#bc I got all warm and calm and happy

[stretchedoutonthegrass]

Happy Monday, who wants to be in love with me?

[mainfaggot]

I was so anxious today even tho i was on top of my self care slash mental well being basics check-list... I suspect it was the caffeine on top of already worsening anxious Symptoms

[afishylife]

thinkin about ocs (OIFIL) and ruining my own life with it u_u

[shrimpybbq]

rafe, his fiancée and their family in the 18 month gap between s3 and s4

“What do you think about another baby?”

rafe is ecstatic about the prospect of another kid, and he shows it. he’s constantly spoiling his girl, always doting on her and helping her around the house. he makes sure to hire staff around tannyhill and ensure she doesn’t have to stress, making sure to spend time each night with his family despite the chaos of his day. rafe knows her first pregnancy wasn’t the best (bc of him) and he wants to give her a whole new experience

high school gf was worried about telling him she was pregnant again, knowing how badly it all went the first time. she knew rafe had grown to love his son and his family, but she was still apprehensive about his reaction, knowing he was in a stressful period of life rn. she didn’t have anything to worry about however, seeing straight away how different rafe was with her now. he loved being a father and was so keen to have another baby, especially now everything is his, and he can provide for his family the way he wants

baby no. 2 was a girl, just as rafe wanted. he already has little charlie, who is a carbon copy of himself, but he wants a little girl who looks just like her mother. rafe already loved to stare at his fiancée’s face, but imagining her looking after a mini version of herself - rafe thinks he might die.

as his fiancée and mother of his child, high school gf is living good. rafe is struggling with his father’s death, but mostly, they’re happy - really, really happy. charlie is starting to speak, and he is so excited to have a baby sister

oh you know the jokes are going around the OBX about how rafe just can’t keep it in his pants (but who could blame him when his girl is just so hot)

rafe doing the absolute most to have his fiancée relaxed and resting at all times - he loves to take her out on the boat and let her lay in the warm sun, especially because she gets so clingy when she’s sleepy and calm

rafe who begins to secretly hunt for a new house for the family to move into, wanting a new space just for themselves. tannyhill had too many bad vibes and rafe wants to start fresh

the family are often seen out and about the island with little charlie either toddling in front of his parents, or being swung in between their outstretched arms

charlie becoming known by those on the island as a cheeky little boy, always pulling faces and trying to play with everyone

rafe watching his girl get closer and closer to her due date and growing more and more anxious - he was so coked up the first time that he never really worried, but now he is always hovering and checking in on their baby

rafe is there for this delivery!! he's 100% holding his fiancée’s hand and brushing her sweaty hair out of her face, whispering "you can do this, baby, you've got this"

the nurses let him cut the cord once his daughter is born and he is definitely crying and trying to subtly wipe away his tears

the whole family spending the next few weeks hiding in their new house enjoying their first moments with their new little girl

rafe picks her name and decides to call her emmeline, emmy for short

if any family ever gave off rich vibes, it's the cameron's. rafe has his kids dressed to the nines, nice cars in the driveway of his new house and his fiancée wearing the nicest jewellery

all the women on kildare being so jealous once they see sexy muscular rafe cameron fussing over a tiny little baby, emmy clutched tightly in his arms as his fiancée holds charlie's hand

rafe would never admit it, but he loves the looks he gets when he walks around his little girl - he might be loyal but he still likes to be reminded he's hot sorry not sorry

wedding time!!!!

i think their wedding is actually very casual, maybe even a holiday elopement

rafe doesn't really like the people in the obx that much and so when his girl suggested getting married somewhere quiet, just the two of them, he was like "mmm, why not?"

the pair get married on a private beach in hawaii, rafe in a loose white shirt and a pair of linen trousers, his girl in a silky dress (this is so serious to me)

they hire a photographer and definitely put a big wedding pic on their hallway wall

everyone in the obx knew it was coming (bc they were engaged) but people are still a little shocked that the high school couple actually got married?

i see them settling into a nice routine once back, really just wifey looking after their little family, rafe running cameron development and the family spending all their time together happily

idk i'm just very passionate about the concept of rafe being loved and giving love in return bc it's clear he's capable of it, he just needs to feel safe and nurtured

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

[inosukijiro]

𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. btw thank you so much for all the love and support on my last two posts. literally you all are so incredibly sweet !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i just graduated college so i might have a bit more time to write but no promises!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

━ 𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩. im just going though and adding a synopsis and fixing my titles. og title: falling for you.

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

thank you for reading !! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

[imraespace]

―UNWANTED SURPRISE

SYNOPSIS: you've known your boyfriend for quite some time and he's made it quite clear that he hate surprises, but you just can't do it this year.

note: i was seraching up abt kaiser bc i dont really write for him and his ideal partner is a loving one so!! HE GETS A LOVING PARTNER.

genre: fluff, comfort heheh

Your alarm went off.

A grumble and groan left your mouth as you sluggishly moved to grab your phone. Once your finger finally found it, the phone, now in your hand became silent as your squint at your screen.

4:30 AM

You turned off your phone, letting it rest on your chest as your head turned to face the male beside you, resting soundly.

For once, he had a calm expression on his face. His chest rises with every soft snores that leaves his lips. As a habit, your fingers made it's way up to his face, caressing his cheeks as your attention focused on him.

But, your have something planned before hand. With one last caress, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead and carefully, made your escape out of the bed.

Quietly, you made it out of the bedroom and into the living room.

.

.

Stretching off the drowsy feeling, You grabbed his gift, well one of it. The other one isn't that far, you just gave it to one of your close friend just to make it easier. Said friend made a promise to drop it off!

So right now, you're focusing on breakfast! It's a really simple honestly, bacon, eggs and toast but with the toast, you cut off the sides, using it to make bread crust rusk. The sugary kind.

The smell that took over the kitchen made you hungry, but you refuse to eat anything without him here. As time slowly passed, breakfast was done and just on time, your doorbell rang!

Excitedly, you made it to the door and every bounce in your actions, you opened the door and was greeted with the gift. The dog pounced on you, licking at your face.

You hugged it closely, as your friend bid you goodbye.

The dog in your hand is a familiar one to both you and Michael. Every morning, leaving the house a certain dog always greets you both. Micheal took a liking to the dog so in your opinion, it was the perfect gift for him.

Making it back into the living room, you let the dog down as it began running around, making his surroundings familiar. You sighed, yet a smile on your face as your eyes followed the dog.

Now, the second gift makes sense. It was dog toys and dog food. You sat on the floor, watching the dog run away. Your cheeks hurt from smiling as your watch him, finally it calmed down and run up to you.

Your hand rested ontop of his head, paws on your chest.

Though, he started barking, filling the silence which wasn't a problem but you have a sleeping person inside..

"SHH or something.."

In response all you got was more noise..

A thought came to mind, the toys. You got the bag but the dog grabbed it out your hand and all the toys fell out.

"Oh.." You muttered as the dog ran to bite the closest toy, which was a squeaky one. Therefore more noise!

In the end you just let the dog do whatever, but you forbid it to fo near the tree. Decoration wise, it made you feel more close to the holiday. The memories of planning and decorating with him made your cheeks warm.

Though, footsteps broke you out of your daydream as a question was asked.

"What's happening?"

Your eyes made it's way onto the sleepy male who's trying to make sense of the random noises.

The dog, dropping the toy, and looked in the direction of a familiar voice. He barked and ran up to Michael.

"What.. Why is the dog here?" Micheal asked, watching as the dog gripped on his pj pants.

In response, you stared up at him, smile on your face as a hint of what you've been up to. His face dropped a bit, it didn't bother you one bit.

He stared down at the dog, of course he's happy that the stray dog he meets every morning was healthy and loved in his own home but.. how is he supposed to react?

He slowly made his way on the couch infront of you and just sat down, shoving his face in his palms. It was quiet, minus the occasional barks from the dog that doesn't know what's happening, waiting for Michael to interact with him.

You got up from the floor and made your way right beside him. You plopped yourself right next to him and simply rested your hand on his back, gently rubbing his back.

The silence spoke for itself, but you took it upon yourself to fill it.

"I know you hate surprises but I think you deserve a gift."

.

.

You climbed up on tye couch, got behind him and gave him a back hug, resting your cheek in his hair.

"Because I love you, happy birthday.. and merry Christmas."

IMRAESPACE || MASTERLIST

[reidmania]

azure hypophrenia | s.reid

summary; you are disappointed when what you assumed was seasonal depression doesn't go away when the days get longer, and the sun gets warmer, spencer is the first to remind you to give it time.

warnings; fem reader, isolation, mentions being summer, seasonal depression, reader jumps to conclusions, established relationships, angst, and fluff, hurt x comfort, reader is an avoidant girly, she is confused why she doesn't feel better, its sad, they go to the beach, mentions nudity but not sexual.

an; this is NOT self indulgent because i went to the beach today, and i feel so happy now the weathers getting warmer but i do need spencer to remind me to put sunscreen on bc i am burnt as fuck. 2k words!!

Maybe it was the darkness of your living room, contrasting the warmth outside that worried Spencer. It could’ve been the way the air conditioning was on, and you were stripped of your clothes to fight off the warmth of the day yet you were buried under a thick blanket. It was most likely the fact he had come over and found you awake, yet maybe the quietest he had ever seen you, it had been two hours of him sitting next to you, stroking his fingers through your hair in pure silence.

The only words that had been spoken seemed like forever ago, when he first got there and his ‘Are you okay?’ came out concerned and calm. It was maybe the first voice you had heard in what felt like days, besides the distant construction workers yelling outside your window, but that was easy enough to block out. When you didn’t reply, Spencer didn’t ask again. He knew you, your lack of answer was an answer in itself, so instead, he mumbled a soft, ‘do you want to talk about it’ you shook your head. He accepted that, he accepted the silence.

Even if you did want to talk about it, there wasn’t a lot to say, you couldn’t articulate what was wrong to yourself, it didn’t make sense. You had been waiting all year for summer, because things were good in summer. The sun was brighter, the days were longer, beaches were full of families and friends and everyone was happier, so why weren’t you? You were able to accept that life was particularly more difficult to get through in the colder months, when you had an excuse to curl up and hide away from the world under the covers. Now, you just looked stupid. You felt stupid.

You had been waiting all year for the feeling to go away, and it just didn’t.

You were disappointed, Maybe. Maybe confused, and just sad.

Maybe it all felt worse because you were expecting to feel better, you were expecting the sun on your face to bring you a warmth that spread throughout your entire body, instead it only seemed to burn against coldness in your chest, yet never quite take it away.

What you assumed to be, what had always seemed to be seasonal depression, had turned into year round depression, and you were tired of it. 

“Spencer” You cringed at the rasp in your voice from the lack of talking, you cringe at the way his hand stutters its movement in your hair as he shuffled to sit closer, you weren’t sure what he had been doing for hours, there was nothing playing on the tv, the room had been silent since before he was over, you didn’t invite him either, he just knew (probably from the fact you hadn’t replied to his calls) Maybe he had been mumbling facts your brain failed to comprehend, or listen to, maybe he just accepted the silence because it was what you wanted.

Your head tilts up to meet his eyes, they’re warm as they look at you, the colours swimming around them highlighted through the slight sunbeam that had managed to slip its way through the crack in your blinds. They held every ounce of warmth you ached to feel. He didn’t say anything as his hand continued brushing through your hair, away from your forehead. If he didn’t know better he would’ve encouraged you to take the blanket off because you were sweating.

“I want to watch the sunset.” You mumbled, quietly. You didn’t know if it was because you figured maybe something so beautiful might help contrast the ugliness you felt, not physically, in your soul. You needed a reminder that the world wasn’t as ugly as your mind made it out to be. You would’ve taken a liking to seeing a  flower field, a night sky full of stars, a walk full of greenery, anything really, but you knew sunset was approaching.

His hand trailed from your hand to your jaw, finger brushing softly against your cheek as his eyes searched yours, maybe looking for any indication of what was wrong, if he found it, he didn’t say anything about it. “We can go to the beach.” He offered, his voice was gentle, careful. You figured he wanted to get you out of the room you had cooped yourself up in for god knows how long, and he knew you loved the beach. Any other time, any other state of mind, you would jump at the opportunity. 

Spencer hated the beach, he thought it was one of the worst places to spend a day. They were too busy, too noisy, kids screamed, sand got everywhere, the salt water ruined his hair. You knew all of this, you also knew he knew, you loved the beach.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to swim.” You mumbled. That seemed like effort you didn’t have. 

He hummed, nodding softly as his fingers brushed over your cheek again, his head leant down to place his lips against your hair, maybe if you were any one else he would’ve cringed doing so because of the fact your hair was laced with sweat you couldn’t acknowledge. “You don’t have to swim. We don’t have to go near the water. Just think it’ll be pretty down there.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled away from your hair.

You thought it over, “Okay.” You whispered.

It took another ten minutes for you to get out of bed, Spencer didn’t mind, he waited, finding you clothes. Shorts and a tank top, because your skin was boiling hot, and the sun outside would make it no different. You were already sweating, he knew you would’ve preferred to stay curled up in a big hoodie, or in just your underwear, but he wasn’t going to risk you getting heat stroke just because your mind was too busy focusing on your mental state to adjust to how you physically felt It was silent after your agreement, until he asked you to put sunscreen on.

‘The sun is setting’ you mumbled in an argument. He shook his head before he found it in your bathroom draw. He spent the next few minutes rubbing it over your arms and shoulders as he mumbled about how the UV was still high, and you would burn and be in pain, that the sunsetting didn’t mean it wasn’t still hot enough for you to get sunburnt. You didn’t argue further purely because it was useless.

The beach was a twenty two minute drive. He let you connect to bluetooth in his car. Everything you played was quiet, mostly instrumental versions of your favourite songs because you didn’t want to hear talking. Your gaze stayed fixated out the window, Spencer’s hand stayed interlocked with yours as he drove, resting against your thigh.

By the time you got to the beach, the sun was already filled with different hues of golden colours. The yellow was distant in the sky as the orange and pinks took over, lining the horizon, sinking their way back into the depths of space, each colour more rich and beautiful than the last, the clouds were a pretty pink colour, the last glimmer off the azure sea resembled the look of a thousand little diamonds dancing along blue silk, highlighted by the remaining sunbeams.

Your mind felt quieter, your soul a little more peaceful.

You followed Spencer as he guided you through your interlocked hands down the white sand, your eyes trailed over every textured seashell hidden in the soft grains, this was easier to focus on than the feeling in your stomach. He guided you along the pier silently, your eyes moving from sea shells to the sand grains hidden through the cracks of the timber planks. 

“Do you want to sit, Angel?” He asked gently as his hand moved from yours to your back, a silent ache of reassurance that he was there. You answered silently by moving to sit along the edge of the wooden pier, feet dangling over the edge as your hands settled in your lap and your gaze moved back to the pretty picture painted by the sky. Spencer follows your movements, sitting beside you.

You let the silence between you give way to the calming crashing of the waves against the shoreline. The reflection of the colours in the sky, over the water. Everything was so beautiful, the setting against your face less harsh then your mind had made it out to be in memory. 

“I think I’m broken” You whispered, head dropping to look down at your feet dangling, moreso watching the water underneath, the ripples the water made as it danced around, as if putting on a show. Spencer’s head turned to face you, and you didn’t need to look at him to know his eyebrows were knitted in something close to empathy, and concern. More so in understanding. His hand reached out to take yours away from your lap, holding them gently despite the sweat that had built up over your palms.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before running his thumb over them, “Because you feel sad, or sad because you’re scared of feeling sad?” He mumbled out the question gently. He knew how you got, making things bigger in your head before you could help it, jumping to conclusions and making assumptions, you shut down. It's what you knew.

You sighed as you shrugged, other hands picking at the hemming of your shorts, feet kicking slightly over the edge. “I don’t feel sad” You mumbled, frowning slightly. Sad wasn’t the right word to describe what was going on with you. There wasn’t a right word no matter how hard you searched for one, no matter how much you searched for an explanation, you couldn’t find one. “I- I just don’t feel happy. I feel wrong.” 

He hummed in understanding as he shifted to reposition a little bit so he was more turned to face you. “You’re isolating, angel, that's what you were doing when I got there, isolating. You know that doesn’t help.” He was right, and you did know that the fact you were hiding away from anything that could help you feel better wouldn’t help you feel better, and hiding away from the feeling didn’t make it go away.

He sighed at your lack of response. “Baby, it's been two days of warmer weather, and life doesn’t just get easier straight away. You can’t give up, this is one of those things you need to allow to take time” He mumbled, his hand squeezed yours.

You looked up at him, a small frown on your lips but not one of sadness, but because you knew he was right. You put too much pressure on summer to make you feel better and shut down when it didn’t happen straight away. 

“Can we stay here till it’s dark?” You asked. That was enough of an acceptance for him. He smiled softly as he leant over to kiss your forehead, arm moving to wrap around your waist to tug you closer to him, the squeal that left your lips when you were sure you were about to slip off the edge only made his smile widen, because it was followed by a giggle when his arm tightened around your waist.

“We could stay here forever,” He offered.

“Eh, I think I’d need to reapply sunscreen.” You smiled as you looked up at him. Everything was a bit lighter.

His eyebrows furrowed, “Didn’t you bring extra sunscreen, I told you to grab it before we left”

“Oh I wasn’t listening”

“Well, now we will have to go home at some point!"

[satellite-evans]

Juntos.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco struggles with disappointment after losing his racing seat, but your support helps him feel less alone in facing the tough situation.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, little fluff

main masterlist

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Franco fic so I am very excited!!! I am very new to Formula 1 so I will try my best to make the stories as realistic as possible. I dramatized this fic a little bc I could not help myself lol but I love Carlos sm and wish him nothing but luck in Williams. Also, I would not mind if you guys help me understand Formula 1 more xxx

hope you guys will like it :)

Also, the Spanish words I used are directly from Google Translate, if I made mistakes please feel free to correct me <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The dim light of the apartment cast a glow over the cozy space, the kind that usually made the room feel warm and inviting. Tonight, however, it felt different—heavier, subdued, as if the walls themselves understood the weight of the emotions filling the air. The scent of a faintly burning candle lingered in the background, a forgotten remnant of an attempt to lighten the mood earlier in the evening. Outside, the muffled sounds of the city hummed faintly, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence inside.

Franco sat on the edge of the couch, his head bowed, fingers tangled in his dark hair. His shoulders hunched forward, as though bearing the weight of an invisible burden too great to carry. The usually vibrant spark in his eyes, the one that ignited whenever he talked about racing, was gone. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, unseeing, his expression hollow. It was as if the moment he walked through the door, all the fight had drained out of him, leaving behind a man who didn’t know how to put the pieces of himself back together.

You stood by the kitchen counter, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He hadn’t said much since he got home, just a quiet “Estoy en casa” before sinking into the couch. He used easy Spanish words around you since he knew you wanted to learn the language. That's how kind he was. You’d known this day would be hard for him, but seeing him like this was almost unbearable. The news had come down like a guillotine: Carlos Sainz was taking the seat. Franco was out, with no prospects for next year. No contract, no guarantees. Nothing but the crushing void left behind by a dream slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t fair. You knew how hard he’d worked, how much of himself he’d poured into his career. The endless hours in the gym, the relentless study of data, the sacrifices he made, all for the pursuit of speed, glory, and a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage. And yet, it hadn’t been enough.

He’d tried to hide it at first. When he’d called you after the meeting, his voice had been calm, even detached. But you’d heard the slight tremor, the hesitation that betrayed his carefully constructed mask. And now, here he was, the man you loved, unraveling before your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The steam curled softly in the air, a fragile whisper of warmth against the cold tension that filled the room. You set it down gently on the coffee table before lowering yourself onto the cushion beside him.

“Franco,” you said softly, your voice a lifeline in the quiet. He didn’t look up, but the slight shift in his posture told you he’d heard you. Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. His skin was warm, but his fingers remained still, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I know how much this meant to you.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. The sight of him like this—so raw, so vulnerable—made your chest ache.

“I did everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “Everything. And it wasn’t enough. They just… threw me away. Like I don’t matter.”

Tears pricked your own eyes as you reached out to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing against his stubbled cheeks. “You do matter, Franco. To me, to your family, to the fans who adore you. To everyone who’s ever seen you race and knows how talented you are.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Talent doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the politics, the money, the… connections. Carlos… he’s amazing, and he deserves it, I know that. But I can’t help feeling like I’ll never be enough, no matter what I do.”

“No soy suficiente,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not enough." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet intensity.

“Don' say that, you're more than enough,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “And I know this feels impossible right now, like the world’s closing in on you, but this isn’t the end of your story. You’re Franco. My Frankie. You’re a fighter, a dreamer, and you’ve never let anything keep you down before. This won’t either.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time that evening, he leaned into you, his head resting against your shoulder. The weight of him felt heavier than usual, as though he’d poured all his sorrow and weariness into the simple act of leaning on you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, cradling him as if you could shield him from the pain of the world.

“No sé qué haría sin vos,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His arms came around you then, pulling you closer, as though he was afraid to let go. You felt his tears dampen your shirt, and the sound of his quiet sobs broke your heart all over again. But you didn’t let go. You held him tighter, letting him pour out everything he’d been holding inside.

“You’re my everything, Franco,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ll always be here. No matter what. Together, we’ll get through this.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with something deeper now—gratitude, love, and maybe a flicker of hope. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips trembling against yours but charged with a fierce intensity. The kiss was deep and searching, a collision of his anguish and gratitude, his need to find solace in the one constant in his life—you. His hands cupped your face, fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring himself to you, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. It wasn’t hurried but deliberate, each movement a testament to the depth of his emotions. You could feel the raw edges of his heartbreak and the unspoken promise of his love, so consuming and desperate it made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven, the faintest quiver still lingering in his lips. The weight of his gaze bore into yours, as though he was silently pleading for reassurance that you’d stay by his side. And in that moment, you both knew you were his safe haven, his reason to keep fighting.

“We’re going to get through this,” you repeated softly, brushing a strand of his hair from his face. “Together.”

A soft murmur broke the silence. “Juntos,” Franco whispered, almost to himself.

You blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Juntos? What’s that? An unreleased Sabrina Carpenter song or something?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax even a hint of a smile from him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, and then, to your relief, a small, genuine giggle escaped his lips. It was the first time you’d heard him laugh all night, and it warmed you to your core.

He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips now. “No, it’s Spanish. It means ‘together.’”

“Together,” you repeated softly, the word settling in your heart like a comforting balm.

He nodded, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been saying it all night without realizing it. ‘Together, we’ll figure it out.’ ‘Together, we’ll find a way.’ You keep reminding me I’m not alone. And… you’re right. Juntos. We’ll do this juntos, no matter what.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they were from the overwhelming love and gratitude you felt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes, juntos. Siempre. Always.”

A soft chuckle escaped him again, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. In that moment, the weight of the world didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Together—juntos—you knew you’d face whatever came next.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 23] || [Chapter 25]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: just cute little moments w/ a lot of banter bc ofc

Chapter 24: Pokémon?

“So, yeah, now, even their Captain wants to…” You trail off awkwardly as you press your lips together, looking at the dropped jaws on the other side of the brunch table from you.

“Hun, I don’t- We might-” Leah starts as she stares at you, blinking away the surprise as she holds the utensils.

“Right?” Mia retorts as she stares at you. “The candle I lit for you worked too well, I reckon…”

“No, really, we girlbossed a bit too close to the sun… Manifested this too hard.” Leah adds, making Mia agree eagerly.

Your face warms up and you lower your head, taking a sip of your tea. You definitely shouldn’t be having this talk about your love and sex life inside this French bistro… but alas.

“Four? I mean… Four fwb would be understandable, you know?” Mia adds and Leah nods.

“But four boyfriends?” Leah adds. “And they’re all friends, and work together?”

“They’re not my boyfriends!” You retort as you say sharply, your face burning up a bit.

“Oh yeah? Are you seeing anyone else?” Leah retorts, ever the more logical of the three of you.

“No, but like, when would I have the time for that?” You retort and that earns chuckles from all three of you.

“Good point.” Leah concedes as she sips her own warm cappuccino.

“Regardless, they literally BEAT-” Mia lowers her voice when she realize she’s being too loud. “they beat Ethan’s arse for you.” She whisper shouts. “Fwbs don’t do that, boyfriends do!”

“Right!” Leah agrees and gestures at them. “They’re absolutely your boyfriends.” 

“I hate you both.” You retort and shake your head, amused, which causes all three of you to break into giggles.

“So, which one of them is, you know-” Mia asks in a mischievous tone just as you just ate a bit of omelette, causing your eyes to widen as you stare at her.

“I feel like I’m being mocked.” You quip.

Once again the two of them erupt with laughs. “I’m sorry, hun, but we’ve gotta live vicariously through you!” Leah says, Mia nodding in agreement.

“Nooo, you’re taking the piss out of me!” You reply with a chuckle.

“C’moooooon! Gossip with us! We barely see you nowadays!” Mia begs as she puts her hands together in pleading.

“Oh bloody hell…” You retort. “I don’t know-”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease!” Mia begs.

“Alright! Gosh, I was going to say ‘I don’t know because I haven’t been with all of them yet’!” You reply.

“You haven’t?!” The girls say with a loud gasp that attracts loads of side-eye from the other patrons. You’re probably going to get kicked out soon.

“Will you shush?” You scold them, eyes widened and lips pressed together. “No, I haven’t.”

“You’ve got to!” Mia tells you.

“We’ll get there, we’re taking it slow.” You reply.

“Babes, they beat up your ex-” Leah tells you. “They’ve all slept over at some point, they pick you up from work every day, as long as they’re in town-” She continues to list, counting with her fingers.

“Right, you’re skipping through all the loops. There’s no ‘taking it slow’!” Mia adds. “Hop on those cocks, bloody hell!”

“MIA!” You scold her with a dropped jaw.

“Oh, don’t play coy now! You’ve got four boyfriends!” Leah retorts and narrows her eyes at you, sticking her tongue out now.

“Right, collecting them like trading cards.” Mia adds, causing the three of you to laugh again.

“They’re like Pokémon, you’ve just Gotta Catch’Em All!” Leah adds, causing you to cover your mouth to hide a snort of a laugh.

“Fuck you both, honestly!” You quip playfully. You missed them, missed the laughs they’ve provided you.

“No, but really now.” Leah says once you’ve all calmed down. “They make you really happy, we can see it.” She looks at you with a warm smile on her lips.

“They do.” You confirm with a sheepish nod and smile.

“I really hopes it works out between you and them.” Mia adds. “It’s so nice to see you smile this much!” Her tone is sincere and sweet.

“Thank you…” You say softly. “I hope so too.” You tell them.

“It better, or I’ll go after them with my pipe!” Mia warns, referencing an inside joke between the three of you, a piece of rusty pipe a repairman left behind at her flat after fixing her bathroom sink, which she now uses as her ‘signature weapon’.

“Right, you’re gonna pipe four soldiers?” You joke a bit, sarcastically.

“Oh no, hun, they’re the ones piping you!” Mia adds and you all lose it laughing again.

“So when are we going to meet them?” Leah teases.

-

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Kyle would answer your texts so quick.

You also shouldn’t have been surprised that he brought Johnny in tow.

And yet you were. 

You texted Kyle your location and in less than 20 minutes he was jogging up the pavement, Johnny hot on his heels. You could see them coming through the window.

“Bloody hell…” You mutter as you watch them turn to go through the front door of the café/bistro.

“What?” Leah asks and before you can say anything, they both turn to look at where you are, finding Kyle and Johnny strolling right in and in your direction, cute little smirks on their lips.

Your friends recognize them immediately, of course, you had shown plenty of pictures, especially when you had just matched them on Tinder… But seeing them in real life is always different.

Kyle’s pretty boy-ing as usual. White v-neck to show off his collar bones and defined chest, grey jeans, white Converse and a black denim jacket overtop of it. He has his cutest smile on, pretty lashes fluttering as he comes to stand by your side.

“Hi, lovie…” He greets you and leans down, kissing the top of your head, before turning to greet your friends. “Hey, I’m Kyle!” He says politely.

He barely has time to say anything else before Johnny, throws himself onto the free chair next to you, the last one at this table for four, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Mo leannan, ye look so bonnie…” He says before gripping you around the jaw and stealing a direct, open-mouthed kiss from you. Your eyes widen the moment he does, causing you to carefully hold onto his beefy forearm, returning the kiss to the best of your (embarrassed) abilities.

Just as you’re pulling away, you can hear Kyle justifying the kiss to your flabbergasted friends. “Forgive ‘im, he was raised in a barn.” 

“Haud Yer Wheesht! I was not!” Johnny retorts as he turns to look at your friends. “Hi, I’m Johnny.” He adds as a greeting, a lopsided smirk on his face, as he reaches forward to… shake hands with your friends.

Johnny smells strongly of deodorant. That Lynx body spray shite he always sprays on himself. It’s not bad, but it’s strong… You’re only lucky the leather jacket he’s wearing conceals it a bit.

It’s an old thing, maybe a couple of decades’ old, the leather starting to wear out over the shoulders, and he’s paired it with a light blue hoodie, dark jeans and black combat boots.

“Was too.” Kyle retorts, a bit childishly as he comes to stand by your side, his hands caressing your bare arms in the t-shirt you’re wearing. “You three been having fun?” He asks you and your friends. Ever mature and considerate, he is.

Your friends are still just staring. Sure, they knew you haven’t been lying to them as you told them about your relationship with these men but it’s one thing to hear about it, the other to see it.

“Yep, we had fun, Gaz…” You say softly, catching the way Johnny’s just serving himself to the dessert you haven’t yet touched on your plate.

“You really were raised in a barn.” You tell him. “Don’t even ask permission to eat my food?” You scold him, which causes him to smirk again.

“Either I stuff my mouth with food or with you. And I’m still civilised enough to know the last one is frowned upon to do in public.” Johnny retorts, then his smile grows into an impish grin. “Unless you’re into some… kinky things.” He winks.

That causes you to sputter and look away, grumbling under your breath as his ever-present tendency to make dirty jokes.

“I like ‘im!” Mia announces suddenly as she stares at Johnny.

“I knew you would. You two think the same.” You tell her and shake your head. “Which is why I only asked Kyle to come.” You add and stare at Kyle with a cocked brow, as if questioning why he didn’t come along.

“He was on his knees begging to come. What was I supposed to do? Leave ‘im behind?” Kyle quips, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Was not!!!!” Johnny retorts. “I just figured out he was coming to see you and joined in!” He adds. “Plus, my feelings are hurt you didn’t want me to come!” He tells you with a fake pout.

“Oh, piss off, it’s not that I didn’t want you to come!” You say simply. “It’s just that you’re…”

“A dickhead.” Kyle finishes for you.

“NO!” You scold Kyle. “I was going to say ‘Intense’.”

“Intense? That feels like a euphemism for something bad, mo leannan!” The Scot tells you as he pops a macaron into his mouth.

“That’s ‘cause it is.” Kyle replies for you.

“It’s not- Kyle!”

“And your friends already like me, don’t ye?” Johnny turns his attention to the girls.

“Yes, we do!” Mia replies and nods. 

Leah still hasn’t shaken out of her stupor. “My God, there’s two of them.” She says as she looks back and forth between Mia and Johnny.

“I know… I know…” You soothe her in a playfully annoyed tone.

“So, Johnny, is it?” Mia quips and leans forward to whisper conspirationally. “Give it to us straight. How does it work?” She points vaguely at you and him and Kyle.

“Mia!” You scold her this time. “I thought we were past those topics?”

“‘Those’ topics?” Kyle asks as he lowers himself near you to listen in better. “And what topics would those be?” He adds, as if he’s not perfectly aware they mean you guys’ sex life.

“Oh my God, Kyle, not you too!” You whine as you look at him.

“Nae, it’s fine that they’re curious!” Johnny quips on the other side. “I’ll gladly tell ye all about it!”

“Johnny!” You scold him again, sounding ever the more exasperated.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have anythin’ to tell either way, you dickhead.” Kyle retorts. “I’m the only one that has all the tea to share.”

“KYLE!” You scold him too, your head going back and forth between the two men flanking you.

The banter continues, your friends seemingly absolutely engrossed in the two sergeants, the way they’re making you sweat, and almost begging for the side of the gossip you had swiftly evaded earlier in the brunch.

“God help me survive this-” You murmur to yourself, feeling crescently embarrassed as everyone on the table takes the piss out of you. “I hate you all… I should’ve just invited Simon…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[requiemforthepoets]

first encounter ⟢ CL16

⟢ part two of you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part three ☽

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: all thanks to leo, charles finally got the chance to meet you—the celestial being who has consumed his every waking thoughts, and managed to find out new things.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little bit of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.

WORD COUNT: 5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. sorry it took me a LONG time to post the part 2 of this series, i already have this on my drafts but never got the time to check on it bc i’ve been working on my other series (fa14 series), but finally, here it is! the part 3 may take a long time to be posted again 🥲 but you don’t have to worry bc i intend on finishing this series. taglist is open for this series, so just comment or message me if you want to be tagged. your comment/reblog is highly appreciated, and i hope you’ll enjoy this second part of the series!

It was a warm late afternoon in Monaco, and Charles had finally pulled himself out of his apartment, hoping that some fresh air and Leo’s cheerful company might turn off the constant thoughts running through his mind. Since that night in Singapore, you had been all Charles could think about—the image of you standing before him, looking at him as though you knew the secrets he hadn’t even dared to ask himself. Charles had barely gotten a word in before you disappeared, leaving him with nothing but more questions.

The park was mostly empty, allowing him and Leo to stroll without the usual flood of cameras or people hoping to get a quick word with him. Charles enjoyed these rare quiet moments, watching Leo run through the grass, capturing photos of him mid-leap, his ears flapping, and his tail wagging in pure delight. For a while, it was peaceful—that is until Leo began barking persistently, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

“Leo, calme-toi.” Charles called, trying to soothe his normally docile dachshund.

Leo rarely barked at nothing, and Charles couldn’t see what had him all stirred up. As he looked past Leo, his heart skipped. There you were, standing at the edge of the park, just as he had remembered you, dressed in black, untouched by the brightness of the world around you, as if you had stepped from a different realm entirely. Slowly, Charles walked over, kneeling beside Leo, who was still barking.

“Can you see her too, buddy?” Charles asked softly, but Leo only turned his head back towards you.

His barks began shifting into a delighted whine, tail wagging as though greeting an old friend. To Charles’ amazement, Leo took off towards you, bounding across the grass with uncharacteristic excitement. You bent down on one knee as Leo reached you, his small body pressing happily against your touch. Charles just stood there and watched, captivated by the whole sight, how your hand moved over Leo’s fur, and how the dog responded, oblivious to the fact that what he felt was something beyond the ordinary. You then looked up at Charles and smiled, a gentle, knowing expression on your face.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured to Leo, reaching out to stroke him. Your gaze followed Leo’s figure as he trotted back toward Charles. “He’s a beautiful soul. It’s clear how well you take good care of him, he is very happy with this life.”

Charles swallowed, taken aback by the warmth of your words. He felt a huge wave of relief washing over him, and somehow, you were not a figment of his imagination. You were in front of him, speaking to him, your voice soft but firm, grounding him in the reality of your presence.

Noticing a bench nearby, you gestured, “shall we sit?” Charles nodded.

He followed you as you walked, though he kept glancing around as if worried that someone might catch him talking to thin air. The two of you sat side by side, your gaze focused on Leo as he scampered around, while Charles couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at you. The silence between you felt almost sacred, deafening, thick with all the unspoken questions he longed to ask.

“I know you have many questions,” finally, you broke the silence. Your voice was gentle. “Especially as to why you can see me, when others could not.”

Charles let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I—I don’t understand. I’ve seen you before, but you keep on disappearing, and no one else…they never see you.” his voice was a soft murmur, filled with confusion and wonder.

“Our kind, like myself, we’re not meant to be seen by human eyes. We’re here to watch and guide, but only from afar. Most humans only sense us as a passing feeling, a presence.” you softly said, as you studied him with a faint smile. “But in your case, you see me. Truly see me.”

“Why, though? Why am I able to see you?” Charles’ brows furrowed, his gaze intent on yours.

You turned to look at Leo, who was now sitting a short distance away, watching the two of you with a curious tilt of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Leo.

“It’s rare, Charles. But sometimes, there is a connection between our kind to your kind that goes beyond the veil. I’ve thought about it myself, and though I don’t have all the answers, it’s clear that there’s a reason you and I keep crossing paths.”

Charles’ heart raced. The way you spoke, as though fate had woven an invisible thread between you had left him reeling. He glanced around the park, reminded of how strange this conversation must look to anyone passing by, but he did not care at all. The need to understand, to know you, outweighed any risk of prying eyes.

“Maybe…maybe we should go somewhere less public?” Charles suggested, his voice low.

He did not want this moment to end, he couldn’t let you disappear on him again before he had the chance to understand this kind of connection. You looked at him for a long contemplative moment, then nodded.

“All right, lead the way.”

Charles led you quietly through the streets of Monaco and up to his apartment. He hadn’t said much on the way, clearly lost in thought, yet there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. When you entered his apartment, you immediately noticed how it held an essence of him. Warm, understated, and filled with memories. The walls were decorated with framed photographs spanning his life from childhood karting days to podium celebrations in F1. Trophies were all lined up on the shelf, and each piece seemed to carry a story of its own.

You were drawn to the photos, especially those capturing his relationships, the warm smiles he shared with his family, playful moments with his friends, and candid shots of him and his brothers. Then your gaze settled on one particular photograph, and a bittersweet feeling bloomed within you. It was a younger version of Charles, perhaps in his teens, standing alongside a man whose face you recognize. Jules Bianchi.

Charles noticed the direction of your attention as he finished filling up Leo’s dog bowl, and he stepped over to join you, his expression softening as he saw the photograph. Jules had been so much more than just a mentor to him. The man in that photo had shaped parts of his soul and his dreams. You could feel the weight of Charles’ emotions lingering in the air, a tender ache mixed with recognition.

“You knew him?” Charles’ voice was quiet as he stood beside you.

You nodded softly, your own voice taking on a gentle tone. “I was there in his final moments. I was the one who guided him when he was ready to go, helping him crossover.”

Charles’ face was a mix of expression, caught between surprise and disbelief. For a second, he seemed unable to respond, the information settling slowly. You watched him intently as he took a deep breath, grounding himself.

“You…you spoke to him?” he managed, his voice strained with a mix of sorrow and longing.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady but tender. “I spoke with his soul as he lingered between here and the afterlife. It was…peaceful. He was calm when I arrived, almost as if he knew he was not going to stay.”

You paused, “I then asked him about his life, what his favorite thing about life was.”

”He told me that his family meant everything to him. He then mentioned being a godfather, and his dreams for his protégé, a young man named Charles.” you added.

“He said that?” he whispered, breath hitched as he instinctively reached up to touch the frame, his fingers resting just over the image of Jules’ face.

“He spoke of you with such pride, with hope that you would go on to achieve everything he had dreamed for you. Jules saw himself in you, Charles. His last thoughts were with his family and you.” you looked at him softly. A quiet rage simmered in Charles’ eyes as he turned to look at you, his voice tinged with frustration.

“But why? Why couldn’t you let his family speak to him, too? They waited for so long, hoping he’d wake up, to say goodbye properly.” the raw pain and anger in his voice were unmistakable.

Charles had not meant to question your intentions, but the loss of Jules had carved a wound that had never fully healed, and in his grief, he momentarily forgot you were not human. You looked at him with a soft, understanding smile, letting the weight of his sorrow wash over you. You had witnessed this kind of reaction before, how those who are grief-stricken often felt deprived of closure.

“I understand, Charles. If I could have done differently, I would have,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “But it wasn’t his body I spoke to, it was his soul. Jules was already watching from the other side, beyond the reach of the physical world. In those moments, he wasn’t in his body anymore, he was seeing all of you from a place where time no longer held sway.”

Charles looked down, processing your words, the anger fading slowly as he tried to keep his emotions steady. He tried to reconcile his emotions with the reality of what you had just shared. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze fixed on the floor as he took in a shaky breath.

“So he…he was watching us all along?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you assured him. “He was with you. Every tear, every moment spent beside his hospital bed, he saw it all, even if he himself couldn’t respond in a way you wished for it to be.”

“Souls don’t always leave the way we want them to. They transition gently, often lingering just to be close to the people they love.” you added. Charles’ shoulder slumped slightly, and he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as if finally accepting what had once seemed unimaginable.

“It…it makes sense,” he murmured. “Jules was always calm, even in the most difficult moments. Maybe he knew it would be easier this way.”

There was a peaceful silence that settled between the both of you, the only sound being Leo’s soft footsteps as he padded over to sit by Charles’ feet. Charles looked at you again, the sorrow in his eyes tinted by a glimmer of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, a sincerity in his words that touched you deeply. “For…for being there with him, and for telling me.”

You gave him a reassuring nod, feeling the depth of his appreciation. “He is proud of you, Charles. More than you know. You are honoring his legacy every time you step onto the track.”

Charles closed his eyes briefly, absorbing your words, a new sense of peace settling over him. He knew that the ache would remain, but perhaps now, with you there to share this part of Jules’ journey, it would be a little easier to carry.

Eventually, you found yourself seated on the barstool, observing how Charles moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients as he prepared a dish called pasta, and noting the way he moved with a quiet confidence. He seemed at ease, but you could tell by the occasional glance he cast your way that he was still processing everything. The strange connection he had with you, a Celestial he could see but others could not. As he stirred the sauce on the stove, he broke the silence, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“So…what exactly are you?” Charles asked, attempting to sound casual, though his curiosity was clear. “Are you like an angel of death or something?” his brows furrowed slightly as he added.

“No, Charles. I’m not here to take you away,” you assured him, tone gentle, and couldn’t help but smile at his suspicion. “Think of me as a guide and a protector. My duty is to help souls cross the afterlife, to make sure that they are not alone and lonely when they cross the other side.”

“So, you’re…you’re not here for me?” he asked, his voice tentative. You could see the worry in his eyes, as if he had been half afraid that he might be speaking with the very spirit that would one day guide him out of this life.

“Not at all,” you replied. “I’m here because, somehow, we have this connection. I was there in the hospital room, with your father, when you saw me for the first time. It was a natural part of my duty, I was waiting to guide him. Just as I was there for Jules.”

“So you only appear when…someone’s close to death?” Charles’ gaze dropped to the countertop, and he nodded slowly, as if piercing it all together.

“Typically, yes,” you replied. “Humans are not meant to see me. They may sense it, a presence, calmness, or even a cool warmth when I’m near, but that’s usually all. So, I could not quite understand why you could see me. It isn’t common.”

“But I can see you.” he said, almost to himself, as if still trying to grasp this phenomenon.

“Exactly.” you looked at him thoughtfully. “Over time, as I have watched over you, you’ve somehow become aware of me. It’s as if the bond between us allowed you to see me when others can’t.”

You let the words hang, hoping it answered the mystery that had puzzled him for so long. Charles turned back to the stove, his movements slower, as if he were allowing himself time to absorb what you had just said. After a moment, he turned to look at you again.

“Back in Singapore…I kept thinking of you, wondering if you were real or just in my head.” he hesitated, then continued. “And you appeared, it was like you sensed me or something.”

“That’s precisely what happened,” a gentle smile crossed your face as you saw the gears turning inside his head. “I could feel your thoughts, your longing to see me, and so I came to you. Your thoughts, they called to me.”

“But why do you always disappear?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “Every time I think I already have you here, you’re gone the second I look away.”

“It’s not by choice, Charles.” you met his gaze, understanding his frustration. “My presence here beside you is not permanent. I have duties beyond just watching over you, it is my duty to guide other people as well. My duty is to help those souls cross peacefully into the afterlife, which means I’m often called away. That’s why I can’t always be here, even if you want me to be.”

“I understand,” he said softly as he looked down, absorbing your words. “It’s…strange, but it does make sense.”

A comfortable silence fell between you and Charles as he took out a plate and transferred the pasta dish on it. You could still feel the wheels turning in his mind as he processed everything. After a moment, you spoke again.

“If you want me to be with you, well, there is a way.” you said.

He looked up at you, now intrigued. “A way?”

You nodded. “Yes. If you light a match or a lighter and call for me, then blow it out, I���ll hear it, and I’ll come to you.”

“Why a match?” Charles’ brows furrowed as he considered it.

“Fire.” you explained. “It is a symbol of transition. It’s an ancient element that is used to connect realms, to call forth spirits, and to bridge the distance between worlds. When you light a match or a lighter, you are creating a momentary flame that connects you to my realm, and when you blow the fire out, it becomes a message—a summons. I’ll hear it, wherever I am.”

“So, I just…call out to you, light a flame, and you’ll come?” Charles’ lips curved into a small smile.

“Yes.” you returned his smile, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “As long as you need me, Charles. Wherever you are, I’ll always find a way to be there.”

Charles looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something deeper, a newfound comfort that seemed to settle over him. In that quiet moment, Charles reached for his fork, but his gaze lingered on you, a newfound clarity softening his features.

“Thank you.” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He then placed a plate of pasta right in front of you, and you tilted your head, looking at the dish with sheer curiosity and slight confusion. Charles noticed your expression, stopping mid-motion as he raised his own fork.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but genuinely concerned.

“I don’t…eat,” you explained softly, gaze flickering between him and the plate, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Celestials don’t have the need for food, so I don’t know what it’s like to taste something, let alone pasta.” you could see a flicker of surprise and something that almost looked like offense pass over his face.

“What? You’ve never tasted pasta?” he asked, shocked, as he looked down at his beloved dish, looking genuinely horrified. “Pasta is…it’s comforting, it’s warmth and tradition. It’s something everyone has to try.”

“Okay, imagine this—it’s soft and a little chewy, warm and…kind of like a hug, but for your mouth.” he added, grinning at you with his eyes lighting up. “And with this tomato sauce, its got this balance of sweet and tangy, a bit salty too, it just…makes everything feel better.” his expression softened.

You watched Charles as he spoke, entranced and touched by his earnest attempt to describe something so familiar to him yet so foreign to you. Spending this time with him, watching his animated expression, hearing his heartfelt explanations, you begin to understand why his father and Jules had spoken of him so warmly in their final moments. Charles was not only passionate, but genuinely kind and unpretentiously funny. There was a gentleness to him that touched your heart, even if it couldn’t beat the way a human’s did.

Hours slipped by so fast, and you both found yourselves seated on his living room couch, talking quietly, the evening light fading around you. Charles asked questions after questions, fascinated by your world and by what you do. You answered each one as best as you could, and with each answer, his awe seemed to deepen. You shared stories of guiding other souls, moments of peace and love you had witnessed. He listened, hanging onto each word, and you could see a newfound calmness in his eyes.

While you were in the middle of telling him a story about guiding an elderly woman who had waited until all her children were by her side before letting go, you heard a soft sound. Glancing to your right, you found Charles with his head tipped back against the couch cushion, his breathing steady and calm. He had drifted off, exhaustion settling over him like a soft blanket. For a moment, you just watched him, studying his peaceful face. Charles’ long lashes rested against his cheeks, and a gentle warmth seemed to radiate from him, a stark contrast to the chill you carried with you.

A quiet yearning tugged at you as you lifted a hand, your fingers hovering near his face. You wanted, just once, to feel the warmth of human skin, to know what it was like to truly touch, but you know better. If you let your fingers graze him, he would only feel a cold wisp of air, a reminder that you didn’t belong to this world in the same way as Charles did. So, reluctantly, you lowered your hand and simply looked at him, memorizing the moment.

You had spent nearly the entire day with Charles, and though part of you longed to stay, you knew it was time to leave. Quietly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to where Leo was resting nearby. You knelt down beside the little dachshund, who lifted his head to watch you with those soulful eyes, tail giving a soft wag, and you reached out, your fingers ghosting over his fur.

“Leo, I know that your past life was not kind to you and had been cut short, but you’re safe now. In this life, you’re well taken care of and so loved.” you spoke softly, as Leo seemed to tilt his head, like he understood every word you say. “Charles is a good man, he will love and take care of you, always.”

As you straightened up, Leo continued to watch you, his eyes filled with a sense of understanding. You turned to take one last look at Charles, still asleep on the couch, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. A soft smile crept over your face as you watched him, there was a wave of warmth washing over you, even without a heartbeat to drive it.

With a final, quiet glance at Leo, who looked back at you with trusting eyes, you let yourself disappear, and slipped back into the unseen world that had always separated you from the people you guided. Yet, for a short moment, you knew you had left a part of yourself with Charles and Leo in that Monaco apartment.

Charles woke up with a dull ache running through his neck, reminding him of the night he had spent sleeping on the couch. He rubbed the sore spot, groaning slightly as he tried to stretch out the stiffness. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, until the memories of last night’s memory surfaced. The conversation, quiet moments, and then the emptiness when he realized you had left. He sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as a sense of longing settled over him, a quiet ache that wasn’t so easily stretched away.

A small bark drew his attention to Leo, who was sitting nearby, watching him with an endearing tilt of his head, and noticing Charles’ contemplative state. He smiled and reached out, calling Leo over.

“What do you think, Leo? It was one strange night, huh?” Leo padded over gently, wagging his tail as Charles scooped him up, holding him close.

For a few minutes, Charles simply enjoyed and basked in the warmth of Leo in his arms, the familiar comfort that Leo offered in the midst of all the strange, unexplainable things that he was feeling. Last night had been a fever dream for him, but he knew that it was real, that it happened.

“Do you think it’s strange? Wanting to see her again?” he added. Leo just responded with a quiet, comforting look and nestled close to Charles.

After a while, curiosity began to gnaw at him. Charles could not shake the desire to know more about you, as to why he felt this pull, this connection that seemed impossible and yet so real. He padded into his bedroom, grabbed his laptop and settled in, typing Celestial Angels into the search bar. Countless articles, myths, and even fiction flooded his screen. Charles sifted through several pages, skipping over anything that seemed overly romanticized or far-fetched, until one article caught his eye.

The article spoke of Celestial Angels who formed deep bonds with their humans, describing how they acted as protectors, watchers, and guides. It mentioned the rare connection that could occur, a phenomenon where an angel might become so deeply intertwined with a human soul that they developed a sense of longing or even love, something that was both a blessing and a curse for the Celestial. As he read further, Charles could not help but wonder if this was what he had experienced, if this was the reason he kept seeing you, why he felt such a pull toward you.

Charles then stumbled upon a book: The Celestials by an author named Celestine Williams. The cover featured a faint, ethereal image of a figure wrapped in light, the silhouette barely discernible, much like he imagined you, and the description noted that it explored the stories and folklore surrounding Celestials and their interactions with humans, a deep dive book. The reviews were glowing, a few feedbacks talking about how the book shed light on the mysteries of these beings and the unique connections they could form. Without a second thought, Charles clicked buy, hoping the book would give him a glimpse into your world, something that might help him understand you much better.

Charles then returned his attention back to the article. But his focus kept drifting, thoughts of you had surfaced in his mind unbidden, wondering where you were right now, what you might be doing, if you were watching over someone else or wandering through some hidden place unknown to humans. The pull to see you, to call you, was growing stronger by the second, becoming a quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.

He set the laptop aside, exhaling as he mulled over the idea. Charles remembered what you had told him when he needed you—that he could call you by lighting a match or a lighter, a summon that would draw you to him. He doesn't know if it would even work, or if you would even come, but the need to see you was already overriding any doubts that he has. So he then grabbed a small lighter that he kept somewhere hidden in his kitchen and went to his living room, sitting down on the couch with Leo curled up beside him.

Charles knew it was kind of absurd, like it was something straight out of a fairy tale of a late-night ghost story, but last night, you had told him that if he wanted to see you, all he had to do was light a flame and call out to you. A part of him, the rational side, wanted to shrug it off as nonsense. But then the other part of him had witnessed things that were impossible and felt that strange connection to you, urging him to at least give it a try.

“Am I really fucking doing this?” he murmured, looking down at Leo for approval. But Leo just looked at him, with a face that said ‘what’s the harm in trying?’ “Ah, fuck it.”

Finally, with a deep breath, he flicked the lighter on, watching the tiny flame flame dance as he whispered out to you, a barely audible plea for you to return. The flame flickered as he called out to you, then he blew it out gently, his eyes lingering on the wisp of smoke that rose and faded. His heart was pounding, unsure if should expect an immediate response or if he had simply made a wish to the empty air.

A hush settled over the quiet living room, and for a moment, nothing really happened. Charles felt a pang of disappointment, even a touch of embarrassment at how eager he was and had hoped. He let out a disheartening chuckle, letting out a quiet sight right after, and lowering the lighter, thinking that maybe he had been mistaken or that the depth of the bond he felt was just his pure imagination.

Just as he stood up, about to return the lighter back into the kitchen, Charles felt a shift in the air, a delicate, almost undetectable shimmer, like a faint breeze brushing across his skin. He looked up, and there you were, standing in the soft morning light, an almost imperceptible glow framing your presence. The world seemed to pause, the weight of the day fading away as he took in the sight of you. You stood there, a soft, otherworldly light around you, the faintest hint of warmth in your eyes as you looked at him. Charles felt his breath hitching, he had not realized how much he missed seeing you until now. He began feeling a strange mix of relief and happiness.

“You called for me?” you asked softly, your voice like a distant melody.

Charles nodded, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed, but unable to look away at you. “I…I did, I hope it’s okay. I just…” he paused, fumbling over his words. “I wanted to see if it works, and to see you again. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re allowed to call for me, Charles. That’s why I told you how you can reach for me.” you smiled gently, a warmth in your expression that seemed to reach him despite your distance.

“I’ve been reading about Celestial Angels, trying to understand.” he let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands inside of his pockets, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I came across all these stories about angels who…form connections with their humans.” Charles looked down, collecting his thoughts.

“I guess I just wanted to understand what we have. Why do you keep on appearing, and why does it feel like I know you, even though I don’t really.” he added.

“The connection between an angel and their human isn’t something that happens every day. It’s rare, something beyond explanation.” your expression softened, and took a slow step forward, closing the gap between you. “We’re not supposed to form attachments, but sometimes, it’s as if the universe allows it, just for a moment.”

“So…it’s real, then? I’m not imagining it at all?” his gaze never leaving you, but filled with curiosity.

“No, Charles,” you shook your head. “You’re not imagining it. It’s real. You were always different, even from the first time I saw you.”

“I don’t know what this all means, but I want to understand.” he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, voice quiet, and a raw honesty was lacing his tone as he held your gaze.

“Sometimes, understanding isn’t possible, not in a way humans desire. Some things simply are.” you said quietly.

You then placed a hand near his, close enough that Charles could almost feel your presence, but not quite touching. The silence stretched, rich and weighty, filled with words left unsaid. Finally, he managed a faint smile.

“Thank you. For you know, for coming.” Charles said softly.

“For you, I always will.” you replied, smiling at him.

taglist : @charlesgirl16 , @chloes-book-corner , @wierdflowerpower

[velvetures]

omg I luv ur writing!!! is it possible to get a story thats like, ghost (or whomever) is stretching and training together but there’s alotttt of sexual tension, and ghost ends up hard and they notice it bc of the position they’re in? (Like he’s restraining reader and his bulge is right in their face😭)

Tension

A/N: I went kinda wild with this one... please excuse my filth. :)

Summary: You've always driven Ghost just short of losing his self-control. Some peeping, close combat training, and seeing you do yoga eventually snaps the fine line warding off the Lieutenant.

T/W's: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, rough sex, overstimulation, tension, inappropriate horniness, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that IRL), fingering, multiple orgasms, standing missionary?, a hint of rushed consent, big feelings, manhandling ofc, and I don't proofread well.

Ghost had watched your late-night training routine many times. A bit of a jog to get warmed up, some plyometrics on one of the mats, and then some light weights. It would leave you in a glittering sheen of sweat under the dim lights; jewel-encrusted as you’d wait until the last hour of your workout to pull out headphones and start doing yoga.

After looking up some of the things you did, the Lieutenant knew enough about it to understand that it wasn’t just some bullshit thing you felt worked. It held some actual merit on plenty of applicable skills. And fuck did you make it look good. From the simple stuff like laying on your back and just breathing, to the more mind-bending positions like the *Sirsa Padasana -*one of those Ghost needed to know the name of- after watching you stay almost entirely still like that for five minutes. He’d seen a lot of the different ways soldiers practiced not only strengthening their bodies but their minds while training. And the way you spent so much time in yoga practice… he felt like there wasn’t any question as to how you had such control over yourself in the field.

In the beginning, Ghost found himself unable to interrupt your… sessions? for the unfounded reason that his presence huffing and groaning while running or lifting would interrupt whatever silence or isolation you preferred. At least, the silence he assumed you wanted since he never saw you in the gym when the sun was still visible. Instead, he’d just come to the edge of the windows and peek to see if you were still there; Deciding how close you were to finishing up before going back to his quarters and waiting until he heard the sounds of your footsteps walking past his door. But he’d been caught after a while.

And it opened up and entirely different kind of training that Ghost wasn’t prepared for.

You had been more than happy to share the gym with him, almost begging that he join since you never had “company” this late at night. Not that his “company” was much more than his body just being in the same room, but it never failed him to see just how utterly calm you were at the thought of him lingering around you. Most people flinched or shied away, but you never did, and even when you twisted yourself into the most ridiculous looking shapes and put yourself into vulnerable positions, it didn’t effect you at all that he could walk right by you or possibly be watching.

He was always watching.

It made hand-to-hand combat drills more interesting too.

Gaz had been partnered up with you initially, seeing as he could be the most patient and actually give you clear pointers without sounding too harsh. He’d been quite happy with your progress over the span of a few months, and quickly gave Ghost a task that became his most challenging mission to date. Teaching you how to fight without losing his own mind being that fucking close to you for nearly two hours multiple times a week. As if personally viewing your workouts late at night wasn’t bad enough, he actually got to feel just how much the yoga strengthened you when he had to grapple your little body and try to pin you down. Teaching you to block fists without seeing them coming, locking knees with opponents three-times your size, avoiding handcuffs, knives, and other non-projection weapons came with a cost.

Ghost wouldn’t really be focused on your techniques or reaction time nearly as much as he’d be concerned about the way your hips ended up flush with his, or just how easy it was for him to just slip one arm between your thighs and effortlessly manhandle you onto the mats. It was hard keeping a clear head when you just made fighting feel a lot more like aggressive foreplay. Hell, you sounded a lot more like you were being fucked too. Nothing but little grunts and groans when he’d secure one arm behind your back, or little pants as you fought off his punches and forward drives to kick one of your feet out from under you. s

“Don’t let me holding anything in your house I your legs,” He felt himself growling out the order as you fought underneath him to pull your legs free from between his thighs.

“If I pin you, you’re dead.” The words were harsh… and it’s why everyone thought Gaz would be a better fit.

But that hadn’t been enough, and now here he was, half-sweating and half-hard, trying to make sure his cock didn’t brush up against you long enough for you to notice that you were playing more than just one game with him. While your strength didn’t match his own, it was your flexibility that made you competent enough to have even been thought to be put into a spar with him. You could twist yourself up and out of spaces most grown men would never think about, and it did give Ghost a bit more challenge trying to combat how hand-placements knowing you were about as slippery as fucking water. And without attempting a conventional tactic, you’d gotten yourself free of his legs and wrapped back around his back with one leg and an arm pulled in a headlock.

Ghost gave a frustrated sigh, feeling his air supply being hindered but not actually cut off. You’d misjudged his windpipe -probably due to the mask- and tightened down less than an inch away from perfect. It was a good counter move, but not lethal. And that was unacceptable. Hardly any force was needed to pry your arms from around your leg and literally throw you belly-down onto the mat, both arms pulled tight behind your back with his legs pinning yours down securely. You wiggled and jerked against him, ass brushing the base of his ever-present erection, and it forced him to let you go. For nothing more than the safety of his own pride and insurance that you would go another day without your Lieutenant’s perverse thoughts becoming known.

“I thought I had you that time,” You pant, coming up to sit on your knees across from him with a frustrated look pinching your eyebrows. “What did I do wrong?”

He had to give you credit, you were so damn teachable. Always asking questions and stopping in the middle of a fight to expect some kind of explanation instead of just learning through trial and error. Naturally, he’d been partial to ignoring you at first but when you wouldn’t engage after asking a question until he said something, he realized that there was no use. So, he did what he could do best. Teach by example.

Slow… example.

“Come here,” You got back up to your socked feet and walked right up to him, sweat clinging to the tip of your nose and dripping down the side of your neck. He had the insatiable urge to rip his mask up and lick that bead from your collarbone to the pulse point jumping under your skin.

With one hand he turned you around, your shoulders tight to his upper stomach and placed his forearm against your throat in the same way you’d done just a moment ago. It made things hard since his arm hardly fit in the gap to begin with, but he could feel you swallow easily, letting him know he’d found the correct angle.

“Your arm hit off to the side,” He tightened down just a little, feeling your body tense up as he began putting pressure over you. “When it should’ve been straight.” With the smallest adjustment, his left hand palmed the top of your head, holding you still while the bulk of his muscled, right forearm pressed flush against the right side of your throat, and his massive bicep flexing to apply pressure to the other side; forcing a hissing sound from your mouth.

Your little hands came up to grip his arms, not exactly pulling him away or fighting the pressure. Both hands curling around his And while he knew he shouldn’t actively be testing just how long you could go before passing out, Ghost found himself waiting patiently just to see what would happen under the stress. There for a split second, your muscles suddenly went slack and he honestly thought you’d already lost enough oxygen to faint. But when your fingers still pressing against the veins in his arm started slowly moving in a little wave of tapping motions, he was proved wrong.

Right away he remembered seeing you do it before. In the times your yoga practice was a little less than comfortable or you were actively trying to push yourself further than you’d gone before. Something like a little tell, or coping mechanism that allowed you to focus without exerting too much energy to something else outside of the main stimulus. Another little thing you did that Ghost found so much more interesting and downright strange about you. How clever you were doing things differently than everyone else.

“Alright, enough,” He let go and pushed his hand in the gap of your shoulders to put some pace between you.

You stumbled forwards, taking a gasp of breath and turning around to Ghost with a heavy flush settling in your cheeks and a bloodshot tint in the whites of your eyes. You brought a hand up to your neck where a faint outline of his own arm had pressed into you, your fingertips tracing the outline with a little bit of an embarrassed smile on your face.

“Any reason you didn’t fight back?” He questioned, flattening out his tone and looking at you with a pointed glare.

You shrug, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I… was trying to feel it. The pressure I mean, and see if I could resist you.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, trying to keep from barking out a laugh. He’d not even used his actual strength to apply pressure. It was nothing more than the literal bulk of his arm just fit against your throat. Hearing you think otherwise gave the Lieutenant a deep stroke to his ego, even giving his half-hard cock a good wave of stimulation as well. He couldn’t find it in himself to not give you correction though.

“You couldn’t resist it, kid.”

“Excuse me?” The offense you took surprised him. Ghost took a couple steps closer to you, settling his hands on his hips.

“You. Couldn’t. Stop. Me.” He punctuated his words with a flat, and uninterested tone to mask the sudden intrigue he had after actually managing to keep the thundering beat of his heart under control.

You, with your calm demeanor. Patience beyond humanity. Body from his own wet dreams… A better man would’ve known how to stay away from you and ignore the desires to bend you to his own will. A good man would be like Gaz. Train you with only your best interests in mind. Develop your weaknesses without thinking of all the ways he could use them against you in the most twisted and deprived ways. Learn your body and train it to be even more dangerous than it already was. Not spend every second during sparring using it as an opportunity to have you under him or wrapped up in his arms so tight you couldn’t get away.

“Looks like you can’t stop yourself, L.T.,” You answer with a confidence and direct stare directly at his belt.

The remembrance of his cock straining against his pants became much more significant that his own comfort and control in that moment. Halting all thoughts aside from the way your eyes swirled with unspoken questions and plenty of ideas forming that Ghost didn’t nearly have the ability to respond to. A cold rush of panic spread through his body, and he immediately turned his back to you, spitting out some kind of dismissal as soon as her could manage it.

“We’re done today, go get cleaned up.”

Later that day, you’d not seen a single glimpse of Ghost. You’d not really meant anything mean by the mention of his… excitement, while training. It was understandable, seeing as you’d both been quite close and in very vulnerable positions that could easily skew anyones mind past the straight and narrow. You’d be lying if there weren’t times that you thought about the different ways your body could be really manhandled by your Lieutenant. He was undeniably attractive with his gruff voice and often bitter character. It made Ghost who you knew, and while you knew most people wouldn’t understand, you felt comfortable and safe around him.

Even when you felt his erection pressing against you while teaching you how to defend yourself in close combat. That whole ordeal was in the forefront of your mind in such a significant way that even Soap noticed it while you were putting together some dinner for the pair of you. Nothing special, just some pasta and chicken, but you’d nearly boiled over the pot of spaghetti twice now, and the Sergeant wasn’t so oblivious to not notice.

“You good?” He nudged you, taking the spoon from your hand and scooting you out of the way politely as to take over the cooking while you had such a hard time focusing. You’re slow to respond, still a little stuck trying to sort through your own feelings and the attempts to sort through what had happened, if it was your fault, and how in hell you were going to try and make an apology for overstepping bounds.

“Um… I have a question,” You speak up, wrapping your arms around yourself and watching Soap stir the chicken in the skillet.

“If you were sparring with a girl… and you got hard, does that mean you’re into her?”

You felt like a high school girl gossiping with her friends about how to tell if guys were crushing on you. Such a stupid question would’ve gotten you in a lot of trouble if you’d asked anyone other than Soap. Johnny looks over at you, a smirk on his face and his eyes alight with mischief. He turns around and leans against the counter with his lower back resting there causally, glancing around the kitchen and living area to see if anyone was around before answering you.

“Well lass, I can’t be sure of nothin’ more than theory…” He rubs a hand over the short and scratchy stubble growing out on his cheek. “But, if I really liked her, yeah… I’d probably get a little excited doin’ somethin’ like that.”

The topic falls into a somewhat comfortable silence after that; Allowing you to eat you dinner on the couch, stewing over not just the sight of Ghost standing right in front of you, obviously turned on in some way or another as well as Soap’s -unknowing- confirmation. Therefore by the end of your pasta, after a long stint of attempting to read a book, and debating if you’d just fucked up a very important relationship within your squad, you found yourself getting changed into some comfortable clothes and heading back down to the gym.

You didn’t bother warming up with a jog, or any real kind of strength training. You needed some kind of way to focus, and yoga was the only surefire way to shut out any other thoughts. There was just enough dedication required to work through poses correctly, that after less than ten minutes of gentle flow you’d lost a lot of the edge cutting into your peace of mind over Ghost. You’d been working on extending your ability to remain in Kapila pose, and got almost two minutes over your record when you heard the door to the gym snick open, followed by heavy footsteps walking past you towards the weight rack.

It was nearly one in the morning. No one looked for a hard workout this late night other than your Lieutenant, and he was the last person you wanted to face right now. Fuck… he was the whole reason you were pushing your limits right now, nearly reaching into the painful edge of stretches just to force your breathing and mind onto the center of balance and exertion. With your face mere inches away from the ground, sweat drips off your nose onto the mat you’re sitting on and makes a quarter-sized puddle by the time you’ve finally felt like you’ve held to pose long enough. Your flow lead you into Compass pose next, beginning the opposite leg and physically guiding yourself into a position meant for nothing more than to release tension lingering in your body. It takes a while to feel your joints and tendons finally giving up to the stress in your mind, making the hold on your foot behind your head more manageable.

It’s around that time you begin hearing the sounds of squat plates clacking against each other alongside the rich and room-filling sounds of Ghost’s quiet grunts and groans. Resisting the strong desire to imagine what his legs look like, flexing under the weight of the bar. Using massive thighs and such explosive power to push the multiple hundred pounds he’s holding over his shoulders over twenty times for racking the weight. It’s all in the sounds you can’t ignore due to forgetting your headphones. Damning you to an onslaught of delicious sounds that would’ve fell on deaf ears anywhere else on base. Overshadowing the tinges of pain in your body with the commanding nature of the Lieutenant even when he wasn’t seeking it out.

You spent nearly an entire half hour trying not to put too much weight on Ghost’s presence, working at this point just to get through your flow without drawing too much attention to yourself, or giving any reason for Ghost to say anything to you. You’d not prepared anything in the way of an apology, and you couldn’t begin to formulate one with clanking metal and his suggestive sounds filling your ears. Maddening… downright sinful in nature. Enough to make any woman squirm. And fuck were you utterly terrified that you’d chosen to wear such light colored grey leggings, because if you’d move in just the right way, the dampness growing there would be painfully obvious.

In a headstand, choosing it for nothing more than your confidence in it, you’d closed your eyes and started tapping on the mat with your fingers. Picturing your own spine and tying a string to it, using that thin string to draw your vertebrae straight and tall, lengthening your entire body and deepening your breaths. You nearly fell flat on your face when you feel fingers graze the back of your knee and tease over your calf. The wiggle in your concentration stacks your weight over your head and forearms on the floor and pitches you towards the ground.

Right away, an arm wraps around your hips and swipes you off your own control and kept you from falling to the ground. Instead of hitting your mat or the concrete you had your eyes on, you feel nothing short of muscle and stocky build pressed against the entire backside of your body as Ghost holds you upside down not unlike a sack of flour or a sniper rifle. The back of your head hits against his lower leg and you grunt a little, taken by surprise and once again finding yourself at the mercy of Ghost’s strength alone. You’re about to speak up, and are cut short by the Lieutenant literally spinning you right-side up with his free arm, holding you eye-level with him.

“Distracted?” His eyebrow raises above the cut out of his -much thinner- almost athletic mask missing the trademark skull painted on it. His hand palming your ass felt like it was branding the skin under your leggings, leaving you speechless and hanging on nothing more than the sounds of his breaths hissing through the mask.

“You… you spooked me,” You mutter, one hand bracing on his shoulder and the other somewhere on his chest… you couldn’t quite gather enough spacial awareness to connect the dots. “Made me jump is all.”

Ghost chuckled, “Spooked you?” Even his tone was mocking of the ridiculous idea you knew was so full of holes, it wouldn’t hold water. “Touching you s’enough?”

Looking down at your body pressed against his; the direct contrast of your cream colored knit sweater and his tight-fitting black shirt, the embarrassingly long distance between your feet and the floor. Everything about this meeting with Ghost was so far different than when you met on level ground in the sparring room. Then, you both knew the intentions. How to work around each other and how to go about pushing the right buttons. But now… you weren’t even close to feeling like having any power, and you were certain that the Lieutenant could feel it radiating off of you.

“Maybe it is.” Replying back, you feel his fingers dig a little into the flesh of your ass a little harder.

“Maybe its not what I’ve done that’s bothering you… but what you’ve been thinking about,” He challenged you back, looking over at the mat you’d been using. “Why you came here, pushing so hard… Ignoring me.”

All the air in your lungs evacuated when he so accurately saw right through your skull and into the deep recesses of your head. Enough that you were nodding your head just enough for Ghost to let out something of and amused kind of sound. Short of real laugher, but not nearly enough to call it a breath. Either way, there was no hiding now. You admitted it right to his face, looking deep in those dark eyes with a level of intensity you had never seen from him before.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s in your little head?”

You hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Should you admit that you were hungry for more about his thoughts on you? Or just admit that you’d been struggling all even with the guilt of enjoying the thought of him lusting over you and having the power to call him out over it? So many ideas popped into your head, spinning it around so quickly that y the time you spit out an answer, you were already in the changing rooms in the back of the gym; Ghost carrying you towards the counter with a mirror. He sat you down on it, slotting his hips between your spread thighs and rubbing those massive hands up your thighs like he was savoring the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his touch.

“C’mon. That was an order, soldier.” He pressed, actually pinching at the creases of your thighs made all the more defined with you sitting. “D’you have somethin’ you want to ask me? About training earlier…”

You gasped softly, twitching when his fingertips traced over the indentions in your thighs marking dimples and other imperfections that you would’ve loved to go unnoticed by his wandering hands curling around your hips and back towards your ass again, sliding you flush against his chest. Forcing you to visualize the heavier rise and fall of his chest, shadows defining the valley between his pecs and the heartbreakingly gorgeous width of his shoulders caging you in. Masterfully, this man was drawing words out of you in such a confident and almost inescapable seduction. Yet the only question you’d been struggling with was answered with nothing more than the soothing voice and teasing touch of a man who had you wrapped around his finger.

“Hmm, no questions?” His head tilted a bit, seeing you so flustered over nothing than a couple little touches.

Enjoying nothing more than how you looked at him so surprised and innocent, despite knowing just how fucking turned on you were after spotting the totally soaked crotch of your leggings after approaching you during your headstand. Unable to resist you any longer, Ghost tipped your chin up a bit to meet his gaze and purposefully softened it. Wanting to ease you into this a little more, humming lowly when your pretty lips curled into a sweet smile. Letting your head rest in his hold with every ounce of trust you showed in the field and one the mats during conditioning.

“I have a question for you. Did you like it…? Seeing me standing there with a hard cock, knowing you were the sole reason for it.” He traced his finger down the bridge of your nose gently.

“How does it make you feel inside, knowing I want to feel every inch of you. Taste your screams of my name and the slick dripping out of your cunt onto those fucking leggings you’re wearing.”

“F-felt… good,” You sputter, face flaring brightly. “Liked it a lot.”

His hands kneading harshly at your ass quickly came up to the high waist of your leggings and tugged, hard. Breaking stitches and even tearing the material on one side as he pulled those skin-tight leggings off your legs; Growling deep in his chest when the sheen of your arousal spread on your skin under the florescent light. You held on to his shoulders, helping him just enough to make sure he didn’t totally ruin your bottoms.

“I knew you did,” He snarled, throwing your pants behind him and giving you a very clear smile from behind his mask. “Such a good solider, too bad she’s a dirty little slut for her Lieutenant’s cock.”

You could help the guttural moan you let out when his fingers dipped between the slick folds of your pussy and so very gently rubbed over your swollen clit. Using his hips to keep your thighs from locking his hand into place. Ghost was as calm and collected as ever, giving you an almost placating look as you squirmed and fought between the desire to back away from the sudden intense stimulation and the desire for more. His other hand held your chin steady, tutting at you like he was disappointed when you bit your lip to try and muffle the sounds of pleasure he was giving you.

“No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He pinched your clit, making you yelp loudly and squeeze your thighs against him until they shook. “You’ll sit there and let me play with you until i’m finished, okay?” Ghost actually nodded your head up and down for you. “That means I hear every fucking sound, because they’re all mine.”

You couldn’t remember how many times you came around Ghost’s fingers before the entire countertop you sat on was pooling with your cum. Feeling it stick to your skin and the wet sensation of his mask dragging over your body as he licked and bit at your skin until the pain melted into such overwhelming ecstasy that you couldn’t hold your upper body of your own strength. You’d slumped your forehead against his chest, blabbering utter nonsense and struggling to manage just how Ghost could expertly play your body to his own desires. With a swollen and exhausted cunt still clenching around his fingers, you were being lifted off the counter and up into Ghost’s arms with the hot and thick head of his dick teasing your dripping hole.

“G-Ghost… can’t take it. Can’t take more,” You groan, clawing at his shoulders and back as he gently rolls his hips just enough to give you a taste of what he was about to stretch you out with.

“Oh yeah you can…” His breathless chuckle made your stomach churn. “You can. And you will, because I need you to come around my dick.”

In one fatal movement, you were speared onto Ghost’s cock down to the base. Crying out his name as your walls spasmed to adjust in time. Adjusting his hold on your body, the flexibility he’d lusted over while watching you worked to his advantage as he held you by your thighs, dropping your pussy back down over him. Releasing the first of many wet, sucking sounds that earned you such a deep moan of your own name that you impossibly tightened around him.

“Thaaatt’s ittt,” His punched-out praise only urged you on, creating deeper and more unavoidable desire to please him. “Such a good fuckin’ slut. Dripping down my balls… fuucck. You’re gonna make me come.”

The idea of Ghost filling you with his hot release poured hot, honeyed feelings of pleasure. You couldn’t believe there was a feeling such as deeply effecting as this. The shocking weakness in which you felt completely absorbed in to the point that you saw past the rough exterior Ghost was presenting, and understood that he wasn’t taking with your physical self, but everything else that you could offer him. Closeness, support, trust beyond what others had given… maybe even love. Sex hadn’t felt like this before. Especially the filthy way Ghost was fucking his cock up into you so deeply your cervix was curving to mold around his tip. But the connection was there and so strong that your heart was burning in your chest.

“Doin’ so good…” He murmured, wet mask brushing against your cheek and fanning damp breaths over your sensitive skin. “God m’gonna keep you right here forever,” He groaned, biting at your cheek through his mask. “My little toy. Let me make you feel good…”

That wetness in your bright eyes as you nodded up at him, whimpering broken pleads and begs for him to do it. To claim you… fill you up over and over. Never spend another day without Ghost either right next to you, or his semen dripping out of you as a reminder that you’ve been possessed by such a powerful and commanding man that would stop at nothing to drive you out of your mind with pleasure. Such intense emotional and physical feelings that sent you careening over the edge of a earth-shattering orgasm that left you quite literally screaming out his name at the top of your lungs, feeling a heavy pressure in your lower stomach break. Clamping down on Ghost’s cock and feeling overwhelming wetness soaking his pelvis and dripping down onto the floor in a gush of splatters.

“Shhiitt!” Ghost shouted out your name, stuffing his cock as deeply inside you as he could.

Feeling jets of his release flooding your pussy and overflowing the tight space until it rolled down your inner thighs in thick pearl rivulets. His hips rocked against yours, stuttering as they grew weak and his cock overstimulating against the texture and tightness. Right away the bruising grip on your ass and thighs loosened, and on unsteady legs Ghost moved you both back towards the counter and reluctantly drew himself out of you with a hiss. Too fucked out to even respond in a noticeable way, you just kept your weakened legs and arms wrapped as tightly around him as you could. Shivering with aftershocks of nearly-fried nerves and overworked muscles.

You were cradled against Ghost’s chest, with both arms protecting your body. His head resting atop yours, listening to your breaths and feeling the way you began to slowly wind down, made that much easier by his fingers trailing up and down your spine and whispered praise scratching an itch deep in your heart and brain. He was taken by you, so small and made that much smaller with nothing but that soft sweater covering your form and the little hands you’d fisted into his shirt. So pretty, and if it wasn’t for seeing your skills as a soldier, he’d think you were as breakable as a hand painted, porcelain teacup.

Duty to protect and provide washed over Ghost. So strongly that even the small chills rising on your legs were distressing him beyond what would’ve felt acceptable. He wanted you warm and feeling safe with him after taking so much for so long that you could hardly hold your own head up. Moving you again to his quarters was his next task, and he very quickly had you gathered up in his arms and the large towel you’d brought to the gym draped over your bottom half so that neither of you would have to fuss with the wet leggings that had been unintentionally soaked by your final orgasm. Ghost didn’t even bother picking them up off the floor since the right side had been ripped apart beyond repair or wearing again. Mentally, he already had plans on replacing them.

But there would be a lot of things that changed sooner than later.

He’d done everything to stay away. Pretend that he didn’t want you deep in his very bones, and ignore how heavy of a struggle it became to deny simple closeness to another human being that meant more than a cooperating operator. You would be nothing less than his sole purpose in working for. Ensuring you had everything you needed and more than you could ever ask for. He’d take nothing you gave for granted, including the total control of your body for him tonight. And he’d be certain that the next time he touched you… he would do it the right way instead of allowing the desperate side of him to try and swallow you whole. You deserved more than a rough and dominating man. And he wasn’t sure how to even go about becoming something he’d long abandoned for no other reason than survival.

But fuck if he’d be damned if he didn’t dedicate the rest of his life trying.

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[whorefordean]

one more || d.w

wc: 1.2k

tw: pwp, fem!reader, fingering, pet names(sweetheart, baby, honey)

a/n: i just have dean brain rot constantly so pls enjoy

you can feel dean’s warm breath fanning your neck as his chin rests against your shoulder while he focuses on his hand between your thighs. his chest is warm against your back. in his hurry to get you spread out for him, dean had neglected to fully remove his clothes, leaving him only shirtless while stilling wearing his sweats from the lazy day you’d been enjoying. you, on the other hand, were completed naked as you pressed against him, writhing against his touch.

one of his hands is playing with your wet little cunt while he’s just gripping your thigh with the other, trying to keep you spread wide open for him to play with.

you’ve got a tight grip on his forearm, trying to get him to just give you a break for a second while your other hand is gripping two of his fingers resting on your thigh, and all you can do is whimper and moan and cry bc it just feels so good.

“mm, can’t take it anymore. ‘m too sensitive, dean,” you tell dean as he continues to play with your wetness. you’d come twice already because dean had a bad day and needed you to make it better, he had told you. you’d been more than happy to make him feel good, but dean had other plans that consisted of slight torture, you’re beginning to think.

“breathe, honey. look at you doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he keeps praising while he keeps rubbing circles on your aching clit.

he just keeps kissing on your neck and your shoulder, and you can’t stop the little gasps and moans that escape you and finally. finally. he’s shoving two of his thick fingers into your leaking pussy.

"that's it, sweetheart. feels good, huh? come on, baby. let go for me," dean's muttering into your ear a few minutes later, causing you to moan. his fingers are hitting so deep inside your wet cunt, and you can't even focus on anything else.

"please!" you whine out, clenching your eyes closed while trying to squeeze your thighs together. you twist against him to bury your face in his chest. your wiggling causes dean to grip your thigh tighter, keeping you spread open for him, pussy on display. you grip his hands, trying to pull him off, but he's just too strong.

"dean,” you whine, dragging out his name. your words are muffled against his bare chest. one of your hands tangle into dean’s hair. you can feel his chest rumble beneath your cheek as you tug on his hair. his groans echo throughout the room, and his eyes close momentarily in pleasure against your grip.

“be a good girl, and come for me. just one more, sweetheart,” dean commands once more. his voice is low in your ear causing something to stir inside you. as quickly as he speaks the words, you’re shaking beneath him. with your eyes still clenched shut, you release your grip on his hair as your hands shoot out to push his away from your body.

your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you scoot away from dean. you don’t make it far before dean is pulling you into him, the slightest smirk resting on his face. you gasp as the waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. you feel dazed, like your brain is foggy, as you try to calm back down.

“breathe for me, baby,” dean is muttering into your ear. you can feel his hands running through your hair as his hands slowly slip back down your body.

“dean, no more! i can’t,” you pout as you lean back into him, holding his arms lightly. dean’s hands rub against your thighs gently.

“no more, baby,” you can feel him chuckle under you, and you finally relax completely against him. dean continues to rub your sore thighs, though his hands travel over the expanse of your entire body. his fingers dig into your soft flesh causing you to let out a content sigh. your eyes are heavy as dean continues.

“m sleepy, dean,” you mumble. dean presses a series of soft kisses to your shoulder before responding.

“i know, sweetheart. gotta clean you up though,” he answers sweetly. you pout at him causing him to laugh slightly before kissing your lips. you kiss him back lazily before he pulls away.

“be a good girl for me one more time tonight, then i’ll let you sleep,” dean tells you. it doesn’t take much convincing to get you to lean forward enough for him to slip out from behind you. you lay back where he had been sitting, curling up as you wait for him to come back.

dean’s footsteps fade as he leaves the room to run a bath. you lay there with your eyes closed as you start dozing. a few minutes later, dean slips back into the room. he’s crouched in front of you, running a warm hand across your face. you open your eyes to see him smiling at you slightly.

“there she is,” dean mumbles when you smile up at him. you slowly sit up, painfully aware of the ache between your legs. dean pats your thigh softly before he stands, reaching out to pull you into his arms. his hands slip under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist. you head rests against his solid shoulder as a lazy smile plays on your lips.

as dean carries you to the bathroom, you kiss his shoulder softly. dean gently places you onto the ground once the two of you enter the bathroom. you smile up at him sweetly as he undresses then directs you into the tub. he steps in first, grabbing your hand to help you into the warm water. he sits down while pulling you to sit in front of him with your back flush against his chest. though you’re in the same position as you were earlier with him, dean’s touch is softer now. his hands are soft against your wet skin, and dean’s arms wrap around your belly partially covering your exposed boobs.

eventually, dean washes your body carefully and once the water goes cold, the two of you get out. dean wraps a fluffy towel around you before wrapping one around his waist. once you get back to your room, dean helps to dry you off before slipping one of his shirts over your head. you sit in the chair across the room, watching as he quickly gets dressed.

you watch dean in confusion as he starts tossing the pillows onto the floor.

“what are you doing?” you mumble sleepily wishing he’d let you lay down. dean looks up at you to meet your gaze.

“i understand that you’re tired but if i let you sleep on dirty sheets, you’re gonna yell at me tomorrow,” dean says with a straight face. you look at him for a moment before nodding with a slight shrug. fair enough. dean finally finishes and motions to the bed. you comply easily and flop down on dean’s side. he shakes his head at you before scooting you over just enough to lay down. once he’s comfortable enough, dean pulls your body onto his. the two of you settle into a peaceful silence in each others embrace.

[octoberautumnbox]

A Little Goes a Long Way

fromis_9 Roh Jisun & all the other frommies :DDDD

Categories: fluff, cooking, really light blood but it shouldnt be too big of an issue

Word count: 1.0k

a/n: prompt by @msafterhours!! im actually a dumbass bc i got the prompt completely wrong lmao but here yall go!! oki i hiatus again byeee

It’s something about the manner in which the knife cuts through meat and muscle–something about how things come together in the pot that makes Jisun happy as can be. Home isn’t home, she’d think, when the kitchen hasn’t got windows that rays of sun enter through on warm mornings, or when the cupboards and cabinets aren’t stocked for visiting friends or midnight snacks. There’s a romance, a magic, a unique rightness in a home where one cooks for both body and soul. 

“Good girl,” she muses, finding the beef sitting in a basin of water on the countertop, “can always count on Jiheonnie.” She replaces the now-cool water with a new pool fresh from the tap, before gathering the rest of the ingredients and getting to work. 

Jisun opens door after door of cupboards, taking out each of the rest of the ingredients in turn: green and brown onions, sesame seeds and sesame oil, sugar and salt, garlic and ginger, red and black pepper. Cute, she thought, that each had a partner. 

The sun watches intently from the other side of the window, filling her kitchen with a calming warmth you'd scarcely find anywhere else. The clouds rein in the too-intrusive rays, while specks of pollen merrily dance across the glass pane. With her celestial audience on the edge of their seats, she gets to work. 

“Yeah it's you, yeah it's you,” Jisun hums under her breath. She measures out each portion carefully, transferring them into tiny bowls that matched colors and handles and rims. It must be something in her bones today, how her step is sprightly and her fingers reach and flex with less poignancy than she's used to. 

It isn't long before she thinks back, a green onion steady between the countertop and her left hand while a knife is secure in her right, that she remembers when Jiwon held them wrong and almost cut her finger open. She recalls Hayoung slicing peppers, followed by onions, rubbing her eyes in between every couple of strokes to push away persistent tears that never seemed to run out. She smiles at the memory of Jiheon not knowing solid and liquid measuring cups were different, and the resultant cake falling flatter and growing firmer than their beloved maknae had liked. 

Her lip finds itself between her teeth, thinking “Good thing they have me,” as the once-long stalk of green onion grows shorter and shorter. “What would they do without me?”

And yet, it was nothing compared to the contrary. It waltzes to the front of her mind, amidst draining the thawed beef of its former frost, how Saerom put her arm under her after a particularly rough day of practice. It shone like the sun, as Jisun mixes the paste, how Seoyeon talked her ear off when Jisun had run out of things to say. The rush of fondness fills her chest remembering how Nagyung complained when Jisun saw herself in the mirror and frowned at the reflection, all the while she works the marinade into the meat.

As she places each strip into the smoking wok, Chaeyoung enters her mind, the same way Chaeyoung entered the practice room in the baggiest pants Jisun had ever seen, only to pull out a Melona for them to share with their backs against the CCTVs. The scent and symphony of sizzling meat fills her kitchen with a profound sense of melancholy, remembering walking with Gyuri one morning before the sun rose, just one lap around the building, and yet it so happened that it was enough to share four years’ worth of troubles with each other. 

She tips the wok over a respectfully waiting plate. The meat steams and settles onto the surface, expelling the tensions of the stove and relaxing into a Jisun-like state.  The green onions fall predictably onto the food, meeting nooks and crannies in the meat with attention that welcomes a tongue seeking solace in homemade comfort. A final touch, Jisun thought, to finish the job, to give the palate something to want to come home to the next time it wanders out into the wide, wonderful world: just a drizzling of honey– not too much, certainly not too little. The viscous liquid spreads all over the dish, sending its enticingness to new heights and bringing the delicacy together. 

At last, her meal is nearly complete. Jisun sets it on the dining table, right in the center of the square wooden surface. She admires it for a moment, the hard work of the past half hour lost on the world but not on her, before she clears her throat to finally, fully, completely allow herself to enjoy the fruits of her labor…

“Girls, time to eat!” She then counts silently, one, two, three– frantic footsteps grow louder and louder until Jiwon and Hayoung come crashing into the room. They both shriek, “I want to sit next to Jisun!” It makes her giggle, just as much as seeing Seoyeon and Jiheon holding hands and walking in step towards the table themselves. Nagyung and Chaeyoung follow, still glued to Nagyung's phone as Chaeyoung points to the screen, “That's the guy I was telling you about,” before they take a seat across from her. 

Jisun takes a deep breath, waiting for one more, and it comes in the form of a comforting hand on her shoulder and a pat on her hair. “Thank you, Jisun,” Saerom whispers with nothing but love in her voice. Her leader takes a piece of the meat and makes a show of eating it, and it's almost comical how much she overreacts. “Holy shit, this is delicious–” Saerom mutters, her hand over her mouth. 

Nagyung pipes up, “Thank you, Jisun-unnie,” prompting a slew of variations from each other member at the table, until a cacophony of gratitude fills Jisun's ears. The warmth of their love spreads through her body, filling her with gratitude of her own.

“You're welcome, girls. Eat well,” she says, as she finally takes a piece of meat for her own, giddy in the anticipation of knowing that it'll be one of the most delicious bites of food she'll ever have. 

[willowsnook]

orange is my favorite color (18+)

Can i get a ham, Swiss, lettuce, mikes way on a gluten free? from @a-beaverhausen

reader x joe burrow x oscar piastri

just let me in

a/n: I’m going to make it to where she’s a stranger to Oscar but not Joe bc it makes more sense for what I’m thinking. also these are my two worlds colliding so it makes me very happy

———————————————————-

The warm Austin air blew through your hair as you made it to the track for COTA, and while you had been to almost every sporting event known to man, this was your first F1 race, and you were excited.

When you and your sister started a podcast a couple of years ago, never in your wildest dreams did you think it would take off like it had. Now, you were an official Barstool Sports podcast and had the opportunity to interview tons of female athletes worldwide. Even though your podcast was geared towards female listeners, you still built relationships with male athletes who supported what you were doing.

“They really just let anyone in here these days don’t they?” You heard a familiar voice call out and turned, smirking, to see Joe Burrow grinning at you. Joe was one of the professional athletes who had been a big supporter of the pod, and you had interviewed him enough times to consider him a friend. He flirted relentlessly with you and you entertained it for the most part but never let it get further than words.

“Hi Joey,” you said, sauntering up to him. He was standing with two other guys who you quickly recognized as Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.

“Guys, this is y/n,” he introduced. “She has a popular sports podcast here.”

You smiled warmly at the two men and they mirrored you.

“I’ve listened a couple of times,” Lando said and you were surprised. “You should talk to Susie Wolf.”

Nodding, you replied, “yeah that is actually on my to do list while I’m here.”

“Is this your first race?” Oscar asked, and you nodded, and a small smile appeared on his face.

You hung around with them for the next half hour, Lando talking your ear off about different F1 things while Oscar chimed in occasionally, but his eyes never left you, making you almost squirm. There was something about him that was so attractive. The calm, quiet demeanor was an interesting contrast from his teammate, but you were into it.

As the group chatted, you couldn't help but steal glances at Oscar. His piercing gaze made your heart race every time your eyes met. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost missed Joe's invitation.

"Hey, y/n, we're heading to the paddock. Want to come along?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, if that’s okay? you replied unsure.

Lando chimed in, "Of course! We'll vouch for you. Plus, it'll give you a chance to maybe set up that interview with Susie."

You nodded eagerly, and the group started moving towards the paddock area. As you walked, Oscar fell into step beside you.

"So, what made you decide to come to your first F1 race?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

"Well, I was invited by the official F1 marketing team. They are really trying to grow interest in the sport in the US, and I have a large audience of people already interested in sports,” you explained. “But I got into it a few years ago after watching the Netflix show. Just haven’t had the time to make it to a race yet.”

Oscar nodded as you talked, and as you headed into a more crowded area, he tugged you into his side so that you wouldn’t get lost. His hand was warm against your waist, and you tried to contain your blush.

“So, since you’re hanging with us, can I assume you are a McLaren fan?” He asked and you smirked as you shook your head.

“RedBull all the way baby,” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have to fix that,” he muttered. You made it to the garage, and Oscar was pulled away quickly, so you settled into the atmosphere with Joe.

“Having fun?” He asked and you nodded, watching the garage as it came to life.

“Not as much fun as being at a football game but still fun,” you said with a smile and he threw back his head to laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you felt your stomach flutter at his words. His eyes were mischievous as he noted your reaction and you quickly averted your eyes. “I think our shade of orange looks better on you, though.”

“Oh yeah?,” you teased, smiling.

“Yeah, this shade makes you look pale,” he said, and you laughed loudly. The garage was getting busier, and you were standing very close to Joe as you tried to stay out of the way. Someone tried to move behind you, causing you to take another step closer to him, which he wasn’t complaining about.

“Here, I know you want to watch,” he whispered before shifting you to turn around. Your back rested against his chest, and you stiffened as you felt his arm wrap around your waist, holding you to him. His fingers were subconsciously tracing your skin as he watched the mechanics work.

Oscar appeared at your side again, his eyes darting between you and Joe with a hint of curiosity.

"Sorry to interrupt," Oscar said, his accent making your heart skip a beat. "But I thought you might like a closer look at the car. It's not every day you get to see one up close."

You nodded eagerly, and he began to guide you through the space, explaining the different parts of the car and the various roles of the team members. His passion for the sport was evident in the way he spoke, and you found yourself hanging on his every word.

As you moved around the garage, you noticed Joe watching you and Oscar with a hint of something in his eyes. Jealousy, perhaps? You pushed the thought aside, focusing on Oscar's explanations. He was easy to talk to and you enjoyed the behind the scenes tour you were getting.

Eventually, it was time for the race, and you rejoined Joe, taking a pair of headphones from him and putting them on to watch. You had a good time, and it was exciting to be there for the action even though both McLaren drivers missed the podium. You hung around the paddock a little longer, chatting with other US athletes who were there and filming some content for a vlog.

By the time you made it back to the hotel, it was later in the evening, and you were starving. Heading towards the bistro in the lobby, you spotted someone waving at you from the corner of your eye. Oscar was sitting at a table by himself, eating dinner.

“Hey,” you said as you approached him.

“Hey,” he replied, “hungry?”

You sunk down into the chair across from him, stealing a menu from a nearby table.

“You did great today,” you praised and he shrugged.

“It was whatever,” he said neutrally. “No hardware to bring home.”

“Well I still thought it was impressive,” you said.

“That is all I was hoping for,” he said genuinely and you felt your cheeks warm at Oscar's words, a flutter of excitement in your stomach. The waiter came by to take your order, and as you chatted over dinner, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Oscar's quiet charm and dry wit.

"So, what's next for you after this race?" Oscar asked, taking a sip of his water.

"Well, I've got a few more interviews lined up here in Austin, then it's back to New York," you replied. "What about you? Where does F1 take you next?"

"Mexico City," he said with a small smile. "Not quite as glamorous as Austin, but should be a good race."

As you continued talking, you couldn't help but notice how easy conversation flowed between you two. Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the restaurant was starting to empty out.

"I should probably head up," you said reluctantly and Oscar stood up, holding out his hand to you.

“Let me walk you up,” he offered and you took his hand, letting him lead you towards the elevators. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you said looking over at him.

He paused for a second before asking. “Is there something going on between you and Joe?”

“Mutual attraction,” you answered amused. “Nothing has ever come of it, but we don’t see each other a ton.”

“So he wouldn’t be mad if I kissed you right now?” He asked, taking a step closer to you and you thanked god that you were alone in the elevator.

“He probably would,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t.”

That was all the confirmation he needed and he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. Exploring his mouth, you gasped as one of his hands gripped your ass right as he bit down on your bottom lip. The doors opened as you reached your floor, and you dragged Oscar through the hall and to your room.

Swiping the card, the door swung open and Oscar was back on you in a minute.

As Oscar pressed you against the closed door, his lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you let out a soft moan. The heat between you was palpable, months of tension finally breaking.

Oscar's hands roamed your body, caressing every curve as he kissed you deeply. You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head before capturing your lips again.

You pushed off the door, guiding Oscar towards the bed without breaking the kiss. As the back of his legs hit the mattress, he sat down, pulling you onto his lap. You straddled him, grinding your hips against his as his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, his accent thick with desire.

"More than okay," you breathed and he lifted your shirt over your head and he attached his mouth to the top of your chest, sucking harshly to mark you. Just as your fingers traveled down to his waistband, someone knocked on the door filled the room. You pulled back from Oscar, hoping that the person would just go away, but they didn’t.

“I’ll be back,” you muttered, sliding off his lap. Not bothering with a shirt you yanked the door open, irritated. You did not expect to see Joe Burrow standing there.

His eyes darkened as he took in the state you were in, no shirt, flushed lips, messy hair.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner but clearly you are busy,” he said coldly and you flinched.

“Clearly,” you retorted, and his lips pressed into a firm line. Just as you were about to shut the door, you heard Oscar coming up behind you. It felt like the room temperature dropped another 10 degrees with the icy look that crossed Joe’s face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he bit out and you rolled your eyes.

“This is not any of your business,” you said.

“Are you just not into me?” He whined. “I thought we had something, but all he had to do was talk with his pretty little accent, and you dropped your panties.”

Oscar snorted from behind you as you tried to hold back a giggle.

“You know I have a thing for you,” you said as you looked into his sad puppy dog eyes. “It’s just complicated with you.”

“How?” He demanded.

“We run in a lot of the same circles professionally,” you said. “Oscar is rarely even in the US so very no strings attached.”

“I don’t like it,” Joe said crossing his arms.

“Just let him in,” Oscar said from behind you and you looked over your shoulder, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Let him in, I don’t mind sharing,” he said nonchalantly before turning to move back to the bed.

You stood there, stunned for a moment, trying to process Oscar's words. Joe's expression shifted from anger to surprise, then to a mix of curiosity and desire.

"Are you serious?" Joe asked, his voice low and husky.

You looked back at Oscar, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark with want. He gave a small nod, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications. The thought of being with both of them sent a jolt of excitement through your body. You bit your lip, weighing your options for a split second before making a decision.

"Come in," you said to Joe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving yours as you closed the door behind him. The tension in the air was palpable as you stood between the two men, feeling their heated gazes on your half naked body.

You could feel the electricity in the air as Joe slowly walked towards you. You were caught between two dangerously attractive men, and the thought made your heart race.

Oscar watched with a smirk on his face as Joe stood in front of you, his eyes raking over your body. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer for a kiss.

His lips were soft but urgent against yours, his tongue quickly seeking entrance into your mouth. You responded eagerly, losing yourself in the passionate kiss.

"Isn't this nice?" Oscar's voice interrupted from behind you, making both you and Joe jump. He chuckled at your reaction before moving closer to join in on the kiss.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of two sets of lips on yours at once, their hands roaming over every inch of your body.

You moaned against Oscar's lips as Joe's hand found its way under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pushed you back towards the bed.

You fell onto the soft mattress with Joe on top of you, his hands eagerly exploring every inch of your body as he kissed down your neck and chest.

Meanwhile, Oscar had stripped off his clothes and was now standing by the edge of the bed, watching with a lustful gaze.

Joe looked up at him and smirked before leaning back to whisper into your ear. "Do you want him too?"

You nodded eagerly as he moved to sit behind you leaving room for Oscar between your legs. Oscar fell down to his knees and helped you get your pants off, pulling your panties down with them.

“So wet for us sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your thighs. You could feel Joe’s hardness pressing into your back as you leaned against him, whimpering as his fingers circled your nippled, his lips sucking on your neck. You cried out the first time Oscar flicked his tongue out and your hips bucked up, causing Joe to hold you down.

Your body was on fire as Oscar's tongue worked its magic between your thighs. Joe's hands roamed your body, teasing and caressing as he whispered dirty words in your ear. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear.

"That's it, baby," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. "Let us make you feel good."

Oscar's tongue circled your clit before moving deeper, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Joe's fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, sending jolts of electricity through your body. You could feel his hardness pressing against your back, reminding you of what was to come.

"Oh god," you gasped, your hands gripping Joe's thighs as you felt yourself getting close. "I'm gonna-"

"Come for us, sweetheart," Oscar encouraged, and that’s all you needed to push you over the edge, your body locked up as you rode out your orgasm. As you came down from your high, Joe slid out from under you, standing next to the bed.

“Flip over baby,” he said and you obeyed, moving on to your hands and knees. “I’m going to fuck your pretty pussy now while you make Oscar feel good okay?”

Oscar moved to the head of the bed, leaning against the back, all bared out for you. Moving closer to him, you looked to him for one last confirmation, and he nodded, pushing you to drag your tongue from his base all the way to his tip. He hissed at the contact, leaning his head back as he tried to control his breathing. You toyed with him, slowly moving your tongue around but not putting him in your mouth completely. You were about to start another cycle of it when you felt a hand yank your head back with your hair, Joe’s mouth next to your ear.

“Stop being a brat,” he growled and your core throbbed at his dominance. He let go of you, and you enveloped Oscar’s head with your lips, making him groan out. Hollowing your cheeks, you started to bob up and down, making sure to move your tongue around his cock. His hand found the back of your head as he bucked his hips into your mouth, his breathing growing heavy.

You were so caught up in Oscar that you temporarily forgot about Joe, until you felt him push entirely into you. You cried out around Oscar, causing him let out a loud groan.

“That’s it baby,” Joe praised breathlessly as he quickened his pace. “Taking us both so well.”

Your body was on fire as Joe pounded into you from behind, his strong hands gripping your hips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on pleasuring Oscar. But you were determined to make them both feel good.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking Oscar deeper into your mouth as you matched Joe's rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Joe groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight and wet for us."

Oscar's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he thrust shallowly into your mouth. "Fuck, y/n," Oscar groaned, his accent thick with desire. "Your mouth feels so good."

The dual sensations of being filled from both ends was overwhelming. You could feel yourself rapidly approaching another orgasm, and when Joe brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing rapid circles, you toppled over the edge. Your cries sent Oscar over the edge, and you swallowed the cum he spurt down your throat right as you clenched around Joe, causing him to spill into you.

Slumping down, you winced as Joe pulled out of you, and Oscar pulled you up into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” He asked softly and you gave him a weak smile.

“Never better.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” Joe said sweetly, kneeling next to you. Nodding, you let him scoop you into his arms and take you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, and Oscar followed you in. The shower barely fit the three of you, but you definitely weren’t complaining, just happy to be sandwiched between two of the hottest men you knew.

“Will you both stay?” You asked hopefully, and neither of them said anything for a minute, eyeing each other warily. “Please?”

Joe broke first, eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Of course baby.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, stepping out to get a towel for you.

Once you were wrapped up you looked between the two men smirking. “I think… that orange is my favorite color.”

[moonselune]

If your comfortable doing it, fem reader who's been nothing but kind and patient and supportive to everyone, revealing by accident they grew up in a abusive upbringing and it still affects them but they felt compared to everyone else's problems hers were minor and so not worth getting upset over. And of course everyone giving her some support this time

Oof this was hard to write, mainly bcs I'm not too good at writing serious angst, but I hope this is okay !

tw: abuse

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a rare, calm evening around the campfire. The group was in good spirits, sharing stories and laughter. You, ever the cheerful one, were in the midst of recounting a particularly funny tale from your past.

"…and that's when my father threw the table across the room because dinner was five minutes late. Good times, right?" you chuckled, the laughter trailing off as you noticed the sudden silence around the fire. The others stared at you, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Astarion was the first to speak, his usual playful smirk replaced with a serious look. "Did you just say your father threw a table at you?"

You blinked, realizing the gravity of what you had just let slip. "Oh, yeah. He had a bit of a temper. But, you know, it's in the past. No big deal."

Wyll leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "No big deal? That's… that's abuse. Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Karlach, her fiery nature tempered by concern, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, why keep something like that to yourself? We're your friends. We care about you."

Shadowheart's eyes were filled with empathy as she added, "You've always been so supportive and happy. I had no idea you were carrying this with you."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Everyone here has their own problems. I just didn't think mine were as bad as what some of you have been through. I didn't want to burden anyone."

Lae'zel looked at you uncharacteristically gently. "Strength is not only in battle but in sharing our burdens. You should not have faced this alone."

Minthara, her stern demeanor softened, nodded in agreement. Gale, ever the one with something to say, spoke up. "Pain is not a competition. Your experiences are valid, and they matter."

"We are a family here. We support each other, no matter the weight of our pasts." Halsin gave you a reassuring smile from across the fire.

Jaheira, who had seen much in her long life and was not terribley surprised by your admission, added with a soft yet firm tone, "You are not alone. We are here for you, just as you have always been here for us."

The weight of their words settled over you, a comforting warmth replacing the usual isolation you felt when thinking about your past. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability.

"Thank you, all of you," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I guess I just got used to hiding it. But it means a lot to know I have your support."

Karlach squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, her warm smile returning. "Anytime. You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not."

Astarion, his usual humor returning, gave you a wink. "And don't worry, we'll make sure to give you a hard time about it too. Can't have you getting too serious on us."

Laughter rippled through the group, the tension easing. The fire crackled warmly, and you felt a deep sense of belonging.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Crush

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Boss!Miguel x lab tech!reader

summary: You've got a crush on your boss. But it's harmless - doesn't mean anything. Until it does.

warnings: no warnings. just fluff :D

a/n: just a little something I wrote to take a break from the college au fic I'm writing. sweet and fluffy and happy bc I've put this poor guy through so much 😭

not proofread at all, my bad y'all

wc: 1.6k

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thinking about being Miguel's respite. His soft spot, a place to lay his head away from all the bullshit. you're not apart of the spider society, not strictly, just a technician that puts their head down and gets on with it. and sure, you've got a little crush on your boss, but who wouldn't? Miguel is smart, mostly calm, and surprisingly funny. whilst everyone cracks a smile at all the mile-a-minute jokes of the other spiderpeople; you find yourself laughing at all of your boss' little moments. dry, deadpan, humor - and he looks so, so good when he says it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You swoop in with the-" Peter B makes a swoosh sound, hand swiping across the air like a kid playing with toy planes. "And then I'll do a-" 

Thud. He brings his hand down to the table solidly, with some force. It makes the table shudder and your head pops up slightly from under a workstation, hiding a smile. With their backs turned, they don't notice you're there.

You've got a pair of pliers in one hand, and a mess of wires with the other. You don't see the both of them that often, preferring to squirrel yourself away in the labs, but you've been stuck here with system updates. Whilst you've drawn the short end of the straw, yet again, it doesn't feel like it; basking in the warmth of the two even from the opposite end of the room. 

Miguel gives him a look, eyebrow raised. Peter waits, expectantly. A beat passes. 

" Oh. Are you… is that the whole plan?" Poking ever so slightly out of the tangle of wires, you catch his facial expression and it makes you giggle. Fuck. You clamp your hand over your mouth and retreat back into the depths. 

Busying yourself with the work, you pretend not to hear them pad towards you. It doesn't last long, and you're met with Peter B's face: 5 o'clock shadow and a blinding smile. 

"Oh shit! You're the…. uhuhh… that technician that I…" He clicks his fingers towards you, calling out to Miguel. Embarrassed, you stand up, expecting a scolding. 

It doesn't come. Miguel says your name, and it surprises you. 

"They're not usually on this floor, though. Lab A118, right?" He turns to you, and you nod slowly. How… how does he know that? You can count the amount of times you've spoken to Miguel one-on-one on a single hand, and yet he can remember which lab you work in? There were dozens of labs, triple the amount of technicians, and even if he did-

" Great . You can tell Miguel it's a brilliant plan," Peter beams. 

"Uhhh…." Not knowing what to say, you fiddle with the pliers in hand. 

"You don't... You don't have to answer that."

"...she does if she thinks it's good, Miguel." He deadpans, and turns to you. "He'll fire you if you don't answer."

"¿ Qué carajo, Peter ? " He practically hisses. Hurriedly, he reassures you with a hand on your arm. His tone is warm, softer. " Seriously, you don't have to answer that."

Peter huffs, leading you to take a seat on the counter. And you do, as he pleads his case. 

The older man is animated, and the scene makes you laugh: Peter B in a robe and fuzzy slippers, telling a humble technician the intimate details of their mission. Miguel takes a seat next to you, thigh creeping closer to yours. You pretend not to notice, and focus on the man in front of you. 

"Our target is this freaky little guy-" 

"The Green Goblin." Miguel corrects

"Whatever. This freaky little guy from a medieval dimension. All hear ye, hear ye , and shit…. a freak with a bell on his hat and purple cape. Sounds simple enough, right?" 

"...right." Miguel answers, exasperated already. 

Peter makes the sound of a buzzer. " Wrong! His dimension is paper-based, meaning he's a slippery little shit otherwise. Doesn't adhere to our kind of physics," The man besides you prepares to interject, but is shut down by the wave of a hand. 

"More or less, Miguel, I don't care for the science - this guy is literally two-dimensional. So you ," Woosh. He makes the gesture from earlier on. "And I'll," Smack. He brings his hands together with distinct flair.

Your boss still has his brows drawn up in confusion, but something clicks for you. 

"Miguel….takes him from his blind spot," You copy the gesture, as they both watch. Miguel can see the cogs turning in your head, the little twitch of your lips and press of eyebrows. "...and you pin him down from above."

“Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I said!" He pumps his fist upwards, pulling you off the counter and into a bear hug. You're laughing, and you hear him from over your shoulder. "We stick him with a doohickey, and then he's jingling all the way back home. I'm a goddamn genius, aren't I?" 

Miguel scoffs, amused. It's a somewhat good plan, but he's even more surprised at you: half-strangled in the other man's arms, and smiling wide. 

When Peter finally releases you, with a sly middle finger to Miguel for good measure, he rushes off. He's…babbling on about how Jess is gonna love this , or something like that. 

You're left with Miguel, still on the counter, head cocked. He's looking towards the door, you think, until you meet his eyes and jump. They are a deep scarlet, framed by wispy lashes. Your boss is pretty; so, so pretty . Perhaps not the most appropriate thought, but it's all you can think about as he talks. 

"You speak Parker?" He says, and you laugh. It makes heat prickle in his chest. 

" No way, sir. I… I think that's a first for me." You put your hands up, shaking your head; the remnants of a giggle bubbling up. 

"Maybe you should be on strategy? I could… we could do with that kind of talent on the team." His face is steady, and unreadable. You swear you can see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it's hard to tell. He's rubbing at his neck, carding through the hair at his nape. 

He seems… shy, for some reason. 

"I'm flattered, sir, really. But I'm happy with what I do in research."

He hums, a strange expression on his face. He's on his feet now, getting a little closer to you. The pliers are in your hand, and he picks it up in his wide palms. Your hands are soft, he thinks. 

The action makes you hold your breath, and all of a sudden you're looking at his lips. 

" This," He's perceptive, and ignores the way your gaze makes him feel; the heat of your body so close to his. "Is a bit too big for what you're trying to do. It's a bit of a struggle, right?" 

You nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady. 

He flashes a little smile and leads you back to the workstation. "The number 4, please."

You hand him the smaller attachment, shaking yourself out of a daze. Your fingers brush, but you force yourself to concentrate on what he does under the hood , so to speak. 

"A little pressure, right…" You put your hand on the spot, and he moves it with his own, ever so slightly. "... here. Pull, please."

You give a solid tug, and he pushes the tool into a junction at the wires. It comes apart much easier than before. 

"You felt it?" He says it lowly; and it makes you blink twice. " That's when you pull. When you feel that tension."

He nods, and you stutter a timid thank you. "T-Thanks, sir. You didn't have to, though."

"I wanted to. I basically built all of this, I know it like the back of my hand. So it's no trouble." From anybody else, it would sound like a brag, but from Miguel it's nothing but the truth. You're in awe of him. sometimes: everything he's built, everything he's achieved. 

"So it's your fault none of these wires are colour-coded properly?" You say with a  burst of confidence. "Why are the wires for electrics brown? And the hydro-pumps are… purple? Not blue, or–" 

It peters off when you see his expression, gaunt and serious. 

" Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to cross a line, or anything."

"Sure, I built it," He erupts into a smile, and it makes him laugh. God, you've made Miguel laugh . "But I never said I was good at it." 

It puts you at ease, and you're brave enough to give him a little smile in return. And he likes it: your eyes light up, and worry lines relax. 

"And you don't need to call me sir. It's Miguel." As if introducing himself for the first time, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and say your name. 

"I know." He says it gently, and your heart skips a beat. "You need some help with the rest?" 

Realistically, it's a one-person job; something you can do even quicker now he's shown you the right technique. But he's already so close, and you're hung up on the way he speaks to you: steady, patient, with the prettiest, plump lips you've had the pleasure of looking at. It's not helping you get over your inappropriate crush; and will absolutely feed into your delusion; but he offered , ever so sweet. 

"Yeah, Miguel." You take the tool from him and crane your head to the worktop's belly. "I think I do."

_

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Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical