#Nine needs a REALLY BIG FUCKING HUG

[bluebunnyears-08]

Fucking Crying Over Here About Prime Again (Yes I have An Obsession With This Show, So What?)

Did anyone else notice a sort a cycle with Sonic and Nine, or what hopeless situation Nine is trapped in? I mean I didn't at first but thinking about it now it's becoming kinda obvious.

Let me start with the pattern part first. When Sonic and Nine had that brief moment of trust and friendship Sonic was sucked into the shard away from Nine, leaving the kit alone, confused, and most likely worried and no doubt hurt. When Sonic and Nine end up in the Grim and Sonic chooses to go and help the rebels, leaving Nine alone again, leaving him with the horrible feeling of rejection and loneliness one more. And finally when Sonic goes to look for Nine he unintentionally leaves Nine once again at the mercy of the council.

Now you might be thinking, so what are you saying? Well, did anyone else pick up on the fact that it wasn't just a moment of events, but it was the fact that Sonic leaves Nine in an even WORSE psychological state the more he unintentionally gets pushed away (either by the literally universe, or even Nine himself) and repeatably abandons Nine?

In the first moment of unintentional pain, Sonic gets sucked into the shard, Nine being concerned, confused, and no doubt conflicted, being left alone to ponder in his own worries and thoughts, even after he escapes the council. (Another thing is how he abandoned the rebels and Rusty to find a way to find Sonic, mostly due to his nihilistic and loner mindset, but a small sliver of it might've been due to Sonic disappearing without a teace. The only person who was EVER kind to him)

The second moment leaves Nine even worse, Sonic gently shutting down the Grim DID NOT take away the pain and probable gut punch Nine felt. Nine noticably doesn't yell or snap at Sonic (his noticable changes I'll mention in another post). In fact he seems to bitterly try to swallow that rejection. He pushed himself away from Sonic in that moment, obviously trying to protect himself from the pain, letting him go back and help the rebels, not forcing Sonic to stay (even thought he could've easily done so, he didn't, which again, I'll talk about his noticable character change in another post). Sonic leaves and Nine is left with his own thoughts, to gulp down on that emotional pain on his own.

The last time is when Sonic unintentionally leaves Nine to be captured. From the scenes we see, Nine isn't having the time of his life. He's tased relentlessly, having to dealt with the fact that the person he saw as his only friend rejected being together with him, AND left him when he needed his help on top of that. Not to mention listening to plans of murder.

Imagine: You're an eight year-old child who's been bullied and ostracized by everyone around you, being abused and neglected for something you never asked for, then after YEARS of pain, isolation, and loneliness, you find someone who tells you of another life you could had, someone who shows nothing but selfless concern and care for you, and that same person gets taken right in front of you, leaving you confused, hurt and alone again for what was stated to be WEEKS. Then you build a space ship so you can find him, finding a home for the both of you, when you finally see them again though they reject your idea of a perfect world. In your head: they reject you. You let them go, deeply hurt, but come back to help, only to be captured by tyrannical dictators, abandoned again by the only friend you had. You now have to deal with the undeniable fact of them rejecting you, being stuck with cruel but idiotic dictators who talk about KILLING someone you thought cared for you, and even when you manage to pursue them against it, they talk about draining them, about essentially torturing them to death. ALL OF THAT combined with the emotional trauma of a year long abuse, living in a crap sack world of cruelty and misery, being alone, hated, AND continuously blaming and hating yourself for years, AND the future mental toll of the revelation that it took someone from ANOTHER WORLD TO MAKE YOU FEEL LOVED AND SAFE, BUT IT WAS ONLY BECAUSE THEY SEE YOU AS SOMEONE ELSE, SOMEONE YOU COULD NEVER BE.

It REALLY makes wonder how Nine hasn't fucking SNAPPED.

But something tells me season two is going to get a lot worse for Nine. This series is about Sonic going through redemption to save the world, and Shadows eventual realization that communication takes using your words than using your fists, AND questions just how far a super genius child's mental state and psyche can last when our through isolation, horror, and depression.

But hold on, because I'm about to make this so much worse.

Which brings me to my second point of this post.

I can't remember who rn (mainly because I'm tired as fuck and writing this at 6 in the morning) but someone mentioned something that got me thinking; Nine's entire goal, his entire dream, his SUFFERING is beginning to seem all for nothing.

If the theory that Sonic collects the shards and boom worlds fixed is true, what did Nine suffer for? What did Nine fight for? What did Nine keep going for? All of that pain, that isolation, that psychological horror he experienced and will probably continue to experience, all of his efforts would be for nothing. His goals will never be fulfilled, Nine will never be able to truly win. He'll never be happy.

Either:

He'd just fade from existence and merely become another trait in someone he desperately wants the life of and refuses to be known as.

He'd get rejected by Sonic and would have to suffer this revelation. HARD.

He'd find some way to force Sonic to stay, but in a world where the hedgehog can never be truly happy in (Sonic values freedom above anything else, not to mention his considering of his friends as his home and his insatiable thirst for adventure). And given how Nine seems to want BOTH of them to be happy in the Grim (given his uses of 'we' and 'our'), it would still be for nothing, not to mention it most likely won't make Nine happy either from the sheer guilt or self hatred he'd be in.

He could prevent Sonic from getting sucked into any more shards or in the ShatteredSpace, but seeing how Shadow found a way to escape the void, it wouldn't last very long.

He could find a way to join Sonic in his world, but either reality would collapse and all of them will die or he'd have to live a life being seen as Tails's doppelganger and not a true person, not to mention to undeniable jealously and emotional torment he'd face seeing the fox's and hedgehogs unbreakable friendship.

He could betray Sonic and take over the multiverse, but he'd be hated even more than ever, seen as a monster, not to mention it would completely ignore and trample upon his goals of wanting to be happy. He'd still be fucking miserable.

He could join the Council, but same problem as the one above, only this time he's still trapped in New Yolk with a bunch of cruel dictators.

He could sacrifice himself, but he might never find peace in even that, knowing he's just a mere doppel in Sonic's eyes, knowing his efforts were futile, still rendering his actions to nothing.

No matter what you think of, Nine is still going to be miserable, dead, or reduced to a possible fate worse than death. Nine can't be happy. He can't ever win.

(Which makes my constant tag of #NineDeservesToWinNoMatterWhat pointless too, but I'm going to continue to stand by this. He deserves to win, he deserves happiness more than ANYONE.)

But it's truly depressing that Nine is a person that nobody, not even Sonic, can save. In fact, while Sonic can help and give Nine the unconditional love and support Nine definitely needs, hes inadvertently making Nine's mentality worse not just by abandonment, but by his views of Nine as a doppelganger of his best friend and not his own person, which would undoubtedly take a huge chunk of Nine's psyche, his inability to accept Nine (both as this being a part of Tails, and also due to Nine being a Tails in his eyes, again he still sees Tails), his rejection of Nine's Haven, and the WORST PART OF ALL: Giving a hope that Nine can never grasp.

Sonic gave him a hope of palm trees and beaches. A world of joy and love. A world with Chillidogs and the two of them together. Forever.

But Nine can't ever grasp it, he can only claw and scrape the edges of it, he can only stare at it and make useless prayers for it to come to life. For once, Sonic's hope, his kindness, his friendship, but these normally good things only made things even more painful, even more hopeless, to the person who needs it the most.

And that's fucking traumatizing to think about.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Twelve

Steve wanted everything to be ready and set up for when Eddie got back; Hopper was going to drop him over later in the afternoon.

It didn’t work out like that at all; Steve’s parents left earlier than they said they would. He got Eddie’s things out of the closet, and then was heading to the garage to get the tent, really, truly intending to use this time to get everything right for when Eddie comes back.

Steve lasted twenty minutes in the empty house before he couldn’t take any more. He just missed Eddie too much. He was too excited to see him, to bring him home, way too excited to wait hours.

Especially since every moment now felt so precious, so finite.

So he thought fuck it, slipped on his sneakers and picked up his car keys and headed to the store. He definitely needed fresh groceries ready for Eddie to come home.

It’s a fairly good thing his mother never actually cooks; she might have had questions about all the peas in the freezer. As it is Steve has to rotate between stores, he's started saying, ‘I’m doing this green juice diet thing,’ every time he gets a strange look when he pays. Even that would only fly so far before people started looking at him like he was really weird; it’s not like Hawkins is a big place, there’s not exactly a lot of options.

From the store, Steve heads to the cabin, only to find Eddie sitting on the stoop, his bag ready next to him. He grins so big when Steve pulls up.

Hopper comes out with a steaming mug cupped in his hands and an unlit cigarette sagging between his lips, “you’re as bad as each other, I told him not until four, he’s been packed since half nine. Couldn’t stop him.”

Steve kneels on the step below Eddie so they can give each other a proper hug; he feels Eddie’s chest expand in a massive sigh, and then Eddie relaxes fully against him. Steve can relate; he feels the same.

“Sorry Hop,” Steve says absently.

Hopper makes a noncomittal noise, and Steve hears the rasp of his lighter, “all his things are clean, did a load of laundry last night.”

Steve stands, but finds Eddie’s holding his hand and Steve kind of doesn’t want to ever let go of him anyway, so it kind of works out.

“Thanks so much Hopper, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

Hopper leans on the porch rail, “just laundry, kid.”

“You know what I mean, you’ve, you know, looked after him and I-”

“Hopper,” Eddie says, causing them both to look, “thank you,” and Eddie presents Hopper with a pine cone. It has strands of long grass haphazardly tied to it, little flowers and a couple of smalls leaves. Steve doesn’t look at Hopper’s face; he knows he will laugh if he does.

“Errr...you’re welcome.”

Steve thinks Hopper accepts his gift with grace.

The plan is to spend the whole afternoon on the couch watching movies. Eddie puts his things away; moves things around, spends an hour generally reacquainting himself with the place, Steve asks him if he wants the tent put back today, but Eddie shakes his head, clearly not worried about it. He also doesn’t want to get his shiny things back either; Steve offers to go into his parents room with him but again, Eddie seems disinterested.

He just seems to need to check where everything is before he finally settles, snuggling right up to Steve and settling his head on Steve’s chest, half cradled between Steve’s legs.

Steve knows Eddie’s missed him, Steve has missed him, too.

They don’t even pretend that night. There’s no talk of nightmares, or dark TV, or bad dreams. There’s no excuses about how it’s cold, or talk about Eddie sleeping on the couch; they brush their teeth together, and then Eddie gets into Steve’s bed before Steve does.

Steve sleeps with Eddie’s tail wrapped between and around his legs, and tries not to dwell on how much it’s going to hurt when it’s gone.

Steve walks through the door of Family Video, arms in the air, triumphant, “ayyyyyyyy!”

Robin mimics him from behind the counter, throwing her arms up too, “ayyyyyy...what are we doing?!”

“Celebrating, obviously,” Steve gets his ass up on the counter and shimmies around, dropping down on the other side, “we’re back together. The dream team.”

“The dynamic duo?”

“The perfect pair.”

“The...top twins?”

“That’s weak Steve.”

“I know, I couldn’t come up with anything good that begins with ‘T’ and I wanted to keep this going. Thanks by the way, I think we have two shifts together this week. I do not want to know what you had to do to get that-”

“Gross,” Robin slaps him in the chest with a half eaten red vine.

The bell over the door tinkles, a whole brood of excited kids coming in, looking for Christmas movies, Steve directs the mom to the right section. It’s not long before more come in, “what the hell is going on?” Steve gripes about all the little kids absolutely ruining the displays.

“Last day of school, everyone's out for Christmas,” Robin tells him as she rings someone up.

“No way,” Steve looks at the calendar pinned to the cupboard door behind the counter, “Oh. It is.”

“Yep Dingus, not long now, got all your gifts?”

“Shit Rob, I don’t have any gifts-”

“Terrific!”

“No it’s-”

“No no, terrific! With a ‘T’!”

“Oh...yeah, I suppose that was the obvious option.”

Steve gets home late, these closing shifts really starting to get to him, thinking about what the hell he should get Eddie for Christmas. He has no idea how long the whole...transformation thing…might take. Or how long until it happens. This might be the only Christmas Eddie ever has and…Steve’s going to do his best to make it amazing.

Tomorrow he���s going to drive out and pick up a real tree, get all the decorations down from the attic; Eddie likes shiny things, he should like it. Steve feels better with a plan of action, he always has.

“Eddie,” Steve calls as he closes the front door, stripping off his jacket and gloves. His ears are freezing, he should wear a hat really, but that would be a bit of a crime with his hair.

Steve can smell something; coffee he’s pretty sure, and something cooking, “Stee.”

“Hey Buddy, what are you doing,” Steve finds Eddie on a kitchen chair in front of the stove.

“Stee nine and a half.”

“Yeah, yeah I did say that buddy.”

Eddie’s carefully stirring soup on the stove top; there’s a bowl ready, next to a plate of crackers and randomly shaped cut up lumps of cheese. Well, more like hacked up lumps of cheese, but still.

Steve watches, heart sort of in his mouth, as Eddie carefully, tongue poking out in concentration, lifts the pot and pours the steaming soup into the bowl. He does it slowly, but perfectly fine, “Stee hot, ow.”

“I’ll let it cool down I...just thank you buddy, thank you so much.”

There’s a dirty knife and the empty soup can in the sink, but otherwise Eddie’s tidied up after himself. This must have taken so much effort; Eddie would have to move the chair every time he needed to reach something. Steve can’t help it, he dips, giving Eddie a soft kiss on the cheek.

Part Fourteen

[cherriesformatt]

waiting || chris sturniolo

chrisxfem!reader

summary: when reader and chris are about to become parents

warnings: fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: My first story for Chris who cheers 🫢 I did not proof read yet! I hope you like it ❤️ Thank you for the request.

I was nervously checking the test every second sitting on a closed toilet seat. Chris was staring at it too while sitting on the bathtub edge. We had some scares before, but this one? This one felt a little too real.

We were in Boston for few days now and his mom made her famous shepherd's pie that I loved so much. But it just made me sick and I just have been feeling very weird lately and with my period late it just could mean one thing.

And let me tell you, both of us just looked like we saw a ghost. We have been laughing when Matt and Tilly had an accident - that oops great it wasn't us. Their daughter was born few weeks ago and we are here because they brought her to meet whole family.

But here we fucking go. Two red lines on both of the tests I was holding.

"Fuck...." I heavily breathed out.

I looked at Chris and he looked at me and also let the air out of his lungs as he held his breath for a little. He took his hat of to fix his hair and he put it back on. He put his hand on my thigh.

"I cannot believe this.. I wanna say it's karma but that would be a little mean" He said.

His tone was so calm that it actually made my crazy because I wanted to scream.

"We were teasing them for whole nine months so there we go hun.... our time to shine" I said and hid my face in my hands.

"y/n.... We got this, okay? I know I am a fucking big baby...and you had different plans but... we got this. Anything you decide to do....we got this" He hugged me tight to his body.

Of course I wanted to keep the baby. It was no other choices for me. We have been together for almost two year. I love Chris so much but we just came to the path that we were very happy just two of us. We had a rocky first year awith both of us having trust and commitment issues it wasn't easy and now I will have to share him with our baby.

"I know we do..." I said into his neck.

We didn't tell anyone on this trip because we waned this time to be only Matt's and Tilli's attention spot. But we did tell them right after we came back to LA. Jimmy and Marylou were with us because they wanted to help out with little Noa.

Me and Chris were both lazy souls and we were too overwhelmed to come up with like a cute idea to tell everyone. We just decided to do it.

"So...Noa is going to be a big cousin...surprise!" Chris said when we were all at the dinner table at Matt's house.

"What the fuck are you saying bro?" Matt looked at him with wide eyes.

'I am pregnant" I said looking at him and smiled a little.

"Was that like planned? Is it my turn too? What is this?" Nick laughed.

"Believe me it was not...."I said quietly.

"y/n honey... thats why you were so under the weather in Boston... sweats congratulations" Their mom hugged my tight.

Jimmy hugged Chis too and we just answered all the questions they had before Tilly took me and gave me all the advices and have me her pregnancy stuff she had packed to give away.

Other than the first few weeks the pregnancy was very easy on me. Chris was there for every appointment and he seemed to be really exited. I knew how he loved watching his brother becoming a father but I didn't know he is going to be that much happy about being one as well right now.

I was happy too, we made a space, we were stable, we could make the best for the baby. But we were also very young and that was just scary.

"Nick... I am not doing anything weird, can we just like.. go to the beach? On sunset... I do not need any dresses or flowers. I just need Chris and we should take Matt, Tilly and Noa for the photoshoot" I said to the oldest triplet.

"Okay, okay I knew you will going to say that.... You and Chris are just so basic... " He said.

I asked him to take our pregnancy photos, so we could have it for ourselves.

"If you would ask Chris I am pretty sure he would want our pregnancy photo shoot on Summer Smash stage with Lil Skies" I laughed.

He did as well because he knew I was right. Nick and I were alone at his house because Chris and Matt were gone to the festival. It took me and Tilly two weeks to convince them to go. They were very overprotecting of us. Matt said he would go when they will go to Chicago with him so Tilly did. But I had a lot of work to do here so I couldn't. So Chris said yes but only if I would stay over at Nick's so he will know I am safe.

"You are actually impossible you know?" He said when he walked in to our apartment and saw me painting walls in our son's room.

I was 7 months pregnant. My belly was really big already but I was feeling great. We just had a little gender reveal party for our friends and family. We waited for so long because we didn't know if we want to know but then both of us couldn't wait so we let Tilly organize one for us. We were going to have a boy. Chris was over the moon.

"I was bored and I am fine Chris" I said from the ladder..

"Get down here bro...I do not care you're giving me hart attack. I would you I will do it" He helped me down.

"I love you Chris but I am literally not made of glass" I hugged him and have him quick kiss.

"Yes you are...I missed you both today..." He put his hands on my belly and smiled.

"We missed you too" I said and smiled.

That night we were laying in bed reading. Yes, reading. Both of us were reading parenting books from Tilly.

"This is bullshit it is making me very anxious and I feel like the birth school is enough" He put the book down.

"Me too... honestly I have been thinking the same... everyone keeps telling us what to do and how... and it doesn't help. I mean, sure I take all the advice but in the same time I feel like we need to learn by ourself when he will be here" I said pitting book down.

"We should...You should rest and have the last months of this pregnancy for you...without any stress. And it is our last months just two of us...I wanna spend nice time with you without all of this" He took our books and put them down.

He took my hands into his and gave both of them a kiss.

"Come on a baby moon trip with me? Just two of us..." He asked looking at me and I smiled.

"Chris... this is so sweet" I said.

"Of course..." I aded and leaned in to kiss him.

We both decided that we felt the most comfortable and happy on Cape Cod in the cabin. That's also were we met so we wanted to go there. We rented our own cabin just in case his family wanted to use the other one. It was summer time so they were coming a lot. And also because we just really wanted to be alone. We spend everyday on the beach if it wasn't too hot for me. If it was we would just stay in and watch tv or play games together. I couldn't be more happier than I was with him there.

"You do cheesy sometimes...That I think my eyes are watering" I said when I saw him putting seashells in heart shape on my belly.

"Shut up.... it is cute" He said and made my pose to pictures.

"You're cute....youre such a dad already" I laughed looking at him.

"No I am not...youre just really beautiful" He laughed while laying down next to me on his stomach and on his the towel.

"Thank you Chris.... for that and for taking me here..." I said.

"Anytime mama" He kissed my nose and I scrunch it.

"Calling me mama is crazy" I laughed at him and he only wiggled his eyebrows at me.

And all the tiktoks about how you always thought your partner was hot but after seeing him carrying your baby home it is just something else? Well....seeing Chris with our son in his carseat on our way from the hospital to the car. I was ready to have another one right there.

He was so natural already. He was there for whole process panicking, but he was there. We both cried as hell when they put our baby on my chest. He cut the cord and he couldn't stop staring at our little man.

Our son was healthy and really loud. Thats how we knew Chris was the father. I am joking but for real little guy was a copy of Chris. He looked exactly like the triplets when they ere born.

We decided to name him Cali. We both were struggling with name and when we were watching tv one day someone used it as a name and we just looked at each other and we knew that this is going to be the name. I wanted it to start with C like Chris's name which he was happy about and said that if we have a daughter one day he wants her name to start with my initials.

As we brought Cali home he was a different baby. He was calm and we slept and ate well. I couldn't stop taking pictures of him and Chris. He was such a boy dad. All the stories he was telling him and they both napped together. He was doing everything equally with me. The changing, the feeding, bath time. Everything. I was very proud of how we handled it all.

Noa was Cali's biggest fan. She was almost one. She was walking already and every time they were over here she couldn't stop just sitting next to Cali. She was giving him her binky and just hugging him. We even took a picture where it looks like she is holding him by herself.

"Now tell me... isn't this the hotter thing ever?" Tilly asked me when we were watching Chris and Matt from the kitchen.

"Tilly...it fucking is I swear to god I am ready to have 5 more" I said and sat on the kitchen island next to her. We were having some wine and Chips.

Matt and Chris were playing on xbox while Cali was asleep on Chris's chest and Noa was asleep on Matt's. Nick wasn't here because he had some kind of event going on.

"Just bunch of dads" she laughed and took a sip from her glass.

"Dilfs if you ask me" I added and put my empty glass down.

"Alright... you know that we can hear you, right? I am going to confiscate the wine... I swear" Matt looked at us.

"Oh shut up you love it...."Tilly said and he just shook his head.

"Also 5 more is crazy baby...But I am fluttered" Chris looked at me. and winked.

I laughed and me and Tilly cleaned up a little and went to seat next to them.

I couldn't believe that we had two babies in the family and one of them was mine. I was a mother and it honestly was the best thing that happened to me. My missing piece.

My little family was all I needed right now.

[ediewentmissing]

angst and comfort :(

You jolt up from Eddie’s bed in a cold sweat. You feel gross. Your hands are clammy and your face is wet with tears. As you drift into proper consciousness, visions from your nightmare flicker through your mind; Eddie slowly levitating up and into the air while you’re frantically searching for his favourite mixtape, bawling your eyes out as his bones snap one by one and his body topples in a heap on the hardwood floor.

You start to crying again, sniffling and hiccuping. You go to recite music in your mind, lyrics one by one. Music is your main coping strategy, so this time when it can’t calm you down, you go to your only other source - your best source - of happiness: Eddie. 
The problem was that Eddie just came home from a nine hour shift at the automotive, and he was exhausted. He went to bed almost immediately, throwing himself onto the sofa and drifting goff within minutes.

You didn’t want to wake him up.

You sobbed in bed for a while longer, slowly weighing the pros and cons of interrupting his well-deserved sleep.

Eventually, you told yourself, Fuck it, and got out of the blankets.

The springs groaned underneath you as you got up. It was only then that you realised how torn up you really were. The night air hit your body and you could feel the grogginess floating away, being replaced by sheer cold. You nervously shuffled your way to the living room, shivering a bit.

Eddie’s body lay peacefully on the sofa, sloppily covered by the worn-out blanket on top of him that you offered him before he retired for the night.

You stood nearby, watching his chest rise and fall and listening to his slightly heavy breathing. Although gazing at him was pleasantly calming at first, it soon brought back vivid flashes of the nightmare; screaming, shaking Eddie vigorously, trying desperately to get him to wake up, his empty eye sockets and bleeding face staring back at you. The thoughts make you choke down a sob and Eddie stirs.

“E-Eddie?” You hesitate, but finally being yourself to speak up. He stirs again. “Eddie?”

He hums in response, not recognising the anxiousness in your voice because he’s still half-asleep. You walk up to him, trembling from the cold and from fear and tap his head lightly. You sniffle and he opens his eyes to find you looking terrified. He blinks a couple times to get himself to awaken completely.

He sits up and beings you in for a hug, as you shed tears against his shirt, “Hey, hey, hey. Sh. It’s okay. ‘M here. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart.”

You sit down with him and bury your head deep in his chest, wanting to be held and wanting to feel his heart beat to confirm that he was well and truly alive.

He holds your head and runs his calloused fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly with one hand and holding your lower back with the other. His body is warm. It’s like hugging a teddy bear. It feels perfect against your icy flesh.

He waits until you’ve settled down, your breathing was still hitching regularly, but the sobbing had stopped. He pulls you away from his chest so he can see your face, dotting kisses on your forehead and rubbing your arm.

“What happened?”

“Nightmare…” You pause, “again.” He pulls you in again and rests his chin on your head.

“S-Sorry.” You splutter, guilt suddenly striking you.

“No, no. Don’t be. Not your fault in the slightest.” His voice vibrates against you soothingly.

“Uh,” You look down, separating yourself from him, “Could you come and sleep with me in the bed?” And his big, comforting smile told you everything you needed to know.

[hey-kae]

A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack

Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃

A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:

He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.

He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.

Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.

The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.

The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.

He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.

Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.

“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.

It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.

Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.

Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.

His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.

You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.

An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.

Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.

He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.

Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.

With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”

Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.

“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.

However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.

“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.

Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.

“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.

“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.

“Baguettes?” He frowned.

“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”

Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.

The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”

Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.

You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.

“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.

“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.

Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.

“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.

However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.

“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”

You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.

By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.

Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”

However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.

His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.

“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.

With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”

“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”

His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”

The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”

“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.

“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”

“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”

That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.

“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.

Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.

“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.

✩★✩

A cake and a weird smell:

The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.

And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.

In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.

Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.

Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.

Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.

“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.

Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.

Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.

Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.

Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.

Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.

“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.

With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.

It was bad.

His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.

Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.

The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.

What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.

He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.

His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.

Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.

“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.

The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.

Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.

“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.

Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.

He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.

He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.

“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.

Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.

Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.

Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.

You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.

He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.

Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.

His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.

He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.

Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.

There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.

He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.

His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.

He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.

He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.

That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.

His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.

He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.

Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.

“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.

“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.

Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.

“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”

You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.

He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.

“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.

You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.

“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”

You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.

He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.

However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.

“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.

It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.

✩★✩

A flight and a bit of a fight:

Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.

For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.

Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.

It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.

Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.

He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.

“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”

No response.

He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”

No response as well.

“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.

He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.

He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.

“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.

He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?

Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.

“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.

“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.

“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.

Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!

“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.

“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.

“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.

“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.

“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”

The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.

All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.

“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.

Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.

You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.

“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.

“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”

With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.

“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.

You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.

“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.

On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.

“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.

✰★✰

A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:

Charles was so sure he had it covered.

As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.

He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.

Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.

He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.

Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.

Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.

He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.

Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.

His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.

He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.

Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.

Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.

“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.

“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.

“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.

“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.

“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.

Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.

“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.

“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.

“I’m sure, don’t worry.”

You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.

“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.

“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.

“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”

You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.

His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.

Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.

The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.

He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?

What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.

He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.

Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?

The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.

With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.

He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.

Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.

“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.

The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.

“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.

Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?

He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.

Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.

He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.

It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.

He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.

Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.

Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn’t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.

Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.

In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.

His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.

He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.

Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.

In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.

Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.

“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.

Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.

You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.

“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.

“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.

His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.

“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.

With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.

Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.

He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.

“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”

“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”

Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.

“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”

“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.

“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.

You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.

“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.

You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.

Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.

“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.

“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.

He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.

“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.

Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.

You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”

Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.

“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.

Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.

a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

visiting König's humble abode

(MDNI, cw: talking about not wanting to have children)

the part before: sending him a naughty pic (nsfw)

The whole day long, there is this certain pep in my step. The knowledge that I did something a little dirty… the pics we sent back and forth… and the promise that I’m gonna see him again in just a few hours has me on cloud nine. My cheeriness caught on and one of my colleagues even asked me what had gotten into me, and I just shrugged it off, still not able to hide the grin that’s adorning my face.

When I get home from work, I pack a small bag of the bare minimum I need, in case this is a sleepover kind of situation – which I am kind of hoping for, not gonna lie, then I wait for him on the curb in front of the apartment complex again. Just like yesterday.

His car drives down the street and just seeing it, makes me grin from ear to ear again. It feels familiar by now, waiting for him to pick me up – even though this is just the third time. Today is a little bit different from yesterday. I don’t feel any of the tensity when he stops the car right in front of me. He looks like a dream, in the simple black shirt, that hugs his tattooed biceps just right, unintentionally showing them off when his arm reaches back behind the passenger seat, as he waits for me to enter.

A light blush creeps up my cheeks, when my mind comes back to what we did in the backseat. And then I also think about our long… conversation this morning. The pics of him. The…

My thoughts get pulled away when his face lights up in a smile, the seriousness vanishing as the corners of his mouth turn up. His brows not quite so furrowed anymore. The laughlines around his eyes highlighting the spark in them. Which makes the big scary looking guy not look scary at all. I realise that I’m mirroring his joyful expression – and yeah, the sex has been really fucking great so far, but more than that: I’m just happy to see him again.

I get in the car, greeting him with a simple “Hi”, leaning forward to give him a kiss while I drop my bag on the floor between my feet. He grabs me, his hand spanning across my throat, his thumb and pointer gently digging into my jaw. He pulls me into him, pressing his lips to mine, hot and heavy, his tongue stroking against mine, tasting me. His hold on me is still soft, but the way he just grabbed me… A hint of possessive. Needy. Almost desperate. And I answer his kiss with the same frenzy.

When he lets go of me, I’m panting and a little dizzy, it honestly could have been minutes or just seconds. I don’t think anybody ever kissed me like this. And I want him to do it all again. Preferably while he’s buried deep inside me.

“Hi.”, he says back, the corner of his mouth tipping up into a smirk. The hazy feeling dissipates and I recognize the band that’s playing on the car’s speakers.

“Oh, you finally listened to Sleep Token!”, I exclaim. It is one of the bands I told him to listen to because they have been consistently on the top of my list this last year.

“I did.”, he says, while he pulls out of the driveway.

“And how do you like them?”, I ask, a bit nosy.

He shrugs. “They’re nice and chill, I guess.” He smiles at me, a little sparkle of amusement in the corner of his eyes. “Although I have to say, I’m a bit surprised that you like ‘em so much, they’re much ‘softer’ than the stuff you usually listen to.” which has me giggling a little bit.

“That might be true.”, I chuckle. “I can’t explain it either, but the lyrics and everything just has me in a chokehold.”

The last beats of ‘Vore’ fade out and ‘Sugar’ starts playing, the sultry voice and the soft sounds filling the car and I grin to myself.

“You know what they jokingly call that genre?”, I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No, I don't.”

“Baby making metal.” The grin that adorns my cheeks is almost bigger than my face.

He shoots me a look, half amusement, half serious contemplation. “But what if you’re not making babies?”, he finally asks.

I furrow my brows, but my grin stays on, albeit not being as wide anymore. “Well, it’s supposed to be a joke, like tongue-in-cheek, you know because the music is all sensual and sexy. Like not actually making babies, you know, I wouldn’t even want t-”, I break off, biting my tongue.

Silence engulfs us for just a moment, a moment where we both seem to contemplate what to say now.

“I actually got a prescription for taking the pill.”, I tell him then. Called my gynecologist during lunchbreak and picked them up on my way home.

He whips his head in my direction, to look at me. “Why- but- I'm not gonna be on leave for that much longer, we-”, he stumbles through three possible answers at the same time.

“Don't worry about it, it was my decision.”, I explain, a lopsided grin on my face, because I maybe could have brought it up another way.

His eyes dart to me for another quick look. “I see. What made you uh- decide that?”, he wants to know, friendly curiosity in his voice.

“If something happens, like the condom breaks – which is a possibility –, we still have a failsafe. All the fun of ‘making babies’ without making actual babies.”, I joke, feeling a bit uneasy underneath the grin on my face, because talking about babies with the guy you just started sleeping with is… well, let’s just say, there are more comfortable subjects. But when my eyes are drawn to him again, seeing how relaxed he seems now, it puts me at ease as well.

He smiles at me again. “I can understand that.”, he says.

Another silence, the music still softly playing. The silences with him are not uncomfortable, I mean, they never have been so far, and there were quite some when we went to the concert in the beginning of the week. The moments when I thought I had already talked to much, even if he was content just listening to me, because he’s not a big talker.

So, I’m a bit surprised when he starts to speak again first.

“So… and you don’t have to answer, of course, if that’s too personal of a question. You don't want any children … ever?”, he asks, his soft voice bringing a lightness to the question.

“I don’t really want any ever, yeah.”, I answer assertively, shrugging at the same time. “Not in this life.”

I look to the side, at him. Thinking that he might say something along those lines of 'oh, you're gonna change your mind when you're older'. The same shit I always hear. ‘You’re still young, just wait a few years.’

But he doesn't. "I see.", is all he comments.

I’m still looking at him, not able to hide my surprise, but I don’t actually say anything.

"What? You're not gonna have me argue against that.", he mutters, and I can feel the moment of hesitation before he continues speaking: "I don't feel like my job is really compatible with a partner and family." and sighs and shrugs. "So, I came to terms with never having one quite some time ago." He turns to look at me. "I understand, as somebody who had a hard time explaining that to his own family, and I'm just a man."

I sigh as well. “Yeah, but it is what it is. It’s not their life after all.”

He smiles at me, the smile only barely reaching his eyes, something I’ve never seen from him before. “That’s right.”

I clasp my hand over his that’s holding the gearshift, caressing it for a bit. He lifts it and squeezes my fingers softly, a little reassuring gesture.

“We’re almost there.”, he says, smiling a little more relaxed again.

I knew he couldn't live too far away from me because he never takes long to get to my apartment. I’ve been watching the way he drove us, surprised when he took a few turns that lead to the outskirts of the city. And when he tells me that we’re there soon, I look out the window more intently, almost pressing my face up against the cool glass to see better, missing some light because of the darkening sky.

Little patches of forest, few fields in between, and a single road that passes his house. No neighbors in sight.

My jaw drops when I see it. It's not a big house by any means, but it has a facade that seems to be from the last century at least. Simple frescoes adorn the top of every single window, up until the round one right under the dark tiled roof. Ivy ranks up the whole right side of the grey painted walls.

I don't know what I expected. Same like with his car. Seeing the house now makes so much sense, but if you had asked me before, I probably would have guessed he had a modern, but simple three-room-apartment. Not a house with a white-picket-fence and a little garden, leading further into a small patch of green woodland.

He opens up the garage door with the push of a button and parks the car in there. I get out, not waiting for him to open the door for me, looking around all nosy. The garage has a little workshop and some gardening tools. Another set of tires for his car. And something else hidden away under some tarp. Wheels peaking out at the bottom that kind of look like they belong to … a bike?

I hear the cardoor shut and his steps when he approaches me. "That is the door that leads inside.", he tells me, gesturing in the direction. A grin adorns his face. "If you wanna take a look." And he knows my nosy ass enough to know, that I sure as shit want to.

I nod – more excited than I should be – and push through it, entering the main part of the house. I kick off my shoes, leaving them right there, beside the entrance door.

The corridor is plain white, a singular lamp lighting it up, a simple sidetable on the right side, a wall mounted rack with his jackets, although it’s half empty, and a rack for the shoes underneath.

I run by a kitchen, with white cabinets and grey marble worktops. A cooking island in the middle of the room. A big ass fridge, even though he lives alone. I guess it takes a lot of food to keep his physique up.

I head a little further down the hallway, until I reach the centerpiece of the house.

The living room surprisingly bright for all the dark furniture that’s placed inside. Curtains hang in front of the huge windows, pulled to the side, letting in lots of light and showing off the little garden outside. A door leads out to the patio.

A big black couch, with soft looking cushions. A simple end table and a lamp beside it.

A tiled fireplace on the one wall, stairs leading both upstairs and downstairs in the corner of the room.

But there is one thing that pulls my attention.

I’m completely mesmerized by the wall of books in front of me, spanning from one side to the other. I look at the whole shelf, every single row of books. In between, there is some open space with a TV hanging from the wall and quite a huge soundsystem on the wooden furniture. On the lower shelfs beneath, there is a plethora of vinyls, some seeming pretty old, others are obviously newer, and also CDs like the ones in his car.

I go back over the books, my fingers brushing over their backs as I read the titles and authors. Lots of classic horror and thrillers like ‘The Shining’, books in German that I can’t pronounce, even though I recognise the name Goethe, but also Sunzi’s ‘The Art of War’. Some books on philosophy and technical handbooks. But most of it is entertainment literature.

“I read a lot when I’m on leave.”, he explains, which makes me look back at him. He’s leaning in the door frame, a door frame he doesn’t even really fit in. The signature black jeans, a simple black shirt that hugs his biceps with the way he has his arms crossed in front of his chest. His hair hanging down to the side, the tips of it grazing over the tattooed skin, when he moves his head talking. My god, can he stop being this attractive?

“I can see that. I’m quite jealous of your collection, to be honest.”, I say.

“You can borrow any of them, if you’d like.”, he offers.

“Really?!”, I exclaim excitedly, already inspecting the rows for some fitting subjects, but my eyes dart back to him. Waiting for an answer.

He shrugs, but the little smile on his lips stays on. “Yes, I mean I have read most of them, I guess they deserve to be read by somebody else as well.” That little piece of information gives so much about him away. He lives here alone – at least staying here when he is on leave – and he must stay alone most of the time. With what I know now, that he hasn’t really been dating the last few years and that he doesn’t plan on having a partner… It feels so contradictory to the house that is too big for one person, even for a giant like him. What about his friends though? He surely got friends that come over from time to time, no?

I turn back to the books, a simple “Okay” on my lips, not knowing what else to say, the familiar feeling tensing up my shoulders, while I still search for some I’d actually want to read.

His eyes are on me the whole time, just watching, observing, what I’m doing. I can feel them on my backside, trailing down my whole body, and I’m a bit self-conscious that I only put on simple leggings and an oversized shirt, even though it’s a cute one. After my special outfit choice at the concert, I didn’t want to keep up any unrealistic expectations, and this is what I would have worn visiting somebody on any other Friday. It isn’t a date, technically, he just asked if he could “kidnap” me, so… I still hope, he thinks it’s cute.

I pull out books that sound interesting, some familiar, some not so much. Until I have a pile of them in my grasp, Jules Verne’s ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas’ right at the top.

“I’ll read through them a bit later and then choose which to take with me, okay?”, I reassure myself with six books on my arm, looking at the big guy still only standing there.

“Sure, take whatever you like, Kleine.”, and the expression on his face lets me believe for just a second, that he might mean more than just his books. I ignore the tingle that rolls down my spine, as I set them down on the end table next to the couch.

My eyes find him again, darting to the stairs leading up. “So…” I sway from one foot to another, while a little bratty smile plays around the corners of my mouth. “You got a bedroom in your abode as well?”

His gaze darkens in an instant, the soft smile turning into that damned smirk that makes my knees weak, but there is also some reprimand in his look. He pushes himself off the doorframe, stalking closer with slow, big strides. “I do indeed have a bedroom.”, he answers, his voice a tad deeper than before.

I grin at him, feeling like red riding hood coaxing the big bad wolf. “You wanna show me ooor…?”, I continue. The tension between us flurries through the air, I can almost feel the moment of suspension prickling at my fingertips, before I dart away and he leaps forward, catching up to me in just two quick steps.

He grabs me, which makes me squeal and giggle, and throws me over his shoulder. I wriggle in his hold on me, playfully straining against his arm securing me there, but it’s futile anyways. “Stop it, Fräulein.”, he grunts, slapping my ass – once – with his other hand. I yelp again, but a bright grin stalks onto my lips as I tease him with a “Yes sir”, that earns me another spank.

next part: hanging off König's shoulder or more Stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: thanks for tuning into this plot part of the pwp - the other p will follow... uni in january is kicking my butt, so bear with me, the next five parts are already in the works - "just" need to finish them (will take more time)🫠 i might also post some more random scenes, that don't fit the plot right now - or possibly never - that are just sitting in my drafts and thanks for reading, as always <3 (it makes my day to see names coming back everytime c':)

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: “Whhhew...! That was-”

Vaggie: “A lot?”

Charlie: “-better than expected!”

Vaggie: “No kidding. If I’d known inviting your dad here would get Alastor looking like a wet cat, I’d’ve pushed for it sooner.”

Charlie: “I’m just glad you pushed when you did.” (smooch) “Thank you. I’ve missed him.”

Vaggie: “Looks like he’s really missed you too, babe.”

Charlie: “Mm. Not enough to call, though.”

Vaggie: “Ehh, calling can be scary. Good thing you’re plenty brave.”

Charlie: “Only when you’re holding my hand!”

Vaggie: “Husk would say that’s an act of fucking bravery all on it’s own, letting yourself get grabbed by the small, mean, grumpy lady. Remind me not to help him out at the bar again ever. I think there’s vodka in my hair.”

Charlie: “I’ll try, but you know you’re gonna help anyway.” (second smooch) “Can I get a ‘you’re welcome’?”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Charlie, I didn’t do anything.”

Charlie: “You do lots.”

Vaggie: “And thank hell Angel Dust isn’t around to hear that…”

Charlie: “I’m serious! You got me to call dad in the first place!”

Vaggie: “I just suggested it, you’re the one who did it, and you two worked things out together like a real father-daughter team.”

Charlie: “And we’re a great team too.”

Vaggie: “Well I’m definitely a pretty big fan of us. Although…. Sir Pentious and Keekee are giving us a run for our money. And the Niffty plus a lock of Lucifer’s hair combo might just have us beat.”

Charlie: “Blegh! She actually got that in the end? I thought her scissors couldn’t even cut it!”

Vaggie: “They didn’t. She used my spear.”

Charlie: “She WHAT-”

Vaggie: “And asked your dad very nicely to please take off his hat so she could trim off a piece without ruining the rest of his hair.”

Charlie: (sigh) “I guess as long as she ASKED…”

Vaggie: “D’you think her whole room is just a shrine to quote unquote bad boys?”

Charlie: “Oh don’t say that. We need to introduce her to some boybands or something.”

Vaggie: “We?”

Charlie: “Yes ‘we’, little miss likes making lesbian covers of the songs normally sung by teenage boys while you’re in the shower and think the sound of running water can in any way drown out your beautiful, heart stopping voice-”

Vaggie: “I- you- You’ve been listening!?”

Charlie: “Eeeev-er-y morning yep! Heheh~”

Vaggie: “Diablo mio… I need a drink.”

Charlie: (giggling) “To go with the vodka hair?” (nibbles Vaggie’s fringe) “Nom nom nom. Delicious~”

Vaggie: “Scratch that- clearly WE need some SLEEP.”

Charlie: “How can I sleep at all tonight, though? Vaggie- we’re gonna get a meeting with the top angels of creation! We’re gonna be on cloud nine! Literally! In HEAVEN!!”

Vaggie: “And sleep won’t be enough to prepare me for that but you definitely need it.”

Charlie: “It’s impossible! I need to SING!!!!!”

Vaggie: “You need to go shuck off those shoes and get in your ruby slippers while I put in your fav movie so we can get some rest.”

Charlie: “If you put in the Wizard of Oz you know I’m 100% gonna sing anyway right.”

Vaggie: “Yeah, but you’ll be singing in bed so you can keep watching the movie, and that’s good enough for me.”

Charlie: “I love youuuu~”

Vaggie: “Love you too sweetie. Slippers. Bed. Z’s. Now.”

Charlie: (kicks off shoes) “Ta da! There’s no place like home!"

Charlie: (clicks hooves together)

Charlie: "Heheheheh...!”

Vaggie: “I meant on the bed in your pajamas and under the actual covers- vaya, whatever. Scoot. Don’t go running off to Oz without me.”

Charlie: (snuggling vaggie in a hug instead) “I’m never going anywhere without you, Vaggie. Including heaven.”

Vaggie: (awkward laugh) “Great…”

Charlie: “Wanna know whyyyy?”

Vaggie: (smiles) “I make a great hand-holder, apparently.”

Charlie: “Yes. And, you’re home.”

Vaggie: “….yeah? I’m here? This is our room?”

Charlie: (snorting) “Vaggie-”

Vaggie: “In our hotel??”

Charlie: “Vaggie nooo- Anywhere else would be home too, with you there.”

Vaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: (deep breath)

Vaggie: “…... Charlie-”

Charlie: “You gonna press play?”

Vaggie: “-huh? Oh. Yeah.”

Charlie: (snuggling her) “This has been an amazing day. Wish every day could be like this, forever.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.” (hoarse) (curling up as close to charlie as she can) "Me too.”

-101 minutes of Oz later-

Vaggie: "Charlie?"

Charlie: "... nnnoooo..."

Vaggie: "Charlie, c'mon, at least let's get your coat off."

Charlie: "Mmrrr... mi mi mi..."

Vaggie: "You can go 'snork mi mi mi' afterwards. Work with me here, Dorothy- I can't get you settled into Oz without help."

Charlie: "Hmmheheheh... so im Dorothy..?"

Vaggie: "Definitely. You've got the ruby slippers on and everything."

Charlie: "I love that you call my hooves that~ Thats so silly. You're so silly, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "And you're already half asleep. Suspenders next, okay?"

Charlie: "Remove the suspenders... delete the suspenders..."

Vaggie: "Get your horns tangled in the suspenders somehow, wait, hold on-"

Charlie: "SUSPEND the SUSPEDERS!"

Vaggie: "Alright, good enough. That's all the annoying stuff gone anyway. You should be good like that, right?"

Charlie: "Sleeeeeepy. Snuggles?"

Vaggie: "Snuggles right after I change, give me one sec okay."

Charlie: "Mmm."

Charlie: "...vaggie."

Vaggie: "That was half a second."

Charlie: "Vaggiiiiie."

Vaggie: "I'm right over here, stop making grabby hands."

Charlie: "Vaggggiiiiiiiee...!"

Vaggie: (huffs) "Fine, fine..." (snuggles) "Not like my nightie would cover much anyway. But if we end up having to get up in the middle of the night for something exploding again, you're going out first, and I'm stealing your jacket."

Charlie: "You look good in my clothes."

Vaggie: "I look like a ten year old. The sleeves have to be rolled back to the elbow just so I have hands."

Charlie: "I like your hands..."

Vaggie: "Thanks." (kiss) "Go to sleep, Charlie."

Charlie: "Wait- heheheh- wait, Vaggie-"

Vaggie: "What?"

Charlie: "Vaggie, Vaggieeee~!"

Vaggie: "Giggling into my boobs isn't helping me understand what you're saying, babe."

Charlie: "Vaggie. If I'm Dorothy, and youuuu are GAY, then.."

Vaggie: "Little scared to see where this is going, not gonna lie."

Charlie: "Does that make-" (snickers) "Does that make you a girlfriend of Dorothy's?"

Vaggie: "............."

Charlie: "Vaggie~?"

Vaggie: "...Charlie. Please."

Vaggie: "Go the fuck to sleep."

Charlie: "HEH!"

[like-a-omen]

Best friend! Folio

@darling-millicent-aubrey @alloraiona @english-fucker @pathion @foliosgirl @livingdeceasedgirl

18+ below the cut minors DNI

Best friend folio would definitely drag you along on fishing trips to keep him company. When it's quiet between bites he's pulled you close under the blanket rubbing slow circles on your clit, you know later when he calls it a night he's going to fuck you in the tent as his way of saying thank you for coming with him. Without warning he picks up the pace catching you off guard as a loud moan escaped you causing him to smirk at your reaction, now pulling you in for a sloppy kiss as his fingers entered you to muffle your moans you feel that familiar knot building. Your close and he knows it the way your grinding your hips into his hand tells him all he needs to know, a sudden beeping of the bite alarm pulls you back to earth and folio away from you to start reeling in the fish "sorry babe got a bite!" In that moment all you could think was fuck that fish.

Best friend folio setting up a nice little smoke session for just the two of you after hearing how rough your day at work had been, ever seen your text he's been snack shopping and pre rolling preparing for your evening. You finally arrive at his and are greeted with a big bear hug before leading you to the sofa the coffee table laid out with everything you guys will need, as you both lay there cuddled up joint passing between you both you slowly felt the stress from today melt away. Folio laid there stroking your hair and you couldn't help but smile thinking how did you get so lucky to have such a caring best friend, it was always that boys mission to make you smile and he was pretty damn good at it.

Best friend folio would 100% take any opportunity to make you laugh watching you light up like that always brightens his day, plus he thinks your laugh is just adorable he'd make it your personal ringtone if you let him. Even in the bedroom he will try to make you laugh the way it makes you clench around him puts that boy on cloud nine, thrusting into you while he's making you laugh just gives your boobs that exta bounce that he just loves.

Best friend folio would love it when you ask to go out on his bike with him, you was cruising along with no real destination but that's what made it even better you'd always find the most stunning locations. You watched the world go by arms wrapped round him tight just getting lost in the scenery it was a great way to clear your head, folio had offered plenty of times to help you learn so you could ride together and as much as you loved that idea you'd miss admiring the views. Typically you'd stop by some lake he finds before heading back, but you didn't mind you loved watching him get all excited scoping out a new potential fishing spot.

Best friend folio noticed your gaze fixated on his arms as he was practicing a new drum solo, he just knew your mind was going to some very dirty places. "Hey Y/N can you chuck the towel?" No answer "Earth to Y/N?" He snapped his fingers a few times dragging you out of your fantasy, you felt a blush creep across your face realising you'd been caught but also not having a clue what he just asked you. "Umm I thought it was great.. looked really technical" he laughed before heading over to grab the towel himself wiping away the sweat, you couldn't help but bite your lip as you watched. "Bit distracted are we? Wanna tell me what we was up to or do you wanna act it out? " That's how you ended up bent over his drum stool, the grip he had on your hips was definitely going to leave bruises but you didn't care.

Best friend folio wouldn't admit it but he'd definitely get jealous if other guys were chatting you up at a party, he could tell that they only intended to use you for the night and you just didn't deserve that. He watched this guy like a hawk and just didn't like the vibes he was giving off, so once he left he decides to save you from a night of disappointment. "Hey Y/N this party is a bit lame wanna come back to mine and have a smoke?" Shortly after you both was in a uber on the way to folios the guy that was flirting with you wasn't that interesting anyway, besides he probably couldn't fuck you better than your best friend. Folio definitely made sure it wasn't a disappointing night you started to wonder if come round for a smoke was just code for sex, because here you are getting absolutely railed into next week by your best friend.

Hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this one so expect some more best friend folio in the future 😉

[noxturnalmoth]

°~Death becomes Us~°

Chapter 8: Bowlcut wearing twink manlet

warnings: suggestive jokes, kay why ess jokes, overall meme-ism, college shit, scara x f!reader

After waking up to a pretty bad hangover at 2 p.m, and spending the whole day groaning at my sore muscles from jumping fences when I hadn't in months, Shinobu and I made our way to the bathroom. One on the toilet, one in the shower, and then an exchange of positions made by sluggish bodies as the one who is done cleaning herself goes to wake herself up from the hungover haze.

"Remind me to never do this ever again." I mumble as i wash my face and she laughs. "As if, we both know it will, especially with those dudes. But we do got momma's boy with us so we're pretty safe all things considered." I hear from the shower.

I sigh, knowing she's right. "He ain't a momma's boy, don't let him hear you say that crap or he's gonna wring you like a wet towel." I say, leaving the bathroom to get ready in my own room, picking out makeup and clothes that scream 'end of term party, i'm not a nerd for tonight, i'm a bad bitch'. And it's at 6:30 p.m that Shinobu and I are finally done with our preparations and we get to the outside of the dorms, making our way to the other side of the campus, a long walk that makes me regret my choice of shoes but beauty is pain and I look really fucking good.

"I mean do you think what we brought was enough?" I say worried at the few bottles and snacks we brought. "Well we're nine people, if everyone brought something, we'll have more than enough. Plus we'll probably order." I nod anxiously at her words and Shinobu puts her arm around my shoulder lovingly. "Really, we already love you tons, all of us, i don't know about Scara cuz he's an ass, but at least almost all of us do. You don't need to prove anything by being an overly giving person." I breathe out a shaky sigh and hold her hand that lays on my upper arm, nodding at her as we get closer to the dorms Heizou and Scara live in.

Getting there we knock, the door opened by a smiling Kazuha who welcomes us in, and as we take off our shoes I'm lifted off the ground. "Hey bug!" "Sup you big burly hunk." We laugh as Wriothesley hugs me tight, leading us to the living room where everybody was.

"You're late." Grumbled a familiar bitter voice. "Well, we took time getting ready to look good. The same couldn't be said about you, you twink manlet." I say to the indigo haired man as I ruffle his hair, him being just a little taller than me. With that he scoffs with a smirk. "At least I don't have to litterally hide how I really look to look decent, uggo." I fake spit on his feet as i turn to go greet the rest of the boys, hugging and making small talk as we start to set up the snacks, food and drinks.

"Thanks again for my earphones Y/N, really. They mean so much to me, being bought by Teucer with the money he made at his first part time job, I was losing it thinking they were gone." Ajax, less rowdy than behind a screen, tells me softly as he takes glasses from the cupboard above me and i smile at him. "No problem, you got a family you cherish, they give you things that you cherish aswell. I couldn't just leave you like this. But you should also thank Scara, he's the one who asked me."

He hums and said he did, that he was even surprised at how 'gentle' the indigo haired boy had been. "He's hardened, bitter and angry, full of resentment. But he ain't a bad guy, if he didn't like you he wouldn't have given you an out. He's just terrified of letting people in."

I nod, relating to what was said, truth is i'm afraid too, of all these new friends. What if it's all just make believe. What if they all hate me, now or in the future. What if I'm just a means to an end. I know that I'll have Wriothesley no matter what, but...I want the group aswell. All of them, with their qualities and flaws, because being around them in college was the first time I ever felt like I belonged. It's my driving force along my harsher, rage fueled need to defend and protect people by becoming a medical examiner.

The evening rolls around, and drinks, food and a few joints are shared as conversations flow. A peaceful yet energic, joyful atmosphere filling the room, the cold, crisp december air forgotten for the warmth of good company as people cheer on Ajax and Wriothesley while they play just dance, constantly one upping one another as we all sang along to the songs. Shinobu and I dancing in the back while Cyno and Heizou join, our own dance party starting before we switch places with those on the game.

"I bet I can outdance the bowlcut wearing twink manlet." I say confidently, stretching for my fifth dance of the night, everybody laughing and spuring us on 'fight, fight, fight' chanted as Scaramouche circled around me, scowling before a devious smirk appears on his face. "Only if your fat ass can even move as well as I can." "AWWW Thanks! My ass IS phat. Continue like this and i might think you got a crush on me Scaradouche." "I'm gonna fucking shank you." "Try me Beyoncé."

And dance we did, trying to hold up until the other collapsed, winning as many times as we could. And it went on, and on, the elated and loud chanting persevering until we both collapsed. "I win, midget." I pant, sweating and panting as i lay like a starfish on the ground. "Fucking whatever you fence hopping orphan." I raise my eyebrows at his insult, mustering up my best shocked face and everybody gasped. He slowly turns red, stuttering out what seems to be him trying to explain himself and maybe even appologize.

But then I laugh softly and tap his shoulder. "Can't say you're wrong about that bud." And I go play cards with the rest of the guys. Cyno wiping the floor with all of us although Xiao, Kazuha and Heizou do get close to bringing him down. By the end of the few rounds, Wriothesley and Ajax go do shots in the kitchen Xiao, Shinobu, and Heizou lazily and drunkenly lounge on the couch while Kazuha rolls a few joints, handing one to me as i go to the balcony, sitting on the freezing floor.

Lighting it up i take a deep inhale of the smoke, the disgusting taste ignored as i feel myself relax deeper. My body wrapped with a fluffy fleece blanket to combat the cold autumn air. "What the fuck are you doing out in the cold you dimwit?" I hear from behind me and sigh, snuggling deeper in the fleece. "Just needed some quiet, and a bit of fresh air. It kinda got stuffy in there." I chuckle, eyes lazily dragging to Scaramouche, who sits down next to me. "You're gonna get sick you manwhore." "You're also dressed lightly, you slut." He says as I open my blanket and wrap some of it against him, the sudden proximity feeling strange. But not necessarily bad.

Silence overcomes us as he lights up his own joint, go big or go home is what he said, and so I continued smoking mine looking up to the twinkling stars and bright full moon. It was nice, no energy exherted into silly banter that could dissolve in a fight, and although it had never happened Scaramouche can be a bit harsh and hurtful and I know that if I had just about enough I would bite his face off. I didn't want that out of respect not only for him and my friends, but also to myself.

"Why?" I turn to him confused and hum in question. "Why did you do the things you did when you were younger." I breathe in, inhaling smoke, and hum pensively as i blow it out. "Well you're no stranger to horrible parents right?" He nods. "Well, when horrible parents become even worse, and that you're a desperate child trying to stay alive, you quickly realize nobody will help you. That much was clear after doing my very best to beg for it. So I turned to petty crimes and felonies, getting myself in juvi for warm food, a roof over my head, and hygene amenities. Not great but no organization helped in this town, they all contacted my parents first, as if asking an abuser if they abused someone is gonna make them spit it out." I scoff, gripping the blanket. I saw from my peripheral vision that Scaramouche was looking at me but decided not to look back, in fear of what I'd see.

"Your mom brought me back there a lot, even if i was screaming, crying, begging. And she was the one to always bring me to juvi. And then the last time she did I was 17. Killed my folks. She trialled me as an adult because she was tired of me and sent me to jail, the judge was kind enough to realize it was in self defence so I only got a couple of years. Then started living as a civilian in a special refuge for 'reforming criminals', I decided to study to become a medical examiner, and now I'm 22 and I started those studies as a first step to say fuck you to the world, to your mom, and to become a better person that helps lock up assholes and bring peace to both the dead and the living. Plus, dead people aren't assholes, so I don't have to worry too much about wanting to bash someone's brains in."

I chuckle, shaking lightly with emotion and from the cold, misty eyes trying to blink tears away and failing. Without any words Scaramouche got closer, our shoulders and arms fully touching so we could share our heat. And silently i place my head on his shoulder, sighing softly as he tenses up and slowly relaxes again.

"Wriothesley's the only one who visited me in prison, we met when we were 12 in juvi. He was my partner in crime, then my friend, then my brother." "He's a good guy." I hear scaramouche say softly. "Nah, he's the best." He hums in agreement.

"She wasn't always like this." I breathe in, closing my eyes as i listen to his voice, his chest rumbling uncomfortably at the feeling of telling someone about something so personal. "She was a good mom, to me and to my half sister Shoko. A single mom to the both of us. Shoko was a bright kid, she was loving, kind, energetic. She died in a drunk driving accident, the whole bus did. SInce that case, Ei became cold, bitter, forceful, controlling. To the whole police department, but also to me. My step mother's the only one to know how to deal with her. God knows I stopped trying a long time ago after all the words, all the hits." He scoffs, bitterness seeping from every single one of his pores as he sniffles, the cold freezing his sinuses, the smoke from the joint roughing up his throat and lungs...eyes glazed.

"The way she brought me up, she made me hate people like you. Who needed to do anything to stay alive. I hated you for a long time before I realized what she was doing. Because to me you were part of the reason why Shoko died. Foolish, I know." He mutters. "But understandable. I hated you as a kid because I thought you had it easy, because you were your mother's son. Turns out, in a way, you and I aren't different."

"No, that's for sure. I committed petty crimes for rebellion and attention. They're not even in my file, she didn't accept the fact I could taint her reputation." I snort at this, pointing out the ridicule situation of the police chief's son committing crimes. "Damn Scaramouche, you're a bad boy huh?" I nudge him, raising and dropping my eyebrows fast as I smirked and he chuckled breathily. "We're past the monikers, call me Kuni." "Now THAT's adorable. Kuni. Kuniiiiiii. Kuuuuuuuuuniiiiii-" "Oh fuck off or I'm taking back that privilege AND cut you off." He huffs, smirking.

"Nah you won't now that we told each other our tragic backstories. Plus I'm still waiting for that free Brazilian too. You're stuck with me forever now." "Eat shit and die you fence hopping orphan." "Not before you do you bowlcut wearing twink manlet."

<prev. || m.list || next>

After a hard youth of commiting crimes and going to juvi to have a place to live, you finally decide to take your future in your own hands and make it into something you can be proud of. College is the beginning of your path to a new life, and it would be going great...if the son of the head of the local police wasn't hanging out with your friends.

Taglist: @kodzusmiles @vi0let-writes @eternallykira-143

[brattyfork]

matt nsfw alphabet

*these are about sex! if that makes you uncomfy, don’t read it!*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-the whole nine yards, a bath, drink, snacks, cuddles, your fav tv show, literally anything that will make you more comfortable he’ll do + sex debrief! talk abt what you liked, what you didn’t, what went “wrong”, what was funny+naked cuddles ofc.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-he loves your thighs, loves squeezing them, having them wrapped around his head, leaving hickies on them. also your stomach! he loves squishy.

he likes his hands, likes how big they are compared to yours, loves wearing rings bc he knows it drives you crazy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-loves cumming inside you (in a condom to avoid a mess lol) but also loves cumming on your tummy!!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-he’ll never admit it but he loves when you lick him, his neck, his stomach, literally anywhere. he also really likes amateur porn, so much so that you guys made your own so he can watch that instead.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-not super experienced, only has one or two bodies but he’s always asked you how to do stuff or what he can do to make you feel better so he’s much better than he used to be.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-sucker for missionary, wants to be able to kiss you and watch the faces you make. also loves when you ride him, watching you use his cock to get off.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-he tries to be serious but sometimes things just aren’t going right and you gotta laugh abt it. make sure he knows you’re not laughing AT him tho, it’ll ruin the mood entirely.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-usually just trims, doesnt wanna be bare but also doesn’t want it too long and def doesn’t want you getting pubes in your teeth lmao.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-always telling you how much he loves you during, wants to make it as special as possible so you know you’re not just a quick fuck.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-wants you to talk him through it over the phone, tell him how good he’s being and give him permission to cum eventually.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-unpopular opinion! i think this man likes your feet!! not super into foot jobs he just thinks your feet are cute. loves being in control but will never turn down the opportunity to be dominated. +basic shit like praise and degradation, choking to an extent. also loves edging and overstimulating you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-prefers to fuck in your bed so you have privacy, also likes the couch or car sometimes and very occasionally, wants to bend you over a table.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-just being close to you can get him worked up. it drives him crazy when you wear shorts or a skirt that hug your thighs so perfectly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-up for mostly anything unless it’s obviously gross, but gets nervous with any kind of impact play because he does not want to hurt you. also doesn’t love the idea of anal, kinda grosses him out.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-matt the munch! this man loves eating pussy and he’s phenomenal at it. he likes when you suck him off but he won’t ask. he wants you to want to do it if that makes sense.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-completely depends on how he’s feeling. if he’s super worked up, you won’t be able to walk the next day but sometimes he loves soft slow morning sex. either way the pace is always perfect and exactly what you both need.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-doesn’t love quickies, he wants to be able to take his time but sometimes if you haven’t fucked in a while and you have the opportunity for a quickie, he’ll take it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-up for trying (almost) anything once, he just gets nervous that he’ll hurt you or not do it right and embarrass himself.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-i think on a good night he could go 2-3 rounds but most of the time only 1, maybe 2. he doesn’t finish super fast unless it’s been awhile but he probably won’t last more than 20 min of straight fucking.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-doesn’t love toys, doesn’t have any for himself, not a fan of using dildos on you, he’d rather just fuck you. does like vibrators tho, and shit like handcuffs or restraints, perfect for overstimulation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-he tries to tease but it never lasts long. he can’t deny you when you make your pretty noises or beg him. also can’t resist you so it’s hard to tease lol.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-usually grunting and groaning all up in your ear. sometimes a whine or a whimper comes through and he gets all embarrassed, which is super hot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-loves when you ask him what bra/panties you should wear (his fav is a sparkly dark blue set)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-we’ve all seen his sleeper build. he’s not super muscular but he’s also not a twig, he’s strong and can throw you around. his dick isn’t super long, which doesn’t matter bc he knows how to use it, it’s proportional in length and width. his dick is as pretty as a cock can be. you KNOW this man has a cute butt and i imagine him having little lower back dimples🥺

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-he’s not a complete horn dog, he can turn it off and just have sweet romantic moments with no thought of sex, but he also finds you irresistible so it’s hard. he doesn’t want you to think he’s a horny man that can’t control himself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-he gets pretty sleepy after!! once he gets you all settled and makes sure your comfortable, he’s out like a light.

a/n: hi this was so fun, i’m also working on one for chris and i have a sfw template for both of them as well :) i promise i will post more soon lol, i been busy <3

[bluebunnyears-08]

Life Form With PTSD Meets Broken Eight Year Old (lol)

When that thing the kid and Shadow first interacted, Shadow had found him in what looked to be Eggman's base, only it seemed to be falling apart, debris and burning parts of the structure crashing and falling to the ground below in a city the doctor must've managed to take over. The civilians of the city surrounded the suddenly burning headquarters, curious on what happened. Just seeing the city brought shame and slight sadness to him. However, upon hearing about prisoners and people still being in there, Shadow went inside to try and help them to safety. The ruined and bleak state of the world he was supposed to protect, to keep safe, a godawful hellscape, with a giant building falling apart in the middle, revealing the insides like a blooming flower from hell.  He had a slightly morbid curiosity on who would do something like this and then sudden and unrelated rage that this to be because of Sonic shattering the world. If that blue idiot had just listened to him!-

He was interrupted from his raging thoughts when his ears perked up to metal clinking around on the ground of the long halls. He originally tensed thinking it was a robot, however, he quickly noted that the metallic foot falls were far too light and too fast for a tin robot. Not a second after that note, the shadow appeared in front of him at the end of the burning hall.

When he first saw the kid in the long hallway, he was originally unable to see them due to the fire behind it casting the thing in shadow. But when a part of the burning ceiling collapsed in front of them - and startling the life form into taking a sudden step back (the kid didn’t even flinch-) -  bringing it to light, he didn't know what to think or say out of shock and slight disgust. The sight of a convoluted, bruised, and starved jack-o-lantern, crawling around like a spider on metal tails, should’ve been the first clue that the fox wasn't stable.

The kit look awful. His fur was matted and tangled, heavy eye bags made dents underneath foggy blue eyes, blue eyes that didn't seem to have any thought behind them, that told a tale of indescribable horror, pain, and sorrow in them. They weren’t even looking at him, only staring ahead at a nothingness only they could see. He had several burn marks all over his body, neck, arms, legs, everywhere Shadow could see; some fur having been fried or shaved off, revealing pink, scorched, scabbed skin. His... clothes (when did Tails wear clothes?) were crumpled and ripped at some places, revealing uneven scars beneath. But the worst part was the overall state of his body. Vibrant golden fur was now pale and dull, chunks of it ripped, burnt, or shaved off, once a naive and childish face looked deeply worn and older, and his body now had barely any muscle or fat, exaggerated bone outlines and skeletal anatomy was the fox's vessel now.

Shadow didn't know if this was a child he was staring at or a decaying, walking corpse.

It took a couple of moments for Shadow to even realize that this was Tails, the cheerful fox kit that followed Sonic everywhere. Whatever this hollow, battered shell was wasn't cheerful in any way.

Staring back at him, this child, they looked more fragile, more lost, and completely broken.

Once he processed this, he cautiously approached the fox kit. While he never particularly cared for the kid, he knew he couldn't leave them like that, couldn't leave anyone so young like that. Besides, he knew of the fox's smarts as everyone else did, perhaps the fox could help fix everything the blue idiot broke. Approaching them, he called their name...

And immediately knew this wasn't Tails as their head suddenly snapped harshly in his direction (he thought their neck was going to break).

He was grabbed by metal, sudden sharp tips of the skinny metal tails nearly dug into his skin as he was slammed harshly against the wall. He gagged, surprised at the uncharacteristically aggressive act from someone he thought he knew. Looking down, he was met with the second clue when he saw a harsh and...unnatural scowl. It was more feral, more akin to that of an animal. The kit's teeth was bared, eyes wide-eyed and buggy, and his body twitched slightly. The words the child screamed harshly met Shadow's ears.

"it's NINE, NINE not tails NEVER tails you never listen never never never-“

Realization washed over Shadow like cold water. So this wasn't Tails. This was a variant of the fox. A rather erratic variant at that. He made a unintelligible noise, trying to speak but the metal was squeezing too tightly-

The third and final cementing clue about the kit's disturbing mental state was when fox began to ramble and mumble, asking Shadow how 'they' are still making things like him. Rambling about games, about tricks, and other nonsense Shadow couldn't understand. Taking the chance, he used the fox's self-imposed distraction, kicking them away. They grunted, landing on the ground like a puppet - landing hard on their face, limbs sprawling beneath him at an almost unnatural level - before weakly, but somehow quickly, righting themselves, launching himself at the black urchin once more.

Shadow felt a slight sting of pity at the pathetic sight,

Before long, the life form quickly got the upper hand, pinning the malnourished fox and explaining he's real, how he accidentally thought the kit was Tails. The kit paused somewhat, then asked how Shadow knew that name, just now registering it through the hazy fog of insanity. Broken blue eyes then noticed Shadows gloves, and they widened when they saw the odd things Shadow took from Sonic.

"Th...those are...", the fox began to mumble with horror and fear. As his brain slowly registered it, he began to hyperventilate, tears beginning to form, tears of horror, of fear, of cruel, unforgiving grief.

(no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no this cant)  As Shadow paused, taking note of the kids horrible reaction, he quickly moved off of them in an effort to give them space, taking a few steps back for good measure, hoping to calm the kid down so he could explain everything.

(be real this cant be real this cant be this cant it cant it cant please it cant be real why why

why why why why why why why why why why i failed im a failure failure failure w

orthless worthless worthless stupid fucking idiot you knew it was too good to be true

you knew it was too good stupid stupid this has to be a dream please be a dream wake up wake up wake up

wake up wake up wake up please please this cant be happening)

He still kept his guard up, just in case. Yet, the kid, Nine, only laid there on the ground, unmoving, eyes blank and glossed over, the little chest that rose with labored breaths not hardly moved at all. Shadow stared after what felt like hours, as the kid stared blankly at the burning ceiling,

no (this monster did he did he did he no no no it can't be those are they're)

thought

(he took them he saw sonic he hurt sonic I failed i'm a failure they were supposed to but

they failed i failed i've always been a failure how could i think this would change useless fucking worthless) behind them at all.

Shadow was suddenly thrown back harshly, like an unwanted toy, with sudden force from the sharp metal tails, and he was thrown harshly as haunting, horrid shriek echoed throughout the wide halls, mixing with broken wails as the monster seeped in lonely sorrow and rage. 

(he's dead he's dead he killed him he did it I failed no no no sonic was gone the grim was pointless I lost my chance I'm so stupid so worthless so stupid im going to kill him im going to kill him i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you you did this you killed him murderer you did it you did Sonic had so much life he was so alive)

The fight continued after that, the two dancing around flames, and Shadow dodged much harsher and animalistic blows as the nine-tailed fox screamed and asked over and over again what Shadow did to Sonic, where Sonic was. That he would kill Shadow, that Shadow took the only thing he had left, the only reason he endured ‘their sick games’. Shadow tried to explain, but it was clear there wasn’t any rational thought in the screaming, sobbing demon anymore.

Shadow didn't know how it happened, perhaps it was the harsh wounds he got from the kitsune that left him slightly weaker or maybe he was distracted by the pitiful state of the thing, but there was a sudden, harsh blow to his head, and everything went black.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

TW: nsfw, angst

The lights of the amusement park in the dying day make the old wooden dock feel like a carnival, a happy place where only good things can happen. He’s snagged your hand in his again, giving your fingers an affectionate squeeze. You can’t help but notice that he slows his long stride to match yours. You get the feeling that it’s not often Detective Tom Ludlow takes the time to meander anywhere.

It’s possible that you lean your head on his shoulder.

When you reach the festively lit booth of the shooting gallery Tom lifts his arm, surprising you by guiding you in a little twirl. “Alright, Miss Oakley, you’re up.”

“Not fair, now I’m dizzy!” you giggle.

“Got a feeling I need any advantage I can get,” he teases. He pays the operator and you get to go first, with the air hose operated pistol. With the shots alloted you knock down 8 out of 8 ducklings, and you make a sad face for the fallen. 

Tom takes the pistol with that signature smirk, and you can’t help but admire the way he squares up to the targets, all broad shoulders and spread feet. 

You probably need your head checked.

He knocks down seven ducklings easily and doesn’t even look like he feels bad about it. The competitive part of you pouts, but it is his actual job to use an actual gun, so you don’t feel too bad. You know for sure he’s not going to miss the last one. However…. 

It’s really not your fault, that your awesome push up bra choses that moment to poke you. You have to adjust it, at that very moment. As you fidget with your strap and tug on your neckline to expose your cleavage Tom’s attention is drawn decidedly elsewhere–he misses his duck, and by the look he shoots you, you just know you’re going to pay for it.

The booth operator hands you the big stuffed bunny, and you give it a tight hug goodbye before handing him over to his new owner. “What’re you gonna name him?” You ask. 

Tom pinches the fabric of your dress and tugs you forward so the pillowy creature is the only thing separating your bodies. “Oh, you just wait.”

You blink up at him, feigning innocence even as you crush your inner thighs together to relieve the awful ache between them. “That’s a weird name, but whatever you like.” You even add in a little shrug.

His smile is a curved knife—his smile goes straight to your clit, if you’re being honest. 

After that little scene, you shouldn’t be jumping at the bit to get locked inside a Ferris wheel compartment alone with him, but you are. 

And Tom, not one for wasting time, wrestles you into his lap immediately after the ride starts, dress sleeve falling down your arm, hem ridden up to show your thighs, ass pressed against his clothed erection. 

You feel so tiny and scared and helpless and safe in his sturdy lap. He brushes stray hair off your neck, makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, traces the curved line of throat from shoulder to dress sleeve, then tugs the fabric up into its rightful place. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be undressing me?” You ask him, emboldened by the fact that you don’t have to look at him while saying it. 

“Only sweet girls get to be undressed.” His fingers coast down your arm, leaving every hair raised in their wake, then ghost over your twitching belly, feeling the soft cotton wrinkles of your pretty sundress, taking far too much time inching up, up, up, finally feathering over your pebbled nipple, making your hips jerk and your breath catch on a throaty whine. 

His hand travels further until it’s wrapped snug and soft around the front of your throat, tipping your jaw up and back. 

“Am I hurting you, pretty girl?” His lips are almost, fucking almost pressed against the sensitive shell of your ear and you get the unhinged urge to scream in frustration.

His other hand slides into the space at the back of your right knee and unsticks your leg from the other one so you can’t press an ounce of this terrible need out of your center. “Answer me.”

“No.” You hardly recognize your own whiny voice. 

He rocks his hips up into your soft bottom, and you can’t hide the groan that the feeling of his hardness sinking an ident into your softness elicits.

“Serious question,” he asks.

“Hu-uhh?”

“Was anyone ever patient enough to not just immediately fuck you?”

“Honestly, not really,” you admit, thinking back to previous partners who were convinced foreplay meant giving you a single hickey. You resist the urge to tell him about Dr. Mercer, because you have a feeling Tom really will hurt him badly if he knows the extent of how he made you feel unwanted, and afraid. 

“Can’t say I blame them,” he tells you, finally pressing his stubble against the hypersensitive space behind your ear. 

You want to ask him the same question, but it’s hard to make words when he’s kissing your cartilage, inhaling your scent, flicking his tongue out to taste the tip of your ear while his right hand absently tickles the back of your knee. Just really fucking teasing the shit out of poor you. 

“Look outside,” he urges, and you open eyes that you didn’t realize had fluttered shut. 

Below you, the pier glows and glitters rainbow bright, stark against a dark, churning ocean and inky sky. You are suspended at the highest point, stuck right at the top, and your tummy flips a little bit at the thought until it realizes that it’s completely safe wrapped up in Tom’s embrace. 

He himself seems a bit distracted, and you use the opportunity to turn your head and kiss his cheek—the angle is awkwardly off, so it ends up being more of a peck to the side of his beautiful nose, but it gets the point across, and this impenetrable fortress of a man flusters below you, a hint of peach lighting the bridge of his nose and cheeks. 

He looks absolutely—heartachingly—adorable, and you regret doing it only because this dumbfounded puppy side of him makes you want him in more ways than just physical. Fuck, you want to keep this man. It’s terrifying. 

Of course, he’s got to show you up, releases your throat in favor of pushing his fingers into your hair and turning your body so that you’re across his lap rather than in it. One arm supports your back and head while the other lifts both your legs up onto the bench. It’s a perfect position to kiss in, and he’s leaning down, nose brushing your own, lips a half inch away from where you need them to be.

You close your eyes, mouth popping open, every inch of you tense and ready and wanting, but Tom Ludlow does not kiss you. He stays just out of reach, driving you crazy. 

You try to make contact after an eternity of him being right there right there right there, but he just holds you in place and tickles your lips with the warm air from his chuckle. 

After an aching eternity of madness, he leans in, and makes this so much worse for you, ever so softly placing a wet, tiny kiss to your upper lip before pulling away and making you pant and writhe. 

You want to tell him you hate him when he grins that knowing grin, but that would be another lie, because you’re starting to do the opposite of hate him, and it’s far too soon for that feeling to overtake you. 

“Tom.” You brace your hands on his chest. 

“Yeah?”

“I kinda made this vow to myself when I first moved here that I would be alone with myself for a while. That I would, I don’t know, kind of find myself?”

“So, you’ll bend your rules for a bitch Doctor, but not me?” Instead of angry, his demeanor is outwardly jealous, boyish, pouty. It makes you feel like the biggest jackass on planet earth, and that’s really saying something because you know from experience there are a large number of jackasses residing on this little blue orb. 

If there’s one thing about Tom Ludlow, it’s his ability to call you out on your bullshit and expose every part of your charade before it can even really get started. “You’re right, but Julian was a fluke. If anything, he solidified the need to find myself without anyone else in the way.” You decide to not mention the fact that Julian respectfully asked you out instead of harassing you, which greatly influenced your decision of who to go on a date with in the first place. 

You watch his jaw tense, vision narrow. He sucks the inside of his cheek. “See, the problem with that is, I’m the one in the way now, and it’s going to be hard to get me to move.”

“Why?” 

“Because I haven’t felt like this in a long fucking time, and it’s not just something you let go without a fight.” 

You have a feeling he excels at fights. 

The Ferris wheel churns to life, sending you down from heaven, breaking the tight intensity of the moment. 

You take the attack of opportunity, snatch Mr. Bunny from the seat, and shove his face into Tom’s while making a kissing sound. 

“You little weirdo.” He’s laughing, pushing the stuffed animal away half heartedly, rolling his eyes at the childish distraction that’s actually working splendidly. 

He grabs the fat toy from you and holds it high into the air. You start to scramble up on him to get to it, but he wraps a restraining arm around your waist. 

You can’t reach Mr. Bunny, but you can—finally—press your mouth over his own, giving the same teasing treatment, just a little chaste peck on the lips. 

You try to pull back, but he’s got other plans, braces the entire back of your head in his hand and pulls you into his open mouth. His caveman and your cavewoman clash with fervent tongue and teeth. The stuffie drops forgotten while you attempt to meld. His hands are desperate, urgent, like he can’t get enough of you at once. And you don’t think you’re doing any better, because although sporting less brawn, you are just as frantic, grabbing at his short, velvet hair, fisting his shirt in your hand to pull him further against you despite being so smashed together already that you can hardly breathe. 

You’re grateful for being on an ending carnival ride in public, because if you were in any sort of private setting, you’d be ripping this man’s clothes off to get him closer. 

The look this man gives you as you exit the carriage could start a wildfire. He tugs you against him and slings his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into the shelter of his strong body. It really shouldn't make you feel so invincible as it does, but you feel untouchable under his wing. You make your way down the pier, and you giggle like a little girl when he buys you a cotton candy. You share the sweet treat, the sugar melting on your tongue like your resolve to resist this man. 

Fuck. You’ve got it bad.

When you reach the end of the pier you cut down to walk by the water. Tom offers to carry your sandals for you. “Sure you can handle it?” you tease, looking at the bunny. “You’ve got quite an armful.” 

“I think I’ll be alright.”

“I’ll be expecting to see that stuffie on your dash the next time you pull me over,” you inform him with an insouciant grin.

“I still gotta pull you over to get some action?” he fires back, tugging you against him. It steals your breath away, and you toy with his collar, mainly to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Tom…?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Is that…something you’ve done before, to get girls?”

You think you know the answer, but your heart is in your throat anyway. 

“No. Just you.”

You feel a little braver, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” He seems genuinely puzzled.

“Why me?”

“There was just something about you, sweetheart. When you walked into the room and put me back together again that night–I felt my whole world change.” 

You can’t stop yourself from biting your lip. If he’s lying–feeding you lines, the way so many other men have–it will destroy you. You can just feel it in your bones.

“I get the feeling you don’t believe me?” 

“I want to,” you tell him, and mean it. “I really want to.”

An ambitious wave chooses that moment to crash around your ankles. You screech, the cold water a shock to your bare skin. Tom scoops you up and swings you to dry land, grinning like a feral tiger with your body wrapped up in his strong arms. He kisses you, really kisses you, nearly lifting you off the ground with his ardor. Your tongue slides against his, and you fancy he counts every single one of your teeth as he bends you over his arm. When at last you part he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

Oh lord. Here it comes. When a man says something like that to you…it always seems to end in disappointment, somehow. You can’t stop yourself from curling your fingers in his shirt, hiding against his broad chest. You’re not ready. There’s nothing you ever could have done to prepare yourself for this man–maybe deep down, you knew it all along. 

“What?” you ask, bracing yourself. 

He huffs with laughter, but there’s also an edge to it, his fingers digging into your sides. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind thinking about how sweet your pussy must taste.”

He can’t see it, but at first all you can do is blink. You should slap him, but instead you just feel weak in the knees. You must make a little noise while tucked up under his chin, because he smirks at you before catching your mouth again.

“I’m starting to think my little nurse likes it when I talk dirty to her.” 

“Officer Ludlow, you are a walking sexual harassment violation.” But fuck you, if you don’t say it with a smile.

“Just you wait, baby.” 

It almost sounds like a threat, and it sends a spear of molten desire straight to your core, your fingertips curling against his broad chest.

Somehow you manage to peel yourself off of him, tugging on his hand to walk down the beach a little longer. One more second and it was not going to matter how many people were milling around this warm California evening–you were going to tear off his shirt. 

Maybe he senses this tension singing down your spine, thrumming like a tuning fork, because he squeezes your fingers in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I got you that worked up?” he teases, and you know you should just fucking relax, because he’s already told you that he has good intentions, as insane as that might sound, but you just can’t help but grit your front teeth. To be fair–he’s the one who started all this, and as usual, you’re pretty sure you’re the one who’s risking getting hurt. 

"Can I be real with you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm just so fucking tired of being used. I don't know if it's this town, or what, but everyone is so in love with themselves, and everyone has their own agenda..." You sigh, afraid you sound like a crazy person, and a whiner on top of it.  "Nevermind."

But he pulls you closer, and he could have pushed you over with a feather after saying, "I get it, believe me. I know we got off to a rough start, but…I meant what I said. I like you. And, if you want, I’ll go find Doctor Bitch right now and make him regret the night his ugly ass Ivy League parents decided to make him.” 

You don't know why those simple words crush you inside, but you grip his big hand like he's the last thing you've got to hold on to. 

Still, you’ve heard this all before, so a massive part of that protective mind of yours is reluctant to believe anything anyone says let alone talk, dark, handsome men. 

“I see you fighting with yourself in there, y/n.” He brings you back from the thorny forest of your thoughts, and you look into his dark, far too perceptive eyes. 

Now that he has your attention—he’s never really lost it since you saw him that first night bleeding out in your waiting room—he tucks hair behind your ear and says, “I told you, I can be patient. Trust me.”

“That’s, uh, hard to believe.”

He laughs a little as if at some inside joke. “Want to get a drink? It might do us both some good.” 

The margarita you’d had with dinner was excellent, but maybe didn’t have quite enough tequila in it to get you through the night with this man. 

“Yeah. That sounds excellent.” It sounded essential, if you were being honest. 

***

The bar he brings you to isn’t exactly a dive, but it’s definitely his spot. Everyone seems to know him, and there’s a tickling little thrill in the back of your mind, as you think about how it’s almost like he’s showing you off. 

He orders a shot of vodka and a beer. You opt for your favorite vodka cranberry. 

“How did you score a date with a nice girl like this?” teases the bartender, and you can tell there’s no malice in it, just friendly ribbing between Guys™.

“Once in a while, even an asshole like me gets lucky,” Tom answers with a smirk, pulling your barstool closer. You find yourself tangled in his long legs, and you’re pretty sure you like it that way. 

Tom was right. The drink does do the trick, and you feel yourself relax, even as he keeps finding excuses to touch you, his fingertips on your arm or his big hand engulfing your knee. You lean close so you can hear each other over the requisite noise of the bar, and maybe it’s just the vodka, or the low lights, but his dark eyes shining for you from so close ties your heart up in knots. 

You chat for a little while, finish your drink, and before you can stop him he orders you a new one with an insouciant grin. “I gotta hit the head,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before sliding off his stool. 

“Okay.” 

You try not to. You really do. But you can’t stop yourself from watching him–coming or going, that man is a menace. 

It isn’t long before someone hops up on the stool next to you. “Sorry, that seat’s taken,” you say with your best apologetic smile. It’s a man about Tom’s age, with a tight crew cut and a sharp look that just screams LEO, even though he’s in plainclothes. With a glance you see his badge clipped to his belt. 

“Oh yeah?” he says with a smile like a razor blade, a hard glint in his blue eyes. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re here with Ludlow.”

“Yeah? So?”

“I’d be careful, I was you. Be a shame, to end up like his wife.”

Your heart spins into freefall at hearing this. 

His wife? Is Tom married?

You know your surprise and horror is written all over your face–this asshole enjoys it way too much. 

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter 17 I It's Been A Long Time Coming

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Read the end note for more.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: The most canon divergent I get (roykeeley endgame forever), a little more self-indulgent than usual, some more heated content but nothing smutty, I'm just sad y'all

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve 13 14 15 16

Change was in the air. A lot of things were changing. There was a lot of good change. Nate was back! He was just working with Will right now, but I could already tell he was different from how he left. He apologized to me for all the nasty things he had said and done. I was a little wary at first, but Jamie reminded me that I’d given him a second chance and Nate deserved one too.

Another good change was that Roy and Keeley had officially gotten back together. Much to the relief of everyone else in the club who couldn’t bear to see them apart. It was nice to have another couple around our age to go out with. We already had a double date set up for the week after the last game.

Then, of course, there was some not so good change. When Ted told Roy and I that he and Beard would be leaving at the end of the season, I almost passed out. My personal plans aside, I’d never done this without him, and I didn’t know if I wanted to.  But Ted assured both of us that the club was in good hands with the two of us.  Many tears were shed and that was before we told the team.

Roy and I went out alone that night. I told Jamie that we had some stuff to plan but really, the two of us just needed to be with each other.

            “What was Ted going on about?” Roy asked, taking a long sip of his beer. “About not letting his decision get in the way of any plans we might have?”

I shrugged, playing with my cocktail, trying to be inconspicuous. But, as usual, Roy could see right through me.

            “I haven’t figured out all the details,” I said, finally. “But… yeah… something’s planned, a bit.”

I expected him to be cross with me for leaving him to deal with the changes alone, but he wasn’t. He just lifted his glass towards me.

            “To big fucking changes,” he offered.

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. “To big fucking changes.”

            “And you know,” he stopped me before I could take a sip. “We’re always here for you. Not just me, the whole fucking team would die for you.” It was very sweet. Roy being vulnerable with me for a second. “Don’t go getting all… fucking… emotional on me, (Y/N).”

            “You know what this means, Roy.”

            “We are not fucking, hugging.”

            “Oh, yes we are.”

I when I got home that night, Jamie was there waiting for me. We always ended up at each other’s houses somehow or another though we promised we wouldn’t move in together until after the end of the season. But there he was waiting for me anyways, washing dishes in the kitchen.

            “Hey, babe, how was grandad?” he asked, finishing up the plate he was washing.

I smiled at it, at the domestic nature of the act, at the thought of walking home to Jamie every day for the rest of my life. I walked up and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back.

            “Was good,” I answered, rubbing my head on his skin.

            “Now who’s acting like a cat?” He rumbled, smirking as he looked back at you.

I hummed a giggle, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before letting go again. I leaned against the island and waited for him to finished up. He threw the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at me.

            “What?” Jamie questioned, smirking.

            “What?” I returned.

            “You got a funny look on your face,” he told me, reaching out to pinch my cheek. “Look all spacey.”

I batted his hand away, shaking my head. “No… it’s just,” I rubbed at my chin. “There’s a lot of change happening right now… isn’t there.” Jamie cocked his head at me, motioning for me to continue. “Well… Ted and Beard are leaving, Nate’s back, Roy and Keeley are back together – which is great – but… it’s just a lot.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah… it is. Was there anything else… that was changing… that you might want to tell me?”

Jamie had come to know me very well. Too well for my comfort sometimes. He could tell there was something going on in my head, something I wasn’t telling him. But that was something I still didn’t want to share quite yet, wasn’t ready to share.

            “No, I’m just same old me,” I grinned, stepping forward to slot myself between his legs. His mouth dropped into that lazy smile that drove me mad. I took a shaky breath and nodded at him.  “And we… we’re not changing? Yeah?”

            “I don’t plan on changing a thing,” He quipped, wrapping his arms low around my hips. “That is… unless we’re changing the amount of clothes you’re wearing.” He tugged at my pants slightly, drawing a laugh from me. Safe to say, no matter what else changed, we would be okay.

The final day of training came and went. The boys put on their show for Ted and Beard, who loved it, of course. There was so much movement happening all around the locker room. I sat in the crook of Jamie’s leg that he kept propped up on the bench as we chatted with Cockburn and Dixon when Keeley walked in with her usual cheerful greeting.

I took a moment to look around the room. At the team, and the coaches, and the people, walking in and out. It felt so different. So different from the locker room I’d seen three years ago. It felt much more alive and warmer, inviting people to come join the family. I felt a pang of nostalgia for it already, and there I was, sitting in the moment.

It felt like the end of something. It was the end of the season sure, but it was more than that. With Ted leaving and the future so unsure, it was really the end of an era at Richmond. The Lasso era was ending. And I missed it already.

Jamie and Roy went out that night for a drink. Jamie was practically bouncing, excited that Roy had invited him out and was going to allow him to drink a single beer. So, I took the opportunity to go to Keeley’s to discuss my plans with her.

I arrived at Keeley’s doorstep that night. If anyone would be able to help me figure out the logistics of this, it’d be her. I hadn’t told anyone else about this idea, just Ted and the very vague conversation I’d had with Jamie.

            “(Y/N)!” Keeley squeal when she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

            “Hi Keeley,” I greeted, smiling. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

It didn’t take long, only about an hour of chatting for us to figure out how to go about the plan. Keeley had been so excited, jumping on board immediately, grabbing her notebook to jot down some notes and start sketching some logo ideas.

            “Do you think Rebecca will go for it?” I asked, nervously.

            “Go for it? She’ll love it!” Keeley enthused. She sipped on her wine. “Is this why you’ve been so weird at training and such. Cause it’s not just Ted and Beard leaving?”

            “Acting weird?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Is that way Roy said?”

Keeley smirked. “Said you were plotting something.”

            “Yeah, his death for starters,” I laughed, grinning. Keeley let out a cackle that only she could make. Our laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked at the clock, it was late, later than a random passerby. “Did you order food?”

            “No, I thought you did,” Keeley shrugged, scooting her chair back.

At the door was Roy and Jamie, and from the looks of it, they’d been in some sort of scuffle.

            “My word, what’s happen to you two?” I cried as Keeley opened the door.

Jamie’s nose was bleeding, his head tilted back slightly as he pinched the bridge and Roy’s shirt had been nearly torn off. They had other bumps and bruises across their bodies, and I honestly couldn’t believe it.  We finally sat them down at Keeley’s table, Keeley and I sat next to each other facing Roy and Jamie.

            “All right, are you gonna tell us what happened?” Keeley asked, handing Roy an ice pack. I handed Jamie a fresh tissue, wiping his face with my thumb, even as he tried to duck away from me.

            “Better be a cool story, or else this is just sad,” I echoed, pulling back from Jamie finally.

Jamie looked over at Roy who shrugged, gesturing for Jamie to start.

            “We got in a fight,” Jamie started.

            “About the two of you,” Roy finished.

Keeley and I looked at each other a bit incredulous before replying in unison. “Why!?”

            “Well, we was just talking about the trip to Brazil coming up that the four of us are going on, and I was saying how great Keeley was at her job,” Roy explained, smiling at Keeley.

            “And I was saying how you’re fantastic at your job, too, (Y/N),” Jamie followed up quickly. “How you had improved the team so much this season, the lads really respect you.”

Roy shook his head and turned to look at Jamie. “And I was saying how, of course, I thought you were good at your job, but Keeley runs her own PR firm, she’s fucking next level.”

Jamie growled and turned to face Roy. “But (Y/N) is the first female coach in the whole premier league, and she’s the only Captain from the Imperial girls’ team to win three straight championships.”

Roy leaned forward to get in Jamie’s face. “But Keeley is who makes (Y/N) look good. Keeley makes all of us look good.:

Jamie matches him immediately. “But (Y/N) makes sure there is good stuff to make look good.”

            “Oh my GOD!” I shout out, slamming my hands on the table. Roy and Jamie flinch away from each other. “Did you really get in a fist fight to try and prove which one of us was better?” I pointed between Keeley and myself.

The boys shrugged, answering me without saying a word.

            “Are you joking?” Keeley reared. “Like are you seriously joking?”

She and I looked at each other. Without another word, we kicked the boys out and returned to our wine night.

I returned home later that night to find Jamie on the couch, munching on a chicken kebab, his nose stuffed with tissues. I shook my head as I came down to sit next to him.

            “You are ridiculous, you know that?” I chuckled, taking the kebab from him. He let out a grunt of protest but didn’t stop me from taking a bite.

            “Oi, I had to wrestle Roy for that one,” he settled me into his side, his arm wrapping around me.

            “Oh, I didn’t know it was WrestleMania tonight,” I gaped shaking my head. I brought a hand up and mussed his hair. “What were you thinking? Getting in a fight with Roy.”

            “I was defending your honor,” He defended, grabbing my hand to pull it away from his head. “Don’t see the harm in it, just guys being dudes.”

I almost choked on my kebab. “Guys being dudes? You really have lots it.”

He smiled and pulled me into him, turning the TV on. I leaned back against his shoulder, staring at the screen, chewing on the latter half of his kebab. Now was the time.

            “Jamie, I’m quitting coaching.”

            “What?” He flew up from his seat, knocking me to the side. “What’re you doing that for? Is it Nate? Did he say something? Or Roy? I’ll kill them both!”

“No! No, Jamie listen.” I grabbed his hands, coaxing him to sit back down. “It’s not anyone else… it’s me. It’s what I’ve been… planning.”

Jamie frowned, his eyes looking into mine for answers. “You’re not gonna coach me anymore?”

I felt my heart break just a little at his pitiful tone. I brought my hand up to his face, holding his neck in my grasp. 

            “No, Jamie… I’m not. I’m not going to coach anyone,” I started to explain. “See, what I realized, the part of coaching I’m good at is the playing bit. Understanding the players and how they think. It helped Ted a lot but… I’m not a coach. I’m a player.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You want to play? You’re gonna join a women’s team?”

            “Yeah?” I worried my bottom lip as he processed. Why was I afraid? Was he going to disapprove, god was this like with Matt all over again? “Is that okay?”

            “Okay?” His eyes lit up so bright. “That’s amazing.”

He lifted me up, spinning me around in his arms. I held on tightly, afraid to fall, even though Jamie would never let me fall. He placed me down in front of him, gripping my waist.

            “How fucking amazing is it that we’ll be the two best players in our leagues,” He mused, grinning widely. “Who you going to play for? I ‘spose Arsenal’s the closest for the women’s or Reading but you can do better than Reading.”

            “You’re assuming I’ll get to pick!” I laughed.

He made a pursed his lips and shrugged. “Obviously, they’ll all be after you, won’t they.”

            “Well, uh, the thing is, actually,” I looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract myself. “That’s what I was talking to Keely about. I’m gonna convince Rebecca to start a women’s team at Richmond.”

Again, Jamie processed. Then he lifted me up again, twirling me around, cackling like mad.

            “You’re brilliant, you are, you know that?” He kisses me then, passionately in a way I’d never felt before. My breath gets pushed out of me as my hands flail to hold on to him. He kisses me again, slowly, before pulling back. “I love you.”

I look at him, wide-eyed, panting. “I love you, too.”

He smiled at me smugly, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. He reached down and lifted me up over his shoulder, carrying me off towards the bedroom.

            “Jamie!” I cried happily, banging on his back. “Put me down!”

            “Oh, I’ll put you down,” he sneered, plopping me down onto the mattress. He crawled over my body, anticipation growing with in me as I propped myself up onto my elbows. He took his time reaching me, his lips ghosting over my skin. Up my chest, my neck, until they hovered over my lips, just out of reach of mine. “My girl…”

He kissed my cheek, nose nudging mine like he liked to do. I tried to press up and kiss him, but he pulled back, what a tease.

            “Jamie,” I frowned, whining. I pulled on his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me.

            “Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing me down so I was flat on the bed. “I just wanna look at ya.” His hand travelled down my body before coming back up to rest on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb. “You’re amazing.”

I felt so soft under his praise, under his touch as he admired me. But it wasn’t just my body he was admiring it, it was me. All of me. And when he finally kissed me, it felt like the sun was filling my body with its warmth.

The day of the final game came, West Ham, again.  This time under George Cartwick, the bastard. But I didn’t feel more normal anxiety about such an important game. Yeah, this game could solidify our ranking within the league, but I didn’t feel too worried. Win or lose, we’d shown the whole country exactly what we could do.

I carried the box from Zava in my grasp, using my legs to readjust my grip as I waved to Laughing Liam.

            “Hello, lads,” I greeted as I walked into the locker room. The room erupted in a choral of hellos and greetings.

            “What’ve you got there?” Colin asked, coming over to help me set the box down.

I dusted my hands off, starting to open it up. “It’s a care package from, Zava.”

The locker room groaned, and I smirked, sneaking a glance at Jamie who seemed quite pleased with the response.

            No,” Dani spoke up from behind me, quite firm. “Thank you, but no. I will not let him hurt me again.”

            “Ooh, it’s t-shirts!” Will smiled, reaching across me to get one.

            “Can I have two, please?” Dani decided.

I shook my head, moving away from the box to reach out for Jamie. He pulled me towards him, chuckling at the antics, wrapping his arms around me to pull my back against his chest, my hands crossing in front of my body as I held onto him.

            “Oh, oh!” Colin exclaimed. “There’s a card.” He reached in and grabbed a card out of it. “’My brothers.’” The boys laughed. “’Good luck against West Ham. Please enjoy the T-shirts and this avocado from my farm. Never forget, I am always inside you, Zava.’”

            “What, he sent us one avocado?” Jamie questioned, his lips right by my ear.

Bumbercatch lifted the avocado from box and held it up so we could all see it. It was giant. I felt Jamie freeze in surprise.

            “Holeh guacamoleh,” he shuttered out. “Show me that, bro.”

He let go of me to grab the avocado, staring at it in awe. I laughed, shaking my head.

The beginning of the game was a little rocky, probably due to the video that Beard had made, sending the whole team into a sobbing frenzy. The first half quarter was a stalemate, but Jamie was keeping them on their toes, controlling the field with his excellent strategic passes. Nevertheless, Westham managed to score, twice before the half.

The boys were buzzing during the half, talking and strategizing with one another. It was a stark difference from the team I started with. That team would be silent, brooding, angry about what was going wrong. But this team still had hope, they still had believe.

Ted emerged from his den to address the team.

            “Well, fellas, we got our work cut out for us in the second half. But you know, I’ll get to all that in a minute.” I went over to my spot next to Roy, crossing my arms as I looked over the group.

“No, uh, right now, all I wanna do is let you gentlemen know what an absolute honor it's been to be your coach. Getting to work with y'all these last three years has truly been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I've loved getting to know each and every single one of you. Learning all about the men you were and getting a front-row seat to see the men… and women you all have become “

He looked over at me and I nodded, swallowing a thick ball of sadness in my throat.

“A-And I wanna thank you for your patience with me. You know, when I showed up here, I didn't know one thing about soccer. But now... Well, now I know at least one thing about football.”

We let out a chuckle, though it was well watery I could tell. He continued.

“I'm just so gosh damn proud to be a part of this team. You know? And I love you guys. I'm gonna miss y'all." My heart swelled. I didn't want to say goodbye. I swiped at a tear that had escaped my eyes.

"Now, regarding this second half... Yeah, I don't know what's gonna happen. You know what I mean? No one does. Sports would be a lot less fun if we did. You know? And you all would probably make a lot less money, so... You know?  We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. That we tried. Yeah?”

            “Yes, coach.”

            “Hm. All right. Anybody else have something to say?”

            “Coach.” Sam spoke up.

            “Yeah, Sam, what you got?”

Sam stood up and grabbed something from his locker, pulling out a small piece of yellow paper. Then Jamie stood up, pulling out a book from his locker that had a similar yellow piece of paper sticking out of it. Soon the whole team was grabbing things from their lockers and pulling out their own yellow pieces.

I sighed and reached into my pocket and found my wallet. I had a polaroid of Jamie and I, sitting at Sam’s restaurant, and taped on the back was my own piece of yellow paper. I held it up and walked over to where the boys were placing their pieces.

Soon there was a clutter of pieces all mixed up. The boys stared at it a second, wondering what was wrong with it. Then they moved into action, putting it back together like a puzzle. I smiled at Roy who shook his head and chuckled.

Finally, the sign was back together. The torn up believe sign put back together by the team that made it a reality. I’d missed the sign. Missed it more than I knew.

            “And there it is,” Ted mused, smiling at it. “Number four. Yeah?”

The fourth rule of total football. Believe. Believing in this team and the people in it. Believing in change and love and friendship. Believing in the fact that victory was within our grasp. Believe was filling this room. Starting from when Ted first stepped foot in the locker, infecting the place with his positivity. Now the room, and the whole stadium was filled with it, so even when he was gone, we’d keep it going. Believe.

            “Alright, let’s bring it in.”

We walked in together, Jamie standing right behind me so he could keep one hand on my hip while the other went in for the huddle.

            “I know they folks like to say, ‘there’s no place like home,’” Ted looked around the circle, at our team. “That’s true. You know. But man, there ain’t a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either.” I let out a shaky laugh, the team following in suit. He addressed Isaac. “Richmond on three. One, two, three…”

            “RICHMOND.”

The second half feels more electric than before. More shots on the goal, with only one getting in from Jamie. The stadium erupted in cheers as Jamie scored, giving the crowd a shred of hope for Richmond’s chances.

Jamie gets in again losing his mark and heading for a second goal when he’s tackled. It’s a weak tackle and Jamie certainly played it up but it got us our penalty.

            “That’s it,” I muttered, nodding at Ted.

It took a second, Jamie passing the ball over to Dani who then passed it to… Isaac.

            “Oh, what the fuck,” I grunted, rolling my eyes. I loved Isaac, I really did, but I was certain he’d never even made a penalty before.

Isaac went for the shot, and it flew into the stands, causing a groan to go across the field. It wasn’t the end of the world but equalizing certainly would have been helpful. But then the referee went back to look at the net before turning around and signaling a goal.

I laughed and let out a cheer, patting Roy’s shoulder.

            “Who fucking knew,” I gaped.

            “Apparently, Dani,” Roy answered.

This wasn’t the end; we still had another goal to get but victory was just in reach. The game came to a halt as the grounds crew came out to fix the goal. Jamie jogged over to me, an excited look on his face.

            “How mint was that, eh, babe?” He asked, excitedly.

I shook my head handing him a water bottle.  “You could have made that easily.”

            “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, downing the water.

As he did, I noticed Rupert on the field. Yes, Rupert Manion, as in the owner of West Ham, walking on the field like a villain from a Bond movie.

            “What the hell is he doing here?” Jamie snorted, watching the man.

            “Don’t know…” I murmured back. “But I’m going to find out, cover for me?”

Jamie nodded at me, turning back to the coaches, as I tried to wander over inconspicuously I made it seem like I was going to fill up my water bottle, trying to get within ear shot of whatever conversation they were having.

            “Tartt is out there doing whatever he fucking wants.” Rupert growled.

Oh. I see.

            “Yeah, but I’ve got two players on him already,” Cartwick responded. He looked terrified, and Rupert pressed further.

            “Take him out.” I stiffened, looking that way, as subtly as possible. No way he was implying what I thought he was.

            “Are you joking?” Cartwick retorted.

I looked back towards Jamie. If anyone got near him, I would kill them. I’d kill them with my bare hands.

            “Get rid of him.”

I was gripping the water bottle in my hand so tight I thought it would break. Water started overflowing, getting my arm wet but I couldn’t move. I thought that if I did I would go over and punch Rupert right across his stupid face.

            “I’m not playing the game like that,” George finally being a good person for once in his useless life.

            “You do what I say, or you are done,” Rupert threatened.

George started to reply when there was a thump that sounded, and I looked over finally. Rupert had pushed George to the ground, sending him flying and, unfortunately, revealing both of his testicles.

I flinched away, finally walking back over to our side. Jamie collected me, pulling me away from Rupert, even though we were already far enough.

            “What a fucking wanker,” he grumbled.

The crowd seemed to agree as Rupert started to walk off the field, shouting it at him over and over. Part of me felt bad for him- oh wait no it didn’t. He’d threatened Jamie Tartt. The love of my life, and I thought he deserved a lot worse than a bad name.

            “Everything alright?” Jamie seemed to notice my tense mood.

I looked back over at him, shaking my head. “Yeah, fine, just go out and smash it, yeah? Watch your left kick, you’re holding back.”

            “Heard,” he nodded, agreeing. “Anything else?”

            “Oh, yeah,” I imitated thinking. “I love you, and when you win, we’re gonna have banger sex tonight.”

He grinned wickedly at me. “Now that sounds like a plan?”

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but we weren’t exactly public yet. Keeley said it would probably be a bad idea, might look bad for a coach to be dating their player. We weren’t a secret exactly either, but just private.

            “Go,” I pressed, pushing him away from me. He nodded, sending me a look that I could read. I love you, you’re amazing, thank you. I chewed my lip and nodded at him as well. I love you, too, go smash it.

The Hammers got control of the ball quickly and it seemed like they’d scored a pull-ahead goal but, as Ted pointed out, they had been offsides. That had been close, too close. We needed something. Jamie was trying to keep up his role as engineer, but he had been completely boxed in.

            “Okay. Come on. Talk to me, geese,” Ted brought is in.

We needed something they wouldn’t expect right now. Beard and Roy rattled off some plays, but I closed my eyes trying to picture the field, what I would be looking for. Jamie was who everyone was expecting to make a play, so we had to use him somehow, maybe as… as a fucking decoy.

 I opened my eyes and saw Ted looking at me. I could tell he’d just made the same connection I had.

            “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked me, cocking his head.

            “Definitely,” I stated, nodding firmly.

            “Alright, hold on,” he called over to Nate, getting him to come over to us before calling out to the boys. “Here hold this.” He mimed handing something to Nate, who took the invisible object. “IT’S AN OSCAR!” He shouted to the boys, giving Nate some instruction on how to hold it. “OR THE ESPY”

That seemed to resonate with the boys as they nodded finally, discussing amongst themselves.  They started off, Sam passing the ball to Dixon. Jamie sprinted into the box shouting wildly.

            “YEAH, YEAH! PASS ME THE BALL! ME, ME, ME! I WANT THE PALL! PASS ME THE BALL, PLEASE!”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He really was selling it and it seemed to be working. There must have been four guys marking him. But Sam was left open and Dixon took his chance, passing him the ball. Then it happened, Sam took the shot.

            “Barbecue sauce.”

The ball soared into the goal, and we’d done it. The game ended shortly after. We’d won. Everything moved in slow motion, the cheer of the crowd, the jumping and celebrations, the ground shaking with excitement.

But I was just looking of one person. Jamie. I needed Jamie. And we locked eyes. His grey eyes stormy with excitement. I felt myself moving towards him, rushing onto the field to get to get to him as quick as I could. I jumped and he caught my in his arms, spinning me around, my legs flying behind me.

I took his face and kissed him. Right there. In front of everyone. I didn’t care anymore, I wasn’t his coach, I wasn’t anyone’s coach. And right now, Jamie Tartt needed a kissing. He stood there on the pitch, practically eating each other’s faces off until I remembered where we were and pulled away. He followed me, letting out a whine.

            “Not now,” I muttered to him, giggling. “Now we celebrate with them. But later…” I walked my fingers down his chest.

He grabbed my hand, tsking his tongue. “Don’t do that, love. Or I might just have to take you away right now.”

I shivered, tempted to let him do so. But then I looked over and saw Colin kissing his boyfriend, I saw Isaac and Sam hugging, I saw Ted starting to gain a crowd, probably ramping up to do something cheesy.

            “Let’s go celebrate, babe,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

We ran over to the group to watch Ted do his victory dance. We celebrated. We were on top of the world. That’s how I like to remember that time. The whole team together. All of us. I could see into the future. I could see Ted leaving, and that would be sad.

But I could also see Keeley and I giving Rebecca the plans for the AFC Richmond Women’s team. I could see Jamie and I going to Brazil together and Keeley and Roy joining us after the shoot was done. I could see Jamie reconnecting with his father, showing him exactly the man he’d become without him. I could see Roy and Nate running the team together brilliantly. I could see us, months from now, having dinner at Higgin’s house. The whole team, kids running in the yard, chatting with Roy and Keeley, laughing with Colin and Michael.

I could see happiness. A happiness that I didn’t have three years ago that I had now. A happiness that had been…

A Long Time Coming.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @imfalling-inlove @littleesilvia @eugene-emt-roe

END NOTE: If you've made it this far, thank you. When Ted Lasso ended, I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I still had the characters and stories rattling around in my head. So I decided to write this, just to get it out of my head, as an OFC Fic on AO3 (That's being updated as well if you're interested in meeting my OC).

Coming to Tumblr was inspired by a number of writers. Specifically three people who I now am mutuals with and even would call my friends. @illiterateaffairs @its-time-to-write, @alwritey-aphrodite, and @sokkigarden. Each of them inspired my in their beautiful understanding of Jamie's character, their individual styles and personalities, all of them inspired me and encouraged me to continue my writing. They are truly such talents, and I respect them each individually very greatly.

Finally, I have to thank every single person who has liked, commented, reblogged, or even just scrolled through a chapter. every comment, I read, every reblog, I read. They all mean the world to me, and I know I say that a lot but I really mean it. I didn't expect this series to get any traction much less get me nearly 400 followers. You guys kept me going.

Thank you for reading. From me and Jamie <3

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, drinking, mention of vomitting, rpf, fem!reader, eventual smut

Author’s note: we get drunk in this one! and, little side note: Mark's not the worst. Stupid, sure. But we love him still.

Wordcount: 4.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Something was wrong.

The wedding shower looked great - people were chatting, drinking, laughing. Mark and Poppy were stood near the entrance to greet everyone who came in, to receive gifts, to welcome family and friends. Sometimes excited raised voices alerted everyone in the room when someone who said they wouldn't be able to make it walked in through the doors. There was hugging and there were smiles and Joe was happy, because Poppy seemed happy.

Joe found the best venue. The perfect place for a wedding shower. Not extremely formal, not too wedding-y. But nice.

Still. Something was off. It started with you showing up way later than Joe thought you would've.

Drunk.

Joe saw you enter from where he was stood by the bar. He'd been chatting to a colleague of Mark who had recognised him, and immediately had all sorts of questions. About being an actor. About the industry. About the people Joe worked with. All things Joe didn't mind talking about, but this was bad timing.

You'd just walked in, with half-lidded eyes and a dopey smile, and you were quick to sling both your arms around Poppy. You let your body fall into her fully, and Joe saw Poppy stumble back at the surprise of having to unexpectedly carry your full bodyweight. You slurred some things into her ear, things that made her look at her fiancé with a worried glint in her eyes.

Looking at the two of you hug, Joe realised he could still feel you in his arms if he thought about it long enough. The way you just... fit him so perfectly. Had relaxed into his hold so readily. You'd only sobbed maybe twice before your breathing had steadied. He fixed it. Sort of had to, Joe thought. He'd asked you a question that he hadn't expected such an emotional answer to, and he'd regretted asking it the second he saw you well up.

He'd done that. Was responsible for that. Felt awful for it, too.

How could Joe not have hugged you?

It had been such a short, quick thing. Effective, though. You'd stopped crying just as fast as you'd started. The moment had been so small, but definitely special.

To Joe, at least.

But Joe knew he was on thin ice. Joe remembered your shared moment in vivid colours, but he also remembered the fact that Poppy breaking it up by her loud knock on the window had made him feel like he'd been caught cheating.

Ever since then, he'd been riddled with conflicted feelings.

Needed to make sure he kept distance. That he wasn't going to fuck it all up.

So he made sure that this party was perfect. Perfect venue, perfect bar staff, perfect DJ and perfect guest list. Even the lighting! Brightly coloured lights, all pinks and peaches, no blue tones to be detected. Joe had thought of everything to please Poppy. To make sure she was pleased with him.

Joe saw how you squeezed Poppy until it hurt her, and then you didn't greet Mark at all. Instead, you beelined it straight to the bar where you ordered two gin and tonics.

Even though fucking gorgeous, Joe could see how you were staining this beautiful affair. A big dollop of ketchup on a pristine white shirt, and this party wasn't allowed any stains.

Why the fuck were you drunk already?

From a distance, Joe saw Mark clench his jaw as Poppy touched his arm. She seemed to tell him to calm down, or, something along those lines at least. To not pay you any mind, perhaps.

But you just necked a full glass and seemed ready to throw back the second one too.

This had disaster written all over it.

Joe had to step in.

Do something.

Mark's mother found you, and you greeted her warmly. She'd been talking to Poppy's mother, and since you were greeting and hugging already anyway, you also leant in to embrace her.

You and Poppy's mother had never hugged before, ever.

Joe saw from her face that it was a little unexpected. You really squeezed her properly before you let go and found the straw in your drink with your tongue.

Classy.

Where you'd just seconds earlier greeted the two mum's like they were your own, now, it was like they didn't even exist to you. You stood and looked across the room, eyes roaming, your mind somewhere else entirely.

"Excuse me," Joe said to Mark's colleague who was still talking to him, and he made his way over to you.

"Hey,"

"There he is," you slurred through narrow eyes, all exaggerated suspicion, and one of your hands wrapped around his forearm by ways of greeting. Nails dug in harshly, and your teeth did the same to your bottom lip as you frowned.

"What's going on, are you all right?"

None of this was normal. Not that the two of you ever were or had been, but, you were fucking plastered.

You had a hard time keeping your eyes straight, and there was something vengeful about you, Joe thought.

You shrugged, spat, "Ask Mark," before spotting Mark's brother over Joe's shoulder and quickly stepping around him to make your way over.

There was no hug for Mark's brother, but just a sloppy high five, followed by lots of giggles and spilt gin and tonic. You were barely able to keep your balance, and when Joe checked on Poppy and Mark, he saw they were watching you as well.

In fact, Joe took a scan of the whole room, and from almost all directions you had eyes on you.

You looked good, still. Banging body in a banging dress. You still smelled lovely, your perfume lingered, and you didn't have a hair out of place. Skin all dewey, all healthy looking... it did something to Joe.

You looked fucking amazing if you asked him.

But you swayed on your feet. Laughed loudly. Fell into the people you were talking to. Held onto them for balance. It was so clear that you were well past the point of being just a little tipsy.

Jesus Christ, was Joe going to have to ask you to leave?

Joe and Poppy made eye-contact, and she beckoned him with a nod of her head.

"She's pissed," Poppy said the second Joe stepped into earshot. Yea, no shit you were pissed.

"I'll go tell the bar staff to only give her mocktails," Joe said, already thinking of solutions, of how to keep the peace.

"No, she'll notice," Mark grumbled, and rubbed his face. He seemed annoyed.

"So go apologise," Poppy said, and Mark was quick to react, "I have! I have apologised! Like, seventeen times!"

Joe had no idea what was going on, but he used context clues. It sounded like Mark had fucked up one way or another.

"Make it eighteen," Poppy hissed and pointed in your direction.

Joe could see people around trying to piece together what was going on. A hushed conversation between the three of them, Poppy's extended arm pointed your way - this wasn't difficult to understand. They were figuring something out, and so, nobody interfered.

Mark sighed.

"She's too far gone, it's of no use now. Saying sorry won't do anything. It'll just kick things off again. I honestly didn't think she'd come tonight,"

"Mark, this is our wedding shower, of course she's here. Listen, I'm not going to let–"

"Don't put this on me!"

"I'm not, but, she's your best man!"

Mark and Poppy started bickering a little too loud for Joe's comfort.

"I'll," Joe spoke up loudly, shutting the two of them up instantly. "I'll take care of this,"

"No-" Mark started, one hand up to stop Joe, but Poppy shot him a glare and said, "Let him," and all Mark could do was sigh and let his hand ball into a fist that bumped Joe on the shoulder.

A look was shared between the two men. Joe thought it meant, good luck, but Mark wasn't really sure what he meant. He didn't know what he could've said that would've helped Joe before he turned and made his way back over to you.

Joe politely interrupted the conversation you were having. Mark's brother immediately helped out and diverted your attention to Joe.

"Come," Joe said into your ear, "Let's go sit somewhere,"

Compliant, you immediately followed, much to Joe's surprise. He wasn't going to let you notice that, though.

Joe lead you to seats near the short end of the bar, furthest away from the entrance. It was a little tucked away, but pretty much still out in the open. Mark and Poppy would have had to move just by a few steps to see around the bar, to see the two of you.

You fell into a seat. Nearly missed it. Joe had to reach and grab you by the arm to make sure you didn't topple over.

"Mark says he's sorry," Joe started, but said it all casually like it wasn't a huge deal, and it made you scoff at him.

"Mark can go suck a thousand dicks,"

Joe couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he signed for water to bar staff.

"I'm sure he could,"

"No, he fucking can't," you immediately argued, your face all scrunched up. "He wouldn't know what to even DO with a thousand dicks."

"Mmh, well, I don't..." Joe raised a shoulder. "A thousand is a lot of dicks, to be fair,"

Joe got handed two glasses of water, and held one out to you.

"Drink this,"

"Fuck off," you refused, but didn't put a lot of effort in when Joe forced the glass into your hands.

"Drink it." Joe said sternly.

So, you did. When you wanted to lower the glass after one small sip, Joe didn't let you. Using two fingers pressed to the bottom of the glass, he made sure you downed the full thing.

You gasped for air when you slammed the empty glass down.

"You're– dick," you grumbled.

"I– .... my dick?"

You thought it was stupid how Joe was humouring you. Like you were a toddler.

"Why are we talking about my penis?" Joe's brow was set in a deep frown, but the corners of his mouth gave away the smile underneath.

You sloppily shrugged, all annoyed.

"It's probably pretty, isn't it? You know, in dick terms,"

You got all angry again, but now it was all aimed at Joe instead of at Mark. Which was good, Joe thought.

"Golden boy Joseph," you started, speaking into the room louder than Joe cared for. "Posh little squeaky-clean Joey, with his beautiful pretty penis, ugh, you're the worst,"

Even your facial expressions were slow and messy.

"That's all right," Joe just said. It made you cover your face with both your hands, elbows up on the table, and you groaned loudly.

"You're not the worst, Mark's the worst,"

Oh. Back to Mark.

"And apparently I'm the worst for wanting a plus one,"

You slung your arms about.

"I don't even want to bring anyone!" you defended, "I just asked why I didn't get one because he'd been all vague about it, and he still hasn't fucking said why,"

You nearly hit the empty glass in front of you.

"Careful," Joe warned, sliding it away from you, just in case.

"But obviously I'm awful for even bringing it up,"

Joe saw you look around, in search of Mark, he assumed. You got up a little from your seat, and leant heavily on the small table.

Unable to find him, you opted to just shout, "I'm clearly the worst friend," loudly into the room.

With a warm palm to your shoulder, Joe pushed you to sit back down and as you fell into your chair, your head bobbled.

You looked like you could use some sleep.

Or, some food.

You sighed deeply, clearly annoyed at... everything. Mark, mostly.

Looking at you, there was an overwhelming feeling to protect within Joe. To shield, even if he was unaware of what, exactly.

He just... he needed to make sure you were safe, and he'd use the excuse of Mark keeping tabs on him again if he needed to. It was an easy cover-up. Even if the two of you were fighting, you knew Mark would still need to make sure you were all right. But the way Joe was prepared to throw his own flesh and blood in between you and whatever could do you harm felt new. 

He could’ve never seen it coming.

You were strong. Held the strength of thousands. Were stubborn and didn’t let people mess with you. You could be harsh, and sharp, and if Joe said something wrong, you would always make him feel that he did. Would just get up and leave without feeling bad about it. 

But now Joe understood it was all coping. It was how you’d been shaped. By the years. By others. And Joe wanted to undo it. To fix it. Keep you safe.

From where he was sat, he made eye-contact with Poppy's mother. She looked a little worried, but Joe just smiled. Gave her a little wave. Signaled it was all good, even though he really wasn't sure if it was. 

De-escalate. Take deep breaths. They always helped.

Joe kept looking around. Seeing if he could find Mark after not finding him in the spot he'd been in before. He either needed to get the two of you together, or needed to keep you as far apart as possible at this party. He wasn’t sure which one was better right now. But he needed to at least know of Mark’s whereabouts so that he could decide what was best later. 

A loud gulp of air next to him made Joe turn to look at you.

You were crying. Holding it in, doing deep breaths to not let any audible sobs out, but your mascara was leaving dark tear stains all the way down to your chin.

“Fuck," Joe muttered, and was quick. Looked for napkins, checked tables and the bar surface, but there were none. He then patted his pockets, and immediately screwed up his face - did Joe think he was carrying a handkerchief? Had he ever done that in his life? 

Without anything else around, he then just used his forearm and pressed the inside of it over your cheek, getting the left side of your face. 

You immediately grabbed hold of it, and turned Joe’s arm in your hands to show him what he’d done. 

Black and brown make-up stains on his white sleeve.

“I’ll have it dry cleaned,” he said, twisting his arm out of your grip, “Close your eyes,” and then, he got the other cheek. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Joe didn’t wash his own shirts. 

"I think I need to leave," you then hiccuped, eyes still closed, Joe now softly wiping the fabric of his shirt against your face. He used the hem to get real close under your eyes, letting fresh tears disappear into the cotton.

"Nah, just need to sober up," Joe said, all casual. Like you hadn't just made an awful entrance and were very clearly ruining your best friend's wedding shower.

"Here." Joe then said, and pushed the second glass of water towards you a little. You'd assumed before that that was Joe's glass, but noticed it was still full and realised he'd gotten both glasses for you to drink. 

"They want you here. You're the best man after all,"

"I'm not so sure anymore," you said after downing more water. "He said some dumb shit, about how I always think everyone's in love with me," you winced, "Knows right where to fucking stab me,"

"Joe!"

Poppy called for him, and when Joe looked, he saw she was smiling. Happily chatting away in a group of girls, some of them bridesmaids, and she beckoned him to come over.

"All right, finish that. I'll be right back, okay? Don't move." Joe said to you before he dashed off.

You watched him walk away before your eyes landed on the glass in front of you.

Water was stupid. Tasted of nothing but your own saliva.

Water could go and fuck itself, like Mark could go fuck himself.

Water could go suck a million dicks, for all you cared.

You wanted more gin.

Mark sucked. And gin didn't.

Poppy pulled Joe into conversation. The girls said Joe's suit had to match their bridesmaids dresses, since he was part of their group. Joe agreed, politely smiled, said he'd wear whatever shade of pink he had to. Poppy swore he looked good in anything, and Joe jokingly agreed that he did.

People were laughing. Having fun. Some started dancing, and Joe thought to himself that this wedding shower was fun. Poppy was smiling, and so he was happy too.

Joe didn't forget about you, but in the crowd, being amongst people, he got swallowed up into conversation for a little bit. Into jokes. Into chats with friends and family, and people were interested in him. Wanted to know all sorts of things, asked him questions, wanted to tell him things.

When Joe eventually made his way back over after a little bit, you were gone, and your table held five glasses - one still with some water in. Four empty. Three with straws in.

Shit.

You'd not listened at all; hadn't finished the water, and you'd clearly moved.

The venue wasn't huge, but it was fairly packed. Looking around, it was impossible to quickly spot you.

He spotted Mark, though.

"Hey,"

"She's vomming," Mark said,

"Toilets?"

"Toilets."

Joe nodded, but didn't walk off yet.

"Do I... should we put her in a cab?"

Mark sighed and found his phone to check the time. The party had been going for a bit already, and Joe could tell he was annoyed.

"Where's Pop?"

"Mingling,"

"Okay, good. That's good."

A silence fell where Mark seemed to think about what would be the best course of action.

"We didn't give plus ones to people we know aren't seeing anyone," Mark then suddenly said, answering a question Joe didn't ask.

"That's why we didn't–"

"Yea man, no worries," Joe quickly replied. He needed Mark to know it wasn't an issue for him at all. Joe didn't want to be the cause of more drama, just wanted to make sure the rest of the night ran as smoothly as it could. Needed to, for Poppy.

"My mum's with her now, but–"

"I'll go, I'll take her outside and get her into a cab." Joe interjected, feeling like he should be the one to handle this. He was the maid of honour who had organised the wedding shower, after all.

"You and Poppy can stay," Joe pointedly said. Then he took Mark by both the shoulders, shook him firmly and pressed, "Celebrate. It's your wedding shower."

Mark turned to see Poppy laughing loudly. Good. Mark cared about a lot of things, but right now, the most important thing was for Poppy to enjoy herself tonight.

Joe found you in the ladies. Mark's mother was stood by the sinks with you, doing her best to wash and wipe the vomit from your hair.

You were a full mess of a girl.

"I'm taking over," Joe said, smiling politely.

"Are you taking her home?"

Joe had told Mark he'd just throw you into a taxi, but his mother made him commit to bringing you all the way to your doorstep.

"Of course," Joe had no other choice.

"Darling," Mark's mother turned back to you and grabbed hold of your face with both hands. A wide grin spread across it as your eyes remained closed. "You're going to get home, eat something, and go to sleep,"

The mere thought of food made you shudder.

"Nothing crazy, just some bread or something, carbs," she quickly added.

When Mark's mother turned to look at Joe again, Joe took it as his sign to take over.

"Come on, we're leaving. Let's go,"

Joe held out an arm, which was meant to just guide you. Get you in front of him so he could maybe hover both hands close to your shoulders to make sure you didn't bump into anything on your way out. Instead, you took hold of it and curled into it, and suddenly Joe had his arm around your neck as you leant into his side and he had to focus all his energy into keeping a straight face.

Getting you outside was easy. Getting rid of the blush on his cheeks wasn't. The fresh air made you push yourself into Joe more, and it made Joe mentally have to count to ten.

Joe was shielding and, fuck, it felt amazing, but he knew he was overstepping. There was no way in hell Joe was going to let people - let you be able to accuse him of taking advantage of a situation. Nothing he was going to do could lead to accusations, Joe needed to make sure of it. Nothing.

Deep breaths. They always helped.

And Joe had to take more deep breaths when a taxi stopped in front the two of you, and you didn't really make any moves to get in by your own accord.

Joe had to use his arms, his hands, his fingers, to manoeuvre you into the backseat and get you into a seatbelt.

"Where to, mate?"

And that's when Joe realised he didn't know your address.

He knew whereabouts you lived - he had walked you home that one time, remember? But what the fuck was your address?

"Um," Joe squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

What the fuck was your address?!

He could contact Poppy, or Mark, but the second he thought of either of them receiving a text or a call from him, he knew how that would make their mood drop. Joe didn't want to be a bother. Couldn't let you be more of a bother than you already had been.

"Just..." Joe looked at you. You were already asleep.

Then, he gave is own address to the cab driver and slid across the seat to get into his own seatbelt.

All right.

This was fine.

Joe had bread. He could give you some bread, have you sleep on his sofa, make sure you were actually okay, and, Joe checked his phone for the time, there'd still be enough time to make it back to the party.

Yes.

This was going to be fine.

You were going to be fine.

But Joe looked over, and you had your head slumped forward and were hanging into every turn and it looked painful.

Protect. Keep you safe.

Joe sighed, undid his seatbelt, got into the seat next to you, buckled up again, and used careful hands to push you into him. Give you something to rest your head on.

And you fucking snuggled.

Deep breaths, Joe. It wasn't that far to go still.

Joe took deep breaths for the rest of the trip, and then Joe took deep breaths as he held you up by slinging one of your arms around his neck as he got you into his house.

More deep breaths when he let you fall back onto his sofa and he saw your dress had ridden up.

More deep breaths as he went to the kitchen to get you bread like Mark's mother had said, and water too. A paracetamol sounded like a good plan as well.

More deep breaths when Joe stepped back into his living room to find an empty sofa.

Footsteps on his stairs.

Fuck.

Joe called for you, followed where the noise came from, and saw you disappear onto the landing.

Fucking fuck. Shit.

With the bread, water, all of it in hand, Joe quickly toed his shoes off and rushed up the stairs after you. Picked up the handbag you'd dropped halfway. He heard the rustling of his duvet and knew he was too late.

Tonight Joe was going to be the one to sleep on the sofa.

Joe wasn't prepared for the sight of you in his bed, your feet still in heels that stuck out on the side. It made him feel too many things at once, your face pressed into his pillow, on his side of the bed. He didn't even care that he'd just witnessed someone washing vomit from your hair.

He placed the water, food and medicine down on his bedside table and knelt down to take your shoes off for you.

Joe was touching the skin of your ankles with his fingertips and he felt his face heat up. Your little hums did not help in the slightest, and even though Joe loved them, none of this felt right.

Joe was overstepping.

With your shoes removed, you slid both legs under the covers and moved to get more comfortable.

"All right," Joe whispered, leaning a little closer to catch sight of your face. "There's some dry bread here on the side, some water, a tablet if you need it, your bag's here, on the floor, and–"

"Mmmhm, 's just a nap," you interrupted and reached a hand up that found Joe's cheek to pat.

It burnt his skin, and he wanted to smile. To allow himself to enjoy your touch, but he couldn't.

Joe reached to draw the covers over your more, tuck you in a little before he'd head out again, and it was the worst thing he could've ever done. Because your hand found his arm and suddenly, you were holding onto Joe's shirt and pried your eyes open to look at your own make-up stains.

"Go, have a nap," Joe cooed, trying to create distance, and fully expected you to close your eyes. You were drunk, so you'd probably fall asleep fast.

Instead, Joe felt his heart skip several beats when you softly said, "Nap with me."

Inhale. Hold.

Hold.

Hold.

Joe couldn't fuck things up any more than he already had, but you were in his bed, on his side of it, and you just asked him to get in as well and, what the fuck?! Joe was just a man. One with insides that churned at the sight of you, even now, all drunk. All soft. And the pillows looked cool, and clean, and inviting. And you asked him to nap with you.  

Exhale.

Joe thought of Poppy.

Thought of Mark.

Thought of how you and Mark met. How you became friends.

Thought of how everything that had happened tonight had lead him to this exact moment.

There was no way Joe was going to go back to the party, still. He should. Probably should, you know, for Poppy. Really didn't want to, though.

He wanted to get into bed with you.

He shouldn't. Really shouldn't. But fuck, he really wanted to. And he could, maybe, if he kept his clothes on. Right? That would be okay, wouldn't it?

Joe took too long. Hovered in the space above you for too long. So you decided for him by also grabbing hold of Joe's arm with your other hand and turning over, essentially encasing yourself into his arm like you'd done earlier when Joe'd lead you outside.

And then you scooted over, further into the bed. Made space behind you, and didn't let go of Joe, pulling him in.

Yea, Joe wasn't going to go back to the party.

Gently, Joe laid down behind you, hoped and prayed you didn't notice- didn't feel the effect it all had had on him below his belt.

"I love a good nap," you whispered, all breathy and gentle, and like you'd done in the cab, you snuggled. Joe had to bite his bottom lip not to let any noise escape him.

Deep breaths.

You were in Joe's bed, in Joe's arms, and you were safe.

Joe got to keep you safe, and suddenly, it all felt right like nothing had been more right ever before.

Rest now, Joe told himself. She's not going anywhere.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[arminsumi]

spicy #10 with Armin? I'm thinking reader and 'min move in together and he becomes hyperaware of the readers presence, scent, clothes etc. and it's too much for him to handle...

freaking love your blog btw<333

teehee thank u darlin!! hope u enjoy mwa

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CRAVING YOU MDNI

░ 🐬 Armin

Armin just craves you so badly that the smallest things get him going 🤷‍♀️

⚠️Cws; juicy SMUT

Notes; AFAB!gn!reader

⚠️💦Smut cws; 'pretty baby' and 'darling', 🐶position + against wall + against the washing machine + against the countertop + in the shower/bath, 🐱eating + fingering, panty fucking, cumshot, jerking, unprotected sex + creampie

░ 🍒 While adding your clothes to the washing machine, he plucks your panties from the pile and stares at them. Then he calls you into the laundry room, "Y/n, could you come here for a sec, my darling. 'Need your help real quick..." you hear him almost moan behind the door.

░ 🍒 And you enter to find him fisting his needy cock with your panties wrapped around it. "C'mere, need to feel you, god damn." he blows his bangs out of his eyes, takes your hips in his hands and spins you around. He presses his tip into you, groaning into your ear at the plush sensation, and rubs back and forth against your clothed pussy until he shoots out a hot load. "I guess I'll be adding these to the washing machine..." he giggles guiltily afterwards.

░ 🍒 Even just seeing you change out of your day clothes into your pajamas drives him wild. He'll look at you needily from the bed and ask you to come over and model those clothes for him, but really he just pulls them right off and dives between your thighs.

░ 🍒 You'll just be casually gaming in the living room, relaxing, when he curls up next to you and lets out a needy groan. He inhales the scent of your shampoo and feels himself getting hard. He's rubbing against your leg in no time, looking up at you like a puppy. "Can you stroke me off, please please please?" he begs with big eyes. He visibly melts against the couch when he feels your hand wrapping around his cock. "Mmm, fuck 'm gonna cum all over your hand."

░ 🍒 Sometimes at night when he's curled up into your arms like a cute cat, he'll get achingly hard. He'll hug you real tight and press his dick against your tummy to get your attention. Sometimes he audibly whines until you help him out. He's too shy to use his words :(

░ 🍒 But you can bet he gets verbal as soon as he's sinking inside you. One second he's a cute boy curled up in bed, and the next second he's fucking you nastily until he's got you s(creaming) for him.

░ 🍒 You definitely can't get away with giving him a frisky kiss/teasing touch and then just walking away. No way, he'll whisk you right off to the bedroom before you can blink.

░ 🍒 If you're stood in the kitchen, no matter what you're doing, Armin will hug you from behind. Of course, nine times out of ten, he's rubbing his hardon into your ass. "Bend over for me, pretty baby, 'need to feel you so bad right now."

░ 🍒 Doesn't matter what clothes you're wearing, he always gets hard at the sight of you. He even gets hard to the sound of your voice. So many times you've had him laying on your lap, stroking his hair, when suddenly he asks you to spread your legs so he can eat you out.

░ 🍒 Trust that when you live with Armin, you can kiss showering/bathing alone goodbye. The second you announce that you're getting in a shower/bath, he's running out of whatever room he was in and stripping his clothes off. He loves supporting your body while you have a shaking orgasm from him fingering you 🚿or making the water spill over from fucking you too intensely🛁

░ 🍒 Honestly, if it's a weekend, he doesn't bother wearing anything underneath his sweatpants because he knows they're gonna be coming on and off too many times to bother with that.

░ 🍒 Armin's so impatient to fuck you sometimes. He pushes your panties to the side or only peels them halfway down your thighs. He forgets his condoms, ends up creaming inside you, probably pressing your body up against the wall. " 'm sorry, needed to have you, 'been so fucking horny today..." he groans, driving his soaked cock in and out of your heat like he's addicted.

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 36: Mindless Frivolity

this one is 5,000 words of fluff lol I hope you enjoy it

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 36: Mindless Frivolity

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 36/? WC: 93,091 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language Chapter Excerpt (ft. big time spoilers):

Alex and Farah are getting married. 

It'll be a small ceremony, with Captain Price officiating. You're a bridesmaid. The bridesmaid, actually. You're the only maid here, so it makes sense. But still, Farah was sweet to ask. 

She had pulled you into Alex's room -- her room now, too -- shortly after Doc released you to roam freely, rambling about needing a dress and flowers and the whole nine because she and Alex had decided to get married as soon as possible. In the next couple of weeks. You'd squealed and given her your most serious bear hug -- you love weddings. You always cry, of course. But you've always loved them. 

She'd held your hands and asked you in a timid voice, "I know we don't know each other very well yet, but...would you like to be my bridesmaid?"

"Um, obviously!"

And that had been that. 

Amidst wedding planning, you've been seeing Doc each morning. And each morning, after a familiar series of pokes and prods, he tells you the same thing. 

"Vitals all look good. Healing looks good. Just waiting on the Rift."

The boys -- your boys, Simon, Soap, Gaz, Cap -- and Los Vaqueros and Gary (Roach's given name, which you insist on using instead of his callsign because roaches are foul, disgusting creatures and Gary is a very nice man) have been trying to organize a hunting party. You've been asked to stay behind, to your continued and pervasive frustration. 

You put up a fight -- hissing and spitting as is customary for you when you're mad -- but you only manage to exhaust yourself. 

Their argument is that they don't want to risk you, the potential cure for all this, getting bitten again. Your argument is that if anyone should be bitten, it's you, the Girl Who Didn't Turn.

But, whatever. 

You're grossly outnumbered. Even Farah wants you to stay behind. And it's that -- your one and only girlfriend asking you to stay -- that finally gets you to drop it. 

You haven't seen much of Soap or Simon amid all the planning. While you've been selecting color schemes and sourcing decorations, they've been mapping the migration patterns of nearby hordes and organizing mission supplies. Simon's told you that it's been significantly harder without access to Laswell's offsite resources, whomever they are -- or the woman herself. More time consuming. It's hard to say when efforts to rescue her will begin again, if at all. With no new leads on her whereabouts, obtaining a Rift sample remains priority number one.

As such, you've been spending most of your free time as Farah and Alex's third wheel, which you honestly enjoy. You'd forgotten what it's like. To have another woman friend -- you hadn't realized how much your life was missing one. How much you needed a sister. And Farah is an utter delight. Dry and sardonic -- witty as hell and exceptionally intelligent. You really, really like her. 

You like Alex too. He's come a long way. Doc says he'll probably deal with headaches for awhile -- maybe the rest of his life. And he'll need to keep an eye out for any sort of cognitive decline. But otherwise, he's fine. Up and walking around, speaking in full sentences, cracking jokes. He's even joined you and Farah on a few morning runs, though they usually turn into walks after a mile or two. You don't mind, though. 

It's been nice to see him come out of his shell. He's irreverent. Funny, even. Exceedingly charming. The way he looks at Farah...and she, him...you're just...you're glad he woke up. You're really fucking glad he woke up. 

Preparing for the wedding has been the most fun you've had in...ages. Both Alex and Farah want to be surprised for most of it, so you take all the little details upon yourself, meticulously planning everything down to the flavor of each layer of cake you're forcing Gaz to make. 

It takes a week and a half of work -- and a slight delay to the hunt -- but you manage to pull it all together. 

You wake up early that morning -- ahead of the sun -- to gather materials for the bouquets. You shrug on an old cardigan -- a little moth-eaten, but still warm -- and pad down the chartreuse hallway, a couple of ancient woven baskets in-hand. You found them in the attic a few days ago, alongside a whole host of wedding appropriate items, including attire for Farah and several of the guests, decorations for the tables and centerpieces -- even an old wrought-iron garden archway you'll use as the altar. 

You're lost in thought as you walk -- occupied by your mental checklist -- to the degree that you don't see him in time to stop. You slam into a warm body at full speed, your chin connecting with his chest.

"Oof, whoa there, Sunshine," he greets you, gripping you by the arms to keep you from falling over.

You're quick to recover, smoothing your hair away from your face. "Good morning, Captain."

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