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treatmelikeasmut · 2 days ago

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The Artist and the Engineer//Part 4 Base Coat

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Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: A week has gone by, the artist has gotten all of the sketches she needs and they’ve decided on a pose. Now it's just a matter of figuring out what colors to use. However, their session is cut short when the artist gets unwelcomed guests.

Word Count: 2.6k

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~*~*~

The first week of portrait sessions passed swiftly. There and gone in nearly the blink of an eye. It surprised Viktor just how easily they’d gone. The two of you even had something of a routine. If it was nice out, you’d sit out in the courtyard and volley questions while you sketched. The two days it’d been raining were spent in doors with Viktor reading while you worked to prepare your canvas. Though he questioned to himself how much there was truly to prep, surely there couldn’t be much. You each asked of the other’s day, though it always seemed to Viktor he was giving more away than you were.

No matter what he tried, there remained a space between you both. Not that he was looking to make friends. But there was something you kept carefully walled away. He never seemed to know when his questions would be deflected and turned on him instead. Still, he found you to be good company.

While Viktor still hated the idea of his portrait being done, and still couldn’t understand the point to it, he found he was enjoying his time away from the lab. He even started looking forward to that two o’clock bell. The walls of the lab were drab and bleak. The sunlight that streamed in the single tall, thin window was always mute and dusty. The chair he worked in was uncomfortable and he swore he was able to hear Jayce’s breathing from across the room. He itched to escape from that oppressive cave.

Viktor was glad to discover his work was still keeping its momentum. Even with his continued absences. Jayce had done well to pick up the slack. He could only hope that it was going to be sustainable. He hated to admit that Heimerdinger was right - the breaks were doing his brain some good. New ideas flowed more easily. He often returned to his desk inspired and reinvigorated.

However, due to Jayce’s comments, Viktor found himself noticing you more. Memorizing the way your practiced hand curled around the pencil. How you chewed your lip when you concentrated. The highlights that the sun brought to life while you sat beneath its light. He’d been embarrassed when he caught himself staring - more than once. You never said anything if you noticed.

Viktor’s mind kept drifting back to your hands on his. The way the warm skin of your palms sent heat coursing through his hands and down his arms. And gods forbid he remembered the way you delicately held his chin between your fingers. Their ghosts still lingered there, if he thought hard enough. Your thumb pressed between his brows could still be felt, and each time his mind emptied as completely as the first. There was a desparate ache in his chest that cried to be held by someone, anyone. A cry that was subsequently ignored.

“It’s okay to find her attractive,” Jayce had told him. “It doesn’t mean you have to fall in love or anything.”

Viktor had no intentions of falling in love; not with you or anyone else. He quickly came to enjoy your company, especially now that the small talk was mostly over. He found that if he appeared comfortable and open, then so were you - to a point, at least. He just couldn’t think about his stomach and how it had begun to betray him. Clenching and swirling on his walk to the studio. Such an odd feeling, that he could find no root to. Nor the way his muscles seized under your studious gaze.

That afternoon, Viktor found himself making the trip across campus early. It started as a yawn, then a stretch, then an announcement to Jayce that he was going for a walk. He found himself outside the studio doors before he’d even realized this was his destination. You were already there when he popped his head in. The first thing he noticed was your hand. You’d abandoned the larger splint, instead taping your ring and pinky fingers together. That meant they were healing, at least, which gave him a strange feeling of relief.

You hadn’t mentioned the incident that lead to that further. Viktor, not wanting to push the delicate boundaries of this new acquaintanceship, didn’t push the issue. It hadn’t been hard to tell you were lying. But he found it strange that you did. Had someone broken them on purpose? A friend? An abusive spouse? The thought of anyone doing that to another made his stomach turn.

You didn’t look up as Viktor entered the room, completely engrossed in whatever you were doing. Today, the small table was set up by the chaise and topped with a variety of small tubes. There was a twinge of disappointment in his chest - the session wouldn’t be outside today. He wouldn’t get to enjoy the sunlight.

You jumped when Viktor cleared his throat, entire body pivoting on the stool. Recognition flickered over your face, then you laughed. And it did something in Viktor’s chest that he wasn’t sure he liked. A little flip, a small quickening of his heart.

“Hello there,” Viktor greeted, trying to be as casual as possible. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I know I’m a bit early.”

You shook your head, turning back to your work. “No, no, it’s fine. Come in. I might mind if you weren’t good company.”

There was the flip again. He strode to the chaise, trying to push down the heat building around the collar of his shirt. The book he had with him today was one he’d read many times over. With its cracked spine and loose pages, it was more like an old friend. Viktor didn’t know why he’d grabbed this particular one. It could be nearly recited from memory now. Still, he thumbed it open and began to skim over its contents.

You stayed focused on your task. Today, Viktor couldn’t take the quiet. He actually wanted to talk to you. But he had no idea what say.

“It seems as though you have your canvas fully prepared,” he observed. You hummed, half-occupied. Viktor felt a frown tug at his lips. Quickly fixing it, he tried again, “Are you going to begin the painting portion today?”

Now you glanced at him, though he pretended not to notice. Looking back at the wooden pallet in your hand, you scrubbed a brush against. “Only the base coat.”

Viktor’s brows pinched together. “How do you mean?”

“In oil painting, the golden rule is thin to thick. Start with a thin layer of paint for the base, and then build your values off of them. Thickening the layers as you go. - I just need to make sure that I have the colors I want to use. I need to make a supply run soon.”

A few of the tubes on the table beside the chaise, Viktor now saw, were mostly flat. The bottom curled all the way up to press out what little was left. Two of them were cut in half then looked to be pinched shut again.

“Should the need arise, I can accompany you.” The words were out of Viktor’s mouth before he could stop them.

It was evident the offer caught you by surprise. But you recovered swiftly, smiling at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think you’d want to. You’d probably find it boring.”

He shrugged. “Or very educational.”

“Well,” you chuckled, standing. “I guess we’ll just have to see when the time comes.”

You came to sit on the lounge with him. Unlike the first time, you sat close enough he could feel the heat radiating from your body. Your thighs nearly touched and your knees did if you moved too much. That little point of pressure sent sparks shooting up his thighs. From what he could see of the pallet, there were splotches of peachy tones and dull blues.

“Your skin should be much easier to mix than Heimerdinger’s fur was,” you said, holding your pallet next to his face. “Your hair too.”

It was interesting, watching you mix your paints. Observing as you added dollops to the pallet, then mixed them with a small, triangular instrument. Then you held it up and stared so intently at Viktor that he was sure he might dissolve. This must be how the hexcrystals feel, he thought.

Frustration grew evident on your face as you mixed. Pulling from the different piles of color, adding more paint occasionally. Only for dissatisfaction to creep in as you held the little tool beside his face again. Finally, you sighed, smirking to yourself as you shook your head.

“Those pretty eyes of yours,” you chuckled softly, “I knew they’d give me trouble.”

Viktor’s grip tightened on his book, and he found he couldn’t look at you. “I apologize.”

“Don’t be, they’re very nic-”

You paused midsentence, the teasing smile dropping. Your eyes cut to the door, the sharp look in them so different from anything Viktor had seen of you until now. He opened his mouth to speak, but you held a paint covered finger to your lips. Then you were across the room, an ear to the door. Viktor heard you mutter something under your breath.

Panic crumpled your features as you turned back to him. Tension palpable in the air. Your footsteps were silent as you crossed back to him. He didn’t know a person could be so quiet.

“Vik,” you rushed in a loud whisper. Admittedly, the casual nickname gave him a small tingle in his belly. “I need you to do me a favor, grab your things. - Hurry.”

He did as instructed, stuffing the book back in his bag - he hadn’t been reading it anyway. Wrapping your fingers around one of his wrists, he let himself be pulled to the side room by the mirror. You carefully eased shut the door until it nearly latched.

“What -” Viktor started.

You held a finger to his lips, the same one that had touched yours. The scent of the paint was sharp that close to his nose. Your gaze shifting frantically to the door.

“I need you to stay in here,” you stated softly, “wait ten minutes then leave out the side door. Go to the courtyard and take the entrance directly across.”

“Why? What is -”

Just then, the door to the studio slammed. You flinched, dropping your hand and angling towards the door. An arm crossed in front of Viktor like you were set to defend him. He could see your entire body trembling.

“We 'eard there was a lil burd in ‘ere,” came a gruff voice, booming in the cavernous space. “Guess we’ll just 'ave ta rip this place apart until we find ‘er.”

“I’m here, Kuegler,” you called, voice steady and cold. “I’ll be there a second.”

Viktor’s eyes shot to you. “Who -”

“I can’t explain. I don’t want you getting involved, so just stay put. Please? And Vik?” You looked up at him with glassy, pleading eyes. A knot formed in his throat. “I’m begging you, please don’t tell Heimerdinger. - Can we keep this just between us? Our little secret? I’ll owe you a favor.”

He hesitated. Keep this a secret from Heimerdinger? What was going on? Was he really about to just turn a blind eye to whatever this was? You spoke with such a hard kindness. Once again, he hit that wall between you. Still, he caved when your bottom lip poked into a pout.

A ghost of a smile crossed your lips, then you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. Heat blossoming at the point where your soft lips touched. Then you were gone. Reaching for the door handle, you looked over your shoulder. Pinning him under your gaze.

“I won’t forget this,” you told him softly, “And, whatever you hear, please don’t think any less of me.”

You were out the door, shutting it quietly before Viktor could say anything else. It was only a moment before he was pressing his ear to the door. He could hear your footsteps and the heavy sound of boots.

“You can’t be here,” you announced, a hard edge in your voice. It sent a chill through him.

“Oh yeah?” said the voice, Kuegler, he assumed. “Who said?”

“I’m sure you were seen coming in. I bet Silco will be thrilled to find you causing trouble around a prestigious Piltover establishment.”

“Boss is the one who sent us,” said another voice, deeper than the first but just as rough. “Gave us this for you.”

You laughed harshly, the sound a shard of ice. “I didn’t know you two could read.”

“Not fer us, song burd.”

There was the sound of paper tearing. Then a moment of quiet. “The fuck is this? This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“There’s interest, int there, love?” came Kuegler’s voice. It made Viktor’s stomach turn. “Shame really, I tried ta go easy on ya. Got beat pretty bad fer it too.”

“Let’s go talk about this somewhere more…private,” you urged.

“What’s wrong wiv right ‘ere?”

“Anyone can come in at anytime - including Heimerdinger.” Your voice dripped with venom. “Unless that’s a fight you want.”

There were two low grunts, then the second man said, “After you, then.”

Viktor heard the heavy boots leave, and then the door to the studio shut. Quieter this time. Through the wall, he could hear the tick of the clock. His heart pounded in time with it. He counted down ten agonizing minutes while his mind stewed.

Just what the fuck was going on? Why didn't you want to tell Heimerdinger that two thugs walked straight into the academy? Where did you know them from? Why? You were just an artist, weren’t you?

Just someone who makes pretty pictures.

The questions swirled around in circles with dizzying velocity. Viktor’s stomach sloshed with them. Suddenly the side room felt too hot, too stuffy, too cramped. Still, he did as you asked and waited before making his way to the courtyard.

The white stone glared in his eyes now. The sun a hot beam through his dark shirt. He went through the entrance you told him, then stumbled his way back to the lab. Viktor had to stop and collect himself before he faced Jayce. Should he tell him about what just happened? But then Jayce would want to go to Heimerdinger, wouldn’t he?

When Viktor finally entered the lab a few minutes later, he was calmer. The decision not to tell Jayce came with the tang of guilt. But it wasn’t like Jayce knew you. Hell, Viktor barely knew you - yet he was determined to keep this a secret. At least until he could figure out what was going on.

Jayce did a double take when Viktor came in. “You’re back early, something happen?”

Viktor shook his head. “No - she had a prior engagement to see to today.”

“Ah. - Well, since you’re back, I have a question…”

It was hard to concentrate on work with all the questions buzzing around in his mind. He didn’t like that hardness in your voice. That panic in your eyes. He’d only known you a week, and you had been nothing but pleasant. Even when he wasn’t. Every time he thought of telling Heimerdinger, your voice whispered, Our little secret in the back of his mind.

It was delicious.

It was tantalizing.

It was dangerous.

He just hoped you knew what you were doing and that he was doing the right thing.

~*~

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ficsilike-reblogged · 21 hours ago

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Shelter - 7

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And Laswell has news.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military and safehouse inaccuracies, mentions and descriptions of suicide, canon typical violence/gore, guns, attempted accents, and more Soft!Simon

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the latest chapter. I treasure each and every comment and they really keep me motivated! Just three more chapters after this!

Previous Chapter

You spent a strange amount of time just poking at things in your room. There had been a secret door between rooms; surely there were other things for you to find. You’d given up on trying to nap after you stared uselessly at the ceiling for an hour, listening to the muted sounds of the city starting to wake and start the day. You were tired. Exhausted. Had been for weeks.

But you couldn’t sleep.

Couldn’t sleep because Simon had kindly offered to show you around a library. What was wrong with you? And how many times have you asked yourself that in the last handful of weeks? And you were so mad at yourself for wanting it. Wanting to see that library with Simon. You knew all of this was temporary. Even if they managed to kill or apprehend Makarov in a timely manner, where did that leave you?

He lived in the UK (when he wasn’t off somewhere around the world doing…whatever it is he does) and you had your life here in Chicago. Sort of. It wasn’t as if you had a job waiting for you. And your lease was nearing its end. And… You really needed to stop this train of thought. It would only hurt you. So, you turned over and shoved your face into the pillow and groaned before getting up and exploring your room a little more.

To your strange comfort, it seemed like your only surprise had been the door connecting your room to Simon’s. There were no secret compartments in your closet or bathroom. The one thing you did find was in the small drawer in the bedside table: a small red button tucked just inside. You knew better than to press it—red buttons usually meant trouble and you weren’t about to test your hypothesis when you finally had a small bit of peace.

Saving you from your boredom for a moment was a new text, chirping on your phone. It was a picture of Kirby and Pauline in the back of a car, bundled up and ready to go, the tiny yellow teddy bear tucked in beside the carrier. “Off on our first adventure!” The picture was probably taken by the post-partum doula or nanny Kirby had hired. Kirby had sent you heaps of potential resumes and then felt content with the two she’d narrowed it down to—and you’d felt a little more secure knowing she had help. She had steadfastly refused any other help you offered, telling you she was determined to do everything on her own. Were you nervous about that? Of course. But she had read every parenting book her doctor recommended, attended every single mothers’ birthing class, researched endlessly about each and every bit of furniture she could buy before purchasing, and went to extra therapy sessions biweekly ever since the situation with Julian blew up.

She’d have help and the money Julian coughed up would probably make everything a little easier. They’d be okay. You could be waiting in the wings if anything came up, and Kirby knew that. Kirby needed to be Kirby. And you needed to be okay with that.

Ugh. You did not need to be having all these emotions before breakfast. You typed out a quick, “love you guys!” message and deleted the perfunctory “stay safe!” you had first added and instead just added a single heart emoji. There. Nailed it.

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled. It had been a while since you’d eaten—a burger and one half of a chocolate bar you split with Kirby before dawn at the hospital hadn’t exactly been a complete breakfast. And thinking of the chocolate had you remembering Simon had been the one to buy it—not that you could ever forget any of this. Or him. And you knew it was stupid. Stupid to hope, to want…but you still found yourself going over to the hidden door and knocking. Maybe he’d get breakfast with you.

But the wall didn’t open and you tried to ignore how something ached in your chest because of it. Well, you could still get breakfast anyway. But first, you decided to give pilates another try, queueing up a workout on youtube and regretting it only a few minutes in. By the time you finished, your arms were shaking and your legs hated you but the shower felt nice. You slathered a bit more arnica cream across your throat when you finished. It would still take time for your neck to look normal, but the red in your eyes had steadily decreased.

You turned your attention to the extensive room service menu that had been tucked beside the sleek bedside table lamp and tapped your finger against the thick cardstock, mulling over your choices. You flipped the menu over, trying to make sure you knew all your options and instead found a small history of the hotel. Apparently it had always been “family owned” since its opening right before World War I. Interesting. Had it always been a safehouse? Either way, the matcha sounded good. Eggs Benedict, too. You ordered, feeling a little ridiculous—you’d never ordered room service before—but the person on the other end of the line was nice enough. It might have been the manager, but you weren’t entirely sure.

Your throat ached as you set the phone back in its cradle. All of the excitement yesterday definitely did a number on it all. Maybe tonight you’d actually sleep well… You weren’t going to hold your breath about that, though.

A knock sounded at your door a few minutes later (after Kirby had texted you back, another picture of Pauline, snuggled in her bassinet), it was probably your breakfast, but you still checked the peephole and felt a small bit of tension leave your shoulders when you recognized the manager on the other side.

She held out the covered tray with a smile. “Excellent choices, if I do say so.”

You returned her smile and took the tray, mouth watering a little at the smell of it. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to deliver it.”

She shrugged. “We don’t let just anyone up here. And the kitchen was busy anyway, two birds, one stone and all that.”

Briefly, you remembered how breezily she checked you all in, smiling at John the entire time. She really must have seen some stuff to not care that a known terrorist was looking for people who were hiding in her hotel. “Still, that was kind of you.”

She waved that away, too. “I’m sure Laswell said you could ask for anything,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.

“She might have said that to the guys.” Not to you. You were sure the no-nonsense woman you’d met back in the UK didn’t particularly want to think about you at all. You wouldn’t hold it against her; you hadn’t made the best of impressions.

She nudged her arm into yours. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re one of them right now. Maybe it’s just for now, maybe it’s just for a little longer, but for now, you are under my care and the hotel’s protection.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “Sounds like a bit of a steep promise.”

The manager shrugged. “It is. But my family’s been doing this for generations. I know how to keep you safe.” Her watch beeped before you could even attempt to process what she’d told you and she smiled again. “I’ve got to run. Please, enjoy your breakfast.” And then she was gone, disappearing down the hall and into the elevator.

What an enigma of a woman. Again, you thought of Price’s interactions with her. Just what had happened between them? Hmm. Oh well. Probably just another question you’d never get the answer to. You settled onto the overstuffed armchair in front of the giant television and tried not to think about the man on the other side of the wall.

Simon had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at the hidden door that led to her room. Wondering if she actually fell asleep. Wondering if her short time with her sister and niece was enough to make her happy. Or settled. She’d once asked if he had anyone to get back to after all this was over. He didn’t. And after she had told him about what she had gone through, he thought about his own family. His mum. Tommy. Beth and Joseph. And for a moment, short and aborted, he thought about telling her what had happened to them. She might understand. There could be understanding there, instead of the pity anyone else who knew his story usually met him with. But, again, Simon pushed it away.

Pushed it down, ignoring how the thought echoed and ached.

But it didn’t really matter because Price called them all to his room, telling them that Laswell had called with news. That could have been good. But Simon knew better than to think this all would be over soon. And then a strange, selfish thought struck him, too, as he followed Kyle to Price’s room. This gave him more time with her. She’d been quiet after he offered to show her the library before he watched a small smile push at her perfect mouth. And he thought about it until Price had called them.

But any sort of hope was quietly stuffed away when Price fixed them all with that look that Simon knew well. And maybe he should have been expecting this. Something didn’t feel right. It was too quiet. Simon knew Makarov played the long game. But Laswell had been briefing them about how several more of his caches had been destroyed and more of his men had been killed but Makarov hadn’t been spotted. There was no chatter from him or about him despite Laswell, Farah, and Alex all hunting for him.

Laswell was waiting for them, videoing in on the laptop Price had set up on the small table in his room. Simon stood at the back, letting the others take the chairs closer to the laptop. Price turned toward Laswell, his mouth set in a thin line. “We’re here, Laswell. What do you have for us?”

Laswell sighed. “I found who leaked your location.”

“And?” Johnny said, leaning forward in his seat. He was chomping at the bit to get some sort of revenge. Their families had been targets. No doubt Johnny had wanted to make him feel exactly what his mother had felt. And Simon knew that he hated that she had been hurt. The feeling was mutual.

“He’s dead.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” The question had an obvious answer but it needed to be asked, if Simon was being honest.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.” Laswell shook her head. “The man I tracked down when I figured out who leaked where your team was located shot himself.”

Price looked at Simon who looked right back. “Confirmed, then.”

“I was the one who found him, John.” Her breath crackled over the line. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

No. She wouldn’t. But this still all stank of something he didn’t like.

“I’m still tracking down who he sent his intel to, but I hope to have news for you soon.”

It was someone Laswell had worked with, not necessarily trusted, but relied on in some capacity. That was a betrayal. A deep one. Shit.

The video disconnected soon after and they all seemed to just look at each other. Silently processing what they’d just learned, calculating their next move. What options did they have? Moves to be made. Risks assessed. Before any of them could voice their thoughts, the computer beeped again. Simon watched Price type in a code and then sigh.

“I need a bloody drink.” The captain rose, in search of the morning drink he wanted, and Simon slid into the chair he vacated.

Simon didn’t blame him for wanting a drink. That was an appropriate response. Laswell had sent over a batch of pictures from the leak’s apartment. Probably taken when she’d gone to confront him. He clicked through the pictures, trying to tell himself that this was one loose end tied up in a neat bow. But there was a voice at the back of his head that kept whispering that something wasn’t right. There was more to this than one man’s apparent greed and Makarov playing him for a fool. Simon stopped, pausing on one of the photos of the man, his head back against the edge of his computer chair with blood and bone and brain spattered behind him on the white wall.

Everything on the desk was neatly arranged. Stacked. Organized. Now marred by the mess of his death. And yes, Simon knew death was messy. Could be messy. But people sometimes took care to make sure it wasn’t. And the more he looked at the surrounding room, Simon surmised that this man was a person who would take care to make sure his death wasn’t messy.

It didn’t fit.

The bruising, exit wound, and spatter might match all the hallmarks of a man seeing no other way out after committing treason. But it didn’t fit.

Kyle stepped to his side and bent down, just enough to look at the photos and Simon could see him working through it, too. He knew he would. “Staged. Someone else pulled the trigger. Held the gun beneath his chin while he hoped he could talk his way out of it.”

Simon nodded. Kyle had put the pieces faster than he had, but Simon knew he would.

Johnny was quick to take his place on Simon’s other side, reaching over him to click through a few pictures. “Is Makarov in the States?”

Simon glanced back at the picture before shaking his head. “We would have heard. Laswell wouldn’t’ve let ‘im slip by like that.”

Kyle’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then there’s another problem.”

Simon almost hated that he was right. All of this just meant it was even more complicated than they had previously thought. And it already was a fucking nightmare. “There’s another person on the inside.”

Kyle grimaced. “Covering their tracks.”

Price walked in, half-empty glass of whisky in his hand and eyed them all. “So you see it, too?”

“Seems like it. Wasn’t acting alone.”

“I have no doubt Laswell saw it, too.” The glass clinked as Price set it down on the window ledge. “But she’s playing it quietly. No confirmation on anything else until she has answers.”

Simon knew that was the wisest way to do this but it still grated at him.

“How high does this go?” Kyle asked. Simon could feel the rage radiating off of him. But he always kept a tighter leash on it than Simon did. It was something Simon respected about him, one of the many, actually. And it was why he trusted him so implicitly in and out of the field.

Johnny frowned and then turned abruptly toward Kyle. “The lass’ flat was untouched, wasn’t it? When ye went to get her stuff?”

Kyle nodded. “Everything seemed fine. Wasn’t exactly looking for cameras though.”

Simon nodded, too. And everything had been in its place. He wondered how long it had taken her to make it feel comfortable. Not home, exactly. But a place she knew she could rest her head, like his flat in Manchester.

“But that bastard knew her name, no? Nearly killed her at the hospital in London. Why would he leave her flat alone?”

Simon chewed on that thought. He did know her name. And while there might be other people with her name but Makarov—or at least one of his men—knew she was American. If they’d taken her purse, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine they knew where she lived. But why had her flat been untouched? “Laziness, possibly.”

“And he knew we were hiding her. She wasn’t going home.”

But that small fact was still a glaring part of the picture that someone knew they had been moving her.

“Do we move again?” Johnny asked.

“Moving us now would just confirm that we are here. And if it doesn’t, we are out in the open until we get to the next safehouse.”

“What other options do we have, Captain?” Kyle asked. But Simon didn’t miss the way his eyes went to him first. “She is still an asset and a target. We are still targets and Makarov is in the wind.”

Price leaned forward, mouth pulled into a flat line. “Way I see it, we can move and take our chances or we stay put and get ready.”

They didn’t like running. And the plan had always been to lure Makarov into a trap. Why couldn’t they do that here? And the silent looks between the men seemed to show their quiet agreement.

And then something whispered at the back of Simon’s mind. And then he remembered the curve of her lip. Her smile and the way she simply wanted to see her sister and her baby. “We need to tell her. Get ‘er ready for it.”

Price grimaced but didn’t refute Simon’s logic.

“She deserves to know. She’s in this with us.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look pleased about it. “If you think she can handle it.”

“She will.” Simon had watched her outmaneuver Johnny and fight like hell to live against a trained operative. She could handle a bit of book camp. He knew it.

“And the manager might want to know what’s happening. You seem to know her best, Captain. Want to break the news?” Kyle asked, face straight.

Price sighed.

You were on the last dregs of your matcha when you heard a sharp knock…on the wall. You turned and watched the hidden door open. Simon filled the space, broad shoulders brushing the sides—and no, that didn’t make your mouth water. He wasn’t even wearing any sort of gear, just a hoodie and loose joggers, swapping out the jeans he’d worn to the hospital with you and he looked better than ever. (Shut up!)

“C’mere, yeah?”

You frowned, not expecting the invitation, but stood anyway and let him shuffle you into his room.

It wasn’t that much different than yours. Same color scheme. Same layout. There was just one large, glaring difference. The closet door was open and the entirety was filled with weapons. Mostly guns, but you spied a few knives, too. There were also a few vests, that you surmised were kevlar or something along those lines. It really was a mini arsenal. This hotel kept surprising you.

Gaz and Soap were waiting inside as well and you resisted the urge to think the worst and smiled, feeling it twitch on your face. “Everything okay?” The stretched silence that followed only made your nerves start to fray, like overused yarn.

“Everything’s sorted,” Gaz said, arms folded neatly across his chest. And you wanted to believe him. You did. You could trust him and the others to protect you like they’d done before. But something wasn’t right.

You glanced at Simon, and he was already looking at you over the edge of another surgical mask. Your heart did an embarrassing little leap behind your ribs. And then you looked at Soap. There was a bit of calculation behind those unnervingly blue eyes. “C’mon, Soap. Out with it.”

He smiled, a bit of pink touching his cheeks. But the smile didn’t last long. “We’d like ta teach ye a few things.”

“Things?”

He nodded, overgrown mohawk flopping a bit. “Just in case.”

And those three words had your stomach sinking. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“It’s just a precaution.”

And that was how you found yourself in the hidden firing range behind another false wall down the hall (apparently you had been right about there being more to your floor than a few rooms on this floor). It was entirely soundproof with a small sparring ring tucked behind it and another wall filled with guns and other weapons. No wonder the manager seemed so sure she could protect you. Kyle was patient as he adjusted your grip on the small handgun he said would be a good fit for you and patient still when your arms shook as you focused on the target. You didn’t like guns. But when he pressed, gently and kindly with hints of his megawatt smile, you promised to keep the gun in the drawer beside your bed. They were doing this to protect you. They liked you at least enough to try and give you a fighting chance. This was a kindness.

Soap was next but didn’t last very long. “Would ye like to learn how to make a bomb? Just a wee one.”

“No, thank you.” Jesus Christ.

To your surprise, Price walked into the large room next and then handed you…a crowbar. He taught you a few moves with it, telling you to aim for the neck if need be. “You might lose a gun, miss a moving target. But you can always hit them with that.” Comforting.

Then, to prove his point he turned and waved over Simon, who had been silently watching along the back wall (not that you were always innately aware of where he was in the room).

“Attack her.” The captain waved a hand at you before clapping Simon on the shoulder.

“Let’s not do that,” you said, words falling out of your mouth before you could think of something else to say.

Simon, however, stepped closer and held his hands up a bit, as if he were making sure you knew he was unarmed. That wasn’t exactly comforting. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d never ‘urt ya.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you felt every syllable wash over you. He wouldn’t hurt you but he was trusting you to swing at him with a goddamn crowbar. He trusted you. They trusted you.

Straightening your shoulders, you tightened your grip on the crowbar.

And then he moved. No one that big should be able to move that quickly—it didn’t seem fair—and you were flat on your back. You swallowed the lump in your still sore throat as you looked up at him.

“Try again,” Price called out.

So you did. Again and again. You managed to clock Simon in the arm exactly once and earned a round of applause from the other men, all of them decidedly ignoring that you were supposed to be aiming for the neck. Your arms and legs were screaming at you (again) by the time Price called him off.

“Ye did good, bonnie,” Soap said with another smile. “Proud of ye.”

Oh god, you were going to cry. Tears stung and your battered throat ached with the effort to hold them back as you handed the crowbar back to Price with an uneven smile. “Thanks for keeping me alive.”

“Fair play,” Gaz said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Kept Soap alive. Kept us from eating through the house. You’ve been good to us.”

You cleared your throat, trying to swallow down the emotions. They didn’t need to see all that. “Just trying to-”

“Earn your keep?” Price asked, blue eyes near twinkling. “None of tha’. You’ve done more than enough.”

It wasn’t many words but you didn’t think Price was a man who used flowery prose or words to anyone. But that didn’t stop it from meaning the world to you. How many times has someone said you’d done enough? You could probably count them on one hand. So, you simply nodded and murmured, “yeah, sure. Anytime.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price eventually trickled out, leaving you and Simon alone in the large room. “C’mere.”

You walked to his side, a strange jittery exhaustion pulling at the edges of your mind.

“I want to show ya how to get out of a few ‘olds. Yeah?”

Like the guy who’d try to strangle you back at the safehouse. This training made sense—and no matter how well you (didn’t) shoot or swung a crowbar, you felt like this bit was more practical. And you felt safe with Simon. Simon with his dark, warm eyes and rough hands.

He led you through a few grapples and moves to break a stranglehold—he never aggravated your throat, his grip gentle if not bordering on nonexistent. He even muttered something about getting you more cream when you finished.

As strange as it was—he was pretending to strangle you—you never felt unsafe with him. Not when he came up behind you. Not when he charged forward. Not when he bent you across a bench and coached you through how to maneuver around it while your neck was tucked into the corner of his bent elbow. Never.

“You did good. But I want ya to do better, olright?” He asked as you broke another hold.

You nodded and then the broad expanse of his palm was dragging across your throat and he was pushing you back back back until your spine collided with the padded wall behind you. You tried to ignore how your chest brushed his with every breath you took. The attempt flew right out the window when he wedged a firm thigh between yours.

“Remember whot I told ya.”

Right. Focus. You turned in his loose hold and shot your arm up, remembering the move he’d taught you earlier. But he must’ve moved or you did something incredibly wrong (more likely of the two options) because when you turned to drive your arm down, meaning to break his hold, your finger caught on something and it snapped against your palm.

You watched, a little confused, as Simon’s mask dangled uselessly off one of his ears. A scar, old and jagged, stretched from one corner of his mouth up to his ear. Another bisected it on his cheek. More scars twisted across his mouth and down his chin and-

You smacked a hand over your eyes. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you more masks. I-”

A now-familiar hand, gently pried your hand away from your eyes but you still kept them closed. He wore a mask for a reason. You weren’t about to betray him like that, even if it was an accident. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t!

“You can look. ‘S fine.”

“Not fine.” Eyes still closed.

“I’m saying ‘s fine.” But it was the gentle swipe of his thumb against your cheek that had your eyes slowly opening again. He meant it.

You watched, almost transfixed, as Simon reached up and unhooked the other side of the small mask. The simple act had your heart leaping and racing beneath the cage of your ribs. Your fingers shook with every bit of skin now exposed to you. He had scars. Some big, some small. And you had been correct in thinking his nose had been broken before but you liked how it sat, a little crookedly, on his face. His brown eyes didn’t move away from you as he shoved the small mask into his pocket.

Your hand raised and then froze, uselessly hanging in the air between you. It had been a selfish want to touch him. You hadn’t asked and he hadn’t given permission. Shouldn’t it be enough that he trusted you with this?

Before you could apologize or try to covertly play off why your hand was halfway to his face, Simon reached out and his thick, scarred fingers circled your wrist in a gentle grip and he dragged your hand up up up. The tremor in your hand ceased as soon as your fingers brushed against the warm skin of his cheek. Your thumb traced against the scar that cut from the corner of his mouth and up toward his ear. A cruel slash. And he was so handsome.

Your heart ached when you felt him press a little more into the warmth of your palm. His long blond eyelashes fanned against his cheek as his eyes closed. He was so beautiful.

“Simon.” His name was a prayer. A promise.

He moved closer, the heat of his body bleeding across yours.

And then his mouth brushed yours. It wasn’t a true kiss. Not yet. Just his lips, scarred and cold, against yours. But you kissed him, pressing your lips against his with an embarrassing insistence that you couldn’t stop. But the embarrassment did not get a chance to fester, not with how his large hands framed your face and you could feel him smile.

“Olright?” He murmured as he pulled back the slightest bit, letting his large hands smooth lightly down the sides of your neck to rest over your shoulders, warm and heavy.

Your heart fluttered. He cared. “Yeah. This is good. Y-you’re good.”

His thumb and finger hooked your chin and he tilted your face toward his again.

A/N: Thanks, again, for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and really keep me motivated.

#Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #Simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #female reader

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persevereforahappyending · 2 days ago

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A Beacon in the Dark |18|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, Attempted Killing, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You added more weight and laid down on the bench. You wrapped your hands around the bar, slowly let out a breath and lifted it off the rack. You focused on pushing the bar up and bringing it back down. After a few reps you could finally feel beads of sweat running down the side of your face.

Music poured in through your earbuds as you continued lifting. Grace was forcing you to take it easy after being shot, even though you weren’t completely fine now. Joey also seemed to agree with her and even used the doctor card to force you to take a break from missions for a short while. They could keep you from going out into the field, but they couldn’t stop you from working out.

“This is not taking it easy,” a voice cut through your music. You tilted your head, scrunching your brow as you looked to the left and saw Joey standing there.

You held the weight up in the air, not bothering to rack it or bring it down. You couldn’t remember anything about meeting Joey today, you didn’t have a training session, there wasn’t a mission that you knew of. You also hadn’t gone to pick her up and she didn’t drive, as far as you knew Grace hadn’t left her office.

“How did you get here?” You asked.

Joey scoffed and crossed her arms. “Nice to see you too.”

“What are you doing here?” You ignored the clear sarcasm in her voice.

Joey raised an eyebrow and nodded at the weight in your hands. You looked up, realizing that you were still holding it, then quickly put it back. You sat up on the bench, swinging your legs around as you looked at Joey expectantly.

Joey rolled her eyes. “Grace sent a car,” she finally answered. “Said it was important.”

“I could have picked you up,” you frowned. You always picked Joey up and dropped her off, except for the rare occasion you couldn’t. You could have today though, you didn’t have a life, you would have dropped everything to pick up Joey, car rides together were one of your favorites.

“There was no time,” Grace said, entering the room. She didn’t bother looking up from the ballet in her hands the entire time.

“Let’s go!” Grace snapped, flicking her eyes up at the two you didn’t make any sort of move.

You jumped up from the bench and Grace quickly turned in her heel and began the march to her office. Joey raised an eyebrow at you, but you only shrugged, Grace had been in her office since you woke up, which was early. You actually weren’t sure if she even went to bed the night before, she sometimes got too into her research and the next thing she’d know you were knocking on her door, and she wouldn’t know what day it was.

“What’s so urgent?” You asked, the three of you entering Grace’s office.

You stopped in your tracks, forcing Grace to brush right past you, refusing to break her stride, and make Joey nearly bump into you. The bulletin board was filled with images of an old mansion, somewhere pictures from this century, others were black and white, clearly printed out and pulled from old newspapers, and others were just sketches, but all clearly of the same building. You slowly walked up to the board, your finger lifting one of the papers, then glanced at another, it was like you could see the entire history of the home, of when it was first built and in perfect condition to where to was now, still standing but the paint was peeling, bricks were crumbling, and vines had started to grow up the side.

“What’s all this?” Joey asked. She had made her way to your side, her eyes scanning over all the documents and photos.

“A vampire coven,” Grace answered.

You could practically see Joey’s entire stance change, her back suddenly becoming straighter, her eyes fixed on the board in front of her but probably not really seeing any of it. You knew Joey’s history with vampires, even without her mentioning anything from that time. You also knew that most of her trouble came from one vampire, until there turned out to be another, then another. The only reason she made it out was because one of the guys she was with took out the other and then her and the girl, who originally kidnapped them all, teamed up to take him out.

One singular vampire was hard enough, just like a single werewolf wasn’t a walk in the park. Going up against a vampire coven was similar to going up against a pack, the worked and hunted together. If anything, vampires were more dangerous given their human appearance the entire time. As much as you hated to admit it, they were also faster, even when you were transformed. The only thing you truly had over them was your strength, even in your human form.

“How many?” You asked, trying to keep it business as usual. You made sure to keep Joey in your peripheral, she might have had experience against vampires but that didn’t necessarily make it easier for her to deal with.

“Unknown,” Grace answered. She furiously typed away on your laptop. When she was done the printer on her desk began spitting out pages upon pages. This was going to be a big one it seemed.

A coven in general was bad, not knowing their numbers was even worse. There was no set amount for how big a coven could be. A coven could literally only be made up of two people, or it could be in the hundreds. That big of a coven was rare, there was still a hierarchy, a head vampire to give orders and oversee everything, just like an alpha of a pack. Unlike werewolves which seemed to desire to form a pack and submit to an alpha, vampires formed covens for power. The bigger the coven the stronger they were and the more influence they had, they took over and ran cities, mostly a couple centuries ago, but there were still a few cities run by vampires.

“What’s their game?” Joey asked, speaking up for the first time since Grace told them what they were going after. Despite her clear unease with this situation her voice was steady like it always was, as if this was truly just another mission.

“The typical tricks,” Grace said. “Lure their prey in, bring them back for a night of fun-”

“They could at least try switching it up,” you mumbled. Vampires seemed to stick with what was familiar to them, many of them never changing their tactics over the centuries. They were always so boring too, pick up a random victim at a club or bar, take them home, then drain them dry.

“How’d you find them?” Joey asked, seeming to want to focus on what was important.

“Too many reports of disappearances,” Grace sighed. “A friend leaves with one of them never to return home, last trace of their phone is somewhere in this area,” she pointed to a red circle on one of the maps she had pinned up. “Investigation shows someone getting dropped off here,” she pointed to the mansion.”

“The police don’t investigate?” Joey furrowed her brow.

“They do but-”

“They don’t find anything,” you finished for her. “As you know, vampires are quite good at what they do. It’s in a secluded area, not exactly shocking someone goes missing.”

“They’re drunk and disoriented, accidents happen.”

“No one’s ever investigated the mansion?” Joey asked.

“Sure, they have,” Grace sighed. “Plenty of times but vampires know how to make themselves hidden.”

“People tend to not linger when in creepy abandoned places,” you said.

“What do they do with the bodies?” Joey furrowed her brow, her eyes scanning the board as if it held all the answers.

“When we were attacked Sammy fell into a pool of bodies, it was were Abigail seemed to toss her victims once she was done with them,” Joey mumbled, seeming to be talking to herself more than anyone else.

“Place is big,” you noted, looking at an image with an aerial view of the property. “There could be a section inaccessible to the police.”

“Or they can have another place on the property,” Grace added. “The Le Domas’s like to throw their victims into the barn.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked.

“You go in hard and fast.” Grace asked moved to stand in front of the board. “Leave soon and it’ll still be daylight.”

“They’ll be hidden.”

Grace nodded. “You’ll be armed with everything I have, make entry, investigate, but you’ll be setting charges throughout the mansion.” Grace grabbed a piece of transparent plastic and laid it over the picture with the layout of the mansion. A small smirk tugged at your lips as you saw little green dots had been drawn on the plastic and were now showing you the perfect location for placing the charges.

“Defend yourselves if necessary but the goal is to get in and out,” Grace continued. She didn’t wait as she marched out of the room towards the weapons room. “Once the charges are placed get the hell out of there, then blow it when you’re a safe distance away.” She pushed open the door to the weapons room, revealing everything alerted neatly organized and laid out on the table.

“Each of you gets half,” Grace rested her hands on two stacks of explosives.

“You want us to split up?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’d rather you stay within line of sight.”

You clenched your jaw, taking opposite sides of the room while staying within visual of each other made logical sense. The two of you could get the job done in half the time by doing it that way. Vampires were fast though; you all knew that one could reach out of the shadows and grab Joey before you even had time to turn around. She didn’t talk about it much, but you were sure some of the people she was with got taken out when she or others were close by, before they even knew what they were dealing with.

“Stakes,” Grace continued. “Reinforced with a metal hilt,” she pointed at two matching wooden stakes, each of them carved with expert precision so they were capable of breaking through skin and bone, the silver metal at the bottom designed to help make the stake not break as easily but also act as a handle.

“Guns,” Grace said. “Specially designed to shoot wood bullets.” Joey raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Won’t kill them but it will hurt like a bitch.”

“Grenades,” Grace waved her hand dismissively as the half a dozen grenades she had sitting in a box.

“No flamethrower?” You snarked.

Grace flicked a glare at you, she never let you use a flamethrower. “I’m just saying, what better way to clear out a nest?” You tried to reason.

Joey ignored you as you continued to try and persuade Grace, though you made less and less progress every time. Despite focusing on trying to sell Grace on your idea, you did catch a ghost of a smile on Joey’s face.

“You needed to head out,” Grace said, effectively putting an end to the conversation. “You’re losing daylight.”

You opened your mouth but shut it when you felt your phone vibrate. You looked at it to see Grace had sent the coordinates to the mansion, a digital layout of the mansion, and anything else you might need. “Fine,” you sighed.

You slid one of the guns over to Joey and shoved the other in the back of your waistband. You slid her one of the stakes, then each of you strapped it to your side. You hoped it would truly be a quick in and out job, no stake needed, but you never had that kind of luck. It was better to keep the stake within reach and not need it than need it and not be able to get to it.

Grace quickly threw in the remainder items and zipped up the two bags. You grabbed both of them and gestured for Joey to lead the way. You followed her to your car, and she tossed them in the back when she opened the trunk. Grace followed you out to the car but didn’t step away when you closed up the trunk.

You gave Joey a nod telling her to get in, Grace clearly had something she wanted to say. Grace stepped closer once Joey was in the car and the door was closed. You furrowed your brow as you tried to get a read on Grace, it wasn’t often she didn’t want Joey to overhear what she had to say, there was generally no reason for secrecy.

“Be careful,” Grace whispered. You opened your mouth, Grace told you that all the time, it was hardly something secret. “Don’t be a hero.” You furrowed your brow, but your eyes quickly softened at the realization of what Grace was asking you.

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” you whispered. “Just like with you.”

You couldn’t make a promise you knew you wouldn’t keep. Even Grace knew you couldn’t keep such a promise. You didn’t think of yourself as a hero, you could never be one with the monster inside you. If it ever came down to it though you wouldn’t let anything happen to Joey or Grace, they had too much to live for, too much to offer the world.

Grace let out a sigh that sounded like she was reluctantly accepting your answer, knowing she wouldn’t get a better one. “Just…” Grace whispered. “Come back to me. I kind of like having you around.”

Your lips quirked up in that classic soft smile of yours. Grace could be cold and distant after everything she went through. She was also a total badass that could absolutely take care of herself, she proved that time and time again with doing this long before bringing you in and with being able to take you down almost effortlessly if she needed. However deep-down Grace still had that part of her that longed for a family. She didn’t talk much about her past, but you knew she never had anyone and then when she finally found someone, she thought was the love of her life, who was seemingly giving her everything she dreamed about, it all turned to shit. You didn’t want to be added to the list of things that hurt her, even if it wasn’t intentional, you didn’t want to be just another reason to close herself off from the world.

“You’re my best friend,” you said with a small shrug. “My family. I’ll always fight to return home.”

Grace threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Your entire body went rigid but quickly relaxed. Grace wasn’t much of a hugger but when you were honored with such a rare occasion you always instantly wrapped your arms around her as well. “If anything feels off, get that hell out of there,” she whispered.

You pulled away and nodded, silently making that promise. You did stupid stuff sometimes, didn’t retreat even though you knew it was better to. Ever since the hunters though Grace has been more protective, especially after continuing to come up empty on who they were. It should have been relatively easy to find them, it wasn’t like there was a large pool to draw from, but this hunters seemed nonexistent. You knew they weren’t new; they were skilled and worked silently as a team, that told you they were experienced hunting and working with each other.

You finally stepped away from Grace and hopped in the Jeep. You let out a sigh as you gripped the wheel before turning the key. “Everything okay?” Joey asked softly.

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. “She’s just worried.” Joey let out a small hum but didn’t comment further. You knew she felt the same as Grace, that she wouldn’t want you to be a hero, and would prefer it if you came back from each mission unharmed.

You tapped the button to start the GPS and got to moving. The mansion was almost an hour away and you needed to make it with as much daylight as you could. It wasn’t anywhere close to being dark, you had hours before the sunset, but you couldn’t take the risk. There was no telling how long it would take to set the charges, and you had to be careful as to where you placed them. You didn’t know what the inside looked like, there was no telling how many dark places completely devoid of the daylight there was. For all you knew, the mansion was completely engulfed in darkness and when you stepped foot in the mansion the two of you would be snatched up before either of you realized what was happening.

The radio quietly filled the otherwise comfortable silence between you and Joey. Joey herself even leaned over and turned up the music, generally she turned it down, sometimes even off. You tossed her a side glance and saw her resting her elbow out the own window and leaning her head on her hand as the window blew through her hair.

“Caleb asked when he’d get to see you again,” Joey said, breaking the silence when you were about halfway to the mansion.

You chuckled, you didn’t realize you had made such an impression on him. “Well, I’m happy to see him again whenever you want me too,” you said.

You weren’t in Joey’s life like that, you knew that. You weren’t even friends, you were co-workers. Joey drew a hard line when she first joined you and Grace, she allowed you to inch closer to that line by letting you meet Caleb. You wouldn’t ever push her though, you still wouldn’t go up to her apartment, you wouldn’t pick her up while Caleb was there. Just because she let you meet him once didn’t mean she wanted you interacting with him anymore than that.

Joey turned her head, tilting it as she seemed to take you in. You weren’t sure what she was seeing, you kept trying to glance at her out of the side of your eye but had to quickly return your focus to the road. She looked ahead again, but there was a small smile on her face, making you furrow your brow. You weren’t sure what her thoughts were given that she didn’t say anything more.

The rest of the car ride was continued in silence. You eventually got out to where the mansion was and turned down a gravel road. The gravel road stretched on for over a mile bled out into a newly paved driveway. You glanced at the surroundings as you pulled around the crumbling fountain out front. The driveway was nice, hardly looked like anyone driven on it. It didn’t match the rest of the area though, just like the pictures the mansion was vast, half of the stone crumbling, revealing the wood underneath, the other half was being devoured by vines. The forest surrounding the mansion was overgrown and created a natural canopy to hide anyone or anything hiding inside.

As soon as you parked you rolled up the windows, you didn’t need to make a quick escape only for a vampire to chase after you and yank one of you out of the open window. “Ready?” you asked, looking over at Joey. She stared straight ahead, her hands shoved in her pockets as she fiddled with a sweet-smelling candy. She let out a shaky breath before nodding.

You hopped out of the car and moved to the back, grabbing both backpacks and handing one to Joey. She slipped it on her shoulders, but her eyes never left the mansion. The windows were boarded up, obviously an attempt to keep out as much light as possible. Part of the roof was caved in; you could already see the way sunlight could peak in through the cracks of the walls. Some sunlight was getting in there, you just didn’t know how much.

“Stay behind me,” you whispered.

You quickly made your way up the steps, making sure your movements were as silent as possible. You reached out, your hand gripping the door handle. You glanced back at Joey one last time before pressing the door handle down and giving it a push. Nothing happened. You gave the door another hard shove, it wasn’t locked but it was clear something was keeping it stuck in place.

You let out a sigh and glanced back at Joey, she reluctantly sighed and gave a nod, knowing what you needed to do. You gripped the door handle tighter and slammed your shoulder into the door, instantly bursting through. You stumbled into the middle of the room and looked around at the broken bits of wood. When you turned around you saw the two by four that had been clearly nailed across the door broken in half.

You held your hand up, silently asking Joey to stay back. You glanced around the room, straining your ears to hear throughout the entire mansion for any signs of movement. When you picked up on nothing you nodded for Joey to come in. There were vampires in the building, you knew it, you could smell them, but at least they weren’t awake, at least it didn’t seem that they were.

You pointed for Joey to take the right side of the room while you took the left. There was more light on the right side and less rooms for vampires to pop out of. You unzipped the backpack and pulled out one of the explosives and placed it on the wall. You kept your ears focused on Joey, any change in breathing, any stumble, anything out of the ordinary, and you’d be on her in a second.

Once both of you had placed explosives in the room you began making your way up the stairs back-to-back. The only thing that seemed to be intact was the was the railing, the white stone steps were chipped at best, other bits partially crumbled, and you had to step over them to get to the next intact step.

You pointed at the area right beside the top of the stairs for Joey and crossed the room for yourself. The upstairs was darker, the only bit of sunlight peaking through the holes and cracks of the roof. You placed your next explosive across the room, in between two-bedroom doors.

You tilted your head, flashing your eyes as you stared down the dark hallway that led deeper into the mansion. You didn’t catch any movement or see any eyes staring back at you. The hallway was completely engulfed in darkness though. You inched forward, your foot just on the edge of the threshold that would having you stepping into the darkness. You placed the charge right beside the entrance of the hallway.

There was the tiniest creak and all the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You spun around and crossed the distance, grabbing the pale arm before it had the chance to reach out of a room and grab the small bit of Joey that was in the shadows. You tossed the creature across the room with your full force, its body smashing through one of the bedroom doors.

Another one shot out of the same room, tackling you over the railing and sending you crashing into the stone crashing from the force. You let out a groan but as soon as you opened your eyes the vampire latched onto your neck. You gritted your teeth as you tried to swallow your own scream.

Shots were fired and the vampire released you. You flipped it over and slashed your claws across its neck, ripping its head clean off from how deep they went. Your eyes were burning bright as you looked at the stairs to see Joey halfway down them, her gun still raised. You launched yourself in the air, landing in front of Joey just as a vampire sped forward, ready to grab her.

You held the vampire with one hand, your claws digging into its neck as you let our a fierce growl that rumbled the entire mansion. You latched onto its neck with your own teeth, and tossed it aside, letting it scramble back into the shadows to slowly die.

You tilted your head as the floors creaked from all across the mansion. You slowly inched down the steps closer to Joey. “That room,” you pointed to one of the closed doors down on the first level, the only one you didn’t hear a single sound coming from. “Go! Now!” You heard Joey’s feet stomping down the steps, not even attempting to argue with you. You flung yourself over the railing to protect her as she dashed across the foyer. The charges weren’t all set, Joey was still in the building, and you heard at least twenty different bodies rushing towards you. The coven was much bigger than you would have ever imagined, easily the biggest one you had ever faced.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrryxcx

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121 @sadoutlaw @pohtaytoh

#joey abigail #joey (abigail)#ana lucia cruz #ana lucia cruz abigail #joey (abigail) x reader #ana lucia cruz x reader #ana lucia cruz (joey)#melissa barrera #abigail movie #abigail 2024 #a beacon in the dark

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astars-things · 4 hours ago

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Drive with Y/n and Lando...

lando norris x quadrant athlete reader

Summary- where you and Lando do a quadrant video, where you drive around and he asks you questions that fans sent in, talk about your relationship

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Landos' camera guy, Ash, mounted the camera onto the dashboard, making sure it was secure and recording before giving us a thumbs up. One of the Quadrant admins put out a post on Twitter asking what quadrant athlete and or general video fans would like to see, and the most requested one was that you and Lando do a 'drive with me' type video, but the twist was that they wanted you to drive, so here you were sitting in the drivers seat of your Nissan G-T r35 (you can change the car if you want) with Lando in the passenger seat.

You had the Quadrant admins post an Instagram story and a Twitter post for people to send in their burning questions. You and Lando both picked out 10 of your favorites and got the team to put them on cards for Lando to read out. "I swear," you mutter, buckling your seatbelt and starting the car, "if you pick anything weird, I’m kicking you out. I mean it, Norris."

"You wouldn’t dare," he grins, stretching out like he’s on a beach somewhere. "I’m your emotional support passenger." You gave him an eye roll. You put the car into drive and made your way out of your street, so nobody could figure out where you lived from the video. "Quit touching things", you muttered as you wacked Landos' hand away from your phone as he kept pressing shuffle on your playlist. He let out a huff before dropping your phone back into the cup holder

Giving Lando a quick glance you mutter "Start the Q&A before you break something." as you flick your turn signal and ease the car into a nearby parking lot so you could do the intro together. The editors were going to have a field day with trying to edit this chaotic mess

You pulled into a car park to film the intro of video

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the best Quadrant video you’ll see this month. Possibly ever," he announces, dramatically looking over to you before continuing "Today we’re in the car with quadrant athlete and my girlfriend Y/N. She’s driving and I’m fearing for my life." you let out a loud sigh "Ignore my very dramatic boyfriend, I'm stepping aside from flipping dirt bikes to be here with you today" you said eyes flicking to the camera with a practiced smirk. "So you better appreciate the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"Lando repeats, feigning offense. "Anyways moving on. We asked you guys to send in questions on Instagram and Twitter, and we’ve picked our favorites. I’m driving because you lot demanded chaos and Lando is reading the questions."

"And making sure we don’t die," he adds. You hit him gently on his bicep when he tightened his seatbelt for dramatic effect "Okay you ready love" Lando cooed grabbing his cards from the floor of you car, you nodded back pulling the car out of the carpark "Okay first question coming from @.PitStopQueen Who takes longer to get ready in the morning?" Lando read out and with no hesitation you called out "Lando"

"Excuse me?" he says, eyes wide. "Don’t lie to the internet," you say calmly, changing lanes with one hand on the wheel. "You spend at least twenty minutes just fixing your hair." "That’s called personal grooming," he argued, waving one hand toward the dashboard camera. "Some of us care about looking presentable."

You raised an eyebrow. Making Lando second guess what he just said Lando just shook his head and held up the next card. "From @.Y/nLandoshipper How do you guys handle long distance?" You let out a soft breath, glancing at him to see if he wanted to answer or for you too, Lando gave you a nod silently saying you can answer

"Its not easy, let me just say, there are somedays where its tougher than most but it makes us value the time we do get to spend together" You said trying not to let tears out as you think of times when you needed Lando and he was on the other side of the world, Lando put his hand on your thigh gently rubbing it to give you comfort

"Lots of FaceTime calls," Lando added. "And spontaneous visits. I flew to your last event even though I had to be back the next day." you let out a little laugh remembering that day "You were only there for like twelve hours." "Best twelve hours of my life," he said with a wink.

You smiled despite yourself. "We’re lucky we understand each other’s schedules. I think that’s the key." Lando let out a hum agreeing to your statement, Lando held up the next card, reading dramatically "From @.CircusFan Lando what is the coolest trick you have seen Y/n preform?"

He let the question hang in the air for a second, glancing over at you with a grin that said he already had an answer locked and loaded. "Oh, that’s easy," he said, looking straight into the dash-mounted camera. "It was that backflip thing you did, off the mega ramp, in Vegas, I think? And then you let go mid-air and somehow landed it like it was nothing."

You smirked, eyes still on the road. "Superman seat grab backflip." "You were just casually flying through the air like gravity was optional. I’ve never screamed so loudly watching a live stream. I called you right after, didn’t I?" Lando exclaimed, still clearly amazed by it.

You nodded, laughing at the memory. "You were more breathless than I was." Lando turned back to the camera with a pointed look. After a couple of more questions it was time to answer the last one, Lando looked over at you, grin already tugging at the corner of his lips as he read the final card. "Okay last question is from @.GridGossip How did you two meet"

You groaned softly, your face already warming. "you picked this one didn't you" Lando gave you his classic not so innocent face "Maybe" Lando said, practically vibrating in the passenger seat with excitement. "You said you not lie to the internet, remember?"

You gave him a look. "yeah but I didn't really want to expose myself to much today" Lando let out a little laugh "c'mon its a cute story" You sighed, knowing there was no way of getting out of this "Fine, we met on raya. Happy now?" You groaned not really ready for the comments you were going to receive from this, you pulled into a car park quite ready to end this video and go home to hide away,

"At the same time," Lando insisted, pointing between the two of you. "Let’s do it properly. On three." You rolled your eyes, but held up three fingers with him. "One, two, three" "Raya," you both said, in perfect sync. Then came the laughter. Easy, familiar, the kind that felt like home.

You both interlocked hands "Okay thank you everyone for watching todays video, I'm going to go get y/n ice cream for making her answer that last question, thank you to everyone who sent in questions." You laugh, leaning in toward the camera. "If you want a part two where Lando drives and I cling to the door handle for dear life, like, comment, subscribe, all the YouTube things."

"bye" you both said waving at the camera

@.User This was pure chaotic gold. Y/N's so calm behind the wheel and Lando's just... there for vibes 😂

@.User2 The thigh grab when she talked about long distance??? They're so in love it physically hurts me

@.User3 they're giving chaotic domestic energy and i'm eating it UP.

@.User4 Thank you for feeding us with (yourship name) content

*Photo is from pinterest- however, I made the YouTube bit

please reblog, like and comment 🫶

#send in requests #lando norris x quadrant athlete!reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando x you #lando norris #lando x reader #quadrant #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #ln4

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catzz089 · 2 days ago

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Lestappen reverse amnesia for the Put That Guy Into A Situation ask game?? 👀👀👀

Max had been having a great day.

Perfect, even.

He’d walked to a bakery in the other side of Monaco without being interrupted, ordered and walked all the way back and still, there were no photos or autographs or anything.

And look, he appreciated that people liked him, he really did. He enjoyed hearing people shout his name in grandstands and cheer for him and make him little bracelets with “inchident” written on them. It was lovely, truly.

But god. Sometimes he missed the peace and sanctity of being alone and getting to actually live his life.

It was rare he had days like this, especially in Monaco, where all the worlds famous people are compounded into one tiny country, and people came from far and wide specifically to watch them like animals in a cage.

You couldn’t blame him for wanting a day or two in silence.

Well, not total silence.

Today had been total silence.

He hadn’t received texts from anyone. Not the team, even though he knew he was due a stern talking to for skipping a press conference.

Hell, not even Charles had texted.

Which he wasn’t upset about, he really wasn’t.

It just…

He’d been dating Charles for eight whole months, and he knew in the grand scheme of things that was nothing, but it felt so right. So normal.

They’d managed to tip-toe around each other for about a week or so, before they finally took the drive and went straight in. Since then it had been magical.

It was a new, brilliant feeling to be loved so wholeheartedly. And every single morning, every single one, they would send each other a good morning message, maybe a face time call. Probably a promise to call later. They’d continue texting throughout the entire day, even when they were still going to see each other.

Charles had never forgotten, not properly. Because even when he forgot, Max wouldn’t. Once Max sent his, Charles would usually be straight on it and it would all be perfect.

Max had sent his message at 7:42.

It was 14:28.

He wasn’t bitter. He could never be upset with Charles. It just maybe felt a little lonely.

It had been seven hours. Even if Charles had woken up late, surely it wouldn’t have been that late.

(Max knew he hadn’t woken up late. He knew. It was a Tuesday, Charles always went to the gym at 8am on a Tuesday. He also had a Ferrari meeting today, he’d been told about that last week. The meeting was at 12, Charles should be awake.)

It was fine.

Charles would message later.

———

Charles did not message later.

Max was beginning to get the sickening feeling that something was really, really wrong.

In his boredom he’d texted about a thousand other people- even Esteban got sent a meme of their podium together.

Absolutely no responses.

Not one person messaged him back.

He was desperately hoping Charles was just super busy, or maybe he’d lost his phone.

Something like that.

Charlie ❤️🏎️:

Me:

Good morning love

How are you?

Me:

Charles?

Are you okay?

Has something happened?

He’d give it an hour.

———

He did not give it an hour

It was maybe 25 minutes at best before he slipped his shoes on and slammed the door on his apartment shut.

It was a 10 minute walk, but he honestly couldn’t stop himself as he walked towards his Aston and jumped inside.

He shot down the street, desperately hoping he wouldn’t get fined for this, because a Formula 1 driver getting into issues because of a car was downright embarrassing.

Charles’ doorman didn’t spare him a glance and he swept inside and made a break for the stairs. The elevator alway took so long to open, he trusted his legs to go faster.

He didn’t waste a second, whipping out his spare key and instantly shoving it through the lock and pushing his way inside.

“Charles?” He called.

There was no response.

He walked further, going towards the kitchen.

He gently pushed open the door and-

He was slammed back with a vicious hand grabbing at his collar.

Cold sharp metal was pressed to his throat.

He barely managed to regain his balance in time to look Charles in his wide, wild eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charles growled.

Max opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

What the fuck was he doing.

“Charlie?”

“Don’t fucking Charlie me,” he snarled, “who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house.”

“Um, apartment, actually.” He corrected on total instinct.

The knife pressed harder.

Expertly done, Max. Real good job.

Now he was genuinely fearing for his safety, which really fucked with his head considering this was the only person he felt completely, 100% safe and comfortable with. But for whatever reason, Charles looked to be just in the wrong side of insane, and Max had some survival instinct to his name.

“No no no, Charles. What do you mean? I’m Max. Your fucking boyfriend? What the fuck is going on?” His breaths were coming in faster now, he laughed and it sounded fake and hysterical to his own ears.

Charles’ face never softened, not like it usually did. He kept his grip firm.

“Look, man. I get you’re some fucking fan or whatever, but you do not get to break into my fucking house and act like we know each other.” He snapped.

“What? No, have you hit your head? Charles I’m your boyfriend. At the very least I’m your fucking coworker, we’ve been racing against each other since we were eight.” Max stressed.

Charles somehow managed to look even more angry.

Max grabbed his wrist and pushed the knife away, very quickly followed by Charles himself getting a firm shove as he jumped back and far far away from his pyscho insane boyfriend.

“No no no, Charles I swear. I can prove it! I can prove it!” He whipped his phone out and brandished it about like a torch.

Charles was looking at him, still very angry but at least he wasn’t being threatened with the damn knife again.

Max rushed to pull up his camera roll, clicking in the ones of their most recent date.

“Look!” He exclaimed, scrolling through the photos from afar. “It’s you and me, see! Happy! Together! Because we are dating, Charlie.”

Charles looked pale and unsure, before it flicked straight back to anger.

“Is that fucking AI? You fucking psycho, you break into my apartment claim we’re dating and then show me fake photos? You don’t think I’d be able to remember my boyfriend?”

“Well, honestly I kind of thought you’d remember your boyfriend too,” Max muttered, which was the wrong decision as the fire relit Charles eyes and he stepped forward.

Max was still far too aware of the massive kitchen knife hung in his hand and Charles’ usually harmless tendency to defend the people and things around him.

Except this time he was defending himself from his boyfriend and Max was scared.

“Okay, uhm, it seems like this is a bad time? I’ll- uh- pop back in later?” He said, more of a question than anything else.

He backed slowly towards the door, watching Charles carefully for any changes in movement; like prey escaping a predator.

When Charles seemed to register his words, and moved after him to do something, Max leapt back and out of the door, slamming it in front of him.

———

The second Max entered his apartment he make a break for his bed and collapsed onto it, burying his face in a pillow- which didn’t even fucking help because the pillow smelt like Charles and Charles didn’t even know who he was.

Was he okay?

Had he hit his head or something?

Max hoped he hadn’t, he was busy moping in bed instead of calling an ambulance for his disillusioned boyfriend. If something was wrong Max was being insanely useless.

Charles had never looked at him like that before.

Max had seen him angry, hell he’d even seen Charles angry at him. But that had been different. So, so different.

At least Charles knew his fucking name, at least they both knew they’d get it sorted out the second the emotions had calmed down. At least Max hadn’t been scared of being hurt.

His eyes gazed over his streams of messages. Some people had left him on read. Some delivered.

Nobody had responded.

No, he thought.

Charles wasn’t the issue here.

Max was.

He wasn’t sure how or why, but for some reason he was the issue and he had no fucking idea how to solve it.

He clenched his eyes shut.

What the fuck was he meant to do?

Nobody knew him.

Did he still have a job? Could he still race?

There was a month before the next one, surely that was enough time to figure it out.

God, did he have anyone?

Charles clearly didn’t remember him, what about his sister? His mother? His friends?

Was he just.. a ghost?

What had happened?

And how the fuck was he meant to get things back to the way they were?

He couldn’t live like this. He knew that.

What was the point if he woke up to a cold bed, woke up to do nothing and then went back to bed?

He wanted Charles back.

He wanted his morning cuddles and secret make out sessions and careful words back.

His heart ached at the thought that he might never get that again.

He could never love anybody else after Charles, he was it for Max. They were meant to get married and retire and move away together in a house by the water somewhere with a zoo of animals.

He brushed his hand over his neck. He could feel the raised skin where the knife had grazed. It hadn’t cut him, not properly, it had just broken a couple of the top layers of skin, leaving it red and inflamed. It hurt, almost. It hurt more that Charles had been the one to do it.

His sweet, caring Charles who always looked out for him, and held him tight and treated him with such reverence Max hardly knew how he deserved it.

Maybe he didn’t.

Maybe, some omniscient force recognised that Max didn’t deserve the love and affection Charles presented him on a silver platter, and ripped him away. It must have been too overpowered for Max to even be able to do anything.

He felt cold, like the terror creeping through his veins had turned to ice and he would never be able to feel warm again.

He fought back the tears pressing at the corners of his eyes and hauled himself up to the closet.

He pulled out a hoodie. His favourite one.

Obnoxious red with a massive 16 on the back. It smelled distinctly of his favourite cologne.

He slipped it on and flopped back into his bed.

He was overwhelmed with the scent and feel of what should’ve been pure happiness, but was now beginning to feel like the worst mix of dread and despair.

He curled up tighter, not even bothering to go underneath the covers, even if it would’ve helped with the ceaseless shivers.

His breaths turned shattered, until they turned into soft sobs ripping their way past his lips.

He gripped his legs, digging his nails in under the vauge hope it would help ground him.

The crying never stopped, no matter how hard he tried to muffle it down.

His eyelids felt wet and heavy, his entire body felt weak and useless but he just couldn’t sleep.

He checked his clock, 02:14.

His mind was still restless, running on a mill that never slowed or stopped. It just kept fucking going.

By the time his body finally gave up and lulled him into a fitful sleep, it read 04:01

———

He startled awake as a loud bang resonated across his room. He jumped upright, propping himself up on the bed with his hands, especially as his head spun at the sudden change.

He looked to the doorway, a shadowy outline of a person with their hands pressed agaisnt the side of the doorframe.

It almost looked like-

“Charles?”

He seemed to deflate, and stepped closer.

Max flinched back, thinking for just a second that Charles had returned to finish what he started, until Charles, in a voice so utterly soft and breathless said, “Oh, Max.”

Max let out some strangled mix between a sob and a sigh of relief. Charles leapt forward onto the bed and pulled Max into his arms.

Max instantly reciprocated, wrapping his arms firmly around his torso and shoving his head into the warm crook between his neck and collar as he safely positioned himself on Charles’ lap.

Charles pressed frantic kisses along the top of his head, gripping him close protectively, like nothing else in the world mattered.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry mon cœur.” He whispered.

“I swear. I swear I don’t know what came over me. I love you, Max. I love you more than you even know, sweetheart.”

Max sniffled, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m so so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby.”

Charles gently peeled Max away from him, eliciting an embarrassing whine.

He framed Max’s face with his hands, dropping kiss after kiss on porcelain skin.

His forehead, cheeks, nose, lips. Max surged back in desperately for a stronger, firmer kiss. Charles complied easily, moving a hand to card through his hair.

Eventually, he pulled away, to Max’s displeasure.

He titled Max’s head up, taking a squinted look at his neck.

Max heard his breath hitch and felt his hands begin to tremble as they pushed Max back into his body, curling his arms tighter around him.

“God- I. Max I’m so sorry. I swear- I promise, I-“ Charles stuttered. He sounded so genuinely distraught that it hurt Max too.

He also sounded frighteningly close to tears, and Max really didn’t want that.

“It’s okay, Charlie.” He said, his voice came out low and croaky.

“No it’s not. I hurt you. I threatened you. Fuck, Max. I had a knife to your throat. What part of that is okay?”

Max sat up and snuck his arms around Charles’ neck.

“No, Charlie. You saw an intruder break into your house and did what you could to get them out.” He said sternly. “I don’t know what happened yesterday. But nobody knew me. You couldn’t have done anything about that. That is exactly what I want you to do whenever someone breaks in.”

Charles looked miserable staring at him. Max smiled softly and kissed his forehead.

“The intruder isn’t meant to be you, baby. You came in with a key. That’s not intruding. And what if I had been worse? I don’t ever, ever want to hurt you. I want to keep you safe from everything, but I was the one putting you in danger.”

Max frowned.

“I’m okay, Charlie. You didn’t hurt me. I’ve done worse itching my neck.” He explained, his throat was begging him to stop talking but he had to keep going until he forced it through his boyfriend’s thick skull.

Charles huffed a little hysterically, “You’re eyes are raw and red, I came in and you were curled up on top of the duvet wearing my hoodie that you were clinging on to way too tightly. You have massive black circles under your eyes and a cut on your neck that I put there.”

Max loved him so much. But sometimes he was so stupid.

“Yes, well you’re here now, aren’t you? You can fix me up nice and quickly. You’re always the best at it.”

Charles perked up at that, not obviously but Max knew. He would always know.

“Yes, of course- I mean… Can I? Please?” He asked hopefully.

Max let out a wet laugh, “Yes, of course Schat. I finally get you back, obviously I want you to take care of me.”

Charles sighed in relief, pulling Max back in and flopping them both down into bed so they were lying down. He kicked the sheets down until he could flick them over the both of them, encasing them in warmth.

Max cuddled happily into him, dropping a trail of kisses across his neck.

“I think,” Charles whispered, “We start by getting some more sleep. Then I can make you a nice breakfast, and we can have breakfast in bed-“

“Charlie,” Max giggled, “You can’t even boil pasta properly. You’ll burn my apartment down if you try breakfast.”

Charles gasped dramatically, “Lies and slander, mon trésor. How dare you.” He grabbed Max’s waist and flipped them both over, so Max was underneath Charles, staring up at him as he sat up and straddled Max’s waist.

“You’ll pay for this, baby. I have no other option.” He monologued. “I’m going to have to torture you,” He bent down and pressed a flurry of kissed over Max’s face, coating every available surface until Max was laughing and writhing underneath him.

“Charles! Get your slobber off of me!” He shrieked, but Charles continued his attack with vigour.

“Have you had enough, sweetheart? Because I’m afraid we aren’t done yet!”

Max managed to get his arms free enough to cover his face from the onslaught and pushed back against Charles’ face.

“I surrender! I surrender!” He shouted, and Charles finally let up.

“Fine fine,” he drawled, “Just let me see your pretty face.”

Charles coaxed his arms away from his smiling face and dropped one more firm kiss onto his lips.

They grinned at each other, the previous day forgotten. Charles grabbed at Max’s waist again to spin them back over so Max could curl back into his chest again, exactly where he belonged.

“I love you, baby.” Charles sighed fondly.

“I love you too, Charlie.”

#if you look closely #you can find a hint on who the informant is #I haven’t made it particularly obvious though #ficlet #formula 1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #formula 1 fanfic #asks #writing prompts #prompts #reverse amnesia

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sheerfreesia007 · 8 hours ago

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Floral Confessions & Runway Hearts

Pairing: Lee Felix x Reader

Word count: 1,040

Content warnings: Slight angst, Fluff

Summary: When a misleading photo sparks rumors about Felix and another model during Paris Fashion Week, he rushes home early, bouquet in hand, to reassure you of his unwavering love. Through a shared language of flowers and heartfelt words, the two of you reaffirm the trust and bond that make your relationship so special.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway, @m-325

The moment you met Felix you knew he was special, there was just something about his easy attentiveness that drew you in and his sense of humor was captured and held your attention almost a year ago. You had both started out as friends and slowly let your relationship blossom into what it was a loving partnership that you both cherished greatly. And while you knew Felix was attentive and caring you hadn’t imagined that he’d share your love of flower language but when you had sent him a simple small Chrysanthemum bouquet he had called you up as soon as they were delivered.

”They’re beautiful! Thank you so much!” He gushed to you over the phone and you had smiled softly at his words. “No one has ever sent me a bouquet to celebrate a new friendship.” He admitted bashfully and you had felt your heart soar with those words.

”You know the language of flowers?” You asked surprised and Felix had chuckled softly at your question.

”Yeah, I hope that’s not weird or not what you intended with the flowers.” He tried backtracking but you quickly reassured him.

”No, no. That’s what the bouquet is for, I just haven’t met anyone who knows the meaning behind certain flowers.” You explained.

And that was how things began between the two of you, you would both send flower bouquets that held special meaning behind them that only the two of you understood. It had become a second language for the two of you whenever the thought and sentiment struck. And it was something that neither one of you had known that you needed until there was slight trouble in paradise.

This week Felix would be out of the country to walk in the Louis Vuitton fashion show at Paris Fashion Week. You were so incredibly proud of him and had already worked it out with his manager to be able to send him a bouquet of sunflowers for adoration, tulips for a declaration of love, and camellias for admiration. You had made sure that the flowers would be waiting for him when he got back to the hotel room after his time at the fashion show. You were hopeful that he would love the flowers just as much as you enjoyed picking them out for him.

You had been stuck at work during the fashion show and had managed to catch a few minutes of it but thankfully had seen Felix walk the runway. Sending a quick text to him telling him how gorgeous he had looked and that you were so proud of him you had to return back to work. The rest of the day you knew that Felix wouldn’t be available to send you any texts and knew that eventually he’d reach out so you had continued on with work until late at night when you were finally released and could go home to fall into your lonely bed.

When you woke the next morning after passing out as soon as you fell into bed you were surprised to find a bunch of missed texts and calls not only from Felix but also from Chan and the other boys. After quickly reading the texts you figured out that Felix has been photographed standing a little too close to another beautiful model and the press and paparazzi had run with that interaction claiming that Felix and the model might be tied together in some way.

Felix had even sent you some texts telling you that he would never disrespect you or your relationship like that and he’s sorry that he had been photographed like that. Even Chan’s texts had been vouching for Felix letting you know that Felix was head over heels for you and would never jeopardize your relationship like that. You had sent off texts letting the boys know that you appreciate their concern and worry but you knew Felix wouldn’t do that and you had already been prepped by all of them about bad press like this.

Just as you were getting up to make yourself breakfast you heard a knock at your door and frowned softly wondering who would be coming to see you. Padding through your apartment you made it to the door and peered through the peephole to spot Felix standing in front of your door looking nervous. You quickly opened the door and grinned at him happily.

”Good morning Sunshine!” You greeted him ecstatically as you pulled him into a tight hug before pecking his lips softly. Felix hummed against your mouth before crowding you back into the apartment and shutting the door behind him with a kick of his foot. “I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow?” You asked worriedly when you both pulled away from the kiss.

”After I saw the headlines of the press coverage about me and the model I rearranged my flight back to come home sooner.” Felix admitted softly and shyly and you frowned softly before you spotted the pretty bouquet in his hands. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you noticed the beautiful white roses for love, passion, and romance and then there were the stunning blue forget me nots, for remembrance, true love and loyalty.

”Oh Felix.” You said softly in understanding as you gently took the bouquet from his hands before looking up at him.

”I was so worried that those articles would ruin what we have. What we’ve built. I don’t want you to ever doubt my love for you, my devotion to you.” He admitted softly and you smiled fondly up at him before you stepped close and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a reassuring warm hug.

”I know you Felix. I know you would never do something like that.” You tell him confidently as you squeeze him close. “We not only communicate through words but flowers. There’s no way that you could ever be that cruel.” You tell him knowingly and Felix smiles bashfully down at you before he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now c’mon, I’m starving. You can help me make breakfast.” You tell him and he grins widely as love, relief and happiness shines through his happy face.

#my writing #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix

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lostwysteria · 10 hours ago

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(Part 5! Let's goooooo!! You all make me so happy! Omg. Some of the tags sent me.)

Nice had glommed onto him once more. Ling didn't mind. The rank 15 hero ran hot and ling was always a bit chilly. Some of his regulars gave him soft, warm cardigans because of that. After he wore one once, his Trust Value went up ten levels. From 525 to 515. He was going to add the super soft light blue oversized cardigan to his colder weather Homemaker ‘uniform’. Which previously only added boots and half finger gloves.

“Mmm. You are amazing with children, Lin Ling.” Nice said into his hair. The other hero was floating a little off the ground and Ling was basically dragging him along like a balloon with him attached to his back.

“It started as me babysitting as a child to help nake money. Over time my Trust grew and it became one of my powers. Homemaking, I guess you can call it, is actually a wide set of powers under one broad umbrella.” He explained as they reached his building. Ling half wanted to ask if the white haired hero had plans to leave anytime soon, but that thought quickly vanished. Nice was his charge now, after all.

Ling set down the canvas bag full of goodies most parents gave him in return for watching their children for a few hours. Ling could handle up to eighty children and adults at once with his abilities. Today was about average in terms of turnout.

“This is another ability. It just appeared one day. I like to call it my bag of holding. It can carry up to 226 kg. It feels as if it only weighs 11 kg at most at capacity.”

“Amazing!” Nice actually looked amazed. Cute. Nice was very cute.

Ling laid out the goodies on the small table. He got a bit of fresh produce and some canned goods. “I rarely have to buy food for myself, as you can see. Another one of my abilities is to be able to tell at a glance if a food or something is contaminated or tampered with. This is all good.”

“Has someone tried harming you like that before!?” Nice yelped.

“A couple of times. Just jealous spouses that didn't like that their significant others are talking to someone other than them.” Ling shrugged. Nice gaped at that. Ling pulled out a couple of balls of soft yarn. “I am great at handicrafts. I don't on't have time, normally, to sit down and crochet blankets, scarves, hats, stuffed toys, and such. I prefer crochet over knitting.”

Nice’s eyes were sparkling now. He was observing Ling’s hands like they contained untold secrets.

A knock at the door startled both of them.

Ling went to answer the door.

“Miss. J!” Nice yelped and slammed the door in her face as soon as he saw her.

She opened it back up herself and came in with her three ‘assistants’.

“What in the world is wrong with you!” She yelled at Nice, who was keeping Lin Ling behind him.

“I’m sick of being a hero! You give me no support. You only care about the brand! I’m not going back!”

“Oh yes you are!”

The two argued for 20 minutes before Nice dropped a bomb.

“If I have to go back, Homemaker is coming with me as my Emotional Support Hero! He saved me, after all!”

“Absolutely not!” The blonde woman rejected the idea immediately.

“If I can't, then I’ll find the tallest and most public building and walk right off the roof! Don't test me!” Nice said, darkly.

“Woah! No! Not on my watch!” Ling yelped and clutched Nice’s hand. Nice crawled into Ling’s lap and hid his face in Ling’s neck.

“Fine! You win.” Miss. J looked done with the whole situation. “But! Homemaker has to sign on with us as well.”

“No!” Nice yelled in alarm. Setting off a four hour contract negotiation. Ling somehow fell asleep during it. He was woken up after a couple of hours by Nice holding out a fancy looking pen to him.

“You won't have to actually fight any villains or appear in commercials. You will primarily be taking care of Nice and Moon. You will be living with them. You can continue watching children and parents wherever you please. You will be paid fairly in relation to your rank. We will be getting you a proper uniform, though.” Miss. J explained as she handed over her tablet and had him sign. Then she handed him some paper NDA’s.

The next two hours were a blur. Nice helped him pack what he wanted right away and the rest would be put in storage.

Little did they know that this was the exact outcome Miss. J had wanted to make happen.

…

Top 20 Hero Forum

CatNap: Omg! Everyone! Homemaker is going to be living with Nice and Moon! I am the small-time Hero, CatNap. My abilities are just from sneaking up on and finding lost kitties and other scared pets. I caught this from outside my neighbor, Homemaker's apartment door. It was still open from the scary lady barging in to yell at Nice. She must be his handler or something

*A short video of Miss J. Explaining Homemaker's new role played.*

…

It breached containment quickly and soon got posted on other social medias. The internet exploded.

…

Moon found the video while doomscrolling and quickly researched what had been happening. She outright cackled in glee at the shipping wars. She shipped NiceHome (the ship name) 100%. Anything that could possibly free her was her new favorite thing in the world. She found her new favorite hero. She found an etsy shop that had a chibified Homemaker keychain. She bought ten.

Shut Up and Dance @tiredfanfic

OMG! Poor Homemaker! Getting bullied into that! Byt omg! Look at how Nice is cuddling Homemaker! I ship it! #NiceHome

#tbhx #to be hero x #hero lin ling #homemaker lin ling #lin ling #nice tbhx #miss j tbhx #moon tbhx

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nevadancitizen · 1 day ago

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-> CH. 9: UNSAID UNDERSTANDINGS

synopsis: you come to an understanding with arthur and formally introduce yourself to that ex-o'driscoll.

word count: 3.2k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: content warning for one use of the r-slur (reader uses it to describe themselves) & also sorry for the big gap between chapters, studying for finals has been eating up my time TT-TT

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @its-yummi , @fatherbangboo , @shackspossum , @swedesfics , @literallyrousseau , @xprloki , @pedifero , @6esi , @xnorthstar3x , @scorpio-echo , @eafv2323 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

So far, Jack and Charles are the only people to ask you directly what the future’s all about. Charles, because you opened up to him first; Jack, because he’s a child and doesn’t know any better regarding manners and tact.

But one man has you asking questions more than anyone else. Who else could it be besides Arthur Morgan? Of course it’s Arthur Morgan…

It’d take an entire army’s worth of eyes in the sky and boots on the ground to trail him and figure out what he’s truly thinking. First, he points a gun at you, makes fun of you, deliberately misunderstands what you say, and laughs at you. Then? Then, he offers you his cot after you faint – he technically didn’t even offer it; he just laid you up in it. You’ve only really seen this kind of erratic behavior from… well, you haven’t even really seen it before. He’s just acting weird.

But it begs the question. Does he care? Does he actually, really care? Or was he just trying to fulfil some secret obligation you don’t know about? Did he lose a bet? Does he feel guilty? You don’t think so, because if he felt guilty about pointing a gun at someone, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d feel when he pulled the trigger.

Arthur is a goddamn mystery. You’re being given the pieces to solve the puzzle that is him, but the more you’re given, the more confused you are.

You’re sure he feels the same. In the morning, you offered him coffee (at Hosea’s insistence), but at the end of the day, you were yelling at him. Maybe you’re the mystery and not the other way around.

Well, actually, on a fundamental level, you are a mystery – but not because you’re hot and closed-off and are secretly an international spy with a menagerie of lovers. You’re a nervous mess that claims to be from the future that could barely hold down one man. No one knows what’s going on, least of all yourself.

But that doesn’t stop things from continuing to happen. As much as you want to press pause and fuck off somewhere else for a while, you can’t. This isn’t Adam Sandler’s 2006 hit Click. And honestly, if you could be anywhere right now, you’d be in Adam Sandler’s 2006 hit Click. It sure as hell would be a lot less stressful than slumming it in 1899.

Adam Sandler wouldn’t have to fetch water like goddamn Cinderella, you think to yourself as you dip the pail Grimshaw sent you with into the river. You stand up straight and set the bucket on top of your head, balancing it with a hand on either side. “Oh, I’m Happy Gilmore, and I’m so happy because I live in a time with running water and easily accessible plumbing!” Fuck off entirely.

You sigh sharply, but try your best to shake off the lingering jealousy that must’ve confused your longing for a normal life for a longing to be Adam Sandler. You’re… pretty sure you don’t want to be Adam Sandler, anyway.

The ground underfoot is a bit steep, but nothing you can’t handle. The rubber of your boots are wet from standing in the shallows while collecting water, but it almost kind of seems to be helping with traction against the dry ground. The weight on your waist from the filled canteens hanging from your belt seem to be helping you keep your balance, too.

A man comes down the trail, riding on a horse. He pulls the reins when he’s a few yards away from you, causing the horse to stop.

“Hello,” he greets. “May I ask how you’re doing on this fine day?”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you say. You adjust your grip, bringing one of your hands up to the lip of the pail. “I’m going back to the, uh… homestead. With water. For… my chickens.”

“Chickens!” The man says, his voice enthusiastic. “It’s gettin’ to be summer – they must be laying a lot of eggs, right?”

“Yes,” you say. “Lots of eggs. The – the general store can’t get enough of my eggs.”

You put on a grimacing smile and try your best to ignore whatever awkward mess of words just came out of your mouth. The man seems… charmed rather than put off by anything you just said.

Before he can say anything more, thundering hoofbeats storm up the trail from behind the man. Arthur Morgan descends on this little picturesque moment between strangers, his horse’s hooves digging into the ground as he pulls to an immediate stop.

“Hey!” He barks. He draws his pistol, but keeps it aimed at the sky. “Sir, I gotta ask you to keep your distance. That’s an accomplice of Landon Ricketts – dangerous criminals, both of ‘em. I’ve been sent to hunt and capture ‘em.”

The man grips his reins tighter, an almost shocked look passing over his face when he actually processes Arthur’s words. You can’t even speak to refute what he said.

“You – really?” The man asks. “Why aren’t they reaching for their gun, then?”

Arthur points to his temple. “Brain’s crippled from a lawman pistol-whippin’. But make no mistake – this one’s killed hundreds.”

The man looks you over, his eyes wide. “My! I wouldn’t imagine a simpleton capable of such things…!”

“I’m not,” you say, a mix of anger and anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “You’re – I don’t even… Who’s Landon Ricketts?”

“The stuttering, the confusion,” the man says, waving a hand. “It makes sense. Well, good luck on collecting your bounty, sir!”

He spurs his horse, then he’s off like a shot. You don’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye before he’s out of earshot.

“What the hell was that?!” You snap at Arthur. “I’m trying – I was just talking to him!”

“He was gonna rob you,” Arthur says, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “I don’t know if you can find it in yourself to appreciate it, but I could’ve just saved your life.”

“You didn’t do jack shit!” You throw the pail on the ground, splashing his horse’s hooves and legs. “You rode up, called me dangerous, then called me slow. What – which is it? Am I a danger to you? Or am I just some retarded piece of shit?”

Arthur looks away, then back to you. “Now, I never said –”

“Which is it?” You bark. “Am I a danger to you? Or to myself?”

“You’re… not dangerous,” he admits slowly. “And you ain’t mentally crippled, neither. I was just tryin’ to get him away – can’t you see that?”

“Oh, so you’re justified,” you say. “You’re justified because you’re this – you’re this big man, big Arthur Morgan. Big Arthur Morgan who gets to do whatever he wants. Big Arthur Morgan that doesn’t have to apologize for what he’s done.”

“I apologize that that’s how I had to go about gettin’ rid of a potentially dangerous man.” He sweeps an arm out towards the direction the man rode away in. “Need I remind you – you don’t even know how to draw your gun!”

Your hand flies to Uncle’s gun in your holster, then your arm snaps straight. You look down the barrel at Arthur. An uneasy silence settles over the two of you.

You can feel the blood rushing through every artery, vein, and capillary bed in your body. It roars in your ears. Sweat drips down the middle of your back. Your finger rests on the trigger, the metal cold against your warm skin like iced fire.

You’re paralyzed. So is the world around you. So is Arthur. He just looks down the barrel back at you, blinking and breathing and beating his heart like nothing’s wrong.

“Do you know what it’s like?” You ask, your voice shaking despite your efforts to steel yourself. “To wake up just to have a gun shoved in your face? Because I have. Because you pointed a gun at me, and – and you haven’t even tried to apologize!”

“I know what it’s like,” Arthur says, his voice rumbling and quiet. “I’ve been shot, I’ve been stabbed – hell, I’ve been knocked unconscious more times than I can count. What point are you tryin’ to make?”

“I’m…” You take a slow breath in, then out. “I’m trying to say… I don’t – I don’t know. I just… You’ve been such a dick, and I haven’t said anything because I’m a nice person. But you just keep – you keep being such a little fucking shit about everything!”

“You’re pointin’ a gun at me,” Arthur says. “I don’t think that’s very nice.”

“Shut up!” You snap. “I just – I just want an apology, but you can’t even do that, can you? You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”

“The hell do I need to apologize for?” He asks, incredulous.

“For pointing a gun at me!” You shake the gun in your own hand for emphasis. “Y’know, the thing that could actually kill someone? The thing you have used to kill someone? Where I’m from, pointing a gun at someone is enough to get you arrested!”

“Oh, and I’m sure your sheriff is doin’ a wonderful job enforcin’ that rule,” Arthur says, his tone growing more impatient. “Now can you put the goddamn gun down?”

“Can you apologize?” You counter. “I just want to know. Are you physically capable of apologizing? Of saying the words, “I’m sorry”?”

“I’m sorry.” Arthur pulls on the reins of his horse, causing him to shake his head back and forth. “Are you happy now?”

Though he actually did say the words “I’m sorry,” his tone obviously holds no sincerity and serves as just another mockery. But, you relent. He is physically capable of saying “I’m sorry.” You holster your gun.

“Somewhat,” you say. You bend down and pick up the bucket you threw. “I’m… I’m gonna go get water. Don’t wait up.”

You turn and start walking downhill, once again balancing the empty pail on your head. The filled canteens on your waist now weigh you down instead of grounding you. There’s slow hoofbeats behind you.

You don’t turn around. “Are you seriously following me?”

“You have proven yourself to be a bit hot-headed,” Arthur says. “I’m tryin’ to keep you outta trouble.”

You bite your tongue and keep your eyes forward. Yes, maybe you are a bit hot-headed, but that’s only when it comes to Arthur… and George Foreman, you guess. You’ve done a lot to keep your anger in check, but it’s hard to keep it there when he tempts you so.

The river laps at the soles of your shoes, then splashes onto the tops of them as you wade further in. Arthur stops on the shore, water just barely reaching his horse’s hooves. You bend down and get a bucketful of water, then set it on a rock jutting out of the river.

You glance over your shoulder at Arthur. “Where’s your canteen?”

“Here.” He detaches it from his saddle and holds it up. “Why?”

You hold your hand out. “I’ll fill it.”

“Don’t piss in it,” Arthur warns. He tosses it to you, and you catch it with ease.

“What the hell?” You unscrew the cap and dump out the old water. “I have a grudge, I’m not insane.”

You let a little river water trickle in the canteen, then put your palm on the opening and shake as a crude form of cleaning. After a few seconds, you pour the water out. You dip the mouth of the canteen into the river, letting it fill. You screw the cap back on and underhand throw it back to Arthur.

“Thank you,” he says as he clips it back onto his saddle.

“Don’t get used to it.” You pick up the now full pail, hefting it up with a grunt and balancing it on your head. You walk out of the river, then start uphill again. Arthur keeps pace beside you on his horse.

“What… what’s his name?” You ask. “Your horse.”

“Belmont,” Arthur says.

The horse does kind of look like a Belmont – his coat is white, sprinkled with black dots of varying sizes. He’s tall, and looks more agile than strong. You wouldn’t really expect Arthur to choose that type of horse, but you suppose he is still a mystery to you.

“You got a new horse, too,” he says, as if offhandedly. “She got a name?”

“Bronya.” You adjust the way the weight of the bucket is resting on your head. “It’s Russian.”

“Huh,” Arthur hums. “Can’t say Russia holds any prevalence in my life.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I… wouldn’t really expect it to. Not a lot of, um… Russian immigrants nowadays.”

Arthur goes quiet, looking out at the treeline. Well, that’s what you assume he’s doing, because you can’t really move your head all that much when you’ve got a bucket on top of it. You can feel through instinct that he’s not looking at you, anyway, and that’s kind of the only thing that matters to you.

The rest of the walk to camp is mostly silent aside from Belmont’s hooves hitting the ground and your quiet cursing when water spills over the lip of the pail. You greet Bill (who’s on guard duty) with a smile, while Arthur greets him with a tip of his hat.

When the hitching posts are about twenty feet away, Arthur dismounts and takes his hat off, then stuffs it in his saddlebag. He sends Belmont toward the other horses. You stop and look over at him.

He looks a bit… different without his hat. You’re not sure if he looks better or worse, but he certainly looks different. The sun that drips through the trees highlights some strands of his hair and makes them look a sunflower blond, while others the sunlight doesn’t touch look more like a golden brown. You know at least a dozen women that would kill to have hair like his.

“I was gonna offer my help,” Arthur says. “But if you’re just gonna stare, I can go.”

“What?” You swallow, harsh against your dry throat. It registers that you were, in fact, staring, and that Arthur is offering to carry the water pail. “Oh, yeah. Um, sure.”

You lift the bucket off your head and hold it out. Arthur takes it, then hefts it on top of his head without a whole lot of effort.

“Where’s this goin’?” He asks.

“The kitchen’s wash basin,” you say. “I need to go replace the canteens on the horses.”

Arthur just grunts in response, lumbering away towards Pearson’s wagon. You turn and make your way towards the fenceless corral – it’s just an area where Grimshaw decided to put the horses when everyone first arrived, really.

You start to match the canteens with the horses; a deerskin canteen for Bill’s Brown Jack, a canteen with silver inlays for Dutch’s Count, a plain black leather canteen for John’s Old Boy. They all seem happy enough to let you, a virtual stranger, approach them and pet them before you clip canteens onto their saddles.

Bronya paws at the ground as you come closer, her ears pointed forward. Her saddle is hanging on a post nearby, making her sort of look naked in a silly, horse way. You pat the corner of her jaw, smiling up at her.

“Hey, girlie,” you say softly. “How’ve you been doing?”

She just snorts in response. She doesn’t look stressed, or very worried about anything at all. In all honesty, she just looks happy to be alive.

“Is – is that one yours?”

You snap your head towards the voice to see the O’Driscoll standing there, a brush clutched in his hands. He looks nervous, like he’s constantly feeling something akin to your anxiety.

“She is,” you say. “Have you been, uh… taking care of her?”

“I have,” he says. “I hope you don’t take no offense.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why would…? Whatever. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He switches his attention over to Brown Jack, brushing over his thick neck. “What, um… what’s her name?”

“Who, Bronya?” You say. “I mean, uh… yeah. That’s her name. Bronya.”

This is going just great. Your anxiety is bouncing off his anxiety, gathering more nervous energy and ricocheting back to you. It’s like a game of tennis singles where both players are scared and it’s not entertaining at all and everyone loses and everything sucks.

“M-my name’s Kieran,” he blurts out. “Kieran Duffy.”

You nod politely and give your own name. He nods in response.

“Weren’t you, uh…” You point over to another area of camp. “Weren’t you tied up? Why’d they let you loose?”

“I told ‘em where I thought Colm was,” he says. “He wasn’t there. But I saved Arthur’s life, so they, y’know… they didn’t put a bullet through my brain.”

Oh, great, you think to yourself. This guy saved him in what was probably a real life-and-death scenario and I pointed a gun at Arthur over a verbal dispute? Christ, and who am I, using words like “verbal dispute…”

“Well.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I guess you earned not having a bullet in your brain.”

“I guess I did,” Kieran says.

Bronya nudges your hand with her nose and flares her nostrils, carefully playing with your fingers with her weird horse lips. It feels… kind of gross, for lack of a better term. But you’ve had baby spit-up on you, you’ve had to clean bathrooms at retail jobs, and you’ve been Hep-C positive before. “Gross” things don’t really bother you anymore.

“Bronya, stop that,” you chastise softly. You feel like you’re talking to a child. “You’re being weird.”

“You know she – she feels safe?” Kieran asks.

You turn your head and look at him. “Huh?”

“She’s…” He puts a finger close to his lips. “When horses are, um, gentle like that. It’s a sign that they feel safe.”

“Oh.” You turn back to Bronya, then pat the side of her neck. “Well, I stole her off a drunk, so… I think she’s just glad to be away from him. I think anything would be preferable to living with a drunk.”

Kieran gives a half-hearted laugh, then turns his attention back to Brown Jack. You glance over your shoulder at him. He has his back to you, but you’re sure Kieran still has his ears perked up just in case you were to rush him and attack him. He’s more like a scared horse than a scared man.

“Y’know, Kieran,” you say. “Thank you. For, uh… saving Arthur. I don’t really… I don’t really like him, but he’s a… cornerstone. A cornerstone for the gang. So… yeah. Thanks.”

It almost sounds like you’re unsure that the words coming out of your mouth are actually yours. Are you actually thanking someone for saving the life of a man that threatened yours? You are. And… maybe it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be. It’s 1899 – what’s some gun-pointing and some life-threatening between friends?

“I’m just tryna earn my keep,” Kieran says.

“You’re doing good,” you say. “I mean, you’re… you’re doing a whole lot more than I am. The horses are an important part of our lives. Do you, um… do you know a lot about them? Like, taking care of them, I mean.”

“Oh, I love horses.” He glances over at you, then quickly away. From the brief eye contact, you can see how his eyes lit up when he started talking about them. “I’ve been takin’ care of ‘em my whole life. It – it feels like my purpose, y’know? Like I was meant to take care of ‘em.”

“I understand,” you say. “Were you taking care of them while you were, uh… with the, um…”

You wave your hand in a vague motion. You want to say O’Driscolls, but you’re unsure if it would be impolite or breach some kind of outlaw code of conduct.

“Yeah, I took care of their horses,” Kieran says. “But I weren’t one of them, okay?”

“I get it.” You comb your fingers through Bronya’s mane absentmindedly. “You… were doing what you had to do to survive. Doesn’t mean you’re proud of it.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flit to yours, then away again. “Exactly.”

You look Kieran over. He still looks scared. Of you, of everyone else – you don’t know. But he’s doing what he has to to survive. You sincerely hope he doesn’t look too much into you in turn. (If he does, he’ll see that you understand that sentiment more than anyone else alive.)

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hymnoire · 9 months ago

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hug - muse a ( gaya ) embraces muse b ( minwoo )

Kaeleena's gentle touch dabs away the last traces of blood from Minwoo’s face, her voice still carrying that tender, motherly tone, even as a flicker of something dark stirs within her. She hums softly, her eyes never leaving his features, searching for any hint of the thoughts that might be swirling behind those cold, indifferent eyes of his. She saw something earlier, panic, fear... Does he remember? And .. has she managed to soothe that down? But before she can speak again, the door bursts open, the serene atmosphere turns into chaos. “Minwoo!”

Gaya’s voice slices through the air like a blade, sharp. The Black Swan is a storm, her eyes wide and wild on the scene before her. Without a second thought, Gaya rushes to Minwoo's side, her movements frantic, her hands already pulling him into a tight embrace. “What THE FUCK are you doing?” Gaya’s voice is almost a growl as she glares at Kaeleena, her arms wrapped protectively around Minwoo. Her eyes are blazing with a fury that makes Kaeleena take a step back, confusion washing over the white swan. “I’m not—” Kaeleena starts, but Gaya cuts her off, her voice even louder and filled with rage. “Stay away from him!” Gaya’s scream is raw, filled with a hatred Kaeleena has never seen her sister direct towards her before. One that slices through Kaeleena, leaving her voiceless, her hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t you dare touch him, don’t you dare harm him!” Keeps on yelling Gaya, menacing, threatening.

wordless prompts // still accepting.

Kaeleena feels as though she’s been struck. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, wrapping around her chest, hurt flickers across her face, but it’s quickly replaced by a flash of anger. “I’m not harming him!” Kaeleena’s voice cracks as she yells back, her eyes stinging. “I would never—” But Gaya doesn’t listen, her focus entirely on Minwoo, her hands cupping his face. Kaeleena’s heart twists at the sight, the deep bond between Gaya and Minwoo playing out in front of her, a bond that seems to exclude her entirely. She silently watches as Gaya pulls Minwoo to his feet, her arms still wrapped around him as though she can shield him from the world, from Kaeleena herself. The pain in Kaeleena’s chest sharpens, a dull ache that spreads through her like wildfire. She wants to scream, to beg Gaya to believe her, but the words get caught in her throat. “Gaya, please,” Kaeleena’s voice is barely a whisper now, her hands reaching out but stopping short of touching. The desperation in her voice is palpable, her eyes wide and pleading. “I was only trying to help.” In return, Gaya’s eyes are usually cold but they grew even colder with the years, mistrustful. “Help? Is that what you call it? I've seen you watch him like he's your little pet project. I know what you do to the animals in the forest you crazy psychopath, what now? You're going to do the same to him HUH? Cut him open?? See what's inside yeah? You think I don't know?!” Her voice is laced with venom, each word dripping with a contempt that cuts Kaeleena to the core. “Stay away from him, Kae. Just stay the fuck away for fuck sake.” And with that, Gaya turns, pulling Achilles with her as she heads for the door. Kaeleena’s hand drops to her side as she stands, frozen. Her chest tightens, a dull ache spreading through her, but she forces herself to remain steady, her hands clenched into fists and the room feels suddenly colder, emptier, empty. “I was only trying to help,” she whispers to the empty room, the words falling flat against the silence. She can’t understand why Gaya reacted the way she did, why she saw something sinister in what was only meant as care. The hurt threatens to surface, but Kaeleena forces it down, steeling herself against the emotion that threatens to overwhelm her. The white swan stands there for a long moment, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t quite grasp, emotions she’s not sure how to handle. The nursery, once a place of quiet care, now feels like a cage, the walls pressing in on her as if to mock her failed attempt at compassion. She won't cry. Not this time.

#꣼ 𝑔𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑘𝑎𝑛𝑔. / interactions.#Thank you for always sending love youuu<3 #Here I tried something new hehehe #The twins together in one thread #The continuation of the asks you sent the other day #Lore is loring #A wink to that scene in the future - on the hill where Kae finally gets Minwoo on her side to rise against Gaya :)#Nyehehe #♱ gayane elyssa lockwood — the black swan.

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soggy-fishsticks · 2 months ago

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guys ive been drawing so much lately I've been starting to actually hate it 🙁

#i LOVE drawing and always wanna do it #but lately I feel like I'm being forced to draw stuff 🥲 even if it's of my own doing #art class. the school project I just started. the animations I make. other stuff.#I feel like I'm constantly on time limits for them (and for some of them i AM 😭)#even if there's literally 0 reasons for me to rush myself i feel SO guilty if I don't #especially when I share the wips here and ppl leave rlly sweet comments like “this is awesome! I can't WAIT to see it done <3”#those comments make me SO happy #but once my motivation starts to wane after working on a wip for days I'm like “no I HAVE to continue I've basically promised everyone this #even if I didn't... actually promise anything to anyone.... 😬#when I asked for drawing requests a few days ago I was like “haha I'll probably only get one or two ☺️”#then they just kept on coming and coming and I'm like “FUCK. WE'RE REALLY IN IT NOW 😨 SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL WHAT HAVE I DONE”#and even though i KNOW I can take my sweet ass time on them #I'm still like “fuck. I NEED TO DO THIS NOW. I basically begged for drawing requests and it'd make them sad if I don't 😭😭”#if someone sent me a request and I havent drawn anything for you yet I'm sorry 😭😬#I know the logical answer to EVERYTHING would be “take a break doofus”#but the idea of *NOT* DRAWING OUTSIDE OF MY REQUIRED ART STUFF!!??? shiver me timbers #and now I'm just drawing. drawing. drawing. drawing. drawing. guilt. procrastination. more guilt.#I draw for SO MANY “pick how you do it” school projects outside of my art classes mostly bc its the easiest option LMAO #but then I get home after doing that all day and im like. fuck. there's more to draw. more to do. I don't wanna do it.#but I'm extremely bored and dont know what to do without it 🙁#you could probably write a poem out of that or something ngl LOL #anyways sorry for being a bummer. I'm gonna keep drawing for my school project after this bc I havent learned a thing 🥲 ciao ✌️#rant #rant post #vent post #artist vent #blog #*falls over dead*#I'll post like normal after this dw

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roguerolled · 1 year ago

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@adlishar liked for a starter

Nashira TOOK A STEP CLOSER to Lae'zel's area - her space - the human rogue's eyes wandered to the trophies the githyanki kept around before her eyes landed back on Lae'zel. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously , making sure there was at least a foot of distance where they stood apart. "Hey ... uh ... you're still not mad about the toothpick comment I made THE OTHER DAY , right?"

#adlishar #[ thread :: the job is never done ]#[ main verse :: rolling through thick and thin ]#// thanks for liking the starter~#// hope you don't mind if i kind of continued the ask i sent you #// the other day lol #queuing for a roll

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readwritealldayallnight · 6 months ago

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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

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kaiist · 29 days ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The movie marathon had stretched late into the night. You were sprawled on top of Xavier, your head resting on his chest as the TV cast flickering light across the darkened room. His steady heartbeat had almost lulled you to sleep when you felt his hand shift slightly beneath you.

Smack!

The unexpected slap to your ass made you jolt upright, nearly headbutting his chin in the process.

“Did you forget about earlier?” he asked.

You laughed, settling back against him. “I thought you might have fallen asleep and forgotten.”

“I didn’t,” he replied simply, his hand returning to your backside. This time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers kneading the spot he’d just slapped. The tender motion contrasted with the playful smack from moments before.

He pulled you closer, adjusting your position against him until you were both comfortable again. The credits rolled on the forgotten movie as his fingers continued their gentle massage, his calm breathing eventually synchronizing with yours as you both drifted toward sleep.

As the auto-play feature started the next film in the queue, his free hand reached for the remote, lowering the volume to a soft background murmur. His other hand never left your backside, alternating between gentle squeezes and soothing circular motions that made you melt further against him.

“Your heartbeat speeds up when I touch you like this,” he observed quietly, the subtle change in his tone betraying his satisfaction at the reaction.

You mumbled something incoherent against his chest, too comfortable to form proper words. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your weight to better accommodate his frame, his hand continuing its ministrations with practiced ease.

“We should sleep,” he suggested, though his actions contradicted his words as his fingers traced the curve where your ass met your thigh. “Or would you prefer to continue this instead?”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Midnight had come and gone, but sleep remained elusive. It’s another day of Zayne had just returned from his grueling shift at the hospital, his tie loosened and suit jacket discarded as he prepared for bed.

“I need at least six hours of sleep before my morning consultation,” he muttered, setting his alarm.

You poked his side, deliberately disrupting his bedtime routine. “But I’m not tired,” you whined playfully, stealing his pillow and hugging it to your chest.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Return my pillow.”

“Make me,” you challenged with a grin, scooting away.

In one swift motion, he reclaimed his pillow with one hand, while the other delivered a firm smack to your pajama-clad backside.

Smack!

“That’s for being bratty when you know I need rest.” The sting lingered pleasantly as he settled beside you, drawing you against his chest despite your earlier antics.

“Sleep,” he instructed, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’ll have time for your games tomorrow.”

His breathing soon steadied into the rhythm of sleep, while you remained awake just a little longer, savoring the unexpected gesture from him. Despite his stated exhaustion, his hand remained active, tracing absent patterns along your hip.

He murmured against your hair, seemingly not as close to sleep as you’d thought, “You just have to be difficult before going to sleep.”

You shifted to look at his face, finding his eyes still open. “Someone has to remind the great doctor he’s human,” you replied softly.

His fingers tightened slightly on your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promised, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I’ll show you exactly how human I can be. Now sleep before I administer more persuasive methods.”

The implied threat only made you smile as you finally closed your eyes, lulled by his steady heartbeat.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Turn around again,” Rafayel instructed, his eyes focused intently as you modeled the fifth dress he’d purchased for his upcoming exhibition. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as you obliged, turning slowly to give him the full view.

“Perfect,” he murmured, approaching to adjust the way the material draped across your shoulders. “This shade of green complements your skin tone exactly as I imagined.”

As you moved to reach for the next outfit, his hand descended without warning.

Smack!

The slap against your ass echoed in the spacious bedroom, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“Rafayel!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him.

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, cutie. You look really good with the dress on.”

Your initial surprise melted as he pulled you close, his hands wandering dangerously near the spot he’d just slapped.

“The red dress next,” he whispered against your ear, releasing you with obvious reluctance. “Though I’m starting to think my favorite masterpiece isn’t hanging in any gallery.”

He retreated to his chaise lounge, watching appreciatively as you reached for the next dress, the memory of his touch still warming your skin.

“Wait,” he called suddenly. “Do that again—the way you just moved. Hold that position.”

You froze mid-reach, throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he breathed, grabbing the sketchbook that never seemed to be far from his reach. “The light catches your profile exactly right from this angle.”

You maintained the pose, feeling the spot where he’d slapped you still tingling pleasantly as he sketched, occasionally looking up to capture another detail.

“You know,” he said between strokes of his pencil, “I think I’ve just found the centerpiece for my exhibition.”

“A drawing of my ass?” you asked incredulously.

His laughter filled the room. “No, cutie—though that would certainly draw crowds. I’m thinking of something much more...personal. Now, try on the red dress, but move slowly. Every line of you deserves proper attention.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Rain pattered against the windows of Sylus’s room as you lay on your stomach, engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite show on your tablet. Completely absorbed in the climactic scene, you didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.

Smack!

The sudden, sharp slap to your ass sent your tablet flying from your hands. You yelped in surprise, rolling over to find Sylus standing over you, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.

“You look focused, sweetie,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

You glared up at him. “I was watching the season finale!”

“And now you’re watching me instead,” he replied, retrieving your tablet from where it had landed on the carpet. He handed it back to you, his fingers lingering against yours. “A considerable upgrade, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond with the retort forming on your lips, he leaned down, his voice dropping to that low timbre that always made your pulse quicken. “Consider us even. For now.”

He then left you to return to your show—though your focus was thoroughly shattered.

You returned to your previous position. Just as the plot was reaching its climax again, the bed dipped beside you. He had returned, two glasses of wine in hand, offering one to you.

He settled next to you, positioning himself so he could see your tablet screen, his thigh pressing against yours as if nothing unusual had happened between you moments ago. His free hand casually draped across your lower back, dangerously close to where he’d landed the mischievous slap, his fingers casually tapping your ass.

“So,” he said, sipping his wine and gesturing toward your tablet with his glass, “who’s the traitor? The brother or the assistant?”

You blinked in surprise. “You’ve been watching this show?”

His half-smile returned as he made himself more comfortable beside you. “I have my reasons for staying informed about your interests. Now, shall we finish this finale together?”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Steam filled the kitchen as you stirred the pasta sauce, following Caleb’s recipe while he chopped vegetables nearby. The domesticity of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comfortable and familiar.

“Can you pass the oregano?” you asked, gesturing toward the spice rack.

“Sure thing,” he replied, stepping behind you to reach for the herb.

As his hand extended past you toward the rack, his other hand made its move.

Smack!

The slap to your backside was anything but gentle, causing you to drop the wooden spoon into the sauce. Before you could react, he dissolved into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Your face!” he managed between chuckles, handing you the oregano as promised. “I’ve been waiting all day for the perfect moment.”

“Caleb! You—” You shook your head as you accepted the spice—and the fate of your ass. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his chopping board. “Dinner might be worth the wait, if you don’t let that sauce burn.”

You turned back to the stove as his laughter continued to fill the warm kitchen.

His laughter gradually subsided, but the atmosphere remained light as you both continued preparing dinner. Every time he passed behind you to reach for another ingredient or utensil, you tensed slightly in anticipation, unsure if another playful slap might be coming.

“Relax,” he teased, noticing your reaction. “I already got my revenge. Unless...” he paused dramatically, “you’re hoping for an encore?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress your smile. “Just focus on those vegetables before I decide it’s my turn for revenge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with an exaggerated salute, his grin never faltering. He resumed his chopping, occasionally humming a cheerful tune that matched his buoyant mood.

Smack!

“Just for fun, Pipsqueak,” he grinned unapologetically.

Okay… so… I kinda accidentally deleted the whole page of my Google Docs when I reached Sylus’s part, and I was just sitting there, like—😀💔 So, I had to write everything all over again in a bad mood 😭 I hope you still enjoy reading! ಡ⁠͜⁠⁠ʖ⁠⁠ಡ

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phantomsies · 6 months ago

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𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 • 𝖆.𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

your biggest fan soon becomes your biggest obsession….

black onlyfans creator!reader (fem descriptions), nerdy!armin, public sex/public masturbation, squirting, mentions of toys, exhibitionism, throatfucking, cumshot

📝: I wanted to go a completely different direction with this but a) it’s no longer kinktober and it would’ve much better suited that and b) nerd!armin just scratches an itch in my brain I can’t quite put my finger on. So enjoy! 🫶🏾 (also, I AM SO SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LONG 😭😭 I don’t intend on headcanons being this length but I can’t shut the fuck up.)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nerd!armin had been a dutiful subscriber of (y/n) (l/n)’s or as the world knew you, (performer name) for quite some time. He’d faithfully watched your content, never missing an upload to your sites and shamelessly scrolling your Twitter.

nerd!armin preferred your videos over others because they were so unique. Always willing to push the envelope by shooting in unconventional spaces; your car, public bathrooms and even dressing rooms..a polar opposite to his shy, bashful nature. In a way, he was jealous but also aroused..

from your long acrylics, fluffy lashes, colorful hair that changed from video to video and of course, the beautiful, dark brown complexion that radiated underneath the sun or ring lights, nerd!armin was obsessed.

nerd!armin would lie in bed after a long study session, classes or even a hard day at work..mindlessly stroking his cock in one hand as he held his phone in the other, eyes glued to the screen whilst you performed those lewd acts.

shoving those dildos in and out of your tight cunt, those pretty pink walls and plump brown lips sucking on that silicone toy..stretching yourself open all for his pleasure. A jeweled butt plug shoved into your ass and cream oozing down onto that gorgeous skin and the leather of your seats as you worked yourself into countless orgasms..mewling and begging for the would be viewer to keep fucking you..

“Fuck, I’m about to come, daddy..you’re gonna make me squirt.” Crying out as nerd!armin jerked himself even faster..subconsciously responding back without a single other person being in the room. ”Squirt for me, baby. Come..” Whimpering before exploding with a load of his own..

despite only being an intern, nerd!armin was well off from his freelancing tech work and although it didn’t leave him much room for socializing, he would tip you amicably on all the new content, as well as leave kind, respectful, encouraging words. It wasn’t something you saw often in this field.

it also didn’t take nerd!armin long to realize that you never featured a partner in any of your content like some girls eventually did. Only the various assortment of toys gifted to you by supporters. Which only further fed his delusions when you made a mess and glared into the camera, batting those doe brown eyes before saying “..look at what you made me do..that big dick feels so good..”

nerd!armin, who had only been with one woman sexually in his entire life and didn’t date often, could only dream of being with a girl like you.

so it came as no surprise when you announced that you would be opening a contest to film with one of your subscribers for the first time, nerd!armin leaped at the chance! The thought of getting to fuck the woman he’d hopelessly fawned over excited him.

nerd!armin nearly fainted when he got a DM on OnlyFans one day to see that he had won, asking when he’d like to arrange the meetup.

nerd!armin was understandably nervous on the day you two came face to face..but felt as ease when you continuously reassured him and even made sure that both of you had been tested, as well as protection.

“You’re so cute..it’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for supporting me..” your gentle voice sent a shockwave of butterflies soaring through nerd!armin’s stomach as you wrapped him in a tight hug…and of course, a tightening in his pants upon laying eyes on his favorite creator. But that was merely the beginning.

nerd!armin found himself blushing when you slowly traced circles all over his skin, examining the single tattoo on his forearm and complimenting the smell of his cologne as the two of you sat alone in the bedroom of the designated filming space of your spacious home. Impressed by the bookshelves full of old literature he passed on the way in.

“Mmmm..you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “…I guess you could say that.” “Well don’t be, I’m going to make sure we have a good time, I promise..”

nerd!armin had no idea just how true you were to your word when less than ten minutes after the camera came on, you were on your knees, tongue extended and a wide smile on your face as he towered over you.

nerd!armin could hardly contain himself when eventually, those glossy brims were now encompassed around his cock. Slurping noises emanating around the room, along with his adorable cries…sloppy drool and gag spit spilling from that wet mouth and onto the pulsating head, shaft and those swollen balls. Disregarding the fact that your pretty face had become a disheveled mess.

“Oh my God…that feels so good, beautiful. Your mouth feels fucking amazing..” “You wanna come for me, baby?” “..yes! Drain me, please..” pathetically pleading whilst relentlessly fucking your throat.

nerd!armin unabashedly spent days, practicing his stroke on a translucent flesh light, feeding it deep thrusts and stuffing it with an ungodly amount of cum, examining your videos like study material..in hopes of gaining some stamina against you.

but nothing could prepare nerd!armin for the sheer sensation that being inside of you brought upon him.. however, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard..especially when he’d gently tug your head down and force you to watch as he glided into that narrow hole.. a move he’d learn from his tapes.

“It’s so big..damn..” “I told you..” giggling to yourselves as your gazes met and he’d begin to move.

nerd!armin almost felt compelled to believe that you were faking your moans like other pornstars so often did…but that misconception was cleared up when your eyes began to trail back, legs began to tremble and a slight bulge formed at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Yes, you stretching the fuck out of this pussy, baby..right there!..” “Am-am I doing a good job?” “You fucking me so good, please don’t stop.”

nerd!armin nearly lost all composure when you all but pushed him away, only to shower him in a stream of your juices. Only increasing as he tapped that swollen tip against your quivering folds.

nerd!armin didn’t last more than five minutes after that powerful climax and began dry heaving as his own neared. Ushering you back to your knees to paint those pretty features and tits with his load.

nerd!armin was convinced that once the cameras shut off, you’d put him out for nutting too quickly. Surely a woman of your caliber would never deal with that again. But yet again, he was proven wrong when you smiled up at him, flicking your tongue across your lips before posing a question. “So..where should we should film next time? We gotta do this more often..”

nerd!armin had found himself the newest and sole object of (creator’s name) affection!

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ilikeevilblondes · 2 months ago

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Wide Open

18+ MDNI!

Summary: After a long day of work, Joel expects nothing more from the evening than getting some shut-eye. Fate has other plans, however, because the daughter of the family next door forgot to close her blinds again and is putting on quite the show.

TL;DR: Joel gets off watching you get off.

W.C: ~2.8k

Warnings: pervyneighbour!joel x reader, he's a tiny bit of a creep, accidental voyeurism (kind of…), mutual masturbation, dildo usage, lowkey a tiny breeding kink, implied age gap as per ushe (late-40s, early-20s), (no outbreak!)

Note: this is your daily reminder to close your blinds, y'all. unless joel miller is your neighbour. then maybe don't, and fuck with him.

Part One | Part Two

Joel always said he’d retire ‘soon’.

Though as the years flew by, ‘soon’ remained ambiguously distant.

Presently, he had just come home from an unnecessarily hard day at work where some Einstein had misread the blueprint and cut every single piece of lumber half an inch too short.

Joel was pushing fifty now. If asked toward his earlier adulthood, he’d have claimed that fifty-years-old balanced right on the precipice of retirement. And by sixty, he’d be golfing daily, attempting to read something other than the backs of DVDs, and not worrying about stupid shit like redoing an entire section of framing because of Romero’s shitty-fucking-eyesight.

“Fuckin’ Romero,” Joel mumbled to himself as he locked the door behind him and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter.

With heavy footsteps, he ambled toward the fridge, praying he had the foresight the night before to leave a can or two of Modelo for his future self.

The unwelcoming sterile glare of the fridge light greeted him as he yanked open the door. Worse, it greeted him with its contents, or lack thereof.

No Modelo.

Not even a lone, pitiful can of Keystone Light that Joel may have bought in desperation as a crappy substitute for literally any other beer.

Making a mental note to pick up a six-pack sometime tomorrow and, further down the line to maybe cut down on the beer, Joel trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.

His bedframe whined with a metallic creak as he sat on the edge, rubbing his hands down his face and feeling the scrape of his overgrown stubble on his worn palms.

Joel was more than ready to call it a night, he thought, as he leaned over to draw the curtains.

But he froze upon seeing you.

The two-story craftsman next door, formerly a ‘fixer-upper’, had been home to you and your parents ever since you moved in from the city a year ago. Your parents were mild-mannered neighbours who sent the street Christmas cards and kept the porch light on and took part in the neighbourhood watch patrol.

And you? You never made your bed, always had a book in your hands before sleeping, and more importantly, had a very noticeable habit of neglecting to close the blinds of your bedroom window.

Joel knew this, of course, because the bedroom of the two-story craftsman facing his house just so happened to belong to you.

“Shit,” Joel heaved a heavy sigh, still clutching the drawstring with notable tenseness.

Your cream-coloured blinds were slanted completely horizontally, allowing a direct view into your bedroom. And Joel found himself helplessly entranced, watching the back of your silhouette pull your shirt over your head and fling it across the room.

Fuck, you were very possibly wearing his favourite bra. The lacey ones that pushed your tits up real nice–

No. No, Joel, didn’t have a favourite bra of yours. What kind of neighbour would keep track of the family next door’s daughter’s bras?

You turned around and, to his delight, confirmed that you were wearing the exact pair.

Him, evidently.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back, running a hand through his greying hair and letting out a deep exhale.

You continued undressing, seemingly oblivious to the state of your blinds and the lack of privacy that state entailed. And further, oblivious of the old man next door watching intently as you unzipped your jeans and stepped out of them.

A thong. You had chosen to wear a thong that day. Because, of course, you had.

Bright red and stringy and covering virtually nothing, which left no part of your lower half to the imagination and Joel was able to see most of your perfect fucking pussy from the house over—

“The fuck am I doing?” Joel mumbled to himself and decidedly tore himself away from his window.

What was he doing?

It wasn’t like you were strangers. He knew you. He came over to barbecues hosted in your back garden, fixed the leak in your kitchen sink when your dad had called, and watched the Superbowl in your living room that one year.

And, as much as he may have indulged in watching you before, he had never lingered as much as just did. Usually, he’d be sated with a few seconds of your half-dressed state, and would only later conjure up that image in the shower to fuck his fist to.

The tightness in his pants seemed to disagree with that plan, and Joel was overcome with an overwhelming need to settle his problem down south immediately.

Joel turned back to his window, determined to draw the curtains shut once and for all and then quickly jerk off to the mere thought of you (not that that was a noble action in and of itself), when he, for the second time that evening, froze at the sight of you.

Your bedroom was furnished in a way that had your bed facing your window. So, your wonderfully respectful neighbour could easily have direct views of you lying on your bed chatting on your phone, or reading, or spread out and running your fingers through your slick folds.

If Joel thought he was hard before, he was definitely, painfully, rock-hard now.

As careless as you may have been in the past, you have never forgotten to close your blinds to this degree before.

And, owing to that logic, you would never slip up like this again.

So, one would be incredibly stupid to not take advantage of this rare opportunity.

“Fuck it,” Joel inhaled sharply.

He scrambled to undo his belt and unzip his jeans and pull them down just enough to tug his raging erection out of his briefs, all while desperately keeping his gaze set on you.

Bracing one hand against the wall, he let the other wrap around his cock, fisting it leisurely as he watched you take open-mouthed breaths while your fingers traced up your seam to rub at your clit, your thong haphazardly pushed to the side.

You looked so pretty like that; lying on your bed and touching yourself as if you had pent-up emotions of need you desperately ached to satisfy.

You went slowly, dragging your fingers down along your wet cunt and against your throbbing clit, likely savouring the intensity.

Joel matched your pace, his fist sliding in a lazy tempo around his aching member.

Fuck, he’d do anything to grind his cock against your pussy; feel it shiver and clench around nothing and coat his length with your seeping slick. He’d bet all his money he could make you come without even putting it inside, too. Needy fucking slut.

And then you dipped a finger inside.

Then another.

God, with the way you seemed to be shaking around two of your own slender fingers, Joel was sure you’d be a mess riding his.

Fuck, he’d even give you a third just to see you lose your fucking mind.

Maybe you’d beg him to stop, crying prettily and gasping in pitchy breaths that you just couldn’t take any more. But Joel believed you could, and he’d tell you so as he slipped his index finger to join the other two, feeling you clench around them—

Joel’s dick twitched in his hand and it was all he could do not to come early and let the show go to waste. Instead, he adopted a faster tempo, trying his damnedest to follow yours, however erratic it was.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan and you tossed your head back against your pillows as your fingers sped up in their ministrations.

Shit, you probably sounded real fuckin’ sweet, all overwhelmed with pleasure.

Again, your mouth parted, letting out a syllable of something Joel couldn’t hear, your tongue flicking out momentarily as you sounded it out.

Maybe it was Joel’s twisted imagination, but he was somewhat sure you had just moaned his name.

You probably didn’t, but it was a nice fucking dream, anyway.

He’d do just about anything to hear his name on your lips, whispered like a prayer or screamed like a plea as he relentlessly pounded into your tight fucking pussy. And, if given the opportunity, he’d fuck you so hard, a slurred babble of name would be the only thing you could say.

A familiar warmth began to pool at the pit of his stomach and his cock tensed even more.

Fuck, he was close.

And, he assumed you were, too, owing to the sheen of sweat on your body glistening under your lamp and the giant breaths you were heaving in.

“C’mon, babygirl.” He encouraged aloud despite being a good distance out of earshot, his voice coming out raspy and low. “Come for me,”

He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment your eyes fluttered shut and your hand stilled so he could close his eyes and imagine fucking his load into your spent cunt.

But no such series of events occurred.

Unexpectedly, however, you pulled your fingers out and flopped over on your stomach to reach for the bottom drawer of your bedside table.

What… the fuck?

Did you come already? Without Joel noticing? Shit, he definitely was too cocky in his familiarity with the female body if he didn’t clock your orgasm.

“Goddamnit.” Joel sighed, his hand coming to a complete stop.

Maybe it was better this way.

Maybe Joel could still salvage what little morality he retained and beg for forgiveness from the higher powers above—

And no, actually, he couldn’t because, being the dirty fucking whore you were, you pulled out what he recognised to be a dildo from your nightstand.

You stopped fingering yourself to get a dildo from your nightstand.

“Filthy girl,” Joel tutted through a depraved smile, watching with hazy, lust-flooded eyes as you sat back down, spat directly on the tip of the sex toy, and positioned it in front of your weeping pussy.

Who knew that the sweet girl next door, the one who always offered to help carry groceries or to water his plants while he was away, kept a thick fucking dildo near her bed.

Not just any dildo, either, Joel realised.

It must have been his lucky fucking day, because, upon squinting at the unholy sight, Joel discerned that the shade of which the toy was painted almost exactly matched the rich tan of his skin tone.

In other words, it was now going to be much easier to imagine himself fucking you when a close replica of his cock was pistoning in and out of your pretty cunt.

“You gonna put it in, sweetheart?” Joel sighed, his grip tightening around his length as he watched your dawdling.

Fuck, he was going to get humanity’s worst case of blue balls if you stretched this out any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Jus’ put it in. ‘S not that hard,” He all but whined.

He, a man pushing fifty, basically whined. Good lord, what kind of fucking temptress were you?

Thankfully, it seemed as though you heard his words, because right after, you had slid the first few inches inside your walls, gasping at its girth.

“Yeah, there you go.” Joel sucked in a sharp inhale as he thrust up into his fist. “That all? Oh, babygirl, you can give yourself more.”

As if reading his mind, you slowly began feeding yourself the rest of the tanned dildo, throwing your head backwards and chanting that syllable that was so dangerously close to Joel’s name.

For the purpose of that night, Joel took the liberty of imagining it was, in fact, his own name as he fucked up fully into his fist.

When you finally took the toy to the hilt, its fake carved balls pressing against your ass, you started moving it in and out of your drenched seam at a steady pace.

Joel let out a string of incoherent curses under his breath, which quickly turned into strained groans as he mirrored your rhythm, practically feeling the way your pretty pussy clenched around that fake dick.

Your chest was expanding and contracting frantically now and you were no doubt releasing breathy moans from the sensation of fucking yourself with those eight generous inches.

Joel wished he was in that room with you to give you the same and then some.

He’d kiss his way down to your tits and take a nipple into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of your skin as he bent you in half and made you see stars.

He wouldn’t even have cared too much if you passed out, as long as, when you woke up, he was still driving into you and kissing your cervix with each thrust, sending you barrelling into orgasm after unbound orgasm.

He’d hold out as long as it took to get you completely sated, and even a little more after. Maybe he’d even pop a certain little blue pill just to watch himself fuck his come deep inside you again and again after rounds of laborious exertion.

Joel’s dick twitched again at the mere thought.

And again, upon seeing the sight of you pulling the soaking dildo out of your tight hole and manoeuvering yourself to hover above the thing like you were about to sit on it.

Christ alive. You were going to ride your dildo.

“Shit,” Joel breathed, his eyes widening slightly. God, this would be a treat to watch.

Worrying your teeth on your lower lip, you began to slowly sink down on the toy, a silent scream leaving your parted lips as you steadily took it all the way to the fucking hilt.

Joel, he imagined you to have mewled. Joel, you’re so fucking big.

“‘S okay, sweetie, you’re doin’ real well.” Joel sighed, watching you adjust to the size. “Brave girl, doin’ so good. Now, go on and ride that cock. C’mon, baby.”

And so you did.

Bouncing up and down on the toy, your mouth opening in a steady stream of what seemed to be expletives, and your tits springing from your efforts.

Fuck, in his forty-something years of life, Joel had never seen such a pretty sight.

And, there you were, repeating that mystery syllable like your life depended on it.

Joel, Joel, Joel, he envisioned you whimpering.

You were close again. He was sure of it. If it wasn’t already painstakingly obvious from the way you were eagerly swiping at your swollen clit.

And so, he finally gave in and began fucking up into his fist—his hips intensely chasing his hand—at the ferocity at which he dreamed to ram inside you, dragging against your velvety walls and feeling as you shivered uncontrollably around him.

He was close, too. Very fucking close.

“Come for me, sweet thing. C’mon. Be a good … fuck, be a good slut for me and come around that cock.” Joel breathed, eyes glued to the display of you feverishly riding the toy.

Then, suddenly, your mouth opened in a long scream as you nearly went cross-eyed.

Shortly after, your face scrunched up in pleasure and your body fell still on the dildo, the only movements being small rolls of your hips against the rubber length as your breathing began to even.

You came.

Fucking finally.

Joel shut his eyes and pictured driving into your throbbing, dripping cunt, hearing your pitchy whines as he shushed you with little follow-through.

Gonna come inside, he’d tell you in between heavy, strained breaths. To which, you’d frantically alert him of the fact that you weren’t on the pill and the two of you had chosen to forgo the assistance of a condom.

But Joel’d come inside you anyway. Mark up his pretty girl with pearly ropes of his come. And he’d keep you filled up as long as he fucking could.

Before he knew it, Joel was coming hard and fast into his fist, wildly jerking in and out of his grip as he rode out his high.

It took a few more moments for him to slow down, and a good number more for him to stop fully.

“Fucking hell,” Joel sighed as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, reaching over to a nearby table and plucking a few pieces of tissue out of its box to clean himself up with.

Satisfied, he crumpled up the tissues, tossed them into a nearby trashcan and gently tucked himself back in.

His head hung low as he caught his breath and tried not to linger on the dubious ethics of what had just transpired.

While that had possibly been the best jerk in his life, it was undoubtedly very non-consensual. At least, on your side.

After all, you hadn’t explicitly given him permission to fuck his fist to the sight of you doing… whatever fucking marathon that was.

At least, he didn’t think you did.

Until, bing!

Joel angled his head to catch sight of his phone lighting up with a recent notification.

Unsure of who could be texting him at that hour, Joel took it in his hands and unlocked it with a quick swipe of his passcode.

It was a message from you.

You: you gonna keep jerking off across the street or are you gonna come over?

Joel’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

So, you had seen him. Possibly even orchestrated the whole ordeal; neglecting to close your blinds on purpose, wearing that bra, and, well, fucking yourself right by your window.

Shit. Well, he couldn’t just come over and fuck you silly … could he?

Then, another text came.

You: home alone.

Joel never put on his shoes faster.

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