#‘ nothing last forever radar ‘

[hawkeyeslaughter]

if there was one thing henry blake could do it was eat people UP with those one liners if he was annoyed enough

[beautifultragicdiary]

'Cause we lost it all

Nothin' lasts forever

I'm sorry I can't be perfect

Now it's just too late

And we can't go back

I'm sorry I can't be perfect..

Simple plan - perfect

[sunny44]

Never the first choice

Pairing: Lando Norris x bf!reader

Warnings: angst, crying, fighting

Summary: Y/n is never Lando’s first choice.

I sat at the restaurant table, trying to focus on the conversation. The guy in front of me was kind, funny, and interesting—everything someone could want on a date. But my mind was elsewhere. Every time he smiled, I imagined someone else's smile. When he spoke, it was as if I was waiting for someone else's voice to fill the silence.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing my distraction.

I forced a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm just a little tired."

He nodded, accepting my excuse without question. But the truth was much more complicated. Lando was always somewhere in the back of my mind, whether he was at a McLaren practice, at a Grand Prix, or even when I was on dates like this. I hated myself for it. I hated myself for not being able to move on, for still being stuck on someone who didn’t have the courage to choose me.

I was about to ask for the check, determined to end the date before my heart got even more tangled, when I saw him. Lando walked into the restaurant, his eyes immediately finding mine, as if he had some kind of radar that always guided him to me.

"Y/n?" my date called my attention, realizing that I was staring at something—or someone—behind him.

"Sorry, I just need a minute," I murmured, already standing up. I didn’t know what he was doing here, but I knew nothing good could come of it.

I walked over to Lando, meeting him near the entrance, with an expression I knew all too well—determination mixed with possessiveness.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, trying to stay calm.

"I... I needed to talk to you," he replied, his voice tense.

"Now? In the middle of my date?" I could already feel my patience running thin. Lando always showed up at the most inconvenient times, as if he knew exactly when I was about to move on.

"Yes, now," he insisted, stepping closer to me. "This guy isn’t right for you."

That was the last straw. "You cannot be serious. You crash my date to tell me this guy isn’t right for me? And who are you to decide that, Lando?"

Before he could respond, my date approached, a look of confusion on his face. "Is everything okay here?"

I wanted to scream, to apologize to him, but all I could do was shake my head.

"I... I’m leaving." Lando stepped closer to me, but I raised my hand, signaling him to stop. "No. Don’t touch me."

The other guy—who didn’t matter much to me anymore, since my heart was focused on Lando—shook his head in resignation. "I guess I’ll leave you two to talk."

I watched him walk away, a mix of anger and disappointment washing over me. Lando just stood there, and I didn’t know if I wanted to hug him or push him away. In the end, I chose the latter.

"You’re unbelievable," I began, my voice trembling with anger. "If you really wanted to be with me, you wouldn’t have gone on a date two weeks ago. Remember that date, Lando? The one you thought I didn’t know about?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t willing to listen.

"So you have no right to ruin my date, just because you’re not man enough to ask me out."

I could see the surprise in his eyes, as if he didn’t expect me to know. But the truth is, ever since I met Lando, I’ve always known when he was getting close to other people. He was unpredictable, and that was one of his charms—and one of his biggest flaws.

"Y/n, it’s not like that..." he started, but I raised my hands, refusing to hear.

"No, Lando, it’s exactly like that. It always has been. And it always will be, right? I’m only your first choice when no one better comes along." I felt the tears start to fall, but I continued, the pain turning into an unexpected strength. "I won’t be your second choice, Lando. I won’t be the person you always turn to when you need to get your dick wet.”

He tried to grab my arm, but I pulled away.

"Don’t touch me. That’s enough, im not gonna deal with this forever."

I turned, grabbed my bag, and walked away from him. The sound of my heels echoed in the restaurant, and the feeling of relief mixed with a deep sadness. The sound of laughter and conversations around us seemed so distant, as if I was in a completely different universe, where all that mattered was the pain in my chest.

When I reached the door, I stopped for a second, hoping he would come after me, say something that would change everything. But all I heard was silence.

I stepped out into the street, the cool night air hitting my face. Finally, the tears I had been holding back fell, and I allowed myself to cry. Cry for me, cry for Lando, cry for the love I never managed to have.

But as the tears fell, a firm decision began to form within me. I was tired of waiting, tired of being the second choice. Lando might not know what he wanted, but I did. I knew I deserved more, deserved someone who would choose me without hesitation, without doubts.

And above all, I knew that no matter how much I loved him, it wasn’t worth it if I always ended up feeling like this—alone, broken, and in second place. I deserved more. And in that moment, I decided I was going to find it, even if it meant leaving Lando behind.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“Getting used to be sad and alone all the time”

[satorusugurugurl]

Tangled Up With You

Summary: You’re the personal guard of the prince of the kingdom. So to protect him and his magical healing hair. but he’s also charged you with keeping his bed warm as well.

Pairing: Prince!Geto Suguru x Guard!AFAB!Reader

Warning: Fantasy AU! Long hair Suguru, magic hair that glows, fluff, sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Kinktober day Nineteen: Tangled!AU! Tangled is like one of my favorite movies! So of course I had a major blast writing this! Also I need Pascal!Gojo 😩💚

You were panting as you ran, looking over your shoulder; you made sure no one was following you. Your leather and light armor made it nearly impossible to stay silent, but you hoped you were far enough that he wouldn't hear you. Your pulse raced as you darted down an empty corridor through the kitchens. Once in the darkness, you slammed yourself against the darkest part of the wall. You were inhaling and exhaling through your nose as you covered your mouth, attempting to silence your breathing as voices echoed off in the distance.

“You can't run forever!” Captain Nanami barked out, making you sink further down. “You might as well come out now! Face my anger now!”

“Damn, she’s fast!” Haibara chimed in, and the clincking armor sounded like a ticking time bomb to you. “But don't you think making her do combat training is a bit harsh just for—”

“Do you want to join her?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. Now help me find her!”

Why were you so stupid!? Of course, Nanami just happened to catch you slacking off and eating his sweet bread! The autumn breeze had been so nice, and the sweet smell of bread was so tempting! And for once in your entire time of being a guard within the castle walls, you decided to give yourself a break. A break that included you taking off your palace cloak, laying down underneath one of the autumn trees, and snacking on Nanami’s favorite bread. A friend you didn’t realize was the last loaf of the day, and he has been saving it for when he got outside of his shift.

It didn’t help that your fellow guards knew this fact and refused to tell you about it. They were always tired of being on their commander's radar and decided that it was your turn! A turn you didn’t even want to partake in!

But here you were, hiding in the darkest corridor on the palace grounds from your commanding officer, who wanted to give you hand-to-hand combat training with him. A lesson thought you would do practically anything to avoid getting out of. All you needed to do was avoid him for the rest of the day. If you managed to do that and get back to the barracks, you could get up early tomorrow morning and call him at two loaves of his favorite bread to make up for your mistake.

That is if you manage to get through the rest of the day without getting caught.

The clinking armor grew louder, and you felt your heart rate spike with each step. Your life was starting to flash before your eyes as you listened to Nanami approaching closer and closer. There was nothing you could do aside from praying to the gods and goddesses to show you mercy!

“Hi, Nanami.” A familiar cheerful voice rang from above you. “What are you doing?” You glanced up, finding Prince Geto Suguru leaning outside the window of his tower.

The clanking of armor came to an abrupt stop. “Oh, good evening, your highness! I’m looking for my second in command! You haven’t seen her, have you?” The prince hummed, and you tilted your head up, praying he wouldn’t see you. Much to your horror, pretty lilac-hued eyes met your gaze as he smiled, his dark bands flowing in the cool breeze. You acted quickly, shaking your head back and forth in a silent plea for him not to tell Nanami.

With a dramatic eye roll, your prince pointed the opposite way. “Her favorite flowers are blooming soon. I bet she’s in the gardens. I would have joined her, but I’m still brushing my hair.” You thought that maybe, just maybe, Nanami wouldn’t have listened and continued down his path hunting you.

“Ah! Thank you, your highness!”

You blinked, watching as bother Nanami and Haibara headed off to the garden on the other side of the castle. You waited there for an eternity before a sigh of relief finally passed through your lips. Winning a whole-hearted laugh from the man above you.

“Oh my gods! That was a close one!”

“What did you do to invoke the wrath of the Nanami Kento?”

Long, black, silky hair was thrown out the window, swaying in front of you. This was a drill the two of you had. “I didn’t mean to piss off!” You wrapped your hand around his hair as he began climbing, pressing your feet against the wall of the tower. “Honest to the gods, his bread was just sitting there in the office, and I didn’t think you would mind sharing!” you grunted as you hoisted yourself up on the windowsill, scooting in until you could hop into his room.

“Okay, and you know, Nanami. Bread to him is one of his only joys in life.” Suguru laughed, returning to his bed, where he picked up a brush and ran it through his magical hair.

“Maybe I was just being optimistic.” Without another word, you took the brush away from your prince and began brushing it for him.

Suguru hummed softly, shutting his eyes as you gently worked through his hair, all seventy feet of it. Both of you enjoyed quiet moments like this. Where he whisked away to the court to help with an ill villager or paraded like a peacock for princesses, and you weren’t stuck escorting him when both of you would rather be with each other. Suguru was blessed with magic hair that could heal injuries, illnesses, and many other ailments people may have. Because of this, people were always trying to cut his hair off, not knowing that by doing so, his hair would lose all magical attributes.

That’s why you and the rest of your squads are in charge of keeping him safe.

But being his guard has led you to get to know each other more personally, and your relationship became less of a protector and more of a partner. Suguru wanted to be with you, but you both decided it would be best to keep it a secret for now. He would toss his hair out the window, and you would climb it to ensure no one saw you sneaking into his bed chambers.

You could hear the gossip that would arise from this if anyone found out about your relationship. People would say that you were just some lonely guard, deflowering their prince, making him unworthy and unfit for marriage, which wasn’t at all what you were doing. You had fallen for the prince you were sworn to protect. He was handsome, kind, and intelligent. It would’ve been practically impossible for you not to develop these kinds of feelings for him. You would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea that you were just out for his body, to bed him and leave. That wasn’t the case at all!

It all happened, which was a bonus for falling in love with him.

Typically, you tried your damnedest to keep your mind yourself along with your hands. But as he let out a breath as you began, twisting the long hair into a braid, your mind began to wander elsewhere. You could see his broad shoulders and muscles strained with his tunic. He didn’t have to do anything, and you wanted him so badly.

It was something he could see in your face as he glanced at you from the mirror. “Princess?” He purred, tilting his head as you fastened the braid with a hair tie on your wrist. “You keep undressing me with your eyes. If you want something, you should just outwardly say it.” He smirked, watching as you sputtered and flushed as you looked towards the ceiling, trying to find an excuse as to why you were practically eye fucking him when he hadn’t done anything.

“I wasn’t undressing you!” The look on his face, combined with how he slowly turned his head to look back at you and his expression, told you he did not believe you. “Okay, maybe I was.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you to lie on the bed with him. “Does my favorite guard want me?” You watched as he hovered about you, long fingers unfastening the belts that held your armor in place.

“I do—but what about your friend?”

“My friend?” Your armor is swiftly removed and placed on the ground beside his bed. He slides his hands up your shirt, tugging that off next. “I can assure you, my cock is eager to see your pretty pussy again.”

Anyone that would look at the Prince would not assume he used that kind of language, but in reality, he was just a horny, filthy-mouthed man. This only deepened the attraction you had for him. You off on it when he talks to you like this.

“As much as I want that to happen,” you purr, running your hands down his chest. “I’m talking about your other friend.”

“Satoru?” As you referred to his pet chameleon, he chimed in amusement, thickening his voice. “Shoko took him in for a check-up.” More clothing was discarded and tossed around the room as the braid you had done on his hair fell over one of his shoulders. “Besides, he hogs up all your time and is here with me.” You grinned at the thought of the white chameleon with a bright, so cerulean. “So call me selfish, but I want you all to myself.”

“Well, luckily for you, I want you to. I need to repay you for saving my life.”

The rest of your clothes are thrown off until you’re both completely naked. Suguru pushes himself between your legs, his hands resting on either side of your head as he kisses you gently. “You do, which is sort of funny because aren’t you the one supposed to be protecting me?”

“I like switching things up sometimes, Sugu.”

“That's one of the many reasons I’m falling for you.”

Before you can linger too long on his words, Suguru leans forward, kissing you softly. His hands moved to rest on your hips. The head of his cock gently began pushing the tip of his cock past your slickened folds and inside of you. Your lips parted slightly as you inhaled sharply, feeling him stretch you open with his thick member. Suguru pressed his forehead against yours as he continued to slide himself inside of you. The two of you panted lips inches from one another as Suguru slowly began rolling his hips.

“Suguru,” you whined, tilting your head back, allowing him to trail kisses and nibbles along your sensitive, heated flesh. That feels so good.” He chuckled against your skin, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Yeah, it always feels good.” He moaned out with a charming smile before thrusting deeper inside you, “I’m going to make you feel so good that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. That was how I could selfishly keep you all to myself.”

The thought of spending the day with him, without your titles, had you clamping down, causing him to groan in pleasure, “That sounds magical; I wa-holy fuck!” Suguru silenced you by slamming into you fast and hard, cutting off the rest of your words.

“I’d make you mine in every sense. But that’s going to have to wait for a bit. “Because as much as I love hearing you talk, I want to hear your moan instead.,” he growled softly into your ear,

“Well, what are you waiting for then? Make me moan.” You leaned up, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling on it.

The two of you moved together, finding a rhythm that felt best for both of you. A position where your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, desperately trying to pull him deeper inside of you. His hands massaged your breasts, twisting your right nipple between his thumb and index finger as he took your left nipple in his mouth until it stood at attention for him. All the while, his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, causing you to gasp out his name.

Suguru’s fingers tangled in your hair as he slammed his lips on yours. Kissing you as hips picked up, moving at a faster pace, “Princess, fuck gods-” he nipped at your bottom lip, “I want you so much.” he pulled away, looking down at you, pausing his thrusts to stare down at you. You just stared at him, chest rapidly heaving with lust; the two of you were covered in a thin layer of sweat sheen off two of you in the dying light of the sunset. “You’re so beautiful,” his thumbs massaged the dips of your hips. You are the only Princess I want.” His thrusts became deeper as he stared into your eyes. “Because I love you.” Your heart nearly stopped as your cheeks burned even as you looked at Suguru in shock. He didn't need to say more or explain himself; he kept going, spilling out the truth. “Princess, I’m so in love with you.”

“Suguru,” your heart raced as you stared into his violet eyes. “I-I—” You reached up, stroking his cheek. “I’m in love with you too. I don't care if we come from different nobility. All I care about is loving you.”

“Princess,” the prince moved to pull you up to sit in his lap so he could kiss you eagerly. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.” He kissed your cheeks as he thrust up inside of you lazily. I knew I would be in good hands from the moment I first saw you.”

“Haaah,” you exhaled as you rocked against him, “I took my bow seriously, but I, fuck, first saw you smile. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself.”

“All I think about is you. From the start of my day, you’re the first thing on my mind. And you’re the last thing on my mind when I sleep at night.” The dark-haired man grabbed your hips, making you rock faster.

“Nnngh! Sugu!” You cried out as his cock brushed right against your g-spot, causing a familiar tightening in your abdomen, “I’m getting close.” you whispered against his lips.

Dark strands of his hair clung to his forehead as he nodded, feeling that same ache in his belly, “I can feel you squeezing down on me,” He furrowed his eyebrows together before biting down on his lip as he slammed you back down on to the bed, “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

The handsome and seemingly sweet prince lifted your legs over his shoulders and fucked into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped his forearms, leaving a crescent moon indent in his skin. He winced at the slight pain, but his paste didn’t falter. The head of his cock continued brushing against your g-spot with each thrust before pushing further to kiss your cervix. Your entire body felt like it was on fire as your toes curled and your back arched as he pushed you closer to the end of your orgasm. Sensing you close, Suguru’s left hand that was gripping your hip trailed down your lower stomach, pushing down on it gently while his thumb brushed over your clit, sending you over the edge.

“I’m cumming! Sugu fuck!” You screamed back, arching off the mattress as you came all over his cock, moaning like a mistress of the night, “Yes, right there!” You thrashed your head side to side as Suguru thrust faster inside of you, chasing his orgasm.

“Princess, I’m gon-gonna cum!” He growled, thrusting as deep as he could before spilling himself inside of you, “Princess!” Suguri growled, burying his face in the crook of your neck and biting down on it as he continued to thrust, milking his cock inside of you.

Both of your bodies trembled against each other as you came down from orgasmic bliss. He took deep breaths as he trailed kisses along your neck and shoulder. Your legs continued to shake as he wrapped his arms around you, brushing your hair back out of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?”

“Huh?”

“AI meant every word.” Suguru lies down on his back, pulling you close to his side.“I don’t want to meet any other princesses or be introduced to other nobility. Because I just want you. And I will make a point to tell that to my father tomorrow. You are the woman I want to spend my life with.”

You swear to the gods above that you could start crying at his sweet words. “I know.” And you did know he was telling me the whole truth that he didn’t want to be with anyone else but you. But for him to reiterate those words when your minds were clear meant the entire world to you. “I don't think he’ll be happy about that thought.” Suguru scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“He can kiss my ass for all I care.” His pretty violet eyes narrowed, and he softly smiled. “You are going to be the person I marry.”

“I want to marry you too.” You hummed, trying to set up to stay alert, your training kicking in. Because not only was he the prince, but he was also the man he had fallen in love with. Suguru, of course, felt your muscles tightening.

“It’s okay. For once, you relax. I’ll protect you tonight.” At his words, your body began to relax. “There you go, get some sleep.”His lips brushed over your forehead. “I’ll protect you from this night until I draw my final breath.” Suguru hummed as your head was on his chest. You hummed as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close to his body. The two of you fell asleep soundly and safely inside each other's arms.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[dancingwithreality]

romeo and juliet t.w.

gif not mine!

pairing: toto wolff x verstappen!sister

word count: 3.1k

summary: red bulls golden girl has been in a long term secret relationship with the team principal of mercedes, and it gets harder to keep the secret.

warnings: implied sexual content, jos verstappen 🤢, fluff, light steam but no smut

a/n: yes she’s a little child prodigy, but it works better for the plot. if this gets love 'n y'all really want more i'll do a second part maybe :)

please don’t take my work! enjoy and interact :)

JOS VERSTAPPEN was not a nice man, and an even worse father. He was demanding and mean, pushing his driving legacy onto his children. Well, onto Max. When his first child was a girl Jos was not happy. He didn’t think a girl could uphold such a prestige, so he never tried hard. You gave your all to impress your father but it was never enough for him. Then a few years later, he got Max, and when Max was of age he immediately started karting. You were quickly pushed to the back of his mind.

Through the years, even though you did better than Max, he still never cared about you as much as he did Max. Which is definitely saying something. You made your career as the youngest female driver to ever get second in the F2 Championship at 16 years old. At the last race, when you solidified your position as second in the WDC, you will always remember how your 12 year old baby brother went running up to you, pride swelling in his eyes.

He kept chanting your praises and hugged you tightly around your waist. Tears were brought to your eyes and you hugged him back. You took Max up to the podium with you and celebrated with the whole world watching. Except, Jos. His arms were crossed as he barely spared you a glance. That was the last time your heart broke because of him. You swore to yourself, you’d be there for Max how your father never was, and you’d stop relying on him to validate you.

Your success put you on the radar for many teams. The one you went with, was Red Bull. You joined their academy and were their first female reserve. There you met Daniel and became quick friends. Years later, when Max joined Toro Rosso you’d been driving for Red Bull for years already. You were the one that pushed for Max to be your reserve the following year, and everything fell into place.

Now you were 28. You had four consecutive vice championships under your wing and were driving alongside your two-consecutive championship winning brother. Everyone called you the ‘Wonder Twins’ and your family legacy had never burned brighter.

You were having a relaxing dinner with your brother and best friend, reminiscing on your life and how lucky you were. While Daniel and Max took over most of the conversation and were laughing the entire time, you memorized this night to remember it forever. Unbeknownst to Max, your boyfriend of four years was sitting further back in the restaurant having his own night. Glances were being passed back and forth between you to as your relationship was still a secret.

•••

It was 2018, after the Singapore race. The whole grid was out at some club and even some principals and team members joined you.

You and Danny were having the best time dancing and drinking, when you felt someone’s eyes on you. Finding the source gave you a shock and surprise to see Toto staring at you. When your eyes met, he sent a wink your way that made you blush and look back at Daniel. Hurriedly you whispered to him what had happened and the Aussie was at a loss for words. He knew of your little crush on the Austrian often teased you about it, but he never thought the crush would be reciprocated. Nonetheless he matched your excitement and decided you would do something about it.

Danny fluffed up your hair, and your ego, while encouraging you to go talk to him. ‘Open, lemme see your teeth,’ Daniel made a face at you telling you to do the same. You did and he confirmed that nothing was there. ‘Right, go at ‘em!’ He started to push you towards the bar.

‘What am i supposed to say!’ You started panicking while trying to look calm.

‘Turn up that Dutch charm or something! You’ve got this,’ Daniel winked and sent you on your way with a gentle pat on the back.

You were skeptical that Toto would even follow you to the bar. But he did. And somewhere in the night, small talk and glances turned into light touches and smiles. Which turned to laughs and close proximity, which led you going back to the hotel room with him for more privacy and a nightcap. The night was one to really remember as it started what you could only describe as the best thing to happen to you. The morning after wasn’t a walk of shame, no, your held was high and you were filled with joy and you stumbled all the way back to your room, eager to tell Danny all the details.

•••

You were brought back to reality as Daniel kicked you under the table and cleared his throat. Your face burned from how long you kept eye contact from across the room, while your brother sitting a foot away. ‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you laughed and took a sip of your wine.

'You spend too much of your time with us,' Max sighed and looked at Daniel for his agreement.

‘Max,’ you chuckled, ‘You guys are my best friends, and you’re also my brother, why wouldn’t I spend time with you?’ You asked.

‘I’m just saying, you’re with us all the time. And when you’re not you’re always in your room or by yourself,’ Max stated like it was fact. Daniel let out a quick laugh at the idea of you always being ‘alone’ when he knew where you really were.

This time you kicked him, ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

‘Darling we can’t be your only friends,’ Daniel teased. You shot him a deadpanned look and pretended to laugh.

‘I’m serious!’ Max looked almost offended that you and Daniel weren’t taking it as seriously as he was. Both of you immediately turned to him and looked concerned. ‘Daniel has Heidi, I have Kelly, you’re not getting any younger and you don’t have anyone.’

Your mouth was agape, did he just call you old? Daniel couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore and in classic honey badger style, he bursted out and was laughing so hard he couldn’t breath.

‘Max, I can assure you, you don’t have to worry about me.’ You tried to calm this conversation and put it to an end.

Much to your chagrin it didn’t really end. Max went on for a little while longer and you couldn’t have wished to not be there any more. When he finally got up to go to the bathroom, you slumped down in your chair.

Daniel was trying to get his breath back and was drinking his water. 'What was that? Max never cared about my love life!' You pinched your nose bridge and put your head down on the table.

'Why don't you just tell him? It's been four years, I don't think its too fresh anymore.'

'Oh yeah like it's that easy, 'Oh hey Max! I've been dating the Team Principal of Mercedes for years now, i just never told you!' You pretended to smile and used the fakest high pitched voice you had.

'You sarcastic little girl, it's not that big a deal. If you love each other, what's the big deal?'

'Okay don't call me a little girl you're like a few years older than me. Ugh, I miss the days when we had a PR relationship for publicity. No one asked me about my love life back then,' You groaned and took an even larger sip of your wine, the cup almost empty now.

'Just eat your food and stop sulking. You're secretly dating tall, dark, handsome, and hunky, like your life is so hard. Poor Romeo and Juliet.’ Daniel cut a piece off his steak and went back to eating. 'You're leading the championship and getting dicked down-‘

'Daniel!'

•••

You were all at Silverstone now. You just finished qualifying and the feelings were mixed. Max had unfortunately not done as well, but 6th wasn’t horrible. He was sure to make it up.

You were on your way back to your hotel when you got a message from Toto. Unfortunately for him, Lewis and George struggled a little more than they’d prefer. Toto had asked the front desk for an extra key to his room and had given it you prior. He wanted a bit of comfort tonight. He already let out his anger in the garage earlier, he would need another headset for tomorrow, and he wanted you to spend the night. you told him you’d be right over as soon as you were ready.

So a shower and an outfit change later, you were running over to his room and sliding the room key in as quick as you could. You always had to make sure no one saw when either of you went to the others room, so you’d gotten fairly good at it over the years.

As soon as you closed and locked the door, behind you came a pair of arms what wrapped themselves quickly around your waist. ‘Oh, meine liebe,’ the arms sighed in the crook of your neck.

‘Hello my darling,’ you leaned backwards onto the strong chest of your boyfriend and rested one hand around his neck, where his head was pressing kisses on yours. ‘How are you?’

He spun you around in his arms so he could rest his forehead on top your head. ‘Qualifying was piss poor, it seems we can’t get out of 7th and 8th.’

‘If it makes you feel any better, Alonso hasn’t been doing too well these last races. If Lewis manages to move even a few places the gap will tightens between them.’ You rubbed your hands up and down his back, trying yo offer some comforting words.

‘How can you be so impartial?’ He pressed a long kiss to your lips. ‘We’re from rival teams, shouldn’t you pray for our downfall?’ he kissed you again.

This time when he started to pull away you went to your tippy toes chasing after him, ‘We can both succeed without hurting the other.’ One of your hands was behind his neck, the other in his hair. ‘Well, so long as I’m winning.’ Each time he kissed you grew more passionate and desperate than the last. Neither of you had even realized that you’d walked backwards onto the bed until Toto’s legs hit the frame and you both fell.

After his back hit the mattress and you braces yourself on his chest you both erupted into laughter. You laid with your head and arms in his chest as he put one behind his head so he could see you properly. ‘It’s only a good race if you win darling,’ the look in his eyes was so intense you could feel your whole body get hotter.

Your ears grew red as you two kept the silence and just, stared. ‘I love you,’ you softly said.

‘I love you,’ his thick accented voice soothed your heart and made it swell four times the size.

‘I wish we didn’t have to keep everything so secret,’ you uttered in a sort of defeated tone.

‘Meine liebe, I’d get all those silly little social media apps just to tell the whole world about us if you asked.’ He sat up, and pulled you with him into an upright position. You were straddling his lap, arms around his waist, as he pulled you in for a deep kiss, all in an effort to emphasize his love for you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it when he held you like you weighed nothing. At eye level with him now, you couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped at his face. You kissed him so quickly and deeply you could’ve sworn he gasped. You nibbled on his lip and he let out a groan that you immediately swallowed, the sound only sending you into hyperdrive. Your intensity fueled him and you both became hungry for each other. Hands roaming and bodies moving in sync with each other.

His hands gripped your thighs and you tightened your legs around his waist. Once again, like you weight nothing, he took advantage of your tightening around him and lifted you up so he could further up the bed. Not once did you disconnect from each other as the night began to escalate.

He laid you down on your back and hovered over you, only a mere few inches from laying on you. Lips swollen and eyes dilated in lust you uttered ‘I love yours’ once more before connecting your lips for what feels like the tenth time that night.

All you were was a mess of sweaty skin, hushed breaths and some of the most explicit sounds that would make anyone blush. Nights like these, we’re you were able to care for each other and pretend the world outside didn’t exist were your favorite. Nights where you two could just be in love, not Mercedes Team Principal and Red Bulls Golden Girl.

Nights like these where you were Romeo and Juliet, fighting against your families and becoming your own.

•••

It was the last lap of Silverstone and adrenaline was running high. Your father had shown up to this race which already put you in a sour mood, you just wanted him to leave. You had Lando pushing behind you, granted the gap was 11.63 seconds but you wanted it to stay that way. Your only goal now was to get fastest lap to really tie it in. All these years later and you were still desperate for your father to see how good you were. See how you did it all by yourself.

You knew that behind Lando was Max, and even though you would always wish the best for the papaya boy, you knew that if max couldn’t overtake Jos would not be happy. His permanently disappoint disposition still hurt Max and it hurt you to see it.

Tension was running high as the race was coming to a close. There wasn’t a sound you could hear besides your own heart and you crossed the finish line. Lando followed behind and Max just .01 of a second behind him. It was close, and you were just so happy for both of them that you didn’t care if your brother didn’t overtake him.

When the final lap was over and you parked your car, the first thing you did was take off your helmet and look at the crowds. Amongst the cheering crowds, McLaren going wild and Red Bull screaming at the top of their lungs you watched as your brother pulled into the third spot and got out. Max made eye contact with your father and you could watch his heart break. Although he had preformed so well Jos was never pleased.

This ignited something in your veins. You watched him cross his arms and stand silently in the crow of cheering Red Bulls, the cameras showing off the orange army going insane in the bleachers. Yet somehow, the happiness couldn’t rub off on him.

You were tired of him.

You couldn’t take a single second of his attitude anymore.

So with all your courage and fire, you arm over to where Mercedes had piled off to the side. Your pushing through the crowds caught the cameras attention and all eyes were on you.

There in that second there was only one thought in your head. One idea: and you were going to follow through. You always do. You found Toto looking around shocked and confused as to why you were right in front of him. And in that second, you kissed him.

You brought both of your hands up to cup his face and you smashed your lips against his. As if the world melted around you his hands found your hips and the two of you were pushing so hard into each other, it was hard to tell where you ended and he started.

Just like the night before, you were one. You weren’t Mercedes v. Red Bull. You were boy and girl, hopelessly in love.

The crowd and gone silent.

You two pulled away ever so slightly, foreheads rested against the others as Toto supported your weight so you didn’t have to strain your feet too much to reach him. Despite just hard launching your relationship without any kind of talking about it before hand, the two lovers embraced each other.

‘The world knows now,’ he whispered in your ear.

‘Let them.’ You smiled as you hugged him tighter. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you.’ he whispered back.

Cheers and whoops erupted around you. Despite the initial shock of your relationship people were just happy. It was a good race with an even better surprise at the end, how could they complain?

The two of you pulled apart and smiled at each other, the world so unused to swing Toto so domestic and soft. You have him one more hot kiss before walking back to do the post race interview and award ceremony.

‘I guess she isn’t so alone, huh..’ Max looked star struck as Daniel laughed and patted him on the back.

You walked back and Jos was furious at your vulgar and inappropriate display. You’d never seen him so mad. It made you audibly laugh.

You put your Rub Bull cap on and walked right up to David Coulthard and smiled, waiting to start the questions.

‘Well that was something,’ He laughs in a slightly awkward manor. ‘Can I assume there’s something going on between you two?’

‘We’ve been dating for a while, I love him.’ You never smiled brighter.

‘A congratulations is in order then, for the race and for your love!’ He barked out in laughter as you thanked him and giggled.

Your eyes never left Toto, even as the anthems played and the trophies were handed out. Even as you sprayed each other with champagne and celebrated. Neither of you looked away. The smiles so evident on your faces and that in love glow never left. At that moment, neither of you cared about the repercussions that would follow. The PR mess and the scolding from Christian. It was just you two, in love.

The love you shared didn’t have to be bottled anymore. You two didn’t have to hide anymore, you could be together freely and honestly. That was all you wanted in life. To be with your love, in love, with no secrets or shame. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

fin.

[lalunanymph]

𝐎𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 — bachira. m

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 after his triumphant return to tokyo following the exhilarating world cup season, bachira stumbles upon a startling revelation involving his ex-fwb that would change his life forever.

tw. fwb!reader, fem!reader, pro-player!bachira, baby d(a)ddy!bachira is 21 here, unprotected s(e)x, pregnancy, language, dacryphilia, size kink, angst, misunderstandings, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, petnames (mama, princess, baby, etc), daddy kink, bachira being bachira, MDNI ⋆ ★ for the lovely @j1ngyuans who provided me such wonderful insight to bachi’s character and helped motivate this fic along <33

Rain glimmered off the window pane, highlighting his golden-hued eyes. The circles etched onto them were nothing compared to the purple bruising his collarbones from your teeth.

Those same eyes roamed over your bare spine, curling within the cave of his arms. Despite the late hour and the reality of an early morning flight, Bachira couldn’t find it in himself to walk away.

Your warmth intoxicated him to stay for a few more seconds, caught in the trap of your vanilla-scented hair and sleep-heavy features. 

Meguru had promised himself he would stop this last week. Then, he found himself in front of your apartment door, and the next day, in between your sheets. He let it happen three more times before his brain caught up and he remembered the event circled on his calendar. 

The flight he had to take which would place 3,000 miles of distance between you two. 

But, that was last week. Now, he was a man riddled with splitting emotions. Leave or stay; fight or fly?

Meguru sighed, and the minute movement caught your attention. 

“Megu-chan?” 

“Hmm?” 

You looked down at your laced fingers with his, and Bachira had to sneak a kiss onto your forehead. You were too adorable for your own good. 

“How long will you be in Germany?” 

Bachira liked to believe he had a hold on this situation; that he wouldn’t quote unquote catch feelings. He had nearly tackled Rachi for teasing him when the dumb blonde saw your name flashing across his phone screen. Isagi smiled, but didn’t say much when his affairs came to light. The rest of the team thought it was funny he had found someone who could tolerate him, much less sleep with him three times in a week. 

But, the young striker was coming to terms that you weren’t a normal woman. 

No one else could stand his endless rantings about football, his tendency to forget why he stepped into a room in the first place or his strange sleeping habits. 

No one else but you. 

Meguru traces his thumb across your knuckles, contemplating how soft they felt under his touch. 

“Just for three months, princess.” A grin tugged on his lips. “Why? Miss me already?” 

You give him a look and roll your eyes. “No.” 

“Doesn’t sound convincing.” 

He felt your smaller fingers tangling in his long locks, tugging on the bleached strands. “Not convincing? That’s not true, either.”

You were an enigma he couldn’t wrap his mind around. 

Smart and independent, you held your own in a fast-paced job and rented a pretty sweet apartment in the heart of Azabu. Bachira thought you must’ve been fucked in the head to let some random soccer player onto your radar, much less your home. But, one look at him from across the bar must’ve caught your attention. 

You offered to buy him a drink, and within a few hours, he had you pressed into your own silk sheets, crying out his name.

It didn’t stop there. He secretly added your number into his phone, and texted you the next day, offering to buy you dinner. Part of him thought you would be weirded out by his forwardness. You weren’t. 

The next night, he took you to Nobu for a ridiculously priced omakase dinner and fucked you in the back of his Mercedes till the windows shook and you squirted all over him. 

As quirky and outlandish as he was, Bachira Meguru was a gentleman. 

His mother always told him to be nice to girls, even if they weren’t his girlfriend. Bachira took her lessons to heart and offered to pay for everything; your Ubers to his place, the midnight takeout you both would order after every session, and the condoms he would forget in his back pocket the moment he saw you standing by his front door in a short skirt. 

Meguru didn’t need his teammates to tell him that he was crazy. Every time he found himself sprawled in your bed, the taste of you heavy on his tongue, your touch searing through his skin, he thought about the next few months. 

Why the fuck would you start a relationship if you knew you were going to be drafted for a season in fucking Germany? 

Bachira had argued that it wasn’t a relationship. 

When Isagi pressed him on what type of connection you both had, he clammed up. 

A first for the usually outspoken, carefree young man. 

Kunigami had blinked. Raichi guffawed loudly, almost making the windows shake with his laughter.

“Fuck. Our Bachira has a little piece of ass on the side!” 

Friends with benefits. Meguru had never heard of that term before. Granted, he didn’t have many friends, much less any of them that came with benefits.

But, he found that he liked your company. Liked when you snorted too hard at one of his jokes or whined for him to help take out the trash. He grew fond of your fingers scratching his scalp lightly or how you always wore his shirts when you went to collect the delivered food from your front door. 

It was why his tongue suddenly felt too heavy when he had to reply to your question. His eyes darted to the mark he left on your shoulder, and he touched it absentmindedly.

“Tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh.”

You blinked. Bachira drank you in; really took his time to absorb you in your entirety.

There was a smudge of your mascara underneath your left eye, and your lipstick was stained with him. The dress you wore was shoved somewhere underneath the bed, probably kicked to the side in a rush of passion, and you were clad in only your bra. He tugged at the strap, fighting back the urge to see you completely bare.

He had to get his last hit of you, even if it couldn’t fill that strange, you-shaped hole underneath his ribcage.

Gently unclasping the last article of clothing, he threw it to the floor. You squeaked, drawing your bare hands to your breasts to cover them. But, he clicked his tongue, batting them aside. 

Years of training to be a pro-player and a diet rich in protein and soccer fanaticism helped him shoot up past the six foot mark and he could’ve almost rivalled Nagi in the height department. His shoulders had broadened, pecs firming up and back becoming defined from endless days of training. 

On top of him, you felt as light as a feather. A doll that was tinier compared to his larger build. 

And Bachira loved it. 

He loved pinning you down onto the mattress, licking your tears and cooing at you to take him. He loved it when had a slight limp the next day, or when you winced and squeezed your thighs a little from the chaffing. It made the monster in him prickle with pride.

Your glossy eyes met his, and you hiccuped at the feeling of him breaching past your fluttering hole. After three rounds, you were still as tight as when the evening started. Bachira grinned, palming your breasts and slapping them a little, watching the fat jiggle.

“Pretty, pretty baby is so warm and wet f’me.” You shivered at his words, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he guided your hips downward. Trying to get you to bottom out. “Good girl,” he drawled, kissing your wet cheeks. “Lookie, I’m almost in! You can finally fit me. Heh, took you—what? Two rounds? But, I’m only halfway through. Am I still too big for you?” 

You gritted your teeth, turning your face away. He felt your walls clamping down on him in humiliation, and his sick grin grew.

“S-Shut up.” 

Bachira tsked and tried to help you relax by gently rubbing his thumb on your tender clit. The shot of arousal helped to lubricate his cock more, your juices trickling down his stiff length. “Mouthy. And Meguru is trying to help you, too. So ungrateful.”

Hot, fire pain exploded across your left ass cheek, and you cried out, clenching down harder on him. 

“Mhmph—Meguru!” 

“Yeah,” his breathing got heavier, golden eyes hooded. “Mhm, that’s right. Say my name, baby.”

His thumb circled your nub frantically, desperate to get you unravelling. Your mewls touched his hot ears, and he felt you shudder on top of him. In a short second, you clamped down, choking his dick and Bachira groaned.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered while you were in the throes of your orgasm. “Cumming like a perfect slut for Meguru.”

He flipped you onto your back, taking both of your hands in his and breaching past your halfway stretched hole. Still sensitive from his previous treatment, you shuddered and wailed, back arched till only the crown of your head was touching the mattress.

“Megu—“

He sank into the hilt. Bachira set a pace that had you moaning his name. Your tits jiggled lewdly in his face, nipples hard and circling to graze the hard planes of his chest. You closed your eyes and he growled. “Open them. Look at me.”

You drank in the darkness seeping through his golden orbs with shameless need. Bachira’s clipped thrusts and sturdy hips slapping into yours filled the air with wet squelches and your airy moans. You were close again; he felt your thighs clench around his waist.

Unable to stop himself, Bachira gathered your ass cheeks in his bigger palms, gripping and spreading them so his cock could pound deeper and harder inside of you. The change in angle made your toes curl, and your breathing became both heavier and airier at the same time.

You curled your fingers with his, tightening your grip on his hands. Bachira brought one wrist to his lips, kissing the soft skin there.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Meguru watched the line of your throat constrict, your shoulders twitch and thighs tremble. He felt you sucking him in, unable to let him go; desperate to cling onto him with a vengeance. You shattered with such pleasurable desperation it was like a work of erotic art coming to life.

His own orgasm hit him like a truck to the face; Bachira dug his heels into the bed, lifting his hips up so his cock could breach you deeper. The hot flow of his seed stained your insides, lodging deep past your cervix. His head was spinning, and the smell of you burned his nose. Sweet vanilla and skin filled his open mouth, your weight pressing sweetly into every nook and crevice of his body.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “So good.”

You mumbled his name, and the garish green light of your digital clock highlighted the dip in your brow; the fluttering sleepiness of your eyes closing shut. Bachira waited until your breathing evened out.

He picked himself from your embrace and kissed your hair. Intermittently, he would glance up at you as he slid his pants on and buttoned his shirt up. But, you remained asleep, curled into a small ball with your head on his designated pillow. Bachira doesn’t want to let sentimentality linger for too long on his already conflicted soul, so he gave you one last kiss on your forehead before departing out your door.

Speeding out of your life for the last time.

As you dwelled in dreamland, he arrived at the airport, half an hour late and with his hair sticking out in odd ends. His teammates snickered when they saw him, but they didn't ask where he was or who he spent his last moments in Japan with.

Bachira told himself that it was part of the charm of being in a mutually beneficial situationship. You got him off and he got you off in equal reward. 

But, as the plane took off and Raichi’s grumbles for good food service rattled in his ear, he couldn’t help himself from turning his neck slightly to the right.

Trying to catch a glimpse of your red-tiled apartment roof from 5,000 feet in the air before the clouds and frost swirled over his window, blocking his sights.

Returning back to Japan after three months shouldn’t scare him, but it did.

Bachira doesn’t know what to expect when he comes back to his homeland. He barely had the time to dwell on it when the doors opened and Ego was ushering them out into the gateway, the European Cup tucked comfortably under his arm; safely wrapped and whose silhouette was an unmistakable win for Japan.

Hoards of screaming fans welcome them back with flashing cameras and banners. Local paparazzi flocked to them with questions about the next season. He stood there as reporter after reporter interviewed Isagi, and occasionally trailed the mic on his media-trained coach who promised the nation of more wins to come.

His mother greeted him at the airport arrival, and Bachira pretended not to feel a smidgen of disappointment when squealing girls would run towards their boyfriends, engulfing them in large hugs and sweet smiles. It truly was funny how he hadn’t thought of you much throughout the long, gruelling weeks in Germany’s winter, but the very second he arrived back home, you were at the forefront of his mind.

Yuu was sweet and patient when her son returned her questions with sluggish exhaustion. She didn’t comment when he staggered into his bedroom, and fell asleep in his crumpled clothes; her poor, sleepy soccer star. 

The next morning, his mother left him a note, telling him that she was out for the day to meet with an art curator. Lonely, restless and bored, he decided to help his mom with the groceries and take her car down to the closest mart in their neighbourhood.

Bachira didn’t expect anyone to recognise him from his newfound fame, not when he reached the car park and all he could see were milling mothers and elderly people scrutinising their potential purchases in hand. The cold air stung his bare hands when he reached for a trolley, pushing it down dreary aisles while flickering his attention to the list his mother had set down on the dining table the night before.

Ka-san would be happy I crossed this off the list for her. Buoyed with the thought of his mother’s grateful smile, Bachira almost missed a familiar face walking down the bread aisle. It was when he almost crashed his trolley into a stranger’s cart that he glanced up, about to open his mouth and apologise when he saw you.

Except, you’re not exactly how he remembered you.

For one, your coat was much too large, and your dark circles were way too pronounced to be considered normal.

And secondly, your palm was protectively pressed onto your belly. A belly that was swollen and protruding. Unmistakably pregnant. 

Bachira inhaled sharply. Before he could call out a greeting, you mumbled a hasty apology and swung your cart from his path, hurrying down the aisle. 

Bewildered, Bachira craned his neck around, wondering if you had forgotten who he was. But, you didn’t. You surely couldn’t. Because you were rushing to pay for your things, and in the split second it sank in that you were fumbling for your coins, did it hit him that he was supposed to say something to you.

Why are you pregnant?

Whose child is that?

Do you not recognise me?

Did you not miss me?

“Hey, wait!” His desperate voice punctuated the frosty air of the car park. 

You hurried off faster when you heard him, trying to evade his presence. But, Bachira was faster and taller and you were physically at a disadvantage from your heavy belly. He caught up with you in no time, and reached for your elbow. You squeaked, almost dropping your bag of groceries when you felt his long fingers encircling your arm.

“Meguru—“

“Why were you running away from me?”

This close, he noticed the snowflakes hanging off the ends of your lashes; how your skin glowed softly away from the harshness of the grocery store’s fluorescent lights.

You stuttered and flushed like you were caught in a lie. “I-I wasn’t!” Curling one hand on your stomach, you missed how his eyes flickered towards that minute movement. In his fit of panic, Bachira had chased after you without completing his groceries, cheeks ruddy and hot from the sharp cold. A part of him couldn’t believe you were standing here; physically right in front of him. 

Was he still dreaming? What were the odds of bumping into the very same person you were just thinking of the night before?

A miracle. That’s what it was.

But, you looked like the sight of him was nothing short of a nightmare.

Unable to hold his gaze, you shifted from one foot to another. Bachira grabbed the heavy bag you were gripping tight to your chest and encouraged you to let him carry it with a gentle tug. You unknowingly release your grip on the paper bag, shifting your eyes to your feet. 

He had to break the silence. He had to get some answers.

“Congratulations on the pregnancy,” he muttered flatly, dull-eyed. “I suppose you got married and started a family when I was away, huh?”

To his surprise, your eyes started to well up. You dashed at them, and in the faint morning sun, your ring finger was as bare as the winter-struck trees above. Bachira had to take a step back. 

“Wait… how long are you?” 

Your pretty face was twisted into a frown, and you were resolutely not looking into his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

 You tried to walk away from him, but Meguru was still stubborn. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he snarled, surprising the both of you by his fire. “Tell me the truth. Did you fuck someone else while I was away?”

His question ignited a flame of defiance from you. 

“What the fuck, Meguru? How dare you ask me something like this?” 

Your teary eyes dissipated, leaving behind a glow of anger that threatened to sear him whole. “First of all, I don’t owe you an explanation. Second of all, please give me back my groceries and third—” you shifted uncomfortably, scowling at your own two feet. Bachira hated to admit how adorable you were when you glared at the ground. “—I’m really, really hungry. Can you stop squishing my bread? It’s supposed to be for breakfast.” 

He blinked. Slowly, he handed you back your paper bag of groceries. You snatched them with a flurry of indignation, turning on your heel.

“Is it mine?” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Meguru hadn’t realised how empty the carpark became until he noticed the small of your back threatening to be swallowed by the vastness. It felt like eons since he last saw you. He wished you would just give him a hug. 

Your shoulders hunched forward, hugging the crumpled bag tightly to your chest. 

Without your denial or confirmation, Bachira could make an educated guess.

“Three months, huh? You found out about the little critter while I was away, right?” 

“Don’t call him a critter.”

Bachira’s heart soared straight to his throat, lodging right there. “It’s a boy?” 

You didn’t run away or try to brush him off this time. From the slope of your shoulders to the tremble in your hands, Meguru sensed your defences falling to leave you open and vulnerable. He rushed forward to patch you up again. 

Guiding you into his embrace, Bachira didn’t care if you both were in public or someone would whisper at the indecency. He pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“You should’ve told me,” he mumbled, not sure if he was saying the right thing. “I would’ve returned back in a heartbeat.” 

“You had a dream to fulfil,” your sad sigh reached back to him. “I didn’t want to be a hassle.”

Bachira turned you around, lifting your chin to tip your head up to meet his serious gaze. “Y/N, you are not a hassle to me. You’re my friend. And friends help friends, amirite?” 

You had to muster a smile at his innocence. “Yes, Meguru. You’re right.” Looking into those golden eyes you missed after the longest, loneliest three months of your life, you teared up again. “I-I’m sorry—”

He shushed you with a finger on your lips and a grin. “Don’t cry anymore, Y/N. Meguru’s here, yeah? Come on. You said you’re hungry? Let me make you breakfast.” Without giving you a chance to refuse, Bachira took your groceries from you and your hand. “The little guy is gonna have the best breakfast of his life!”

“Meguru, wait—”

“And I’ll make him my special pancakes.”

“Megu-chan—” 

“And he can meet his grandma, too!” 

“Bachira!” 

He stopped in his tracks and looked down to find you flushed and glaring. Cocking his head to the side, Bachira widened his eyes, innocently scanning your angry expression. 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

You raised an exasperated brow, chagrined that he couldn’t connect the dots. 

How exactly did he think you arrived at the store? On a magic carpet? 

“Um, are you forgetting about my car? I can’t just leave it here for the whole day, genius.” 

You had no idea how you ended up living with the Bachiras.

It started with Yuu taking one look at you, your swollen belly and her son’s sheepish smile to put everything together. 

Since your own parents were in a precinct far from Tokyo, she took you in as her own, nevermind the fact that it was her son who got you knocked up in the first place. Despite the social stigma attached to a pregnancy out of wedlock, she never shamed you or made you feel less than perfect for your condition. Instead, you noticed how she would eye Meguru past the rim of her mug, a look of deep disappointment on her pretty features.

She heard about how you and her son met; how the both of you were strictly engaged in a physical affair and nearly bit her tongue off before she could nag Meguru. Though his mother was less than thrilled at the idea of being a grandmother in her late forties, Yuu Bachira was nothing but kind and sweet to the woman carrying her grandson. She made sure you were properly fed, had a soft enough bed in her guest room and even instructed Meguru to pick you up from the train station after work. 

It was everything you didn’t deserve and more. 

While his mother was trying her best to be accommodating to this staggering new change in her life, Bachira himself was struggling to coincide with the idea that you were carrying his baby. 

It started with an ultrasound appointment. Since he was locked in Germany for those three months you had to wade through this pregnancy on your own, he was more than eager to make up for lost time by sticking to your side. The first time he saw his baby boy on screen, he had teared up, cupping your sticky stomach and leaving kisses on your belly’s crown, your skin tacky from the ultrasound gel. Then, he complained on the entire ride home that his lips felt funky and tingly.

You had almost forgotten how eccentric your baby daddy was.

Where other men would give their women space to grow and nurture a human being, Meguru was always an inch away when you needed him. It didn’t matter if he was out the whole day training. The second you called and told him that you were waiting at the train station, you would be greeted not even five minutes later by a panting Meguru behind the wheel. Your feet were hurting? Meguru would stop and sit you down on a bench, removing your sandals to squeeze your swollen ankles, much to your flushed and embarrassed exasperation at passersby’s stopping to stare. 

And not to mention how neurotic he was with your food intake.

“I heard protein is good for the baby! Y’know… to help grow their limbs and muscles and stuff.” 

In all honesty, his eager cluelessness was adorable. But, the mountain of fresh sausages on a single plate was worrying.

“Megu-chan, this is too much food for me,” you whined, sliding your perplexed gaze to his. “I can’t possibly eat this much!” 

“Silly, I’ll help you,” he sang, sitting opposite of your huge plate of wieners before jumping back to his feet like this chair was made of hot coals. “Oops, forgot the mustard!” 

Life with Bachira Meguru was interesting, to say the least. 

Sometimes, you would catch him staring at your belly in wistful happiness. Other times, you would find yourself back in your bedroom after passing out on the couch, a blanket tucked underneath your chin and your favourite small extra pillow supporting your lower back. 

However, similar to every event in life, it would amount to nothing without conflict.

The first (and only) crease in your relationship with the eccentric striker unfurled through an unexpected visit. 

The air in the tiny apartment was charged with the presence of four burly men in the living room. When you came back home from your short walk around the neighbourhood, you hadn’t expected the extra pair of shoes by the doorway, or the boisterous laughs booming from behind the corner.

“... heard your piece of ass is living with you now—ow!” 

“That is no way to talk about a pregnant woman.” 

An ungraceful snort resounded through the small space that reminded you of a bull huffing. “I meant to say that Bachira’s little friend is a little too comfortable, here, no?” 

“For real, man. I think I saw a breast pump catalogue somewhere on the table.”

“Shut the fuck up, Raichi.” Meguru never showed his annoyance to anyone’s face. Whoever this Raichi guy was, he must be a piece of work to get your baby daddy this riled up. 

“Aw. C’mon, don’t tell me you’re in love with her.”

Something about the words ‘love’ and ‘Bachira’ in one sentence had you pausing by the doorway to hone in on his unfiltered confession. Maybe you were a lovesick fool, and maybe you were naive to the core—but you had weakly hoped his feelings for you were more than friendly. Call it a delusion, but it was too late to separate logic from the illusion his kind and considerate gestures gave you.

“Nah,” the voice you were starting to love touched your ringing ears. “I’m not in love with her. Just being nice, that’s all. I feel bad for getting her knocked up before leaving Japan. We’re just friends.”  

Someone laughed. Your shoulders slumped forward, heart shattering into pieces. 

A hollow, dying tree has more life compared to your stiff joints. You gingerly took one step back, conflicted by the sudden onset of nausea and anger. It soon gave way to a profound disappointment which corroded through your lungs like acid fumes.

You choked back on a cry, spinning around and slipping your shoes back on. Barely fazed that someone could hear you rushing down the hall, your pattering footsteps faded in the distance, and the tiny apartment you were beginning to call home continued to stand in ignorance, oblivious to the inner earthquake rocking you apart. 

Your pain barely touched the real world, its ripples muted. 

The same way your presence made no difference in Bachira Meguru’s life.

It was close to evening time and you still weren’t home. 

Those idiots he had the pleasure of calling teammates had fucked off for dinner, leaving him anxious and worried for your safety when you hadn’t responded to his text of Where are you? 

Bachira was halfway contemplating if he should start putting up posters of you, when the front door clicked open. His mother entered, bearing a frosty glare and sharp eyes, dashing his hopes and igniting his anxiety in one enraged glance. 

“Ka-san, have you seen—”

“What did you say to her?” 

Meguru blinked. “Say to who?” 

“Y/N,” Yuu replied angrily, as if her son’s obliviousness personally insulted her. “I found her crying by the staircase, refusing to come back up here. Said she overstayed her welcome and if I could send her back to her own apartment.” The frown lines on his mother’s forehead deepened. “What did you say to her, Meguru?” 

His golden eyes widened. “Nothing! I swear. W-what did she tell you?” 

Yuu set her art bag on the table, sighing. “She didn’t make any sense.” Narrowing her eyes, she glared at her son again. “But, I sent her back to her apartment. She was almost hysterical and I didn’t want to stress her out even more. I’ll be packing her things.” 

Helpless to stop his mom from arranging your small suitcase filled with your belongings, Meguru shifted from foot to foot, wondering if he had done something wrong and how he could make it right.

“Should I talk to her?” He wondered out loud.

Yuu wrinkled her nose. “Give her some time to gather herself. You can talk to her when she’s calmer.” 

Continuing to pack up your things, his mother barely paid him any attention. Meguru was reminded of those times when he was younger. How guilty he felt when he took in Yuu’s exhausted, but determined expression from raising a child all on her own. 

“Ka-san, I want to speak to her,” he murmured. “It’s not right that she’s alone. She’s pregnant.”

Unlike his mother who had to work hard to provide for him, Meguru would never put you through the same thing. He was here as your friend and support; you could count on him to share the burdens with you.

Yuu paused from picking up your night clothes, tilting her head to the side. “If you want to talk to her, I’m not able to stop you. But, just remember to not stress her out. Like you said—she’s pregnant.” 

He nodded, despite how she couldn’t see him doing so with her back turned. 

Gathering his car keys and courage, Bachira dragged himself out of the apartment and to his car, determined to reach out to you. 

The journey to your place was calm for a Saturday night, and once he reached your front gates, he was reminded of the nights he snuck here, blonde-brown hair tucked under his hoodie and hands in his pockets. Trying to seem cool enough to earn your approval.

Bachira internally cringed at the memory and set forward towards your unit. He knocked on the door, peeling his eyes and ears for a sign of you. Eventually, his relentless knocks and calls of your name attracted the sound of your footfalls walking towards the door. Worried, flaxen eyes swept down your figure wrapped in a loose t-shirt the second the door opened, guilt consuming him when he noticed your red-rimmed eyes and wet nose.

“Meguru,” you mumbled, straightening. “Why’re you here?” 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Bachira had never had to apologised for something he didn’t do. But, he wanted to try for you. “Whatever I did, Y/N… I’m sorry, okay? Come back and stay with us. It’s not good to be alone in your state.” 

Staring up at his hulking figure, your expression crumbled into one of misery. Bachira found himself gripping your cheeks before his mind could play catch-up. He tipped your head back with two fingers, forcing you to confront his panic.

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me how I can make you feel better. What do you want from Meguru to help you?” 

The fact that he would sometimes refer to himself in third-person never failed to make you giggle, a watery, pathetic laugh breaking free past your clenched teeth. 

“It’s stupid.”

“Not a valid reason, princess. Try me.”

“Don’t hate me.” 

“I won’t,” he promised, brushing a loose lock of hair from your face. “You can tell me anything.” 

You flickered your gaze to your laced fingers, fiddling with your hands. “I… I heard what you told your friends. That you don’t—” you cringed back, but his fingers around your cheeks held you firm, coaxing you to give him the full picture of your distress. Inhaling deeply, you forced yourself to continue. 

“That you don’t love me.” 

His brows were knitted together, mouth set in a frown. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch.

“I know we’re just friends. That you don’t see me as a partner and we’re just co-parenting our baby. But… but I want more, Meguru. Do you understand where I’m coming from?” 

It took legions of courage to admit to someone that you wanted love. As clueless and eccentric as the world saw him, loneliness was a common emotion that he understood very well. And right before him, Bachira could see that you were so incredibly lonely.

He never thought about the effects of his treatment on you. How his polite and friendly gestures could be interpreted as disinterest. The truth was, Bachira was crazy about you. He never wanted to stay friends, but the timing was never right. His career would take him to another country for another season and you were in a delicate state with your pregnancy. Despite his overwhelming emotions, the young striker could not deny how you brightened his every waking moment.

Whether it was watching you devour an entire tub of ice-cream and moan about it later, or tucking you into bed after finding you dozing off on the couch, you held a special part in his heart which he rarely ever gave to people who were not Isagi or his mom. 

You were his special friend.

And he was in love with you.

“Silly, silly girl,” Bachira cooed, catching you by surprise. He leaned forward, pecking your forehead first, then your damp cheeks. “For such a smart woman, you can be so stupid sometimes.” 

Indignation rushed through your face, and you opened your mouth, that hot temper he found incredibly sexy fighting to put him in his place. Rather than letting it spill out, Bachira claimed your lips with his, silencing your anger. Replacing it with your soft moans and parted lips that silently screamed for more. 

He nudged you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him. Luckily, your shirt and shorts were easy to yank off and your couch was three feet away from the entrance. He sat down on the sturdy cushion, parting his knees and tugging you to sit on top of his bulge. Touching you in a way he hadn’t done since the moment he put his baby in you. 

And what a sight it was. He traced your bulging belly with lust-imbued eyes, biting on his lower lip to stifle an embarrassing, animalistic groan.

“You’re so sexy, mama,” he whispered, reaching out to knead your tits. “So fucking round and glowy. I should put more babies in you.”

You tossed your head back with a soft mewl. “Mhm—Meguru…”

“Yeah, say my name, baby,” he taunted, using the tips of his thumbs to flick your hardening nubs. They were much more sensitive than he remembered, all hard and perky just for him. “Gonna make you fucking combust. Give your sweet, hot, mom-bod all the loving she deserves—”

Twining your fingers in his long hair, you tugged him closer, smashing your mouth onto his. An attempt to stop his teasing. Bachira gave you your way with him, allowing you to grind down on his bulge, slip your tongue in his mouth. He would be putty just for you; let you exert your pent-up hormonal frustrations on his willing body. 

You impatiently yanked his belt off, nearly ripping his jeans button off in an effort to get his cock. He leaned back, arms spreading across the back of your sofa as he took in the heavenly sight of your dainty hands pumping his cock. You barely had to arouse yourself; your soaked pussy drooling all over his knee and rock hard nipples were rearing to go. 

Bachira pinned his half-lidded eyes on you as you lowered yourself on his dick, craning your head forward to watch your pussy suck him in. He watched your expression spread with joyous lust, your brows scrunched in pleasure. You used him thoroughly as he expected. All he had to do was rock his hips upwards while you gripped his shoulders, fucking yourself up and down his cream-slickened length. 

Once in a while, you would lean forward and claim his lips in a desperate kiss, your hips frantically rocking back and forth over his swelling dick. Meguru let his head loll back, his biceps and thighs tensing against your couch. When you pitched forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, he let his patience snap, strong arms vining around you and taking over your weak grinding to thrust up heavily into your welcoming pussy. 

“Let Meguru take care of you, honey,” he mumbled into your neck. “You’re my fucking gorgeous Queen, yeah? Shouldn’t be lifting a damn finger to fuck yourself if I can help it.” 

His low grunts and masculine groans reverberated against your throat, driving you deeper into your insanity. 

“M-Meguru—!” 

“Close?” he panted, brushing his nose against your pulse point. “Cum for me, mama. Make your Daddy proud, yeah?” 

Something about that simple term—’Daddy’—had you seeing stars behind your eyes.

“Yes, Daddy!” you cried out, thighs tensing and pussy choking down on his dick. “Yes, yes, yes! I’m so close!” 

The band around your belly snapped, careening you off the edge. Bachira was not far behind, and he pulses inside of you, filling you with his hot seed within three searing seconds. 

Exhausted and dazed, the both of you slump into each other’s arms, satisfied beyond a shade of doubt. 

Bachira squeezed your hips, a ghost of his chuckle brushing your jaw. 

“Mama? You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you responded back weakly. “M’okay.”

“Marry me.” 

The dizzy curtains of an afterglow retreated back slightly, and your eyes widened. You peeled your sweaty cheek from the crook of his neck, staring at him with a trapped breath.

“W-What?” 

Completely serious now, Bachira’s gaze could’ve penetrated your soul. “You heard me, mama. I want you to be mine forever. So, marry me.” 

“B-but,” you sputtered, tripping over your words. “W-we haven’t even been on a date. You don’t know me that well. I—”

“Didn’t you want me to be in love with you? What better way to show you that than tying the knot?” He quirked one brow up, looking so ridiculous and handsome at the same time, you had to bury your face back into his neck.

“I didn’t mean marriage just yet!” you whisper-yelled. 

“So you don’t want to marry me?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant, I—I do!” 

“Then, I do, too. That settles it. Boom. We’re married.”

Despite how ridiculous this conversation was, you burst out into laughter, and then, your peals of giggles morphed into sobs. 

“Hey, hey,” Meguru cooed in panic, rushing to brush the wetness from your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.” 

You stared at him in his entirety with pure love in your watery gaze. How infuriating, silly and beautiful he absolutely was. Irrational as it was, you reached forward to cup his face, squishing his cheeks together and squeezing them. Your beloved, annoying, sweet, eccentric Bachira. 

“You are so adorable.” 

He blinked. “So are we getting married or not?” 

Another watery giggle slipped past your lips, and you released his cheeks, preferring to press your forehead to his. 

“Yes,” you finally admitted after a beat of silence, marvelling at how easy it was for him to change your mind without putting much effort into it. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married, Meguru.”

— feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <33

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or claim as your own.

[naoristerling]

Beomgyu fanfic recomendation | Tumbrl ao3

moonstone (why didn't you tell me) - choi beomgyu

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i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu | 11,7k @beom-pyu bests fingem ser casados

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[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Knackered & Insatiable

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes warning: MDNI, mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood, SMUT Note: I cannot believe how much you guys LOVED Part 1!!! I've written three pieces in my life (check out my Ao3 for my other works lol) and none of them have ever gotten this much of a response. Thank you so much for your praise and overwhelming support, it really means a lot to me as a first-time writer :) Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Ghost swirled the drink in his glass before lifting his mask up just enough to sip his whiskey. The team had insisted on getting to know his wife before they returned to England and Ghost “stole her away forever”, as they’d put it. He knew damn well, now that she’d met everyone, there wasn’t a chance in Hell she would let that happen. And while he may put on a good show of being a grump about it, secretly, he was glad. It was almost nice to see her mingling with his frie–team over a few drinks (hers being a bottle of water) and a football (she would call it a “soccer ball”, but he digressed). 

He watched Soap, Gaz, and Freyja bobbing around the open space, kicking the ball back and forth, occasionally playing keep away. Gaz slid at her in an attempt to knock the ball loose from her control, which she swiftly countered and danced around him, laughing maniacally as the man shouted at her in protest. His lips tugged at the corner in a grin, shaking his head lightly at her antics.

She’d dressed down into her standard t-shirt but kept her boots and uniform pants on, her hair tied back out of her face. Without her gear or outerwear, even her oversized shirt, her bump protruded slightly where the shirt tucked into her belt. He’d been told that every person carried differently; her bump was small, due in part to her exercise regimen. God, he’d missed her.

He’d even been gracious enough to allow her time to gossip with his teammates, spilling (some) details about their relationship. How they met (work), who made the first move (classified), how Simon proposed (he didn’t); so gracious that he let a few embarrassing remarks slip past his radar.

Just a few.

“Did you know he has stretch marks–”

He whistled through his teeth. “Oi, watch it,” he warned, jerking his hand in front of his neck as to say ‘cut it’.

“But the stretch marks, Si!”

Ghost’s eyes traced her movements, wild hands pointing at her thighs, hips, underarms, and knees. He chastised her with a warning sound, and the three huddled together in whispers, no doubt continuing to quietly discuss topics they shouldn’t. He had a feeling he would be seeing a lot more of his fellow soldiers outside of the base. They eventually continued their game again.

Price took a seat next to him on the bench. Ghost said nothing. “How far along are you now?”

He took a deep breath, calming himself. Bold of Price to ask about the child he willingly endangered. “Fourteen weeks.”

John’s head bobbed, and he leaned back against the building behind them with his arms crossed. “Still struggling with the morning sickness, I see?”

That much was obvious. “The doctor said it should clear up soon. Usually only lasts ‘til ‘bout now,” he explained, still not meeting his eyes, choosing to follow his wife.

Silence passed between the two, the chirps of native bugs and shenanigans from the team filling the air.

The weight of his upper body on his forearms became uncomfortable, and Ghost sat back too. He sighed through his nose, keeping his sight forward. “I didn’t ask you not to call her for this job as your Lieutenant. I asked as your friend.”

John hesitated, mulling over the fact as he carefully chose his next words. He didn’t come up with much. “I know. I’m sorry.” What else was there to say?

Nothing.

Ghost nodded once, satisfied, and threw back the remains of his drink. The most important thing was that she was okay now. He knew the Captain was desperate for another player on that mission, and he was confident Price wouldn’t do it again.

Price seemed to understand that he had been forgiven. “Want another?”

“Negative, sir. She’ll lose steam in a minute.”

Sure enough, as predicted, she gave up her game and relented the ball to Kyle. Soap cheered with his arms in the air, sloshing his beer a bit with the motion. Freyja looked over her shoulder at him and raised a brow, eyes shifting toward their building. He acknowledged her request as she wished the others a good night's rest, rising to follow her to bed. Ghost fell into step a few paces behind her when a sharp whistle caught his ear. He turned his shoulder to look, and saw Soap with his hand out, gripping an imaginary leash with his tongue out as Gaz walked ahead of him like a dog.

He flipped them off and continued behind her.

~*~

The minute they returned to his quarters, Freyja had thrown herself down onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, not even bothering to strip out of her uniform. Ghost took her idea and, in his uniform, carefully straddled her waist. He offered her each of his hands, and she immediately went to work removing his gloves, smiling warmly at him. She gingerly traced the outline of his lips through his mask, a questioning look in her eyes. He accepted and tilted his chin up, allowing her to slip under the edge of the mask, drawing it up and off his head, leaving him with just the black paint on his face. Freyja plopped it on the headboard above them with his gloves.

“There he is.” Her cheeks were warm and rosy from the dry heat of the area, and all of the jogging she did outside.

“Hi, sweethear’.”

She tugged him down by his blonde locks at the nape of his neck, capturing his lips in hers. He dropped his weight onto his forearms, keeping away from her belly while his lips moved slowly against hers. A month had passed since he saw her, let alone touched her. However, when she nipped fiercely at his bottom lip, pulling a soft moan from Simon–

“Love,” he groaned, forcing himself to break away, as much as it pained him. “I don’t have it in me right now. I’m absolutely knackered.”

Freyja turned up a brow at him. “Wow. I’ve never heard that one before. Are you okay?” she asked, rubbing her thumbs against his cheekbones.

His head leaned into her touch, melting in the palms of her hands. The effect she had on him was something he’d never experienced before and was what drew him to the soldier. Quick and cunning, skilled and strong, but also impossibly loving and soft and gentle. Nobody had ever shown him the kind of attention she did, and he found himself craving it when they would inevitably separate for deployment. 

He didn’t want to argue with his wife again after not seeing each other for so long, but the pit in Simon’s chest wasn’t budging either. Simon sighed and turned his head, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I was serious when I said I’m pissed.”

“Simon, I know I shouldn’t have–”

“No, just– let me talk.” He brushed a loose hair from her forehead. “I…I don’t ask much of you. I asked – no, told you to do one thing. To stay home and protect our baby.”

Her brows pinched together, maintaining eye contact with him. “Simon, I can take care of myself,” she whispered, a bit confused.

“I know you can. I’ve seen you in the field, seen what you can do. You’re capable of slaughtering dozens of men at a time without breaking a sweat.” Simon rolled his shoulders to move off of her, laying on his back to stare at the ceiling. He rarely got so upset with her, if ever. Even rarer that he became a stuttering mess that couldn’t string a sentence together properly. He hated the feeling. “Why did you do tha’? What if you’d gotten hurt? What if someone comes after you when I’m not around? Wh–”

“Stop. You’re spiraling again.” Freyja turned onto her side, worried eyes studying his features. He’d picked up the habit since the pregnancy tests (seven of them to be exact) turned positive. “I–I know I messed up. I’m so, so sorry, Si. I didn’t…didn’t want to hurt you. I promise I won’t go out again. I just–” Her eyes watered, and she dragged the heel of her palm against the dampness on her cheek. “I’m h-having such a hard time. I love this baby, but I feel so–so useless just sitting at home.”

Oh, sweetheart… “Budge up,” Simon muttered, his voice gravelly as he tapped her thigh and scooched down a bit himself. His right arm slipped under her hip while the other tugged her shirt up to reveal their growing baby. Simon smiled softly at the sight and peppered kisses all over her bump. He eventually nuzzled into her chest and draped her leg over his hip before wrapping that arm around her waist. “I’m sorry I ‘aven’t been round. I know how much you miss work. But just look at this precious thing you’re making, Frey; you’re creating a whole person in there. My strong, drop-dead gorgeous wife and beautiful son–”

“Or daughter.”

Simon’s deep chuckle vibrated against her chest and belly, warmth blooming there. “Right. Or daughter,” he pressed another kiss to her chest. “You’re the strongest person I know. Just you watch. I’ll be home for a good long while now; we can work something out with Price, and get you some desk duty so you’re not sat at home twiddlin’ your thumbs all day. Keep you busy, yeah?”

Freyja nodded in agreement, smiling down at her husband. “Okay,” she croaked, sniffling a bit.

“Good. Now go to sleep, love. I really am knackered.”

“I love you, Simon.”

“I love you too, Frey.”

~*~

Soap rapped his knuckles against the door for his Lieutenant’s quarters after (again) failing to locate Captain Riley in hers. He waited for a breath and was about to knock again when he heard an affirming grunt from the other side of the door.

“Aye, if I see any naked bodies–” He poked his head into the room, finding the two tangled up in each other. Fully clothed, thankfully. He barely caught the bare strip of Simon’s cheek from his angle. He immediately piped down when he realized she was still sleeping. “Lieutenant?”

“Wot?” he grumbled, not moving from his comfortable position. Soft and warm.

John remained silent, eyes shifting between Simon and the sleeping body next to him.

“What do you need, Sergeant.”

“I don’t want to wake ‘er, sir,” he whispered in a hushed voice. He truly didn’t want to face the consequences of waking a pregnant Riley. He was, however, less worried about the wrath of his Lieutenant and more about his other half.

Simon turned his chin up slightly, focusing on her steady, soft breaths and even heartbeat. In the first weeks of her pregnancy, before leaving for deployment, she had taken to sleeping like a rock. Obviously, that fact was still true. He settled back into her t-shirt.

“She’s fine. Speak.”

Soap hesitated but took his word for it. “Ah, Captain said we’re good to go. Wheels up in thirty.”

He grunted again, still unmoving. ”Alright. We’ll be ready.”

He could sense the Scot still stuck in his doorway, continuing to disturb his peace, and his irritation grew. “Quit hoverin’, Johnny. I said we’ll be ready. Get out,” he all but growled.

“Sorry, sir.” Soap turned to leave but stopped himself. “Almost fo’got, wanted to give ya’s a warnin’, it’s pishin’ it doon out there.”

His patience had grown thin and irritability impossibly higher. “Speak. English.”

Soap’s mouth opened with a turned lip, just about to quip a snarky retort–

“It’s raining fuckin’ hard.”

His eyes blew wide, jaw dangled loosely, staring at the previously silent form the soft, sleepy voice came.

“Thank you, love.”

“I—How— Beg your pardon?” John stuttered, pointing between Freyja and Ghost in utter shock.

Her grip on her husband tightened with a groan, eyes fluttering as she tried to adjust to the morning light. “What? What did I do?” she mumbled, curving her back inward to stretch, her neck popping.

“But–I don’t– You know Scots?”

“Oh. I suppose. Cannae ge’ the accent righ’, though,” she said, exhibiting what was indeed her very poor attempt at a Scottish accent.

Still, he gawked at them, unmoving. He eventually snapped out of his reverie, a wicked smile creeping onto his face. “Jesus, I’m sorry Lt. but I think I’m gettin’ hard,” he teased, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Simon blindly reached for the mask above his head, scooting up a bit for a quick kiss before slipping it on. The black war paint around his eyes remained, but more worn and smudged with sleep. The Sergeant Oooh’d in the background. “Johnny, what did I tell you ‘bout flirting wit’ my wife?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed in a sitting position.

Freyja followed him, sitting up and pressing her chest against Simon’s back. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing her palms across his sternum and abdomen, fingers dipping into the ridges of his muscles. “Simon, you really shouldn’t make threats you don’t intend to keep,” she pressed her lips against the warm skin at the back of his neck. He hummed softly, leaning back into her.

“Who said I won’t?”

“Alright, alright, I’m not tryna cock-block,” Soap threw his hands up in defense, backing out of the doorway. “I’m goin’. Tarmac in thirty.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the couple alone again. Simon moved to stand but was immediately restricted by her arms and legs as she whined. “Can I help you?” he asked, settling back down and glancing at her over his shoulder.

Freyja rose to her knees and tugged at his shirt, untucking it from his waistband. “Maybe,” she said against the side of his throat. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Are you Simon,” her fingers pressed into his waist. She licked a stripe on his thrumming pulse before closing her mouth over the spot, sucking generously. Simon hissed through his teeth and dropped his head against her shoulder. “Or Ghost?”

“God, you are insatiable.”

“Only when you don’t give me what I want.”

“And wha’s that?”

“Been a while since you fucked me stupid, yeah?”

A deep growl tore from him, and he whipped around, pouncing on her. The balaclava and skull plate flew across the room. His lips crushed hers, teeth and tongues smashing together. Rough fingers wrapped around her throat, holding her down to the mattress as he leaned over her. “Your British is fuckin’ shit.”

“Mmm, what’re you gonna do about it?” she challenged, smirking against his mouth. She loved instigating him, even more so now that her hormones were through the roof. The last week at home had been almost unbearable. 

Freyja’s eyelids flickered at the sudden pressure, not enough to cut off oxygen but enough to effectively shut her up. She felt her walls flutter at the sensation, a puddle forming in her underwear.

“Good girl,” Simon practically purred, dragging his lips down to the underside of her chin, nipping at the skin, followed by a soothing lick at the affected spot. His free hand crawled down her body, rising and falling over the various curves before stopping at her pants. “Is this what you want?”

She nodded vigorously, so he swiftly unfastened the fatigues and dove his hand in. “Mmm, so needy for me. I’ve barely even started, sweetheart,” he slipped two fingers through her soaked lips, sucking a bruise at her throat. He ground his aching bulge against the edge of the bed, searching for some relief. Simon swirled tight but lazy circles around her clit with her collected juices, getting a muffled moan. “Like that?”

“Mhm…”

“Use your words, Frey.”

“F-Fuck– Need you, Si, n-now.”

He cocked his head to the side, releasing her throat to unbutton and unzip his pants. “Already? I’m feelin’ a bit, peckish love. Not gonna let me have a taste?” He slid down to his knees, nibbling down over her t-shirt and pulling the zipper of her pants.

“NO!” She shouted, and his eyes shot up to hers with a brow quirked. “N-No, I need you to fuck me. Please, Simon,” she begged, her voice desperate.

“Fast and hard, eh? A’right.” Simon stood, then hooked his hands behind her knees, yanked her to the edge of the bed, and flipped her over, her feet firmly planted on the floor. “Careful,” he pressed softly against her bump, keeping her stomach off the bed.

The sniper growled at him, starting to get frustrated. “Simon, I swear to fucking God– Ah!” she squeaked when a much firmer hand shoved her face into the mattress.

“Naughty girl… I’m getting there. Be patient,” he ordered. He waited until she showed her understanding with another sharp nod. Simon finally pulled her pants and panties down to her knees. “Fuckin’ Hell,” he moaned, admiring the view as he dropped his pants enough to pull himself out, giving himself a few strokes. “Who’s this cunt belong to?” he asked, dragging the tip through her folds.

“You, it's all yours!”

Eager to please, Simon rested one palm on the small of her back as the other slowly eased himself into her. His head dropped back, unable to help the soft moans and whimpers at her walls around him. “F-fuck, never get sick of this sweet cunt,” he stilled himself in her when he bottomed out. “Not even in you for a second ‘n I already wanna cum.”

She pulled her hips forward, desperate for him to move and, as promised, fuck her senseless. Bruising fingers gripped the extra flesh at her hip with a groan. “Naughty,” he repeated, drawing out of her to the tip before diving back in just as slowly. “Maybe if ya beg some more, I’ll give it to ya.”

Freyja whined as his cock dragged painstakingly slowly along her insides. “P-please, please fuck me, Simon. I need your cock so bad. I’m desperate,” she begged, her hands shaking as she gripped the scratchy blanket under her with white knuckles. “Been w-waiting so long for you to come home, please!”

Simon twitched inside her, his wife’s begging scratching just the right spot in his brain. “Ngh, fuck Frey.” He slammed into her, his eyes rolling into the back of his head while he started a steady pace.

“God, Simon, ‘s so good–”

“Look at me,” he said, turning her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again…My name.”

Her smirk almost immediately wiped off her face when he brushed her clit again, eliciting another breathy, gasped moan. “Simon!”

“Mmm, again.”

“S-Simon…fuck!”

“Cum for me, love, cum on my cock. Wanna feel you–”

She stared into his eyes, the sounds of his hips slapping her hips, the wet sounds of her sex thrumming between them, and her heavy pants thrumming between them until she finally pulsed around him, her pitch kicking up an octave. “Ah, Simon, I-I’m cumming, fuck!”

“Jesus fuck–! Y/N, Y/N,” he whined, choking on her name as the tight coil inside him snapped and spilled into her, his hips stuttering. Simon’s chest rested against her back when he dropped his hand next to her for support. He stilled, echoing her name over and over while he pumped her full of his cum. She was grinning back at him over her shoulder and dragging her nails up and down his forearm, humming at the warm pool inside her.

Simon slid his free hand under the back of her shirt, stroking between her shoulder blades. They stood unmoving, panting, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. His spend was starting to creep out around him, turning into milky drops threatening to break free and fall to the floor. He could stay like that forever, her gaze holding his as he warmed his cock in her–

“Hey Ghost–”

THUNK

The tip of a black combat knife sank into the soft wood of the door frame, a breath away from his nose. Kyle stopped short of passing through the threshold, the door only open a crack. “Bad time, got it,” he said, his voice cracking a bit before the door clicked shut again. “Sorry!” his voice muffled by the door between them before his footsteps scurried away.

Freyja giggled and pressed her face into the mattress, attempting to stifle her laughter.

“Not funny.”

“Really? I thought it was a little bit funny, Lieutenant,” she said, wiggling her hips against his. Simon’s breath hitched, and both hands shot back to stop the movement.

“Ey, none’a that. Be a good girl or you won’t be getting a thing out of me later,” he threatened, raising a blonde brow in challenge. She pouted up at him in return but nodded with a disgruntled Fine, slowly leaning forward until he popped out of her with a groan. The woman eased herself up until she stood fully and turned to face him, standing on her tiptoes to reward him with a sweet, lazy kiss. When Simon was least expecting, she swiped a finger along his dick, causing him to jerk at his sensitivity, collecting their mixed fluids before popping the digit into her mouth. “You’re a minx, y’know that?”

“Mhm.”

“Hn.” He pulled her panties and underwear back up for her, fingers lovingly caressing their growing baby when he went to button them again. He wasn’t proud to admit that he hadn’t reacted well to the initial news of his wife’s pregnancy. Simon had never wanted children or a family before her, given his experiences with his own as a child. The last thing he wanted was to turn out like his father, an abusive, mean drunk with a violent streak and an inclination for scaring the pants off little Simon. 

That all changed at their first ultrasound. The soft thrum of the baby’s heartbeat echoed off the walls of the small room and burned into his mind on a constant playback. His baby. Their baby.

Mine. 

He supposed the second-trimester hormones were a nice touch, too.

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Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [3/4 - Incomplete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.] . Urban Legend "I hate myself for saying this, but I have to agree with Little Miss Sunshine," Caroline cuts in. "This is Whitmore. Nothing ever happens here. Least of all a possession that leads to a massacre of slasher movie proportions."

"Thank you, love," Klaus returns brightly. "Very flattering to be validated by you."

"Bite me, Klaus."

"Find me later, after my shift, and we can see to it," comes the shameless rejoinder.

[Or: Caroline tries to navigate life in college having the worst roommate ever, a douchebag who cannot take a hint and a nosy journalist whom she's definitely not attracted to. Never in a million years.]

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

don't let me go

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Summary: Y/n gets a concussion in the field but thinks nothing of the headache and later ends up in the hospital with a worrysick Emily.

Notes:

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written fanfiction so if I’m rusty, just bear with me okay, and hopefully the burst of inspiration with last long enough me for to get back into the flow of things.

* Part 2 will be the ending probably.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: mentions of dizziness, headache pain, nightmare, and a very sad Emily (not forever though)

Word count: 1,638

It was supposed to be a regular Tuesday. That’s all.

You hadn’t intended any for this. The pain, the darkness, the silent, deadly suspension between life and death. The cold isolation from everything and everyone you loved—from her.

It just was supposed to be a regular fucking Tuesday. Where did it go wrong?

**

You couldn’t catch your breath; your lungs were on fire and pumping over time from the relentless running, running, running. Sweat matted the hair to your forehead and neck while your ponytail lashed at the wind and your arms and legs muscles screamed from the exertion. You didn’t feel it, though, not with the adrenaline and anger coursing through your bloodstream and the news that a 7-year-old girl’s life was hanging by a thread in a hospital bed and five more lay dead in the morgue because of the motherfucker.

You couldn’t stop. You knew if you did, he would disappear from your radar only to pop up 2-3 years later with the flashing headlines of another murder taunting and screaming at you from a pixelated screen for letting him get away.

So you kept running and running and running. Down street after street, Derek and Emily running perpendicular to you, and the rest of the team split into two cars coming from other directions.

Hotch was giving you orders, and the comms line was buzzing with information from the rest of the team as they tried to predict which direction he would turn next.

But you didn’t hear any of it; it was all white noise, with your surroundings blurring into flashing colors. You were the closest to him. So close you could nearly reach out and touch his shirt collar. So you gritted your teeth into near pain and pushed your tired limbs to go just a little farther, just a little faster.

Your lungs screamed because you hardly had any breath left to give, but you didn’t care—you nearly had him dammit.

Just. A. Little. Farther. And at the last second, without even thinking of it, without feeling a thing… you jumped. Careening toward him, clasping around his torso with an iron grip, you sent both yourself and the unsub flying in a mass of limbs through the street.

Your body smashed against the gravel and rolled with your head slamming into the concrete…but you never let go because you had him dammit. And you didn’t feel a thing.

**

“Y/n!!”

“Y/n! Hey, wake up!”

You jolted awake and flinched away from the warm hand on your already burning body. You couldn’t see a damn thing in the dark, and the air wasn’t reaching your lungs because part of your exhausted mind thought you were still back there—in the dream that wasn’t a dream but a faster and more truthfully terrifying version of the reality you faced the day before.

The sheets were becoming twisting, confining vines around your legs. You still couldn’t breathe right, and the shadows in your room were morphing into ghouls and demons that only caused the sweat on your body to run cold with quickening fear.

Just as you were making up your mind to run, a light flicked on, and a familiar face came into your hazy vision.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Emily.”

Briefly, you looked at her with trepidation before your mind finally caught up with you, and your crumpled look of fear and confusion relaxed.

“Em.” Sighing, you fell back into your sweat-soaked pillow and closed your eyes while the first breath since waking up eased into your tired lungs.

Emily lightly brushed the matted hair from your forehead and looked at you with concern and solemnity. Because she knew this would come, had learned to expect it not just with you but herself also. After years of fighting the flesh and blood monsters, the imaginary ones would come to take their place until those two could be conquered.

“Deep breaths, angel. That one was rough,” she said while rubbing your arm gently. She would never admit it to you, but it scared her to see you like this.

Your eyes were still closed to try and stop your vision from spinning, but you could hear the soft tremor in her voice. “Hmm, oh, I don’t know. I give it a 4—you pulled me out of it pretty quickly, huh?”

“You still haven’t caught your breath, though, nor opened your eyes.”

At that you did look at her. Slowly, you let your eyes wander over her face: the telltale wrinkle of worry between her brows, the adorable bed hair that she would never stop arguing with you about how it is, in fact, not cute; the soft, flushed cheeks that you can’t help but want to kiss every second of the day; those completely kissable lips that are pressed into a frown; and finally, the endlessly beautiful dark brown eyes that could hold a thousand emotions at once and whose depths you could happily become transfixed by and lost in for eternity.

You looked at her with a familiar comfort and love that is as old as time itself. The kind of love that could cross time and space to reach two people who will continually find one another in every lifetime, in every universe.

“I’m okay, Em. I’m here with you, so I’m okay.” You reached for her hand, kissed her palm, and placed it against your chest so she could feel for herself.

Emily laid back down next to you and let her hand feel the steadying of your heartbeat. Moving her eyes over the plains of your face, she still marveled at how beautiful, strong, and human you were. After nearly two years together, she still was amazed at how much she loved you, at how you could continually make her feel like the most important person in the entire world, at how alive and human you could make her feel after years of feeling numb and cold to the world because of her demons.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” she said quietly. Without taking her eyes off of you, she turned off the lamp and pulled you closer to her.

“I’m still sweaty–”

“I don’t care. Let me hold you, please.”

“Okay, Em.”

She could feel you smiling against her neck, and she kissed the top of your head before burying her nose in your hair. Sighing in relief, she let herself be lulled back asleep by your soft breathing, because you were okay.

Right?

**

Later that morning.

“I still think you should go in—at least to get some stronger painkillers than fucking ibuprofen.”

“Emily, I’m fine,” you sighed in exasperation. You knew her worrying would only increase; it always does for either of you when something like this happens. “I got checked out yesterday, remember? And the headache will pass. It went away yesterday, and it’s going to go away today. Just give the pills time to work.”

You could see your words weren’t getting through to her with the way she was watching you like you would drop dead right in front of her. Her fingers were fidgeting already, and you knew she was fighting with herself not to start biting them.

Grabbing her hand, you rubbed soothing circles into her palm. “If it gets worse, I’ll tell you and will go, kay?”

Emily stared at you for five more seconds, letting the colors of your eyes, the feeling of your hand in hers, and your soft smile ease the stuttering, painful feeling in her chest before giving in. She pulled you back into her embrace, leaned back into the couch with you, and exhaled into your shoulder. “Okay…”

**

Five, ten, fifteen minutes into the movie that was playing, you could still feel her eyes on you—watching you for any signs of pain or discomfort. And to be honest, you could feel the headache creeping into unbearability and part of you hated both the headache and your body for falling out of your control.

The stabbing pain escalated to explosions across the back of your brain, the characters on the TV blurred in your failing vision, and you could feel the dizziness slowly clouding your senses.

“Alright, fine, let’s go.”

Emily’s breath hitched because you are always an inch more stubborn than she is, and if you're giving in, then it’s real this time, and no matter how many times you get hurt during a case, she will never be ready for it.

Slowly exhaling, she whispered, “I’ll get the keys and let the hospital know we’re coming,” because to say it any louder is like solidifying your pain into reality.

She lightly kissed your forehead and went to the kitchen to call the closest ER. You could hear her talking in the other room, and even that was becoming increasingly unbearable as the headache worsened.

Breathing in unsteady but measured breaths, you slowly stood and walked to the foyer where your shoes were, and just as Emily came out of the kitchen, you glanced up at her, and time slowed.

The explosive headache pain swallowed your mind, and black dots sporadically burst into your vision. You could feel the strength leaving your muscles, the sound of her voice escaping your ears, and for the first time since waking from your nightmare earlier that morning, you were terrified again. Your body felt so weightless and heavy at the same time—like you might fall through the floor or float up into space without a single tether to your life with Emily.

Slowly, you watched your hand limply reach out to her before the growing black dots finally swallowed your vision, and the last thing you saw was the look of terror on Emily’s face as she dropped her phone, screamed something you couldn’t hear, and ran to catch your body before it fell to the floor.

[oathkeeperoxas]

Hello, my friend! 44 or 71 for Icemav, if you're still warming up? <3<3<3

ELWEN yesssss going wild for this one. Forehead press my number 1, you will always be famous to me

71. lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other and barely having enough strength to breathe

The call comes at 6:43pm.

Ice lets it ring for three trills, still in that limbo of not knowing. Dead, or not dead? And the less important question of if the mission was a success or not. These two things are not related to each other. A successful mission could still mean a dead pilot. If that's the case, then he's already living in a world without Maverick Mitchell. If that's the case, then he has five more seconds of not knowing about it, before the knowledge sinks its teeth into him, inescapable.

He picks the phone up. He's has a lifetime of doing the hard work, making the terrible choices that no one else wants to make. He can't avoid this forever, and he wouldn't want to, so he puts the phone to his ear and listens, and when he puts it down he has to lean his elbows onto his desk, face in his hands. Gut swooping like he's just pulled an emergency barrel roll and hadn't had the chance to prepare for it. Sick, like he's grown so used to over his treatment, sick, like he's really going to throw up. But he's had a lot of practice with this too, so he swallows it all down neatly enough. There's still work to do, maybe more work, now that they'll have to switch to soothing Russia's ruffled feathers at having their sovereignty impinged upon. Mav and Bradley won't be back in the country for another day at least. He has plenty to do to fill the time until then.

The seconds tick past, and the minutes dribble through his fingers, and the hour hand on his watch inevitably ticks forward. He gets into a shouting match with the SECDEF and is called into conference with the JCS and watches as updates on the pilots who flew the mission trickle into his inbox. Mav's medical report is last, which means he only nibbles on dinner, a bad habit that Mav would scold him for. Ice would take it, would take any words from him, as long as he he here to speak them.

He works through the night and gets to sleep somewhere about quarter to five, and is back at his computer before ten. Mav's report has come in, and while it doesn't look great, it's not all bad news. He's walking under his own power, and while injured, apparently isn't in too much pain. Ice holds his own reservations about that. Mav's never enjoyed telling an authority figure everything. Ice will get the truth out of him when they see each other next.

All the pilots are in flight back to North Island, which means they're out of contact even if Ice wanted to reach out, which he doesn't. This isn't the first time that Mav has been on a mission and Ice has been able to do nothing but wait for him to come home. He prefers to wait to see Mav in person before they talk to each other. It's better that way.

He fends off orders to fly to Washington, at least delaying until tomorrow or the day after, and makes up for it by sitting on conferences all afternoon while typing away furiously at the dozens of emails that have landed in his inbox. Everything is a flurry of activity, everything needs his attention now, and yet he puts everything aside when he sees that the transport has landed at North Island, and that all the pilots have been taken for debriefing, except for the two who spent time on the ground, who have been shuttled to the base hospital. Ice packs up his laptop and notifies his driver, and is on the road immediately.

He's not in uniform, so manages to fly mostly under the radar until he hits the two Marines standing guard outside Mav's hospital room, who only give way when they recognise him. Ice bids them to wait outside, and closes the door behind him when he enters. There's a curtain that's hiding most of Mav from his sight; the only part of him that Ice can see are his feet, which are bare. His toes are poking out from the side of the blanket that Mav has thrown over him, and Ice is hit with a wave of emotion that's as irrational as it is powerful -- Mav's feet are uninjured. His toes are okay. He can see that. It makes it hard to breathe, and he steadies himself before stepping forward, not wanting to cough and worry his partner. This is not a moment for Mav to be worried about Ice.

"Did you bring me some real clothes?" Mav grumbles. "I'm not wearing this. This is an attack on decency. I'm fine. I don't need to be here. Who do I have to speak to, to go home?"

Ice closes his eyes and musters himself after that volley. Then he moves forward under full sail, to stand at the end of Mav's bed and lay a hand on his ankle.

"I didn't bring you any clothes," Ice rumbles, voice hoarse from all the speaking he's been putting it through today. "And you can come home when the doctors say you can leave."

"Ice," Mav says, eyes wide, and Ice can't stay away from him anymore. Mav is already struggling to sit up, and Ice sits on the bed and ropes his arms around him, lashing them together. Mav makes a low sound, torn somewhere from deep in his chest, and presses their heads against each other. Ice tilts them so their foreheads are together, noses and mouths close, breathing the same air. "Ice," Mav repeats, desperate, and Ice wants to squeeze him and never let him go for scaring Ice so badly, for coming to him in the first place and asking to do this, for daring to get shot down and for making Ice receive the news that he's dead, only to be told that he'd pulled off the impossible--

Ice presses a palm to Mav's neck to feel his pulse, and they're both gasping against each other, clinging like they're at sea and the other is their lifeboat. Like lovers to be parted on the morrow. Like they'll never get another day quite like this one.

"You scared the shit out of me," Ice manages, and Mav barks a laugh through his tears.

"You're telling me," Mav manages, cupping a hand on Ice's cheek and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. "I was pretty scared myself."

"The kid?" Ice asks.

"He's better than me. Young bones, and all that."

Ice can hardly breathe. He pulls away to clear his throat, and then comes back to lay his head on Mav's shoulder and press his face into Mav's throat. Mav's hand rests on the back of his neck. There's still so much to do. Ice can feel the weight of his emails piling up in his inbox. But he can put off making the hard decisions for an hour. He can let himself be human for an hour. Mav's arms have the power to protect him. He hasn't lost that privilege. He hasn't lost Mav.

"If you think I'm letting you do anything like that ever again--"

Mav laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I used that one favour up. Won't happen again. We're even now -- how about we don't do that to each other again, yeah?"

It's good he's sitting down. The dizzying relief would have forced him to anyway. He lays a kiss over Mav's pulse.

"I don't think cancer and flying into a deathtrap are particularly equivalent," Ice grits out. "But I'm willing to overlook that if you are."

Mav cradles him gently, laying kisses against his crown. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Ice sighs and sits up. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I know you've been lying to try and get out of here faster."

Mav sniffs, pretending to be offended. "They're not falling for it," he says plaintively.

"Good. Start telling them how you really feel. I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."

"Yeah?" Mav asks, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Ice says softly. "Gotta keep an eye on my troublemakers."

Mav's eyes crinkle into his familiar smile, and Ice is home, home, home.

A hundred different kisses prompt list

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c19. Splendid

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Carmen: Habanera, Georges Bizet.

abstract: this is what I usually do when I work, which is killing people and getting annoyed at my subordinates. in case you're dumb enough not to have noticed, this is Simon. anyway, technical boring chapter, but a few important informations you should keep in mind…. it's gonna get messy, try to keep up.

'ETA is ten minutes.'

Jude had her arms crossed on her chest, her eyes were scanning the screens. There was a lot to take in. She could see the body cams footage, along with which soldier the camera belonged to. They were sitting in two separate cars, guns below their feet. Some were talking to each other. At some point, one of them turned and the Lieutenant appeared on video. He was looking ahead of him, arms crossed on his chest, silent and stoic. She looked away. She could see the weather radars, and the GPS on the remote control cars that were about to be sent ahead.

'India 0-1, this is Alpha 0-1, whether status check, over'. Alpha was the captain, she had gathered. 'Alpha 0-1, this is India 0-1…' she paused for a second 'weather is stable, nothing to report, over.' She knew by now everyone was listening to what she was saying. She kept a serious tone of voice. 'India 0-1, roger that, out.' Simon thought she was pretty good at this. She sounded like she had been doing it forever. How was she good at everything all the time? The car he was sitting in came to a halt, they prepared the two remote control vehicles to send in before them. Securing the two drones on top, one of his teammates spoke into his radio. 'India 0-1, it's Charlie 0-2, RC cars moving in, out.' Alba adjusted the screen to see it better, even thought it was still blank. There was silence for a few seconds, they were waiting for the vehicles to get in position. 'India, check status with Eagle 0-3 before we sent out the drones, out.' She heard Price speak again out of nowhere, which made her jump in her seat. 'Alpha, I'm checking now, out.' She quickly switched channels to communicate with the airplane. 'Eagle 0-3, this is India 0-1 last check before the drones are sent out, over.' The reply was instant. 'Nothing to report, all clear' that was what they said and what she repeated to the captain. 'Roger that, you should have vision in a few minutes.' She waited patiently, until on her smaller monitor appeared the live video from the drones, which got to the middle of the crater. One was gonna stay at a good altitude, giving her visual of the whole base, the other would slightly come down to try and identify Khorram. She wondered for a second if Arash was there with them… He had vanished, he never came back to the base and everyone assumed he was in the Middle East right now…

'India, you got visual?' She snapped back to reality. Focus. 'Positive.' Simon proceeded to start his climb with Soap and Rabbit. He was on the North side. The crater started getting steep once they approached the top, the air was hot and it had gotten more windy. Sand was in his eyes. He already felt sweat prickle down his back, his mask didn't help with ventilation. 'India 0-1, this is Bravo 0-2. We're in position. How copy?' He waited for Johnny to approach him, they would take down two of Khorram's men at the same time, the ones guarding the perimeter. On the East side, the Alpha team would do the same with the third one. 'Bravo 0-2, copy loud and clear' he heard her sweet voice ring in his ear though the headphones. 'Wait for Alpha team, I'll update you.' He felt a knot in his stomach form for a second. 'They're not in position yet?' he asked. 'They're still climbing, it's much steeper on their side'. He rolled his eyes, positioning himself between two rocks and adjusting his sniper in place with the silencer. 'You still have good visual?' he spoke again. He was just making sure everything was going well, no harm in that. Without the captain, he was the one in charge after all. 'I do', she simply replied, clearly not wanting to be questioned. 'Let me know when they're close…' she didn't respond. 'India 0.1, how copy?' Why do you have to be annoying even when I'm working on the other side of the world? 'Loud and clear, Bravo 0-2'.

He heard a chuckle. She heard it too. In sync, him in the middle of the desert, her in an office in America, they both turned their heads to the source of the laughter. Squatting behind the Lieutenant was Rabbit. She looked at Simon's body cam, which was partly turned towards him. He had a grin on his face. I can get you killed from over here, the fuck you laughing for? 'Sorry, India 0-1… you can say other words apart from loud and clear, you know?' She felt her cheeks go red. She cleared her throat before replying 'I'll say splendid if I'm in trouble.' She switched off, letting out a sigh. I don't even know you, shut the fuck up. She almost didn't pay attention enough to ear Simon tell off Rabbit, telling him to be quiet. Fortunately, Alpha team had reached position. The execution of the three snipers was relatively easy for Ghost and the others. The real deal was getting down without getting caught. 'Alpha 0-1 to all stations, start to climb down. Don't make a sound.' Her palms started sweating hearing Price pronounce those words. She focused on the screens that showed the images of the drones. 'India, tell us what you see', instructed the captain. 'There are three tents on the East side, I count four South side, in semicircle. There is a bonfire in the middle, I count… four men around. Armed.' She tried to be as clear as possible. 'One of the tents on the southern side is bigger than the others. There are two pick up trucks that could give cover to the Bravo team.' She added. 'Our man?' asked an unknown voice, 'I don't see him', she replied. She squinter her eyes to see better, the four men were standing around the fire, which was the only source of light, a part form the headlights of the two vehicles. 'India, status?', asked the captain again. 'They're not moving, they're talking…' she replied 'I see one person inside the pick-up on your right, Bravo team, on the drivers side.' 'Copy that', it was Simon who spoke. He nearly tripped on a branch he din't see. He didn't see it because it was fucking pitch black outside. Now that they were closer to the crater's centre, he could see the fire and the trucks, their engines were on. Staying low, ready to fire his gun, he kept moving. 'India, status?' 'They haven't noticed anything. No one else has left the tents… I think they have two bikes…'

'You think?!' Shit.

'No sir, I'm sure', get your shit together Alba, 'they're covered by a blanket, they're definitely motorbikes. Behind the tent with the snake print, west side.'

It all went to shit extremely fast. He would later learn it went to shit because some dickhead from Alpha team slipped on wet grass and made noise and one of the soldiers heard him. Un-fucking-believable. They approached the truck and hid behind it, ready to take down the driver. It would take Simon a bit of knife work to do it silently. What they heard next sent chills down their spines. 'Alpha team, you got one coming towards you, he heard something.' Jude's words were sharp. They had been compromised. Shots were fired before he could give any orders to his men. Jude started seeing the body cams images getting confused and erratic, they were running and covering the camera with their rifles. Simon realised he had to move when he heard screams in a different language. He quickly took down the driver, preparing to attack. The Alpha team didn't have any coverage, they were far and exposed, still at the side of the crater. 'Use the tents as coverage, Khorram's inside they're not gonna shoot!' He heard Jude's voice over the noise. Preoccupied and scared. Told you this wasn't the place for you sweet angel… He was able to shoot one of the four men around the fire, but things were moving at a faster pace then they'd imagined. 'Bravo team, the tent to your right, something's going on inside', Jude alerted them. 'Ghost cover me!' He turned around to see Johnny peek around his corner, he wanted to go check the tent. Simon quickly did what he asked. He could see the Alpha team peeking out from the side of the tents, they wouldn't last long for sure, they were extremely close to the bonfire.

'Jude do you see him?'

'Alpha 0-3 is down!'

'I see him!' Simon got out of his precious hiding spot right the second Jude spoke. He disarmed one of the remaining men, using his knife to finish the job. Glancing to his left he spotted his teammate on the ground, saw Gaz running towards them. 'Go, I'll take him!' He turned away, 'Jude where to?' he asked. He could see his surroundings better now that the bonfire was close. He didn't wait for the girl to answer him, cause Johnny appeared from inside the tent. He heard an engine start. No… 'The bikes, three of them heading south-west.' They wasted no time, but the bikes were already climbing up the mountain.

You see, they did get him in the end. Rabbit took one of the trucks and provided coverage to the others, he basically run over half the camp. Price was the one who shot Khorram in the shoulder. Two other men died, one was captured. Alpha 0-3, his name was Thomas, he made it alive. They got out of the crater and back to the cars. Jude's voice was in their ears. 'All stations, I see a sandstorm approaching your position, you should hurry up' and 'Positive ID on the target' or 'You got troops approaching from north-east'. They weren't the only ones listening to her. When Thomas was shot in the crater his headphones basically flew away when his head hit the ground. Gaz didn't even bother taking them, he just got his friend on his shoulders to carry him away… Two men were in the crater not even ten minutes after they had left. They saw the fire, the blood. They saw the devastation the truck left and the motorbikes scattered on the ground. Most importantly, they saw the headphones. One of them put them close to his ear, to see if he could hear a conversation. And he could. 'Bravo 0-1, this is Alpha 0-2, we're right behind you, out.'

'Alpha 0-2, status on Alpha 0-3, over.'

'Bravo 0-1, stable condition. India 0-1, word from the aircraft?'

'This is India 0-1 to all stations, you're clear to go.'

The man with the headset turned his head to look at the other. That voice. He recognised her. She spoke again, he couldn't believe his ears. She spoke one last time, he felt rage. Then someone, Bravo 0-1, called her by her name. Four damned letters, a death sentence. You shouldn't have said that, brother…

I know who Jude is.

notes: shit.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[steelbluehome]

Trigger Warning: American Politics

Why is anyone voting for Dr. Jill Stein of the Green Party?

The New Republic

"In fact, no Green Party candidate has ever won federal office. And Stein’s reign has been a period of indisputable decline, during which time the party’s membership—which peaked in 2004 at 319,000 registered members—has fallen to 234,000 today."

Slate

"Mohamed Almawri ...decided to become part of a bloc of Arab voters and cast a “conscience vote” in Michigan. For him, that means voting for Jill Stein.

“We’re going to make history as the Muslim community standing against a U.S.–funded genocide,” Almawri told me. “We’re holding this administration accountable,” ...“The value of defeating the Democratic Party makes Trump a price we’re willing to pay,” he said"

New York Times

"“We are not in a position to win the White House,” another speaker, Kshama Sawant, a former member of the Seattle City Council, told a crowd of about 100 inside an Arab American cultural center. “But we do have a real opportunity to win something historic. We could deny Kamala Harris the state of Michigan.” ...“I like her very much,” Mr. Trump said of Ms. Stein at a rally in June. “You know why? She takes 100 percent from them.” ...figures with ties to Mr. Trump and Republicans who have worked to help Ms. Stein secure ballot access.

In Wisconsin, a lawyer who was previously involved in lawsuits seeking to overturn the 2020 election results represented the Green Party. In New Hampshire, a veteran Republican operative submitted signatures for Ms. Stein.

Jay Sekulow, who defended Mr. Trump at his first impeachment trial, has worked on behalf of the Green Party in Nevada, a rare battleground where Democrats have successfully thwarted her.

“We have never knowingly received help from Republicans,” Ms. Stein said, a claim that Democrats find ludicrous. “Now, they might have done this once or twice, having kind of snuck in under the radar.”"

U.S. News and World Report

"Stein is ...targeting voters like me – progressives, and especially Arab Americans. In the battleground state of Michigan, there are at least 206,000 registered Muslim voters ...Stein recently asserted that “under Democrats, the anti-war movement goes to sleep.” On the contrary, the anti-war movement – led by progressive organizations like ours, Common Defense – successfully pressured President Joe Biden and the Democratic establishment to end the forever war in Afghanistan; advocated for Congress to reassert its War Powers Resolution authority; and has called for a cease-fire since the war began in Gaza last year. What has Stein achieved for the anti-war cause? Nothing.

Trump has never engaged with progressives or Muslim Americans, and that won’t change if he’s elected again. When he first campaigned in 2015, he called for a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States.” When he became president, he signed an executive order banning people from six Muslim-majority countries from entering the U.S., blocking desperate families of refugees seeking asylum from wars and repressive governments in the Middle East and North Africa. At home, he boosted distrust and hate of Muslim Americans, repeating false claims that “thousands and thousands” of Arab Americans in New Jersey cheered on 9/11 as the twin towers came down.""

USA Today

""All you do is show up once every four years to speak to people who are justifiably pissed off, but you're just showing up once every four years to do that, you're not serious," AOC said. "To me, it does not read as authentic. It reads as predatory." ...The Green Party selected Stein as its presidential nominee in 2012, 2016, and 2024, ...Stein also ran unsuccessful third-party campaigns to become Massachusetts's governor in 2002 and 2010."

[renytherat]

Exhaustion

Member: Bang Chan x gn!reader (if i made mistakes pls let me know)

Word Count: 5128

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slight angst

Warnings: swearing, breakdown, crying, mentions of overbearing parents, lack of sleep, talk of mental (and other) health, loss of appetite, mentions of food. (again if I missed smth pls let me know)

A/N: pls dear god i have not written anything in forever this was reread so many times but if there are mistakes, you didn't see them <3. no I am not out of my writers block but I challenged myself in the last few months to work on it just a lil at a time and I finally finished it. enjoy!! :)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

You knock quietly on the door to the studio. No answer, but that’s expected. Chan is usually hard at work with the music turned up quite loud in his favorite pair of headphones. Not wanting to disturb his flow, you open the door and step inside. As if he has some sort of radar for you, Chan turns around. Upon seeing you, he smiles, the bright expression raising his eyebrows and cheeks, dimples deepening. You can’t help but return the smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes like it did his; he notices this almost immediately. You sit on the couch at the back of the room. Chan turns back around to his computer to pause and minimise the file he was working on before returning his attention to you.

“Hey, what’s up?” His voice is calm and exactly what you needed.

“Hey. Nothing really, just missed you.” You give him a teasing wink while lying through your teeth. He already worries too much as it is, telling him this would send him reeling.

He glances at the ground, a tell you’ve noticed when you know he wants to push the conversation, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

He settles with, “Are you sure? Exams are coming up; I know you’re stressed about those, but you’ll do fine. You always do.”

“Heh, yeah finals are definitely gonna kick my ass, but really, I’m fine. Just need to relax is all.” You grin at him from across the room hoping the glimmer in your eyes is taken as exhaustion rather than trying to hold back tears.

He nods, swinging his chair back and forth a little with his feet planted on the floor, eyes never leaving yours. “Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

He makes it really hard to not cry when he looks at you like that. There’s no judgment in his eyes as he starts to roll his chair toward the couch you’re sitting on. He stops when he’s right in front of you, hands reaching towards yours as they fidget in your lap ever restless. He starts massaging them, sandwiching them in his own as he forces your fists flat. He rubs them together and then separates them, taking a hand in each of his own palms up. He rubs his thumb in the center of each palm for a few seconds before moving to your thumbs’ bases and then the opposite side of the palms. Another few seconds and he drops one hand, using both of his own to pull your fingers one by one just gently enough to release pressure in your joints. Again with the other hand and then he grabs both again.

He sits there holding your hands and looking at you like nothing else in the world matters at the moment. His thumbs caress the back of your hands this time, not a massage, but just a constant feeling. A reassuring touch that has you sniffling.

In just moments he has you bundled in his arms as tears stream down your face. He pulls you onto his lap, shutting down any protests with soft hushes. He whispers encouraging words, random nothings, and that he’s always here for you as he runs his hand up and down your back, squeezing your arm occasionally. ‘It’s okay to cry.’ ‘Let it all out.’ ‘It’s just me and you in here.’ ‘You’re going to be okay.’

You don’t know how much time passes until you finally calm down, the hiccups subsiding and the shaking turning from tremors to shivers. His voice is barely a whisper you have to strain your ears to hear. The last tears soak into his sweatshirt like the rest of them. Your grip loosens as well, all strength leaving your body.

He rocks his chair back and forth again like he’s cradling a baby to sleep. The soothing motion almost gets you, but you sit up. He tightens his grip on you, scared you’ll fall from the abrupt movement. His eyes are wide as he looks at you.

“You good?” His voice is small like you’re a wild animal and he doesn’t want to scare you off by being too loud.

You clear your throat prepared for it to crack when you open your mouth, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you like this. I just needed somewhere to go to let it out, but I didn't know where else to go and I thought you were going to continue working, not look at me like I’m a frail baby bird who just fell out of a tree and I couldn’t stop the flood. I was just going to cry silently and look and pictures of squirrels and shit.”

The side of his mouth quirks down in silent disappointment. He says your name so softly, it almost has you bawling again, “I’m always worried about you. And I just get more worried when I don’t know what’s going on. You’re my best friend and I want to do what I can to help. Letting you cry on my shoulder, soaking up my sweatshirt, is one way. Listening to you rub snot into it is another, but for you, I’d bear it.”

You snort and wipe your nose with the back of your hand, now self-conscious about its running. The jab made you feel better, but only a little. Chan is good at that. Getting your mood to change like the snap of his fingers.

He holds on to your legs over his lap as he slides his chair backward rolling towards the desk. He plucks some tissues out of the tiny box next to his keyboard and hands you a few.

“Thanks,” you rasp out, “Sorry about your sweatshirt.”

“Hey, I’ve got like a million of them. No worries.” He watches as you blow your nose, a feat you think would have anyone else grossing out over. “Speaking of my sweatshirts, is that one mine?” He grabs the fabric of the sweatshirt you’re currently wearing near your stomach and rubs it between his fingers.

You look down upon the realization and sheepishly make eye contact, “No..?”

“Liar.” He tsks, no bite behind it.

A comfortable silence settles upon you as you finish cleaning your nose and wiping your face free of tears. He throws the tissues out when you’re done with them, shooting them like basketballs into a hoop that is the tin can on the other side of the room. He misses two.

“I’ll get them when we leave.” He wraps his arms around your waist, clasping his hands together, and leans his head on the back of his chair, “Takeout?”

“Yes please.”

“Chinese, tacos, burgers,-” He starts listing fast food options as he goes to grab his phone.

You interrupt already making up your mind, “Tacos.”

His mouth quirks up. “Tacos it is.” He orders quickly adding in an extra few tacos in case you’re hungrier than you thought. When the food is ordered he puts his phone face down on the desk again, “It’ll be here in 23 minutes. 27 if they don’t find the room number immediately.”

“Thank you, Channie.”

“Anytime, hun.” He pulls you in closer again, your head falling on his shoulder. Seconds tick by before you feel him take a breath and clear his throat. You can tell he needs to know what’s going on because if he doesn’t find out, it’ll bug him forever.

Before he can pose a question, you steel yourself and answer, “Nothing is going right anymore. My grades have been slipping for a few weeks, my parents are on my ass about it, work has been draining and a constant petri dish for stress, not to mention I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks because we’ve both been busy. I’m falling apart at the seams and it seems like no one is noticing. Not that I’ve been readily telling everyone the truth when they ask how I’m doing, but I just want someone to realise how badly I’m lying. Every time I say I’m tired, I’m exhausted; running on three hours of sleep. Every time I say I just need a vacation day, I really need an entire year off to recuperate. I’m sick of this constant barrage on my mental health, my physical health, even my emotional health. And the cherry on top? My only love interest said he still had feelings for his ex, so he broke off our weird talking stage thing, whatever it was we had, to try again with them. The universe hates me, Channie.” You play with your hoodie strings as you rattle off your list of problems.

You let him ponder your words. “That’s a lot. I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy as well, but even so, I always have time for you, you know that right? I don’t care if I have a project due at midnight, I’d drop it to make you feel better. I know you said you don’t want to worry me, but like I said, I always worry anyways. As for your grades, you’ll get them up, I believe in you. Your parents, as lovely as they are in front of guests can be assholes behind the scenes. Just ignore the messages that make you feel bad. Just because they’re your parents doesn’t mean they deserve your attention or success, You deserve better than a magnifying glass on your back. And screw whoever that guy is, he wasn’t good enough for you anyways.”

“Chan, he’s not a bad guy. It was just-”

“Nope. I don’t care. Guy can go step on a rake.”

You shake your head at his childish antics. “Okay fine, maybe I’d like to see that, but that doesn’t mean he deserves it. He really is a good guy. In fact, I think you know him. Who am I kidding, you know everyone? You know Jaehyun? Business major, great hair, dimples? He’s friends with that Taeyong guy that’s in the same dance class as Minho.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do know him. I didn’t know you were talking to him?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I was. He was cute, but he’s really set on becoming this big CEO at a really young age. Like, before he actually graduates somehow. He’s not really a fun person to talk to unless he’s tipsy. And I’d rather not live my entire life talking to someone I’d only like when drunk because that’s a problem in itself.”

Chan hums in agreement. Something akin to an awkward silence fills the room. It’s an odd experience you’ve never felt around Chan until now. In all your years of friendship, never once has it been uncomfortable. The silence doesn’t last long as a knock brings you both back to the present.

“Food’s here.” He rolls to the door, you still sitting securely on his lap.

Upon opening the door, a surprised noise escapes all three parties. Taeyong stands there with the taco bags in hand. The initial shock wears off as he realises he’s here to do his job and not gawk at what is quite a surprising scene to him. He hands Chan the bags who sets them on his lap which is actually your lap because you’re still sitting there from your breakdown. Chan, only aware of the fact that one of the subjects you were just talking about is now standing at his studio door, is completely oblivious to the compromising position you’ve been put in.

You and Taeyong share a knowing, but awkward look while Chan greets him, “Hey, Lee Taeyong right?”

“Yep. That’s me. You're Bang Chan. I know ‘cuz Minho complains about you a lot after class.” He turns to look at you, “Hey, y/n.”

“Hey.”

A beat passes as Taeyong stands in the doorway. “Listen, I know it’s kinda awkward about what went down with Jae and you, but I wanted to let you know, that I still think you’re pretty cool and if we could be friends, that’d be cool too. And I’m also happy for you.”

“Happy for me? For having a guy break it off because he’s still in love with his ex?”

“Well not that part, but you bounced back pretty well. You and Chan look cute together by the way. We’ve all been wondering when that was gonna happen and I guess it took Jae to make it happen, huh? Anyways, gotta go! Bye!” Before either of you could respond to that, he bounds off to make his next delivery.

Chan gently shuts the door as Taeyong’s words flow through your minds, the vibrations and image seeming to sear themselves in your brains.

He rolls back to the desk inch by inch, but before he gets there, you spring up, taco bags in hand. It snaps him out of shock and he puts his hands out to either side of you in case he needs to stabilise you or catch the food.

“He thinks we’re dating,” Is all you say. No other way to segue into the conversation but that. “Why does he think we’re dating? I mean I know I was sitting on your lap, but he said, ‘we’ve all been wondering when that was gonna happen.’” You place the bags on the small coffee table and start pacing, “What does that mean? Does everyone think we’re dating? Does it look like we’re dating? Is that the real reason Jae broke it off? What if there is no ex? I’ve never actually seen him around with anyone, what if it was just a lie because he thought we had something going on? What if every time I’ve ever had a love interest they backed off because of you.” You point a wagging finger at him. “Every crush in high school, even middle school! What if they’ve always thought we were together.” You throw your hands up, “Chan, say something!” Unknowing of the turmoil you’re putting him through, Chan just shrugs. Unable to answer any of your questions.

He may have very well been at fault for all those potential partners backing off. It’s not like he said anything to them, but maybe he was just a bit obvious with the way he acts around you. Maybe not you because this information seems to be new to you. He thought you knew people suspected you were together. From an outsider’s view (and he’s had many tell him their point of view. See: Changbin, Jisung, Minho, etc.), it’s difficult to know the truth based on what they see.

You’re always joined at the hip, his arm around your waist or shoulder, your arms around his neck in a tight embrace, holding hands when it’s cold. It’s hard to differentiate flirting with teasing from a decade-old friendship. And not to mention he is in love with you.

“I thought you knew.” Is all he says.

You stop pacing back and forth and look at him, “What? You thought I knew what? That people seriously think we’re together? Chan, we’re just best friends.”

He flinches. He knows you didn’t mean to say it as a rejection, but it still hurts hearing it. He hates saying it himself.

“Baby, is it really that big of a deal? We’re close. It happens.” The nickname slips out.

“THAT! See that’s why people think we’re dating. Because we act like it! We hold hands, you kiss my cheek, you call me baby and hun and sweetie.” You tick each reason off on your fingers. “No one believes me when I say we aren’t. I have to tell everyone! I can’t have my future partners thinking I’m dating my best friend. I’ll get nowhere with them and then they’ll think I’m trying to cheat on you with them.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want space? So people don’t see us together. If they don’t believe we were never together, we’ll have to act like we broke up.” He can’t believe what he’s saying.

“No, I want you to be next to me when I tell people so you can back me up. This rumor has probably spilled into the next city over. I’ll tell Bin and Sung to spread it as well. If anyone asks them, I’ll have them say, ‘No they aren’t dating. Never have been. If you don’t believe me, I have orders to call them and confirm.’ Does that sound good? We can nip it in the bud faster if we cover more ground.”

He tries not to sound like a kicked puppy when he says, “Yeah, sure okay.” He turns his chair around to grab napkins and plastic plates from under his desk. He stashed them there because of all the late nights he and the rest of 3Racha have had there. He rolls to the coffee table and starts pulling the food out of the bag as you plop on the couch to begin eating.

When you’re close to finishing up, Chan wipes his face and hands with his napkin.

“Done already? You usually eat a lot more than that.” He only had three tacos, same as you.

“Yeah, don’t really have an appetite right now.” He spins his chair around and boots up his computer, “I’m gonna work a little more on my project, feel free to stay if you want. Or leave, it’s kinda late already.”

You stare at the back of his head. Ever since Taeyong left, he’s been really quiet. You ate in total silence. Usually, it’s more filled with laughter and short stories about stupid things your friends did. You glance at the clock, it’s only 9:00 pm. The studio closes at 10:00.

Maybe you overreacted about the dating news. Maybe it really isn’t that big of a deal. You like your dynamic with Chan. It’s calm, comfortable. You don’t think you could live without him by your side. The small pecks he leaves on the top of your head ground you sometimes, and he’s always a human heater in the cold, you don’t want to have to give up holding his hands. The nicknames do funky things to your brain, but you like them. It means he’s comfortable around you too. And even if you’re not dating, you know you both care so much about the other. Over ten years of friendship will do that to people.

You can see why your classmates and random people on the street would think you were in love. You also haven’t been able to prove it, but you swear you’ve caught him staring at you with a certain look countless times. You’ve tried to get your friends to see for you, but they say he’s looking at you like he always does, there’s nothing odd about it.

Still, going around making sure everyone knows you aren’t dating is the best option in your mind. It’ll help you set reality apart from your deepest desires.

You’ve been in love with Chan for as long as you can remember. Years of pining after him have created a sore spot in your heart. To hear that people think this about you when it’s all you’ve ever wanted, knowing it’ll never come true is like tearing the scab off just to have it bleed more.

You start packing up the food you didn’t eat and throw away the garbage in silence. Awkwardness once again festering in the air. When you’re done cleaning up you lay on the couch taking out your phone. You don’t know when you fell asleep but when you wake up, there’s a blanket on top of you, one from the stash he keeps under the couch. Even if he’s busy he finds some way to take care of you. Some way to make your heart flutter. It aches.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, rolling to the side. You can see the silhouette of his head over his chair, the lights turned off in the studio save for the bright computer screen. His headphones fit snuggly over his ears, blocking out any sounds.

You think about what happened tonight. Your breakdown, him holding you, seeing your not-quite-ex’s friend, your outburst. And his reaction. You recall his flinch when you said you were just friends. He flinched for god’s sake. And he looked completely torn in two for the next half hour before going back to his project.

So you definitely overreacted. In trying so hard to draw the line between what you have and what you want, you created a barrier between you and the person you care about the most. You stated what you thought should happen to keep the line to protect yourself not taking in Chan’s opinion or anything. This rumor involves you both, the decision on what to do about it probably should too.

Standing up, you pull the blanket around your shoulders like a cape and walk to stand behind him just to watch him work. His fingers slide over the keyboard with practiced ease, his right hand flitting between it and the mouse. You see the time in the bottom right-hand corner: 9:38pm. When you bend to place your hands on your knees, you hear his breath catch next to you. You glance at his face, catching his eyes on you. You hold the eye contact.

“Are you okay?” It’s a whisper. One you know he can’t hear. His eyes jump to your lips and you repeat yourself, “Are you okay?”

He takes a breath, nods, and turns right back to his project.

You huff, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. So much for a plan, right? You turn to go back to the couch, but an arm stops you. You look down at the hand resting on your elbow and then at Chan. His gaze is directed at his knees. You turn to him waiting, his hand falling to your hip.

He licks his lips, you see his adam’s apple bob, his jaw clench. His hand that isn’t stopping you from leaving rubs his face for a second before resting on his chin, knuckles on his lower lip.

“Channie?” You can tell he heard you even with his headphones on when he squeezes your side. He slips his headphones off and rolls a little bit away from the desk still gripping your side like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He starts.

“No, Channie, you have nothing to be sorry about. It’s all me. I think I overreacted over Taeyong’s words and that hurt you. I wasn’t thinking about your point of view. I mean truthfully I wasn’t even thinking about my own point of view. I just…” You sigh. 

The next few words you say, you’ll have to think carefully. If you confess to your true feelings it may scare him off or worse, disgust him. But this is Chan you’re talking to. Your best friend in the whole world, the most precious person on earth to you. There’s no way he’d hate you, right? Maybe let you down slowly, but he wouldn’t ask you to never speak to or see him again. He couldn’t possibly be that cruel.

He takes your hands in his. You had started wringing them and twisting your fingers in what looks like uncomfortable angles. “Just what?” He asks. His eyes are on you now, completely focused on you and what you’re trying to get yourself to say. They’re soft and open. He’s quietly telling you it’s okay to be vulnerable around him. He’ll always be here for you and there’s nothing to be scared about.

That’s all you needed. “I just don’t know how to go about pretending not to know that everyone we know thinks we’re dating when we’re not and it’s all I’ve ever wanted for a while now.” Your eyes start to wander around the room. If you look at him now, you’ll never be able to finish. “I mean I don’t know when I started to see you differently, it may have been forever, but we’ve always been best friends. 

“I didn’t think the way I loved you was anything other than that until I started talking to Jaehyun. And after we stopped I just had some time to really think about what I wanted and… Channie I want you. But I know I can’t have you because we are just best friends and you’ll never see me that way. Not in a million years and that just tore my heart. 

“So I guess I was trying to separate reality from fantasy when I started spewing on about how we have to make sure everyone knows we aren’t together because if anyone can think there’s something between us, it’s gonna be me. And I should’ve taken your opinion into count when I started planning on how to tell people. I was just scared. I’m really, so sorry, Channie. Please forgive me.”

After your monologue, you finally look at him. There’s shock, amusement, maybe even some sadness, and something else you can’t quite place on his face. The mixed emotions are jumbled together as he just stares at you. He opens his mouth to form words, but closes it again. You left him utterly speechless. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, you don’t know. You won’t know unless he says something. Anything.

“Channie?” You start to worry your lip. It’s already raw, showing how much stress you’ve been under for quite some time. The fact that you just confessed to your best friend is only adding to the situation.

Before you can think to run away or try changing the subject, his lip twitches. And then a smile grows, larger, wider until you feel his face might split from the intensity of his grin. He still can’t form words, but he tugs on your arm just a bit, pulling you down onto his familiar lap.

Your faces are close, close enough to see the slight blush bloom across his soft features worn my exhaustion. Finally, he speaks, “I cannot explain how utterly happy I am to hear you say any of that. I may have also overreacted to your reaction and for that, I still apologise, but knowing what I know now I think my reaction was completely normal for having someone you love tell you so vehemently that you’re just best friends. To hear that and think that’s all you’ll ever be when you’ve wanted more for so long. To think that there wasn’t even a possibility of more.

But there is. We were both just terrified.”

Now it’s your turn to be gobsmacked. Your jaw hits the floor and he starts giggling. Whether it’s because you look hilariously cute shell-shocked, or because he’s filled with euphoria he doesn’t know.

“Someone you what?” Your eyes flit back and forth searching for an answer in his shining eyes.

It’s written so clearly you’re surprised you hadn’t seen it before. “Love. Someone I love, y/n.”

“How long?”

“Years. Possibly since I met you.”

“Channie we were children. Diapers and binkies while our moms had tea and talked shit about our neighbors.”

He smirks, “Then, yeah, definitely since we met. But I only realised it a few years ago; in highschool. It was that super cliche teenage rom-com scene when you walked into prom looking like a fairytale and I thought I shit myself and then imploded.” He shoves his hands together imitating a can being crushed.

Your hands fly to your hair, carding through it. “Holy fuck. Holy cow. I can’t believe it. You let me date the worst people when I could’ve been dating you, you bastard!”

“Hey! Like we’ve established I was fucking terrified of losing my best friend, okay? And you were too! Also, all those people were solely your choice, I did nothing but try to befriend them for you.” He grabs your finger that jabbed at his chest and turns it back toward you.

“You should’ve punched them in the face and whisked me away.” Slipping the rest of your fingers into his grasp, you clasp his hand and squeeze.

He squeezes right back.

Cocking your head to the side, you sigh. “Now what? We’re here now. Both in the know, mutually agreeing.”

“Now? Now we tell Hannie he owes Binnie $20 because you confessed first.”

You furrow your brow, “They bet on us? Actually, you know what, that is entirely unsurprising. But no, I mean what’s next? What are we?”

He smiles that same smile you fell in love with all that time ago, dimples and all. “We’re Channie and y/n as we’ve always been. Best friends who love each other; who would go to the ends of the earth for one another. We cuddle, hold hands, call each other pet names, and now we go on dates. Kiss? More?” He blushes again, the tips of his ears redder than a tomato.

You take his flushed face into your hands feeling the heat roll off them. Whispering, you lean in closer, “I like the idea of that. But not right now. You’re exhausted and we need sleep. We should probably get out of here soon to make that happen.”

He pouts.

“Oh, stop that. If we’re quick enough we can probably catch the bus back to my place. Then we can kiss as much as you want.”

He exaggerates his pout even more looking like a kicked puppy.

You can’t help but fawn over him silently. Rolling your eyes playfully, you swoop in and peck him on the lips. It’s short, not even a second long, but it has him chasing for more when you pull away. You’re tempted to give him what he wants now, but it’s been a long day and you’d rather not have your first real kiss in a public recording room that smells like tacos and feet. You tell him as much when you stand up and start gathering your items to leave.

He acquiesces, saving his project and logging out. When you’re both ready to leave, he snatches up your hand and kisses the back of it as you walk out of the room.

The bus ride seems longer than usual or you’re just anxious to get back home. Chan has stayed over plenty of times, cuddling all throughout the night, but this time it’s different. Tomorrow promises new adventures with the man beside you and you can’t wait to start them.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Bonus:

“I promise it’s not just the exhaustion talking, but you look absolutely radiant right now.”

“Baby, I’m wearing elf-on-the-shelf pjs with a toy story t-shirt that I’ve had since I was 10.”

“As I said, radiant.”

“Love you too, Channie.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[greensword101]

Connor Adopted AU

Okay, this idea came to me a few weeks ago with a little idea for a one shot that has now developed into a large idea.

So, we all know what happens in "Sleep Tight" in Angel, Season 3, right? Wesley decides to not tell anyone about the prophesy involving Angel potentially committing filicide and tries to kidnap Connor for his safety. What happens as consequence is Connor getting kidnapped by Holtz, growing up in the worst hell dimension possible, and Connor returning as a teen and ultimately becoming (in my opinion) the most tragic character in the Buffyverse.

Instead of doing the good old fashioned Poor Communication Kills route here, Wesley decides that Angel has a right to know about the dreaded last line: The Father Will Kill The Son.

Angel...does not handle it well. He insists that Wesley could have mistranslated, is pulling a prank, that he was reading the wrong scroll. In the end, he is forced to accept that it is true. Connor is just a baby. He has only begun to taste life and there are so many things Angel had wanted to do, so many steps he was eagerly looking forward to.

All of it gone in an instant.

"Not quite," Wesley says with a determined light. Angel is despairing that his son will die by his hand. But Wesley has already decided that it will not happen. You don't get half a miracle.

The biggest threats to the baby's safety are Holtz, Wolfram and Hart, and all of the cults obsessed with 'The Miracle Child.' They have to take priority.

"And Connor?" Angel dreads the answer.

Wesley looks close to crying. "We can't keep him..."

No one is happy with this decision. No one. But no one is happy with Connor dying, either, and so they begin making plans to find a home for him. Wesley and Cordelia work on creating a new identity for the baby and finding a foster family. Fred buries her grief in packing up what the baby is going to take to his new forever home. Gunn and Angel channel their rage and own despair into hunting down every last threat to their son/nephew. Lorne is working with the Furies on getting the best protective spells available to hide Connor from enemies and hide him under the radar.

Holtz realizes that he can't move forward with his revenge plan as word of Angel's rampage spreads throughout the underworld. His followers slowly abandon him as their fear for their lives overpowers their lust for blood. Even Justine leaves him, seeing it as a lost cause and there's nothing to be gained from fighting a losing battle.

A family is found, Cordelia fills them in on only what is essential: the baby is in an unsafe environment, the baby's father wants him put into a safe and loving home. Lawrence and Colleen Reilly already have a daughter that is ten years old, and they're too old to try passing the kid off as their own. But all it takes is one picture of little Connor for them to fall in love instantly.

And so, the day the Fang Gang had been expecting and dreading arrives. Angel kisses his son on the forehead one last time before disappearing into the night, unable to bear watching his son be taken away.

"Sleep tight, son. Daddy will always love you..."

Cordelia makes the journey to the Reilly's home with Wesley acting as the decoy in case Wolfram and Hart try anything. She's holding back tears as she hands Connor off to his new family, wishing them well while Lorne is in the car finishing the last of the spellwork to protect Connor and the Reillys. Wesley gets his throat slit when one of Lilah's security team thinks he has the baby. She's furious at being made a fool, but still ensures that Wesley is taken to the hospital because s̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶o̶f̶t̶ ̶s̶p̶o̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ she wants to send a message to Angel.

Angel is the first to see Wesley in his hospital bed, unable to speak and unable to move from his spot. He awaits judgement several feet away.

Angel is quiet. "Did you really think I had it in me to kill Connor?"

Wesley looks at him hard, silently saying You could have become Angelus.

Angel nods. "Do you think I'm Angelus now?"

Wesley doesn't blink.

"Well, I'm not. You believe me, don't you?"

Slowly, Wesley nods.

"Good." Angel stands up and moves to the bed. His hand reaches for the pillow underneath Wesley's head...and gently fluffs it. Then, Angel readjusts his chair so it is right next to Wesley's bed.

"I'm staying here all night whether you want me to or not. That's the least I can do for you."

Wesley reaches out to Angel's hand and squeezes it tight. Gunn is waiting outside with Fred, who is sobbing into her coffee. Every last trace of Connor is out of the hotel, as if he were never there. They stay there the entire night, later joined by Cordelia and Lorne a few hours later.

While one family mourns the loss of one child, another family welcomes the introduction of another into their home. Connor Francis Reilly kept only several things from his old home: his name (including his middle name), a few teddy bears and a duck-printed blanket. Thanks to the efforts of the Furies and Lorne, no supernatural forces come near him. He grows up understanding that he was adopted, that Lawrence and Colleen are not his biological parents...and not thinking any less of them.

Of course, he wants to find his bio family. But only out of curiosity. His mom and dad (his parents) only told him that his mother (or who they think is his mom) worked hard to find a good home for him. He doesn't feel abandoned. He doesn't have any traumatic experiences (other than the one time he got lost in the store when he was five). Connor grows up relatively normal.

He watches Charmed with his big sister when he's a toddler (and connecting with the fourth sister, Paige, cause she was adopted too and loved her parents too), goes camping with his friends, is drawn to a lot of fantasy books like the Anna Rice novels. Mainly the ones that have vampires, for some reason. But never Stephanie Meyers, though. He gives up before he gets halfway through the first chapter in that series. That Bella girl is such an ungrateful brat!

His family goes out camping a lot, which was something Connor loved! He could almost imagine living off in the wild like Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe. Larence laughed at this and said. "You might just become the local menace in the woods."

He also loves to dance. Connor doesn't realize that he is just as artistic as his father and mother (well, Darla could sing well, and Angelus saw murder as an art form, but that's another story). It's mainly because he used to do boxing until he was 8 and punched a bag so hard that sand spilled out.

So, his dad suggested dancing instead. He could be like Billy Elliot and the chances of him punching someone's head clean off their shoulders would drastically decrease. Plus, dancing was fun! He didn't have to wear a tutu (thank God, his sister would never have let him live it down), and his instructors were amazed at how effortlessly he moved on the stage.

That's also how he met his future boyfriend (he's bi, his parents accepted that when he came out), Marcus. Marcus is on the football team and loves watching his boyfriend dance. He can't get over how graceful he is, it's almost inhuman.

Connor Reilly has an amazing life, and he can't think of how it could get any better than that.

About two weeks after he thinks this, the protection spells that were cast to protect him from the supernatural realm and hide him from enemies finally breaks. Connor gets hit by a car and crashes into the garage of his family's home without a scratch on him. His parents, now well into their fifties, get an anonymous tip that they might find answers with a certain investigations company.

They trekked to L.A. and get accosted by a vampire cult. Connor is too stunned to do anything as they pull him away from his parents, screaming their heads off in terror as their only son is ripped away.

Vampires are real. He thinks over and over again as he's dragged underground into what he suspects is connected to the sewers. Vampires are real and I'm going to die.

He's stripped naked save for a loincloth. The man (or vampire) that he suspects in their leader looks euphoric as he looks Connor over in his cell.

"At long last, the Miracle Child is among us once more."

Connor doesn't understand how he could be a miracle. Well, other than how it was a miracle that he wasn't killed by that car. And the other stuff in his life that he is conveniently ignoring for the sake of his own sanity.

"You shall be freed from this human prison and be worshipped among your kind."

Connor doesn't like the way the creep looks close to kissing him just then. He's a minor and already has a boyfriend, thank you very much!

Too soon, he's dragged out and tied to an alter where the Head Creep suddenly changes his face and bares his sharp teeth. Connor tries fighting, but the bindings are too strong and he's frozen with fear.

And then the Head Creep is dust. Literal dust. One of the other creeps is behind him wearing that same Scary Face, but for some reason, Connor isn't afraid of that one. The sword in his (savior?)'s hand shines in the torchlight and slash at the bindings. Before Connor can react, he's swaddled in the robe the Scary-But-Not-Scary Guy was wearing and witnesses all of the other vampires being hacked and staked until there's no one left but him and the other guy.

Then, the face goes back to normal and Connor finds it funny that the guy looks like he's brooding. Well, he would if he weren't half naked and still possibly awaiting death by fanage. Suddenly, a bundle is tossed his way and Connor realizes that it's his own clothes. His savior has the decency to look away while Connor changes, which pushes him further up the Guess You're Not Really A Bad Guy bar in Connor's book.

"Are you hurt?" His savior asks.

"No." Connor says honestly. Then, he realizes that there's a scratch on his cheek (probably from when the sword was cutting off the rope).

For some reason, this seems to get his savior upset. "Oh God, Connor, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking! I wasn't trying to hurt you and" -

Connor cuts him off before he continues to ramble. "How did you know my name?!"

Then, he sees the guy's face. It looks so much like his own, except...broodier and his hair is short. Connor lost his hair band keeping his man bun in check and he has to brush away the bangs going over his eyes.

Connor then realizes that he's meeting his biological father for the first time ever.

[lunariamv]

jealous girl ♡♡♡ gojo satoru x yan fem reader; obsessive + possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, death, murder lana vibes :0

How long have you liked Gojo Satoru? Ummm... since forever, maybe?

Truth is, you've been an admirer of the handsome white haired man ever since you first spotted him back in high school. Girls would always fawn over the various good-looking guys in Jujutsu High, but your crush never wavered once.

There was something about Gojo that set your heart on fire. He was just so handsome and strong... imagine if he was yours. You'd always be by his side, and vow to make him happy for as long as you lived. If only it were true. Too many times did you fantasize about him being your boyfriend, or husband, so many instances that you started believing the two of you were made for each other.

Despite these intense feelings of yours, he barely knew you existed, to your dismay. Almost never did he glance in your direction, as sad as that is. Chances are he might know you're one of his classmates, but that's about it. For the most part, you didn't really stand out. Compared to other students, you faded into the background. Overshadowed by the outgoing, eccentric students, your shy meek personality made you a nobody. Almost all of your other classmates haven't heard of you either.

The feeling was melancholic, to be so alone. You'd be living a lie if you said it didn't bother you. Once you got home, you'd break down crying. The clarity of your loneliness, and the lack of bonds you failed to make. All you wanted was for a single person to care. To have a person finally see you. You wanted to fall in love, just like everyone else. All you desired was for someone to devote yourself to, and for them to be devoted in return.

Just when you were about to give up, you stopped yourself. The idea came to your mind. There's no need to give up. If your place in the world was off... all you had to do was change.

And so, as high school went on, you'd do your best to improve yourself. Working out to grow stronger and fit, perfecting your powers, and learning to dress nicely and applying makeup to enhance yourself. You'd work hard to become the ideal girl for him. One day, you'd get Satoru to notice you.

As you closed your compact mirror, you turned your head to the side and spotted him down the hall. Eyes softening, you whispered with a faint smile. “Wait for me… okay?”

Soon enough, it was working. You looked way better in senior year than you did in freshman year. Compliments became more frequent, and you had been called 'cute' or 'pretty' often by students who barely knew your name two years ago. Some people even thought you were a last minute transfer student at first with how sudden you appeared on everyone's radar. The outside attention was nothing to you, for there was only one person you wanted to see you.

That's when you decided it was time. The transformation had given you a surge of confidence, and you decided you'd finally approach the boy of your dreams. You had it all planned out. It'd be the perfect encounter, flawlessly orchestrated by your brilliance, and he'd fall for you as if it was love at first sight.

At least, that's what you thought would happen, but...

There's something in the way.

It was another girl in your class. She was popular and well liked by your peers. Unlike you, she had years to grow her overwhelming popularity. Compared to her, your likeness was only a droplet in her sea of fame. There she was, talking to Gojo, but it wasn't a normal sort of talk. She was getting awfully close, and you picked up on her trying to flirt with him. It was sickening.

"Seems like Ani is going for Satoru~"

"She told me they're totally going to go out!"

What?

There was a faint sound. A shatter of glass, like something inside you was breaking. You were petrified. A dull ringing echoed in your ears. Terror struck you down to your core, and your body froze in place like an ice sculpture as you stared forward. Breath and vision shaky, you tried to assess your crumbling reality. There's no way... you worked so hard just for him to get whisked away by someone else? The two of you were meant to be, so this was impossible. This isn't right... this can't be right. This can’t be…

Who does this girl think she is? Intruding on your plans? Does she seriously think she can waltz in and steal him away from you?! It isn't fair.

With narrow eyes and a displeased frown, your face twisted into a cruel scowl. Your nails were digging into your skin with how tightly your fists were clenched. Any firmer, and they’d bleed. A burgeoning jealousy was festering inside of you. A burning rage that would soon heighten into a towering inferno. You were a ticking time bomb, and if you went off, the consequences could be catastrophic. This has to stop. If fate wanted to continue to hinder you, you'd defy it. Satoru will be yours.

A quiet, tired sigh escaped your glossy lips. A stray lock of hair got in your face, but you gently brushed it away with the back of your wrist.

On your knees, you were currently sitting on your legs, resting on the ground. Set before you was a pile of human remains. The gory disarray made a mess of your bathroom floor, and extended to you. Even after removing your bloody dress, the crimson splatters persisted, as your skin and white undergarments were stained with red. The pungent smell of rotting flesh must be awful. Thankfully the mask you were wearing blocked it out. There probably wasn't an essential oil or fancy perfume strong enough to counter it, sadly. Still, you'd do your best. This was for true love, after all.

By the time you were finished, the body was carefully disposed of. Surveying the room, there was not a single trace left. As for your alibi and hers, it was tied up neatly. Since the two of you weren't friends, much less acquaintances, there was little to no connection between you both. And as far as everyone knew, Ani went on a vacation, one that she'd be on for a long time.

Unfortunately, you had to wait a while after graduation to get rid of her, but now that she wasn't in your way, you could finally see him.

"Oh, Satoru..." You crooned softly as you held your cheek. A warm feeling was growing in your chest. Lowering your lids, a borderline euphoric expression usurped your features. Just thinking about him gave you a surge of pure ecstasy. He was as good as yours. Blithely grinning to yourself, you could already picture yourself trapped in his embrace and drowning in his love. You couldn't wait to finally make your dreams come true.

The white haired man was just hanging up the phone. His friend went out on a trip a few weeks ago, but he figured she would've called at least once. They weren't that close, but he couldn't help but think about it. He lowered the device, shoving it into his pocket.

Suddenly, he felt someone bump into him.

"Ah...! I'm terribly sorry..." You apologized sheepishly. Once you glanced up and met his eyes, you froze in surprise. He was just as shocked, if not more that such a beautiful woman ran into him. From your silky hair, pretty face, and adorable coquette style of clothing, he couldn't help but stare. His captivation didn't go unnoticed by you either. Being able to take him back with your appearance gave you a pleasant rush.

"Gojo Satoru!" You beamed happily upon recognizing him. "It's nice to see you."

His charming smile returned as he studied you. "Oh hey! (L/N) (Y/N)... right?" No way... he remembered you! Hearing him say your name made your heart flutter. It felt like a few years were added to your lifespan. "Likewise."

"I see you've become a sorcerer for the school as well..." You observed. Faintly blushing, you returned his smile with a dulcet one as you held your chin. After all, the two of you were standing a few miles away from the building. If that wasn't a giveaway. "Though, I'm not surprised... you've always been incredibly powerful...!"

He chuckled at your praise. "Aww (L/N), you flatter me~!" Faking embarrassment, he dismissively waved a hand at you. The two of you shared a laugh.

"Oh...! Now that I have you, are you busy?" You decided to finally ask him. "I'd love to talk with you over tea."

Gojo paused in thought for a moment before answering. His eyes gleamed through the blue tinted lens of his glasses. It was a tempting offer. "Ah, well... I have a busy schedule... but I think I can make some time for you, Ms. (L/N)." He joked.

Once you heard him agree, you beamed at your small victory. This couldn't have been more perfect. After that, you offered to take him to the closest café. However, as you were about to start walking, you tripped again on your heels. 

"Eep...!" With a squeak, you lost your balance and grabbed onto his arm to steady yourself. Snaking your arms around his arm, you held him securely close to your chest. Your frame was pressed into his side.

As soon as you realized your intimate position, you looked up at him, face flushed with embarrassment. "S-Sorry!" Careful not to trip over your words, you began to explain. "I fought a curse on the way here. I'll be okay, but it cursed me to lose my balance ever so often..."

Total lie. You've mastered the art of acting scatterbrained just for this moment.

Shyly, you went to release him, but Gojo drew closer to you. "Oh, is that so...? Then... until that awful curse is gone, feel free to hang on for as long as you need." He insisted with a hum.

A faint blush of apprehension spread across your face. "E-Eh? Would your girlfriend be okay with that?" You asked with worry.

"I don't think she'll mind," He lowered himself, his face dangerously close to yours. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Considering... she doesn't even exist."

A pleasant shiver ran down your spine as your fond smile returned. She will though, in due time. You thought merrily to yourself.

Throughout the entire walk, you were ecstatic. In arm and arm like this, the two of you already looked like a couple. Gojo was as good as yours.

The two of you were having a delightful conversation. Most of it was just catching up and talking about school. After graduating, you both became alumni that worked for the school, but the two of you never had a chance to formally meet since work started.

Gojo studied your enchanting features. For some reason, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. From your appearance to your attire, you were breathtaking. To think he completely passed by you in high school. How did you manage to slip under his radar?

"I still can't believe we never talked." He voiced his thoughts aloud.

After hearing that, you paused in thought. "Oh, it's because I used to be really quiet." You confessed with a small smile. "It wasn't until the final year that I decided to reinvent myself to stand out."

"I see..." He hummed as his glance heavily studied your figure. You definitely did a good job at that. He couldn’t stop staring.

A warm smile appeared on your complexion when you met his eyes. "But, now we can make up for lost time, perhaps?"

Your offer intrigued him. Besides, how could he possibly turn down a goddess in human form? "I'd like that." He agreed with a fond grin, and your heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, Gojo's phone on the table went off. You could've sworn you recognized the name on it, but it belonged to a person who was no longer a part of this world. For a split second, your eyes went dark.

He went to check it, but before he could, you placed a hand atop his. The gesture was quick, but gentle to the touch. His eyes instantly fell on you, and your lips parted.

"T-The truth is... I've had feelings for you since school began." You couldn't help but confess.

Face burning from shyness, you avoided his gaze. "I know that's rather abrupt to say, and forgive me for being presumptuous, but..." You lifted your head.

"Now that you're here with me... I can't help myself." You frowned, your eyes gleaming with desperate longing.

"You're just so... perfect..." You whispered breathlessly. Upon saying those words, the world around you seemed to slow down. Lost in the moment, you couldn't tear your gaze away from your beloved. The only man you had eyes for. Staring at him with bated breath, you were in awe of his handsome features. He's like a god. As much as you wanted to kiss him, that would probably be going too far, and this abrupt confession was already treading the line.

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes softened. Callous reality began to break down your wonderous dream, and seep inside. Perhaps this was a mistake. You should've waited before confessing. It was far too sudden. Your expression turned crestfallen.

Suddenly, a hand took your lone one. Your eyes widened in shock. The gesture made your heart accelerate into overdrive. Gojo lifted up your hand, stroking the back of the palm with his thumb. His touch sent an electric pulse through your body. "Hm... how strange, I didn't think I'd get a confession on the first date." He mused.

"Though... that's not a bad thing." He insisted. Everything you’ve said so far were exactly the things he liked to hear. Resting his cheek on his palm, he leaned closer to you. His eyes traced your form. "I like a woman who knows what she wants."

I've won.

Blinking in surprise, your entire being filled with elation. A rush of ecstasy. Your heart was racing in your chest, and it felt like it was trying to escape. You were practically screaming on the inside. Still, you kept your composure as you met his gaze. "I'm glad." You smiled warmly, eyes shimmering with joy.

It felt like you were still locked in a dream. Finally, Gojo is before you, and the only person he has eyes for... is you. He's yours. He’s really yours. It's so surreal, you struggle to accept it is reality. The mere notion fills you with so much joy, words can't describe how happy you are. Just looking into his eyes gives you a rush of dopamine, and it feels like your veins will burst.

The date continued, and you spent most of it getting to know one another. Though, you know most everything about him, so it's mostly just him learning about you. You're very forthcoming about yourself, and you make sure to express how much you like him every chance you get. He seemed to enjoy how bold you were when it came to showing affection. It was as if he was the only man alive to you, and he certainly liked the attention.

It should be obvious, but there was a second date. And a third, and plenty more after that. Gojo wasn't immune to your charms, and he craved it more each time the two of you met. You earned the title of his girlfriend, and you made sure to make it known. Finally, you were getting the opportunity you so desperately yearned for, and it’s just like everything you imagined, and more. Akin to that of a siren, you triumphantly enraptured Satoru into your clutches. However, instead of killing your prey, you'd treasure him for all eternity.

Should he ever discover your immoral sin, it'd be too late. Now that you had him, you'd make sure he'd stay with you, and you were willing to do whatever it takes. Whether it be lying about taking birth control or poking holes in certain protections of his. Becoming his wife was the goal, and you'd soon get there. The wedding bells were already ringing in your head, and they sounded lovely.

this y/n x the yandere gojo from the last oneshot ???? 💍💍💍

dividers 1, 2: cafekitsune

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