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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 13

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: team long-hair Eris or team short-hair?

word count: 6,921

-Part 12- -Part 14-

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“Eris,” you groan weakly, staring at the plate of food set before you.

“Have you made any progress?” He asks absently, not even bothering to look up.

“It’s been three days,” you say, staring at him as you lean back in your seat, head tipping back to try and distract from the rich scent that’s taunting you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, stomach cramping with hunger as you try to think of something other than food. It’s been so long since you’ve had to consciously draw your attention away from starvation, you’re lacking the discipline. Before, it would have been a case of chopping wood, or counting the grains on different floorboards, but now your focus darts about like a crazed sparrow.

For three days he’s withheld food. Three days he’s set you down with a meal. Three days of being instructed to summon something—a spark, of some kind—and you can eat. A day of boredom, a day of listlessness, and now a day filled with ravenous hunger. Again, your stomach rumbles, carving aches through muscle, teeth gritting together.

The room is large—cavernous. A tall window is to your far right, Eris sat at a large desk before it while his pen scratches away on parchment. The great four-poster bed is at your back, with you sat glumly atop the chest at its foot, staring at the plate laden with simple but lovely food. Not even fully out of reach, but entirely off limits. Instead, you attempt to peer beyond, gold and amber flame flickering wildly within the fireplace, burning free of logs, sustained entirely by his magic, constantly chipping away at the steady accumulation of strain so as to keep himself intact.

“How am I supposed to do anything if I don’t have fuel to feed off?” You ask absently, enraptured by the wicked dance of the fire, mind beginning to buzz dully, eyes losing focus. “Show a spark of magic, and you can eat until you’re full,” he replies, glancing at another sheet of paper before redirecting his attention. “This is torture,” you mutter, managing to shoot him a glare, unwilling to shift your body too much in case the aches spear up into your ribs. “What a wonderful life you’ve had,” he murmurs, before neatly scrawling something on a spare sheet. You deepen the intensity of the glare, wishing to cast a tiny spark of his own flame against the stacks of dry, crisp paper.

His pen comes to a halt, and he looks up, peering at a clock on the wall—midday. Perfectly on schedule, he sets the paper to the side, standing fluidly from his desk before reaching for the outer layer he’d discarded on the back of his seat, pulling it on over the width of his shoulders, pulling his hair from between the back of the clothing and his spine. Hair as smooth as silk, coming to his waist, burning like the flames he commands. Your eyes drag back to the fire, heavy and tired.

“Up,” he instructs, walking briskly across the floor, boots lightly scuffing against the boards in sharp, elegant steps. Wearily, you clamber to your feet, following behind him as he leads you on the trip that will take the two of you to the crisp air of the outdoors, appearing not entirely opposite from a jewel-toned painting. A sharp, brutal kind of beauty. Today, it’s all you can do to keep up with him, quietened from hunger, tired from starvation as you walk at his side, entering into the dense forest that surrounds the palace.

“What’s the point of this?” You ask quietly, watching as you take step after step, lightly frosted leaves crumpling beneath your feet. “That’s up to you,” he replies, leading you deeper into the woods, taking a different route from the stroll he’s chosen the past two. “So there isn’t one,” you mutter, shifting as you usually do to walk behind him, simply following the trail of footsteps, one after the other. “If you spent half the time you do sulking actually putting your mind to training, you’d have found something by now,” he returns, keeping up the pace. “So inspiring,” you mumble, wishing to lie down, but the cold bites at your throat with every breath, so you push on.

“What are you here for?” He asks sharply, your ears twitching from the ice in his tone. “You tell me,” you mutter, “you’re the one who’s supposed to know everything, after all.”

“Not quite everything,” he replies wryly, and you can practically imagine the sharpness to his mouth. “You’re here because you wanted to learn how to control your magic.”

“You’re starving me,” you reply, with a little more bite than is appropriate.

You lift your head, staring tiny needles between his broad shoulders, hair soft as silk as it breezes in the wind, matching the fiery ambers and citrine yellows of the brutal landscape, moss like emeralds clinging to the bark of the trees. The forest is so thick you can’t make out its end, and you wonder how deep the trail is going to go before circling back to the palace. You don’t like forests. All manner of things could lurk inside, no longer restricted to wild deer or rabid wolves.

“Funny, that,” he says quietly, a whispered hiss slicing beneath the edge of his words, hairs rising at the back of your neck. “I’m certain you’ve figured the kitchens are nearby, yet you haven’t so much as taken a single step toward them.” A twig snaps in the distance and your skin prickles into gooseflesh. “Nor have you even attempted to pick at the meals you’re given,” he remarks, ignoring the strange sounds in the distance, pulling you deeper into the density of the enchanted forest. “What’s your point?” You ask warily, the back of your neck beginning to itch, feeling an invisible weight licking up your body. Your eyes dart between the trees, but there’s nothing there. Even the noise of other life has dwindled to a stop, you realise, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

“You say you’re starving, yet seem content to remain that way,” he murmurs, absently, moving on silent feet. It’s mildly unsettling how he can move with such stealth. “What are you suggesting? That I just eat the food and lose any sort of motivation to find something?” You reply quietly, subconsciously having lowered your voice to whisper, to avoid being heard. By Something.

“If you understand why your food is being withheld, why are you complaining so frequently?” He murmurs back, the wind dying out, hair resting stilly at his back. “I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in poverty, Eris,” you whisper sharply, “but starvation isn’t an enjoyable pain.”

“An unenjoyable pain suggests the existence of pleasurable pain,” he replies, paces slowing as he peers around the wood. “No wonder you favour the Shadowsinger.”

“What are you talking about?” You sigh exasperatedly, marking a triptych of claw marks on a nearby tree.

But he’s come to a stop, turning preternaturally still, as if frozen in time. So still, he looks like a painting. You wonder briefly how Feyre would choose to render him. You doubt she’d want to paint him at all.

Silence falls thick and heavy. Tension crawling through tendons, threading its way tight through your skeleton, until you’re strung taut, poised to smash like ceramic upon concrete. “Eris?” You whisper, not even a breath, syllables contained within the space of a blink. “What’s happening?” You move to take a step forward, but he holds his hand up, attention remaining forward, piercing into something you’re unable to see, or even smell. Whatever it is, is utterly undetectable to your senses.

And by the moment you can pick it out, it’s already too late.

Hundreds of pounds of weight and muscle slam into you, sending you careening across the ground, the very earth trembling as paws thunder forward, a single arm larger than your whole body. Rock cracks against your spine, and the air is shoved from your lungs. Lips part on ghostly breaths, air rattling in and out as your nails split beneath the pressure of biting into rough stone. Paws shake the ground either side of you, large, ivory tusks curling around a blunt snout, snorting and huffing hot breath in moist tendrils.

Sweat beads on your brow, wide eyes locking with wild aggression, a bellowing roar whipping the hair away from your face with the force of its fury. The beast rears, pushing up onto its hind legs, front paws peddling forward in the air, watery sunlight glinting off steel-like claws, poised to shred down on you.

Hands rise without a second thought, as simple as breathing, and for a fraction of a second, the wall on your power cracks. Shorter than a breath, quicker than a blink, pure magic detonates through the forest, a wave of searing heat blazing through your skin as the pulse finds the beast, knocking thick trunks down as it goes. Wood splinters, earth raining down from the sky, twigs and sticks and logs smashing into the ground, crunching upon rock. Snapping like bone.

You stare with wide eyes at the creature, an awful screaming sound coming from its lungs, paws strung taut and kicking wildly, as if attempting to run. The piercing tang of iron spears through the clearing, clumps of fur falling loosely, slabs of skin sliding off its still-kicking carcass. The squealing dies to choked splutters, wet crunches sounding with each breath as the body pulses weakly, heart still pumping as blood leaks from skinned muscle.

The tubes of your stomach spasm, clenching and retching, trying to haul something up but you’re utterly empty. Eris isn’t as fortunate. While saliva drips from your lips, thick and slimy, he’s upending everything just behind a tree, as if having lost control of his own body. Deep, spasming breaths hiccup in and out of you wetly, needing something to regurgitate.

Already you can feel that burning heat singe at your flesh, sizzling just beneath the surface, flushing beneath your clothes as if sat directly before a bonfire. Perhaps even inside one. A sharp pain pierces through your lungs, feeling as if a needle is pressing into your side with each inhale, having to quickly shallow the breaths. Aches blossom through your temples, colours growing in intensity, parts of your vision looking as if someone burn a hole in them, lids feeling like they’re made of stone, so heavy and tired.

The sickening tang of iron is the last thing you remember before collapsing forward, exhausted from the volatility of the detonation, feeling blessed to be being swept under so promptly. Provided with such a swift relief from the pain.

————

The smell of pleasantly flaky pastries wafts from beneath your door, bringing with it the sweetness of cream and berries, apparently a breakfast favourite, here.

Bleary eyes crack open, aches thudding dully across your forehead, just above your brows. The room is a little hazy, white spots dancing, the edges of your vision blurred with strange colours, as if you’ve stared directly into the sun for too long. Foot steps pass somewhere through a wall, and you try to blink dully, but your skin is itching, the dimensions of your chamber shifting with each breath, nausea fluttering up your throat.

Wilfully, you close your eyes, once again passing over into unconsciousness.

————

You’re pulled up into the world by pain, a sharp spear piercing through your chest, tiny needles flung carelessly into your anatomy then closed in, so you have to live with the prickling pain creeping beneath every movement. Skin is damp with dew and the clothes stick to your body, rising and falling with every breath, a chill icing across your torso.

The door swings open silently, and you blink blearily, struggling to recognise the tall, male figure with hair like the rising sun. Amber eyes pierce into you, and he comes to a stop beside your bed. “You’re awake.”

Your brows knit together tight, the noise sending a pulse of pain through your mind, but you manage to sit up, the blanket pooling around your stomach. “What happened?” You mumble, pressing the length of your cold fingers to join across the hollow of your eyes. He sits down in a chair you hadn’t noticed, nor remember, resting his arms atop the supports either side. “What do you remember?”

“I remember the forest…” you murmur, brows still pulled tight, but the aches are beginning to recede. “And…being hungry again. And…we were walking…then everything went quiet…” You close your eyes, tugging at the memories, but the pathing seems to fade into nothing. “There was…something…” Hands press over your face, rubbing either side the bridge of your nose, digging deeper.

The eruption hits you all over again, fresh shock washing through your body like you’ve been thrown into an icy river in the middle of winter. You inhale sharply, air pinching at your lungs, coughing. Pressure throbs through your mind with the force, before retreating gently, slinking back into the darkness where it came from.

“It should come easier to you now,” he says, breaking the buzzing silence. “What will?” You ask groggily, deciding to keep your eyes closed for a little longer. “Your magic,” he reminds.

You stiffen, listening to the heavy thud of your heart against your ribs.

“I’m not doing that again,” you whisper, hands still pressed over your brows, as if able to lock yourself up away from the world. To keep it at bay so you don’t have to continue living through it. Content to reside peacefully away from everything, quiet and alone. In your own safety. “I’m—… I can’t.”

Your heart continues its dull thud, quiet stretching between you, feeling like a chasm slowly stretching wider, and wider, until you can hardly see him at all.

“You should eat,” he says at last. “It’s been four days since you last had a meal. You’ll feel sick for a bit, but it will help.” You swallow dryly, prying your tongue from your teeth. The last thing you want to do right now is eat. Eris sighs, standing from the seat. “Wash too. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.” He turns, heading for the door on silent feet.

“Did you ever experience this?” You ask hoarsely, not looking up—you know he’s heard. Eris pauses at the threshold, and you wait in a whirlpool of silence. “Only a few times,” he replies quietly, “but my magic is different from yours. It will react in different ways.”

You don’t have to hear the door close to know he’s left after that, and you spend an unknown amount of time marinating in the sheets. Thoughts buzzing dully, your mind feeling as the air does before a storm.

Static, and prone to sparking.

————

You manage to clean yourself up easily enough once the shaking subsides. There’s still a slight ache whenever you move your eyes too sharply, but you’re working around it. A spare set of sheets is in the small closet at the foot of the bed, and you feel better once they’re changed. But then it’s the task of eating, and you feel worse from the thought alone. He’d said you would feel better, and you know you will, but that’s hard to get through when you feel on the verge of upending your stomach on the floor.

Slowly, one small mouthful at a time, waiting periods in between to make sure you won’t bring it back up, you manage to get through most of the meal. The small chunks of meat had been the most difficult, now not only charged with memories from the hut, but also from furry flesh sliding… You push the thought away. You had done that. You’d taken its life. Had Feyre ever felt that sense of dirt beneath her nails? Palms now not only itching, but lightly tingling too, as if you’ve rubbed your hands through tree sap, and now they’re clogged and sticky.

Eris finds you again in the evening, in better condition, with a little life in your eyes. He marks the now empty plate, something flickering through his gaze, but you don’t pay enough attention to it to figure what it is. “Feeling better?” He asks shortly, sitting in the chair, and you shift the volume from your lap. “A bit,” you concede, sat cross-legged on the mattress, clean sheets pulled over your lap politely. He nods to the book, “bored out of your mind yet?”

“Only by your charming company,” you reply, forcing your lips to quirk at the edges, desperate to rediscover that familiar rhythm between you. Where you can forget some things for a bit, and float through time peacefully.

His brows narrow, but his eyes glint. “You clearly could have gone longer without the meal,” he says, displeasure in his tone that has your lips quirking further. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“What do you mean next time?” You ask warily, leaning back into the wall, pulling the sheets higher around your waist. He rolls his eyes, and you’re surprised by how familiar the gesture is; how normal. You wonder if he’s doing it intentionally. “Your control is incredibly poor,” he remarks. “It’s almost as if I don’t have any, and this is something entirely new to me,” you mutter, reaching for the book. He gives you a pointed look, and you stiffen, realising you walked into that one.

“I’m not going back into those woods again,” you say cautiously, eyeing him, feeling the comforting weight of the volume in your lap. All that knowledge, condensed into paper and writing. The edges of his mouth sharpen, and wariness intensifies in your stomach. “I think you’ll much prefer the new approach,” he concedes, leaning back in the chair, body relaxed as he watches you. “And what is your new approach?” You ask, already looking nervous, worry etched into your features. “I don’t know if you remember our first polite conversation,” he muses, “but you became rather animated over that little orrery.”

“I remember…” you reply, frowning at him. What does that have to do with anything? “So we’ll try evoking your magic through positive emotion, rather than through fear, or withholding a vital ingredient.”

“At least you’re aware of what you were doing,” you reply dryly, grimacing as you remember the cramps that had twisted through your stomach.

His eyes slide over you analytically, and you try to shy further into the wall, imaginary hackles rising. “Do you have some more…appropriate attire?” He asks, and you scowl at him hard. “For what?” The answer is probably no either way. “For being within the public eye,” he elaborates, as if it’s obvious. “You can’t be out and about in the clothes you’ve donned these past days.” You bite back your reply, having not thought anything wrong with them. They’re modest, well-fitted, and warm.

They’re probably lacking diamonds dripping from the sleeves, knowing him.

“I’ll take that as a no?” Eris remarks, noting the sullen set of your mouth. He sighs, “understandable. I shouldn’t have expected you to have the foresight to plan for this.” Your lips part, brows pulled together as you stare with disbelieving outrage. “You’re much more likeable when you’re not talking. Maybe try it more often,” he adds when you’re unable to form a response, a gleam in his eyes. You blink, shaking your head slightly. “Just adding insult to injury…” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “I could have died to that creature, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No thanks to you.” An unnervingly amused expression relaxes his features, lips softening at their sharp edges. “No thanks to me indeed,” he remarks quietly. “You fought for your own life. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he croons, a faint glint in his amber eyes.

Your features shift, swirling from mild irritation to quiet loss. Brow curled in the centre of your forehead almost imperceptibly as the words register across your skin. Shoulders slump, breath floating away, spine sloping against the wall, peering at your hands in your lap, crumbling and lumpy. “I didn’t, either,” you murmur. So softly he almost doesn’t catch it. But he sees the way you’re looking at your palms, a mix of disgust, and wariness.

“I wanted to live,” you whisper, brows furrowed. And it’s the look of doubtful perplex that has him pulling his eyes away.

“You sound surprised,” he says quietly, after recollecting himself. But you shake your head dully, still watching your hands. “After living with it for so long…” you say, “being on the verge of it for years…” You trail off, leaving him wondering what marks it might have left below your skin.

You clear your throat, looking up but not quite able to meet his eye. “What happened? To the…the creature?”

“I had it burned,” he replies simply.

“Was it…had it died quickly?” You ask softly. Amber eyes mark the slight tremors in your fingertips, the room still save for the tremble of your hands.

“Yes,” he answers, able to hear the whisper of breath that leaves your chest. The faint look of guilty relief in your expression.

It doesn’t for a second cross your mind he could have lied.

An untruth would serve him no benefit.

————

For the first time in a long time, a curse sits on the tip of your tongue.

“Have you changed?” Eris asks, boredom heavy in his tone. “I’m not wearing this,” you whisper hoarsely, staring at the way the riding trousers grip to your legs, curving in at your waist, wrapped around your calves. You don’t even dare look at yourself from behind.

The iron rings hiss as he pulls the curtain back, and you spin around, stumbling back into the mirror. “Eris. Get out.” He raises a brow at the sharp tone, mildly surprised by the abrupt venom, but he knows you’re harmless. For now.

“They fit perfectly,” he states, features remaining in a bland but analytical set. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you—? They’re trousers,” you hiss, already searching for something to pull over yourself. “I don’t care how many wonderful things might await me, I will not wear these things.”

“There are a plethora of other subjects for you to work yourself up over, and yet you choose this one,” he muses, and you press yourself tighter to the mirror. “Get out.”

He offers a skeptical look, and your brows narrow, skin beginning to crawl. You feel so bare. So on display. The shapes of handprints begin to itch over your hind, and pressure builds at the forefront of your head, between your brows. “I’m serious. Get out.” Eris regards you quietly for a moment, head angled slightly as he observes, before turning for the exit. “I suppose the colour doesn’t quite suit you,” he says idly. “Next one.”

The curtains again hiss shut, and you ply your lungs apart with oxygen. Heart racing in your chest. Heat builds behind your eyes, but you push it back if only to ward against the painful prickling sensation it brings forward. With shaky fingers, you manage to push the rigid material down your thighs, folding them neatly and discarding the shirt that had been set out with it. Swiftly moving to the next piece. With some conscious effort, you’re able to shift your mind to what lies ahead: he’d mentioned attempting to stimulate your magic through positive emotions rather than fear, which had your interest piqued. Though part of you worries what he might think of as worthy of positive emotion.

The itch to your skin hasn’t quite faded, and your hands have gotten worse since the forest. Bumps are more pronounced on the tops of your knuckles, scabbed over but still raw. The pressure in your head has again receded, but remains, throbbing lightly whenever you raise or lower your head. To make everything unimaginably worse, you’d spotted the beginnings of your cycle this morning, and had nearly cried. You’d secretly hoped the amount of strain your magic has been putting on your body would be enough to relieve the horror, but it seems not. You’d also found more than a few bruises littering your skin, but those will hopefully be healed and gone by the day’s end—they’re only light from when you’d hit the rock.

Thinking back on it, you’re surprised no bones were broken.

“Do you make a game out of taking years to change, or are you simply that slow?”

Your demeanour instantly drops further, a scowl settling between your brows. You finish tying the bodice up, then walk to the curtain, gently pulling one aside. “I’d like to see you attempt to tie yourself up in one of these dresses,” you mutter, arms automatically folding self-consciously across your torso, one hand wrapped over your waist, the other settled below your shoulder. “There are too many strings to do up.” “Turn around,” he says, ignoring you completely.

Pulling back on the scowl, you turn in a circle. “Saying a please or a thank you every so often wouldn’t turn you to stone, you know,” you remark as you move, eventually having gone full circle. “Is this one good enough, your sourness?” You ask, dipping into a provoking curtsey.

His lips remain pressed in a disapproving line, but his eyes gleam. “It’ll do.”

————

You’d been folding your previous clothes back into your small closet, wondering about where he was about to take you. Curiosity wandering through your mind. If he tries to take you so much as a step towards that forest again…

You close the doors softly, turning for the door, going to meet him when your eyes pass over the small desk, pushed tight to the walls. Just beside the volume sits the small, deep blue gift box. You pause, gaze shifting from the door to the desk. Fingers raise to thumb at your earlobes, stroking absently.

Before you can doubt yourself, you walk over to the box, opening it up, peering down at the pair of earrings, understated but refined. Plain, generic jewellery.

You slide the gold in, pearl droplets hanging pretty from delicately pointed ears.

Again, fingers skate over your lobes, this time pierced and weighted. It’s probably the only time you’ll feel brave enough to wear them. A dull ache rubs through your heart, but you push it away, hands falling to your sides as you walk briskly for the exit, out to find Eris.

Leaving the small box open and gutted on the desk.

————

It’s about three in the afternoon, and the crisp breeze cools your skin, playing about your hair and fluttering across the fabric of the dress. Luckily, most of the finely sewn material is concealed by a an earthy orange cloak, dusty but warm coloured. A few wisps of hair tickle the edges of your mouth, and you push them away irritably, wishing to pin it back. You wish his hair bothered him the way yours does.

“Is there anywhere in particular I’m being taken, or is this another mindless stroll?” You inquire, keeping a step or two behind him, trailing along as you peer at the stalls, set up in the courtyard of the palace. “None of the walks have been thoughtless,” he corrects, keeping on his leisurely path, “there are a few things I’m in need of, but you should be looking about on your own.”

“What do you mean ‘looking about on my own’?” You ask, brows furrowing lightly.

“I don’t know what you like,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. You blink, then nod, mostly to yourself. “Right.”

“You do know what you like, don’t you?” He asks seriously, glancing at you briefly from over his shoulder. “Of course I know what I like,” you return, meeting his piercing gaze. “Do you? Or are you always so busy with work you have no time for fun?”

“You have interests in things that serve yourself?” He redirects, skepticism more prominent than before as he makes his way effortlessly through the people. “Nothing that might benefit that family of yours?”

“They’re as much family to me as you are with yours,” you reply thoughtlessly, not a single beat passing.

The words register in your mind, at once tasting foul and horrid. How ungrateful you sound, guilt beating against your still-bruised flesh. Shame heats your skin, eyes drifting down to the neat cobbles. You hadn’t meant that. “I mean…family’s a particular word,” you mumble, pearls hanging heavy from your lobes. Thumbs brush over them—should you even be wearing such a gift? Thoughtless, perhaps…potentially intended. Holding great beauty, while plain and generic. Are you worthy of that?

“You seem to assume I am not close with my own,” he speculates idly, perhaps with more lightness than you’re accustomed to. You suppose you don’t spend much time around people…maybe the differences stand out more because of that. Less habits to familiarise and attune yourself to.

You swallow, gaze skipping to dance over stools: herbs and spices, dried plants and trinkets, small glass bottles filled with gem-coloured liquids, tiny circular things that look like they’d taste sweet, gleaming jewels that wink up at passersby, thread so thin it’s like hair or cobweb. A jewellers stand catches your eye, not through the nature of the craftsmanship, which is admittedly fine, but the table holds a modest assortment of rings, and you’re for some reason reminded of the ones Rhys sometimes adorns his hands with. Wrought in sterling silver, small details welded to the solid bands, showcasing its sturdiness and elegance simultaneously. Like dancers.

Silver flickers at the back of your mind before vanishing, hastily doused before second-thoughts begin swarming.

“Are you?” You inquire with equal lightness.

“They are my family,” he says, “proximity won’t change that.”

A natural quiet settles between you, filled only by the background chatter of other voices, other people with their own lives; their own victories and losses. Other problems, with or without solutions, continuing on with life, because times is ceaseless and everlasting, ticking by coldly, peacefully, sometimes with devastating fluidity, others with painful leisure. Perhaps it’s not time at fault, but yourself. Time isn’t cruel, nor is it kind, it simply exists as it is, unable to deviate from what it started as and unable to shift from what it will become; what it will remain to be. Time is a precious constant, one of the few certainties that will persist no matter what.

The sun will rise and fall, as will the moon. The stars will move through the sky as the planet spins, and life will continue with much more grandeur than such small, short things should acquire. Even immortality will crumble before time—your kind of immortality at least. Endlessly, consistently living, until life is taken away.

You had thought you’d made peace with your mortality as a human, yet you suppose each day you still got up with your sisters, still washed and spoke and persisted, still set one foot in front of the other, even if you weren’t conscious of it. Then the other day something like a drop opened up in your path, something that would require more than one foot in front of the other, and you had found yourself jumping.

You had not walked off that ledge; one foot in front of the other hadn’t sufficed.

For less than a minute, the desire to be had been brimming from your fingertips, glowing through your skin and filling you to the point of overflowing. For little less than sixty seconds, you had been confronted with an end, and had moved accordingly. For a few brief moments, absence had loomed before you, dark and terrifying, and you had no want for it.

Where does that put you?

You’d been thrown into a river, and found yourself swimming.

For what?

What was it for?

Peace had been made, acceptance reached, yet sparks had flown, and another life had been taken in place of yours.

Your eyes raise to the sunset orange of his hair, the broad shoulders, the assured and unfaltering strides that carry him forward. The doubtless weight of steel that is set at his hip, the fire that burns in his veins, pure and hot, the sharpened blades that sit readily on his tongue, protected on all fronts. Strength incarnate.

“For someone without flames to harness, you’re burning a hole in the back of my neck fairly well.”

You blink, pulled away from the conflicting whirlpool of thoughts, unaware of the intensity you’d been regarding him with. “I zoned out,” you mumble, attention shifting to the tall walls rising on either side, and you realise he’s led you away from the marketplace. “Where are we going now?” You ask, at last noting the faded noises of other people, now only distant drones. “I told you there are things I am in need of,” he repeats, not looking back, forging onward, so certain the world will not fall out from under his feet. “And these things are down a dark, suspiciously quiet alley?” You ask skeptically, speeding your paces, remaining less than a step behind him. “One of them is,” he answers, leaving it there.

Wariness settles across your bones, eyeing him doubtfully, but continuing on his heel. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, so you might as well stick with him, within the realms of relative safety.

Eris turns another corner, narrower than the last street, and you even out your breaths. Nobody would do shady exchanges at three in the afternoon. Right?

Doubt unspools in your stomach as you come upon a door in the wall, one that he enters without knocking, and you keep close in the now dim light, a latch clicking behind you. While there is no obvious difference, you get the distinct sense there’s a decline in the pathway, leading deeper into the ground until the tunnel-like walkway opens into a room, lit by flaming braziers. Few things are held within the room, as if constantly on the move and requiring the ability to make an easy exit, should it be needed.

The exchange is over and done with swiftly, a fluid passing of a weighted pouch with a small box, one that Eris pockets seamlessly, turning and leaving without a word being spoken, not even a nod of recognition before you’re following him out again, the hair at the nape of your neck rising with wariness at the strange sequence of events.

Sound returns when you walk out into the air, less menacing than before, open and inviting with its refreshingly crisp bite, and it reminds you slightly of the fresh air of Velaris—its cool nippiness that washes through lungs to pump its users full of freshened life. Life people are desperate to live, taking breath after breath, hauling it down obsessively.

You suppose even if your held your breath, you would eventually find yourself fighting for it, your own choice or not.

Again, your attention drifts to his back, assured and certain. Steady and secure.

Knowingly or not, questions have been sparked within you, questions you’d prefer to understand before being knocked from the world. Questions that will require action on your own part, no longer sitting passively but searching—not in the way you had in the libraries, nor in the ways when you had been trying to summon your magic back in the House of Wind. It would require a fundamental shift in your outlook, one that had only begun to take root in your mind after years of dull buzzing. You’ve always had a fondness for them: questions. Answered or not, the act of seeking more, searching for more is beloved by you. It’s a skill you’ve been practicing, training, sharpening unknowingly but consistently throughout your life. And now, the intrigue and fondness for learning, the desire to understand and develop will now be harnessed inward, the intent aimed at yourself, poised to unravel, learn, and discover.

All over the simple yet surprising act of defence—to protect and preserve. The fight to continue. Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. The relentless push of life itself. Aware or otherwise, he’s started you down a new road, one that will likely wind and divert, but it’s your duty to stay on track and not fumble.

It’s enough your steps falter, pausing as the market place once again comes into view.

“You said I should be looking about on my own,” you say, not quite a question, but lacking the certainty of a statement. Eris glances over his shoulder, coming to a stop. “If you’d like,” he answers blandly, but you’re too preoccupied by the hurtling path of your own thoughts to wonder at the tone. “There was a stall that caught my eye,” you say cautiously, unsure of what’s coming out of your mouth.

He nods, eyes raising far above, where a large clocktower gazes down upon the courtyard. “Be back here in twenty minutes,” he replies, and you nod, already searching for the way you’d come. “And for the gods’ sake, don’t blow anything up,” he mutters under his breath, just as you pass by.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. No footsteps to follow after.

Pushing forward on your own. Seeking what you want.

Gold and pearl hanging heavy from your lobes.

Too heavy.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #cbmthy

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lilac-5ky · 1 year

Text

Father's Day (Toji xFem!Reader)

Summary: It's father's day and you forgot to get Toji his gift.

Tags: dilf Toji, babysitter reader, secret relationship, age gap (reader early 20s, Toji early 30s), daddy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, spanking, mating press, mention of doggy style, cumplay, blowjob, gagging, deep throating, creampie, heavy usage of pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, slut, etc), soft!dom Toji being a condescending piece of shit, Megumi being an absolute angel, hope i'm not forgetting anything, pls don't murder me.

Word Count: 4.3k divided between fluff and smut.

“That’s it, Megs! You did so well today!” You smiled, giving the boy’s spikes a little affectionate ruffle. “I’m sure your dad will be so happy to see how hard you worked on his gift.”

“Liar.” Megumi put the glue stick face-down against the table. “It’s not as good as the ones you make, Y/N.”

“That’s because I’ve put years into it, you know? When you get older, I’m sure you’ll be the one teaching me.” You promised, holding his drawing toward the light.

The pasta on the paper depicted the face of a silly-looking man; chopped lasagna for his dark hair, spinach-flavored shells for his green eyes, penne for the jagged scar on his fusilli lips, and broken spaghetti to help frame the sharp edges of his chiseled jaw. The inscription “World’s Best Dad” was written at the bottom corner by yours truly, Megumi being too young to know the proper spelling.

Admittedly, it looked nothing like Toji, but even if you got the man himself to pose for your DIY project, you doubted you’d get any closer to capturing his charms. At least it resembled a human being, and that was the core difference between based on and loosely inspired by.

Megumi jumped from his stool and waved his hands before you, his fingers stuck together as if he were a duckling. You chuckled, meaning to settle the drawing on the table so you could escort him to the bathroom when you heard keys twisting in the door lock.

“Quick, go wash your hands and I’ll take care of your daddy, okay?”

Megumi nodded, dashing upstairs in seconds while you browsed the kitchen for a hiding spot, panicking as a couple of macaroni were chipped off. You grabbed the glue and hastily pieced them back in place, but it was too late. A pair of strong arms snaked around your waist, pressing you flush against an unmovable wall of muscle.

“T-Toji!”

Your yelp was silenced by his lips, hungry from having to spend an entire day filling forms and sorting mail at a work he despised with every inch of his being— some of those very inches poking against your ass as his hips bucked into yours almost possessively. Coming home to the cute little babysitter he’d made his girlfriend was everything he needed to recharge his batteries.

“Meg-gu…mi will see us,” you panted in between heated kisses, trying and mostly failing to defend your body from his greedy palms diving into your shorts.

He felt your skin flare up, so sensitive for him even after countless days of the same ritual. His index pried beneath your panties —the lacy ones he’d gotten you for your birthday— to meet with your pussy’s puffy lips, gliding across the gathering slick as if he meant to say “Hello”. His thumb rubbed a rough circle over your clit, giving the nub a few teasing flicks that were enough for you to arch your back against his chest, a hushed moan bitten into his neck. He chuckled to himself as he retracted his fingers and gingerly licked them one by one.

“Missed ya so much, angel,” Toji coed in a low voice. “Y’always taste sweeter when I’m not around, know that?”

You giggled against his mouth, his tongue eager to share your essence. “How would you know that if you’re away?”

“I just do,” he smiled, putting an end to the unforeseen display of affection with a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Where’s Megumi?” he searched through the space.

You moved in accordance with his eyes, swaying left and right to cover as much of the table as possible. “He’s in the bathroom. Washing his hands for dinner.”

Toji hummed, thumbing his tie loose around his neck. He could hate his job all he wanted, but nothing compared to the sight of seeing Fushiguro Toji in office attire. His sleeves were rolled around his elbows, toned biceps popping under the tight fabric of his white button-up. He paired straight black pants with a plain black belt— nothing impressive on its own until he bent over the lower cabinets to grab himself a glass, and you stole a quick peek at his rare and the impossible way the fabric hugged his—

In any case, you were convinced Toji had somehow missed Megumi’s drawing, his primary interest to fill and then refill his glass with fresh tap water. You seized the chance to transfer his gift to a safer location, though before you could take another step, he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand into play.

He studied his own face harder than your art professors evaluated your semester’s projects, his nose scrunching up at the finer details of his farfalle ears. “That why I pay your tuition for?” He snorted at you snatching the art piece from his hands.

“Better act excited when Megs comes here,” you straightened the creased edges and stored it in an empty drawer. “He’s already doubting his talent.”

“His what?”

He assured you he was just joking when you shot him a mean glare, your voice strict as you ushered him to follow his son’s example while you hurriedly collected the art supplies and replaced them with cutlery.

In no time, the three of you were seated around the table— Megumi on your lap while you cut his pork into bite-sized pieces, and Toji on the other side, wishing that their positions would switch. You swore this man got ten times handsier after you got together, seeking excuses to touch you even in front of his own kid. Megumi had just turned four but at this rate, it wouldn’t take long for such a bright kid to put two and two together.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual (read: one vote for, and another against). There was no reason to disturb Megumi’s routine or throw him off balance. You’d grown fond of the little guy, and with his dad being away 2/3 of the day, you were each other’s only company. No matter how well things with Toji were going, if you suddenly fell apart, the one to hurt the most would be Megumi and you didn’t want that weight on your conscience. Being his number 1 nanny was good enough.

A certain type of silence familiar to the Fushiguro household shrouded dinnertime, with Toji trying to engage Megumi in small talk, and Megumi constantly glancing over his shoulder at you as if you were his designated spokesperson. “Yes, Megumi had a lot of fun today.” “Yes, Megumi ate all of his veggies at lunch, even the icky red peppers.” “No, Megumi knows nothing about the neighbor’s broken window.” The boy was relieved with every blatant lie you told his father, his knees gleefully flapping against your own.

By the time their plates were emptied, your food had gone completely cold, the oil in the curry sauce encasing the cutlet in a greasy coat. You gobbled it up as it was and stacked the plates into a pile that you placed in the sink, signaling for Megumi to come over. You handed him his drawing, encouraged him with two thumbs up, and sent him off to his “unsuspecting” father.

Your lips stretched into a smile as Megumi presented his drawing, mumbling a strained “Happy Father’s Day” under his breath as if he had a gun pointed at his head. So stubborn, though you could definitely see where he took it from, Toji’s reply being an equally stern “Thanks, kiddo”. You rolled your eyes and rushed to the scene, praising a blushing Megumi over his artwork and exaggerating his achievements to Toji who just wouldn’t take a hint. How these two managed to survive by themselves, was a wonder on its own.

Eventually, Toji gave his son a more fatherly rub on the back and hoisted the boy over his shoulders to lead him to his bedroom. Megumi squeaked, planting his tiny fingers into Toji’s hair, and clasped his legs tight around his neck. You remembered a meek confession from a few nights ago, muffled out by the covers and the plush toy over his mouth, as he let you in on how fun mounting his father was, feeling like a real mecha pilot atop his broad shoulders. He could be such a sweet kid when he wanted to. If only he was more vocal with Toji, too.

You watched the two disappear up the stairs and picked the drawing from the table, pinning it in the middle of the fridge for the world to see. You rinsed the pots with hot water and shoved them into the dishwater rack, figuring it’d be best to get as much work done as you could in Toji’s absence.

“This is the last one,” you said once the sound of feet thudding against the stairs became apparent.

You made quick work of the glass, rotating the sponge inside out, while the man leaned against the door frame without saying a thing, content with being a bystander to your impromptu clean-up session. Many a woman passed Toji’s threshold, some older, others younger, and yet you were the first to worry about the state of his bundle-bought glasses. He couldn’t pinpoint what made such a mundane sight endearing to behold, but maybe it was because of the very commonness and familiarity behind it that he hesitated to interrupt.

“Meg’s asleep?” You caught his reflection nodding through the glass, your following questions answered the same way.

“You got him in his pj’s? The blue, not the green ones, right? Got him to brush his teeth? Turned on the night light for him? Gave him his—”

A sigh echoed as he stepped into the space with his hands lost in his pockets. “How d’ya do that?”

“Do what?”

“The kid, the house,” he paused to measure his words, “me. How do you handle all that?”

Your lips pursed into an affectionate simper as you wiped your hands against the towel, looping it around the cabinet’s handle. You turned to face him and lifted your forefinger playfully. “One, the kid happens to have a very attractive father. Two, the house owner himself is sexy as hell, and you? I guess you are pretty easy on the eye.”

“Am I now?” His raspy tone was set on confirming every last impression you had of him, his tongue licking his slanted scar into a smile that was all but coy. “Which one you prefer then? The father, the house owner, or me?”

“Hmm, if I had to pick just one then,” your cheeks burned prior to your admission. “The version of you I get to call daddy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Toji pinched your chin between two fingers, admiring how eagerly your mouth popped open as the pad of his thumb swiped against your bottom lip, pushing slightly in. “Smart girl,” he cooed, feeling out the flat surface of your tongue, hot, warm, and oh-so-perfect when pressed against his cock.

“So what did you get me?” he smeared saliva over your lips, making them all nice and glossy. You stood still, faded eyes caught in the motion of his other palm shamelessly cupping your ass, his question barely registering.

“W-what?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” His fingers dug into the fat of your cheek, a warning in his voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“S-sorry, Toji. Didn’t think I had to—” A light smack cut your sentence in half, the recoil forcing you to drop onto his chest.

“Mm? What is it that y’are sorry for, princess?” He mocked, squeezing your bum against the growing bulge in his pants. Your cunt fluttered in response, clit whining at the little friction he provided. You wanted more. Wanted to feel all of him. The weight of his cock dragging between your folds and soaking in your juices before being plunged inside, every ridge and every line you’d memorized finding their rightful place in a hole that was meant for him.

You bit your lip in brewing anticipation, mustering the courage to look into his hooded green eyes that shared the same lust yours did. “Sorry I didn’t get you a gift, Toji. Should’ve known better.”

His smile softened, head cocking to the side. “Don’t sweat it. My pretty baby knows how to make it up to me, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “How about I gave you a second reason to celebrate today?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you were being lifted into the air, both of Toji’s hands finding purchase in your plushy thighs, while his lips begged to hush whatever mention of Megumi before it was even conceived. He kicked his bedroom door open and shut it with his heel, tossing you against the covers of his made-up bed. (“Why bother if they gonna crinkle anyway?”)

He lost his shirt almost as quickly as he lost his tie, flinging both fabrics over his shoulder. No matter how many times you got to lay eyes on his naked body, you always managed to spot a new scar on his chest from his former lifestyle, the danger it packed serving as an additive to the wanton fantasy of having your guts rearranged by your boss.

Your legs spread quite the sight for him as he tugged off your shorts, your panties sporting a sizable wet spot right at the center. He forced the drenched fabric into your slit, drawing it taut around your hip bone. You moaned softly, mindful of the kid across the hall, while your hips rocked forward, chasing after the finger he pulled away.

“Taking care of my kid ain’t enough for you? Wanna be a real mommy now?” Toji sneered, yanking the belt off his pants.

“I want us to be a real family,” you confessed, bowing to help him with the rest of his clothes. You slid his pants down his briefs and let them drop to his knees, your cheek nuzzling to his clothed cock. You licked a strip over the fabric, thrilled to hear a breath hitch in Toji’s throat. “Let’s give Megs a sibling. One that is half me, and” you paused, wrapping your lips around the imprint of his balls, “half you.”

His cock sprung free the moment you lowered his underwear, the way his fat tip glistened with precum enough to make your mouth water. You wrapped a fist around his length, fingers barely closing around his hefty base, and gave him a languid, thorough pump. He watched intently, keeping all sounds to himself until your lips parted to fit his cock head, stretching around his thick girth.

“Fuck, baby—” Toji hissed, helping your hair out of the way while your throat molded back into his shape. You were taught how to take as much of him in as possible, yet no matter how diligent you were in your practice, you could never fit him whole. You bobbed your head up and down, hand stroking the parts you couldn’t swallow and tongue pitching in the action with sparse kitten licks along his shaft.

His fingers firmly gripped onto your hair, forcing your head to pick up speed as they traveled from your scalp to the back of your head. Your gag reflex protested with each thrust, hot tears gradually pooling in your eyes while you struggled to keep them open.

“Look so fucking good chocking on my dick.” His voice oozed sweetness that matched his stare, a look of utter adoration fluttering behind his pretty eyelashes.

If he thought you were the one to look good, then he should’ve seen himself; messy obsidian strands casting shadows over his darkened eyes, his pink lips agape more often than closed with all the unregulated profanities and praise that spilled out of them, turning up in volume the closer he got to his climax.

You felt him twitch in your mouth, the salty tang drooling down your jaw along with your saliva, though just when you thought he was about to cum, he pulled out, the string of fluids following after him. “Don’t want any of that going to waste, do we?” Toji smirked, pumping his length once or twice before letting go altogether.

He hunched over your body, his knees making the bed dip lower as his lips sought yours, jaw too slack to properly reciprocate. Rough palms slid below your top and ran over your sides, his fingers unhooking your bra with unmatched expertise. He broke the kiss to let you remove your shirt, his hands quick to wrap around your tits and fondle their way toward your nipples. He pinched at them, rolling the peaks between his thumbs until they stiffened.

“Can’t wait for them to get all round and full,” Toji mumbled as he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, suckling so hard that he just might draw milk. He wet it with his tongue, and then turned to the other, repeating the same motion. “Gonna get me addicted if the taste’s half as sweet as your pussy.”

Your fingers clenched into fists around the sheets, the sheer imagery of Toji feasting on your breasts enough to make your legs go weak. He was keen on sharing his fantasies with you, down to every last insignificant detail, but not as keen as he was on fulfilling every single one of them, and this one, was just a matter of time.

“T-Toji,” you said in a breathy voice.

A sexy smirk plastered on his scarred lips as he detached from your nipple with a soft pop. He left your call unanswered, instead spreading your legs further apart and settling in between. You saw him stroke his cock, and soon you felt the leaking head tap on your clothed clit. Only then did he bother to look up, taking stock of the little whines and pretty moans you selfishly withheld.

He couldn’t wait for his next leave to take you someplace nice and quiet, where the sounds of you crying his name at full volume would come in abundance.

“P-please,” you begged, fidgeting a lot more than before.

“Please what?” he played dumb, rubbing his hard cock along your entrance. “Use your words, sweetheart.

“Please f-fuck,” your voice cracked, too frail to handle his games. “Please, fuck me.”

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” his thin eyebrow questioned.

“Please fuck me, daddy.”

Toji smiled slyly to himself, obliging enough to peel the panties away from your twitching cunt. “Don’t want a warm-up first? My girl big enough to take me without any prep?” he asked in a condescending tone, matching every beat of his voice with another slap against your clit. “Or is she that eager to be a mommy? That’s it, right?” he chuckled, your moan not going unregistered.

“You’ve gotten so greedy, Y/N,” he said after a series of little tsks. “Bet you also gonna ask to be my wife soon, huh?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs for a brief, albeit painful second as Toji aligned with your entrance and rammed his cock halfway in, his overwhelming size felt first as a sting in your walls and later as a tremor across your entire body. Even with how wet you were, it still hurt a lot more than your horny self thought it would— though it wouldn’t take long for the pain to melt into pleasure.

You didn’t realize you’d screamed until he hushed you, bending forward to press a sweet peck against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze and gathered your wobbly knees onto his brawny shoulders, refraining to move until you stopped wincing and contorting. “Stay relaxed for me, okay?”

You shook your head and pulled him into a tight embrace, loving the contrast of his hard pecs against your squishy breasts. “Want you close, Toji. Please.”

And how could he possibly refuse when his baby begged him so well?

Your nails began raking at his back as he sunk himself deeper and deeper, the position he’d bent you into making it seem as if there were no limits to how deep his cock could reach before it was buried to the hilt. He stretched you so good, stuffing your pussy full of ecstasy and your mind full of dick as he started to thrust at a steady pace, never deviating from sealing the whimpers in your mouth with sloppy kisses.

“Doing such a good job, angel. Must really want that baby, hah— can feel ya really open up for me.” A calloused hand slid between your bodies and pressed against the tiny bulge in your stomach, appearing and disappearing with each slam of his hips. “Feel that? That’s how deep you’ve taken daddy.”

He dragged his cock out and pounded it back in, his heavy balls slapping hard against your jiggly ass. His hand lowered over your clit, flicking the nub in sync with his frantic thrusts until the coiling tension in your guts snapped, a shuddering orgasm washing over him as much as it washed over you.

“Love you s-so much, Toji,” your fingers slipped onto his neck, gradually hiking up to cup his cheek.

Specks of light glimmered in his eyes as they held your loving stare, the scarred corner of his lip curling into a cocky smirk as if to defy him. “Yeah? Is it me that you love or my cock? Came into my house so I can fuck you g-good, ah?” he stuttered along with his hips. “All that money I gave ya to watch my kid goin’ to that tight-ass pussy?”

“Answer my question, slut,” he insisted.

Your brain was going blank on answers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock found all the right places, hitting every single spot that led into your fertile womb until you were back to writhing below him. “B-both, Toji, fuck love your cock so much ‘s fucking me so well.”

A hand moved over your dampened forehead, swiping your disheveled hair so he could plant a kiss. “Love you too, sweets.”

You felt yourself drowning in love as the squelching grew louder, the four-bedroom walls too thin to contain the sounds of hips snapping against hips and of his husky groans as he closed in on his high a second time. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Gonna—fuck, give my pretty baby all my babies,” Toji grunted, and you repeatedly nodded, cute little sobs severing the chants of his name.

Sharp teeth dug into your neck as Toji buried himself in the crook of your shoulder, his sultry moans reverberating against your skin until they hit their crescendo when his cock began to throb, painting your walls with thick ropes of his creamy load. He slowed down, luscious thrusts shoving his cum further in while you held him close, snaring your legs around his torso.

When he finally lifted his head, you’d both regained a sliver of composure, your pants falling back into rhythm.

“You’ll be such a good mama,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth over the shrewd ringing in your ears.

“Think so?” Your lips stretched into a faint smile that he was quick to kiss.

“You already are the better parent. Kid likes you most. Bust my balls when you have your tests and needa study.”

You chuckled, tracing the outline of his scar with your thumb. “Why do I get the feeling it’s the other way around, hmm?”

A tsk twisted his lips into a scoff as he bit onto your finger. “Ouch! What was that f—”

Your voice faltered as he spun you around; face shoved into the pillows and back forced into an arch while Toji positioned himself behind your ass and dragged his cock between your swollen red folds.

“Don’t tell me you thought we were done here.”

The next morning found all three of you at the starting point of last night’s exploits, Toji sipping on a cup of black coffee and scrolling on his phone, while Megumi quietly sat beside him on the kitchen table, awaiting his breakfast to be served. Your body felt sore all over while you grilled his salmon, sand in the corners of your eyes. Normally, you’d be trying to keep everyone entertained with idle chit-chat, but with how often you yawned, getting a word out demanded serious effort— effort you weren’t prepared to put in.

“Say, Megumi.” Toji took the reins, setting his phone down. “How would you feel about having a new mommy?”

The spatula almost fell into the pan, your objection stifled by Megumi’s voice. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Toji cocked his head curiously, propping his chin onto his palm. “Then ya wouldn’t mind if it was someone you knew?”

“Mister Fushiguro, could you please help me with the fish a bit—” you pleaded through gritted teeth, only to be dismissed with a swift gesture as if you were a housefly.

“I don’t mind having a new mommy, but I don’t want to be a brother,” he declared, stomping his fork against the wood for emphasis. “Never!”

You glanced over your shoulder, first at Toji and then at Megumi, before serving the fish on a plate and kneeling in front of the child. “Why is that, Megs? Don’t you wanna be a big brother to a little sister or a little brother?”

His eyes stubbornly refused to meet with yours, all the while they shot daggers at his father. “Don’t want one if it hurts to make.”

You chuckled, tapping at his knee gently. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you cry last night,” Megumi admitted. “Dad hurt you, didn’t he?”

“That’s not what—”

Toji smirked as he spread his legs apart, preparing himself for the show. “Kinda late for that, buddy. And don’t worry about Y/N. Adults can cry from pleasure, too—”

“Toji!”

And thus, your little house of cards fell apart.

2K notes · View notes

mydearlybeloathed · 10 months

Text

𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (?)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you, now a successful singer, and sanji, now a pirate, reunite unexpectedly when you return to baratie for a one night only performance.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!sanji x fem!singer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use Y/N, zeff is a meddler, mild angst

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

When Sanji woke up that morning, he hadn’t expected a song would be the one to bruise his ego.

It was a relatively normal morning, filled with shuffling around the Going Merry with a pen and pad asking for special grocery requests. It was the usual, for the most part; Zoro wanted alcohol, Luffy asked for lamb, Nami needed brown sugar for something she wanted to make, and Usopp requested chocolate chips.

All a routine order to convince Zeff to hand over, Sanji mused, flipping shut his notepad as the Merry docked at Baratie. Another supply run was nothing out of the ordinary. They’d be out by the next morning if he had any say in it.

Then he saw the mischievous glint in Zeff’s eyes, and suddenly, Sanji was nervous.

“What?” He tried to laugh it off. When all Zeff did was clap a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, the Strawhat cook’s curiosity turned to panic. “Zeff, you’ve got that look. What is it?”

Zeff shrugged and led the way further into the kitchen. It was early in the morning, breakfast being prepared as the two spoke. “Ah, nothin’.” He smirked to himself. “I’m just debating whether I should tell you, or let you find out.”

Sanji blinked, now very, very concerned for his own wellbeing. “You should definitely tell me.”

The old man let out a laugh and completely ruined Sanji’s day with just two simple words: “She’s back.”

There was no need for elaboration; Sanji knew exactly who she was. His heart dropped and all color drained from his face, jaw effectively slack. The sight had Zeff’s chest hurting with how hard he laughed.

“I—Why in the seven hells would she be comin’ here, Zeff?” Sanji clawed at his hair, sitting back against a counter and stumbling for his senses. “Last I checked she wanted nothing to do with this place.”

Zeff tutted. “Last I checked she wanted nothing to do with you, little eggplant. She left Baratie with nothing but fond memories of me.”

“That’s—!” Sanji faltered, lips pursed. “That’s fair, actually.”

“Just thought I’d warn you,” sadi Zeff as he moved to shoo a younger cook away from some vegetables and started to chop them himself. Sanji took his place beside him and found himself a knife, mincing some carrots to speed the process along.

Zeff smiled warmly. “She offered to come sing for the guests. I wasn’t about to turn her away. I raised you both. It’s natural I miss her. Then you said your crew needed more supplies the same week she’s here, and well… Would it be wrong to admit this is turning out really well for me?”

“No,” Sanji snapped back. His neck ached and his shoulders were tense, but he just kept on chopping away with practiced ease. “How in hell is any of this good?”

“You two used to be fine as friends,” Zeff reasoned. “It’s only when ya’ tried bein’ more that things went south.”

Sanji didn’t need Zeff to remind him that he’d completely, utterly, definitely screwed up any chance of being at least friends with you again. He knew that. He’d accepted it long ago. It didn’t mean Sanji was any less heartbroken about it.

“Relax,” said Zeff after he had enough of the suffocating silence. “She’s over you. You’re over her.” He finished up the vegetables and called back over the nervous little cook. “I’m sure you know her career took off. She came back to sing for Baratie before her tour ‘round the seas.”

He clapped Sanji on his shoulder and shook him a bit. “One night only. It’s sure to be great.”

Sure, except everything that Zeff had just said was entirely wrong. Sanji was in no way over you.

And Lord knew you weren’t over him either.

Across the sea-top restaurant was you, face pale, eyes wide and glaring daggers into Patty and Carne. The pair stood exchanging worried glances as you sputtered out words they could hardly understand.

“Bastards!” That they could gather. “Why didn’t Zeff tell me Sanji would be here? The only reason I accepted the invitation was because I knew Sanji was off playing pirates.” You tugged at your hair. “Or he’s supposed to be.”

“Don’t look at us!” Patty said, hands raised in surrender. The burly man offered a consoling smile. “Zeff didn’t know.”

You pointed a finger at him, a wild look in your eyes. “So you think! So you think! I bet he arranged this whole thing behind our backs!”

You knew you sounded crazy. Hell, you felt erratic at this point. Seeing Sanji was not something you were mentally prepared for just yet. You rubbed at your temples. “God, I haven’t seen him since I left.”

“It’ll be fine,” Carne siad, his hands settling on your shoulders and giving you a little shake. “Just fine.”

Patty nodded and caught sight of your agent peering around the corner she was eavesdropping from, tapping her watch with a pointed look on her face. Patty mimed rushed assurances and turned back to you. “I doubt he’ll even have the nerve to show up. Not after everything.”

You wiped a stressed tear from your eyes. “You think?”

Patty started to guide you down the hall toward the room your panicky agent was now awaiting in. “Yep. He’s a wimp like that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, slowly nodding your head. “He won’t even show up. I’ll go out there, do my set, talk to Zeff again, and book it outta here.”

Your steps were more confident as you headed for your room. Carne rolled his eyes at you, in a fond kind of way of course. “Atta girl.”

You pumped a fist as you disappeared around the corner, and the two men could breathe easy now that they were free of your scathing eyes.

જ⁀➴

Ever since you and Sanji first met, it’d been complicated.

Zeff didn’t believe in letting women work in his restaurant. He knew what type of guest his establishment attracted; from the sleazy rich to the sketchy pirates, Zeff didn’t believe it was necessarily safe for women to work there.

But then there was you, some scrappy ten year-old from the docks of some port he couldn't recall the name of.

You’d been playing a guitar far too big for you, an upturned hat before you. Zeff was bartering for a fair price on some radishes not too far away. He caught the tailend of a song as you finished, the only word to describe the sound being angelic. But Zeff didn’t have time to listen to street urchins play guitar.

Hours passed and he was back in Baratie's kitchen, sitting at the table eating some soup he’d prepared the day before. All was well and all was quiet. The ship was back at sea. The storage was fully stocked. The little eggplant was out of the way for once. He had a moment to breathe.

“AGH–AAAAH! ZEEEEFF!”

A moment short lived, and he was back to adolescent induced suffocation. The old man’s brows pinched, a migraine on the horizon. Maybe if he ignored it…

The kitchen doors swung open to reveal none other than the eggplant—Sanji’s face was all red, his hair a mess, and he was dragging a girl behind him with a fist in her hair.

Zeff jumped to his feet, this being the last thing he expected when he heard Sanji’s whistle note scream. “Sanji—!”

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” The girl—you—offered a swift kick to Sanji’s groin. You massaged at your scalp while the boy keeled and flopped over in agony. “Bitch, you ripped out some of my hair!”

Sanji groaned, practically writhing. Zeff nearly felt bad, until he recognized you. “You’re the kid from the docks!”

Before you could offer your quippy reply, Sanji had sent a kick to your shin that had you joining him on the ground. Idiots, the both of you.

Zeff had meant to kick you off when they docked at a port the next month… but, well, you had nowhere to go, and he’d grown used to how you and Sanji bickered back and forth so seamlessly.

(He’d known before anyone else that you and Sanji had something special, even if the pair of you were too stubborn to admit it.)

Zeff didn’t think he’d ever make an exception to his rules, but then there was you, and there wasn’t much use in saying no to you.

It started as being a hostess, guiding guests to their tables, and then it was bussing tables. You even tried your hand in the kitchen and were swiftly kicked out after the first fire scare. Then, you’d asked to sing, and Zeff had no objections.

But even as he grew to think of you as part of his odd excuse for a family, itt was obvious to him that you had no wish to dedicate your life to the restaurant.

You’d had to abandon your guitar when you stowed away on Baratie, but your voice had no hindering. He heard you when you thought no one else cared to listen—Sanji did too, and Zeff always thought the eggplant realized he loved you the first time he heard you sing.

Sanji wouldn’t try to disagree. He knew there was a point in the timeline of him knowing you where his annoyance at your existence turned into a kind of reverence he had no power to stop. He swore you were a siren, sent from the depths to torment his every waking moment.

As he grew older his affections only grew worse and worse, until he couldn’t help but kiss you—his very first mistake.

Sanji knew he was far from perfect, and he was far from ever deserving such a sweet love as the one you offered, but God, how he tried.

He failed, always, and that was a torture he tried not to dwell on.

Every time he fell for you, you seemed to fall harder, and he was never good at keeping up. You had dreams and so did he, and as the years drew on, it just… didn’t work, and the on-again-off-again romance was draining you both of any chance for fixing what was left of your friendship.

He tried to blame it on wrong place and wrong time, because he hoped it wasn’t simply wrong person. Sanji promised himself he would keep trying to be good for you until the day he died—but he kept failing. He kept disappointing you, breaking things off only to start them up again, he kept charming other women right in front of you.

Nobody’s perfect, but he could’ve at least tried a little harder.

Then came the day you’d left, finally having enough of his indecision and going out to fulfill all your dreams… With barely a goodbye to him. You’d left a note, of course, but it was short and cold and heartbreaking: “Dear Sanji, don’t miss me. Sincerely, Y/N.”

Sincerely. How was he ever supposed to recover from that?

As far as Sanji knew, you were doing well. There were posters and radio announcements about you, this up and coming star with the voice of an angel.

And now to the present, where he stood taking a smoke outside the Baratie’s entrance. The moon was high and the stars peaked out from the clouds. The long trail of guests filing into the restaurant for dinner was thinning.

Sanji took a drag and imagined you, in your room having last minute jitters before heading out to sing.

“Sanji?” It was Nami, stepping out into the chill night air, concern written all over her face. “You coming?”

His pause was a bit too long, and Nami tried again, “You don’t have to…”

“I…” He wanted to. God, how he wanted to hear you sing again. “I think I’ll stay out here.”

She stood there a moment longer like she wanted to argue, to snap some sense into him and get him to at least try to speak to you. There was so much history, after all, even if Nami didn’t know the half of it. But she went back inside with a hefty sigh, leaving Sanji alone with his tendrils of smoke and wallowing self-pity.

જ⁀➴

Your agent, Flora, was messing with your curls, pulling them over your shoulders as you tapped your thumb on the wood of the guitar hung around your shoulders.

“Now,” she fussed. “There’s a platform set up at the center of the room. I tested the acoustics at dawn before anybody else could get inside and it's perfect. Just right.”

Her little smile faded when she caught your eye. “Hun, what’s wrong?” She raised a brow. “Is this about that boy?”

You tried to evade the conversation with a roll of your eyes. “Flora…”

“Because I wasn’t going to tell you this,” said Flora. “But he’s been wandering around all day trying to catch a glimpse of you. Ran away every time I caught him. Had to get that Zoro guy to get him to knock it off.”

You aren’t sure why you felt surprised. You yourself had been wandering Baratie hoping you’d catch sight of that familiar mop of blond, but alas. “Do you… think he’ll show up?”

Flora took your hand. “Do you want him to?”

“No.” Yes. You wanted to see him. You wanted to know if he was doing better, if he was better, if all the bad of the past had shaped him into the Sanji you knew he could be.

“Then go out there and sing.” She had an aura of comfort and calm you often envied. “You know what song’s first, right?”

You thought of the setlist your drummer had brought to you that morning and felt your stomach drop. “Flora, I can’t sing that song to him—”

“You’re not singing it to him,” she cut in, starting to lead you out of the little room and down the hall to the grand staircase leading into the dining room. “You’re singing for all those people waiting to hear the songbird incarnate, Y/N L/N.”

You grinned tightly. “No pressure.”

Descending the stairs was the easy part. People clapped as you glided down as light as a feather, guitar around you and a light shining down from somewhere. True to Flora’s word a round platform awaited at the center of the dining room. It was small, but you had a bit of moving room. You accepted the hand of your drummer and stood up on the platform, shooting him a smile as he went back up the stairs to where the rest of your small band was ready to play.

You turned and suddenly there was a microphone to your right. Had that always been there?

“Hello, Baratie!” The applause met you at full force, easing some of your tension. Sanji was nowhere to be seen, and you weren’t sure if you liked that. “Look at your beautiful faces tonight. Oh, and there’s Chef Zeff too!”

That got you a couple of laughs before it died down again. “I’m so happy to be back here. Baratie was a home of mine once, and it’ll always have a place in my heart.” Your hand brushed your guitar strings and sent an unpleasant sound into the mic. “All right, enough sappiness. You all want some music, right?”

You cast a glance up at your band, felt a rush of familiarity, and nodded. A steady beat began and you began to strum a practiced tune on your guitar, the callousess on your fingers straining under the pressure.

“I remember when we broke up—the first time. Saying ‘This is it, I’ve had enough, ‘cause like…’”

“This isn’t working out,” he said, not a pinch of the light you'd come to love in his eyes. He looked cold and unkind, but the frown he was giving you betrayed his own heartbreak.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re… better as friends. I just need some space to think.”

“What? Then you come around again and say, ‘Baby, I miss you and I swear I’m gonna change, trust me…’”

He chased you relentlessly until his hand caught your wrist and spun you around. All his words fell short at the sight of your tears. “Y/N…”

“You said it would be different,” you reminded him. Bitterness flooded your senses. “What was her name? Did you even catch it before you unzipped her dress?”

Anger boiled in his eyes. “I didn’t—I just kissed her!”

“Just,” you laughed mirthlessly, shaking your head as you ripped yourself from his presence and stormed away.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t, Sanji!”

“I’ll do better! I promise.”

“Remember how that lasted for a day? I say I hate you, we break, you call me, I love you.”

You tried not to search for familiar faces in the crowd, instead shutting your eyes and letting the music take over, and not the lyrics.

But you were a weak woman, and your eyes pried themselves free to scan the room.

It was dark around the dining room, and the lights Flora had managed to set up were blinding, but there he was. Sanji was by the door to the lower decks, his icy eyes bearing into you with such an intensity you stumbled over your guitar strings. You picked the melody back up before it was too noticeable, but he was smirking, that son of a bitch.

Sanji noticed. He always noticed everything about you, annoyingly.

“I’m really gonna miss you picking fights, and me falling for it, screaming that I’m right, and you would hide away in your peace of mind…”

“I never said I didn’t want you to go!” Sanji screamed back at you. “I think it's the chance of a lifetime and if you want to, you should go.”

That’s not what you wanted him to say. You took your ground, staring him right in the eyes. “Do you want me to go, Sanji?”

“That’s not—”

“No, I mean…” You took a breath. “Say the word and I’ll stay. I won’t go. I’ll stay here and sing my silly songs on a crate covered in a tablecloth. Just tell me you want me.”

“I…” Sanji wanted to, you knew, but he was too kind. He wasn’t going to trap you here. You could see him choosing to be mean right before your very eyes. “I don’t care if you stay or go, Y/N. Go if you want to. I don’t care.”

You didn’t go in the morning, and the rich patron sailed away with the offer of a lifetime.

“I used to think, that we were forever—ever. And I used to think, never say never…”

Sanji hadn’t realized Nami and Zoro were beside him till the jeering began.

“Damn,” Nami laughed into his ear. “When you said you broke her heart I didn’t think you meant it.”

Zoro cast him a teasing look. “You were a douche.”

Sanji’s cheeks burned. “We were kids! I…”

“Relax, we’re joking.” Nami nudged his shoulder before she turned back to you. “She’s watching you, by the way.”

“She is?” Sanji snapped his head back up a little too quickly, but he didn't care. Nami dragged Zoro back to their table, leaving Sanji to stare absolutely starstruck at you. You really were watching, an odd kind of look in your eyes.

It wasn’t angry or sad or happy… but Sanji was sure he had a similar look in his eyes.

“So he calls me up and he’s like, ‘I still love you’...”

Your eyes locked with his and a burning sensation filled your chest. He hadn't changed much. More handsome you supposed, if you let yourself think it.

“And I’m like… I’m just… I mean, this is exhausting, you know? Like we are never getting back together…”

He tried a grin and a little wave, and memories flooded back in an instant, both the good and bad. You somehow found it in yourself to offer a smile back, and you knew then, the song was probably a lie.

“Like ever.”

જ⁀➴

“Hi…” He found you on the back terrace of the Baratie, where the fish mouth of the restaurant opened up the starry night sky.

You weren’t pretending to not be waiting, a glass of your mutually favorite wine across from you waiting for him.

He sat down, mostly because the smile you offered him was enough to buckle his knees.

“Hey,” you replied, averting your eyes to your glass.

Sanji wasn’t exactly sure where to begin, but he started with, “I think Zeff set us up.”

You snorted. “Oh, definitely.”

“Uhm…” He looked out at the sea, then at his wine, then at you, and settled on keeping his eyes there. “You were wonderful. Radiant, really.” The stars faded from his eyes as mischief replaced it. “I liked your opener.”

You rolled your eyes and flushed from your neck to your nose. “Thank you. I had good inspiration.”

“I’d say my bad, but it was a good song.” Sanji felt as breathless as he used to, when he was sixteen and just learning how much he cared about you. “You were perfect. Are perfect. Can I still say that?”

You chuckled. “I—I guess so.”

Silence filled the space between you, clicking glasses and chatter from the bar feeling very far away.

“The drummer was good—”

“I think I still love you—”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, watching Sanji’s mouth open and close like a confused fish. His ears burnt pink and a spark of opportunity filled his beautiful blue eyes. You locked eyes, and Sanji started to laugh.

The sound was better than any music and flowed from his lips like honey. Chuckles bubbled up and out of your chest till you were gripping the sides of the chair you were in as you joined in on his uncontained and unending cackles.

He wiped at a tear and tried to get a hold of himself as your laughter died down as well, and he found himself admiring how you looked under the golden lighting of the terrace. “Would it be bad if I said same here?”

There was a brief pause before you threw your head back again and laughed over and over, drawing closer to Sanji till you were side by side, knee to knee, laughing loud enough to warrant a noise complaint.

“We’re hopeless,” you mused.

Sanji shrugged. “Yeah, but what’s new?”

A lot of things, actually. Things felt different, but the same, and it was odd for you both. The same love was there along with the bad memories tagged along with it, but you and Sanji had more experience behind you now. You were older and wiser and good God, you were no longer teenagers.

Some years ago it had been wrong place, wrong time, wrong… wrong everything.

But now you looked at him and instead of seeing the boy who used to break your heart, you saw Sanji. Your childhood best friend. The man who you once thought could be the love of your life.

Maybe… perhaps… it wouldn’t hurt to give it just one more go. All right, maybe you were getting back together. You could see the pair of you meeting back at Baratie a year later, your tour long over and his crew docked for the week. You’re lovers despite distance, awaiting a someday where your dreams finally align.

Sanji pressed a tentative kiss to your forehead, testing the waters in the wake of your laughter, and asked if you wanted to meet his crew. You nodded, meaning to stand when a boy in a straw hat vaulted over the back of the seat across from you and sat down. Then a girl with orange hair and boy with green, closely followed by a dark skinned boy with tinted glasses over his eyes.

You took Sanji’s hand in your own and blushed at how he admired your profile like you’d hung the very stars in the sky. Yeah, you could see it.

#sanji #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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fieldsofwriting · 24 days

Text

You don’t have to do it alone.

Summary: Based off this request. The farmer doesn’t know the meaning of a break- and everyone else in town starts to see that they need a break.

Warnings: General depictions of exhaustion and slight injuries

When you answered the call for a Farmer in Mistria, you didn’t think it be like this. You were constantly busy, running around the water your crops, clear your farm, help repair a bridge, general store, mill, streets, and more. But everyone here, they were so kind. They were so nice. You couldn’t help it, you had to help. You had to do it. Even if you didn’t want too.

And that’s how you ended up with Ryis today. He needed help fixing up some of the fencing around Mistria, so hammer in hand you two were cranking it out. But you couldn’t help but slow as more time wore on, the ache in your muscles starting to become more and more apparent. The sun beating down on your back, you could feel it just sucking the life out of you. And by the time you noticed the trajectory of the hammer- it was too late to move your hand. The tool slammed into your hand with a mighty wack- your might wack.

“Shit! Y/N, are you okay?” Ryis calls, rushing forward and kneeling down to take your hand and look it over. “It’s gonna been to be iced. But the swelling shouldn’t be too bad.” He smiles up at you gratefully.

You give him a weak smile back, trying to ignore the throbbing. “Ah, it should be fine. I’ll have Valen check it out later. Let’s finish these fences.” You nod at him. Ryis frowns, watching as you pick up the hammer again. He wants to protest, it looked pretty nasty…but if you’re fine…?

He sighs, but kept a watchful eye on you. Making sure there was no other mishaps. And as you were walking home, Reina saw you.

“Y/N!” She calls, rushing over. “Hey! I was wondering if you have any veggies for a soup I wanna try making!” She asks, ever so cheerie.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” You nod, giving her a smile.

“Sweet! You wanna help me make it?” She asks, linking her arm through yours. Walking down to your farm with you.

In truth. No. No you did not. But here she was looking at you with those big ole eyes, and sweet smile. You couldn’t say no to her! Even if you just wanted to melt into bed. “Sure thing.” You say.

And so, you got her the crops she needed. And she chopped. You stirred the pot, that was until you put your hand down- hissing in pain as you looked at the opposite hand from what you just smashed with a hammer.

“Oh!” Reina gasps, quickly setting down her knife before taking you to the sink and rinising your hand under cold water. “Are you alright? Do you need Valen?”

You shake your head, “No, no. I’ll be okay.” You brush off her concern. “Just scared me more than anything.” You give her a smile to help ease the worries. Reina frowns, she wanted to make sure you were okay… but if you said you were fine…

And so, after leaving the Inn after some delicious soup, you headed up to the forge. You needed to fix a chip in your axe- as annoying as it was. You had already worked yourself to the bone, why not a little more?

As you approached the forge, March took you in. You looked wrecked, exhausting and he can see where you have a bandage on your hand from the burn, one of your fingernails starting to bruise. “No.” He says quickly, grabbing your axe.

“What- March stop I need to fix it!” You protest trying to grab it back from him.

“No, you need to go home and take a fucking nap. You look exhausted and the others might be dumb enough to ignore it but if you go near molten metal there is no way you’d walk out of here with your stupid cherrie smile.” He snaps at you, looking at the axe and frowning. “A chip this small isn’t worth your life.”

You blink. Was March- did he actually care? But before you can continue to protest, he looks behind him. “Yo, Ryis! Take Y/N home and do not let them leave.” He says shoving you toward him.

Ryis awkwardly catches your shoulders, frowning at March’s roughness. “You okay?”

And finally, you let out a defeated sigh. Leaning into Ryis, “I need a nap.”

Ryis chuckles, patting your back. “Okay, come on.” He says gently, helping you back home. The whole time he was surprisingly gentle. “Feel better in the morning yeah?”

You give him a sleepy smile. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long!! I kept trying to get it done but then I started working on an animation and i forgot 😔 but I hope you enjoyed!!

#fields of mistria #fields of mistria x reader #fom x reader #fieldsofwriting #fom march x reader #march x farmer #fom ryis x reader #ryis x reader #ryis fom #reina fom #reina x reader #fom valen #fom eiland

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lowkeyrobin · 6 months

Note

Headcanons for mcyt x reader doing a cooking/baking stream together??

I love your writing!!!

ooooo okay okay!!! yes of course bro ; also thank you!! I appreciate it sm 🫶🫶🫶🫶

MCYT ; cooking/baking stream

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, grease fires

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you guys were making lasanga

Garfield jokes every five minutes

there's pasta sauce and cheese everywhere

he's constantly screaming to the viewers because you keep slapping him with the lasagna sheets, cooked or dry

"y/n! help! I'm being assaulted with lasagna sheets!"

he stained his shirt with pasta sauce 💀💀

almost set the house on fire bc he somehow left shit in the oven before preheating it

you turn on music halfway through and it turns into a karaoke stream

"CALIFORNIA GIRLS WERE UNFORGETTABLE-"

RANBOO

you were making soup because you found a good recipe you wanted to try

you accidently spilled the broth and covered your legs in it

he cut himself chopping up the celery (very minor cut dw)

"cooking stream? more like we injure ourselves for two hours stream"

"cooking stream? I hardly know her"

very chaotic but very good soup

during the intervals where you guys were just waiting for things to cook, you started a hashtag on Twitter to ask you guys stuff

and you answered them while keeping an eye on the food

afterwards you guys watch TV and eat your food while still streaming

"normalize eating on stream 2024!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you were making breakfast for dinner on stream

you had to go use the bathroom while the bacon was cooking and left Freddie to tend to everything for less than a minute

and he started a grease fire.

after he got it extinguished he kinda just stood there waiting for you

meanwhile chat was exploding with panic and laughter

"Hey, y/n, I don't think we're having bacon tonight!"

"What the fuck happened???"

luckily no damage to anything other than the meat

the rest of it was really good though, and the stream had enough action for tonight 💀💀

NIKI NIHACHU

you guys were making cupcakes

you dropped like two eggs 💀💀💀 so while she was getting new ones you were cleaning up all the eggshell fragments and the insides

you got the camera to show stream your fucking mess and someone sent a dono saying "butterfingers ass"

the cackling after that 💀

you're able to get them into the oven though

and while you're waiting for them to cook, you watch dance moms and discuss everything wrong with it

commentary youtubers? I hardly know them

she begins making the icing while you pull the cupcakes out to let them cool

10/10 cupcakes they're amazing

you guys had a pride flag theme so lmao

ALEX QUACKITY

you were supposed to be making pancakes as a little challenge

his are literally raw and he put chocolate chips from the freezer straight in them

"that banana isn't gonna help anything"

"how do you know that??"

flour is everywhere. it looks like a war started

you put to much non-stick spray on the skillet and started a little fire

but Alex to the rescue dw

he couldn't even figure out how to use it and almost sprayed himself in the face!

goes on Twitter later to update that your kitchen was completely fine but the underneath of your microwave is a tiny bit melted

you blame him every time after that 💀💀

"my microwave melted a bit because you don't know how to use a fire extinguisher!"

"youre the one who used too much spray!"

chat always sides with you, too 😭😭

FOOLISH GAMERS

you thought making fried rice was a good idea? wrong

he literally has no idea what's happening

"can you make the scrambled eggs for me while I tend to the vegetables?"

"how many?"

"they're literally on the cabinet"

chat clipping every single funny moment too

"is the rice cooker even on? holy shit you left it on warm"

"I thought that meant it was on!"

"dude you've used this thing before, how long did it take for you to cook it?"

"like, forever"

"oh my god"

fried rice 10/10

he's complaining about the vegetables like he didn't have like two hours to say something about different veggies

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader

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kyriethesquishysquid · 1 year

Text

When The Lights Go Out (John Price/Fem!Reader)

Summary: Captain Price and our lovely reader are neighbors in an apartment complex. Being a single mom to a four-year-old little girl, the reader tries to deny her feelings for the Captain, too afraid of rejection and ruining their friendship. It seems that fate has other plans for them when the apartment building loses power one fateful night. (Yeah, I’m bad at summaries, sue me lol)

Word count: (Somehow) ~9.5k

A/N: Uhh... sorry this came out a lot longer than I expected lol. Some use of Y/N. Reader’s description is left rather vague but there are details as to her being short, chubby, and with hair long enough to pull back.

TW: Alcohol use. A few angry lines about infidelity of the ex-husband. Porn with minor plot. Romance and smut. Size kink, slight age gap (reader is somewhere around 25ish-30ish), dom/sub themes, M!dom, F!sub, some daddy kink, voice kink, dirty talk, squirting, and loottss of pet names (I’m a whore for pet names) including good girl, princess, darling, love, and daddy.

“This is pathetic,” you muttered glumly.

Throwing back the last bit of wine in your glass, you set it down and started filling it up again. Alone, on a Friday night, drinking at home and daydreaming about your hunk of a neighbor. God, you needed a hobby. Of course, being a single mom and working full time didn’t exactly give you the time to do much anyway, but you always felt the full brunt of loneliness on the few nights you were alone with your thoughts. Emma was with your parents at their beachside home for the weekend and there you were at home, lonely and wishing you had the balls to ask the man down the hall on a date. As you started sipping on your second glass, you let your thoughts wander back to the last time you had seen him a little over a week ago.

…

“Picey! It’s Picey!” Emma’s little voice cheered, drawing your gaze up from your phone.

A flush warmed your cheeks gently when you met your neighbor's eyes as he entered the elevator, empathetically taking in his tired and pensive expression. You managed a little smile and a wave despite the way your heart began racing at the proximity of his form beside yours.

Standing at about six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms that easily rivaled the thickness of your thighs, Captain Price was one of the, if not the, hottest men you’d ever seen. That wasn’t even counting the beautiful mutton chops and mustache combo he sported or the way his intense blue eyes crinkled at the edges when he blessed you with his bright smile. Yeah, safe to say, you were helplessly smitten with the older military man.

“Hey, munchkin!” Price replied, all traces of exhaustion lifting immediately as he ruffled her hair, “Hello, munchkin’s mum.”

“Hello, Captain. It’s good to see you made it home safe,” you said sweetly.

Before he could respond, Emma reached out towards the captain with little grabby hands. There was a moment where you considered pulling your daughter away, not wanting to make Price feel awkward, but then he lifted his hands in waiting. You thought your heart would explode, watching him set the toddler on his hip as if she belonged there naturally while she started babbling to him about cookies.

“Chocolate chip, huh? You’re gonna sneak me some over, aye?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, eyes flickering to meet yours with mirth.

“As long as you promise you’re gonna be there tonight,” you replied coyly, “No running out on another mission without telling us, got it?”

Mastering your best stern mom look, you challenged his gaze only for the big man to break into a grin. The two of you had a little system going on. You brought him dinner and sweets on the nights he was home, and he’d let you know when he was heading out of town so you didn’t freak out when you didn’t see him for a while. It started after the first time you’d made the landlord do a wellness check when you hadn’t seen him for over a week. Safe to say, you were mortified when he confronted you about it, but he took it in stride; said it was nice to have someone outside of work looking out for him. This last trip was the first time since then that he’d left without warning and you couldn’t deny that it had made you sick with worry.

“I figured you’d be upset over that but, in my defense, I got the call at two in the mornin’ and I wasn’t about to wake up the lil missus just for that,” he explained.

Your conversation was interrupted by the ding of the lift, gazes turning forward as the doors opened onto your floor. He waved you forward and followed you down to your end of the hall, all the while engaging Emma in a conversation about her newest love- Dora. A pang of sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you stopped at your door and had to unlock it, signaling the end of your impromptu hang-out with the Captain.

“Will you be home around six?” you asked as you took Emma back from him.

“Should be.”

Giving him a little nod, you replied, “Good, expect a delivery around then.”

…

He had to leave that next morning for another mission and still wasn’t back yet. Logically, you knew that he could be gone anywhere from a few days to a couple of months at a time, but that didn’t make you worry any less each time.

“Good god, I need to get laid,” you mused, eyes darting to your phone on the charger, “Would Tinder be worth it?”

You were debating the pros and cons of downloading the dating app when there was a sudden pop and everything went black around you, your dim phone screen the only source of light in your pitch-black apartment. A little scream fled your lips as the darkness immediately closed in around you like an assailant, the shadows mimicking fingers against your skin and evoking terrifying thoughts.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit!”

Jumping off of the bar stool, you made a mad dash across the kitchen in hopes of finding all the candles you had hiding in the storage closet. Of course, it was just your luck that you forgot that you had left one of the cabinets open just enough to catch your knee, the unexpected impact sending you flying across the floor with a shriek. Almost instantly, you could feel the bruises rising under your skin but even those were nothing compared to the blinding pain across your knee. Stifling curses under your breath, you turned your phone light on again to assess the damage and couldn’t help but whimper at the sight of blood dripping down your leg. A simple gash but painful nonetheless.

“I swear to god, as if tonight couldn’t get any wo-”

The sudden thunder of pounding on your front door almost sent you into another panic until you heard the voice.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

Captain Price. Groaning in relief, you managed to force yourself up to your feet and hobbled over to the door, sliding open the top lock and deadbolt before yanking it open. Jesus, the man seemed even bigger in the dark, his shadowed form dominating the doorway with ease.

“Hey, Price,” you huffed lamely, barely able to make out his face in the dim backup lighting from the hallway.

He moved as if to reach out for you but then suddenly pulled away as if he thought better of it, hands resting on his hips as he looked over you.

“I was comin’ to check on you and the little one when I heard you yell, you alright?” he asked, voice as uncertain as you felt.

“Mm, define alright,” you joked softly, gesturing down to your leg as you flashed your phone light onto the wound, “I panicked when the power went out, and I was going for the candles when I… well, I tripped.”

It sounded much stupider when you said it out loud, you realized. Way to embarrass yourself in front of the hottest guy alive, self. He cleared his throat and you quickly turned off the phone in mortification when you realized how much skin you were showing, almost scandalous having been dressed down into a tiny little pajama set for a quiet night alone.

“I- I see,” he muttered quietly, “Do you need help cleanin’ that up?”

Your head nearly spun with whiplash as suggestive thoughts raced through your brain but you managed a little shrug after a moment.

“If you don’t mind, sure, I wouldn’t be opposed to the company anyway. I hate the dark,” you admitted softly.

Thankfully, he didn’t comment on your childish fear, just followed you in and shut the door behind him. You were about to run to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit when his hands were suddenly on your sides, steering you to the kitchen island stool with the firm instruction to ‘sit and relax’.

“I’ll grab the bandages. Where do you keep them?” he asked once you sat.

Cheeks warming, you drew your legs up into the seat and rested your cheek on your knee, wrapping around yourself for protection against the sudden onslaught of lust rocketing through your body. While you logically knew he had to be commanding for his career in the military, hearing that authoritarian tone directed your way was nothing less than arousing.

“First aid kit is in the bathroom, cabinet above the toilet,” you explained, hoping your voice didn’t betray your inner panic.

He stalked off without another word and you immediately wished you could see his form better. The man had an ass that made your knees weak. You were ashamed to think about how often you’d taken sneak peeks as he walked away, or how often you’d pictured riding one of his thick thighs until-

“You said you have candles?”

“Fuck!”

You nearly fell out of your chair as you flinched in reaction to the sudden addition of his voice to your not-so-innocent thoughts of said man. It was obvious he was trying not to let his amusement show but you caught the way his shoulders shook in laughter as he set the kit on the island next to you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized kindly, “Candles?”

Embarrassed and frustrated beyond belief, you told him exactly where the candles were before dragging your wine glass over, hoping to drink away the awkwardness and lust making a home in your stomach. In the time it took him to get back to the island, you had finished your second glass of wine and began to pour a third. You were gonna need all the liquid courage you could get if you were going to survive being alone with him in close quarters for the first time ever. He lit the candles and set them evenly across the island's top, the flames highlighting and shadowing his handsome face in flickering light.

“Alright, let’s see that cut,” he sighed, taking a seat across from you.

A wave of gratefulness swelled in your chest as you realized you had shaved yesterday. No hairy legs to make things worse. That was one point in your favor. Allowing him to take your leg into his hands, you watched intently as he rested your calf against his thigh, fingers tracing gently around the edge of the gash with a sigh.

“Got yourself good, didn’t ya? Good news is you won’t need stitches,” he explained.

“That’s a relief.”

Honestly, you hadn’t even thought about the possibility of stitches. Your lip ached under the pressure of your teeth as you gnawed on the plump flesh in an attempt to calm the blood pounding through your veins. Sure, it wasn’t under the best circumstances, but you’d longed to feel those very fingers on you for months now- and here he was, touching your bare legs, in a dark room lit up romantically by candlelight, staring at you as if… wait, why was he staring?! His lips moved and you belatedly realized he’d been talking to you while you zoned out thinking about all the ways you wanted him to fuck you seven ways from Sunday.

“Sorry, what?” you asked bluntly, a weak smile curling up your lips.

“I said this might sting,” he repeated with a little chuckle, “Just how many glasses of wine have you had there, darlin’?”

Heat lit up your cheeks as you gave a little shrug in response.

“I just started on number three; I’m not drunk,” you assured him.

“Mmhmm.”

He lifted an eyebrow to express his obvious disagreement and, before you could stop it, you poked your tongue out at him teasingly. There was a sudden pause as if the world stilled when his eyes met yours, and you instinctively pulled your tongue back in as something dark passed through his eyes.

“Better watch that tongue now, love,” he rumbled softly.

Fuck, letting him in had definitely been a bad decision. Between the wine circulating in your system, your fear of the dark, and the intimacy of his skin against yours, you were undoubtedly going to make a stupid mistake. Oh but how you wanted to.

Nibbling on your lower lip, you shifted in your seat to allow him to angle your leg up more and quickly quipped, “Or what, sir?”

The way he fumbled the little alcohol packet would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the intense look he pinned you with after. Your laughter died on your lips before it could even exit. It was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking in the dim candlelight but, with the way he was slowly stroking your calf muscle almost subconsciously, you hoped it was good. The silence was deafening. While he wasn’t more than five or ten years older than you, you suddenly felt much younger, much smaller beneath his gaze. Was this his disappointed captain look? Had you actually upset him?

“Uh, s-sorry, sir,” you whispered softly.

He let out a low sigh before suddenly leaning forward, fingers gently touching your chin while his thumb pried your lip free from your teeth.

“I need you to stop bitin’ your lip like that,” he demanded.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, your head swimming on cloud nine, and your skin sparking at every point his body touched yours. You barely managed a little hum of agreement when he tapped your chin softly, obviously expecting an answer. Fuck what you wouldn’t give to kiss him right now.

“Good girl, now, sit back and let me fix you up.”

Every fiber of your being felt on fire and it took all of your might not to moan at that panty-wetting line. He had to know what he was doing, right? Nobody was unintentionally that sexy. Nobody. Swallowing hard, you nodded once and did as told, letting your hands rest on your lap as he cleaned and bandaged up the wound. It was funny. You had almost expected him to have a heavy hand, between his size and his career, but he was nothing short of tender. Almost as if he was afraid he would hurt you.

“There, all done,” he murmured, gently patting your foot but not removing it from his lap, “Does it still hurt?”

Shaking your head quickly, you picked up the mostly empty wine bottle and tilted it his way. There was maybe one glass worth left.

“Drink?” you offered meekly, “As payment for patching me up?”

He was obviously hesitant but finally took it after you shook the bottle insistently at him.

“Yeah! Don’t leave me to drink alone like the fool I am,” you chuckled with a grin, “Glad to see you’re back home safe, by the way.”

“In the nick of time too, it seems,” he hummed warmly.

You nodded in agreement, letting your body relax against the low back of the chair as you sipped on your drink and not-so-subtly eyefucked him. He was dressed down more than usual, neither in his fatigues nor usual casual clothes. And yet somehow he was still the most delectable man you’d ever seen, in his tight black henley and sporty grey sweatpants; maybe even more so than usual. He looked almost approachable like that. You had to wonder if he knew the internet’s obsession with those pants or the reason why. His own ‘physique’ wasn’t lost in your appreciation of how well they fit his massive thighs.

“Where’s kiddo?” he asked suddenly.

It took you a second to understand what he had asked, leaving you to blink owlishly in confusion until it finally registered and a relaxed smile crossed your face.

“My parents took her with them to their beach house this weekend, something about an early birthday gift for her and wanting to give me a “break”,” you snorted, remembering your mom’s exact reasoning.

Lifting your hands into the air, you made air quotes as you mimicked her high-pitched voice.

“Go see one of those young men who keep asking you out at work”, you squeaked before letting out a fake laugh, “As if I’d do that.”

“Why’s that?”

Rolling your eyes, you immediately retorted, “Well, one, I don’t date customers. Sets a bad example for the next guy that wants in my pants. And two, I dunno… I guess I just have a specific type. Besides, there’s only one man I want right now and, well, I’m certain he doesn’t exactly feel the same way.”

A deep warmth crossed your face down your neck, leaving you overheated as you looked over said man lustfully. Hopefully, you weren’t too obvious but, fuck, maybe if you were you’d get an answer. Was chancing your friendship, his connection with Emma, worth the one percent chance he’d fuck you? No, you decided with a frown, it really wasn’t.

Price snorted, took a drink of the wine, and muttered, “Well, that’s just stupid. Either he’s blind or you just don’t know he’s interested.”

“Yeah right, Captain. I’m a single divorced mom. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly a hot commodity these days. Plus, I’m chubby and out of shape, and he’s like the epitome of godlike,” your words trailed off slowly as you let your eyes run down and up his body pointedly, “Guys like him don’t go for ladies like me, as much as I’m selfish and wish he would.”

The sigh he let out made your heart flutter. God, what would that deep rumble sound like in bed, or was he a quiet one? You hoped he wasn’t. His voice was the epitome of sexual energy and you’d want to hear him talking you through every second.

“It’s John, and you’re blind,” he retorted blandly, earning a confused look from you.

“What do you mean? About myself? No, I’m pretty sure-”

“Oh, fuck it!”

Suddenly your leg was tossed aside when he jumped to his feet, pushing to stand between your thighs as he gripped them tight and dragged you to the edge of the chair until he was slotted perfectly against the apex of your thighs. One hand moved to cup your face and dragged you into a soft kiss, his other digging tight into the plush of your hip.

All you could do was blink in awe. Was- Was this real? Had you passed out when you fell? There was no way Price was kissing you right now.

He pulled back as if he’d been stung and let out a curse.

“Shit, did I misread that?” he asked, brows furrowed in worry.

Eyes wide and mouth parted, you hesitantly reached up and covered his hand with yours, taking in the sensation of his skin against yours.

“Did- Did you just kiss me or am I dreaming?” you asked weakly.

Relief filled his face and you watched as he broke into laughter, shoulders bouncing with the motion as he leaned in again until your eyes could barely focus on his.

“Yes, I kissed you, is that alright, love?”

“More than alright,” you whispered.

This time you were able to react, disbelief thrown to the side to make room for desire. Hands resting gently against his cheeks, you stroked your thumbs along the oddly soft hairs and shivered in excitement. He was gentle and sweet, both everything you’d expected and yet somehow not nearly as rough. You’d always questioned what kind of lover he was, seeing as he was someone with a heart of gold in one of the most dangerous fields of work.

Your thoughts were brought back to the moment when you felt his lips part against yours. Without a second thought, you leaned up and sunk your teeth into his plump lower lip, nearly moaning at the groan he let out in reply. The hand that had been idle on your face wrapped around the nape of your neck and squeezed tight until you released your hold.

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?” he breathed out huskily, eyes searching your face hungrily.

“No trouble at all,” you replied cheekily.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” he scoffed, “Just remember, brats don’t get what they want, aye?”

You could practically feel your body humming and your eyes dilated as you took in a shaky breath.

“I- I won’t be a brat,” you whispered back, comically quiet in the silent room.

“Good girl.”

That was the second time he’d used those words against you. There was definitely more to Price than you’d expected and, god, you wanted to explore it all, but at another time. Right now, the way he praised you felt sweeter than cotton candy on your tongue and you craved that more than breath itself. The saccharine tenderness of his words was replaced with the smoky taste of tobacco and sharp notes of your red wine when his mouth met yours once more.

A little whine escaped your mouth into his when he drew back just enough to bite your lip and sucked softly on the tender flesh. When he finally pulled away, you could only stare at him with adoration.

“You have to stop lookin’ at me like that, princess,” he groaned.

Oh. Oh, that nickname. Fuck, this man was ticking off all your secret kinks without even knowing it.

“Forgive me if I’m a little starstruck,” you replied with a nervous giggle, nails scraping gently along his jaw, “I’ve only been thinking about this for months.”

“Months, huh?” he asked, leveling you with a deadly smirk.

You let out a little breath and nodded, explaining, “Ever since the first time I saw you, even before I knew what a sweetheart you were, all I could imagine was how good it’d feel if you’d pin me up against the wall in the elevator or-”

His groan silenced you immediately, your lips hanging open as you watched entranced by the way his head tipped back.

“Come on, up we go,” he purred suddenly, fingers sliding down to grab your ass.

You instinctively clung to him with a cry of shock when he lifted you from the chair onto his waist, eyes wide as you met his gaze.

“John! Don’t, I’m heav-”

“Princess, I train with men twice your size every day,” he cut you off smoothly, “Believe me when I say your weight is nothin’. Besides, what’s the point in having muscles if not to carry around beautiful women, hmm?”

Warmth flooded your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck, unable to meet his eyes as he said such sweet things. True to his word, he was able to carry you from the kitchen all the way into your bedroom without breaking a sweat. The instant your knees met the bed, he was on you again, lips gently kissing down the soft column of your throat. When he reached the thickest part of the muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, his teeth dug in hard, his lips sucking your sensitive flesh taut until you were nearly clawing at him, afraid he would break the skin. He pulled back with a pop and you deflated against him, whimpering his name breathlessly.

It felt good, really fucking good, but you needed more. Slipping your hands beneath his shirt, you rested your palms against his abdomen and drew the fabric up as you soaked in the feeling of raw power under your fingers.

“Shirt off,” you managed to huff through whimpers, “Please.”

Price jerked back hastily and tore the shirt off, giving you an unintentional but lovely show as he threw it aside. He wasn’t built as in a super compact six-pack, but he was broad, solid, the defining lines of his core muscles showing with each sharp intake of breath. You let your fingers trace over each dip of his obliques, up to his toned shoulders and then back down to rest against the thicket of hair covering his tense pecs as you eyed every inch of bare skin. This man was, undeniably, a fucking god.

Eyes flickering up to meet his, you flashed him a small smile as you leaned forward, copying his previous motions on your neck against his. His low rumble vibrated deliciously against your lips as you made your way down his neck, stopping against his shoulder to suck on the tender flesh and leave a love bite that surely matched the one on you.

He startled a squeak out of you when his hand suddenly came into contact with your ass, the smack loud and sharp in the air.

“I thought you weren’t goin’ to be a brat,” he asked teasingly.

You shot him a pout and replied, “I wasn’t. It’s only fair that I get to leave marks on you if you’re going to leave them on me.”

Lifting a brow, he smirked and shook his head.

“As long as you leave them out of sight,” he compromised after a moment of thought, “Gotta have some kind of professionalism at work.”

At that, your eyes widened and shame lit up your cheeks. You hadn’t thought about that at all. While your hickies could be covered up with makeup, it’s not like you’d really get in trouble for having them at work, but as a soldier- a captain no less- you could only imagine what rules they had there.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think about that! You won’t get in trou-”

“Shh, shh, princess, it’s fine,” he assured you quickly, drawing you up into a gentle kiss, “My shirt’ll cover it.”

“You’re sure?” you asked meekly.

“I promise, you’re fine.”

With one last kiss, he released your face and you went back to your previous task. Now, though, you made sure to keep any biting to areas that would be covered by his clothes. There were little scars scattered across his skin, little reminders that he had been hurt so many times before, and each one made your heart clench with the need to kiss them away. It wasn’t until you reached the drawstring of his sweats that he finally stopped you and pulled you back up.

“Hey,” you groaned in frustration.

“Uh-uh. Don’t pout at me. What do you want, darlin’? I need you to tell me,” he muttered, breath catching in his throat as you slid your fingers across his waistband.

“I want to taste you finally,” you replied, “I’ve dreamed about it for so long.”

His moan would have made you collapse against the bed if he weren’t holding onto your hips so tightly. Fuck, you knew he’d sound good like that.

“First, this shirt comes off,” he replied, fingers hooking under your tank top.

Lifting your arms, you let him tear the fabric away and were rewarded with a guttural moan when his gaze found your bare breasts. You weren’t even given the chance to put your arms back down before he was knelt on the bed, arm hooked around your back to drag you forward with a growl as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your chest.

“Ah, fuck!” you gasped weakly, fingers sinking into his short hair for support.

“You- are- bloody- gorgeous,” he hissed out between wet kisses, “How you think I could ever resist you baffles me.”

Any embarrassment you would have felt from his comment was washed away the instant his mouth was on your nipple, fingers mimicking the motion on the other one. Each stroke of his tongue across your sensitive bud felt directly connected to your clit. Within moments, you felt both on the brink of orgasm and yet leagues away, your breaths coming out hot and heavy as you pulled him closer still.

“John, please,” you whined, free hand tugging at his pants symbolically.

He grunted, giving a slight shake of his head as he latched onto your breast with fervor, sucking so hard you felt dizzy with need. When he finally pulled back, you almost fell back.

“Head off the end of the bed then, love,” he instructed gently.

It took you a second to organize your thoughts but you finally nodded as he walked around to the end. Laying on your back, you quickly scooted farther down the mattress until your head fell off and you were left face-to-face with his bulge in those damned grey sweats. Oh, what a sight that was. You’d take a picture if you could.

Lifting up just enough to meet his gaze, you hesitantly reached for his pants and asked, “Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

Twisting your hands, you dragged your nails softly down the plains of his abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles clenched against your fingers before you grabbed the waistband and tugged it down. You instinctively froze with an audible gasp as you watched his cock slap against his belly, the tip resting right below his navel. While you could tell he was big through his clothes, you’d underestimated just how big. And fuck was he beautiful, thick and veiny and delectable.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John,” you bit out in disbelief with a laugh, “This is supposed to fit in me?”

Allowing one hand to keep tugging his sweats down, the other came up to wrap around his base. Despite never having been with a man quite as big as him, you knew you could do it, but you also understood it was going to take some getting used to. One wrong move and you’d be in pain for days after.

“Don’t worry, princess, we’ll make it fit,” he purred warmly.

A muted curse left your lips as your core clenched in need. This man was going to be the death of you. Wiggling so your neck was better supported by the edge of the bed, you used your hold on his dick to lead him forward, parting your lips invitingly the moment he was close enough. His taste was overwhelming when he finally pushed between your lips. A hungry moan escaped before you could stop it and your fingers dug into his thighs, urging him forward.

He slowly inched closer, pulling out and sliding back in with each step until he was able to lean over your body, one hand resting beside you on the bed to balance himself while the other busied itself plucking at your nipples. It was hard to take at first, your anxiety telling you that you wouldn’t be able to actually handle his full size, but you breathed through it all and focused on keeping your muscles relaxed.

“Fuck, look at you,” he sighed, scratching his short nails down your stomach, “You’re absolutely stunnin’, love.”

You flinched in surprise when his fingers slipped beneath your shorts but the shock was cut short by rampant desire as he slid his digits along your slit with a groan. The motion flexed his hips forward and buried him further into your mouth, head pressing uncomfortably against your throat.

“Can you take more, darlin’?” he asked softly.

Humming out positively, you quickly swallowed before craning your neck back farther, hoping to open yourself more.

“That’s my girl, relax your throat for me. Tap me if it gets to be too much.”

After letting you take in a deep breath, he began to push deeper. Almost instantly you felt tears flood your eyes. It took every bit of your resolve not to give into the desperate need to gag around him as he pushed in slowly, but you held strong. You’d give everything you could to this man and you wouldn’t complain for a single second.

“Fuck!”

He jerked back suddenly and thrust in just as quickly, then again, until he got comfortable with fucking your mouth. Pressing your tongue against his cock, you were easily lost in the motions, reminding yourself to suck in a breath every other thrust when you could; so lost that you practically jumped into the air when you felt his fingers start moving against your clit. Your entire body melted into the mattress as you gave over to primal desires, brain too full of cotton to do more than allow you to just feel.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, love,” he groaned quietly, “I can’t wait to see how wet you get when I make you come.”

The moan you let out was garbled by his cock but it made him groan your name in return, his hips stuttering in their pace. You nearly whined at the loss of his hand in your shorts but then it was over your neck, wet fingers wrapping around your throat and pressing against the sides as he thrust in as far as possible and held there. You couldn’t breathe, and yet you found you weren’t scared.

“God, look at that. I can see your throat bulgin’ around my cock. I can fuckin’ feel it when I press right here. What a pretty fuckin’ sight you make.”

A broken whine fell from your lips when he pulled back suddenly, leaving your blurry eyes staring at his erection wantingly until he took your hands and guided you up. You were barely upright before his mouth crashed against yours, biting, brutal, and perfect.

“John, please,” you whimpered against his lips, nails finding a home in his arms as you tried to pull him onto the bed.

“I already told you, you need to use your words, princess,” he reminded you firmly.

Wiping away the few tears that had fallen, you nodded and said, “I want you to fuck me, please.”

The smirk that curved up his lips made your heart thump.

“I will, I promise, but not before I have those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head,” he retorted, “Lay down.”

Apparently, you took too long to move in your shock because the next thing you knew, you were shoved back onto the bed. A giggle escaped quietly as you situated the pillow beneath your head but you went silent as you caught the beautiful sight of an entirely naked Captain John Price scaling up the bed over you. Who the fuck gave him the right to be so goddamn gorgeous? He snagged your shorts and tore them off, tossing them away without a second thought before he leaned down over you.

“You and those eyes, darlin’,” he sighed softly, lips pressing softly on your sternum.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

A sharp gasp caught your breath when he turned his head and rubbed his beard against your sensitive skin, teasing across your flesh until he took your hardening peak between his lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

When he released you, there was a twinkle in his gaze.

“I used to tell myself I was just seein’ things, but now, now I know,” he murmured, beard trailing across the expanse of your chest until his mouth was hoving over your other nipple, “You’re eyes are so damn beautiful, so expressive. I can see every thought goin’ on behind them and it drives me crazy.”

You licked your lips nervously and asked, “That’s good, right?”

His response came in the form of a growl as his teeth sunk into your breast, tearing a squeal from your chest as you instinctively arched into his touch.

“Very good. I like seein’ what I do to you.”

Butterflies twitched up a storm in your belly as he slowly kissed down your abdomen, taking care to plant his lips on every little spot, even those you hated. When he lifted your legs up onto his shoulder, you couldn’t help the little whimper you let out, feeling beyond exposed to him, a little overwhelmed by the intimacy. It had been years since you’d been with anyone, since even before your ex-husband had left you and Emma, and now you were here with the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on lying between your legs, practically salivating at the chance to eat you out when the man you’d been married to couldn’t even be bothered to do more than stick his dick in. What a fucking upgrade.

“Don’t be quiet, love, I want to hear ya,” he ordered lowly, lips trailing up the inside of your right thigh, “Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered back, grinning as you saw the reaction clear in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

He moved slow, so slow that you want to whine and beg him to move faster, but the tingle of his beard and teeth against your skin felt too good. When he finally kissed down your mound and his lips brushed against your slit, you couldn’t hold back a moan.

“That’a girl,” he hummed.

His arms hooked around your legs, pinning them open as one hand dipped to part your lips and his tongue immediately went to the place you craved it most. Instinctively your legs fought to close against the sudden tendrils of pleasure but he easily held them in place.

“Uh-uh, this is mine,” he growled, punctuating his words with a little nibble against your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

Your fingers clung to the sheets for some semblance of restraint as your eyes rolled back and a low moan crawled from your throat. With slow, heavy motions, he lapped at your clit, teasing you up the precipice at a pace that made you delirious for more. Gradually the leisurely licks turned into more precise, quick strokes and you lost your ability to stay silent.

“Please, please more,” you whimpered.

His moan was loud in the quiet room and the heated cadence twisted the knot in your core tighter.

“More what?” he asked huskily.

Though his tongue was no longer at work, he didn’t stop teasing you, letting his fingertips rub your clit oh so gently as he kissed up the inside of your thigh.

“Hmm, princess? Tell me exactly what you want,” he encouraged.

Brows furrowing, you whimpered and battled through the sensations long enough to reply.

“I want you in me,” you gasped.

He chuckled and gave a gentle bite into the meat of your thigh before saying, “I need more to go on. Use your words, little one. What part of me do you want inside of you?”

You slapped a hand over your face in mortification and bit out, “I want your dick in me! Please fuck me!”

“Oh baby, I told you. Not until I’m done with you. You’re going to come undone on my tongue first, then I’ll gladly fuck you.”

Was this man hand-crafted by the gods specifically to give you a heart attack? How did he manage to roll up dominance and sweetness so perfectly? Your thoughts spun out of control when John brought your attention back to him, removing his hold on one of your legs with a little smack to your hip.

“My fingers will have to do for now,” he purred.

Even warned, the breach of his fingers into your cunt set off a miniature explosion. Your walls clamped down tight without thought and your legs shook in restraint as the blissful ecstasy edged rapidly closer. When he added his tongue back into the mix, your brain shut off entirely. Curses and whimpers of desperation filled the air as your nails scrambled for purchase against your breasts.

“Jo-John, fuck yes, please- I-”

“That’s it, love, come for daddy.”

Those words beautifully timed with the flicking of his tongue finally sent you over the edge with a scream. Ecstasy erupted in your core, shocks of pleasure vibrating through your body as he worked you endlessly through it. You instinctively tried to push him away but he snagged your wrist tight, pinning it down against your stomach as he held your hips down against the bed, not giving you even an inch as you thrashed in his hold.

“J-John,l fuckohmygod!”

It was too much, burning and hot and so fucking good. His tongue continued to swirl and dance as he deepened the curl of his fingers with a hungry groan. Before you could stop it, you felt a familiar, debauched pleasure release within. With a cry of shock, you thrashed under him with guilt and indulgence as he pushed you into that rarely achieved euphoria that painted your thighs and his face with slick. It wasn’t until you were frantically jerking at your bonds and begging him through tears, nearly collapsing in on yourself under the stimulation, that he finally drew away with an animalistic growl.

All you could do was lay there, panting and whimpering, and try not to cry like a baby. Never had anyone been able to make you come like that.

“Hey, look at me, princess,” John cooed softly.

You could feel him crawling over you again, his body radiating heat across your rapidly cooling skin, and you instinctively smiled softly at the comfort he brought.

“Love, let me see those beautiful eyes, hmm?” he urged, hand gently stroking your cheek.

After another second or two, you managed to flutter your eyelids open only to find him with worry in his gaze. It was unbearably endearing until you realized just how wet his facial hair was and your cheeks burned hot.

“S-Sorry,” you whispered, reaching up to get rid of the evidence.

John chuckled when he caught your hand before you got anywhere near him, slamming it to the bed beside your head as he leaned in and caught your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t ever apologize for enjoying yourself, darlin’,” he replied warmly, “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t do it. Fuck, I could live off that sweet little cunt, princess. And the way you say my name? God.”

It felt so weird to hear such good things about yourself and it made you want to shrink away but he was having none of that.

“I need to know if you want to continue. If you want to stop, just say-”

“No! I- I want more,” you cut him off quickly, legs wrapping loosely around his hips, “Please.”

Gone was the worry, replaced by wanton lust as a smirk filled his lips.

“You sure?”

Swallowing hard, you nibbled on your lower lip and whispered, “Please… daddy.”

If you didn't know better, you’d have thought you’d slapped him by the groan he let out, his hips subconsciously grinding against your cunt.

“Oh, uh, it might be a little late but… I’m am clean and I’m on birth control,” you added meekly, shuddering under the heat in his gaze, “I- I got tested after Daz cheated and I haven’t been with anyone since then so… It’s- It’s safe if… I just don’t have condoms so…”

You let your voice trail off awkwardly, his silence worrying you until he let out a low sigh. He stretched forward and pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he murmured your name.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he murmured, then asked again, “You’re sure?”

“Completely, please, fuck me,” you assured him.

He moaned softly before lifting back up onto his hands, staring down at you with pure unadulterated passion and desire.

“You said it’s been a while, aye?”

When you nodded, he suddenly slipped off to the side, grabbing your hands before you could complain about the loss and drawing you up onto your knees.

“Come, sit on my lap, we’re gonna do it like this so you can control how fast we go,” he explained as he patted his thighs, “Stretched you out a bit but the last thing I wanna do is hurt you, darlin’.”

The thought of sitting on him was less than ideal but you gave into him at his gentle insistence. With his help, you crawled onto his lap, hovering with his cock just against your lips.

“Have you done it this way before?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied shyly.

“Alright, so you’ll start like this, it’ll let you control how deep we go until you’re comfortable, and then once you’re ready, I’ll help you put your legs behind me.”

Your lips quirked up at the mental image and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I know, it sounds silly, but I promise, it’ll be best for you,” he explained with a boyish grin, “And plus, it’ll let me see your beautiful face and these gorgeous tits.”

With a little nod, you carefully widened your kneeling stance and took hold of his cock, guiding him to your entrance. Just feeling his head against you was enough to light that fire in your core again.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered as you lowered your hips.

Your nails were sure to leave marks on his shoulders as you held on for deal life, relishing in the burning stretch of your walls accommodating his size. He didn’t seem to be faring much better if the hiss he let out was any indication.

“There you go, slow and steady, princess,” he purred encouragingly, hands resting on your hips to help guide you.

With a surge of confidence, you silenced him with the sudden drop of your hips, groaning when it felt like the air had been knocked out of you. His name came out as a prayer as you wiggled your hips, impatiently trying to get him in inch by inch. It was a good thing you were soaking wet because otherwise, you wouldn’t wanna think about how hard it’d be to get even that far. After a moment, it felt like too much and you had to pause, taking in deep steadying breaths.

“I know, princess, I know. But you’re taking it so fuckin’ well,” John groaned, “Just take your time. There’s no rush, baby.”

Baby. Fuck. Out of all the names, that one felt the most intimate for some reason. It made your toes curl and pushed you past the hump, giving you the power to keep going. Mama didn’t raise no quitter, as the saying goes. A grin crawled across your lips at the look of pure devastation and pleasure that crossed his face when you finally wiggled again. His head fell back and a devilish growl escaped his clenched teeth. Fingers clawed at your plush bottom and held you in place as you teasingly swayed your hips. It was clear you were more than ready before he was, which you’d take as a massive compliment.

“You feel so fucking good, daddy,” you murmured, grabbing one hand and bringing it to your mouth.

Those beautiful crystal blue eyes had barely met yours before you sucked his thumb between your lips and clenched your core tight.

“Fuck!!” he hissed, thighs jumping under yours, “You- God!”

Swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking on it like a lollipop, you let your hips settle down further, burying him deliciously deeper in your core until there was no more space between you. Your eyelids fluttered shut against the sudden surge of pleasure igniting in your belly, trying to fight it back. You wanted to focus on him. It was just so hard when he filled you to the absolute maximum that your body could handle. Once you didn’t feel so close to the edge, you rocked your hips left and right and back and forth, watching his face closely and soaking up the unrivaled lust that showed.

“Come here, balance on me, and let’s swing this leg out,” he said hoarsely.

With his instruction, you were able to sit with your legs crisscrossed behind his back and it only pushed him that much further into your cunt, your walls greedily sucking in every inch. The moment you were stable, he was quick to advance on the opportunity, free hand palming your back and jerking you toward him with a hungry moan. Before you could react, he had you melting in the palm of his hands, lips hungrily sucking at your left breast while his fingers plucked the right. All your fight, your will to do this entirely on your own, flitted away slowly with each stroke.

When you finally started moving again, you almost came immediately, a panicked gasp catching in your chest at the way your clit rubbed against his pubis. His warm chuckle barely filtered through your haze until his fingers snarled in the hair at the base of your neck and he jerked you into an achingly sweet kiss, his other arm wrapping around your back.

“That’s it, beautiful, just like that,” he cooed gently.

Of all the fantasies you’d had about John, nothing had ever quite stood up to this. There was something more to this than just raw, animalistic sex and it made your heart beat just a little bit harder.

Every rock of your hips was aided by him, drawing you that much closer and easing the strain on your legs. Soft praises spilled from his lips, encouraging little moans telling you how good you felt, how beautiful you were, how he wanted to stay like that forever. It was almost enough to make you cry but the ever-growing pressure in your core kept your senses on high, making your brain focus more on the pleasure than the intimacy you didn’t know you craved from the big man. Your forehead pressed gently against his as your eyes rolled back and you clawed at his shoulders. There was so much to take in, the passion and emotion both physical and mental, and you were starting to lose grip on all facets of control. Thankfully, he seemed to match your sentiment, hands suddenly pulling you to a halt as he let out a groan.

“I want you on hands and knees,” he demanded gruffly, “Can you do that?”

Nodding hastily, you carefully untangled yourself from him and grabbed a pillow, shoving it beneath your hips to help keep you at the perfect angle.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded gravelly with a sharp smack to your ass.

With a whimper, you wiggled your hips at him and gasped, “I want you in me. Fuck me, please!”

He lined his cock up and immediately slammed in with a heady groan, all sense of worry and compassion gone. Your nails tore into the sheets as he stretched through your walls without hesitation. It was so much at once. That other position had truly babied you against his size. Now, now you were feeling every single fucking inch. Your body instinctively fought against the depths he reached but, mentally, you wanted nothing more than to keep him there for the rest of all time.

“Fuck, oh my god, it’s- mmm- s’too much!”

“Relax, little one. I know it’s a lot,” he purred, hands stroking along your back lovingly.

“Mmmm, yesss. Hurts so good,” you whimpered mindlessly.

“Yeah, but you can take it; can’t you, princess?” he groaned as he started to rock his hips.

Those dirty words were spoken in such a sweet, soothing tone that it made your heart do backflips, a seductive check-in on your mental state and willingness. You nodded against the mattress with a little moan.

“I can- Fuck, I can handle it,” you cried, “Take me, use me.”

He let out a rumbling moan and leaned forward, fingers snarling in your hair and yanking back with a sigh.

“That’s right. This tight little pussy takes me so damn well. Gonna fuck you and make you come so hard you can’t walk afterward,” he snarled.

You felt like a marionette doll, bent and twisted to his desires, and it felt so fucking satisfying. Every stroke of his cock did unbelievable things to that bundle of nerves deep in your core, and as he moved faster, you could feel your climax taking hold.

“Yeahhh, I can feel you tightenin’ love. You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, “That’s it, be a good girl and come for daddy now.”

All at once everything coalesced and your vision went black as your world slammed down around you. As he fucked you from one climax right into the next, you felt the tears you’d been fighting finally fall, streaming down your cheeks under the paralyzing rapture. It felt like it was never-ending but then he pulled out, leaving you a babbling mess.

“Wha-”

Your question was cut off as he grabbed your hips and tossed you over onto your back. The instant you were facing him, he lifted you up and you were quick to wrap your legs around his hips for balance, one hand on the bed and the other hooked around his neck. As he ducked down, you welcomed his kiss as if it were life-saving.

No words were spoken beyond grunts and moans of euphoria but there was no denying the conversation flowing between your bodies. Overwhelming and heart-pounding, desire filled your veins and urged you forward to nibble at his throat.

“Come with me, John, please.”

The cry that left his lips as you bit into his neck was devastating and immediately he buried himself as far as possible into you, sending you over once more as his hips shuddered against yours. You thought mindlessly about how there was no better sensation in the world than the twitching of his cock when he came inside you as you trailed your tongue up his neck with a moan. It was the most primal, instinctive claim one could ever have over another.

“Jesus,” he sighed shakily.

You managed a little whimper of agreement as he slowly pulled out. As soon as he moved back, you collapsed onto the bed with a whine.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice somewhere between amused and actually worried.

You flashed him a thumbs-up and caught his gaze with a loopy smile. His answering smirk made your body react and a groan escaped again.

“Stop being so sexy. It almost hurts,” you whined.

Laughter filled the room joyously as he plopped down onto the bed next to you. As he drew you in closer, one hand found yours and brought it to his lips. Eyes fluttering open, a rush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you realized how intently he was watching you.

“What?” you asked curiously.

“Just admirnin’ you, darlin’,” he replied easily, “You sure you’re okay?”

A hum of agreement left your lips before you flipped your hand over and laced your fingers between his. You weren’t certain where this put the two of you, but it certainly seemed like more than a one-night stand. You hoped.

“When does Emma get back?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment before replying, “Should be back Sunday night, why?”

He drew your hand to his mouth once more, this time pressing little kisses to each fingertip.

“Unless you’ve got other things to do, how would you feel about me staying tonight and I can make us breakfast in the morning?”

You bit your lower lip in hopes of containing some of the surely stupid joy rolling off of you in waved as you gave a little nod. He smiled back warmly but there was a look of uncertainty that passed through his gaze as his other hand sunk into your hair, drawing goosebumps across your skin as he played with the strands.

“And then, if you can put up with me for long enough, I want to take you and the munchkin out for dinner Sunday night. How’s that sound?”

At that, you could no longer contain your excitement. Rolling to face him, you leaned up and caught his mouth in a sweet kiss, trying to convey just how happy that idea made you.

“I’d love to, and I know Emma would be ecstatic. She really adores you,” you admitted warmly.

“Good, now, we’ve got plenty of time until morning and the electricity isn’t even back on yet,” he murmured deviously, fingers tauntingly sliding down your stomach to your thighs, “What say we work on conquering your hatred of the dark, aye?”

#captain price x reader #captain price smut #cod fanfic #cod smut #captain john price

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m0chisenpai · 1 year

Note

Hi I saw this tiktok

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJQPcU84/

And I immediately thought of prowler! Miles x fem reader

If your taking requests I would be really grateful if you considered this ❤️

-🕸️

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

42!Miles Morales x black!fem!!reader

YO so I have been wondering how would the earth 42 version of the spidergirl!reader I have already and I feel like this just confirmed she needs to be THAT girl

You were his type. You could hold your own down Miles knew that much when he witnessed you beating the brakes off a girl down the street for coming at one of your friends. The way you casually laid the girl out and fixed your hair, took your bag from your friends and continued on your way. Boy was SPRUNG and his friends clown him bout it for DAYS

Guys came and went in your life. They never lingered and you liked it that way. You never let them set you up. You were always five steps ahead. Were quick to cut them off before things got messy, and you grew bored easily.

This however, caught Miles completely off guard when he flashed you that lazy smile and cooed at you in the middle of calculus asking if you could tutor him after school to which you replied “do I look like I know what I’m doing?” And turned your pretty ass back around

The guys who COULD survive you and live to tell the tale all mentioned one similar thing in common: your temper and your stubborn behavior and Miles could attest to both when before school he watched as you sat on the curb refusing to get in homeboys car because of a text message that you saw on his phone that lie cracked and chipped just a few feet from you

You played the game easily with boys. They played checkers while you were playing chess but sometimes you wondered if there was anyone out there, even as much as you enjoyed plucking boy hearts like Valentine’s Day candy hearts, something soft and sweet deep down in that heart of yours yearned to be loved

When Miles asked you what was up with you during fifth block calc you said the ceiling and told him to kindly fuck off once again. Next class he continued to speak with you like that conversation never happened. The cycle continued for a good two weeks, Miles attempting that pretty boy charm and you brushing him away like he was a fly on the wall

He liked a little challenge, a little bark AND bite and not because he wanted to conquer you oh no, he loved your fire and he wanted to stoke your fire in you. He wanted to pour the gasoline a top of it and watch you burn bright and beautiful

Miles stood outside of your locker that you opened up and he caught when you intended for it to crack him in his nose. "Morales, I'm not one of your bitches. If you think you can play me like one, respectfully fuck off."

And he raised a brow and tilted his head, "you not a bitch that's for sure. And I never said you was one. I know you smart, I know how you play and get down. So like I’m gon ask you again, what is up with you Y/N?"

Silence. but the corner of your brown lined lips turns up slightly and you suppose you'll entertain Morales.

You and Miles were THAT couple, one second ya’ll were friends and the next thing he’s checking on you between classes, waiting outside of school to walk you home, and chopping it with your homegirls who gush and rave about he wasn’t like the last bum you were talking to

No one can pinpoint when it happened, one second you were apart next thing you were Morales’ girl and he was L/N’s man

Miles never liked getting caught up with females, it never ended good and his ‘part time job’ always got in the way of relationships but things with you were different

You didn’t press Miles on why he wasn’t responding late at night, never chided him for handling his business, and you damn sure didn’t care when he talked to other females. Miles wonders why the world hid such a rare Godsend from him because you gave him little to NO headaches when it came to petty matters he dealt with

When he introduces you to Mama Rio she falls in love with you and Miles nearly cackles at how soft his mom makes you, she grills you on her son and tells you that if her boy messes up or does anything wrong to let her know IMMEDIATELY and you and his uncle are on good terms and he tells you the same thing his sister in law said

Just as much as Miles spoils you, you return the favor

He cashapps you for a fresh set? You send your baby something back to get a fresh line up and touch his braids up. You’ve got dozens of his barber pics and videos saved and he’s got your fresh sets and hair saved in his phone as well

Ya’ll got matching kicks I don’t care if it’s corny ya’ll do and you kindly told the bitch drooling over your man at the store the shoes while she was checking ya’ll out it was gonna take more than fluttering them patchy little minks at your man to get his attention

It takes some time till you expose a softer bit of you, a more gentle part. You lost your father, and thats why it pains you to see Mr.Morales whenever he is by, but Miles’ father sees a daughter in you and is so sweet on you it melts your heart

As much as he loved how you can hold yours down, it takes time and patience to chip past that hyper independence you’ve built. Your walls were built on hurt and pain and Miles knew not to force his way in, but you could be so stubborn headed. The first night the two of you really went at it was after you’d gone over Miles’ apartment and attempted to call an Uber back home at 2am.

“I know you fucking lying” Miles’ voice broke the silence from falling asleep during a Netflix marathon. As soon as he felt you lift your head from his chest his eyes snapped open “a dónde vas mami?” Any other night that raspy post sleep tone would have you weak in the knees and right back in his arms, but not tonight.

“Miles I don’t got no bag to spend the night and I need my stuff” Miles rolls his eyes and reaches to grab your hand to stop you from putting your slides back on.

“Y/N be for real its two in the damn morning you not going home.” You know instantly he’s not playing, you were rarely called by your first name.

“Miles I’m not staying here, I don’t got my tooth brush, face wipes, nothing now let me go” you snatch your hand and now Miles is sitting up completely.

“Who you talking to like that?”

“You and what?” You raise both brows at him. But his face stays neutral. He sucks on his teeth then he’s looking up at you, but its in a way that makes you freeze from hitting request ride.

“I’m not letting my girl go home this late, before you started running your mouth I was bout to tell you, you left your bag here with your stuff and I got you a skill scarf already. You done with the attitude now? I’m tired and need you in my arms sleep so I can sleep.”

Miles can rarely recall what shock looks like on your face. But he fights the urge to yank his phone of the charger so he can capture the way you sit your phone next to his and pull your hoodie off to leave yourself in your tank.

“You ain’t have to get all domestic” you grumble as you sit on the bed and pull your slides and socks off.

“I know baby, my bad. M’ just tired” he mumbles and you feel his hand slide up your back and trail your spine down. You can’t help but take in how tired he does look, how tonight was his one of many rare nights off from work. And so you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, slow and steady.

“I’m gonna shower real quick love” you whisper against his lips when he finally releases you. And you watch as his eyes slowly droop shut and his arm slides off of you. His breathing slows back down and once he’s asleep you’re walking toward toward the closet picking the duffle up reaching deep inside till you feel the silk of your clothes. Black and red and large white eyes glare at you, reminding you that you have work tonight.

Yiu want to feel bad for putting MIles to sleep, but his peaceful snores are more than enough to take the twang off as you slide the mask over your face ready to set off where you originally meant.

“Black Widow, what’s taking you so long?”

“Sorry sir, ready for tonight’s target.”

And who were you to leave the streets to what men? You don’t think so.

#miles morales imagine #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42!milesmorales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42!miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales #ask mochi #atsv requests

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bokutooooo · 1 year

Text

Dream Ride

warnings: strong language! flirting? age gap!! (LEGAL)

"Hey Neela, who's this red neck?" I laugh and Neela rolls her eyes. "This is Sean he just moved here try to be nice." "Hey nice to meet you y/n" he puts out his hand "Hey, have you showed him around yet?". "Yeah I showed him around a bit, you coming tonight?" "I think so my car finally ready, i'm so excited to show it off."

Neela and I are getting ready at my house. "Soooo going to make a move yet? I mean you guys eye fuck each other all the timeeee, you've had a crush on him for years." I laugh "He's turning thirty In like 3 years" "so what? I think you should make a move, It's likely he feels the same". It's true me and Han do flirt a lot but it never went anywhere, plus he is way older than me. "yeah yeah, just keep getting ready missy"..

We pull into the the race centre In my newly improved Nissan Skyline GT-R, of course it isn't just a boring plain car It's pink and white with a glossy finish don't even get me started on the interior. "this car Is so hot, I love it" I smile, proud of what I did "I know right! it's so perfect". I park In a spot near Twinkie's Hulk themed car, makes me grin every time I see it. Neela's already talking to Sean as I'm speaking with Twinkie "I see you're already best friends with red neck huh?" "yeah, seems chill, thought maybe he'd like to come with me tonight. He's seems really into cars." I look over my shoulder at Neela and Sean "You know DK's going to get mad right? Just look, already glaring at him." twinkie looks over, DK already on the move, eyes widen he's quick to rush over. I'm quick to follow behind him "Hey hey hey DK how's going I see you met Sean" I look over at Neela who looks a bit worried. Neela and DK have been dating? for awhile, I mean I don't know if I'd call it dating but best friends with benefits? DK has always been possessive over Neela but sometimes it's a bit much. "Who's this gaijin?!" Neela steps In front but Twinkie is quick to speak up "DK he's here with us, we don't want any problems just here to race. "really? can he drift." I swallow, Sean is probably so confused. "I can race, wanna race?" Twinkie and I look at each other wondering if we just heard the same thing. Now don't get me wrong DK doesn't scare me just I know damn well he's an amazing racer and going up against him Is kind of dumb, especially If you're Sean and have never seen DK race before. DK chuckles "alright gaijin sure, but uh whatcha gonna race with? that?" he looks over at the Hulk car. "He can use mine, see what the kid's got."

I recognize that voice so fast I don't even need to turn around to see who it is. "Really Han? gonna let this kid race with your car? .. alright I won't stop you, I can add it to my collection." he smirks he knows he'll win.

Me and Neela are listening to Twinkie lecture Sean about his stupid decision "Do you even know what DK stands for?" Twinkie crosses his arms waiting for a reply. "No? Donkey Kong?" I laugh and shake my head "It means DRIFT KING Sean, basically Twinkie's telling you that you're going to get you're ass kicked." I smile and watch Sean's face "Maybe I'll win? you never know" "the chances of you winning red neck are slim to none, than you'll have to pay back Han". I lean back against my car, "What about me?" I turn to see Han shoving his mouth full with chips. I smile seeing him shoveling food in his face he's always eating "just explaining what's going to happen after he loses" "hey have some faith in him, maybe he'll win".

"keyword Han. MAYBE, I just feel bad for you sucks you're gonna lose another car." He just laughs and looks at Sean "just try, you'll still owe me though."

"alright let's go! chop chop!!" Han hands his keys over to Sean to his 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX. "Han man this car is too nice for this."

Han shrugs "Y/n lets go up a level" Neela tugs at my arm "alright good luck Sean, see you at the finish line.. if you ever make it..." I giggle walking towards the elevator. "wait up!" twinkie and Han jogging towards us.

The elevator Is filled with the talking of Neela and Twinkie, the two of them stand close to the door while me and Han are In the back. I watch as Han leans down, "Hey y/n how have you been? it's been a minute since we last talk, missed you" he whispers it so Nel and Twinkie can't hear. "Just been working on Kai, finished her a couple days ago. I'll show you after if we go back to the garage." He's teasing me..I know he is, and I'm enjoying every second of it. "Sure, forgot you name them. I know you've been working on her for awhile, congrats." I smile and the doors open, we step out into the crowd of people. Music's blasting and people are shoving their tongues down each others throat, dancing/gridding. "Do you guys really think he'll win this" i ask looking at Neela and Han "probably not but why not give it a shot"

"Okay!! Let's get this started!!!" a girl steps up between the two cars who keep revving their engines while glaring at one another. "READY?" she looks at the two cars "SET.." the room goes silent for maybe 3 seconds. "GOO!!" and off! both cars race off around the building, twists and turns and all you can hear is screeching noise of the tires. There're quick to go up another level and people rush to get up there. "Come on!" Neela grabs my hand as we run.. or at least try to In our heels.

Once we reach upstairs everyone waits patiently to see who will reach the finish line first. And whoosh! DK stops perfectly, I sigh but already knew what the outcome would be. a minute later Sean screeches In and stops. People are cheering and surrounding DK as I walk towards the scratched up, dented car. Han, Twinkie and Neela are already talking to Sean "You own me a car red." Twinkie's laughing and Neela's talking with Sean. "So that didn't really go to plan huh?"

"Yeah guess not, but I'll just practice till I know for sure I can beat him" I just chuckle at his remark "Han, maybe you can teach him how to drift, a couple of lessons wouldn't hurt." Han turns to me and smirks "maybe you should baby" I glance at him, cheeks reddening at the nickname "why because I drift better than you?" I raise an eyebrow at him with a cocky grin on my face. "whatever you say"

"I wish you'd just race me already! I've been waiting so long" I groan, he smiles "maybe later" he shrugs "you always say thattt!" walking to his car "meet me at the garage, think there's a party going on." I turn back to Sean Twinkie and Neela.

"you guys up for it?"

-----------

Might make another part^!

#Han lue #tokyo drift #fast and furious #racing #tokyo #drifting #movie series #street racing #Sung Kang #movie #x reader #writeblr #han lue x reader #cars

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algodon-de-azucar09 · 5 months

Text

🧀Monterrey Jack 🧀

Este ✨rAtA✨ enserio me hace feliz jsjdjsjd

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nataliasquote · 7 months

Text

Double the trouble [pt. 5] | n romanoff

Double the trouble au

Summary: Y/n faces some difficult feelings, whilst Isla decides to take matters into her own hands, making decisions that could fall flat on their face

Warnings: none, major fluff

Pairings: WandaNat, Maria Hill x reader

wc: 3.7k

- ⧗ -

"So did you kiss her?" Clint asked, spinning a pair of drumsticks around his fingers as he eagerly awaited an answer. But Maria just wrinkled her nose at him, disgusted.

"She's my best friend, idiot. Don't paint us like that."

Clint shrugged. "I'm just saying, she's single now, so you can shoot your shot. It's been what, 5 years? At this point you're going to be waiting your entire life to get the girl you want."

If looks could kill, Clint would be in the ground. Maria hated that he was right, but she didn't want to ruin the friendship she treasured so much. Y/n was her closest friend, the one she told everything to. They'd been inseparable since middle school and Maria didn't know what she'd do without her.

That night on the couch was purely to comfort Y/n. It didn't mean anything else. They always hugged, Y/n was a touchy person, and Maria just wanted to be there for her. But she would be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that wanted to hold the redhead tight and never let her go.

But Y/n was vulnerable and had made it pretty clear she wasn't going to be dating anytime soon. Bucky may not be on her mind as much, but she still had scars that hadn't quite healed.

"I'm not going to ruin our friendship Clint, and that's final. And if you say anything to her, I will not hesitate to chop your dick off." Her cold glare told him she meant it. And who was he to mess with her?

But as the weeks trickled by and everyone started excitedly chatting about the upcoming winter formal, Maria couldn't help but daydream. She'd stumble over her own feet to ask Y/n to the dance as her date, feeling on top of the world with the redhead on her arm. But Y/n would probably find a date by herself, because best friends just didn't go together.

"You've got your thinking face on again," Y/n noted, stealing a chip from the open packet on the table. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about finals, that's all."

Y/n hummed and crossed her ankles over. Her legs were draped across Maria's lap as they lounged on the couch, a random chick flick playing in the background on the large living room tv. "What about the winter formal? Any cute girls catching your attention?"

Maria took her opportunity to busy herself with her drink, taking extra long sips to buy herself some time. "Nope. Not really." Little liar. Well, kind of. Because Y/n was so much more than just a 'cute girl'.

"I would have thought you'd have been asked by now," Y/n said after fiddling with her phone for a little bit. "Wait, did I ever show you my dress? I bought it with Mama the other week and it's perfect." She held up her phone up to show her best friend and Maria's heart skipped a beat.

It was only a generic image from google, but the brunette couldn't help but let her imagination run wild at the thought of Y/n wearing it. The emerald green satin was simple but effective, and the thigh high slit in the side set her heart racing. There was no doubt in her mind that Y/n would look like a goddess wearing it and her heart clenched. Someone was going to be really lucky to have her.

"You'll look beautiful," Maria said softly, her eyes flicking up to look at Y/n over the top of the phone. "Your date will be pinching themselves."

Y/n blushed, ducking behind her hair as it swung forward over her shoulder. "At this rate I'll be going alone. But I don't care. I'm more excited about the dress." Y/n knew exactly who she wanted to take her to the dance, but asking her was too much of a risk. Maria had her eyes on other girls for sure.

Maria left after the movie ended to get home to her mom, leaving Y/n on the couch. Isla was out on a date with Valkyrie so there was not much else for Y/n to do. She wandered into her moms' room where Natasha was reading a book, glasses halfway down her nose.

"Mama?" She knocked on the door even thought it was open because Natasha was known to be jumpy. But the older redhead just looked up and smiled, placing her book closed by her side.

"Hey malyshka, is everything ok?" She noticed Y/n's hesitant body language and patted the space beside her on the large kingside bed. "Has Maria gone home?"

Y/n nodded as she climbed up, settling under Natasha's arm and cuddling into her side. "How did you know you liked girls?" She blurted out, screwing her eyes shut. There was supposed to be a build up but clearly her brain was more eager to learn.

Natasha's brows shot up in surprise and she was glad Y/n couldn't see the smile she was suppressing. "What makes you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Well, the very first time I saw your mom in the meeting room back at the agency, I couldn't get out of my head. I hadn't thought about my sexuality much beforehand, but she just made everything make sense."

Natasha and Wanda never really spoke much about their time working for the government. They just referred to it as 'The Agency' days, never once disclosing the true name of the organisation. But both Y/n and Isla knew their moms had been spies in their youth, so they never pushed them for more information. A dance studio owner and stay at home mom suited them a lot better in their opinion.

"So you didn't like anyone before you met Mom?"

"I suppose I had a boyfriend at some point, but it never really felt right. Sort of like a means to an end, in a way."

"But then with mom it felt different?"

Natasha loved how soft Y/n was being. She was the more gentle one out of the two, but rarely did she open up about topics quite like this. It made Natasha hold her that little bit tighter.

"I couldn't imagine a life without her," Natasha admitted, getting lost in memories in her mind. Barely twenty five years old and completely head over heels for a gorgeous auburn haired woman with mind reading abilities. "She was the reason I kept going."

"How did you tell her how you felt?" Her moms' love story was everything she aspired to have in life. Even twenty years later they still were just as in love with each other as they were when they were younger. "What if she didn't even like girls?"

Natasha let out a laugh. "Trust me, sweetheart, there was no way your mom was into guys. And there was also no way I was going to let her get away without at least telling her how I felt."

"You make it sound so easy," Y/n grumbled, slumping down into the mattress. She was beginning to hate relationships. Why did they require so much brain power? She wanted everything to just pan out the way she wanted, but unfortunately that required a lot of effort.

"May I ask where this is coming from?" Natasha could take an accurate guess, but she wanted to hear it straight from Y/n before she concluded anything.

"Nothing, I just-"

Natasha gently gave her daughter a nudge. "Y/n, you don't have to hide anything from me. I'm your Mama, I thought we had no secrets?" Natasha was not pushing her to come out in any way, but she also didn't like seeing her youngest so troubled. If it was something they could sort out together, then she would rather know.

But Y/n just mumbled something and buried her face in her mother's side, slipping down the bed away from her sitting position. Natasha shook her head at her antics and gently stroked her back, just like she did when her girls were little.

"If you actually spoke so I could understand, that would help," she teased. "Preferably English, but if Russian or Sokovian is what you prefer then I'll allow that too."

Y/n untucked her head and lightly glared at her mother who just raised her eyebrows, still waiting for her response. There was no getting out of this one now.

"I just don't know what to do. Every time I see her I feel all bubbly inside and everything she does is just so perfect but she's my best friend and I can't risk messing this up because I don't want to lose her and-"

"Ok, ok, and breathe." Y/n's words flowed out like word vomit and Natasha thought her daughter might pass out before she managed to finish her sentence. "Now, who is this about?"

"Maria," the young redhead mumbled barely above a whisper. "I'm being stupid, I know."

"You're not stupid baby, not at all." Y/n still wasn't convinced. But her head was tucked so tightly against Natasha that she didn't hear Wanda enter the room. The Sokovian paused at the door, a pile of folded laundry tucked under her arm as she processed the scene in front of her. Natasha brought her finger to her lips and shook her head and Wanda nodded, shifting her weight to lean against the doorframe.

"I am stupid because she's going to hate me and never be friends with me again because falling for your best friend is the dumbest thing I could do and she doesn't even feel the same way and I-"

"Malyshka you're going to work yourself up into a panic attack if you don't slow down and breathe." Natasha could feel Y/n's stress radiating through her as she dragged her fingertips up her daughter's spine gently. Wanda's brows furrowed as she watched, her heart aching for her youngest.

"I just don't want to mess it up Mama." Y/n finally brought her head up and looked at Natasha, her eyes glossy with tears. "She's my best friend."

"You know, Nat was my best friend before we got together,” Wanda finally made her presence known, much to her daughter’s surprise. “Almost as close as you and Maria are now.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed, looking at Natasha and then back to Wanda. “How did you know who I was talking about?”

“Mothers know everything.” She gracefully moved over to the dresser and placed the clothes in their rightful places. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance with these things. But don’t rush it or force it, if it wants to happen, it will. But what I do know is that Maria cares for you an awful lot, so I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

Wanda wasn’t wrong. Maria looked at Y/n as though she hung the stars in the sky. She’d do anything for that special redhead, including supporting her from afar when she decided to date someone else. Maria thought the world of her best friend, but Y/n had been too blind to see it.

Google wasn’t nearly as helpful as her moms had been, yet somehow Y/n found herself scrolling through article after article of different advice forums telling you what to do if you have a crush on your best friends. Probably not the best use of her time at 2am on a sunday morning, especially when the horror stories vastly outweighed the positive ones. She finally fell asleep far more anxious than she was before.

A zombie was probably the most accurate description of Y/n��s state when she finally emerged from her room several hours later. She stared into space across the breakfast table, lazily dipping her croissant into her jam and chewed similarly to that of a camel. Isla eyed her sister warily, looking over at Natasha for help. But Natasha only shook her head, telling her to leave her be.

But what was Isla if not nosy? She basically skipped along the hallway to her sister’s room sometime after lunch, letting herself and heading straight for the bed. Y/n barely had time to protest before she felt her mattress dip beside her and she tugged off her headphones with a scowl.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Nope!” Isla said with a smirk. “What’s the secret?”

Y/n pressed pause on her youtube video. “What secret?”

“The secret everyone else knows but me. I’m not leaving until you tell me.” To prove her point, Isla crossed her ankles and tucked her hands behind her head, leaning back on the neatly arranged pillows at the top of the bed. “I’m comfy so I can wait as long as you need.”

“There is no secret, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A moment of silence hung between the girls and Isla studied the ceiling, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling catching her attention. They’d lasted for years, except for the occasional one that would fall off in the middle of the night and hit Y/n in the face.

“So then it’s nothing to do with you and Maria pining over each other but neither of you actually doing anything about it?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide and she turned over her shoulder, jaw dropping on shock. “What did you just say?”

“Are you seriously that blind? I thought I was the only one who needed glasses. Clearly not.” Isla opened her eyes and looked at her sister, stifling a laugh as she caught sight of her face. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“What? I don’t-“

“Then my work here is done.” Isla scrambled off the bed and ran down the stairs, trying to escape her sister who yelled after her, hot on her heels. “Mom save me!” She cried, sliding across the kitchen tiles in her socks, grabbing onto a chair so she didn’t slip over. Wanda froze with her hands in the air, taken completely by surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Isla Marie, get back here!” Y/n yelled, appearing on the other side of the table as her sister. Wanda and Natasha were caught slap bang in the middle of this stand off, looking up from their computers as Y/n narrowed her eyes at her twin sister who was grinning her head off.

Western music should have started playing, but instead the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, breaking Y/n out of her trance.

“I think you should get it,” Isla said with a knowing look in her eye. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Wanda who just shrugged, just as clueless. “Go on.”

Y/n glared at her but turned around all the same, wandering to the front door. Isla kept her distance but followed, loitering in the hallway behind her. A package delivery? Or a neighbour? They rarely had visitors on a Sunday.

But the figure at the door was less like their usual UPS delivery guy and more like the slightly form of Maria Hill. She smiled softly as Y/n opened the door, her head just peaking up over a large bouquet of red and white flowers.

The redhead froze with her hand on the door, eyes almost bulging out of her head. Her mind was filled with nothing but static, all words tumbling from grasp. Isla stood behind her with her arms folded as she leaned against the wall, a cocky smirk on her face. Sister of the year award sure went to her alright.

Wanda and Natasha had come to investigate the mystery visitor but were stopped by Isla’s arm. The three redheads watched from afar, Wanda pouting from how adorable the scene before them was.

“Hi,” Maria started, breaking the slightly awkward silence as she shifted the flowers in her arm. “You look really pretty.”

Y/n’s outfit was nothing spectacular; it was sunday after all. She’d just opted for some loose cream lounge pants and a dark green crop top, but the winter sun had caught her hair and eyes, making the vibrant red and green pop even more. But Y/n could wear a trash bag and Maria would still think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Thank you,” Y/n was slightly hesitant fuelled by her utter confusion. What was happening? “You do too.”

“Y/n, look,” Maria began, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to get everything off her chest. “I can’t wait around anymore. I don’t know how else to say this except saying it outright, but I like you. I really like you. And not just in a ‘you’re my best friend’ way, but in a way I can’t even describe. I adore everything that you do, the way you never fail to make other people laugh and the way your heart is so kind and caring to those around you. I love the way you listen so intently and remember the smallest details. The way you never fail to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world whenever we are together.”

Y/n was stunned at the words falling from her best friend’s lips. She was so overwhelmed that she didn’t notice the tears building up in her eyes as she listened, her lip trembling slightly. It was like a weight lifted off her chest, the stress of yesterday washing away with every word that Maria spoke.

“Clint made me realise that I can’t spend another day hiding the way I feel about you. I’m scared about losing what we have, but to me you’re worth taking that risk. I lost you to Bucky, and now I have you back I’ve realised I don’t ever want to lose you again. So please Y/n, will you be my date to the formal, and beyond that?”

Maria was slightly breathless as she finished her speech, her brain only just catching up with what she’d said. She poured her heart out, unable to stick to the mental script she’d planned in the car on the way over. Just looking at Y/n made her mind freeze over and she felt how shaky her legs suddenly felt.

“Maria,” Y/n started, so overcome with emotion that the tears had started to roll down her cheeks. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” The brunette let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and pushed the bouquet into Y/n’s arms with a relieved smile. “I was really scared.”

“Of what?”

“That you didn’t feel the same way I did. But now I know you do, and-“

Y/n was cut off by a pair of lips gently pressing themselves onto hers. It was a bold move, even Isla was taken by surprise, but Y/n quickly reciprocated before it ended. She was grinning like an idiot, yet still crying, her emotions all over the place.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Maria admitted and Y/n nodded, too choked up to speak but she so desperately wanted to agree. The young redhead had found herself dreaming about what it would be like to kiss her far too many times, but the real thing exceeded all of her expectations.

Y/n pulled her into a hug and held her tightly with her free arm, the other one holding her new favourite flowers out the way. She felt so relaxed, her body releasing all the tension of the past few weeks out in a single movement.

“Oh come on, I didn’t even get to do my trick!” A familiar voice whined as they hugged. Y/n let out a watery laugh as Maria gently wiped her tears and they turned around to see Clint with his bow and arrow beside a large covered up sign. “That’s not what we planned!”

“Sorry dude, my feelings got the better of me. But go ahead, why not.”

With a grumble, Clint stepped back and shot his arrow with perfect accuracy, watching as it sliced through the blank red paper and revealed the large, excessively glittery sign behind it. The paper didn’t split all the way so he scrambled over and quickly pulled the rest down, but the chaos just made Y/n laugh more. The lump in her throat didn’t subside but she welcomed the distraction.

“That was my initial way of asking you to the dance,” Maria admitted, gesturing to the large ‘Will You ‘Formal-ly Be My Girl’ sign now propped up on the front lawn. It was an adorable sign and Y/n nodded, even though she’d already agreed.

“Yes! Of course I will!” They both laughed and Maria pulled her in by the waist, careful not to crush the flowers as their lips met again. The sweetest, lightest kiss was exchanged, setting the butterflies in Y/n’s chest stampeding throughout her entire body. There was no way she was ever going to get used to that.

“About damn time!” Isla stepped forward and clapped, grinning widely.

“Did you know?” Y/n asked, looking between Maria and Isla. “You were involved?”

“Y/n, it was getting painful watching you two skirt around each other like that. And I know you, I saw the way you act when Maria would leave, almost as if there were thunderclouds around your head. Even if you hadn’t figured it out, the rest of us had.”

Y/n frowned. That was the second time everyone else had figured it out before she had. Was she really that unaware?

Natasha leaned into Wanda’s arms as they watched from the doorway, smiles breaking out across their faces as the almost sickly sweet young love in front of them. Y/n looked the happiest she had in months, barely able to take her eyes off Maria even as Isla chatted away. She was completely head over heels.

“Did we do this?” Natasha whispered to her wife. “Did we subconsciously make both our girls like women?”

Wanda laughed, pulling her closer into her side. “There was never any doubt with Isla, and Y/n took a little longer to come round. But I knew we’d never have a boy in the house.”

“Oh, you did?” Natasha asked with a smirk. “Confident?”

“Call it a mom instinct.”

#double the trouble au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #maria hill

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amsznn · 7 months

Text

FOOLISH - c. sturniolo

part 2 — part 1 here part 3 here

warnings: slight cursing, toxic relationship

chris 🚫

hey

your phone illuminated with a text sent by the one person part of you unfortunately still loved and part of you actually despised.

you didn’t bother to answer, even though you really wanted to. you couldn’t be pulled back into the same cycle once again. it’s happened one too many times so you knew his scheme all too well.

this was the thing with chris. you’d catch him cheating, you put on a strong act for a while, then he texts, and you get roped in once again. he knew you too well. he knew how to get you back. but maybe not this time.

you laid flat on your stomach, attempting to get some sleep, before you heard a knock on your door. you groaned while laying there for a moment, hoping whoever it was would go away.

the knocks only got louder and more obnoxious. you swung your legs off the side of your bed and made your way to the front door. you unlocked it to reveal your other best friend.

nick.

“what are you doing here?”

“well hello to you too.” nick said while making his way inside. you watched as he kicked his shoes off, then your eyes traveled to the huge duffel bag he was carrying. slightly amused you crossed your arms against your chest.

“nick what are you doing here?”

nick huffed before dropping his duffel bag on the floor. “my two brothers are being fucking idiots as always,” he started before making his way to the kitchen, you followed to hear the rest of his rant. “so me, being the smart person that i am, thought ‘why not just have a sleepover with my best friend?’”

he opened one of your cabinets and pulled out a bag of chips. “hence, why ive graced you with my presence.” you could only laugh at nick, knowing full and well his brothers had to be really pissing him off for him to uber all the way here.

“better for me, i couldn’t sleep anyways.” you said while making your way towards him, to also stuff your face with sole chips.

“great, ‘cus i wanna watch a dance moms marathon.”

you and nick spent the whole night watching shows, making tiktoks, and eating a lot of snacks. in the end you both ended up crashing on your bed, completely exhausted.

now the sun was shining through your curtains. causing you to awake from your slumber. nick on the other hand was still knocked out so you decided not to disturb him.

you were busy doing your skin care when you heard what sounded like nick waking up from his sleep.

“y/n, i think im gonna make matt pick me up,” nick paused for a moment before yelling again. “we have a video to film.”

“okay, ill be out in a sec!” you yelled back. quickly washing your cleanser off. you made your way out of your bathroom and went to the kitchen where you found nick.

“want me to make breakfast?” you asked while looking through your fridge, looking for something to make.

“sure, but im gonna go shower.” nick rose from his seat on the kitchen island then treaded towards the bathroom.

you decided on just making acai bowls for the both of you. while chopping up some bananas you heard a knock on the door, you figured it was matt so you wiped your hands and made your way to the entrance.

cracking the door open slightly you could see matt’s figure. “hey, matt.” you smiled upon seeing your other friend. “hey y/n, is nick ready?”

you shook your head as you could hear the shower still running. “nope, he’s still in the shower.” matt sighed while checking his phone for the time.

“why don’t you come in though , i could make you breakfast too.” matt smiled at your offer and walked inside.

suddenly your eyes landed on another figure you did not know was standing there the whole time.

‘you have got to be kidding me.’ you thought. there stood chris, hands fidgeting with his phone. he was the first to speak up.

“hey, what’s up?”

you scoffed, he always did this. pretending like nothing ever happened. “are you fucking kidding me, chris?” you whisper-shouted so matt wouldn’t hear your dispute. you weren’t sure if they knew what was going on, heck you didn’t know if chris even told them you used to date. probably not since chris wanted to keep your situation ‘private.’

chris sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “lets not do this here, y/n”

“do what here?” you and chris’s attention shifted to nick who was standing in front of you two, wondering what all the whispering was about.

“nothing, are you coming in?” you quickly shifted the topic and your attention back to chris, inviting him inside. chris nodded and stepped inside.

the three of you made your way to matt who seated at the kitchen island, eating one of the acai bowls you made. you didn’t mind though, since your appetite was basically gone.

you sat on the opposite end of nick, leaving chris to sit beside matt. you caught up with 2/3 of the boys. chris was in his own world, but his eyes lingered on you whenever you spoke, which made it somewhat difficult for you to remember your train of thought as your eyes met his.

once the boys were finished, nick grabbed his duffle bag and gave you a hug as goodbye. “i’ll see you this weekend?” he asked while making sure to thank you as well. you nodded and waved goodbye to both him and matt.

“i’ll be out in a sec.” chris called out to his brothers, to which they both nodded. this only made you roll your eyes in irritation, seeing as he wasnt letting up.

chris moved forward to where you were standing, wrapping his arms around your waist. you stood there frozen, knowing if you reciprocated his action, you’d be back to being wrapped around his finger.

chris frowned at this and moved back to meet his eyes with yours. “are you really gonna stay mad at me, baby?” his voice just above a whisper as his hand caressed your face.

“i saw you chris. i saw you with that girl, i saw everything.” you said trying to keep your tears at bay, not wanting to crumble in front of him.

chris gently wrapped one arm around you, while bringing one hand to softly push your head down on his shoulder. you couldn’t help it anymore, tears started streaming down your eyes in frustration with both him, and yourself. chris listened to your sniffles and occasionally hiccups as he swayed you side to side.

“m’ sorry, baby.”

“it was a mistake.”

he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, while resting his own there. “i’ll be better for you, okay?” he pushed you back and cupped both sides of your face with his hands.

“i promise.”

you knew this was all bullshit. you knew in a matter of time he would just be with another girl, in another bed. forgetting about you. if you knew all this, then why? why was it hard for you to push him away?

chris smiled as you nodded your head, accepting his apology. he closed the gap between you two, gently planting his lips onto yours, bringing you closer with each movement of his lips.

that was when you knew,

how foolish you were.

A/N: sorry guys, i thought i’d be done with this earlier today but i was super busy today. hope you enjoyed this part. part 3 soon, not a set date yet tho!

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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yellowwithalisp · 1 year

Note

could you possible write some headcannons for a hobie x a cottagecore/preppy reader? im a sucker for “opposites attract” romances 🥰

( cottagecore YESSSSS! I got this! using she/her reader for this! Ask if you want a part two!!- Yellow 💛🌻) (Not proofed read. ) "She livessy in the middle of the woods?" The Spider he was talking to on the elevator nods. "Yeah, she's not exactly my quote-on-quote. "man in the chair" but. She lives in the woods in a cabin. Bought herself a bit of land and made a house there. Grows her own food and everything. Has a weird thing with mushrooms." "A weird thing with mushrooms?"

"If you buy her anything with mushrooms on it, she will not stop smiling for at least five minutes straight.." Hobie hummed, his shoulders shifting slightly as his hands are resting in his pockets walking a bit more slowly to continue the conversation. "So she lives by her own rules."

"I haven't been able to see one person tell her what to do. I mean she's sweet as a bee but, she mainly follows her own rules." "She's go' good taste." He managed to convince her Spider to introduce her to him. They warped to her home and it really was in the middle of nowhere. There was smoke rising from the chimney of your house as they see someone moving around in the house. They waited outside as a woman stepped out onto her porch in a button-up vest and a ruffled dress as she picked over some herbs that were growing on the porch. The Spider waved as they started to approach her. Hobie followed from behind. Spider took off their mask and waved at her. She looked up from the herbs she was cutting for her food and looked at Spiderman and their friend. "A new friend from work I see?" She asked with a soft smile as she looked back down and started to pick some tomatoes that look ready to eat. Spider nods as they gestured to Hobie. "(Y/N), this is Spiderpunk, Spiderpunk." Hobie looked slightly annoyed. "C'ome on, you know I hate labels." (Y/N) smiled softly as she looked at the spike mohawk spider as she cut some salad greens. "Then would friend be alright to call you for now?" She asked as she smiled. Hobie nods as Spider looked back and forth at the two. "Ya, that's alright mate." She invited them to enter a house for a meal she was just about finishing making it when they arrived. "I wasn't expecting company but thankfully I made a bigger batch than normal hopefully you don't mind tacos."

She said that she brought the things that she cut from outside over to the cutting board and started chopping them up and putting them in small wooden bowls. "Spider can you grab three glasses of water please and put them on the table?" They nod head to say walked over to one of the cabinets and open up and grab three glasses with little mushrooms on them. Seeing the small mushrooms on the glasses reminded Hobie of something. He quietly stepped out for a moment through a portal outside he arrived back a few minutes later. He opened up the door and then walked back into the house with something behind his back. "So my friend here said you had a thing for mushrooms." the cottagecore girl was busy putting everything on the table as she paused and looked up at him. A smile on her face as she nods her head. "I just think they're adorable! And Their fun to go hunting for!" He pulled on a mushroom hat for behind his back and tossed it at her. She blinks and was surprised and quickly caught it and looked at the hat for a second, before holding it close to her chest spinning around happily. Spider looked over at Hobie and slowly put a chip in their mouth. "Smoth..." (Y/N) kissed the top of the hat and looked over at Spider. "He can stay."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #X reader #Spiderpunk #Spiderpunk x reader

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kaleldobrev · 1 year

Text

I Finally Get It

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean thinks he looks like a character from one of your favorite slasher films. You on the other hand...don't see the resemblance.

Original Prompt: Requested by @flory-alexandra | Hi, can you do something similar to -Spitting image-, but with Jensen's character from My Bloody Valentine

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Fluff, Dean & reader acting like children, Jealous Dean & reader

Authors Note: Okay, despite the fact that I absolutely loved both prompts, I decided to go with the My Bloody Valentine one because I don't think that movie gets as much love as it deserves as a slasher film (okay maybe I'm bias, but Jensen did great in that film!!). Plus, Halloween is coming up in like a month and this is right around the time I start watching my horror movies and My Bloody Valentine is on my list to watch every single year | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean as Soldier Boy version

For as long as you could remember you’ve always loved horror movies. You loved the cheesiness, the bad special effects, the horrible acting — just the camp of it all. Horror movies always brought you a strange sense of comfort and you couldn’t really pinpoint why; not until a couple of years ago anyway. “I like to watch movies where I know the bad guy is going to lose,” which is something that Dean said on a hunt a few years back that really seemed to resonate with you. That strange comfort that you always felt when it came to these movies started to click, make sense. This life — the hunting life, the bad guy losing wasn’t always a guarantee.

Horror movies was one of the initial things besides hunting that you and Dean had bonded over. It started out as going to one of your rooms when an All Saint’s Day marathon was on — lying in bed together binging on pizza, chips, soda, and beer. Then it evolved — evolved into asking one another if they wanted to watch a movie together because one of you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night. It evolved yet again — evolved into date nights once a week.

Today was the day, it was yours and Dean’s date night. Not only was it date night, but it was your week to pick the movie the two of you were going to watch. When it came to horror movie date night, you and Dean always alternated when it came to picking what movies you were going to watch. Although you enjoyed the movies that he tended to pick during his weeks, he always went with the same couple of movies; such as All Saint’s Day 4: Hatchet Man Lives, All Saint’s Day 5: The Search for David Yaeger or Hell Razer’s II: The Reckoning. Although you loved all three movies (thankfully you were able to convince him to no longer pick Hell Razer’s II — and for obvious reasons when you two started dating), you wished he picked something different; and that’s why you always cherished the weeks you had gotten to pick, as you rarely picked the same two or three movies.

As you were in the kitchen preparing some of the food for date night, Dean walked in with a few grocery bags in hand and placed them onto the counter that you were prepping food on. Looking up at him, he gave you the biggest grin as he watched you chopping up food on the cutting board. “Smells good Sweetheart. Whatcha making?”

You continued to chop away, your movements with the knife getting a tad faster. “I found this recipe on Pinterest that I wanted to try. It’s like this horror themed soup dish.” You said, bringing the vegetables you just cut up and placed them into the pot behind you.

“What’s in it?” He asked as he started taking out the beer he had just gotten from the grocery store out of the grocery bags.

“Lots of vegetables,” you began, Dean’s face scrunching in slight disgust, “and of course meat.” His face relaxed. “Vegetables won’t kill you Dean. It wouldn’t kill you to eat some once in a while.”

“I’m a warrior Y/N. Warrior’s don’t eat vegetables.” He said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You know who else won’t eat their vegetables Dean?” You began. “Toddlers. Are you a toddler Dean?” As he opened up his mouth to speak you cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”

“So, what movie did you pick for us to watch tonight?” He asked, opening up another grocery bag — but this time it was filled with snacks.

“My Bloody Valentine,” you smiled as you started working on the meat portion of the soup.

“Which one? The eighties version or the newer version?” He asked, taking a seat on the bar stool in front of where you were currently working.

“You know which one.” You smirked.

Dean let out a small chuckle. “The newer one.” He clicked his tongue, taking a beer and opening it. “It’s cause you think that the main guy is hot.” He grinned. “Might have to ban us from watching that one like how you banned me from watching Hell Razer’s II.”

You eyed him, giving him a look. “To be fair, I never slept with the actor who plays Tom.” Dean audibly gulped at your comment, and his face dropped.

“Okay fair enough.” He said taking a sip of his beer.

Once finishing up the soup you made for the both of you, you placed it on a tray along with some garlic bread, and other assorted snacks and made your way to Dean and yours shared bedroom; something that you still couldn’t believe was actually a thing. Sharing a bedroom with him wasn’t relatively new — you’ve been sharing it with him for the past couple of months, but it still seemed so odd to you; because for a majority of the time you had been living at the Bunker, you had your own room.

Walking into the bedroom Dean was already under the covers and had a beer on both side tables: one for him and one for you. As soon as you walked in, you shut the door behind you and he looked away from the television, giving you the biggest smile. “Let me help you with that Sweetheart,” he said getting up from underneath the covers.

“I got it don’t worry.” You said as he made his way toward you.

Placing his hands on the tray he said, “I insist,” and he smiled a reassuring kind of smile.

“Okay, if you insist.” You said, removing your own hands from the tray so it was only him holding it. Before he walked away he leaned in and gave you a quick peck, almost forgetting that there was a tray of hot food between the two of you that was easily spillable.

“So I already have the movie set up on the title screen, and I’m already tired of seeing that Tom guy’s face.” Dean said, placing the tray of food down on the bed before getting underneath the covers.

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice Dean?” You asked, smirking as you got under the covers yourself. He looked at you with a defensive look.

“Me? Jealous? Pfft. Please.” He said, his voice radiating jealousy. “That Tom guy has nothing on me.”

“Right. Totally not jealous.” You said, slightly sarcastic. “I’m gonna press play now.”

“Fire away.” His tone still jealous.

As the two of you were watching the movie, Dean couldn’t help but notice how happy you were to be watching it. Every so often when he looked over at you, your face was just radiating this type of joy — similarly to the way you would look at him; that’s when it started to hit him. He turned to you, and your eyes were completely glued to the screen. “You really love this movie don’t you?” He asked, this tone slightly curious.

You turned to look at him briefly, keeping that same kind of joyful smile on your face. “I really do. I don’t really know why. I mean, I like the eighties version too but…I don’t know. There’s just something I like more about this version for some reason.” You said, refocusing your attention back to the screen.

“You know, I think I might have a theory.” Dean said, and you turned back to him, curious about what he had to say.

“And what’s your theory?” You asked before taking the remote and pausing the movie.

"The main guy,” Dean began, pointing to the screen — thankfully you had paused at a part where there was a clear view of the main guy’s Tom’s face. “He looks exactly like me.” You looked at him with pure confusion. “What? You don’t think so?” Dean asked.

“I mean…” You sighed a little before doing a double take between looking at Dean and looking at the screen. “I don’t really see it.” You stated.

“You don’t…you don’t see it?” He asked, sounding as if he was a little disappointed. “I mean,” that’s when Dean got up from under the covers, almost knocking the tray completely over in the process and walked over to the television screen, “look. Look with your eyes.” Dean stood there, trying his best to create the same exact angle as Tom was in in the movie.

“Look with my eyes…what else would I be looking with?” you mumbled, slightly mocking his tone before rolling your eyes. “Okay, okay.” Getting up from the bed you walked over and stood barely a foot away from Dean and the television as you eyed them both, squinting every once in a while trying to see the resemblance. “I’m sorry babe. I don’t see it.”

Dean let out a frustrated groan. “Are you even looking?” He asked, his hands gesturing between himself and Tom. “We look exactly the same.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose closing your eyes for a moment. “Of course I’m fucking looking.” You said, clearly sounding frustrated. You looked up at him again. “I’m sorry babe, I’m just not seeing it.”

“How? You’re usually good at the whole similarities thing.” He said. “Like, like how we can basically watch anything and you can tell me how this random obscure actor was in this one thing you watched like 10 years ago.”

“Dean, as much as I love the compliment, that’s something completely different.” You told him. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve even seen this guy in any other than this. He’s…he’s kind of an obscure actor. Not really popular.”

Dean took a deep breath. As much as he had wanted to continue, to continue trying to convince you how much he did look like this guy, he decided to drop it…at least for now. “Fine.” He simply said.

“Fine?” You questioned. “Huh. Thought you’d have more fight than that hon.”

As soon as you said those words, you knew you had poked the bear. “I was going to drop it. Not now!” Dean said, his voice practically animated sounding.

You looked at him with pure confusion on your face. “Dean?”

“I know how we can settle this!” He said, pointing his finger at you.

“No.” You said.

He cocked a brow. “No?”

“You heard me,” you said, pointing your finger at him now. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” He asked, he sounded confused at your response.

“We aren’t getting Sammy involved.” You said, crossing your arms. You couldn’t believe you were having this ‘argument’ or ‘debate’ with him.

“Who said I was getting Sammy involved?” He sounded offended now.

“Whenever we’re arguing or debating, you always want to get Sammy involved as a neutral party.” You said, slightly defensive.

Dean scoffed. “You get him involved just as much as I do!” He almost yelled. You knew he was right. “Ha!” He pointed, like a child who thought that they were winning an argument.

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t believe you called me out like that.” You said, feigning hurt feelings.

“Aw Sweetheart,” he began, making his way toward you. He placed a hand on your cheek and looked down at you, giving you a gentle smile. “I’ll make it up to you.” He said, his voice calm.

“Hmm, and how are you going to do that?” You asked. Your own voice starting to become calm.

“Like this.” He started to lean down inches away from your lips, and you could smell a slight hint of beer on his breath. “As soon as we get this debate of ours settled,” he whispered before booping you on the nose.

You looked at him confused because he’s never done that to you before; you’ve only ever done that to him. “Did you just…boop me?” You asked, your voice matching the confused look.

“I sure did Sweetheart.” He grinned. “No wonder you do it so much, it’s actually kind of fun.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Dean Winchester?” He couldn’t help but laugh at your question.

“Come on Sweetheart, let’s go get Sammy.” He said before he started making his way out the bedroom. “Sammy!” He yelled.

“Dean!” You yelled, practically chasing after him down the hallway. “If I say I agree with you, will you not bother Sam?” You asked. “I kinda just want to get back to date night.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, and you almost slammed into him. “Shit.” He mumbled, turning around to look at you. “I’m ruining date night aren’t I?”

His facial expression that was once full of triumph quickly turned into hurt. “No, you’re not ruining date night Dean.” You reassured him. “It’s just…” you sighed. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s ask him tomorrow okay?”

He looked at you and you held out your hand ready to shake his. “Deal.” He said as the two of you shook on the compromise.

Later that night, as the two of you were lying in bed you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, looking at the crack in it that Dean has yet to fix. You let out a sigh and looked over at Dean who was sound asleep, softly snoring away lying on his stomach, his face in your direction.

Your hand instinctively touched his hair, almost pushing it back despite his hair not nearly being long enough to do that. But you did it anyway as you loved playing with his hair — the same way he loved playing with yours (although he would never admit it).

“Love when you do that,” Dean mumbled, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep Sweetheart?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “Just…just have a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?” He asked, his voice still slightly full of sleep.

“It’s just…” you sighed, hating what you were about to say as you were staring at his sleeping face — a face that you’ve examined so many times. “You were right.”

His eyes started to flutter open more, trying to get rid of the sleepiness. “Right about what?” He asked.

“About earlier.” You said; you couldn’t help but look at those green eyes of his, much similar in color to that of the actor who played Tom in the movie. “You…you look like the guy that plays Tom.”

A grin formed on his face at he looked at you. “What changed your mind Sweetheart?” You thought he’d be more excited about your admittance of him being right, but you guessed it was probably because he was still relatively half asleep.

“Just staring at your face.” You said. “God that sounds so freaking creepy.” You let out a small laugh.

“You’re hot, I’ll let it slide.” He joked. “So this means we don’t have to subject Sam to a horror movie tomorrow uh?”

“No. I think he’s safe for another week.” You let out a small laugh.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean was fully awake now.

“Anything.” You smiled, still playing with his hair.

“My theory before.” He said.

“That’s not a question Dean.” You said, he rolled his eyes.

“Was my theory right though? The reason you enjoy it so much is because I look like the guy?” He asked.

“Dean, I didn’t even realize you looked like him until like five minutes ago.” You said, a bit more sass than you had intended to have. “You know, what even brought you to that theory anyway?”

“Now it’s my turn to sound creepy,” he let out a small chuckle before continuing. “I was just staring at your face. The same way you looked at him is the exact same way you look at me.” He explained.

“You somehow made it less creepy.” You scoffed, slightly amused. “You know, I never realized I looked at you a certain way.” You cocked your head a bit to the side. “How do I look at you by the way?”

“Like I’m the hottest person that you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” He winked.

“Now that doesn’t seem right at all.” You teased. “You really do notice the small details uh?”

“Sure do.” He said. “Especially when they come to you.” You couldn’t help but smile softly as this comment. You leaned in and kissed him, the two of you smiling into it.

“I love you,” you whispered, unprompted.

“I love you too Sweetheart,” he said back.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @flory-alexandra If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x reader #dean x you #female reader #reader insert

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