#Mantra to get back lost love and lover

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[cilliansmesoftly]

chase it

pairing: tyler owens x fem!reader

summary: tyler has been harboring a severe crush on the team’s new meteorologist, but he’s scared she’s smart enough to reject him.. why can’t he follow his own mantra?

warning: best friends to lovers, love confession, angst, kissing, one bed trope, virginity lost, steamy smut!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she haunted his dreams, she plagued every thought running through his head. all the meaningless hookups he’s had could never compare to you, and he hadn’t even had you yet. he hasn’t had a kiss, hell, he hasn’t gotten more than a proud pat on the back from you. so why couldn’t he escape the hold you, unknowingly, had on him?

his entire brand was based on chasing fears. to not let it hold you back from the things you want most. tyler had you in some ways, at least. he had you as a best friend, his most trustworthy companion. the two of you got along so well, was it worth ruining?

he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. he’d much rather have a tornado pick him up and throw him into the sky than risk you not being in his life. you were too important to the team, to the cause, and to him. you got offered the opportunity to prove your meteorology skills on the field rather than behind a computer, and you couldn’t pass it up. you risked your career for this, and tyler would be damned to be the one to take that from you just because of a silly, gut-wrenchingly painful crush.

the team was at a local motel in oklahoma after a long day of chasing. dozens of other teams were in the parking lot, tailgating. tyler could hear the strum of guitars, singing, and laughter outside the window of his room. it was small, it had a strange smell that he didn’t want to know the source of. his eyes were fixed onto the box tv sitting on the dresser before a knock was heard at the door.

tyler sighed before getting up, his legs and back sore from how hard he had rode the truck today. the poor red dodge was battered and beaten from debris and tyler’s body was slammed around in his seat, but god, he loved it. he loved the chase, the adrenaline, the thrill. he could do it all day everyday without so much as a thought of fear. however, his breath hitched in his throat when he opened the door to reveal you in all of your gorgeous glory.

“hey.” you sighed out with a small smile. tyler cleared his throat and opened the door wider to let you in from the cool springtime breeze. “the motel doesn’t have anymore rooms. i’ve talked to every employee and every manager i could find.”

“just stay with me.” he spit out fast and without thinking. you’re best friends, you love each other. what could go wrong with sharing a bed for one night?

“oh, thank you.” you sighed in relief and wrapped your arms around him, ty took a step back from the impact, but quickly recovered and took in as much of your touch as you would give to him. “you mind if i shower real quick?”

“no, go ahead. you got clothes?” he asked once she stepped out of the embrace. he would kill someone to see her in one of his shirts. he imagined it baggy on her frame, her legs out on display and barely anything underneath the fabric. he imagined himself running his fingers down the smooth, soft skin of your thigh as you cuddled into him.

“did you hear me?” you snapped yours fingers in front of his eyes with a smile etched onto your face. he shook his head to clear the thoughts and raised his eyebrows, silently telling you he did, in fact, not hear what she said. “i asked if i could borrow one of your shirts, if you don’t mind.”

“i don’t mind at all.” he said, walking around the bed to his duffel bag. he pulled out one of his favorite shirts, it was worn and comfortable, and he tossed it to you. you caught it with feeble hands, giving him a death stare. he knew you were clumsy and he used it to tease you any chance he could. he chuckled at you, watching as you just shook your head and walked into the small bathroom.

if his thoughts were running before you got here, now they were sprinting a full on triathlon. racing and branching off into a million different scenarios for how this night would go. maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere. maybe he’d put out the fire that was burning him alive, eating him up with desire. but maybe it would turn into something more. maybe he’d chase his feelings, maybe he’d ride this fear and turn it into everything he’s wanted since he met you.

if you feel it, chase it.

he repeated his tagline more than a hundred times in his mind. telling himself over and over and over. and in the middle of telling himself one last time, you stepped out of the bathroom and his breath was stolen from his lungs. your hair was wet and it was dripping onto his shirt that fit you so well. it suited you, wearing his clothes. it felt good, it felt normal.

“i feel so much better.” you smiled, climbing into bed. tyler was sat on the chair in the corner of the room and you frowned at how far away he was. “you coming to bed?”

tyler nodded and stood up, he pulled his shirt over his head and you swallowed. his abs were carved and chiseled, a deep v-line at the end of them, just above his belt and leading into his blue jeans. you had to stop yourself from staring before he caught you. he sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing you, as he pulled off his boots. you almost reached out to graze your fingers over the tanned skin of his back, but you caught yourself. you can’t fall for the face of your team, you told yourself. even if, at night when you were all alone, you imagined the two of you together. you thought about living together, chasing storms for a living and making the most out of chasing your fears, making the most out of life.

you thoughts were interrupted as tyler started to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down. you smiled when he caught you looking, so you tucked your face into the pillow on his side of the bed so he could undress.

“you can watch, darlin. you know i don’t mind.” you could hear the smirk in his voice and you shook your head against the soft pillow with a giggle.

“shut up.” your voice was muffled by the pillow, making tyler laugh under his breath. he pulled a pair of grey sweatpants out of his bag and slipped them on, collapsing on top of you on the bed. you groaned under his weight, trying to toss him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “ty, i can’t breathe.” you laughed out. he only snuck his hands around your waist, tickling your sides. you shrieked, your knees trying their best to buck tyler off of you. your laugh was music to his ears and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. he braced his legs to straddle you, so you couldn’t escape his unrelenting hands. you were wheezing, trying to toss and turn away from him.

tyler suddenly stopped and as you were trying to catch your breath, his lips met yours in a soft, but quick kiss. your eyes shot open and you gently pushed him off of you. tyler sighed, opening his mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.

“i can’t do this, ty.” the nickname falling from your lips made tyler feel like a child getting scolded for coloring on the walls.

“why not?” his voice was pleading, his eyebrows were pinched, making a cute little wrinkle appear on his forehead. you sighed, bringing your knees to your chest.

“because you’re my boss. you’re the leader of our team. i don’t want to jeopardize our relationship.” you shook your head. your brain was thinking clearly, logically. but your heart, on the other hand, was screaming at the top of its lungs, trying to get you to confess how you feel, how all you’ve ever wanted in life was someone like tyler. someone who makes you feel safe, secure. someone who would push you to live life to the absolute fullest, never letting fear take the wheel.

“we wouldn’t jeopardize it, y/n. i-i like the shit out of you, baby.” he dropped his head onto the bed in slight defeat before looking back up at you. “we can make it work.” his heart was pounding out of his chest, he was begging you to let this happen. he couldn’t face you if you didn’t.

“i-” you sighed, shoving your face into your hands. in and out, you breathed. thinking of every possible outcome that this could bring. “what about all of your other girls? the ones you take up to your room at night and never speak to again? are you gonna do that to me?”

“y/n, i would never to that to you.” he said lowly, taking your hands away from your face. your eyes were slightly watery and red-rimmed. his heart broke at the sight and vowed in his mind to never be the one to make you look like this again.

“how do i know that? you’re tyler owens. tornado wrangler, and known lady killer. how can i be sure that you won’t leave me for someone better?” you asked. you were honest in your questions, voicing every doubt you had, though there were only a few.

“there is no one better. there is no one that knows me better than you, y/n. no one who makes me laugh more, no one who makes me smile more, no one who can ground me like you, even in the face of a disaster.” he climbed to your side, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him. a slight tear fell down your cheek and tyler thumbed it away. you sighed, looking down while shaking your head.

“what if this isn’t a good idea?” you asked, your voice small and full of trepidation. he scoffed and pulled you closer, practically sitting in his lap now.

“i haven’t had an idea this good in a long time. you can vouch for that. most of the choices in my life aren’t very smart, but this one?” he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “i’ve had to build up so much courage and strength to even hint that i wanted this. i was scared.”

“you? scared?” you scoffed. “what’s all that talk about riding your fears then?”

“i guess i felt it… just took me a while to realize if i didn’t chase it, it’d slip from my fingers.” he kissed the top of your head and you leaned up to capture his lips. it was slow, gentle, telling him everything he needed to know about how you felt. you wanted this.

“you know, you took my breath away when i first met the team.” you said against his lips, and he groaned, leaning his forehead onto yours.

“all these months we’ve wasted, we could’ve had each other on the first day. i thought my legs were gonna give out when we picked you up at the airport. you were the most beautiful thing i had ever laid eyes on, baby.” his words made your heart ache, no one had ever said anything so sweet to you before and you knew were in good hands.

“no day with you is wasted.” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him down to kiss you. you swiped your tongue on his bottom lip, begging to explore him. he didn’t even think before opening his mouth wider and intertwining his tongue with yours, massaging all around. he groaned into the kiss like this is all he’s ever wanted, which is true. his hands found your waist and pulled you under him. one of his knees were between your legs and the other was braces beside your right leg. he brought his knee up higher, allowing you to grind down on the soft fabric of his sweatpants. your mind was racing again, trying to find the right time to tell tyler. as if he could sense your thoughts, he pulled back slightly, panting.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hand came up to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch before hiding into his forearm. “what is it?”

“i’ve- i’ve never…" you trailed off with a frustrated huff. tyler didn’t catch your drift, looking at you with confusion, but also patience and admiration. “i’ve never done this before, ty.”

“oh,” he replied, and you sighed into his skin. “we can wait.”

“what?” you looked back at him, your brows furrowed slightly.

“if you want to wait, that’s okay. we don’t need to rush.” he said gently.

you thought for a moment. you trusted tyler with every bone and fiber of your being. there was no one else you thought would be more careful and gentle than him.

“can you teach me?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes and tyler had to hold back from bucking into you at your innocent expression. so cute, so sweet.

“yes, baby.” he sounded so sincere, proudly honoring the fact that he would be the first you trusted enough to guide you through this. “as much as i love how you look in my shirt, can i take it off?”

you nodded, but he tsked with a shake of his head.

“gonna need your words, sweetheart.”

“yes.” you breathed out, your body tingling in arousal and slight anxiety.

“relax.” he said into your ear before kissing your cheek. his fingers grazed your sides where his shirt had rode up on you, he slowly slid it up your body and over your head, tossing it onto the motel room floor. “i got you, okay?”

“okay.” you nodded.

“you’re breathtaking.” he whispered, leaning back to take you in. the valley between your breasts was beckoning him to kiss the skin, to mark his way all the way down the length of your body and all the way back up. “never seen anything so pretty.”

you blushed at his words, covering your face with your hands, but tyler whined and brought them back down.

“don’t hide from me, darlin.” he toyed with the hem of your panties. a simple cotton pair that had lace trim at the top, he looked up at you for approval before sliding them down your legs and into the pocket of his sweats. his body shivered at the sight of your perfect center, glistening in arousal. he brought his index finger up to gather some of the slick and spread it around your core, unabashedly licking the rest off his digit.

you moaned as he kissed your clit, swollen and pleading for attention. tyler cooed as you writhed underneath him. “gotta be still, honey.”

“can’t.” you breathed out, feeling his breath hovering right over you was torture. tyler laid his forearm over your belly, a firm pressure to keep you from moving. his mouth was all over you, sucking your clit, kissing the inside of your thighs. you were a whining, moaning mess. as you leaned up a bit to watch him, you caught him rocking his hips into the mattress. a filthy, heavenly sight that had you falling back with a cry of pleasure. he was getting himself off on eating you out and you couldn’t take it anymore. “ty, i’m close.”

“hold it, darlin’.” he ordered, prodding his fingers against your hole. “gotta get you ready for my cock, doll.”

you could’ve sworn you saw stars in your vision. the stretch was beautifully painful and your hands white-knuckled the sheets at the sensation. tyler was still working your clit and it took every ounce of strength you had not to come. he slowly let you get used to the feeling then added a second finger and you hissed, trying to pull back. “she’s a tight little thing,” tyler looked up at you. “not sure if i’ll fit in there.”

you gasped as he started to rut his digits into you, scissoring and stretching your walls to get you better fit for taking his cock.

“ty,” you breathed his name, already working up to your orgasm again. you were drunk off of his touch. it only got harder to hold off your climax as tyler brought your legs to sit over his shoulders, completely drowning himself in your slick. his eyes were closed, looking like the face of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. with a few more thrusts of his fingers and his lips working wonders on your clit, your walls clenched around him and your back arched off the bed. tyler groaned into you as you came, bringing you impossibly closer to his face. he worked you through your orgasm, licking up your slick and making he sure he got every last bit, almost too precious to waste.

“you taste like fucking candy.” he muttered, crawling up your body to plant a messy kiss to your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips and you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip before indulging in him. everything about tyler, you loved. you loved how the stubble of his cheeks felt against your chin and cheeks. you loved the way you could feel his cock against your tummy in his sweatpants.

“take them off.” you said against his lips, woozy from your orgasm and only driven by pure lust. your heels pushed back on the hem of his sweats and tyler laughed at your impatience.

he made a show of undressing. teasingly climbing off your body and tugging the material down his legs before stepping out of them. your mouth watered at the sight of him through his boxers, looking painfully hard. he smirked as he watched how your face dropped when he finally slipped off his underwear. you recovered quickly, sitting up on your elbows to beckon him to you.

he leaned down, kissing your ankles and dragging his tongue all the way to your belly before pressing a kiss there too, he made his way all the way to the valley of your breasts. his lips and tongue sucking marks onto your skin and his hands caressing your breasts.

“you’re such a tease.” you whined collapsing back onto the pillow in frustration. tyler laughed, laying his head down on your chest.

“i’m just enjoying this.” you raked your hands through his sandy blonde hair, relishing in the way he gazed so deeply at you. “need to cherish this.”

“if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds i’ll call boone to come do it.” you said it with a straight face, fighting the sides of your mouth to not quirk up.

“don’t say that ever again.” he rumbled seriously, his big hands spreading your legs wider for him. “this is mine.”

“prove it.” you challenged. your dominance wavered as ty let the tip of his cock gather your arousal, hitting your clit as he rocked against you. he bent down to kiss you, trying to distract you from the stretch as he slowly pushed into your heat. “oh, dear god.”

“you got it, baby.” he pushed back the hair on your forehead, kissing your cheek sweetly. your hands found solace in his hair again, pulling at the root when he bottomed out. tyler groaned at the pain, already holding back from his own peak. “you feel so good.”

“y-you can move.” you encouraged, panting as if you were running a marathon. tyler slowly pulled out and pushed in, cherishing the sweet little sounds you let out before rocking into your hips faster.

the sounds of your wetness, the joint moans and groans coming from both of you, skin hitting skin, it all had your head feeling dizzy. you were so high on the moment. the adrenaline was coursing through your veins, you wished this could happen every night after a day of chasing.

“you’re doing so good, angel.” tyler’s voice broke you out of your thoughts and you cupped his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back. the new angle forced him even further into you. tyler nipped at your bottom lip, his hips moving to the rhythm of their own song. “i’m getting close.”

“turn me around.” you gasped against his lips. tyler didn’t think twice before pulling out and turning you, hoisting you up so you were on your hands and knees for him. he marveled at the sight, slipping back into you easily. you both moaned at the feeling. ty was hitting your spot with every thrust and you had to muffle your loud noises with the pillow under your head.

“you’re all mine.” he growled into your ear, his hand gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest. his left hand reached around your body to circle your clit and you had to fight the urge to collapse back onto the bed. your bodies had a slight sheen of sweat to them and the room started to feel stuffy and hot. “say it.”

“i’m yours.” you mumbled.

“look at you, cock drunk.” he teased, your walls were clenching him with every thrust and he was losing his pacing. you felt so good, better than he imagined. “you wanna ride me?”

you didn’t have to say anything, you felt him pull out and suddenly you were on his lap, rubbing his cock through your folds, your head thrown back in bliss. tyler could come right then. to know he was the one making you feel like this while looking like that. you looked like an angel had just fell down from heaven and landed in his lap. you lined him up with your entrance, the two of you watching as his cock disappeared inside of you. you started to bouncing on your feet, the spongy spot inside of you getting abused with every movement you made. your knees were buckling from the pleasure and tyler caught on, matching his thrusts with your movements. his hand was rubbing up and down your back, the intimacy of it all made your heart ache.

“i love you.” your lips spewed the words faster than you could think. tyler flipped the two of you back over, kissing your lips before leaning back. his rough hands, calloused from work, dragged up your thighs, to your calves bringing them up to rest on his shoulders, he hugged your legs so that his face was all cute and smushed between them. his hips never wavered and you were so, so close to your peak.

“i’ve always loved you.” you came just as soon as the words left his lips and he was right behind you. his cock twitched as he emptied everything he had inside of you, your legs fell off his shoulders and he collapsed onto you.

the next few minutes were spent catching your breath, fingers tracing skin, and sweet kisses.

“i’ll be right back.” tyler whispered against your lips, getting up and going into the bathroom. you cuddled against the duvet and watched him in awe. he came back with a wet rag, and he carefully spread your legs to clean up the mess you two had made. you hissed at the overstimulation and he kissed the inside of your thigh in apology. he threw the rag into the bathroom without even looking to see where it went and cuddled back in bed with you.

“i meant what i said.” you said quietly, you cheek pressed into his warm chest. “i love you, ty.”

“i meant it, too. ever since i first saw you, i knew it.” tyler’s fingers traced the skin of your back, drawing unknown shapes. “i’ve always loved you.”

“how in the hell are we gonna explain this to the team”? you shook your head against him. you could only imagine the looks on their faces when the two of you walk out of your room in the morning. the once best friends turned to lovers overnight.

“i’m pretty sure they all know.” he laughed under his breath. “i overheard boone and lily making a bet about when we would get together.”

“that’s what they were talking about?” your head shot up in shock and tyler smiled at the expression on your face. “well, lily knew i had a crush on you, like, months ago.”

“yeah?” he asked. “i told boone about mine, too.”

“i wonder who won the bet.” you giggled into his chest.

the room fell into a comfortable silence, you and tyler just enjoying each others presence before sleep finally took over you. tyler fell asleep soon after, your bodies intertwined and hands laced together.

the morning after, you and tyler got a text from boone about a huge cell forming a few miles from where you were. scrambling to get ready, the both of you walked out of the motel room to greet the team who all looked at each other with knowing smiles.

“don’t say anything.” you scowled at the team, who all shrugged like they didn’t know what happened. tyler smiled, his arm wrapping around you and slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

“sorry about the room thing, y/n.” boone apologized to you, but your brows furrowed.

“how did you know about that? you were asleep.” boone smiled and took a few steps back.

“i might’ve slipped the manager fifty dollars to tell you there weren’t any rooms so that you and ty would hookup.” he said sheepishly, his feet turned to be ready to run at any time. lily shot up from her seat on the tailgate of the truck.

“what?!” she shrieked. “you cheated, asshole!”

“you owe me some money, lil.” boone stuck his tongue out, but sprinted away as lily started running after him.

“welp,” tyler watched as his team went into full defense mood, trying to get each member on either boone’s side of logic or lily’s. “think the tornado will wait on them to stop fighting?”

“fat chance.” you leaned against his chest, looking up at him. tyler looked down and his heart melted at the sight of you. finally his girl is in his arms. he could swoon. “i think we owe boone a thank you.”

“how long do you think they’ll fight?” he didn’t even look over the bickering friends. his eyes were solely focused on you. “can i sneak you back into the room for a few minutes?”

you thought for a moment, watching boone and lily cuss each other like siblings before looking up at tyler. “yes sir.”

the two of you ran off, back to solace of the room, tornados to be wrangled, but you couldn’t care less. if you feel it, chase it.

[romanoffsbish]

Sex on the Beach

Wanda Maximoff x F!R (College AU)

Natasha x F!R x Yelena (found family)

Warnings: Alcohol | Possessive / Jealous Wanda | Mutual Pining | Shy / Awkward R | Natasha is a little shit 💕

Smut: Awkward/Sweet 1st time (Dialogue Breaks) | Mommy (W) | Thigh-Riding / Strap / Oral (R) | Marking | Oral (W)

With Natasha’s lover deployed for the holiday’s she takes an interest in her best friend’s pathetic love life. | WC: 8,676

Request

"Natasha, I swear to god I will never forgive you," you whined, hands clutching desperately onto your best friend's crossed arms, but she wasn't phased one bit.

That much was clear as she slowly rolled her eyes, "There are eight rooms, and eleven of us Y/N, there's no way around it. Val and Carol are sharing, I'm the one grouped up with Lena, so suck it up buttercup."

"I can bunk with Bucky!" Natasha laughed, "Yeah, and then when Steve sneaks in what will you do? Pretend to be asleep while they fuck like it's the closet, again?"

You quite frankly didn't mind such vile behavior. Anything seemed better to you than the alternative.

——

"Love is love," you used the mantra as a plead and the redhead nearly keeled over. "Nice..." You grinned then, with a doomed sense of glee. "Still not happening."

"Then why don't you make them bunk together?"

"Because they'd know we know, and it is rude to force people out of their clear glass closets Y/N/N." You simply huffed in reply, and pushed her slightly as you released your former death grip on her. Natasha smiled softly this time, but she refused to change her mind. It was her job as your best friend to push you in the right direction, even if you couldn't see the bigger picture just yet. "Hey! At least Wanda doesn't snore."

You knew from experience Natasha was making the biggest sacrifice of all with Yelena, but quite frankly you didn't care. Right now you are feeling spiteful.

Natasha cackled at the middle finger you threw her way, but it was more so because you tripped as you spun to get away from her. You never hit the ground though as two dainty, albeit mighty hands caught you.

Wanda's eyes had lit up, her nose scrunched as her lips raised joyfully. Natasha could see the hearts circling. So, the redhead took her cue to go, and that made the brunette even more pleased to have you all to herself.

"Falling for me so soon, kitten?" Wanda teased, her lips curled up into an obnoxiously hot smile as your uncrossing eyes peered up at her, you were paralyzed; unsure if you wanted to kiss her grin away or slap it out of existence. The way she never failed to leave you in a hazy state of mind infuriated you, like yes, she was a gorgeous woman, but did she have to crumble you?!

The answer was also yes, all you offered the girl was a weak thanks for saving you from scraped palms, then you quickly scurried off to the room she'd be in soon.

Just like every time, you didn't look up nor back at her, ensuring you missed her sad eyes and pouty lips. If you wanted her plenty, she wanted you even more. Nobody else interested her quite like you did. Wanda had seen you at a few frat parties before she then forged her way into your friend group through Carol and Valkyrie.

They were all on the same volleyball team, and they hit it off so well that they brought her to a game night. You weren't known for your silence, but when she entered that apartment you suddenly became mute. Natasha teased you for a week about your pathetic gay panic, she even tried to tell you it was a mutual crush, but you refused to believe her; she who would never lie to you, yet you questioned her loyalty, lost in a haze of fear.

Natasha was honestly offended; more so determined.

Which is why she had to resort to begging Tony not to book the bigger place for the winter break kick back you were having. None of you had family, at least not the kind worth visiting, so you celebrated together.

For a change of pace from snow and gloom, the lot of you saved up enough for getting passports and Tony refused to let any of you worry about the rest. Howard was not a good father, or man quite frankly, but his well of guilt money was something Tony appreciated.

The Fijian resort he booked was gorgeous, and resided on a private part of the oceanfront, but was still within walking distance of the communal areas. It might be winter vacation, but you were in a sunny paradise across the world, the palm trees swayed as the brisk breeze brought on by the ocean blew right on by.

It was warm and humid, just as you'd expect in a tropical paradise such as this one. After the awkward moment spent embarrassing yourself with your crush you made sure to not be there when she got to the room. Fortunately for you she was stopped by the long term lovers, Care and Val, so you had just enough time to drop your belongings off before exploring the island.

The island was beautiful and the people were friendly enough to even give you a tour of the not so common spots. It was peaceful talking to strangers, and unlike in the states you didn't feel like you were a bother.

After they'd been so generous with their time you thanked them with lunch before heading back to where your friends were all lazing about indoors. To avoid further embarrassment you settled down in the sand and before you realized it you'd spent hours out there.

Perched under a cluster of trees, lost in a nsfw book, honestly you could've stayed there until the sun had set but your friends never really could let you know peace.

"I'm not going," you immediately denied whomever it was that was sent to collect you. Fearful to see the brunette of your dreams after finally calming down.

"Y/N, you need to stop being such a party pooper!"

You sighed softly, knowing that of course Natasha would send the only other person who doesn't back down when it comes to your antics; a lifetime of friendship tends to come with these pesky advantages.

After a moment of anxious thoughts you sighed again, slid a bookmark between the nearly finished pages then held your hand out for the impatient blonde. Yelena grumbled, "took you long enough, I was getting tired of the pity partying," as she hoisted you up with a force that nearly put you right back on the ground.

"It's not a pity party," you weakly defended in offense but the blonde only cackled as she began to walk off, "Y/N, you are all alone reading a book about sex with longing eyes and a pout, totally unnecessary too since you have someone patiently waiting to rail you..."

"Oh my god, Yelena!" The blonde took off before you could berate her like her mom would, but not without shouting back that Natasha had picked your outfit out for you with express instructions on not deviating.

For a split second you considered dropping back into the you shaped hole in the sand, but you knew Yelena was only a warning. If Natasha came to collect you it would be more embarrassing and it was only day one of the trip, there were still nine left to go so you caved.

Once you got to your room you found it to be empty of the woman you feared being around, but her elegant scent lingered and left you in a state of contemplation.

Would it really be so bad to see if Natasha is right?

Could you really be oversimplifying her kindness?

The more you consider it, the more you see her point. Wanda never missed a chance to talk to you, even in the hallways of the massive university she said hello. You usually nodded your head or squeaked out a hi, which you now hope she didn't take offensively. The last thing you'd ever want would be to offend her.

Then there was the glaring proof of today, when she playfully insinuated you'd fall for her... Either she is just a full time tease or you are an oblivious idiot. Truthfully, it was likely a combination of the two.

Your thoughts of consideration died when you looked down to see clothes that were not from your luggage. Natasha had apparently gone shopping for, not with, you and laid out a swim suit and two overlay options.

There was a strapless, one piece swimsuit, which you were grateful for, but the fabric over the hips was cut out and only barely passed the test of your boundaries. After you slipped into it you were left with a dilemma, wear the sheer swim slip or the form fitting dress.

"Good choice," a raspy voice called, you didn't even flinch, part of you expecting the woman to be keeping an eye on you just in case you tried to bail. Natasha chuckled, "at least this time you aren't falling," as you'd flipped the redhead off once more, this time without turning to face her as you were getting dressed.

"Or was that on purpose?" Natasha teased, "Letting Wanda save you—the pretty damsel in distress."

"I hate you," you grumbled as you turned to glare at her. Natasha negated your phrase as her hands moved to pat down the fly away hairs ruined by the fabric sliding over your head, then she smiled proudly. "You sure clean up well when you are properly supervised."

"Now, now... None of that," Natasha scolded as you flopped back onto your mattress in a defiant manner, huffing angrily in Russian to get the point across. "You are getting better, the lessons with mama are working."

"Da," you smiled fondly thinking of Melina, who was one of the only of your friend's parents you liked. The woman presents outwardly as cold, but it's not true. You knew what cold was, you'd grown up with it and so the Russian's house was like a home away from hell.

When Melina said, "How's my baby girl been?" last year while moving to hug you first instead of Nat or Lena you nearly sobbed all over the woman's blouse. But with a petty quip from Lena, "what are we then? Just her daughters?" followed by a jab to her ribs from Natasha who smiled at you, the urge to break down was gone and you kept it together to celebrate.

This year their mom had gone back home, they were going to go along but she was adamant they focused on their friendships and hopefully partners soon. Yelena wasn't as hopeless as you, but Kate unfortunately was.

Nat had Maria—who was deployed for the holidays, and it was then that you realized her focusing on your love life was for her distraction and her mom's joy.

"Stop having googly eyes for my mom," she gagged, "Save them for Wanda." You stood up and pulled your friend's face into your hands, expression far too serious for the redhead to believe you were in distress. "We didn't want to tell you girls yet, but Melina and I are..."

"Don't you finish that sentence you disgusting freak!"

Natasha ripped her face from your hands so she could escape the torture that was your devilish humor. Just as she reached the door she turned to you with a fixed glare as you were wiping away humored tears. "What?"

"Stop standing there like an idiot and follow me Y/N."

You followed the redhead silently, but with a scowl so that she knew you didn't align with her view of you. The walk to the private cabana was silent, but soon the booming voices of your friends surrounded you as they practically cheered. "You two are behind on shots!"

Tony wasted no time after alerting you to the 'dilemma' before he was handing you two full to the brim with what you knew to be the most expensive vodka. The drops lost down your chin probably worth more than the beat up Camry that you drove around back home.

After the burn in your throat faded you stepped into the circle and clashed a third shot into your friends before the lot of you tossed them back with glee. You could feel your mind and body loosening up, it was a relief honestly but then you caught sight of the deep, vivacious green eyes that were raking over your body.

In turn, you followed suit and were not disappointed. Natasha dressed you more provocatively but Wanda looked like she was interested in a casual evening. The brunette didn't need the skimpy dress or makeup to attract the attention of others, at least not with you.

Currently, she was wearing a nude bikini, the top noticeable behind the lengthy patterned cover up. Yet it still turned your mind to mush without the flair and left you to ponder if you were ready to make a move.

Your eyes continued to shamelessly wander her body, a side effect of the strong booze you supposed. There was a thin gold chain that worked like a choker around her neck, with another chain that dangled down the front and drew your attention to the valley of her chest as it only stopped just above her navel. It took everything in you not to gawk at her breasts, so you trailed your eyes back up to find her staring at you, eyes full of tease.

You definitely knew then you weren't ready, the closest you came was to send her an easy smile and Wanda sent back a more enthusiastic one because to her that was still progress. If she played her cards right this trip and thanked the godsend that is Natasha for forcing proximity she might just leave Fiji with you on her hip.

Natasha sent you a soft glare when you excused yourself to the ladies room, where after using the restroom you decided you'd build your courage up a bit more before you would even try to start a conversation.

That's how you found yourself patiently waiting your turn at the bar, sitting sideways on the stool as you fondly watched your friends from afar with a smile.

"Sex on the beach!" Yes, most definitely you thought while giving Wanda another look over. Then you were brought back to reality when the bartender tapped your shoulder. Your body shook with fright, but you regained your composure as you shifted. Kelani, the bartender, smirked as you cocked your head to the side in question. "Courtesy of the lady at the end of the bar." You gulped, clearing your throat to thank the woman then turned to see Natasha in a cloak. The redhead winked, then slinked away to the restroom.

It seemed the persistent woman had a death wish, because if you didn't get to her first, Wanda might.

Unfortunately, you were whisked away before you could reach your shit head of a best friend, who you figured was planning something all day long. Shit head was beginning to seem like an understatement when you felt a body pressing yours into the side of a door.

How the hell did you get inside so quickly?

Wanda was fuming, she was no stranger to a one night stand, and there was no way in hell she'd let you follow the dead woman walking there. It actually hurt her to see you making your way through the crowd to do so.

Was the smile you sent her in vain? Were you merely trying your hand at letting the woman down easy?

There was no part of Wanda willing to accept that, even if you were free to mingle with whomever. She couldn't let you try before you gave her a chance, so she pulled you away from the public, prying eyes of the locals so that she could try her luck one final time.

A light flickered on and you saw your belongings, then you saw a tumultuous sea of green staring down at you, she looked hurt and that made your heart ache and mind nervous. "Wh-what was that W-wanda?"

"What were you doing following that woman Y/N?" She decided to answer your question with one of her own instead, and slowly tilted her head to the side. It felt like you were in trouble, so you remained quiet and it nearly infuriated her but then she saw your gaze.

It was soft, inquisitive in nature, but moreover dilated.

Something deeper than lust swirled; annoyance, and that's when she got the answer. Wanda already had her suspicion of who it was, and she silently thanked her before readjusting her position as well as her words.

"You don't have to be so shy around me, you know?" You did know, but the bashfulness wasn't something you controlled around the goddess, much like your mouth when tipsy, "I know, but like—I can't help but to be turned on by the sight of you."

Well, so much for remaining bashful, Wanda's cheeks warmed before your very eyes, but you missed it as you closed them due to embarrassment. It was taking all of her willpower not to give you what you were both in need of. You were far too special for a quickie, she fully intended to take her time with you, "You know, how about a little fun before we go to bed?"

"F-fun?" Wanda's eyes fell to catch the trepidation of your throat, it bobbed out, almost unnaturally. You both knew there was no going back as her knee slid between your thighs to press into your wet swimsuit.

An airy chuckle left her as you whined, the woman knew for damn sure you'd barely made it to the bar so there was no way you'd taken a dive in the water first.

"Yes honey," she purred as she leaned in closer, "fun," her nose nuzzled against yours and her hot breaths mixed with your own. "Seems you're more than ready, so unless you want to object I'm going to kiss you.

"I-I," your voice trembled as your eyes watered and she lessened the pressure of her knee against your core, a sense of fear in her soul that she'd been too forward.

Wanda softly pressed, "What is it sweetheart?"

"I don't do one night stands," you squeaked out rather pitifully before finding some confidence. "I don't find anything wrong with the notion but it's not for me."

Wanda internally beamed, not only would you not have left that bar with a stranger tonight, but you were able to set a clear boundary; she not only respected it but she agreed with you. Wherever the night takes you two it would never be a once off for the brunette, who unbeknownst to you, was a total hopeless romantic.

Wanda responded softly, her tone free of pressure, "We don't have to sleep together Y/N, we can just lay down and get to know each other better if you aren't ready."

Her nose firmly pressed into yours as she continued, not leaving you a chance to reply before she laid it all out on the table. "I need you to know that as much as I crave you honey, it's not just your body, contrarily what I want most is for your heart to be mine."

With a confidence Wanda had yet to detect you gently pushed her back, initially her heart quivered at the thought of your incoming rejection, but it never came. Instead, you smiled a bit more bravely and pulled the outer layer you'd worn off to reveal just the one-piece.

"If you are being genuine, Wanda, then all I ask is that you take it slow please. I'm not the best at all of this..."

Wanda grinned, her hands quickly found purchase on your waist, unexpectedly rough thumbs ran over the bare skin and caused goosebumps to lay in their wake. Reminding you of the punk band she plays in with her brother and Clint on the weeknights at local bars. A small smile adorned your face, you began to get lost in the memory of the one time you watched them live.

Wanda tilted her head. "What did I lose you to, hm?"

You chuckled softly, "A memory of you performing."

"Oh," she sounded genuinely surprised, and that was because she never knew you'd gone to a show. A part of her was honestly embarrassed, but she covered it up with a tease, "If you were there, then why did I never see you amongst the groupies..." You rolled your eyes and she giggled, the follow up look in your blown out eyes told her she was taking too long to fuck you.

So the woman simply took a second to breathe in the moment, her head leaned back as she smiled broadly up at the ceiling from merely feeling you. "Wanda..."

Her soft, warm lips brushed over yours, cutting off your expected pleading, but she refrained from kissing you just yet. "Want mommy to take control detka?"

A deep, sensual chuckle sounded off the walls as you whimpered and pressed yourself into her. "Please."

The brunette slid her hands up, caressing your sides as her lips gently pecked your cheek, then they crossed over one another as she wrapped you in her embrace. Both of you stood there in silence, breaths mixing but neither of you moved to rid your life of the gap. Time stood still alongside you both until Wanda got her own nerves under control so that she could perform well.

"Is sex before a first date alright with you," she teased with inflection, but her eyes were genuinely inquisitive.

The silence paired with your adorable pout urged her to go on. With a heavy sigh, she did just that. "I ask, again, because once I kiss you Y/N, I don't know how quickly I will be able to stop myself. You just, you make me feel out of control detka, so just please be sure."

The look in her eyes was palpable, lust swirled and you felt a pulse of need between your thighs. You whined, "Mommy please," body too desperate for her attention for you to worry about the embarrassment anymore.

Wanda simply hummed, her thumbs gently dug into your skin and you obediently met her gentle gaze. You could see she wanted to, the way she gripped your hips even tighter a clear sign, but you could see that she needed more reassurance. "I trust you Wanda."

Wanda nods, smile soft as she finally broke the distance, her lips pressed to yours with an earnest need all while her hands returned to your hips so that she could aide you in getting off on her bare thigh. A part of your hazy mind still wondered when she had even removed her swimsuit cover, but the pleasure you felt from her choices left your mind incapable of thought.

The kiss was initially messy and awkward as the two of you got used to the shared affection, but once a rhythm had been set with her hands on your hips you were able to melt more easily into the lip lock. Your mind began to slip away, and the bubbling anxiety followed.

Eventually though, the pleasure became too much as Wanda swiftly slid your swimsuit to the side, the both of you groaned at the much more intimate feeling. It was suddenly tense, the brunette's lips had moved to kiss all over the skin you'd left exposed all the while her hands never stopped building you to your peak.

"Cum for mommy whenever you like," she purred, almost teasingly as she somehow knew you were close. Part of you wanted to feel embarrassed but you were too deep in pleasure to care that you looked desperate.

You came seconds after she left a mark on your neck, in the little juncture where it met with your shoulder. Wanda bit down harshly as she felt your delightful arousal ooze down her thigh, her own need now rising.

Wanda suddenly pulled away to catch the look of bliss on your face, internally cursing herself for nearly missing it; no way she'd waited all this time to see it just to miss it. Fortunately, she was just in time to watch your mouth fall open, and fuck if you weren't the most alluring beauty the woman had ever seen; a mess

The top of your suit had shifted down some as every time Wanda had roughly moved your body back the oak door would shift the elastic red fabric. A peak at your areoles had her mind positively spinning with the endless possibilities for the ways to have you.

The thoughts overwhelmed her while you slowly returned to a state of calm, your once tightly shut eyes fluttered open to catch sight of Wanda with her lip caught between her teeth as her eyes trailed over you.

You leaned in to kiss her slowly, it almost felt like a thank you and that made Wanda's heart swoon further. It lasted for a few seconds until you felt your lungs beg for the break they needed after your intense climax. In the moment of rest you decided to take a page from her book, and the first thing you did now that her body was nearly bare was to gawk at her perky breasts.

They sat so prettily in the cups of her bikini top and you just wanted to bury yourself in the shallow gap that lay between them. Wanda knowingly smirked, finding the look of awe on your face adorable; she was absolutely certain you'd be drooling on her in no time.

"You can touch me detka," she whispered, lips turned up as she met your eyes, "mommy doesn't mind..."

With a shaky hand you reached behind her, fingers gently laid against the clasp of her bra while your eyes searched hers once more for any hesitation. "Do it."

Her nude bra hit the floor, exposing her breasts to you, and just as you'd dreamed before they were perfect. It had always been your thought that all breasts were, no matter if they were lopsided, or small, nothing ever deterred your adoration for the warm, malleable tissue.

Wanda watched the way your tongue slowly licked over your bruised lips, you were hyper fixated on ogling her, but as her hand slid around your neck you realized she was just as desperate as you were to be touched. The worry you once felt melted away as you nuzzled your face against her breasts, lips grazing over the skin in a way that almost felt like teasing. But the woman knew you were just trying to admire the swell of her chest.

A soft sigh left her when you became more firm as your lips pressed into her heated skin. The brunette allowed you to blindly walk her backwards until she fell onto the bed, pulling your body right down with hers. You were lost somewhere in a haze as you suckled on her breasts, leaving behind marks without a thought to if she'd want that, but her moans quelled that rising fear.

Her back arched as soon as your tongue softly flicked over her pert nipple, there was hardly any hesitation as you swirled your tongue around her areola just before you pulled her nipple between your teeth and tugged. The way you suckled on her bud was almost feverish, a gentle laugh left her over a moan as she found your sudden wave of confidence to be a bit unexpected.

Unfortunately, that made you pull away with a crease between your raised brows. "Um, I-I'm sorry if I..."

Wanda replied by wordlessly pulling you back down, your face now hovering her other nipple, it had yet to receive the marvelous treatment and she desperately wanted you to touch her. "Detka, please continue..."

The woman found herself melting as you complied, her back slowly met with the mattress again as she fell into the comfort of your ministrations. Slowly, her hands began to glide over your bare sides, scratching at the skin as you built her arousal up to something painful.

The need to have you overweighed her desire for you to continue satisfying her. Cold hands soon slid beneath the elastic fabric overlaying your body, her nails slowly trailed faint lines over your skin until she finally cupped your breasts as you continued to suck on hers.

On instinct you ground your pelvis down into hers, a moan left you and reverberated around her nipple as you felt something hard rub against you. Again, you hadn't a clue when she had put a strap on, but in the lust of it all you didn't actually care much. Wanda smirked up at the ceiling at your shock, something you caught as you peered up at her from her chest.

"You know," she sighed rather amusedly, "I've dreamt of this moment for a while now and never once did you end up on the top of mommy like this kitten." You released her breast, ready to beg her to let you stay but instead you gasped as her hands groped your tits with precision, using the grip to flip you onto your back.

In a matter of seconds you regained your bearings and saw the consideration in her eyes as she played with the straps of your swimsuit. Wanda watched you gulp down your anxiety before giving her the go ahead, she wasted no time pushing her hands up and out of the top so that she could pull the offensive piece down.

"Holy shit," she chuckled, clearly a bit shocked as she found not only were your nipples pierced but so was your belly button. "My sweet girl is a secret deviant?"

"I was a rebellious teen," you quietly admitted.

"Nothing to be ashamed about kitten," she reassured you within an instant, she saw you internally prepared to shy away though so she shared her own experience with rebellion. "Actually, believe it or not but mommy was too; used to have her lips and nose pierced."

You believed it easily, she was in a punk band...

"I would've loved to see that," you dream aloud and the gorgeous brunette chuckled as she kissed her way up your body until her lips found a home against yours. "I'm sure Pietro will grace you with the evidence."

You cried out at the realization, "Oh god, Natasha..."

Wanda grimaced, pulling back to glare softly as her head tilted naturally. "No more screaming others names... Actually, how about no more talking at all." You were seconds away from combusting, an apology on the tip of your stuttering tongue. "I-I'm s—oh fuck."

Wanda had quickly shushed your apologies as her svelte fingers slid through your lips, collecting the slick warmth from within as she parted them. Her emeralds shone with pure accomplishment and joy as your eyes closed. "Mhm, mommy prefers those sweet moans."

"Tell me honey," Wanda broke her rule again as her wet fingers lifted up to her moving lips. Her thoughts effectively paused as she tasted you for the first time. Wanda moaned around her digits and sucked them clean before she found herself hovering over you. "Do you think you're wet enough for my cock baby? Or do you need mommy's fingers to stretch you out first?"

The crude question made your heart beat out of time, you felt ready for her strap but the idea of her fingers inside of you sounded so appealing. It was actually your attraction to her hands that told Wanda her crush was far from unrequited. You weren't slick with the way you stared at her during your ceramics elective.

Your mind had faltered too, so your thoughts faded. Her eyes dilated at the sound of your pathetic mewl as the tip of her thick strap nudged at your tight hole. Her fingers pressed the crimson cock to the side so that her fingers could enter you instead. The spit that remained helped to ease her in alongside your decadent slick.

Wanda had already decided for you, and it just so happened that she too had fantasized about just how good you'd feel around her fingers. However, in your mind it would have been at a faster pace, Wanda wanted to take her time and really get to feel you.

Her fingers kept a steady pace until your moans had calmed into occasional mewls, then she slid back in and scissored your walls further apart, a third finger entered you as her thumb began to circle your clit. You had gasped against her face and Wanda felt powerful.

"M-more please," you whimpered hoarsely into her ear, her fingers entered back inside you just as you pleaded further, "Mommy please, let me cum!!" Wanda curled her fingers into your greatest depths and you came with a loud cry as she grunted hotly in your ear.

Her fingers continued to sensually stroke and prod at that rough, yet tender spot within your greatest depths just so she could continue to hear your sweet gasps of a drawn out pleasure. The throb between her own legs was only intensified as you begged for her to stop but also keep going in the same breath as your hips canted.

Wanda whispered something in Sokovian, you'd never know but she was cursing you for being so hypnotizing. No one had ever made her this needy for a release, her hips followed yours so she ripped her fingers from your core. A satisfied hum garbled by her fingers sounded off above as she once again licked her fingers clean.

"I can't wait to taste you from the source kitten," she practically squealed and you found her giddiness to be so intimate with you endearing. Her lips pressed into yours and her velvet smooth tongue slid over yours without so much as a bit of resistance. You sloppily kissed the woman until her strap slid into you halfway.

There was a noticeable burn at the rapid stretch but you whined in disappointment when she pulled out.

To fuck you into the mattress was a dream, sure, but Wanda had other dreams for tonight's fun. "Mommy needs you to ride my cock, pretty girl..." Your eyes had widened but Wanda faced the fear for you by kissing you distracted as her hands flipped your positions.

You landed on top of her with a hmph, and a soft glare as the woman peered down with a smug grin. "I can take it Y/N, you aren't going to hurt me, so hop on."

A shuddered breath left you as you faced the concern head on, lifting your body to hover her raised strap. Wanda nodded and held onto your hip with her free hand as you slowly sunk down. Your walls clenched hard, preventing you from sliding down further so she lifted her now free hand up to stroke your lip on the way up to play with your throbbing bundle. The burn faded into white hot pleasure and soon you bounced; vigorously moving your hips and stealing the air from the woman beneath you's lungs as her clit felt the pleasure every time your bounces provided pressure.

A particular press of the hilt into her clit drew a moan you knew she'd tried to keep buried within her chest. It was so vulnerable and incredibly attractive, so much so that your walls fluttered rapidly around her strap.

"You're close," the brunette grunted with certainty as she began to rock her hips in time to meet your drops, desperate not only for her own release but to see you fall apart above her. "So am I baby, I just—fuck, play with your tits for mommy, please, we'll cum together."

"There you go," she encouraged with a sultry glint in her eyes as her hips unconsciously sped up, her eyes raptly focused in on the way you squished 'em together before moving to pinch your pierced, sensitive nubs.

A guttural moan left the woman when your work paid off, her orgasm sent tingles of pleasure down her spine in a perfect curve. The wave directly ended with the rise of her hips and the subsequent fall of yours. Your pleasure gushed on out of you and drenched Wanda as your upper body lurched forward and her face wound up buried between your breasts that heaved wildly.

There was a sense of satisfaction that charged the air on both of your ends, but it also felt unfinished as you laid on your back, with Wanda's smiling face gazing up at you from between your breasts, a parallel to your earlier, swapped position. "What's on your mind?"

"Am I that obvious," she teased, knowing damn well that her eyes were still desperate for you. Her lips kissed the sides of your breasts as she began her descent, "you know what's coming, so brace yourself."

Even with the clear warning you couldn't help but to moan like a whore and bury your fingers into her hair. Your puffy, overused lips were already so sensitive that the use of her mouth was never needed but she would be damned if she didn't use her tongue to please you.

Wanda preferred to live life on an even keel so she didn't stop when your essence coated her throat, nor when it dripped down her chin or when you pushed her head, desperate for reprieve. No, the carnal need to keep you cumming was enough to keep her munching until you came for the sixth time and yanked her away.

There was no remorse on her glistening face as she peered up at you with a scrunched nose and smiled. "Sorry sweetheart, but you are just so delectable." As expected, you did not reply as you were lost inside your scrambled mind. Wanda perched herself up on her knees and admired your body as it continually jolted. Her hands felt the way that the muscles in your thighs quivered beneath her fingertips from the overexertion.

You'd been fucked into a state near comatose so for now the brunette decided it best to lay beside one another as you recomposed. With an arm slid beneath your waist and her fingers tenderly walking down your body, starting from your face and ending on your hip where she'd swirl her finger into a few shapes before she traced her fingers all the way back to your face.

"Welcome back," she giggled when your eyes cleared as her fingers lightly tapped over your temple. Your eyes narrowed and you huffed softly as you burrowed close. Wanda chuckled as you loudly yawned against the side of her neck then kissed the skin as your lips met. You nudged her until she was flat on her back and suckled, you were tired but also determined to show her a good time. "Honey, we need to clean up and get some rest."

"Please mommy," you croaked sadly, "I want to taste you, just one lick then we can get cleaned up, please."

Fuck. Wanda realized that she couldn't say no to you when you looked so beautiful, eyes glistening under the  bright lights of the room with a post orgasmic glow. At the sight of her nod you kissed down her body happily, making sure to bite down on the bruising skin. Her grip on the base of your neck grew reciprocal as you chose to use pain to arouse her further. You already knew her body so well, it was the best feeling ever.

With a loophole in your mind you kiss her lips, soft enough to not collect much slick to constitute a taste but more than enough to make her cry out weakly. Wanda had about half a mind to rip you away for playing her so well but then your tongue stroked up and down her walls, you had found another cheat.

To you, a lick logically only ended when the stroke faltered but much to her shock it hadn't, not even once.  Though tired you powered through, plunging your muscle in and out of her without the intention to stop. Once her thighs slammed shut you moved your lips up to her clit and rejoiced as she drenched your chin.

"I'd say you very well know what you're doing," she huffed amusedly as she caught your gaze on her face.

"I'm not even sorry," you giggled as you trailed her slick all over her sweaty torso on your way to her lips. Wanda chuckled hoarsely, "Neither am I kitten."

After the both of you took a second to breathe you stared deeply into the others eyes, Wanda cupped your cheek and scrunched her nose as she, in true sapphic fashion, spoke her premature desires into the world. "Y/N, you are the most beautiful human I've ever had the fortune of knowing. I know we haven't spoken much but I want you to know I feel in my heart that you are the person I'm meant to fall in love with."

You gulped, "like soulmates? You think we are?"

Wanda nodded with a grin. "Most definitely, you are the only one who has ever been allowed to taste me."

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull and she laughed boisterously at your shock; you were so cute.

"Are you serious?" Wanda nodded with a much more nervous smile. "So, when you hesitated, it was—."

"I really did want you to rest," she interrupted, "but then I saw the dark look in your eyes. They were so droopy and yet you wanted to please me in return."

"Has no one ever tried?" Wanda bit her lip at the question, it felt intrusive but she knew you meant well so she didn't deflect. "Not really. Just once but it felt wrong. I didn't want them to have the access to me."

You beamed with a sweet shine in your eyes, then you kissed her lips with a tenderness that made her smile. "Thank you for trusting me, and taking such good—."

Wanda cut your praise off with a deeper kiss, you lazily swirled your tongue with hers until she was satisfied.

"Don't ever thank me for doing anything for you," she commanded gently, "you deserve to be worshipped."

"I think we're soulmates too," you finally affirmed her prior notion and she looked at you shocked. She had never intended for you to share a response so soon after her aggressively-launched inquiry. But you did, and it was obviously heartwarming. "You're safe."

Wanda tightened her arms around you and just basked in the after glow of her dream come true for a bit. Then, when she felt you were about to drift off she sprung into action while she left you to take a cat nap.

When she returned to the room she lightly stroked your face until your eyes fluttered open. "I know you're tired love but we need to get cleaned up, come on." In a sleepy haze you accepted her hand and let her do it all. There was no visual recollection but you felt her every light touch and heard the sweet nothings as she took her time cleaning you both up to let your muscles soak.

Eventually you two made it back to bed after sharing a water bottle and a container of fruit and nuts that Wanda had snuck to the kitchen to steal for you both. Now you two were perfectly wrapped up together.

Neither of you were too familiar with love, the both of you having spent most of your adult life single, but it's something you felt budding as you melted into her. The brunette was far too content to sleep, with you on her chest her wildest dream had come true, so she was afraid if her eyes took the risk that you'd be gone. Then she felt your soft breaths, and her own exhaustion rise, her extensive exertion caught up to her quickly. Eyes of green trailed over your form once more before closing.

"Oh god," Yelena's voice cracked as she spoke through the door. "I can smell the nefarious things you did."

Wanda rolled her eyes, there was nothing cruel about the way she just made love to your body, but of course the blonde would make your encounter devilish. For a moment Wanda just ignored her presence, pretending to be asleep but Yelena was just too damn intuitive.

"Wanda Maximoff," she sang tauntingly, "We know you are definitely not sleeping. You are probably too busy staring at Y/N with love-sick puppy dog eyes."

Wanda threw the alarm clock that neither of you would use at the door and groaned when all the blonde did was laugh maniacally "Exactly, you are so whipped."

Her voice was strained, "What do you want Belova?"

"Natasha said she doesn't care if you are mid-fuck, the both of you better get dressed and join the bonfire."

At just the mention of Natasha your head popped up, you glared intensely out the window, Wanda giggled.

"Does someone want revenge?" You groaned and put your face back in the safety of Wanda's neck. The way you grumbled incoherently against her skin only made her laugh harder, the sensation having tickled her.

Then the pressure changed, you were no longer talking but instead you were suckling on her skin, returning the favor of visibly marking her until she moaned.

"Okay," Yelena chuckled nervously, "I do not want to have to hear the sinning, take this visit as a warning."

You rolled your eyes this time, knowing the truth to her words which made you pull away. Wanda could see the reluctance in your expression and it made her melt. To see you were eager for a round two focused on her was enough to make her want to ignore Natasha's threats.

It was never up to her though as you got up, Russian curses directed at redhead nothing short of amusing. Even though you presented as grumpy, the woman knew deep down that the meddling Russian sisters were the closest thing to family that you had. So, you rushing to get dressed wasn't in fear of the redheads daunting arrival, but more so you wanting to see her.

To thank her for the push, which you did moments later after the both of you arrived. You led Wanda to a chair big enough for two and left the brunette with a timid kiss, aware that all your friends were there. Tony went to tease you but was stopped by Wanda's glare.

"I'd rather watch this anyway," he chuckled as he turned away from your terrifying girlfriend. Wanda followed his gaze and couldn't help but to laugh, you were chasing Nat around the rough sand on wobbly legs, which only spurred her taunting on tenfold.

Once you caught up to her you tackled the redhead, nobody could hear you two anymore, but they could see you were mercilessly tickling the woman. After a torturous minute she called uncle and you both stood, her hand shook yours in a truce that relaxed you, but then she smirked and leaned in closer to taunt you.

"You're welcome for the fun," her eyes were swirling with mischief as they fell to the side of your neck. "Who knew the group's favorite nun in training had it in her."

"Bite me," you shot back and her eyes sparkled at the ease of her next tease, "Looks like Wanda already did."

Natasha cackled the whole way back to the group as she jogged to her seat to escape your next attack. It wasn't going to deter you though, sand flew from beneath your feet as you neared the group in a rush.

Two seconds before you could reach her though you felt your body being yanked down by what you believed to be gravity, but then you felt softness beneath you.

Wanda had shamelessly pulled you into her lap, she was sat with her legs crossed, and her eyes bore a playfulness to them alongside a bit of sternness. The entire group watched the way you settled, no words needed to be exchanged as you cuddled into her side. The brunette kissed your forehead, then followed it up with a peck to your nose and a languid one to your lips.

"Wow! The beast has been tamed," Tony cheered, the group of your friends giggled loudly and you frowned.

"Careful how you speak of my girl Tony," Wanda said with a tone that dripped with a warning, her eyes not even moving away from yours as she defended you. The sexual energy that oozed off the the two of you was always there, but the visible marks had never been.

Tony sighed at the direct confirmation, "I vote we remove them from the bet," drawing the both of your attention back to your friends who were anxiously sat.

Your tone was clearly confused, "The bet?"

"Catch up kid," the billionaire shot at you, you were just about to remind him you were older but he just continued on being a douchebag, "It was no secret you and the practicing witch would bone this trip. So, as opportunists we all bet on what night it might happen."

You looked to your family with a glare, "Nat? Lena?"

The sisters shrugged while their outstretched hands were collecting the hundreds. "It was an inevitability Y/N Y/L/N, so we obviously made it profitable."

You flipped the blonde off, then the redhead next. The bulk of your friends chuckled when they saw you try to shy away from their gaze by burrowing into Wanda. Everyone was more than thrilled to see you smile like that, all soft and obviously lovestruck for the woman and the brunette adored that you found comfort in her.

"It's okay detka," Wanda coo'd lovingly into your ear, with one hand on your back to soothe you while the other reached out to accept her cut of the bet money. "I'm sure our friends here will pay for our date..."

Tony gasped, but his rebuttal died on his tongue as your smirking girlfriend tilted her head a fraction to the right, her fingers wiggled and the man would swear for years to come he saw a flash of red spark at the tips.

Wanda smirked at the man before her lips fell into something softer as she regarded your sleeping form. Her gaze slowly drifted up to the pair of sisters to her right who stared at her intently. Natasha smiled at her, and in that moment they came to a silent agreement. All your sister by claim wanted was for you to be happy and taken care of, something Wanda promised with a nod. Natasha easily fell back into conversation after.

Yelena however had a much different approach as she glared at the brunette with all the contempt she had within. "Prichini yey bol', i ty umresh', muchitel'no."

(Hurt her and you die, painfully.)

This time, Natasha didn't jab her sister in the hip and Wanda didn't test her chances, she merely nodded.

——

The following morning came with disorientation on your end as you woke up to the sound of a muted buzz. Your mind was still lightyears behind your ears though so you subconsciously thought it was the yardmen on your campus as per usual. Then you felt a body pressed into your sore one and you remembered. You were halfway across the world, entangled with your crush.

It wasn't a fever dream but a glorious reality...

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to see Wanda asleep, with her lips pursed and nose pressed into your chest, the noise from before now had an official source. You wanted to giggle at her, but you merely rolled your eyes and softly cursed your best friend. "Chertov lzhets."

(Fucking liar...)

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed. 

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

*

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?” 

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here? 

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases. 

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation. 

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight. 

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears. 

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later. 

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat. 

You swallow, once, an unsure thing. 

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,�� Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation. 

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end. 

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own. 

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence. 

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room. 

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right. 

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone. 

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading. 

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all &lt;3

[bunnyreaper]

does your husband know?

pairing - john price x f!reader wc - 1k warnings - implied cheating, established relationship, hotel sex, dom/sub undertones, sex against a window, dirty talk, kink exploration, 18+ notes - a little price ficlet as a treat to myself, read on ao3!!

"Fuck, love. How long has it been?"

His hands enclose yours on the glass pane, his fingers weaving between yours as your wedding ring gleams in the moonlight. Hard, clothed hips are pressed against your bare skin, pinning and exposing you to anyone who might look up into the hotel window.

John's breath is hot in your ear, sending shivers down your spine before he chases them with kisses.

"I don't, I don't know, too long—" You babble, already out of your mind with the feelings your lover is pulling out of you, unraveling you as he always does.

"What kind of husband leaves his wife so fucking desperate?" He smiles devilishly, recalling the desperate look you'd given him across the hotel bar, how easy it had been for him to charm you. "You were practically begging for me. Gagging for it, weren't you?"

One of his hands releases, trailing its way to your neck—not choking, but just holding you, as his lips attach to the weak spot behind your ear and you cry out.

John undoes you with ease, each touch electrifying. Even if it hadn't been so long, you'd still be crying out for him with every cell in your body.

You whimper and whine as he pulls away momentarily, though your arousal flares as you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of his clothes.

He's so close. So close to being inside you.

"I need—" You squirm, pushing your hips back as your body begs for him, you couldn't hide your need for him if you tried, not that you'd ever want to.

"I know what you need." He purrs, his voice making you shake. He guides his swollen cock through your wet folds, taunting you with his thickness as he coats himself.

What you need is right there, brushing over your hole, nudging at your clit. John already moves expertly, one of his hands falling to your hip to hold you perfectly in place, to hold you exactly where he needs you. "Need a man who can take care of you. Don't worry, I'm right here."

Without any more teasing or taunting, he pushes his thick cock inside you in one swift movement, filling you to the brim and making your back arch. It burns, and then his dick is kissing the tip of your cervix, and you're lost in the pain and the pleasure of it all—the stretch, the push. John is exactly where he belongs, and you flutter around him helplessly as you welcome him home.

"God, you're so fucking tight." He works himself deeper, molds you once more to his size, gets you used to him all over again. "Gonna stretch you out so good, sweetheart."

You're already a whimpering mess, pleasure coursing through you as your conscious thoughts slip away. The second John touches you, it gets hard to think, hard to even breathe.

But his next words have you gasping at the air, desperately trying to retain your grip on reality as it all becomes too much.

"I'll fuck you 'till you forget your husband's name." He punctuates his words by beginning with a relentless pace, already fucking all thoughts of that pretty little head of yours.

"Please…" You plead, your voice sounding so unlike your usual self, so desperate—but you're always desperate for him.

His hand snakes round to your front, two calloused fingers working in circles around your slick clit. The only reason you're still standing is John's body slamming you into the glass, his hand around your neck holding you upright. "This married cunt is mine, isn't that right, love?"

"Yes, John, yes. It's yours. I'm yours." Your words are a mindless chant, a mantra of worship to this man that fucks like a god and takes you to a higher plane.

His groans join yours in filling the room, each gruff vocalisation making you shiver further. The feel of his hot breath against your skin, his fingers working in your wetness, the sound of his pleasure-wracked voice—it's almost too much, and yet he doesn't stop talking you through it.

"Missed you while I was away. Couldn't stop thinking about filling you up, hearing you moan my name." He growls, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, deeper. He's desperate, too, lost in you in the same way you're lost in him.

"Been too long, not gonna last, love. Gonna make you shake again first, though." His fingers work faster, urging you closer and closer to the edge he promises.

Slick sounds echo around, the sound of skin against skin, those groans again. Your eyes are focused on your reflections, seeing John's brow furrow in pleasure and watching as he grits his teeth, mutters out a strangled fuck. His hand tightens around your neck as he bounces you off his length with reckless abandon.

He's perfect, and in this moment, he's everything you've been missing

"I'm close." You pant, breath fogging up the glass.

His eyes meet yours in the reflection—a hard, intent, possessive stare. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock."

Your eyes screw shut, pleasure snapping through you as you're fucked relentlessly through your peak—John's groans escalate as he finishes inside you, pumping you full of his cum as you shake in his hold.

His forehead comes to rest against your shoulder as the two of you breathe in sync, coming down from your high together as one.

His arms wrap around you as he maneuvers you to the bed, softly laying you atop the sheets as he stares down at you lovingly, his cum dripping down your thighs.

"Missed you." You sigh contentedly, a fiercely radiant smile on your face, only for him.

"Missed you too, love." He presses a kiss to your forehead before starting to strip off his clothes. The shirt, trousers, and boots are tossed aside, leaving him in his underwear—his dog tags hanging over his furry chest, his ring shining brightly beside the dulled silver.

He climbs onto the bed next to you, stroking your face with a serene tenderness. "That neglectful husband of yours, huh." He says with a smirk.

"At least he's here now." You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his, relishing his taste after so long without it. Everything is duller when John's away, but with him back, he paints the world back into colour with every brush of his fingers across your cheek. "Hotel was a nice touch, really added to the fantasy."

His grin is cheeky, devilish. The scenario was his idea—tempting you away from your absent husband, giving him everything that man can't. It couldn't be further from the truth. As you lay here next to John, his attention solely on you, you could live forever on the high it brings.

His fingers entwine with yours one more time, as he fiddles with the ring he put on your finger just over a year ago. "Nothing but the best for my wife."

[captainwans]

FROM WHERE YOU ARE.

— ALEX TURNER

pairing: alex turner x fem! actress! reader

summary: while she didn’t care about the distance between them, alex couldn’t help but feel responsible for her exhaustion from traveling this far, especially when the distance was longer.

warning: mild swearing, matt being a tease, and nothing but sweet rotting fluff, friends to lovers trope!

word count: 3,9k | ( gif not mine! )

arabella series!

masterlist!

…. [Y/N]’S SHOES CLANKED ON THE HARD WOODEN FLOOR, THE SOUND OF HER HEELS ECHOING ACROSS THE HALL AS SHE PACED WITH HER STEPS. Much to her dismay, the actress was late and missed the concert, and to say that she was devastated was an understatement. She spent the last three hours on a train trying to get there, which was something she wouldn’t tell Alex. Knowing him he would’ve lost his mind and attempted to drive her back himself. She received a sweet message from him, reassuring her that it was not a problem at all and that he was just happy that he was going to see her again. Her cheeks flushed at his message and she read it multiple times, his words planted inside her mind like a mantra.

The pair had been inseparable ever since she was cast as the lead woman in their music video, Arabella, not to mention an inspiration behind the song itself. With her oblivious nature, she had no idea whatsoever. But, what better way than to announce this at a Comic-Con panel in front of thousands of people

She remembered being caught off guard by this question, not expecting to get questions regarding other aspects of her life other than Marvel-related questions. She did answer, though, stating that she had no idea with a sheepish look. Her comment made the crowd react, even her cast members gave her weird looks due to the song's popularity. At that moment, she made a mental note to listen to the song right after the event.

[Y/N] was awe-struck, not only by the song but also by how his voice conveyed a range of different vocals. She recalled pondering over some familiarity in his voice, feeling that she had heard his voice somewhere before but couldn't pinpoint exactly where. The lyrics of Arabella made her ears perk up with curiosity, being impressed by the small details that could only be referred to from the movie she shot. She fell in love with the song and his voice. His delicate voice and poetic words were the only things that were blasting through the speakers in her trailer, annoying the rest of her cast members.

“[Y/N], would you please turn it down, some of us have to sleep,” The Black Widow actress pleaded, her tone tinted with annoyance as she slowly entered inside her trailer. She watched [Y/N]’s cheeks redden, muttering a small apology before lowering the volume.

“Sorry, Scar, it won’t happen, again.” she sheepishly said, adjusting her glasses that rested on her delicate features whilst her eyes trailed over her script that was placed into her hands. She watched her friend from the corner of her eyes, feeling her presence behind her.

“Arctic Monkeys? Oh, was that the boyband that wanted you in their music video?” Scarlett asked her, eyes sparkling as her eyes looked at her computer screen. She took a look at the group, eyes lingering longer on the lead vocalist. She chuckled, giving her friend a knowing look. “I see why you’re so hooked, look at him,” she poked her waist, making [Y/N] squirm as her lips emitted a small squeak.

“Scarlett–please, stop!” she whined, slapping her hand away before shifting in her seat to make room for her to sit, which she happily obliged. A tint of dust painted her cheeks, lips curving up unknowingly when the lyrics of one of her favorite songs so far, played in the background.

“But I crumble completely when you cry,” Alex’s voice filled inside her eardrums, making her let out a content sigh as she looked down at the script that she was supposed to memorize. She had been stuck on a line for the past fifteen minutes, and she blamed it on his voice. It was addicting—like a drug and she couldn’t resist.

[Y/N] smiled, putting her papers on the table in front of her before turning her attention to her friend, who was nodding her head to the music, her eyes narrowed and focused. She chuckled as she watched Scarlett make a face, signaling that she liked what she was hearing. “They’re very good. I don’t know why you haven’t said yes.”

She grinned, rubbing the back of her neck before she laid her head on her shoulder. “They’re amazing, Scar. And I said yes. I’m gonna be meeting with them in a week. We’re actually gonna film a few hours away from the set, meaning that I can tell you everything about it.” she chimed, eyes crinkling from smiling.

Scarlett clapped with a bright smile, expressing her support for her. She hugged her best friend, squeezing her tight. “I’m so happy for you. This is so exciting. Alex is gonna lose his mind over your beauty, I mean look at you, girl. Heck–even I would risk it all for you.” she told her with a wink, making [Y/N] burst out in laughter as they leaned into each other.

She cursed at herself, mumbling incoherent words as she was looking for Alex and Miles, holding her phone up to her face whilst she was trying to read the address Alex sent her. She squinted her eyes and blinked a few times to shake away her exhaustion, the never-ending filming and traveling resting on her shoulders. The three-hour ride seemed to be her last straw before she could collapse at any second, but she had her painkillers and a few cups of coffee to keep her up, for a while.

The sound of Alex’s laughter seemed to cease some of her drowsy state and she fastened her pace, her feet leading her to one of the waiting rooms backstage. She scoffed with a chuckle, listening to Miles’ banter and his comment made her roll her eyes. She cleared her throat, bringing her hand to the door and giving it a little push as she made an appearance.

“I heard that, Miles!” [Y/N]’s voice echoed across the room, earning a cheerful laugh from the latter, along with the rest of them as she made an appearance with a playful expression toward the singer, who put his guitar away and dashed toward her with a beaming grin. “Speaking of the devil. Hello, love.”

[Y/N]’s chest vibrated from laughter and sank into his embrace, patting his back. “It’s good to see you, Miles. Sorry, I couldn’t make it to the concert to watch you live, but I watched it on my phone. You guys were incredible, as always.” she gushed, pulling away as she mirrored his grin.

Miles gave her a look of gratitude, kissing her forehead. “It’s alright, [Y/N],” he brushed her off with a gentle squeeze on her bicep. He brought her to his side again, side-hugging her before leading her to the rest of the team. “Please, if we’re speaking about a performance, you killed it in the Winter Soldier.” she heard Jamie say, earning a few nods and chimes at his statement.

Crimson danced across her cheeks, making her move her gaze away from Miles to the others in the room, some lazily spread across the couch and others standing beside the food table. Her smile widened, noticing the rest of the band, and her eyes shamelessly searched for a certain vocalist but were abruptly interrupted by being pulled into another embrace by Jamie, Nick, and Matt, who squeezed her making her let out a choked laugh.

“Oh, I’ve missed you guys so much!”

“Don’t squeeze her to death, lads,” Alex’s voice filled her ears, causing her heart to skip a beat, feeling the rush of blood through her ears. Her muffled giggles were enough to put a soft smile on Alex’s handsome features, watching her pull away from the group before turning her body around to meet him.

[Y/N] let out a content sigh, a gentle smile reaching her features before launching herself into his arms, her arms around his waist as she hid her face onto his chest. She felt exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave, making her feel drowsy, and she closed her eyes for a second to feel his arms around her.

Alex felt his cheeks flush, being self-aware by the looks the others were giving them, but that soon disappeared when she gently squeezed his waist, her hands rubbing his back comfortably. “Hello, gorgeous,” he whispered into her ear, brushing a hand over her hair as he closed his eyes, taking in her scent.

The pair pulled away, both smiling ridiculously at each other, but that moment was shortly interrupted by Miles who made gagging sounds, earning laughs from the others. “Take it somewhere else, love birds. You guys are disgustingly cute, it makes me wanna gag,” he whined, gripping his guitar before taking a seat beside Nick.

[Y/N] scoffed, a frown etched onto her features as she pulled Alex closer to her side. She felt his hands caressing her waist, gently rubbing circles around her skin. “Like you’re the one to talk. You get to have him all by yourself on the stage. Yeah, I’ve seen the videos, Miles.” she sassed back, making Alex burst out in laughter, his chest vibrating.

Miles’ face reddened, making him shake his head with laughter. Nick, who was beside him, was dying of laughter and pushed him to the side. “Touche, love.”

[Y/N] giggled, eyes turning back to Alex, whose eyes were already on her, staring at her lovingly. She bit her lip, eyes darting across his lips before shyly diverting her gaze away. He watched her turning her attention back to the others, having a conversation with Matt and his girlfriend, Breana, who came in a little late and became ecstatic when she saw her presence.

She was sitting at the edge of the couch, her body turned across the others who were comfortably sitting on the other couch while Alex was standing beside her, practically leaning against her, which she didn’t mind at all, enjoying his close presence with his hand playing with the hem of her cardigan.

[Y/N] felt a sudden bursting pain at the back of her skull, searing through her temples making her grimace with a look of discomfort. She clenched her jaw with furrowed eyebrows, eyes focusing on Breana, but as the minutes passed her voice became fainter, along with the rest of the room. As much as she tried to hold it in, her tiredness stole the character from her eyes, leaving them blank and hollow.

“And it was a really important moment for me, you know…” Breana’s voice echoed inside her ears, making her squint her eyes before placing a hand on her temples, feeling her sides throbbing rather aggressively.

“I didn’t know her story took that of a toll on you,” Matt spoke, watching her friend covering a hand on her face, earning a few chuckles. Breana laughed, placing a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry if my stories bore you out, babe, I’ll shut up.” she joked, squeezing her arm making her wince at the spot where she accidentally landed on her arm when filming a scene.

[Y/N] chuckled from the pain, feeling the spot burning. She felt guilt prickling at her chest, making her look up to her friend, giving her an apologetic smile. “You never bore me, Bre,” she told her sheepishly, standing up from her seat to get her bag to get her painkillers. “Sorry…It’s just uh–” she let out a weary sigh, a sound with the heavy weight of exhaustion bubbling up the surface, making her stop talking as she forgot what she was about to say in the first place.

Alex, who had been eying her for a while, was the first one to speak. “Are you alright, love?” he asked with a concerned look, reaching out to her as she watched her halt with her steps. He grunted at the sudden weight of her body falling against him, and his frown deepened when he felt her shallow and ragged breathing. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just need to sit down, that’s all,” she reassured, leading them both back towards the couch, making Miles and Nick shoot up from their seat to make some room for the duo.

Breana’s eyebrows furrowed with concern and she kneeled in front of her, her warm hands resting on her neck, brushing a few hair strands away from her damp forehead. “[Y/N], babe, do you need some water?” she softly asked, her voice getting smaller, as if she spoke any louder she would break at any second.

Matt stood up from his seat, “I’ll get her some water.”

[Y/N] squeezed her eyes shut, fingers rubbing her tired eyes as the buzzing inside her head filled every crack of her brain, rattling every bone making her let out a shaky exhale. “Yes, I–I, uh…I have some painkillers inside my bag..” she stuttered out, feeling her cheeks flush as she looked at her friend with a sheepish look.

Alex turned in his seat, his eyes searching for her bag. His hand grabbed the hold of her purse, his hands roaming inside to look for her painkillers. Matt returned and opened the lid of the water bottle, giving it to his girlfriend, which she took and looked back at Alex to see him holding a pill.

“I’m sorry, guys. This is embarrassing…” [Y/N] said in a soft tone, her voice turning smaller as she accepted the water from Breana’s hands before turning to Alex and taking the painkiller from his hands. Her hands took hold of the small pill, her hands lingering for a moment before clutching her hand and downing the pill with water. She felt him shift, one of his hands resting on her thigh, rubbing small circles to cease some of her pain.

Nick frowned, standing behind her. “For being under the weather? [Y/N], there’s no need to apologize,” he reassured, patting her shoulders with a comforting smile.

Jamie nodded his head with a thoughtful expression, “Yeah, I mean, your job is no better than us. I can’t imagine filming all day on set and—” he trailed off, but once he looked at Alex’s glare his mouth closed and he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

[Y/N]’s lips curved upwards at his apology and she shook her head with a small smile. “Don’t sweat it.” she gently brushed him off and took a few sips before placing the bottle on the table in front of her. “You’re not wrong though. We’ve been filming intensively these past few weeks and staying up all night with the others to perfect the script. I haven’t really got the time to do anything else outside filming and I missed you guys–” she voiced her thoughts before Matt interjected with one of his cheeky remarks.

“Guys? I think that applies to only one person, and he’s sitting beside you right now.” Matt chimed, his eyes sparkling with a tint of mischief. This earned a slap on his shoulder, and he hissed looking at Breana, who gave him a disapproving look. “Oh, way to ruin the moment, Matthew.”

Alex’s heart stuttered against his chest, feeling blood rushing through his cheeks as he looked at [Y/N] with his lips curving upwards. His smile soon turned into a look of annoyance at the fact that his bandmate interrupted her and he let out a sigh. “Shut up, you dickhead. Let her talk.” he bluntly said, his brown eyes piercing through Matt’s, making him put his hand up in surrender with the same grin etched onto his features.

Alex’s comment made the others burst out in laughter, including [Y/N] who turned around in her seat to look at him, her chest vibrating with laughter, making him join her, her laughter being music to his ears. She grabbed his bicep, giving it a little squeeze before clearing her throat. She wiped a lone tear away from her eyes and chuckled. “Thank you, Al. Wait, what were we talking about again?” she contemplated, closing one eye in deep thought, and making Breana laugh.

Miles, who sat across from the pair, played a soft tune on his guitar before asking her. “Since, we’re talking about your job, where’s your set located in? I know Alex told me you were filming near this area..?”

[Y/N] bit her lip with a nod, internally cursing at how her white lie had come this far and she definitely didn’t want to say that it was three hours, knowing that Alex would lose his mind for traveling this far to get here. She remembered Scarlett teasing her and gushing about her heart eyes towards him, calling her a lovesick puppy.

“Oh, you’re in love, honey. It’s so cute. You’re like a lovesick puppy. But I must say…this look—” Scarlett stopped mid-sentence, gesturing with her hand, making [Y/N] want to roll her eyes. “It looks good on you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah…uh–It’s located in…” she trailed off, mumbling the rest of her sentence in a hushed tone and covered it up with a forced cough.

Miles frowned, leaning his body against his guitar as he moved his head toward her. “What? I didn’t hear what you said there, love.” she gave him a sheepish grin, heat washed over as crimson danced across her cheeks. She felt Alex inch closer, almost feeling his breath against her neck making her breath hitch. She grew hot and cleared her throat, name-dropping the location, which made Miles’ eyes wide.

“Isn’t that three hours away from here?” Nick, Matt, and Breana nodded to confirm his question, making [Y/N] close her mouth, feeling her heartbeat inside her ears. She licked her lips, feeling Alex’s burning gaze on her and she turned around to meet with his confused expression.

Alex looked back and forth from Miles and to [Y/N], his frown deepening. “Three hours? Didn’t you tell me that it was half an hour from here?” He questioned, and her chest prickled at the sound of his voice.

The rest looked at each other, a look of amusement plastered onto their faces as they watched the pair. Matt was leaning into Jamie, who looked at the couple with a grin and Breana could sense another remark coming from her boyfriend and she slapped his arm, giving him a warning look.

[Y/N] gave him a tip-lipped smile, eyes looking anywhere than him. “I did? Oh well..” she admitted, giving him a small shrug, and Alex looked at her like she had grown two heads.

Alex shook his head, his face turning into a deep scowl. His stomach clenched at the fact that she was traveling this long to see him. He could also feel his heart flutter at her commitment, but that soon faded away as his mind went back to her current state. He inched closer, his rough calloused hands grabbed her arm, gently squeezing it. “No, wait. Hold on a second. You’re telling me that you drove three hours to come here, and you’re planning on driving back?”

[Y/N] tilted her head to the side, giving him another shrug. “So?” she replied back, not seeing his point and she gave him a look to elaborate with a hand gesture. This made the others erupt into another pit of laughter, gushing over how adorable [Y/N] was and Matt couldn’t help but crawl over to Alex, making kissing sounds and grabbing his shoulders. “You two are so adorable!”

Alex jerked away from his touch and cursed at him, his annoyance bubbling up through the surface. He stood up from the couch, leading [Y/N] with him as they walked over to the food table. “Can’t even get a fucking break..” he mumbled under his breath, but enough for her to hear and she stifled back a laugh.

Her gaze diverted away from the others toward Alex, watching him leaning against the table as he gave his bandmate a look of disdain. Her eyes softened, feeling her chest tighten as her mind went back to the conversation a few moments ago. She crossed her arms like two swords, inching closer to him. “It’s really not a big deal, Al. We planned this, remember? It was the only day that fit our schedule.” she reminded him with a nudge on his hip, earning a small smile from the singer.

Alex looked at her, his eyes lingering on her face as he memorized every detail. He clenched his jaw, bringing a hand over his mouth before voicing his thoughts. “I know, I just…don’t want it to go over at the expense of your health. You could’ve just told me that you weren’t feeling well, and I would’ve understood that, darling.” he shared, his expression turning into a concerned look.

[Y/N]’s eyes danced, mirroring the swarm of butterflies inside her stomach as she looked at him with a fond expression. She hummed with a simper. “I know.” she sheepishly replied with a nod, hiding her hands inside her oversized cardigan and looking up at him. What she was going to do next even surprised her and she wondered where she got that confidence from. “But…I wanted to see you. Traveling for me is not a problem, heck–I could fly out here just to see you, even if it’s for a few minutes.” she expressed, her brave moment instantly disappearing as she realized what she just said out loud, leaving her a complete stuttering mess.

Alex caught his breath at her words, his brain trying to process what just came out of her delicate lips that he craved so for a taste. His lips curved upwards unknowingly, his eyes tinted with slight amusement at her stuttering mess. “Shit, did I just say that out loud?” he bit his lip with a nod, a smirk etched onto his features as he came closer.

“Yeah, and I’m so glad that you said it.” [Y/N]’s smile widened, inching closer to reach out, removing a few hair strands away from his face. Her hand lightly brushed his jaw, fingers lingering on his skin, slowly moving down to his lips.

Alex closed his eyes for a second, melting at her soft and gentle touch. His hand hovered over hers, placing her hand on his chest and intertwined their hands. Before he could let out a word, his bandmates interrupted yet another sweet moment of the pair, and that seemed to hit the last nerve for Alex. A chorus of “aww” echoed across the room and the pair looked at them, noticing they had an audience.

Breana gave her friend an apologetic look before standing up and taking a hold of Matt’s shirt to drag him out of Alex’s sight, but the lead vocalist was faster and he bolted towards him, making Matt let out a loud cackle as he chased him out of the room, leaving the rest with another session of laughter. “Get back here, you little shit!”

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add.

Proud podium sitter for thousands of times.

Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard.

And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point. Disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed despite dad's efforts to stay afloat.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring warmth of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Next

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

[tojisun]

kinktober — 20: edging

jake sully x omatikaya fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cervix penetration

kinktober mlist

jake has been at it for hours now, you think. 

time has slipped past your mind, leaving you trembling with the drawl of pleasure that he loved to rip from you; letting it build over and over, driving your pleasure to its peak, almost tipping over, only for him to stop. 

you screamed and wailed at each turn, thrashing on his hold, but jake is resolute in his pursuit of ruining you. resolute in making you feel the drags of unobtainable euphoria. 

you shouldn’t have trusted him, you think to yourself as you blink your eyes close when his cock slips out of you once again – you’ve lost count of how many rounds have passed.

it was jake who asked you to try it out, after all – this tawtute lovemaking. 

(“lemme edge you out, my sweet,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your skin, kissing and nipping. marking. 

“okay,” you told him, mind hazy from his wandering lips. “please make me feel good.”

he pulled back just enough to flash you the dangerous grin that tickles his lips at hearing your words, his fangs glinting amidst the darkness in your guys’ secret place – a product of your shared desire to slink somewhere private. somewhere where date nights could be fulfilled.

“i promise,” he said.)

like a fucking liar.

“jake, please. please,” you hiccup, eyes unfocused from the intensity of the stimulation he’s put you through, feeling the way your skin buzzed, engulfed by uncharted flames of ecstasy.

but jake just slaps his cock on the damp lips of your cunt, smirking even when his eyes have thinned to golden rings, his chest heaving from his own lack of release. 

“shh, yawne,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and rugged. “not yet.”

not yet – you are quickly getting tired of those words. 

he’s been repeating them since the teasing started, pressing the words either on the swell of your breasts or muffling them on the crook of your neck, his nose buried in the most sensitive expanse of your skin where your scent lay the strongest. it was a mantra that drove you crazy, reducing you into trembling with need.

you sob, rubbing your fists against your wet eyes, but jake just croons, teasing, and drags the heavy weight of his cock along your slit and into your entrance once more, slapping the head of it against your hardened nub once, two times, before he breaches past the tender skin and fills you up to the hilt again. 

you howl, pleasure razing your sanity, feeling its tendrils drag from the core of your heat to the bottom of your spine. your eyes roll to the back of your skull when you feel jake’s hand pressing down on your belly, rumbles of elation rippling from his throat. 

“i’m back here again, paskalin,” he whispers, his voice edging into something possessive. “can you feel just how deep i am?”

you grit through the dizzying pleasure to give him a weak nod, your toes curling when jake pulls out only to slam back in, fucking you with a broken tempo. he loves doing this – dragging out his cock in slow strokes, making you feel the entirety of its length, only to punch it into your cunt, the leaking head of it kissing so deep in you. 

“jake, wanna- ah! wanna cum!” you beg even though you know it will be fruitless. because you know him, you know your lover who is too stubborn and playful and selfish. you know that he will drag this on until you are voiceless from crying and your body is trembling uncontrollably.

because it hurts and the hurt is so good.

and jake laughs, a mean and crooning sound ripping from the base of his throat, because he knows. 

he meets your teary gaze and says, “not yet.”

tags: @pandoraslxna @stargirlrchive @plooto @liwooa

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Blind Love Chapter 25 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there

As if time had stopped, the conservatory remained quiet and peaceful.

Moonlight filtered through the soot-stained holes of the ceiling, creating a soft halo around Kate’s hair.

I had brought Kate to the place where I hung out with Alec to show her a “certain something”.

Roger: Wait. I’m positive I left it around here somewhere…

I pulled out several folded sheets of paper from an envelope that was hidden under a flower pot.

Kate: …A letter.

Roger: Like I said, Alec left me a letter before he died. I really wanted to keep it close to me, but… I didn’t want to get stuck in memories.

I didn’t need that childish desire to get lost in memories when I had to deal with fighting against despair every day.

Kate: …You’ve already read it so many times that you don’t need it with you.

Roger: Huh?

(...How did you know?)

Kate: The letter. It’s wrinkled and worn.

I handed Kate, who had always been kind and showed concern for others since we met, the letter.

Roger: Hm

Kate: …Can I read it?

Roger: Since it’s you, I want you to read it.

I wanted Kate to know the secret I’ve been keeping to myself.

Kate: Thank you…

“To my little friend, Roger”—that’s how the letter started.

It then went on about how if anything happened to Alec, he wanted me to forget about him and the research on the Cursed he had done here. And—

“Hey, Roger. The world we live in is very cruel, isn’t it.

It’s full of things beyond our control and our hearts bleed out just by being alive.

But I also think the world we live in is beautiful.

The sky’s blue when you look up, the birds sing, and sometimes someone will find hope that’s like a miracle.

The world is cruel, yet endlessly beautiful.

That’s why the world is worth living in and fighting against despair for.

My dear little friend, you will no doubt encounter despair in the future. However, don’t let yourself be defeated.

Your life will always be beautiful.”

Kate looked up at me from the letter, her gaze sweet and gentle.

Roger: Those words saved me, and I’ve been living by them my whole life. With those words, I’ll be fine. I can fight against despair even when I’m by myself. I’m strong, I won’t be defeated, I won’t be lonely, I won’t let my soul rot, and I’ll fulfill my ambition. That’s been my mantra until I met you.

Kate: …Huh?

The way Kate blinked in confusion was so adorable that I found myself smiling.

I didn’t want to succumb to my curse, so I always repeated to myself “I won’t be a traitor” as if to fight against my “betrayal” curse.

However.

Roger: I’ve always claimed that I’d never betray anyone, but maybe I’ve…been betraying my own heart.

(Stubbornly saying “I won’t be a traitor” may have been a way for me to ignore my true feelings)

(I’m almost sure)

Roger: Deep down in my heart, I’ve been searching. For someone I could laugh with by my side.

(Kate became my dog, assistant, partner, and then lover)

Roger: Someone to chase after my ambitions with.

(Kate is with me now)

Roger: Someone to snap me out of it when I’m falling into despair.

(Like the time she yelled at me in jail, I think…No, I don’t think I’ll ever forget about it)

Roger: Someone to teach me that, even if love’s pointless, it’s the best.

(This unidentifiable feeling called love definitely exists between us)

Roger: That “someone”—there’s no one else but you, Kate.

(Kate, I don’t want anyone else but you)

Kate: …

Roger: …I won’t find anyone else in the world.

I loved how Kate looked when she tried to hold back her tears.

Roger: Pfft…haha. What’s with that cute face?

Kate: As you can see, I’m trying to hold back my tears!

Roger: A~ah, I can’t take you seriously when you’re barking like that.

Roger: Pfft…Alright, alright. Hang in there.

Kate: Please stop talking already…

Kate looked up, trying to stop the tears from pooling at the corner of her eyes. But—

Roger: Not gonna. I still got something to say to you. ‘Til now, I’ve been saying some pretty words with love, but… My main reason is that “I” enjoy being with you.

Kate: …

(“I” only wanna be with you. Until the day I stop breathing)

When Kate blinked in surprise, the tears she tried to hold back spilled out.

Kate: If you say something like that, then…waaahh~~

Any place where Kate cried cutely like this felt like the kindest, most peaceful place in the world.

Roger: With you, the world isn’t such a shitty place.

(Kate, I can’t abandon this shitty, yet beautiful world I live in when you’re in it)

(Even when against despair…I think that’s what makes this worth fighting for)

Kate: Roger…

Roger: Hm, what?

Kate:  Roger, Roger, Roger!

Roger: What?

With her face still wet with tears, Kate jumped into my arms with everything she had—

Kate: Roger, I love you!

(...Yeah, I know)

(I love you too. I know because you taught me what love is)

Roger: A~ah, your face’s all wet. You really are so cute!

While holding Kate tight, I teased and spoiled her.

(A~ah, damn. I don’t think I’ll be content with life without her.

(Despair will always come after us because life isn’t kind)

(Because hope isn’t easy to come by)

(But still…)

Kate: Roger, you can keep teasing me all you want. You can bully me. You can do whatever. But promise me. That we’ll keep living together until the very end.

Roger: ……Yeah.

(Let’s give despair the finger and live together for as long as life lets us)

As if making a vow for the future, I stole a kiss from Kate and looked into her eyes.

Roger: I’m gonna push you around so much you’re gonna hate it. And that’s for life.

Kate: *sniffle*…Crying made me hungry…

(That wasn’t sexy at all. But maybe I’m crazy ‘cause I found it cute)

I couldn’t help but laugh when I felt this unscientific, but lovely feeling rise up in my heart.

Roger: Yeah, me too. Having you in my arms’ tired me out. So…

Kate and Roger: Let’s go eat.

—The conservatory was empty, except for the sound of laughter left behind.

Destiny, unrealizable dreams, incurable disease, war, poverty…

It just goes on.

This world’s a bargain sale of despair.

And it’s called “despair” because you can’t do anything about it.

However, that’s not something I’ll allow.

If you can’t overcome despair— then what’s the point of me, of us humans, being born?

That’s why…these days, we live our lives giving it the finger.

With the one we love.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: You are haunted by nightmares

Warnings: Nightmares, Angst, mention of past and future deaths. No happy ending.

Word Count: 561

A/N: This is my first fic in 3 months. Please be kind with reviews.

Also thank you to my beta readers @nekoannie-chan @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @geekygee01

In and out, rapid breaths.

You woke suddenly from your sleep. Tears falling from your eyes, gasping for air as a chill clings to your body. The same nightmare plagued your mind once again leaving you feeling alone in the dark. But you weren’t alone as you felt a body shift behind you. He always seemed to know when the demons in your mind were causing you trouble.

“Sweetheart, just breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it keep it slow”, Steve says as a comforting arm wraps around you. The tears still fall as you try to control your breathing. 

In and out, slow deep breaths.

You were at the point of a breakdown over the horrors you dreamt of. Images danced in your head of all the death and destruction you saw when Thanos came to earth. Screams echoed in your head as people were lost. There was nothing you could do to fix it. No matter how hard you fought, death surrounded you. You felt you had blood on your hands, no it wasn’t blood but dust of those who were lost.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

His warm, firm hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as you let out a deep sigh. You knew Steve struggled as well and had his own nightmares. Those of seeing Bucky die in front of him yet again haunts him daily. But Steve doesn’t say anything about it. Steve is here comforting you, trying to soothe your soul. He could easily kick you out of his bed over these nightmares but he stands firm you’re not going anywhere. Steve is your light in the darkness.

Your head leans back onto his shoulder and he kisses you softly on your forehead. The chill is now gone, chased by his warmth. Your breathing is slowing down as the screams in your head disappear. 

Your heart clenches in your chest, this is unconditional love. You and Steve have been together for many years now. The man out of time who needed a friend and confidant. You can recall all the nights he needed you and now he is here with you. 

In and out, slow deep breaths.

Your mind starts to slow down and you embrace your lover. Things were going to get better. Tomorrow your mission is to reverse the snap and bring everyone back. It had to work, this is what you’ve been training and planning for. Whatever it takes is the mantra everyone repeats like a prayer. Your friends will all be back. This has to work.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

You lay back down on the bed cuddled up with Steve. He whispers encouraging words as he continues to rub your back and give light kisses to your face. Steve knows that any sacrifices made tomorrow will help them succeed.

Your breathing is slow and even as you fall asleep in the warmth of his arms. Little do you both know that you won’t see past tomorrow. A sacrifice will be made for the sake of the planet. The one chance that Doctor Strange mentioned will come to fruition. All Steve can do tonight is savor the moments he has right now for you. He won’t be able to save you from the demons this time tomorrow.

In and out, last breath taken

Tag List:

@americasass81

@caffiend-queen

@charmed-asylum

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@reneeenders

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@wolfsmom1

@what-is-your-plan-today

@missvelvetsstuff

@jtargaryen18

[lily-evans-stan]

“help me” @pandalilymicrofics prompt for june 22!! it’s my second microfic and my first w a prompt so any insights would be so helpful:)))

TW- Eating disorders and mentions of suicide please take care of your self and read with caution

lily had eaten too much.

that much she knew.

pandora had been passing her drink after drink and as lily lost her inhibitions she lost her control.

and she wasn’t allowed to lose control.

control was the only thing keeping her from madness, from destroying herself inside out.

and it wasn’t doing a very good job.

so lily was eating.

so far she had eaten half a cookie, thirteen potato chips and four and a half beers. it was just too much, she was going to cry.

instead she reached out for her fourteenth chip. according to the bag serving sizes were twenty eight chips, lily, in her mind, was getting dangerously close.

as she realized what she was doing she pulled her hand back suddenly.

pandora appeared at her side, “ what are you doing my love?” she hummed. lily flinched and hoped that the blonde girl hadn’t seen the momentary weakness.

“nothing dear,” lily murmured, leaning into pandora’s touch, suddenly imagining what her lover would think had she know how much lily had eaten.

the redhead stiffened ever so slightly, “im going to go to the bathroom.”

lily stumbled towards the bathroom, her mind going over the rules.

one

never eat anything you can’t throw up

two

never let anyone know

three repeat my mantras :

“if she knows then she will never love me again”

“she only loves me because of how i look”

“if i eat so much, i’m going to be fat and then no one will love me ever again”

“i’m miserable now but one day i’ll be happy”

i’m the bathroom lily flung open the stall and kneeled at the toilet bowl if anyone walked in they would think she just had too much to drink. gryffindor parties often got rowdy, especially when all the houses had been invited like they were tonight.

but that was far from what was happening in lily’s mind.

as she stuck her hand down her throat she gagged. and gagged again. and once more but nothing came up. she started sobbing. she was hiccuping and gagging against the hand in her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

what if she couldn’t throw up? what if she has to digest the food?

what if… what if the next time she stepped on the scale she saw the number go up instead of down.

that truly was lilys greatest fear.

she started hyperventilating. she was gagging and blood was coming up and stomach acid was coming up but nothing solid or even that had once been remotely solid. tears and snot were all over her and she could feel the spit sliding down her arm.

that’s when pandora walked in. her eyes took in the scene, the pitiful girl so deep in her mind that she couldn’t even think straight. so tainted with the monster inside that everything she did was traced back to it.

pandora looked at lily and lily looked back. lily was disgusting, she was covered in bodily fluids and was hyperventilating, shaking and still gagging.

“help me.”

with one step pandora was beside her girlfriend, arms around lily. and lily was sobbing into her shoulder.

things would be sorted out, pandora would get the whole story, and everything would be fixed.

eventually.

but for now lily was in pandoras arms and that was enough.

[sadnightforus]

HARD TO LOVE  (KHJ)

ex!hongjoong x gn!ex reader

SYNOPSIS: It’s been months, exactly 7 at that. And every time that Hongjoong shows up vulnerable at your doorstep, drunk and vulnerable, you let him back in for another night. 

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

WARNINGS: beware of the substance usage like alcohol, cigarettes and all that, distant behavior from hongjoong, full on angst emotional angst (think about how exes feel), a little cuss word that is avoidable.

PART OF HEARTBREAK STATION

A/N: this is legitimately my favorite song. I will not shut up about it. I hope I do this song justice with this fic (even though I might not be satisfied)

SONG USED: HARD TO LOVE BY ONE.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

 It’s 2 in the morning and yet, you’re unable to sleep. 

 Your mind keeps racing, you don’t really know why. But you’re restless as you keep tossing and turning in the comfort of your own bed. You have an important day ahead but you feel uneasy and you can’t always count sheep or think of something that relaxes you to put you into a dreamland. Damn you and the seasonal insomnia. 

 You try your hardest to not touch your phone as you’ve been cutting contacts from social media and spend more time in real life, to remind yourself that life outside is beautiful too. 

 Who are you really kidding? You just can’t let yourself type his username into the search bar and stalk him again. 

 You know that your relationship with him was not an ideal love story at all. Even your friends tell you so, something they do when they sense that you’re thinking about him. 

 You first met him at the club, kissed and lost touch with one another and the only thing you both remembered each other by was the steamy kiss you both shared and the names that sounded like a mantra the more you said it. The unexpected reunion at your favorite coffee shop that eventually led to him asking you out and becoming lovers but soon enough, it’s damaging your own mental health more than anything. 

 It’s what you’ve been trying to tell yourself. 

 You hear a loud knock on the door and the rhythm is almost sloppy, not very steady and sober like. You were worried that the poor door might’ve been broken down until you realize that your place itself has thin walls and anything within 7 feet away can be heard loud and clear. 

 You’re sure that it might be Hongjoong, the man you thought about earlier but you didn’t want to be wrong. You quickly get out of bed, searching for something sharp enough to use as a weapon in case it’s an intruder. 

 Another knock makes a loud and invasive noise against the door, this time with a much faster rhythm. A slurred whine can be heard and this time you put down your weapon. 

“Can you open the door, please?” 

 It’s him, once again, drunk out of his mind and sound totally wrecked, unlike the guy you know who had his guards up and was tough. 

 You don’t want to, knowing that it’ll eventually fuel him to see you as his unofficial live-in guest who never goes home when he’s incredibly intoxicated. But you can’t help it as your legs already had a mind of its own and walked directly to the door, twisting the doorknob to let him in. 

 As you have expected, he is absolutely wasted. Totally hammered as he can barely stand up or walk straight without stumbling and almost tripping many times. You wonder how much he trip before making his way here because your place is on the 3rd floor. Someone might’ve dropped him here or he just significantly got even more drunk by the time he made it to your place.

“Sit down here, I’ll get some water for you.” You say, guiding him to your soft couch as you help him to seat himself down. 

 You take one look to fully observe him and tonight, he wears a long thin coat and only a black mask as an accessory. Way different from his usual style which consists of leather jacket and the black ripped skinny jeans pairing with some sharp earrings. He almost looks like a gentleman, the kind of man who you’ll introduce your family to after just 3 months of dating. 

 You open the fridge as you pour a glass of water, then grab the said glass and you tell him to drink up. Which he complies, gulping on the cold water that is relaxing in his throat. He puts the empty glass down as he fully lies on your couch, with you by his side, watching his every move like a hawk. 

“I miss you.” 

 God, there he goes with his drunk shenanigans. 

 You bite your lips, containing yourself from saying out the things you might regret letting him know. It’s unfortunate that he tells you he needs you and every sweet things only when he’s drunk. 

 The thing is, Hongjoong really does love you. Just that he doesn’t know if you’re also aware of that or understand that completely. 

 You don’t know if he does, or is it just in a wave of moment that is easier to admit when you’ll wake up in the morning and forget it. But you surely also still love him. Somewhere deep down, you know that the attraction was never about the superficial qualities, but it was something that only both of you can feel. Something much deeper and unknown. 

 He’s afraid of how deep his feelings run for you too, which is why he kept on the tough act and kept his distance from you most of the time. But god, is he addicted to making bad choices. And is he so addicted to you and the love you gave that he keeps running to your place when he’s just way too drunk, for the sole purpose of finding his home and to be honest with you. The alcohol was his courage drink because he’d rather act like a complete asshole than opening his heart fully like this. 

“It’s not hard to love you. But you’ll find it hard to love me. It’s also hard to love you when I can barely feel your love and I’m just like this… Gosh. I don’t know what I’m saying at all.” 

 It’s like a string of realization that has finally been broken inside of you. And for him, it’s like a scrabble of thoughts that has been scattered and repaired again as he begins speaking more. 

 He had never spoken this much at all, let alone with such sincerity that you were skeptical. Because the previous time, he would always tell you that he missed you and that he wanted to give it a try again but he’s scared of rejection and that he’s not stable enough for you. 

 It seems like tonight, he’ll be saying more than just few words or so. 

“But I mean it, it’s not hard to love you when I’m sober but when I’m… I can’t feel it. I can’t really tell it.”

 He’s slurring more words, like one of those new records that you bought with a shitty quality and half way into the playing time, it breaks down and starts scribbling into an indescribably odd sounding. 

“I wanna look at you, hear you say all those things again.” He sighs, head is tilting and the body is slightly moving due to trying to balance and his eyes keep occasionally close due to his non-sober state. 

“I don’t wanna be drunk like this anymore. I wanna keep looking at you but.. I can’t see anything clearly right now.” 

 There are tears, now forming in your eyes that are threatening to spill. 

 You know he’s being honest, even if his words don’t make sense in this state that he’s in right now. You can always tell that he really loves you, even if it was unconventional and almost in a non-traditional way. His love can be felt, not seen or heard. 

 That’s why you’ll always keep the doors open for him. 

“I’m sorry. I know you probably hate me now. I didn’t treat you like you deserved to be treated.” 

 He can feel himself almost break down into tears as he finishes off with this bang of a statement. 

 He’s so fucked up, completely fucked up. He knows that, he is aware of how unstable he is since you both broke up but he doesn’t want you to know that. 

 Every night that he doesn’t show up at your door, he can’t sleep at his own place. He struggles with insomnia since you decided to part ways with him for good due to many differences and you feel like you both can’t offer each other things you crave for anymore. He understood that but he always selfishly tried to keep you around for longer, knowing that his lack of improvement will continue to worsen the relationship and now he just went down the rabbit hole that is hard to get out of. 

 Sleeping pills were the only thing that kept his mind from bursting. Too many of his late night thoughts were always about you and the ‘what ifs’ that he never got the chance to act on. 

“I wanna change for you. I wanna try. But I have so many problems… but it’s not enough. So I’m sorry.” 

“Hongjoong.” You command his attention. “I never asked you to be the perfect man, you know that.��� You tell him, tears are now slowly falling from your eyes. 

“But all I ever asked for is that we loved each other. I just wanted you to be yourself when we were together. I never wanted you to hold back on your feelings.” 

 Even if his side of story didn’t make sense to you at first, you really understand it as you remembered what he usually said when he’s this intoxicated and right now, you figured that he has a fear of real, deep intimacy because of his attachment. You observed him enough to know that he tends to get obsessive with certain things and hobbies and talking him out of it was no use, but you figured out it’s how he showed love. So you never understood why he never showed the same kind of behavior towards you too, up until now. 

“You know I always asked myself, why did you push me away? Why did you never want to explore the depth of our relationship? Was it something I did? What had I done for you to be so afraid of opening it up to me? You’ve always been hot and cold. You were sweet and the most loving man for a minute but the next, you suddenly turned your back and became the coldest man I’ve known. It’s complicated.” 

 You let your tears fall. You’re not fully crying but if this drags on any longer then you might be. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, shaking his head while keeping it low. “I’m so fucked up, aren’t I?” He lifts his head a bit to look at it. Only then, did you notice that his eyes are a bit unfocused but all of this talk makes him more sober than before. 

“I get attached way too quickly. I pushed you away because I’m so scared that history will repeat itself. But what I had told you before, it’s the truth.” He then continues. 

“I told you before, I’ll die if I don’t have you in my life. You may brushed it off as a joke but it’s true. You’re the only person who I told most things in my mind to, even if it’s so little. I knew that you’re the only one I’d need to be in my life in that way from the first time I saw you. Not during the relationship, the breakup or now.” 

 You’re shocked by this statement. 

 You didn’t take your ex boyfriend to think of you like that. You didn’t think that you left a strong impression on him but apparently, he thinks of you otherwise as you’re left to let his words soak into your consciousness. 

“I’m afraid of how deep my feelings run for you. Because there were people who told me it’s suffocating that I’m like this. I’m afraid that you’ll be like that too when you no longer need me, that you’ll be burdened by how intense my emotions are.” 

 He looks at you like you’re the only thing in his life that matters the most to him. And you are. 

 He just needs another chance to make it right. 

“I know I’m being so fucking selfish by keeping you around but I just need you in my life.” 

 With that, he lets a few stray tears escape from his eyes. As he desperately tries to find something to hold onto to find the balance in the current emotional state he’s in, you mindlessly extend your arm for him. He does, gently caressing the soft skin of your palm with both of his hands. 

 If he had more mind and awareness, he’d never admit that and leave you to think to connect the dots on your own. You’re not stupid but sometimes, he’s just expressing his affection in the most puzzling way possible. 

 He misses his sobriety, he misses being with you. 

“Since we broke up, I’ve never been sober. Whenever I was, I’d need to take sleeping pills to get me to sleep because I can’t  stop thinking about you.” He confesses, not to seek your sympathy but he just wants to admit this and see how much the breakup has been hard on him too. 

“Why would you do that to yourself?” You ask, tears now dried but the hurt is evident in your voice. 

“Because you’re not around.”

 You can see how broken he is, from the wavering tone in his voice. 

 His eyes, now shimmering with the dried unshed tears, beg for you to say what he wanted to hear. His own self built persona breaks especially in times where he has no control over his emotions, thoughts and speech or physical movement. 

“Do you know why I always let you in whenever you’re drunk like this at my door? Because… I still love you.” You then sigh, take a look at his face as you had promised yourself nights and months before that it’ll be the last time you’ll ever let him in. 

“But you know that we can’t always have things our way. I care about you a lot. I can feel your love for me. But it’s tiring that I have to chase after every tiny bit of your attention.” 

 You pause your speech, feeling your throat turning dry as you spend the time admiring the beauty that is your ex boyfriend. 

 Even if he is a mess, he’s truly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. So beautiful that you don’t think any other man you’ve seen will come close to him. Many people would have agreed with you because he’s not only physically attractive but his demeanor is unique too. 

 He is unforgettable. Truly magnificent. 

“Don’t hurt yourself because of me anymore. I don’t think I’m worth that much of a person that you need me as a survival person.” 

 Hongjoong’s heart grows heavier with this phrase that left your lips. It’s really his confirmation that he’s not welcomed back into your life in the way that he longs for anymore. 

“No!” His outburst surprises you. “You’re worth everything!”

“You’re all I ever need.” 

 The last phrase was said with a whispery tone. 

“Overtime, you won’t. You’ll meet someone who can love you and need you as much as you do with me. But I can’t be that person.” 

 His body grows colder at this moment as the heat of the alcohol intoxication mow wears off and it slowly seeps into his system. He slowly regrets saying all of that but he knows he needs the proper talk. 

 You both need closure. 

 And you both also need to move on and forget about each other. 

You knew this for a long time but now, you make up your mind to really do it. 

 Everything from his speech, to his scent and actions really messes with your thoughts tonight. It’s ruining you because his desperation and needs for you runs deeper than just for sex, but for emotional and psychological fulfillment. 

 It’s why you kept letting the doors open. 

 You’re usually logical and you give chances too many times. You did that and now the confessions make you reconsider every move and thing you’ve said to him. You ask yourself if you still really meant what you said. 

 But you’re determined. Determined to not let yourself fall into this trap of his charms and neglect again. And no matter how much it hurts you because of the hidden love you have for him that will forever be buried deep there and would go unnoticed, you also have to let him go for your own good. You can’t handle this kind of love, if that’s the treatment you receive while being in a relationship. 

 You have too much pride and perhaps, self respect, to go back to him like that. You’re not gonna let history repeat itself. 

 Silence completely falls onto you both. He feels tired as the exhaustion from both the mental battle between his heart and his head and he lets go of your arm, silently stares at your now unattended palm. 

 It’ll be the last time he’ll see you. 

 He tries to savour the moment of your presence being so close to him a little bit more by fighting his sleepiness to look at you without saying a word. 

 He knows that deep down, he should’ve let you go a long time ago. He has been nothing but such a nuisance to you, yet you treat him with so much kindness and care that he took your actions for granted. Now that you draw the lines, he regrets for all of the time that he does this. 

 His intense gaze looks at you, drinking in you and your essence. It’ll really be the last time he gets to talk to you like this, or even have the privilege to say things to you if you both bump into each other on the streets. Or even have your house architects and rooms memorized by heart. 

 He’ll have to pretend that you never existed. 

 He can do that… he used to before knowing you. Now it’ll be a task for him to not have any thoughts involving you. 

 His eyelids become more droopy and he finally lets himself completely pass out on your couch. You don’t have a heart to tell him to go away; it’ll really be the last time that you’ll let him walk into his place freely as an uninvited guest. 

“You’ll forget all of this in the morning.” You whisper, careful not to be too loud while looking at him. “I’ll never stop loving you. I never hate you. I can’t hate you even if I tried. You’ll be staying at the back of my mind every day for the rest of my life.” And you finish it off with a phrase before you get up quietly to go to your own room to sleep. 

“I don’t hope that you know that, though. You’re hard to love when you’re like this, too.” 

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2023

[funny-upset-clown]

Write everyday, and that will be good enough.

I ripped myself from my cycle, from the sheets, the burning candle; cackling, waning, from the pale window side and the brownie pan, from the sulking desk, the blackening curtain that once smelled of turmeric and a spring dawn.

On the bus I felt the eyes and fumes of strangers, I felt winter loosening into its skin, the bus halt, go, halt, twist, accumulating hot air. I did not think of anything, nothing I can remember now, except that one mantra I shall not refuse:

I must become an acquaintance to that which passes through me and circles back, hour to hour, the pang of lost love, the image of love in a person who is now lost totally, or even the sneeze of peace, the forgiving hello of my life's image: multi-florescent and whole.

I cannot get out of my head the fear of what alienation cumulatively does to me. I cannot quite pinpoint the ideal exodus of my isolation. I imagine myself surrounded by church bells, I imagine myself grinning at climax - covered in saliva and sunrays, I imagine the lullaby that is pure curiosity as it butters my nerves with the first phrase of mystery. I imagine myself and a flower alone considering the sound. I imagine falling in love over and over again.

Perhaps I imagine being more open to the sensation of love wherever it may take me.

That is the secret of the time I was once most happy.

To recall that security, is to outline its absence in me now. I breathe in.

Sitting at the cafe where I will be reading poetry in a few weeks. I cannot afford a refill on my tea. The street lamps just turned on and the sky has shifted from a blinding pale gray to a shadowed cerulean that peels my very heart from me and it is just 4:40 in the afternoon. As for the hunger, I don't feel it in my stomach, I feel it in my lips and my spine, now in my nose with the whiff of a stew being boiled in the back. I wrap my thin sweatshirt around my bound torso and adjust my glasses, the window glass gets thinner and my fingers jump over the keys- broken by chill. I consider commuting home, I consider the waiting and shivering. I consider passing groups of friends and lovers seen through restaurant windows, feasting and laughing, I consider the light in eyes that will not look my way. I consider the jealousy and the building starvation. I also consider waiting here, writing here, then reading. Finding a way to resource any warmth, drinking the free water, my right leg crossed over my left swaying weakly and melodiously. Waiting until Coles opens. I wouldn't buy a beer. If I did it would fill me up like a meal and I'd feel warm for a moment. I consider being there, no money in my pocket, nothing to fall back on except the single day bus pass I dropped half of all my money on.

I consider my options. 

I could steal again. I'd steal a candle and a hot drink. 

I think about A and flinch to my surprise. A song plays that reminds me of when they bought me a bouquet of marigolds from out the car window on my birthday.

I imagine them walking in through the jingling door and feeling okay. I imagine their warm hands falling all around mine 

and now the cold is becoming too much to bear. 

The sky now looks like an oil spill in ocean waters. The door jingles, the train roars, my nipples get cold, my foot starts shaking faster. I don't need anybody to look at me, no I do not. All of this because I am practically nothing at all, especially as long as I am alive, and this is not to rouse despair. 

It is now 5pm, and I will prepare myself to find something new. I just have to gnaw the sting of wind and the blow of hunger. 

I am content to have eyes, I will record for this sake, for the sake of writing just to write everyday.

[lisbeth-kk]

Truth

Thanks for the prompt @calaisreno

I'll put a warning here. There's mentioning of suicidal thoughts in this fic. If that triggers you, feel free to skip reading.

Falling apart

The truth is, he never expected to meet anyone like Sherlock Holmes. To instantly know there was a connection there. A bond. An unbreakable one, he’d once thought. They were everything to each other apart from lovers. Flatmates, friends, partners. The closest thing to family without being biologically related. 

The truth is, John had decided to end his life that night. There was nothing left to live for. He couldn’t work as a surgeon after Afghanistan. The small army pension barely kept his head above water. He had to move out of London, but London was his home. Not that he had any friends there, but still, he loved the city with all his heart. 

On a whim John had decided to go through the park that day. Meeting Mike Stamford had been an awkward affair. Meeting Sherlock Holmes had altered John’s life from miserable to exhilarating in a few hours. Chasing a cab through the streets instantly cured John’s limp, and he’d felt properly alive.

Years had passed and his life was still fulfilling and gave John the action he craved and occasionally the full attention from the most brilliant man John’s ever encountered. A man that captured and held John’s heart in his large, delicate hands from day one. If the amazing man knew this, John would never know. What John knew was that the same man broke his heart into a million pieces the day he jumped off a building to his death. John could literally feel it break, no matter what physics said about the matter. To John it was the utmost truth.

John’s back in the park where he met Mike. It didn’t feel right to end it inside their beloved home, and he refused to let Mrs. Hudson be forced to find him like that. She’s just recovered after Sherlock’s death. He won’t add to her burden. At least he’ll spare her the sight of a John Watson dead in his chair. After all, John knows far too well how it feels to see a loved one like that.

The park’s deserted at this hour. John’s alone with the familiar companion, his gun. The gun he’s used to protect Sherlock from harm’s way right from the very start. The gun Lestrade’s tried to get his hands on for ages, but an interfering big brother has somehow managed to prevent that from happening. John guesses he should be grateful for that now. Mycroft may not have known it at the time, but he literally wrote John’s death sentence when he time and time again returned the gun to 221B.

John knows he’s got limited time. He can’t hesitate for much longer. There are cameras all over the place, and Mycroft has more than one eye pointed at John. That’s also one reason why John wants to end his life right here. Mycroft’s minions will take care of the mess before the press gets their stained fingers on this. They’ve done enough damage with their character assassination regarding Sherlock’s work. Claiming him to be a fraud.

He's been holding it together up until now, but reaching his destination, John’s falling apart. Once collapsed on a bench he starts sobbing, muttering Sherlock’s name like a mantra, begging him not to be dead. After a while he takes several deep breaths and reaches around his back for his gun. He weighs it in his hand, caresses it, thinks back to all the times he’s used it to protect Sherlock. It’s never failed him, but what does it matter now. In the end, John wasn’t able to save Sherlock from dying. His eyes fill with tears again and he wipes them away angrily. Time’s up.

Hurried steps in the gravel makes him panic. He’s used too much time! Mycroft’s minions are here to save him, but John doesn’t want to be saved. He wants peace from the constant pain of having lost the one person that matters more to him than his own life. With a steady hand he lifts his arm, pointing the gun at his temple, when someone calls his name.

“John! Don’t. Please.”

That voice! No, it can’t be. He’s dead, for fuck’s sake! It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

In his peripheral sight he sees something black swirling, a familiar movement, a coat he would know anywhere, and he’s only seen one man wearing it. John lifts his head, lowers his gun and seconds later Sherlock’s kneeling in front of him, burying his face into John’s belly.

John drops the gun, rakes through unruly curls with one hand, the other covers his mouth to stop him from screaming. There’s no stopping the tears streaming down his cheeks, though. He still can’t believe what’s happening. When Sherlock withdraws and looks up at him with redrimmed eyes, they tell a story much similar to John’s own. 

“I’ve missed you,” John whispers hoarsely and strokes Sherlock’s cheekbones with his thumbs.

Sherlock seems to have lost his ability to speak. He just holds on to John for dear life, unable to stop crying or shaking.

“Let’s go home, Sherlock,” John says softly.

This is what happens when I listen to beautiful music with sad lyrics.

@totallysilvergirl @raina-at @missdeliadili @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes

[mystery-salad]

“I love you...”

"I love you." The words hold as much effort as Fantei puts into sawing off a leg from the restrained sylvari in front of her. "I'm sorry this is so slow, I didn't think this was the path you'd choose. Didn't bring the right tools." Her focus doesn't rise from her work, sky-blue sap lighting the secluded trees she worked among.

"You always make it feel like daylight, even working in the dark here…I love that about you." The soft words are lost in the sobs coming from the dying sylvari. Tender words she once loved that now mean nothing next to the cruel, misplaced betrayal consuming her lover.

The screams grow weaker as she loses blood. Fantei tries to work faster. She can't have her dearheart dying on her during such an important process, at least not for the first few pieces.

There's a sickening crunch as she finally breaks the first leg off and holds it so tenderly next to her own. "What do you think? It's a bit of a height difference, I'll need some time to get used to that but I think it's worth it. For us to stay together."

The second leg comes off easier, she knows how it works now, to break it first and make the cut easier. Silence fills the woods as the screams stop. She knows the most crucial part will be over soon enough. Red mixes with the blue sap covering the floor, the color of the trees moving from daylight to dusk. Her legs are a little smaller, easier still to remove than her lovers were.

Fantei is no doctor and the ground beneath her glows with the amateur effort. But she had an affinity for things that grow, long before she knew the sting of Nightmare. Grafting two plants from the same Mother should be simple enough, she repeats the thought like a mantra in her head as she shreds her pants for strips to bind her new legs on.

It hurts. Amputation is irreversible, even successful reattachments have small changes. Change is what she wants though, and the pain is nothing next to the rejection her dearheart tried to leave her with. This is easier, this is better. This will keep them together like they'd both wanted.

The legs don't work at first, of course not. They need time to heal and she needs to rest soon. There's one more piece to grab before she can let herself fall back to the embrace of Nightmare though, it feels too poetic to ignore. The court took her from her love, her love betrayed their forever vows, but now she would fix all of it. Make things equal again. An eye for an eye, she thinks that's how the saying goes.

[homoirrealis]

"The way some science fiction does"...

Loved a recent post from @drinkingbitterboy where he is talking about Hillsborough Park posters and how they look a bit like voyager golden record... Check it out here. And it got me thinking... Consciously or subconsciously, his music oozes sci-fi and space references... Not only with TBHC, which is in a category of its own... but across years of his work and interviews: - "She's made of outer space/And her lips are like the galaxy's edge/And her kiss the color of a constellation falling into place" - "The lunar surface is what my friends nicknamed the room in my house in L.A" Alex said - "And as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?" And more... use comments to add your favourite - there is definitely more... But coming back to the point made in the post linked above, the line "no matter who or what it meets and what wonders it sees, it carries a piece of home with it and a map of how to get there" got me thinking about how he uses sci-fi main ploy, creating other worlds in order to comment on this one... Alex seems to be always teetering between a notion of: a) creating a record to preserve a moment in time, to travel to it like through the Stargate. After this I more and more think about it as the keys on a device, a portal, a dial to travel between time and space, to a better future or a comforting past... Alex said:"I like the idea that records can sometimes feel like places the listener can go and get lost." that you trevel to at warp speed chic, of course, and staying for a little while... Thanks, mahaonthegram for cementing the idea of Stargate in my mind - credit on visual below to her.

b) Lamenting a future with dreams of heading skyward to outer space, but the reality seemingly earthbound and fixated on what it's in our hands and newsfeeds. Part reflecting on human nature, part resentfully Amusing ourselves to death... - To begin with, "TBHC" and "The Car" give me very strong Solaris by Stanisław Lem vibes... In Lem's own words: "Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilisations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed” Alex always seem to be saying - we look skywards, we are dreaming about better future, we travel bloody space, yet we always stuck with "rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles"... In the book, while being surrounded by beauty of space, in his head he is grounded on Earth by his problems, fears, hopes, secret desires and longings... Lem, similar to Alex, makes a point that human obsessions and desires are as strong as any gravitational force, and it only takes a vision of one’s beloved for man to lose himself completely, let alone recover from that and then have strength to discover some external fascinating aspect of the universe... For Alex it might be his creative process, when all of the demons come out to play... it might be creative somebody that he feels gravitational pull to... or a lover... - Furthermore, references to the cheap thrill of social media, "stackable party guests", "hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase", even "weekly chats with God" being video calls... He is enjoying some parts of his life no doubt, but there is a strong sense of resentment too... and longing... because, well, he "Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am". His main mantra to himself being "dance little liar monkey", " stayin' strong for the crew/Wardrobe's lint-rollin' your velveteen suit/And smudgin' dubbin' on your dancin' shoes"...

The sad part is that he says that he needs to be reminded that "it ain't a race when my invincible streak turns onto the final straight"... Like worrying that there is nothing more to it... Scary thought that...

Technological advances really bloody get him in the mood indeed.... It was a very long one, let me know what you guys think....