?"

"Putting my fingers inside you." He replied, taking a deep breath as he dashed the joint in the ashtray and sunk his beer.

He was hard underneath his boxers. He adjusted himself with the palm of his free hand as it sat against his thigh, thick and pulsating with the thoughts running through his head.

"Whatever you want." You sighed, feeling the heat of knowing how it felt inside you as you watched the tip peek out from the edge of the material.

His eyes were half closed, his mouth open to a pout. Everything felt slow when you were like this, even the words that slipped out his mouth sounded slow. When he was stoned it was like a part of his brain awoke from slumber, and you loved how he eloquently spoke of things he wouldn't dare say when he made love to you. He was still your sweet boy, but that demon which was yours whenever he came home took it's moment to shine.

"I want your pussy juice on my fingers." He said without hesitation, shoving the table aside in one swift movement.

He cleared the space between you, on his knees by the foot of your chair. He wasted no time in pushing your legs wide apart, revealing the wet crutch between the woven lace. He slipped it aside and his eyes widened. He moaned softly at the sight of it, your glistening lips freshly waxed and smooth.

"Sweet fucking jesus." He said breathlessly, cocking his head to the side as he took in the view. "You've been neglecting her."

You looked down at him between your legs, dizzy and aching for him to touch you.

"Pay her some attention, baby. Go on..." You urged, your voice a needy whimper.

The tip of his index finger flew down your wet slit, eliciting from your lips a primal moan that was all relief. You kept your eyes on him as he slipped his finger inside, the wetness of your cunt making a beautiful sloppy sound that made him hold his breath.

"I fucking love that sound." He told you, his voice almost breaking as he slipped a second finger inside and watched your entire body shake. "Yeah, you like that?"

Your bottom lip was planted firmly beneath your teeth, your resolve hanging there as you nodded and felt your toes curl over the edge of the velvet seat. You were dripping onto it, ruining the material but you couldn't stop yourself.

"I fucking love it, baby. Don't stop." You were begging now, feeling your arousal drag you into the pits of depravity. "You like how my pussy feels?"

He smirks at the way you check in with him, leaning up to kiss you while his fingers continue to pound into you. You feel his tongue glide into your mouth, his soft lips open against yours. You allow him to venture deep, your own tongue brushing back. He only kissed you like this when he was lost to his arousal. When he was so deeply turned on, all inhibitions were smoked away.

"So tight and warm." He replied, dragging his mouth away for a moment before returning to you with more force. "And so fucking wet..."

You were grinding into his hand now. "Put your tongue on it baby, please...do that thing I like..."

You could feel yourself wilt beneath his touch. As he pulled away from your mouth, his eyes watching your tongue rest against your lip he wore the face you loved the most. The serious one where his jaw was clenched.

"You want me to sing on your pussy?" He asked, drawing a gasp from you as he pulled out his fingers.

"Josh..." You breathed his name, tasting yourself as he inched his fingertips into your mouth. "Sing on it, please..."

He knew what you meant. Your hands flew to his curls as he buried his face between your open legs. Pushing your lips apart with juiced fingers, he pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit and began humming softly. Using the vocal techniques he had learned to keep his high notes belting out for longer, you felt his tongue begin to shudder against you.

He understood what you needed. Padding his vibrating tongue against your swollen clit, his voice rich and low as he moaned against your sweet cunt. Ever since he'd been taught how to carry his voice, he'd known it would translate well when his mouth was on you. It never failed to reduce you into a quivering wreck, your knees shaking wildly as his head moved back and forth. Your mouth breathing silent pleas you couldn't speak. The sound of him swallowing your wetness making you audibly whine.

"Talk to me, baby." He grunted between swills of his tongue probing inside your entrance.

You snapped your head back and felt his soft, warm flickering increase. "Damn it, Josh! You fucking know what you're doing to me..."

Rivulets of sweat trickled down your chest into your heaving cleavage. Your skin becoming sleek with it as you moved your hips against his working mouth. The swells of orgasm threatening to end you, sweeping up from your clit into your stomach.

Instinctively, you push him back with a careful foot. His body reeling, his face covered in your juice. His breathing is laboured, a look of devilish satisfaction painted across his face as he swallowed hard.

"You were gonna make me cum in your mouth, weren't you?" You surmised, catching the way he looked down at the mess he had made.

"I'm thirsty." He replied solemnly, raking his thumb over your clit to keep you edged. "But I can see you're in the mood for something a little darker."

"I missed you." You purred, "I want to make it last..."

He nodded sweetly, in that way he had about him. Josh moved so fluidly, his mannerisms almost like a dance. Even if he was being subtle, moving from one position to the next. As he began to rise, you were greeted with his bulge as he reached in and pulled his cock out of his boxer shorts. You leaned forward, helping him to pull them down as the tip of his penis brushed against your cheek.

He tapped it against your lips. "Why don't you open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me how much you missed me?"

You shuffled to the edge of the chair, your incessantly wet cunt drenching the velvet now. You hissed at the sensation of your clit against the soft upholstery. Gripping the base of Josh's cock as you rocked your hips against the edge of the seat.

Opening wide, you looked up at him. Through the valley of the trail of hair that reached up towards his navel, finding the way he looked back down at you almost more than you could take. He was wearing that clenched jaw again.

"I missed you too." He said, almost as an afterthought, tapping his head against the flat of your tongue. "Now, let me in...be my dirty girl for just a little longer."

Josh was deceivingly big. A secret only you carried. The way he carried himself belied the truth of his girth. You often watched him when he didn't know you were looking, imagining the size of his cock when it was hard as he carried out mundane tasks.

You stared down the length of it, marvelling at the blood coursing through the veins. The pinkness of his head as you sucked on it gently. Easing him into your mouth slowly, so that you could prepare your throat for the pounding you knew would come. Because that's the way Josh liked it when he was high. When he was overstimulated. When the filthy, intrusive thoughts spilled out.

He leaned down as you nibbled at his tip, grazing your teeth against the edge. it sent a shiver down his spine as he picked up the joint and lighter, reigniting it as you began working his base with your hand and sucking down on the end of his cock with your mouth.

Tilting his head back, he exhaled a plume of smoke as you rocked your head back and forth. He almost coughed on it as your nails brushed up against his balls. You knew his weakness, and he knew you were heading towards it as you lifted up his erection and pressed it against his stomach. Your tongue bearing down between his balls, slipping beneath to run up his taint.

"Oh, you little fucker...." He growled, taking a knot of your hair in his fist. "Dirty little bitch."

Bitch was reserved for moments like these. When he wasn't quite himself. When he was a version that was so far removed from who he was in the cold light of day sometimes it felt like you were fucking his alter-ego. The one he used to grace the stage. The one who manifested himself in rage fucks when something had pissed him off. And when he came home to you and got high, he was still the man you loved. But with an edge to him that excited you so completely still, to this day.

You're well versed in the girth and ridges of his cock that feel like home to you. All the versions of Josh that spill out of his mouth don't matter when you can feel the familiarity of him sliding down your throat. You hear a familiar sigh, a low and gutteral sound that lets you know he's lost for words.

A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock as you pull away, rubbing your spit up and down his shaft.

"Say it again." You venture, jerking him so hard his entire body shakes.

There was something about him speaking to you like that which planted a seed in your psyche. You were safe with Josh. He took another drag of the joint, raising his head to blow out the smoke as he realised what you meant.

"Oh, you are in the mood for something a little darker tonight, aren't you?" He said, that same shit eating smirk from earlier returning to his mouth. "Get your mouth back on my cock right now, you filthy little whore."

You did as you were told, a high pitched moan escaping your lips before he rutted into your open mouth. He dropped the joint back in the ashtray, completely consumed by your request. His hands pushing your head into his crotch, determined to choke you until you begged for air.

You could feel him leaking down your throat. His salty, smooth pre-cum dripping down the back of your tongue. Your eyes were watering and your pussy throbbing so hard at the name he had called you. Whore... It made you feel as if you could ruin him.

"Take it down." He ordered, keeping your head locked with his entire cock buried inside your mouth. "That's my filthy little bitch whore, right there..."

When he released you, the air rushed to your lungs and you gasped for it. He stood back and watched your hands fly to your chest. He knelt down, wiping the tears that fell down your cheeks. Palpable panic in the place of arousal.

"Shit, baby..." He fussed, "I took it too far, didn't I?"

It took a moment to regain your composure, but when you did there was a reluctance to give up the darkness. His worry dissipated as you smiled, mouth covered in saliva and pre-cum. He ran his thumb across it, sealing a kiss as he pulled you off the chair completely.

Both of you languished on your knees, the rug pressed hard into your bony flesh. You picked up the joint from the ashtray and took the last few drags of it, blowing the smoke into Josh's waiting mouth. Sharing it, savouring it. Sinking into a kiss that was soft and pleasing.

"Fuck me nasty, Daddy..." You said with a wink, knowing it was the first time you'd ever called him that.

He clamoured at what to say. Almost stammering. "Fuck... you are something else tonight."

"Maybe I should abstain while you're gone more often." You suggested, trailing a finger tip down his chest.

There was no teasing in the way he needed you now. He rounded the back of your neck with his palm, pulling you in to another soft, romantic kiss. Feather light fingers guiding your waist to rest against his, his erection pressed into your stomach.

"I know you love me baby, I want this..." You reassured him. "You can fuck me as hard as you've ever wanted to."

"Yeah?" He gauged, running his hand down the side of your face.

"Haven't you ever imagined it? Holding me down until I beg? Has the thought never crossed that cavernous mind of yours?" You asked, parting the curls which fell about his forehead.

"I've imagined a great many things." He confessed, "Mostly while I'm jerking off in hotel rooms."

"If you were ever going to tell me, tonight is the night." You said, brushing his lips with the tip of your tongue, slowly edging it into his mouth and covering his lips with yours.

You gripped his cock tightly and he shuddered. Moving your hand up and down, forcing him to speak.

"Sometimes I think about fucking you in the ass from behind." He said, almost in whisper until your pace quickened at the idea of it. "And when I think about it, you cry out and beg me to fuck you harder and it always makes me cum so quick."

"Mmm'hmmm..." You continued, "Give me details."

His throat flexed as he swallowed. "Well, I just think about parting your ass cheeks and what my cock looks like all wet from being inside your pussy when I push it into your asshole. Oh god..."

You felt the warm trickle of him leaking down your curled fist.

"When I think about you, I always imagine what we're doing right now." You confessed right back. "Calling me your dirty little fuck whore, making me choke on your big fat cock."

He stifled a giggle as you described him. "The fuck did I do to deserve you, huh?"

"No, baby..."You murmured, leading him over to the day bed. "I'm the lucky one."

He placed slow, gentle kisses from your chin, down to your neck, stopping in the front of your throat to nibble gently. You may have stopped breathing, because you could no longer feel anything but his sweet caresses. A fever burned, starting in your stomach then spreading down to your core. A heat that threatened to start a fire if he didn't fuck you soon.

There was a glint of greed in his eyes as he lapped over your hard nipples with his tongue. As if he knew what he was doing, but he would have this first. Laid side by side, surrounded by soft woollen throws and embroidered cushions, he pulled your leg up to his hip and his hand flew to your throat.

"You want me to fuck you nasty?" He clarified, moving his hips so that the tip of his cock languished at your entrance.

"Just fuck me Josh, I need it..." You begged.

His hand gripped harder, fingers digging into your neck. His cock slipped inside you, stretching you after the weeks he had been parted from you. He filled you up whole, his pubic hair rubbing against your pussy lips as he thrust.

"Is this what you want is it? To be fucked like the little dirty bitch that you are?" He asked, keeping his grip on your neck as he pummelled into you.

Your entire body was jerking against him. The heat in your belly reaching out for the rest of your body, muscle and sinew, aching at what he was doing to you.

"Yes..." You cried, "Fuck me so good, Daddy please..."

Oh, he liked that. It pleased him greatly to be the one in control. You could see it in the way he couldn't stop himself from that half-smile. That cocky side-eye.

"Filthy little fuck whore..." He breathed, his pace so quick all you could hear was your own panting against the wetness and sloppy sound of him hitting your wet pussy so hard.

He countered it with a few mutterings of beautiful and love, which spurred you on just as hard as the degradation. More than that though, was his desperation. The way he thrust into you, never breaking eye contact, never releasing your throat. He moaned so melodically you could only imagine how it must have felt for him.

You told him when you were close. Your walls clenching hard against his thrusting shaft. Every inch being taken rough and hard. You could feel when he was nearing the end, too. He loosened his grip and his thrust became more deliberate. Holding his cock inside you a little longer after each one. As if baiting his own cum to spill out.

"I love you, Josh..." You whispered between his primal grunting.

He released as he said back. "Fuck....I love you, too..."

He was still pumping his cum into you as you felt yourself let go. Both of you chiming in unison as you came down. He'd never looked more fucked out and beautiful as he did then.

"So..." You said, still catching your breath. "You wanna go back to the bar?"

The End.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #josh kiszka x reader

131 notes · View notes

dandelionfairyyy · 7 months

Text

Messy G. G.

Summary: just two lost souls finally finding peace in each others company

Pairing: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x fem!reader

Wordcount: 7,193 (I’m sorry 😭)

Triggerwaning: 16+ because of slight mention of: blood, torture, GSWs, panic attacks, use of drugs, underweight, mental struggle, trauma and death as well as explicit described sexual acts and possible incorrect description of certain things/feelings and possible writing mistakes

A/N: this piece turned out longer than I expected but I hope you still like it. And as a disclaimer or something: just to make it clear, I didn’t experienced any of this so I apologize for incorrect descriptions.

Red-stained water flows from your hands as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your face bears more stains and you have to close your eyes for a moment and breathe deeply to push back the memory as you continue to wash the red from your skin.

It's like dejà vu. Every time you clean up after painting, you feel transported back to the night three months ago.

There was red everywhere, as if one of your colours had tipped over, but your Ma had been clear when she had forbidden you to paint in the living room. And you had kept to it.

Your gaze wandered through the room of chaos and your breath was taken away when you spotted someone.

"Dad!"

You go down on your knees in front of him, pressing your hands on the gunshot wound in his chest from which blood was still running. Tears now ran down your cheeks as you remembered your mum and siblings.

"Where's Ma? And Olivia? And Wesley? Dad!"

Your dad made a strained groan and mumbled something. You moved your ear closer to his mouth and heard, "They took her... They wanted... Documents... Ma doesn't know anything about it... Bank... 273B..." You couldn't make sense of it, to you it all sounded like the confused ramblings of a dying man, but soon you realised that he was actually serious.

Agitated, you wash the red colour and salty tears from your cheeks. Your hands clench around the ceramics of your sink in an attempt to push back the panic attack.

They cannot hurt you. They cannot hurt you.

They know nothing about you...

With shaky hands, you open the small medicine compartment next to the mirror.

Shit!

You had smoked the last one the day before yesterday... frustrated, you slam the door again and grab your fanny pack with your money before heading to your new friend Johnny. The shivering slowly subsides. The cold winter air seems to help.

"Hey Sugar," he greets you with his typical flirty smirk.

"Quit it. I'm not in the mood. I need another five...'

Johnny looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "When we met you didn't want to know anything about the drugs and now you're one of my most loyal customers? What the hell happened to you?"

"Let's not talk about it," you suggest and take a few dollar notes out of your pocket.

Johnny presses the little bag into your hand and takes the money from you. "Hey, if you ever need something stronger, let me know."

"Don't give me any ideas."

Johnny playfully raises his hands defensively. "Just an offer." He looks at you again with concern. You've known each other for a few years now, travelled in the same circles and he's taken you to his heart. But you've only really had closer contact since the incident. That's why he was worried about you now. You hadn't told him what happened, you'd just asked him three months ago for something to quiet the mind and let you sleep. "Sugar, there's a party at one of my boys' on Friday night. Do you want to come?"

"I'll think about it." With those words, you turn around and make your way back to your little flat. Your flat... It belonged to your parents. It was bought as an investment at the time. Along with two others. For you and your siblings, should you want to move out. Now you have three flats and a house, as well as a flourishing family business worth millions, and you don't know what to do with it. And that's just what you know.

When you check the letterbox, there is another letter from your family's lawyer. You know what it says. That you should accept or reject the inheritance listed. That you have to take care of so many things you never wanted to worry about...

Closing the flat door with one foot, you make your way to the couch.

It doesn't take long and you have your "medicine" in stock again and you reach for the lighter on the small table.

The herbal taste spreads through your mouth after the first hit. After the third, you finally start to feel the marijuana. The comforting blanket wraps around your thoughts and they finally quiet down. The traumatic images from three months ago blur into a simple mist in your mind and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Knowing that hunger will soon set in, you make your way to the kitchen with the joint between your lips and take a look in the fridge.

Margarita, your parents' housekeeper, who is now looking after you, has put something in the fridge for you. Reading the little message lying next to it, you start to heat it up in the pan.

Because I know you won't cook anything anyway, I took the liberty of preparing something for you. You really should eat more, child.

You smirk.

Margarita has been working for your family for more than twenty years, taking care of the household and you and your siblings as children. Now there is only you left for her to take care of. You take another drag and these thoughts also fall completely silent.

Instead, you focus on the food.

Margarita's food was always incredible, but with the effect of the marijuana it is even better. Smiling contentedly, you eat in complete silence before fatigue sets in soon after.

Yawning, you plod barefoot from the kitchen back to the couch.

Next to the pillow lies the little sheep that you have had as a cuddly toy since birth. If someone asked you, you would deny that you still sleep with a cuddly toy, but since what happened three months ago, the little sheep has given you comfort when no one else could.

You lovingly hug the fluffy thing to you and finally close your eyes to fall asleep shortly afterwards.

Your flat actually consists of three rooms. A bedroom, a study and a living room.

But two of the three rooms are empty. The walls are bare and there is not a single piece of furniture in them. Only in the living room is a couch where you sleep and a table next to it. Otherwise, the boxes that Margarita packed for you from the house are standing around. You haven't even opened most of them. Everything in them reminds you of something that is no longer there.

Friday morning you finally stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself. You have lost a lot of weight after the incident, but thanks to Margarita, who forced you to eat more in the beginning, your clothes start to fit again.

You no longer wear your belts in the last hole, your T-shirts no longer hang down like sacks. Your hair looks fuller and healthier again.

Maybe you should make a change?

After a moment's thought, you call Margarita. And only thirty minutes later she is standing in front of your flat with hair dye.

"Are you sure, dear?" she asks in her Russian accent for the third time and lowers the scissors again. "Your beautiful hair..." When you were little, she made you pigtails every morning. Sometimes one, sometimes two. Sometimes braided, sometimes not. And every day she admired your full and soft hair.

By now you can do most of the braids on your own. But in the last few months you have neglected yourself. This is also noticeable in your hair.

"Yes, Margarita. I'm sure of it. And don't worry. It will grow back anyway..." you reply with a grin and watch as she takes a strand of your hair, applies the scissors and squints. You hear the sound of the scissors cutting through your hair. There is no turning back now.

Three hours later, you're standing in front of the mirror again and looking at your new hairstyle.

The dark brown has turned into a light blonde and your hair is much shorter. Before it almost reached your bottom, now it doesn't even reach your shoulder. The end just hovers over it. You didn't know how heavy hair can actually be.

"Wow...", you say and run your fingers through your new hair. You part your hair in the middle, make a side parting, and finally bites your lower lip with an admiring smile.

"You look great, love," she confirms to you and as you turn to thank her, she sees for the first time the glow in your eyes again for three months.

She hopes so much that you will slowly get back on your feet. You are like a daughter to her. She has watched you grow up and looked after you when your parents were busy again. So it hurts her heart every time to see you the way you are. You are lost. Lost in a world where you don't belong, where you never wanted to belong.

How she would love to take this burden off your shoulders, but she could not. All she can do is stand by your side and help when it is needed. But first you have to find your footing again.

After another look in the mirror, you decide to go to that party Johnny invited you to. While Margarita tidies up the flat again, you carelessly go through the boxes of expensive clothes.

Finally, you're back in front of the mirror in a pair of ripped jeans and a crop top. You look at yourself with a smile.

"You look like an angel," Margarita says as she leans against the doorframe, watching you.

You would not describe yourself as an angel, but as beautiful.

It has been a long time since you felt yourself to be beautiful. You see in the eyes of your old friend and housekeeper the hope that you wanted to feel so much. You no longer want to be this wreck, this shadow of yourself. But you are now in this new world where you never wanted to belong. And you don't know how to find your footing in it.

Shaking your head, you push the thoughts aside and thank Margarita again with a kiss on the cheek. You still ask her for one last favour, because you have to get to the party somehow.

"Sugar, what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you." "Well, if you want, I can leave again..." you joke.

Johnny smiles and grabs your hand to pull you into the house and his arms. "You look hot by the way", he whispers in your ear and places a kiss on your temple.

"Whatever," you dismiss the compliment with a little laugh and let yourself join the group of other partygoers.

"Hey guys, this is Y/N," Johnny introduces you and drops onto one of the couches. He pulls you with him onto his lap.

"You wish, Johnny. Keep your hands off. I am your customer, not your girlfriend, Sugar." You emphasise the pet name, which he always uses for you, especially.

"Worth a try, isn't it?"

You let your gaze wander around the room. Apart from Johnny, there are four other men sitting in the room. spread out the couches. "You call this a party? Or is this just the warm-up round?" you finally ask.

"I didn't know if you'd really come and how much of a party animal you are." Had he really done that just for you?

"Since when do you care how I am?" you ask him, poking him in the side.

"Some people I just like to take care of.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and don't respond further to his comment. Instead you say, "You didn't answer my question?"

"Hey Timothy, send out a message that there's a party here at short notice," Johnny gives to one of the other guests.

"You got it, boss."

"You'll have your party in an hour," Johnny promises and you smile. He leans forward a little and finally presses his lips to yours. You allow it for a few seconds before you release and place a finger on his lips, shaking your head.

"Nice try." You turn away from him and disappear into the bathroom.

A few deep breaths, a little water over your forearms and you're all better.

When you come back, you don't sit down next to Johnny again, but on the sofa opposite him. You need some space between you and him.

You like Johnny, he's a good friend, you can count on him, but he wants something from you. He makes no secret of it, but he doesn't understand that you don't want anything from him.

Now you are sitting next to a lanky young man, about your age, maybe a little older. With your back against the armrest, you casually put your legs diagonally across his, eliciting an overwhelmed "oh... okay" from him before you say, "Johnny didn't introduce us. I'm Y/N." You reach out your hand to him.

He takes it and introduces himself as "Mouse". You look at him in amazement. "Mouse?"

"Actually it's Greg, Mouse is a ridiculous nickname, but I've come to terms with it. Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Nice to meet you too."

As Johnny promised, less than an hour later there was a party going on in the house. Music booms muffled from the big room into the smaller one where you are still sitting on the couch with Mouse. He's thawed out enough by now that he had his hands on your thighs to keep your legs from sliding down.

You feel Johnny's jealous gaze on you, but try to ignore it as much as possible.

"Hey Mouse. Are you also part of Johnny's business?" you finally ask curiously. To be honest, he doesn't really look like a dealer, more like a customer.

"I would rather say business partner.”

You look at him curiously.

"He introduces me to people who I then work for. I'm a computer crack."

"Oh. That's cool. I don't have anything to do with it. I'm totally incompetent at it. My talents lie elsewhere."

"It's not that hard. What do you do?"

"Y/N has divine hands...", Johnny comments and one of the men laughs quietly in the background.

"You bet," you hear and roll your eyes. Thanks to a former girlfriend, you now have that reputation gone...

"So I'm an artist," you clarify. "Johnny also introduces me to people I work for. I've painted one or two forgeries of famous works of art. There's even one hanging in the museum here in Chicago." You wink at him with a proud grin. "But most of the works are my own."

"Are you selling them?"

"Some. I was organising an exhibition where I could sell the works. Sort of a silent auction." You shrug your shoulders as if to dismiss the subject.

"What happened to that?"

"Something's come up," you dodge the question and instead reach for his beer bottle to take a sip of it.

As soon as the tingling liquid hits your taste buds, you contort your face.

"Yuck. How can you drink that. That's super disgusting."

Mouse laughs and takes the bottle from you again to drink a sip from it himself.

For the rest of the evening you talk about different things. It feels easy with him, like you can finally be you again. As if you had found an anchor to swim back to the surface. But you push back the budding sense of security. People come and go all the time. You've had to learn that the hard way. And they always want something from you.

"Hey, what's with the sad face all of a sudden?" asks Mouse in a soft voice, lifting your head with his index finger under your chin until you look at him. You have the feeling that he is really interested in your answer. It has been a long time since a person was really interested in you. So far, they've all wanted something from you in return. To buy something, to borrow money, to introduce someone to them, to sleep with them. But Mouse seems to be interested in you and you alone.

Tears come to your eyes and you have to take a deep breath. You put your head back and have to blink a few times until you can control yourself again.

"Do you know when the bad thoughts get too loud? And you don't know where you are, what's real and what's imaginary? What exactly is your mind playing you now and what is really there?"

"That pretty much sums up what I went through some time ago."

The tears were back and burning in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks.

"Have you figured out how to get rid of it?"

He shakes his head. "Not really. But it gets easier with time, you learn to live with it. I can promise you that." You nod and look at him with a sad smile.

"God. I'm so pathetic.

"Hey, don't say that. You're amazing. From what I've heard of you so far." With more affectionate words he tries to make you feel better and the only appropriate response that comes to your mind is to kiss him.

You lean forward and simply place your lips on his, silencing him.

You sense that he is surprised and overwhelmed by your reaction, which is why you withdraw again.

"I’m sorry," you say apologetically and pinch your lips together a little. Actually, you're not sorry, it felt too good.

"Don't be," he replies now, putting down his beer bottle and pulling you closer again.

His hands on your cheeks, he puts his lips on yours again and begins to kiss you.

You change position a little until you are sitting astride his lap. His hands now on your back and in your hair, your arms around his neck, your hands also running through his hair, you kiss each other deeply.

You dare to let go. You feel that it's okay, that it's the right thing to do, you just let go and the tears trickle down your cheeks while Mouse holds you, is your anchor to reality, so that you don't get lost in the whirlpool. The images you constantly see in front of you just pass by this time, have no effect on you, because Mouse's is stronger. You feel light, safe and secure in his arms, even though you hardly know him.

Your kiss becomes more intimate, more demanding and you receive his tongue with yours. Then your head is empty.

There is nothing more. Just you and this stranger who has this incredible effect on you.

Finally, you break away breathlessly and just look into each other's eyes. You notice that he can't hold eye contact for long, but that's okay. You know... you have experienced first-hand the effects trauma can have. Your fingers begin to trace his contours.

He makes you feel like you've never felt before. You don't have to say a word. It is as if your looks communicate everything.

Gently he wipes your tears from your cheeks. You nod slightly at his questioning look. Yes, you feel much better now.

"Thank you," you form with your lips. A small smirk settles on his and you lean forward again to kiss him once more. This time it's different. You no longer seek a hold on him, this time it's a "thank you".

Your kiss is gentle, careful and sensual.

If someone had told you this morning what was happening, you would have said that they were nuts. You still can't quite understand how this one person can have such power over you. That this one person can simply silence your thoughts like that.

Time passed, you're sitting next to Mouse again. Your legs crossed his as Johnny brought you not only a cup of Coke but also a joint. You throw him a kissing hand.

After lighting the cigarette, you hold it out to Mouse, offering it to him. He takes a drag while you hold the joint before you take one too.

You blow out the smoke upwards with relish.

A few puffs later, you lean forward again a little until your lips are almost touching and you inhale his smoke before exhaling it back upwards.

"Hey Y/N...", you hear someone's voice before the owner enters the room, just as you inhale Mouse's smoke one more time. "..Johnny said you were here... And apparently you're busy."

You make a grumbling noise, detach yourself from Mouse and blow the smoke back upwards. "Just what I need..." you mutter, before turning to face her. Even through the wonderful fog of the Weed, you are pissed off by the presence of this horrible person. Inconspicuously, you squeeze Mouse's hand tightly, again looking for support, before finally letting go and standing up.

"Genevieve..." you reply, looking at her with a fake smile.

"It's good to see you again. Hey. I'm sorry about what happened."

"Please, don't talk about it and say what you want." Your voice is cold and distant.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour. I know it was not correct of me."

You laugh in disbelief. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone, Genevieve. That's not something you just shrug off with an 'I'm sorry'."

"I know that. That's why I want to make it up to you. Tell me what to do."

"Would you do what you put me through?" She remains silent and you snort snidely before taking another step back. You need distance between you. "Of course you wouldn't. After all, then your great image would be tarnished. The great benefactor Genevieve..." you scoff, before adding: "You make me sick."

You see her expression stiffen. "And you are a slut! You slept with my boyfriend even though you knew he was MY boyfriend!" There she is, the real Genevieve, as she lives and breathes. You knew she had this side in her, but you never expected to feel it yourself.

Your hands clench into fists and you feel your fingernails digging into your skin. The pain helps you to stay calm as much as possible.

"Excuse me? That was some pretty lie he breathed into your ear. I told him I didn't want anything from him! Do you think he cared? You know what he told me? That you were too innocent, too willing. Too boring. I slapped him and told him not to talk about my best friend like that in front of me. He then tried to rape me! So much for your perfect Richard and the evil evil Y/N!", you rage.

Shocked, she looks at you before regaining her composure. "Liar!" she hisses, then looks at Mouse. "Have fun with that bitch. Make sure she doesn't end up cheating on you with your best friend."

You gasp in indignation and shock at her impudence. Your former best friend turns around and disappears again.

One more time you have to take a deep breath.

"Wow... that was intense," you hear Mouse suddenly standing behind you. You notice how you immediately become calmer as soon as you feel him behind you.

"Welcome to the young high society of Chicago," you murmur and turn to him. "I'm sorry you overheard that."

"Hev. I want you to know that I don't believe a word she says."

You smile sadly. "Then you're the first. Even Johnny thinks I'm the evil whore in the story."

"Well. I think you're just lost and need someone to believe in you again."

"And you're saying that someone is you?"

"Maybe," Mouse replies with a grin.

You have to laugh and gently bite your lower lip, slightly swollen from your kiss, as you look up at him.

"Are you coming?"

"Where?"

"Get some fresh air, go to the other side of the world, or go to a diner and eat something. Just get away from here."

He takes your hand in his again and intertwines his fingers with yours.

"Where are you going?" he just asks.

You feel a tingle in your stomach as he smiles at you and you have to swallow.

You say goodbye to Johnny with a simple wave before leaving the house with Mouse by the hand.

A car on the other side of the road flashes its lights as soon as you are out of the front gate and you roll your eyes, while you mumble, "Margarita…”

Nevertheless, you walk with Mouse towards the black car with the tinted windows.

"Wow... are you super rich or something?" asks Mouse wryly.

"Please don't remind me,” you only reply, as Peter, your family's long-time driver, gets out and holds the door open.

"Miss Y/L/N," he greets you with a nod as you tell Mouse to get in. "Hey Pete," you say back and get into the car as well.

"Where to, Miss Y/L/N?"

"Hannah's Diner," you reply and Peter nods before pulling out of the parking space.

Next to you, you sense that Mouse would like to bombard you with a thousand questions, but he refrains.

You sigh and lean your head against his shoulder.

"I hate it," you admit.

In response, Mouse squeezes your hand.

You never wanted your family's money. Even though you got a lot of pocket money, you never touched it. Since you were 16 and allowed to work, you worked in a diner and earned your few bucks. Everything you bought since then, you always bought with your own money.

Until the incident three months ago, you worked at Hannah's Diner. But since then you have hardly left your flat. Hannah, who has become a friend over time, has been there for you and said that you can take as much time off as you want and when you are ready and willing, you can start working for her again.

Together with Mouse, you sit down at one of the tables and wait for Hannah to come

It was already late, but the diner was open 24/7. "Okay. What do you want?" you ask, "it's on me." Seeing the look on his face, you add, "Do me a favour and let me pay." After another look into your eyes, he nods. "Okay."

You are suddenly absolutely exhausted. The encounter with Genevieve has robbed you of all the strength you had today.

"Y/N. Good to see you again," you are finally greeted by Hannah with a smile. You return it and stand up to be pulled into a hug.

"How are you?" she asks, looking at you with concern.

You shrug your shoulders. "I'm still alive..."

Hannah's smile turns sad and compassionate. "Well, that's a start." She puts a hand on your shoulder as you sit back down across from Mouse. "What can I get you two?"

Once your milkshakes and fries are brought, Mouse begins to tell. "I was in the army, 3rd Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment. I did two tours in Afghanistan. When I came back, my best friend who I met on deployment and I were a total mess. There are things I don't want to think about anymore, there are things that are constantly in my head. You learn to live with it. The images eventually become less deterrent."

"What happened?" you ask cautiously.

"During my last tour... there was a convoy... Jay and I were in the first Humvee and then..." You can see him bobbing his leg restlessly as he tells the story, his fingers drumming on the table. "I thought that was it for me. Jay and I are about the only ones who got out of there alive."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." You are silent for a moment and take a deep sip of your Strawberry milkshake before you decide to tell him about you.

"My family is... was...", you correct yourself, "actually super rich. The company my dad started after he invented something for computers or something that's now in pretty much every mobile device is incredibly huge. I honestly have no idea about the whole… thing" you run your fingers through your hair. It's still unfamiliar that it's now so short and, more importantly, so light. "He produces it himself, sells it himself. At least he did... He was tinkering with something newer, better, when he got mugged." You start to stir your milkshake with the straw, totally captured in your thoughts. "Someone tried to steal his designs. When he didn't hand them over, they shot and kidnapped my Ma and siblings. They blackmailed them to get the designs. But they knew nothing about it. Dad had never said anything about it." Tears burn in your eyes again. "I’ve found them...” Mouse carefully reaches across the table for your hand and brings you back from the memory.

You lift your gaze and meet his bright blue eyes. "Now I've inherited everything and have no idea where to go or what to do," you admit quietly. "The police never found the… offenders”

Mouse said nothing. He didn't have to say anything. Because nothing he could have said would have made you feel better. So you both remained silent for a moment while he still held your hand and gently caressed your skin with his thumb.

"Thank you for telling me," he finally says and you can't help but smile sadly at him.

"Okay. Let's talk about something else. Something nice..", you finally change the subject and force a liberated smile on your lips. "Tell me about your friend you mentioned, Jay. He seems important to you."

Mouse's expression brightens and he begins to smile honestly.

"Jay... we met in the army. Now he's with the CPD. He's managed to land on his feet. I.. well.."

"You can do it too. You just need someone who believes in you and gives you a chance."

"Yes. Maybe..."

"Okay. Crazy idea: we help each other get back on our feet." "And how do you imagine that?" He looks at you with interest.

"I don't know yet. But you can try, can't you?" "Okay. Let's try.”

After you have eaten and paid, you leave the diner again. "Do you want Pete to take you home? Or you can come upstairs. Then Pete can call it a night..”.

"Would be interested to see what an artist's flat looks like."

You snort in amusement. "Yes, don't expect too much. The artist hasn't moved in yet."

You get into the lift.

"Okay. All expectations are at zero. I promise," Mouse replies now and you have to laugh.

It's the first time in three months that you've really had an honest laugh.

"You have a very nice laugh," Mouse now says quietly.

"Thank you. I think that was the first time I laughed since the incident."

"Then I am honoured to be the first to hear it."

Again you giggle at his silliness.

The lift has arrived at the floor with your flat and you pull Mouse behind you down the corridor.

Once in your flat, Mouse looks around a bit. There is not much to see.

"I... haven't gotten around to decorating the flat yet," you now admit a little uncertainly and disappear into the kitchen.

"Since I don't drink beer, I only have wine in the fridge. But you get to decide which wine we head." You list a few varieties and as you look up, you meet Mouse's puzzled gaze, which makes you grin in amusement again.

"Just take any."

With a bottle of lovely white wine and two glasses in your hand, you go back into the living room and flop down on the couch.

"Sit down. I honestly have no idea what it is, Margarita got it for me...", you admit, and hand Mouse a glass with the alcohol.

Instead of sitting down, Mouse looks at the canvases that are standing around. Still lifes, landscapes. Chicago's skyline, portraits.

"That looks incredible. You should definitely exhibit it."

"Sometime, maybe. My parents were organising something when... well…”

Mouse nods in understanding.

"Hey, you want to try painting something?", you ask

"Oh no. I'd rather stick to my computer stuff."

"Come on. I'll help you." You direct him to the small stool that stands in front of your easel. "This is what I'm working on right now."

"Woah, no, I'm not touching that."

"No really. It didn't turn out so well anyway. I'll probably paint it over later."

"What?"

"Yeah, go on. What would you say is missing from this picture?"

You had painted an avenue where people were walking.

"Maybe make flowers out of the greenery? Then it doesn't look quite so gloomy.

"Okay." You stand behind Mouse, prepare the mixing palette and select a brush. "You do the flowers with dabs on the side."

You put the brush in his hand, put yours over it and guide it. Dab, dab, dab.

After a few dabs, you look at it and say with satisfaction: "Here. Now you try it on your own”

When Mouse did it alone, it didn't look as good as when you did it. But it wasn't a complete disaster either, which you consider a victory.

At some point, he taps his finger in the pink colour and taps you on the nose with it.

Outraged and surprised, you look at him before doing the same to him until you are both full of colour and end up laughing on the floor.

Over the next few weeks you and Mouse meet more often, regularly, sometimes he just sits on your couch and watches you paint, intently sticking your tongue out slightly, sometimes you watch him hacking in with ease somewhere to do something for Johnny's friends.

One day, your family's lawyer is at your door.

"Miss Y/L/N. It is time for you to attend to your duties. There are legal matters that we need to clarify." Mouse puts on his jacket and wants to leave, but you grab his hand. "Please stay." A look into your eyes is enough for him to nod and hang his jacket back up on the coat rack.

"Y/N. Once again, I would like to express my fullest condolences for your loss and for having to burden you with the legal stuff now."

"Thank you."

First he addresses the fact that you have still not accepted or renounced the inheritance. He lists all the things that are involved.

The house, the flats, the business, all the money of your parents and siblings. Mouse's ears almost fell off when he heard the buzzing.

"We can of course sell the house as well as the flats and the business."

"No. The company was Dad's life's work. It should continue to bear the name Y/L/N. Just hire someone competent to handle everything so far."

"I'II take care of it," promises Felix, the lawyer. "Then the properties." "Let's rent them out to people with little money..." Felix also makes a note of this.

"I want to donate most of the money..."

"Where?"

"'I’ll think about it.”

"Alright. Then I have everything for now. I'll get back to you." "Okay."

"You really are super rich”, Mouse said as soon as Felix was out the door.

"I don't want the money... What am I supposed to do with it? I can't spend as much as the company takes in. I probably donate monthly to women's shelters and children's homes or something.”

Mouse gently reaches for your hand and finally pulls you into a hug before the tears start running again.

Carefully he pulls you with him to the couch and onto his lap.

Shortly after your tears have dried up, Mouse feels you fall asleep and he smiles slightly.

In the last few weeks you have become so important to each other and you feel you have never told Mouse what it actually means to you that he is with you.

"Mouse... thank you..."

"For what?"

"That you're here. I... I was lost. Lost my footing and then I met you and... you became my anchor. I'm... I'm starting to be me again. Finding myself again."

He looks at you for a moment before he takes your hand and pulls you to him. The next moment his lips are on yours.

It doesn't take you long to recover from the surprise and you return the kiss. You open your lips slightly and receive his tongue, just like the night you met. But this time, when his tongue touches yours, a soft moan escapes you. You feel his little smirk against your lips. But at this moment you don't care.

Your hands run over his upper body and finally disappear under his T-shirt. You explore his chest and trace the contours of his muscles along his stomach. You tug lightly and he takes the hint and takes off his T-shirt before kissing you again without hesitation. His hands now roam over your body as well. Exploring every inch with such attentiveness to your reactions that you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Finally, you take off your T-shirt and Mouse takes a few seconds to admire your body. Your breasts are still hidden in your favourite bra.

Mouse lifts his gaze to your eyes. "May I?"

Your heart does a somersault. Mouse is not the first man you have slept with, but he is the first to ask you if he can do something. Unable to speak, you nod and bring his hands to your breasts and behind your back. Even though he can't look you in the eye for long, he watches your reaction very closely and as he slips the straps off your shoulders, goose bumps spread over your arms as his fingers touch you.

Kissing you again, still so lovingly, as if he were afraid you would break if he were too forceful, his hands wrap around your breasts and he begins to massage them.

His thumb strokes your hard nipples and you let out another moan as you begin to explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your excited moan shoots straight between his loins.

God, he wants you, so much, but even more he wants you to feel good, which is why he ignores the pulsing in his pants and continues to focus on you.

His hands go under your thighs and he looks at you briefly, the sign that you should jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and feel his hardness pressing against your middle.

The next moment, Mouse holds you between him and the wall, his lips now exploring your neck. With your eyes closed, you put your head to the side a little to give him more space.

He sucks a little on your skin, and leaves a little hickey.

An excited gasp escapes your throat and in response, he presses his hips a little harder against yours, only to have you moan lustily this time. "Fuck, Mouse..." you breathe as his lips reach your breast and cup your hard nipple.

Your head is swept clean as he begins to gently nibble, suck and lick over it.

Your hands are in his hair again, already you are searching for support in the storm of lust that threatens to take you in and you haven't even really started yet.

Each of his touches sends flashes of pleasure through your body, gathering in your centre and making you so fucking wet.

Finally, he sets you back down on the floor and his lips continue to travel down your body, over your belly to the waistband of your pants.

A loud shrill sound snaps you out of your frenzy of lust as a mobile phone begins to ring and you make a soft, agonised sound.

You want to ignore it, but it won't stop ringing.

Finally, Mouse, visibly annoyed about the interruption, breaks away from you and reaches for the phone on the table. "You've picked possibly the worst possible time, Halstead. I hope it's urgent."

You have to stifle a laugh as you hand him his shirt and put yours back on as well.

"Yes, in ten minutes, l'lI be there," you hear him say before he hangs up and looks at you apologetically. "Jay has some problem I need to help him with urgently, which of course couldn't wait." You nod in understanding and give him a breathtaking kiss goodbye.

The more time you spend with Mouse, the more you become yourself again. Margarita notices this too and confronts him when she happens to be in the flat while you and Mouse are there.

"Child, don't you want to start making your flat a home so that you no longer have to sleep in a storeroom?" she asks you, pointing to the boxes still standing around.

"Yeah, maybe I should start doing that, shouldn't I?"

When you then go to the kitchen to get something to drink, Margarita confronts Mouse: "If you hurt her, I'll make your life hell. She likes you and you are good for her, so don't ever let her go."

Then she turns to you as you re-enter the living room and says: "A nice young man you've caught yourself. I'II leave you to it then. Food is in the fridge, have a nice day." With a frown, you watch the woman scurry out of the front door.

"What was that?"

"I don't know what you mean," Mouse replies.

You shrug it off and change the subject. "Hey, about the flat furnishings...maybe you'd like to come with me?" You look at him with begging puppy eyes, which you know by now he cannot resist.

Your parents always had designer furniture everywhere and everything was made of very expensive material. You don't care, if you're honest, which is why you just decide according to what looks nicest to you. You notice how you think of your parents and don't immediately lose your grip. A small smile comes to your lips. Of course you still grieve and miss your family, that probably won't change, but it no longer paralyses you. You learn to live with it.

And Mouse has contributed a great deal to your healing, you are very sure of that, which is why you now take his hand and intertwine your fingers

A small smile also appears on his lips.

When you arrive in the bed department, you stand in front of a model and bite your lower lip, an idea forming in your head before you look at Mouse

"You know, you can't really try out the beds here. Just imagine, when you get home you realise that it's totally uncomfortable or impractical? If only you could try it out...." You look up at him meaningfully and he begins to laugh softly.

He understands what you are implying and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, before suggesting, "What do you say we come back later?"

"I think that's a great idea," you reply, stealing a small kiss from his lips.

…to be continued

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#mouse #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #writing #writers on tumblr #short story #chicago pd #fiction #imagine #fanfiction

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seriowan · 1 year

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Picture this:

The whole dad!batch taking their respective little ones out together camping, sitting around a fire roasting food while they listen to their kiddos laughing and running around the camp-site around them. Hunter periodically telling them not to go to far, Tech telling his little ones about all the plants in the area they shouldn't touch, wrecker and his brood setting up the tents, echo and his mini bringing over supplies from the ship, all of the kids yelling and asking to take turns on sitting on Crosshair's shoulders because he's so tall.

You've simply ruined me with all of the dad!clone content and I eagerly await more

I AM SCREAMING LIKE A BANSHEE THIS GOT ME SO EXCITED 😭 I DON'T EVEN HAVE MUCH MORE TO SAY BECAUSE I COULDN'T WAIT TO GET TO THIS ASK AND I AM SO GLAD I'M HERE NOW!

without further ado, more dad!batch fluff and baby fever below the cut! to make it easier to write and know who's who, i named each of the kids! i took this idea and ran with it so this ended up becoming a whole fic instead of a blurb. enjoy!

in the wild - a dad!batch camping trip rating: g - general audiences word count: 5k

What would have been a peaceful night in the solitary woods was now chaos as voices and laughter bounced off of the towering Alderaanian trees. Wood scraped and thunked as it was chopped. Water from the nearby lake splashed when stones were picked and tossed, bouncing atop the clear, starry surface.

Hunter stood right on the edge of the lakeshore, water lapping against his boots as he looked over the water. With his arms crossed over his chest, his brows pinched with a tension he didn't even realize, he was lost in his train of thought.

A small tug on his coat caused him to blink, eyes flicking down at his side.

The tension faded, replaced by a faint smile as his little son peered up at him with big brown eyes. He held up a stone and smiled when Hunter chuckled.

"You sure this one will work, Kai?" He asked, scooping up the two-year-old boy in his arms.

Kai nodded, his small voice murmuring shyly, "Flat, papa. Throw."

He wasn't old enough to form sentences yet and Hunter secretly wished he'd never really get there. The little toddler speech, single words that meant so much, was honestly too endearing to really let go of. No more baby talk meant little Kai wasn't going to be little much longer.

But Hunter didn't want to think about that right now. So long as he could hold his son in his arms, he’d soak up every moment they had together.

Stone in hand, Hunter faced the lake and reared back his arm. On his hip, little Kai shyly peaked over his arm, clinging to his father. When the rock flung out of Hunter’s hand, he held onto his adi'ka and watched with shared attention as Kai’s preciously provided stone bounced seven times before sinking.

Hunter bounced the boy on his hip with a soft cheer, causing his shy toddler to giggle and duck his head against his shoulder. Smiling from ear to ear, Kai finally looked up when Hunter kissed his forehead. His cheeks were pink as he reached out to touch Hunter's tattooed cheek. With a tilt of his head, Hunter pretended to bite Kai’s palm, earning a loud, shrieking giggle that so rarely fell from his little boy’s lips.

With a quick kiss to Kai’s forehead, Hunter lowered the boy to his feet and pat his bottom with a playful tap, nudging him toward camp.

“Go on, scout. It’s getting late and you wanted some s’mores, right?”

Kai looked up and nodded, offering his hand for Hunter to grasp.

“Tea, too."

Hunter chuckled, nodding.

“I’ll get you your tea, son.”

Lyra liked exploring.

For an eleven-month-old baby, she did a lot of crawling and searching, turning over rocks and tugging on flowers. Being too small to walk on her own, she needed help to keep herself upright. With her large hands clenching her father’s two fingers, she waddled from side to side in her denim jumpsuit and red booties.

Tech hovered over her, cautiously following her as she guided him around the campsite. Lyra babbled and squealed, wordless yet emotive with every single little flower and bug that caught her eye.

And Tech was there to explain it all.

“Eh?” Lyra sang in a questioning tone, crouching and pointing at a stone.

Tech crouched by her, holding her upright with a hand on her hip while using the other to tilt the rock over. The two hunched closer to the ground, ears pressing together as Tech gestured to the various bugs. “That is a millipede and this is a grub.”

She babbled and sputtered, and Tech nodded as if he understood. “Yes, and this is a poisonous centipede so we don’t want to be making physical contact with that one, ladybug.”

Lyra looked him dead in the eye before turning and stretching, reaching her little finger toward the centipede that Tech just warned her about. He sighed, tugging his troublemaker backward by the straps of her overalls. She looked up at him with an innocent smile and he shook his head, chuckling at her impulsive nature.

Lyra grasped his fingers as best as she could and pulled him along, waddling and tripping only for Tech to save her with gentle swings, raising her legs up and down. With little light left in the sky, he wanted to give her enough time to explore and tire herself out — it was the most reasonable plan to give her the chance to sleep throughout the night without waking him up every so often.

She pulled him to a patch of purple flowers and, like before, crouched down to get a better look. Tech kneeled beside her, picking one up to hold to her eye level.

“These are wild lavender,” he explained. “They have a very aromatic fragrance. here, smell it, Lyra.”

When all that she did was blink at him, Tech decided to demonstrate by lifting the flower to his nose. He sniffed it and smiled when his baby girl giggled. Tilting it her way, she placed her hand on his chest to keep herself steady and leaned, sniffing the plant with her little nose.

Suddenly, in unison, the two scrunched their noses and sneezed at the same time.

Lyra fell against him in a fit of baby giggles, laughing even harder and louder at the second, third, and fourth sneezes that barrelled their way through Tech’s system. He huffed, sniffling and scrunching his nose from the outburst. With wide eyes, he looked at his laughing ladybug and furrowed his brows.

"Odd," he hummed, “It seems we both have an allergic reaction to wild lavender. Perhaps it is best if we return to the campsite and inspect Wrecker and Olive’s progress with the tents. Alright, ladybug?”

She babbled and turned to flee when Tech scooped her up, bringing her up in his arms. Lyra whined and kicked her legs in defiance but he just chuckled, pressing his mouth against her neck to blow raspberries. Her giggles were so cute, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her temple, smiling when she placed both palms on his cheeks and began to pinch and tug.

Tech just sighed, allowing her to pull and pinch his cheeks and nose as much as she pleased.

“You sure you can do it?”

“I can do it, dad.”

“M’kay… just sayin’, cause if you can’t then that’s ok-”

Olive sighed, glancing at Wrecker with furrowed brows. “Dad, I can do it.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright alright. Give it a shot then, kid.”

Lifting the hammer above the tent spike, Olive gave a few testing swings toward the spike’s head before bringing it down. Her accurate hit sent the spike straight into the soil, causing her to smile and look up at Wrecker with a victorious grin.

“See,” the ten-year-old sang teasingly. “I told you. I’m just as strong as you, daddy. I’m even stronger.”

Wrecker arched a brow, his smile slowly curling into a challenging grin.

“Oh yeah?”

Olive gasped and dropped her hammer, screeching when Wrecker picked her up and turned her upside down. With his grip on her ankle, he effortlessly held her a few inches off the ground, giving her enough space to keep her palms to the dirt.

“DAD, LET ME DOWN!”

“Take it back,” he shrugged as if it was a simple answer.

Olive huffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a defiant smirk. “No! Now put me down!”

Wrecker gave a deep and loud belly-laugh. “No. Now take it back before you start gettin’ woozy, kid.”

Just as she began to writhe and wriggle like a worm on a hook, Tech came around the tent corner with Lyra cradled snugly in his arms. He paused in his tracks, staring in confusion at the sight of Wrecker dangling his daughter upside down by her ankle.

“What are you doing?” Tech asked, glancing at the poorly fashioned row of family-sized tents. “Is this what you’ve been doing for the past hour?”

“Hey, Uncle Tech,” Olive grinned, waving.

“Hello, Olive Oil,” Tech responded plainly, his nickname causing Wrecker to bark out a laugh. “May I ask what you are currently doing?”

Olive smirked.

“Just hanging.”

Wrecker proudly cheered, lowering his hand down for Olive to give it a hearty slap. “Haha, that’s my girl!”

Tech shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lyra watched him with a peculiar gaze and slapped her tiny hand from his face, giving his nose a sympathetic pat. Tech gave her an odd look before realizing why she seemed so concerned. “Oh no, ladybug, I’m not injuring myself-”

“Uncle Tech?” Olive called as she dangled. “Can you tell dad with really smart words that I’m stronger than him?”

Tech pushed up his goggles up the bridge of his nose, making Lyra giggle and babble. “Shall I tell the truth or offer a fabrication?"

“Fabrication the heck out of it.”

“Then yes,” Tech pointedly muttered, shaking his head. “You are somewhat stronger than your father, Olive. Now Wrecker, would you please put your offspring down so that she may watch Lyra? I refuse to let my daughter sleep in a haphazard contraption like the one you’ve just made.”

Wrecker frowned. “If you wanted a mansion, then why don’t you do it, Tech?”

“Fine,” Tech shrugged, nonchalantly turning around to find his baby carrier, leaving Wrecker and Olive back to their previous dilemma.

“Hey, daddy?”

Wrecker glanced down at Olive. “Yeah, squirt?”

“I give up,” she whined. “You’re stronger than me. Now can you put me down? I think I’m gonna throwed up.”

“Shoot, right. Sorry.”

Echo stared up into the Marauder with his hand on his hip, scomp arm tapping impatiently against the edge of the ramp. He waited while deafening clatters echoed from the ship’s interior, followed by mischievous giggles and hushes.

“Quinn?” Echo called gruffly, furrowing his brows in frustration. “Sky? Are you two doing what I asked you to do or are you messing around again?”

“We’re still looking for the marshmallow sticks, dad!”

“Quinn found some cool blasters-”

Echo paled. “N-no! How did you- that locker was locked-!”

“Echo,” Tech called as he walked up to the ship, “Are the twins inside?”

With reluctance, he nodded. “I sent them to get the marshmallow sticks twenty minutes ago and they haven’t come out yet.”

“And you didn’t consider checking on them?”

“I was setting up the campfire!”

Tech glanced down when Lyra babbled and offered his finger with a wiggle. She grabbed it with eager hands, chewing with teething gums while he nonchalantly peered up into the Marauder. His ship. If Echo’s troublemakers were in there alone, he could understand Echo’s reluctance to go inside. Anything could’ve been hiding beyond the doorway from a prank to a total mess.

“Sky? Quinn?” He called, his tone tilting towards a warning. “You are aware that you are on my ship, correct? If I go up there and find something I will not like, you better believe that I will lock you in the storage compartment for the entire trip home.”

Panicked shuffles echoed before two heads popped out from around the corner. Sky giggled, nervously chewing on his nails. Quinn gave his father a grin.

At that moment, the two looked far too identical to him and Fives in their early days.

“We have a surprise for you,” Sky sang.

Echo immediately groaned, placing his hands on his face. “Sky-”

“It’s not bad, buir,” Quinn assured, sharing a smile with his brother. “We promise. right, Sky?”

“Right, Quinn.”

Lyra squealed while Tech and Echo both shared an unconvinced look.

“Ta-da!”

The two jumped out from behind the doorway, holding up Echo’s scomp tool case. Under normal conditions, it would’ve been charcoal gray and cleaner than a freshly bathed newborn. Now, it was painted blue and covered in stickers of stars and old republic symbols. They even drew a stick figure of their entire family: cousins and spouses included.

Echo slowly lowered his hand from his face, arching his brows with an impressed smile.

“You got into the paint and did that in twenty minutes?”

The 12-year-olds both nodded in unison.

“Yup-yup.”

“Yeah!”

He cocked his head, smiling. “Not bad. Fives and I would’ve done it in ten.”

Quinn rocked his head back, groaning while he retreated back into the ship. Sky placed his hands on his hips, raised his nose in the air, and smartly chided, “We got it, dad. We’ll surprise you someday.”

Echo crossed his arms, huffing a chuckle. “I doubt it. Now can you please find the marshmallow sticks and lanterns before we start making s’mores at bedtime?”

“That’s the best time!”

“Yeah, dad, the best!”

Twigs crunched as Hunter approached the ship, holding sleepy Kai’s small hand. When he saw the collection of fathers standing at the foot of the ramp, he pinched his brows in suspicion and tilted his head to peek into the ship.

“The twins?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Yeah.”

Hunter nodded, “Huh. Well, could they give me Kai’s headphones and blanket?”

“I need Lyra’s carrier as well,” Tech added.

As if telepathic, the twins stuck their heads out at the same time and said, “Coming right up!”

Not a moment later, Quinn came running down the ramp with Lyra’s carrier in hand while Sky followed a bit slower, careful to keep himself from tripping on his newly healed ankle. Echo took the headphones and blankets out of Sky’s arms and handed them to Hunter, giving Sky a slightly subtle look of warning when he frowned.

“My ankle’s not broken anymore, buir,” he muttered, too embarrassed to talk about his injury. “It’s fine.”

“Sure it is, but I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Echo placed his hand on Sky's head, giving him a small smile while brushing his unkempt hair out of his face. “We can’t both be accident-prone.”

A deafening thunk echoed from within the ship and the two turned, glancing up as Quinn slowly stumbled into the Marauder’s doorway. His hair was sticking up in all directions, clothes disheveled as if he just braved a storm.

On one hand, he had his fist clenched around a copious amount of metal marshmallow sticks.

On the other, it seemed he had also managed to lose a tooth in the process, causing him to grin widely.

“It’s a HUGE one, dad!”

Sky looked up at his father with a snarky grin.

“Looks like we’re all accident-prone like you, dad.”

Echo just palmed his face and sighed.

”Quinn, come here and let me see which one got knocked out…”

“Is this a good stick, daddy?”

Zion held up a thin little piece, big eyes honing on his father like two beams of pure pressure. His gray-haired mini looked so hopeful that Crosshair had no choice but to nod his head in approval and take it, adding it to the pile under his arm. “Yup, that’s a good stick.”

He felt a tug on his jacket and glanced down at the little girl on his opposite side.

“How ‘bout this, daddy?” She asked with a soft voice, causing Crosshair’s heart to swell. Little Zoya held up her own twig with a hopeful gaze and Crosshair nodded yet again, finding it impossibly hard to deny her. He added it to the wood pile before continuing toward their campsite, glancing left and right to keep an eye on his six-year-old twins.

They toddled along beside him like sheep flanking a wolf, gleeful grins and smiles on their faces while crosshair had his typical deadpan stare. While he carried the wood in his arms, Zion and Zoya did their best to contribute, helping their father like perfect little gray-haired soldiers. Zoya added twigs and sticks while Zion just looked around, gazing over nature like he was truly soaking it all in.

“Daddy, I'm tired,” Zoya whined, pausing by a boulder to rub her knees. “My feets hurt.”

Crosshair stopped walking, arching his brow at her. “You don’t want to walk anymore?”

She shook her head and he nodded in understanding. Lowering the wood to the floor, Crosshair crouched and offered his back for Zoya to climb up. Jumping on him with a giggle, she dangled her legs over his shoulder and placed her chin on his head before he picked up the wood and stood.

Zoya yelped when she saw how high up off the ground she was. glancing over at Zion, she called his name loudly, “Zion! Look! I’m a giant like daddy.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes muttering under his breath, “I’m not like the trees, adi’ka. I’m average… maybe a bit above… actually, pretty above if we’re talking about Hunter, too.”

Zoya giggled softly, her angelic voice causing him to huff a chuckle.

“Uncle Hunter is small.”

“Oh yes, he is,” Crosshair smirked, “And if he asks you where you heard that, what are you going to tell him?”

“That ba’vodu Wrecker told me.”

Crosshair smirked, nodding his head. “Atta girl.”

When he heard nothing but silence from his son, Crosshair glanced at Zion as he graced his hand across the flowers and stopped to smell the wild lavender.

“You ok, kid?” He asked, arching his brows when Zion looked at him. The grey-haired boy nodded and they shared a small smile.

“I want marshmallows,” he chirped, causing Zoya to gasp from atop Crosshair’s shoulders.

“Me too!”

Crosshair nodded. “Okay. Anything else?”

“And hot chocolate?” She questioned curiously, making Crosshair’s eyes narrow. The moment he looked over and saw Zion’s hopeful eyes, he caved in. Manipulators. “Fine. Just a bit.”

“And cuddles tonight?”

“Of course.”

“And cinnamon squares for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Nope, not that one.”

“Plea-a-a-ase?”

Crosshair grimaced, sighing, “FIne, but that’s it.”

Zoya hummed. “Maybe… story time tonight?’

At this, Zion was by his side in the blink of an eye, clutching Crosshair’s sweater while begging, “Ple-a-a-ase read us The Tiny Tooka tonight.”

“I read you that all the time,” Crosshair muttered. “You need to find a new favorite. That one’s lost its charm.”

“Plea-a-a-a-ase?” They both wined, big eyes from both Zion and Zoya.

With a sigh, Crosshair surrendered.

“FIne… but only this once…”

“RAHHH FOR THE REPUBLIC!”

Olive roared and fired her finger guns at Quinn and Sky before sheathing them on her hips. She turned on her heel and ran, sprinting around the circle of logs surrounding the blazing fire. Sky yodeled out a battle cry as he sprinted after his cousin, leaving Quinn to hobble after them while gasping from laughing too hard.

Echo sat on a log, watching his twins play in the light of the campfire with a faint smile. Memories atop memories flooded his mind when they’d play like this, reminding him of days gone by.

Beside him sat Tech, cradling a swaddled and sleeping Lyra in his arms. She was out like a snuffed light, snoozing in the comfort of being bound by Tech’s own specific wrapping method. She had a little beanie on her head to keep her warm and ear muffs covering her blanketed ears, earning a few endearing looks when he sat down by the fire. He spent a decent amount of time gazing down at her, lovingly tracing his fingertip along her sleeping face while making sure she wasn’t cold.

On the other log sat Hunter and Wrecker. While Wrecker kept an eye out on Olive and Echo’s twins, Hunter held Kai on his lap, keeping his son warm in his own coat. Kai had his sensory headphones and blanket on his lap, leaning his head against Hunter’s chest as he calmly and silently looked into the fire. He was such a quiet little soul that Hunter often wished to see him running around and having fun, but he wouldn’t push it. He enjoyed holding his boy so close to him, especially if kai was in the range of forehead kisses.

The final member of the squad returned to the campfire a bit later than the rest. Crosshair approached with a pile of sticks under his arm and Zoya perched on his shoulders. Zion skipped alongside him with a smile, adding his own tiny pile atop the reserved wood.

Crosshair sat down on a lone log with a sigh, gently dipping his head so that Zoya could slide off his shoulders and into his arms. He set her down beside him while Zion climbed up, the two of them snuggling against Crosshair’s sides with synchronized hums of comfort. He opened his jacket so that they could get in on the warmth, causing his jaw to clench when he felt their cold hands tickle his abdomen. They fell silent, peacefully enjoying the quiet while Quinn, Sky, and Olive all continued running around.

“I don’t get it,” Echo muttered, breaking the silence. “Out of all of you, I get the ones that can’t sit still or stay quiet for one minute.”

As if on cue, Quinn sprinted behind him with blurring speed, running from Olive while she yodeled her own battle cry and chased after him.

Echo sighed, shaking his head.

“Point proven,” Tech muttered, distracted by his little Lyra as she squeaked out a yawn. He was so in love with his little baby that he was oblivious to his brothers’ stares until he glanced up, his smile falling from his lips. “What?”

Wrecker slowly grinned. “Softie.”

“Of course. A child needs a parent with a soft, nurturing nature over an abrasive one.”

“He means you’re like Crosshair,” Hunter chimed in, smirking when Crosshair glared at him. “Soft like butter.”

“I like butter,” Zoya muttered from the shelter of his coat. Crosshair cracked a smile and reached down, curling her gray hair behind her ear.

“I bet you do, sweetheart.”

Zion leaned his head close, smirking. “I don’t.”

He pat his boy’s head, eyes crinkling with fatherly amusement. It was his turn to look up, his smile dropping when he saw the knowing looks on his brothers’ faces.

“Shut it.”

Hunter glanced down when Kai shuffled around on his lap. His adi’ka glanced up at him with tired eyes before looking back at the fire, sighing gently. Glancing toward Echo and Wrecker, Hunter nudged his chin towards the three eldest kids and said, “They should head back now before it gets too late and cold for s'mores. The littles have to check out soon.”

Wrecker nodded. Cupping his mouth, he sucked a big breath in and shouted, “TROOPERS! BACK TO BASE IN 3…2…1-”

Quinn came sprinting out of the shadows only to slide across the log and crash into Echo’s side. His father exhaled a sharp breath just to be hit again when Sky did the same thing, sliding and barrelling straight into Echo. They giggled when he rubbed his sides with a wince.

Olive approached a bit later with her arms full of blankets. She handed them out to Crosshair and the twins, Hunter, then for herself and Wrecker when Tech and the others denied her offer. Throwing the sheet over her head, she snuggled into Wrecker’s side and smiled happily when he threw an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in close.

Echo extended an arm behind him, grabbing the bag of s’mores ingredients and campfire sticks. They were tossed around one by one and by the end of the dispersion, each older child had a marshmallow hanging over the fire. Kai wanted to try it himself but he didn’t like having to blow out his flaming marshmallow, so with his blanket in hand, he wandered over to Olive and climbed in his cousin’s lap. She accepted him with a grin, whispering jokes in his ear as she roasted both of their marshmallows.

Hunter and Wrecker watched them with a smile, catching a bit of Omega within Olive’s caring nature. Hunter’s heart clenched a bit at the fact that she wasn’t there but he couldn’t blame her. Omega had her own life to live, bouncing from planet to planet in her new starship. While they were hunkered down with the littles, she was off exploring and trekking the vast stretches of space.

As he thought of her, he heard a little gray-haired mini come wandering up to him. Little hands climbed and kicked as Zion sat up on the log by Hunter’s side, resting his head against his ba’vodu’s shoulder. Hunter opened his blanket up, allowing the boy to dive under with a giggle. He glanced at Crosshair who watched them with an arched brow, the two sharing an amused smile.

“I don’t understand how you’re his favorite.”

Hunter smirked, tapping his temple. “Intuition. At least we know he doesn’t have your brain.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, causing Zoya to giggle. “Very funny.”

Echo’s twins were energetic as they roasted their marshmallows until they were black. Quinn waved his marshmallow back and forth through the flame while Sky continuously kept pulling it out and inspecting it. The lumps were charred by the time both boys lowered their marshmallows on their crackers, grinning when their hands were covered in a goopy mess.

“This is so yummy, dad,” Quinn groaned, holding up his burnt abomination. “Wanna bite?”

Echo grimaced, shaking his head. “No, I’m okay, bud.”

"Please?”

Sighing, Echo gave in with a reluctant nod. He opened his mouth for Quinn to raise the s’more to his lips. When he bit down, Quinn began laughing at the look on Echo’s face. Soot coated his tongue as he chewed, shaking his head.

“You burnt it.”

“Duh, that’s the best part.”

Sky pulled out his marshmallow and made his little sandwich before taking a bite. He smiled, glancing at Echo with hopeful eyes as he held his own s’more out. Echo obliged, knowing he couldn’t say no. While the s’more was good, his lack of love for sweets won him over. He swallowed thickly and shivered, making both boys laugh.

Without a want or need to make s’mores, Tech continued cradling little Lyra, swaying her from side to side. He lifted his head, watching his brothers and his nephews and nieces, and came up with an idea.

“Wrecker,” he called the storyteller, causing him and Olive to both look up at the same time. “Why don’t you tell them a story? Our first night is coming to an end and it would be best if the children had something to relax them before bed.”

“Oh-oh-oh!” Quinn jumped up, pretending to swing a sword. “Tell us about that Wookie jedi you guys took to Kashyyyk!”

“No-o-o-o,” Sky sourly sang, reaching over to tug his brother back down onto the log. He turned to Crosshair and gave him a devious grin. “Uncle Cross, tell that story about Uncle Cody and the mission you guys went on together when you were impies!”

Crosshair scrunched his nose in distaste. “You’re the only one who likes those stories, sky.”

“Cause they’re cool!”

Olive nudged her dad’s side, causing him to look down at her and the boy in her lap. “What about the time when you had to fight baby Rancor? Or that story about that really creepy monster ship you were on when Auntie Omega was little?”

Zoya whimpered, curling into Crosshair’s side. He frowned, lovingly cupping her cheek when she shivered. “That’s a scary story, Olive," she murmured. "I don’t like it.”

Olive smiled. “Then we’ll pick another one, bean.”

Kai shifted on her lap and looked up, cupping his mouth as he whispered in Olive’s ear. Her eyes brightened and she looked from Hunter to Echo. “Kai wants to hear the story about how you all saved Uncle Echo.”

Zion gasped and sat up in excitement, glancing from Hunter to his father with a grin. Crosshair shrugged a shoulder, offering a small smile when his son jumped down and ran up to him, climbing onto his lap. Zoya instantly followed, seating herself on the other leg. As they snuggled into him and got comfortable, Kai went back to Hunter and held his hands up, gesturing to be picked up. Hunter obliged and brought the boy on his lap, letting Kai’s little arms wrap around his waist while he pressed his cheek to Hunter’s chest.

Gently rocking Lyra from side to side, Tech held the baby in a careful hold and smiled when Sky leaned closer towards him, gazing down at Lyra with stars in his eyes. With a soft finger, Sky poked Lyra’s nose and giggled when she smiled in her sleep. Quinn leaned against Echo’s side, holding his father’s scomp arm in his lap as he absentmindedly scraped away the smudges of dust that stained the metal. Echo kissed his hairline before turning towards his brothers, shrugging, “Fine with me.”

The flickering flames of the campfire danced and swayed in the gentle breeze. The logs crackled and popped, sending showers of sparks up into the sky like tiny shooting stars. The warm glow of the fire cast shadows on the faces of the people gathered around it, their expressions illuminated in the orange light.

Wrecker grinned and scooted closer to the edge of the log, his arm squishing Olive into his side. Zoya and Zion both listened with smiles as they rested against Crosshair’s chest. Hiding under Hunter’s blanket, Kai removed his headphones to hear the story and the crackle of burning wood. Tech’s little Lyra continued sleeping, causing her father to smile at her peaceful state. Echo, Quinn, and Sky shared smiles when their arms tightened around their father's waist – they all had very special reasons to love this story.

Clearing his throat, Wrecker held his arm out in a wide gesture and began his narration in a deep voice.

“It started on Yalbec Prime when we got a comm from your Uncle Cody…”

dad!batch taglist — i'm tagging you lovelies to this request because it's a longer work, unlike the past little drabbles

@moonstrider9904 @lucyysthings @boomtowngirl @babygirlrex0504 @lucyysthings @fossilisedtreeresin @lizartgurl @mrs-grumpysniper @techs-ass @echos-girlfriend @chicknstripz @corona-one @maulslittlemeowmeow @misogirl828 @theclonesdeservebetter @frietiemeloen @pinkiemme @torchbearerkyle @witchklng @ivela3 @kaminocasey @sunflowerrex @nekotaetae @literallydontlook @agenteliix @starqueensthings @fives-lover @jedipoodoo @sleepingsun501

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