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theclowningbusiness · 1 month ago

Text

A Necessary Conversation

Pairing: Logan Howlett (X2) x Reader

Tropes: Shy girl, flirty guy

Warnings: Kissing

Other tags: Logan being hot, reader is a mutant but there are no details about what her mutation is/does, nobody good dies bc I said so, fuck Stryker tho, mention of reader almost falling off the Statue of Liberty in X1, mention of reader shaving her legs (is that even something I need to add HELP LMAO), Logan being vulnerable

Background: You’re a mutant living at the x-mansion and you’ve had eyes on Logan ever since he first arrived.

Description: Logan returns from his solo trip to Alkali Lake and you greet him at the door. You manage to embarrass yourself, but thankfully you get interrupted by Marie. Later, you run into Logan again, but before the conversation can go too far, you’re interrupted by Stryker showing up at the mansion. When the dust finally settles, you and Logan finally get the chance to talk.

You’d been waiting for Logan to come back since the day he left. He’d given you his dog tags the day he left, asking you to keep them safe for him. Since then, you've carried them with you everywhere.

While you were in your room working on something that Charles wanted you to take a look at, you swore you could hear the sound of Scott’s motorcycle outside. That couldn’t be, Logan had taken it for his trip. There was no way.

Getting up from where you’d been sitting in your bed, you made your way over to the window and peeked out. When you saw Logan climbing off of the motorcycle, your eyes lit up. Unable to help yourself, you rushed out of your room and down the hall. As you reached the steps, you went down two at a time.

By the time you made it to the front door, Logan was standing there, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He looked just the same as he had when he left, which was really no surprise. When he spotted you, he gave you a small smile.

You ran towards him, nearly tackling him in a bear hug. Your arms wrapped over his shoulders, while his responded by wrapping around your waist. Not wanting to be clingy, you let go before too much time could pass.

“You miss me?” He asked with a smile, which, knowing Logan, was really more of a smirk.

“We all did,” you replied, not wanting to make it seem like you had missed him any more than anyone else, even if you had.

“How have things been here?” He hummed, tilting his head as he waited for your answer.

“Same as always, chaotic,” you joked. “Last week, a kid blew a hole through the wall in the kitchen by accident when he sneezed. How was your trip? You find what you were looking for?” You asked curiously.

“Kinda,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotta talk to Chuck about it. How have you been?” He questioned.

“I’ve been alright,” you replied. “I’ve been working on something Charles wanted me to take a look at. So far, I haven’t been able to get too far with it, but I’ve got a few more ideas to try before I give up.”

Logan nodded as you spoke, seemingly interested in what you were saying.

“Oh, before I forget,” you hummed, “I have something for you.” Before he could ask what it was, you raised your arm and smacked him on the chest. You tried not to let your thoughts linger on how much muscle was there. “That’s for being gone so long.”

“That your way of saying you missed me?” He teased.

“Okay, maybe I did miss you, just a little,” you relented, crossing your arms.

“Just a little?” He raised a brow. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

“Fine, maybe more than a little,” you huffed. “I even started missing those little tufts of hair that look like cat ears,” you joked.

“I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and you’re already insulting me,” Logan sighed, feigning offense.

“I’m just messing with you. Your hair is fine, Logan. It’s honestly more than fine, it’s good, it suits you,” you began to ramble, as if you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the words come out of your mouth. “You look good, too, not just your hair. I mean, you’re a good looking guy-” Before you could continue, Logan cut you off by clearing his throat.

“Are you flirting with me right now?” He grinned, exposing the sharp points of his canine. That just shouldn’t be allowed when you’re already flustered. Not when his smile looked like a smirk and it basically invited you to kiss him.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem nonchalant. You could feel your cheeks heating up from his question. “Psh, no,” you shook your head. “Me? Flirt? No, not at all.”

“Maybe you should,” he shrugged, once again tilting his head.

You didn’t even have time to process his words- nevermind reply- when Marie made her way over, greeting Logan. You took that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, running off to your room to try and sort out what Logan must’ve meant.

================

For the rest of the day, you hadn’t seen Logan again. But he had said he needed to talk to Charles, so you were sure he was busy with that, along with unpacking and being greeted by everyone.

That led you to now. You sat in the kitchen eating some Doritos when Logan walked in. He wore a tank top and some jeans, and you decided that there really should be a law against his arms being exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted, nodding your head at him as he took a few more steps into the kitchen.

He gave you a grunt in reply, which wasn’t all that unusual. He certainly wasn’t the most talkative man. You watched as he started looking around in the fridge.

“If you’re looking for a beer, there isn’t any,” you chuckled. “This is a school,” you reminded him. “There’s some Dr.Pepper in there, though.”

Logan sighed, but grabbed a bottle of the soda and closed the fridge. He turned towards you and leaned against the counter, popping the bottle open.

“What’re you doing down here so late?” He spoke before taking a sip from his soda.

“Didn’t feel like sleeping,” you hummed, then nodded to your laptop that lay on the counter next to you. “Plus, I was still working on that project Charles gave me until about ten minutes ago. I realized I was too tired to make sense of anything. What’s your excuse?” You joked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered, reaching over to take a chip from your bowl and eat it.

“Can I ask you something?” You started, leaning your head on one hand.

“Shoot,” he replied with a small nod.

“What did you mean earlier?” Your voice was small, nervous. “When you said I should flirt with you?”

Instead of replying, Logan held a hand up at you. He furrowed his brows and you could see his ears perking up. You’d seen him do it before, and you knew he must hear something that he was concerned about.

Next thing you knew, you were ducking behind the counter while a gun went off overhead.

================

You were relieved that things were over. You’d found out a lot, about Logan and Alkali lake, about Stryker. It was just a weight being lifted when the dust settled. Now, you took the chance to relax a little. You’d found a nice tree outside the mansion and laid a blanket down to sit on. It was peaceful, and that was what you really needed right now.

As you sat with your back against the tree, you caught movement out of the corner of your eyes and turned your head to see what it was. It was Logan, walking towards you with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“How’d you know where I was?” You asked curiously once he was close enough to talk to without shouting.

Instead of replying with words, he just pointed to his nose.

“Right,” you nodded with a smile, “Can’t hide from the guy with the nose of a bloodhound.”

“That, and Scott told me when I asked if he’d seen you,” he smiled, sitting down next to you on your blanket and leaning back against the tree.. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

“Trying to decompress from all that shit we went through,” you answered honestly.

“How’re the cuts healing?” He asked, leaning in to get a better look.

During the fighting, you’d managed to cut open your forehead and the bridge of your nose. Luckily, that was the worst of your injuries.

“I’m fine. They’re just superficial,” you shrugged.

“I should’ve killed Stryker years ago, then none of this would’ve happened,” he sighed, blaming himself for the entire situation, along with the cuts on your face.

“Lo, really, I’m fine,” you assured. “Everyone is fine, this isn’t your fault.”

Logan nodded and leaned back again, looking out in the distance in front of the two of you. You did the same, smiling. It was a beautiful day, perfect for relaxing.

“Y’know, we never got the chance to finish our conversation,” Logan stated.

“Yeah, we kinda got interrupted,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the pit of nerves growing in your stomach. “We have time to talk now.”

“You asked me what I meant when I told you that you should flirt with me,” Logan began, turning his head to look at you. “I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to flirt with me. I’m into you.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Logan ‘emotionally stunted’ Howlett was confessing his feelings for you, even if he didn’t use so many words to say it. You turned your body so you could fully give him your attention.“I feel the same,” you admitted, your cheeks warming, “I was just too nervous to say anything.”

“I know,” Logan smiled at you, “That’s why I decided to make the first move, even if it did end up making you get a little flustered and run away.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know if you were serious or not. Didn’t know if I should think anything of it, or if I should just brush it off as you teasing me,” you reasoned.

“C’mere,” Logan hummed, gesturing for you to scoot closer to him.

You did as he wanted, and his hand reached up to hold the side of your neck, his fingertips resting in the hair on your nape. His thumb ran over the hinge of your jaw slowly. Using his gentle grip on your neck, he carefully led your face closer to his. His grip was light enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, but there was no way you wanted to.

You weren’t sure how long it took for him to pull you in, but then his lips hit yours. The taste of his cigars was still on his lips as they moved smoothly with yours. He was surprisingly gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

One of your hands lifted to hold the side of his face. You smiled softly, feeling the hair that covered his jaw under your fingers and palm.

It was too soon when he pulled back just enough to speak, but he had no chance to get a word out before your lips were once again covering his. Now that you’d had a taste, you couldn’t get enough. He was surprised, but chuckled. He kept his lips moving with yours as he grabbed your hips and led you to straddle his lap.

When you were comfortable on his lap, you slowly pulled your lips away from his.

“Someone’s eager,” he teased, letting out a content hum when both of your hands settled against his chest.

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” you defended with a small smile. “I’ve had eyes for you since you first came here. Then you left, and I had to pine after you the whole time you were gone,” you sighed dramatically, but the smile never left your face.

“You poor thing,” he gave you an overdramatic pout.

“But, that does remind me, I do have something for you,” you hummed.

“If you’re about to hit me again, can I get a warning?” He deadpanned.

“No, I’m serious this time,” you laughed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out Logan’s dog tags. You grabbed one of his hands and placed the chain and tags on his palm. “I believe these belong to you.” You closed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Knew they’d be safe with you,” he smiled, not his usual, teasing, grin. It was soft, warm. It felt like the smile came straight from his heart.

He opened his hand and looked at the dog tags. Then, he seemed to make a decision and grabbed them, removing the dog tag attached to the shorter chain. He clasped the shorter chain back together and held it out to you.

You took it, confused on why he was giving it back.

Logan picked up on your confusion- of course he did, the man didn’t miss anything- and spoke.

“If you’re gonna be my girl, I want you to have it,” he answered your confusion as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Want you to keep it safe for me for a while longer.”

“I’ll keep it with me all the time, I promise,” you grinned, unable to resist leaning in for another soft kiss. “I’ll keep it safe.”

“And I’ll keep you safe,” Logan replied, pecking your lips. He then placed a gentle kiss to each of the cuts on your face.

“You always have. You did kinda keep me from falling off the Statue of Liberty once,” you joked.

“But I didn’t this time,” he cringed as he looked at the cuts on your face.

“Logan, I’ve had worse injuries from shaving my legs,” you laughed softly. “I promise you, I am absolutely fine.”

“Okay,” he nodded, relaxing as you pressed your forehead to his. “I trust you.”

Logan’s hands on your hips lifted you off his lap and sat you on the blanket next to you. He laid down fully on the blanket, using one arm to prop his head up. You had no time to question it before he opened his other arm for you.

You smiled and laid down on the blanket next to him, tucking your face into his shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arm around you to hold you close.

“I’m glad we talked,” you said softly, tracing random patterns over his chest with your fingers.

“Me too,” he agreed, giving you a squeeze with the arm that was around you.

#X-Men #x1 #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan #logan howlett #Logan #logan wolverine #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #hugh jackman

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algae-tm · 9 months ago

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KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I’m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

#charles leclerc smau #f1 smau #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one smau

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roosterr · 1 year ago

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i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

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To the Flame chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Chapter tags/warnings: smut, piv sex, breeding kink (kinda, more like territory kink), possessiveness, oral (f receiving), talk of m oral, pwp, manipulation, rough sex, rough oral sex, nipple stimulation, squirting, stuff I'm definitely forgetting, dirty talk, manhandling, stupid amounts of making out/kissing

Chapter summary: You arrive at your new home and spend some quality time with the man of your dreams

A/N: Hey y'all! Hope we're still liking this story! Gotta be honest, 90% of this chapter is pure smut lmao. Can't go wrong there! (or can we?) Thank you for putting up with my bs and for staying tuned while I get some more served up!

***

Javi’s house is almost exactly what you had expected it to be. It’s not too big, and not too small. The Spanish style home is tucked back behind some woods in the middle of a small plot of land, which is apparently owned by his father.

There’s a pasture on half of his property filled with cows, which he tends to in return for living in the house. It’s peaceful and cozy, reminding you of the man who lives in it.

It doesn’t take long for you and Javi to haul your things inside, placing your clothes in his room, and any extra belongings in a hall closet. Your stomach makes nervous flutters the entire time, keeping you giddy with happiness despite your current situation.

Within just a few hours, you’ve gotten engaged, and have moved out—well, been kicked out, but it sounds better the other way—of your house and into Javier’s. It seems like a dream come true when you really think about it.

You fiddle with the ring on your finger as you bite your lip to hide the smile that’s creeping across your face. It’s absolutely the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and it fits you perfectly. How did he even figure that out?

It’s a simple ring, but intricate enough to hold anyone’s attention. The plain, gold band comes up to mold into a thorny vine design near the top, where it holds the perfect sized diamond. Not big or obnoxious enough to be gaudy, but keeping on the delicate side.

You also appreciate the way the vine design doesn’t continue all the way to the bottom, instead flattening out so that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable if it scratches or digs into your skin. It seems like Javi really thought this out, on top of knowing that he was going to marry you one day. Never have you experienced something so romantic in your life.

As you’re staring down at it, completely enamored with your thoughts, Javi comes up behind you. He admires the piece of jewelry over your shoulder, putting one hand carefully on the side of your head to pull you to him so he can place a kiss to the opposite side.

“It’s so pretty, Javi,” you tell him without taking your eyes off of it. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it until it was on your finger and Javi pulled back onto the road, and you’ve been in a trance since then. You lean into him, finally looking up to see him gazing adoringly back down at you.

“You deserve pretty things, pretty girl,” he says, wrapping you in a hug as you lean your head into his chest. He sighs and rests his chin on your head.

“I hope you know we’re not going to be able to have a big wedding at first, but I promise you that we will when the time is right. I want everything to be perfect for you, bebecita.”

You smile at that. You don’t mind that you can’t have a ceremony. You know that he will keep his promise, and you’ll get the fairytale wedding you’ve always dreamed of one day. He would do anything for you, he told you so.

HIs hand comes up to your chin, and you allow him to tilt your head up to capture your lips in a slow kiss. He slips his tongue between your lips, gently licking into your mouth in a way that makes your entire body light up with the sensuality of it.

Sparks jump in your belly, and you can feel wetness seeping into your panties. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your body responds to his touch. You moan into his mouth and bring your arms up to circle his neck, leaning on your toes to deepen the kiss until it feels like you’re trying to consume each other.

Javi lets you push him backwards to the couch, keeping his mouth on yours and pulling you back with him as he takes a seat. Your thighs bracket his, and the position immediately reminds you of just last night, when the two of you had been in the back of his truck, you giving your body to him for the first time.

Is it weird that you already want him again?

You decide it’s not as you start to grind down on him, and Javi definitely agrees with that assessment by the way he groans into your mouth.

“Shit, baby, lay down for me. Gonna do this properly this time,” Javi pulls away from you to say, his lips still close enough to be brushing against yours.

You eagerly comply to his request, letting him place you down on your back across the seat of the couch. He takes his position above you, giving you a few more teasing kisses before he starts to trail down your body.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, a gasp tumbling from your swollen lips as he sharply nips at your neck. His hands are slithering up your shirt, and you subconsciously arch your back to help him get it off you.

He grabs hold of the hem and raises it up until your stomach and your breasts are exposed, his mouth worshiping each inch of skin as it’s revealed to his greedy gaze.

“So pretty and soft for me, sweetheart.”

Javi’s lips are so close to your skin when he says it, that you can feel the moisture from his breath. You whine and wiggle, trying to get some friction somewhere. Your nipples are almost painfully hard against your bra, and you wish he would take it off.

“Please, Javi,” you beg, bucking your hips up while simultaneously trying to keep your hands planted on the couch. He didn’t give you explicit instruction to keep them there, but you see the game he’s playing, and you know he would if you moved them right now.

The look in his eyes can only be described as feral, fed by the carnal desire to have you above all. Seeing your struggle, he reaches his hands up again, and you lift up so he can undo your bra and then pull it off.

As soon as the article hits the ground, his hands are on you, fondling your breasts and thumbing over your erect nipples in a manner that makes you keen. You close your eyes as he moves up enough to seal his mouth over one of the buds, sucking and flicking his tongue harshly.

You moan his name wildly as he grasps you so that you’re unable to move, stuck with nothing to do other than take the assault on your sensitive flesh. You feel a heat stirring between your legs—which you didn’t know was even possible without direct stimulation—and when Javi lets one hand sneak down to rub tiny circles on your clit at the same time as he bites down on you, you’re coming undone in a matter of seconds.

You’re distracted enough by the blinding pleasure to be almost unaware of Javi pulling his mouth from your breast and snaking down even lower. His thumb stays on your clit as he spews bouts of encouragement your way.

It’s only when he removes his hand and pulls your pants and panties down that you open your eyes again to watch him scoop up your thighs, and dive into your cunt like a starved man. Your hands immediately fly to his messy hair, already damp from his efforts.

Javi moans into you as he tongues in and out, not wasting a second before going full force, alternating between your overstimulated clit and your weeping pussy. You’re getting light headed, your entire body heating up as he begins to pull another orgasm to the edge, just waiting for that one push. Just as you think he’s about to give it to you, he pulls away, breathing heavily as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

“You have no idea how fucking good you taste, sweetheart,” he says, and you don’t know if you’ve ever heard him say anything with so much conviction.

Despite the crudeness of what the two of you are doing right now, you feel your face flush at his words. He licks a quick stripe up your seam before coming up again, and you almost come untouched at how much this look puts the last to shame. You’ve heard the term “pussy drunk”, but this might be your first time truly seeing it.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you with my cock and make you taste yourself on me after I make you come, would you like that, baby? See how god damn sweet you taste?”

Your jaw completely drops. You didn’t even know he could talk this dirty. You just keep getting luckier with this man. Your head nods frantically before you can even think about it. Javi chuckles lightly from between your thighs.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” is all he says before dipping down to continue feasting on you.

It only takes a couple of strokes for you to be coming on Javi’s tongue, though he moans and squirms enough for it to sound like he’s the one getting his second orgasm today. He only pulls away once you’re whining and tugging on his hair from the overstimulation.

For a moment, he looks like he’s going to get up and strip, but you see something flash across his eyes, and he just reaches down instead. Your head falls back as you hear the sound of his zipper going down, just the thought of him fucking you naked while he’s fully clothed makes your cunt pulse with need.

You look down, and your mouth goes dry when you see that he doesn’t have any underwear on. He keeps his eyes on yours even though they’re trained on where he’s pulling his thick, throbbing cock from the opening in his dark jeans.

Your eyes flicker back up to his as he lines himself up, wasting no time in pushing into you. Your jaw goes slack at the stretch as he leans over you completely, putting his palms on the couch on either side of your head as he sinks in all the way. Your own arms wrap beneath his to cling and claw at his back. Just by his body language and the hungry look he’s giving you, you have a feeling you’ll need something to hang on to.

Somehow, it feels even better than the first time. You feel stuffed to the brim, but also complete. Like Javi’s been your missing piece this whole time, and now that you’ve found him you feel whole. When you’re staring into his big, deep, brown eyes, you see nothing but adoration for you. Lust. Love.

And it’s in this exact moment that you know you’re in love with him.

Javi hisses as he rears back enough for just the tip to remain inside you, and he captures your lips in a feverish kiss as he thrusts back in, already nailing your g-spot. You gasp and he steals the air from your lungs. You can taste a hint of yourself mixed in with his saliva, and you had no idea until this moment that something like that could turn you on so much.

He quickly picks up the pace, and you find yourself too weak to do much more than whine and moan for him, much less continue kissing him. Javi brings one hand up to hold your chin and make out with you even though you can’t reciprocate. You don’t mind, the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth is an orgasmic feeling in itself.

You just focus on breathing through your nose, keeping a hold of the man who’s sending you up the couch with his cock, and the feeling of his thick tip pummeling into your most sensitive spot. Your entire body is shaking with the intensity of the sheer force he’s slamming into you with.

There’s a strange but good feeling starting to tug at you someplace between your pussy and your abdomen, making your desperate sounds come out wobbly in addition to being smothered by your fiance’s mouth.

He makes a strangled noise and suddenly moves on to sucking the skin on your throat. You wonder if he can feel the way you’re tightening around him in anticipation as this new feeling grows and spreads.

“J-Javi,” you warn, unsure about what’s happening. You almost feel like you need to pee, but this sensation is far more intense.

He must not hear you, because his pace doesn’t falter and he doesn’t look up at you. He just keeps jackhammering his hips to yours and sucking hickeys on your already-sensitive skin.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because you’re already feeling that coil snap, crying out as you tighten like a vice and gush all over Javi’s dick.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, your body tensing as you ride out what has to be the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. You barely even hear Javi talking to you through your foggy mind. It’s like you’ve been transported to another place completely, a place where you can only feel pleasure.

“Such a good f-fucking girl, squirting all over my cock like that,” Javi praises as he nudges your chin up to make room for more sloppy kisses.

As you begin to come down, you can hear the steady slapslapslap that comes from where your bodies connect, each collision now aided by your juices and Javi’s heavy balls smacking against your swollen cunt.

It’s a disgusting sound in retrospect, but it turns you on even more when you hear your whines and Javi’s grunts blended into it. You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he isn’t pulling out as much, and his noises are becoming more frantic.

“R-remember to p-pull out,” you breathe into his ear just in case he forgot. He, again, shows no sign of having heard you. You must be speaking even quieter than you thought.

“Javi, please pull out,” you say, louder this time even though it’s a task to do so through your exhaustion. This time, he hears you.

“Please, baby, it’ll be f-fine, gonna marry you, let me come in this pretty cunt,” he says, though you’re unsure of the correlation between those two things.

“No, Javi, it’s not safe.”

He’s pumping himself harder and faster, getting up to the edge.

“Buy you–fuck—buy you a plan B,” he grunts, his voice strained.

“No, n-not this time. C-can’t risk it,” you squeak, clawing at his back as he pushes you even further up the cushions.

You hear him mutter a curse as he pulls out just enough to grasp his dick and splatter rope after rope of cum on your damp stomach. You let out a breath when he finishes and lays back down on you, his cum spreading between your sweaty bodies.

You’re both breathing heavily, trying to come back down to earth. The ceiling fan above you is spinning slowly, pushing just enough air your way as you close your eyes and toy with Javi’s curls where his head is resting on your chest.

“I love you, Javi.”

You don’t know why you say it, well,you do, but you hadn’t known the words were even on your tongue or even on your mind. They just slipped out without a thought. Javi tenses against you, and you feel a ball of dread drop into your stomach.

Was it too soon? Does he not love you back? Are you being too clingy? Too immature?

When he looks up at you, your breath caught in your throat, there are tears in his eyes along with another emotion you can’t quite place. One corner of his lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smile too hard.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he says, obviously a little choked up.

You grin at him as he climbs up again to kiss you, this time soft and slow, with care.

“Going to take such good care of you,” he promises when he pulls away.

*** Thank you for reading!! I would love to know what y'all are thinking so far!

Taglist is still open if you would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @movievillainess721 @callachloe @missladym1981 @casa-boiardi

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wystiix · 6 months ago

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talk to me, please

❥ pairing: venti x gn!reader ❥ synopsis: Venti anxiously waits for a text from you to the point where he overthinks and nearly spirals into madness—will you please just fucking reply already? ❥ cw: crack, attempt at humour (kms), fluff maybe?? not proof-read so some stuff may not make sense lmao ❥ additional tags: lowkey kinda revolves around texting, venti's perspective, no pronouns for reader, modern setting, venti is a humanities major cuz i said so, does this count as socmed??? idk someone tell me i need to sleep it's 2am ❥ word count: 955 ❥ notes: bonjour hi hello kumusta. my foot is fucking asleep and my leg feels numb and my back hurts and i'm tired an it's 2am i have school i need to stop. okay so for context i was texting this girl and she wasn't replying so i went crazy, and then i thought "wait i could write a fic about this" and here we are. it was actually kinda fun writing this HAHAHAHAHA but i had to rush it cuz i have other stuff to do so uh it may be a bit quick. (see end notes after reading cuz i said so /j)

The clock ticked. It had been three hours. Venti stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for you just please, please, please reply.

Try to distract yourself, one may say, and mark these fucking words, he did.

He tried everything. From listening to music to doing the dishes, to cleaning his room. Oh, but that was not all.

For the past few hours, he reorganised his notes, desk and playlist, walked at least twenty laps around his dorm, ate all his snacks from the pantry like a fatass, cleaned up his closet and planned what he was going to wear a week from now, learned a new song on his guitar and even counted every single one of his ceiling and wall tiles.

There were exactly 146 tiles in his dorm. That number now forever haunts him.

Practically exhausted from being way too productive than he usually was, he slumped down on his bed and opened the app he used to text you. There was still no reply.

Venti buried his face into his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration.

It was incredibly frustrating and it nearly drove him crazy. Were you seriously that busy? Normally you would respond within a span of seconds, a few to thirty minutes at the latest. But fucking three hours?

He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. You both had been talking for over a week—he couldn’t afford to mess this up.

But what if you suddenly lost interest? Oh, it felt far too early for that. Was he finally going to have that Mitski experience? Was he going to be those depressed poets who poured their hearts out through their ink on the paper when a single minor inconvenience happened to them?

You were killing him. And it was not softly. Venti felt as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

Was this his destiny, his punishment for choosing to pursue such a depressing major in humanities?

How cruel the universe is.

He sighed in defeat, opening his notes app to write and exude a poetic, Shakespearean ballad about this before his phone suddenly buzzed.

Ding! You have received a new message from [Name]!

Holy shit has his fingers never moved so quickly before in his entire life, clicking on the notification faster than he could blink. Your sudden message almost gave him a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.

So much for living and breathing Shakespeare.

Oh, how his heart fluttered. A simple message, yet it had him forget about his lament just a few seconds prior and he found himself swooning, practically glazing your message as if it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid eyes on.

Venti paused, rereading your message 25 million times, unsure how to reply. Should he respond right away, or would that be too eager? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but three hours of waiting had been excruciating. Perhaps he should wait a minute or two… No, that would be too long!

God he wanted to punch himself in the face for clicking that notification too fast, now he has to think of a response on the spot or else he’d look like an asshole.

He started to type out a response.

k, i see.

He paused, immediately deleting the message with a shake of his head. Too dry, he has to sound interested. I understand! Would you like to shift the conversation to a less taxing topic? Delete. Too formal. LMAOOO dw dw, what was it about anyway? Delete. ahh hope the essay didn’t stress u out too much!! Delete. i’m madly in love with u Delete. Had he sent that he would find the nearest cliff and leap off.

Venti sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated? He wanted to sound interested, but not desperate; casual, but not indifferent. He ended up typing something simple and hitting send before he could second-guess himself again. Sometimes, being simple is the ultimate sophistication.

He fought the urge to chuck his phone across the room. Shit, was that too casual? How long were you going to reply this time?

There were immediate blinking dots.

The tension in his chest eased as he found himself giggling at your comment. He realised the way he was acting earlier was ridiculous, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Venti felt the weight lift off his shoulders. The conversation was back on track, and he could breathe easy again. Just as he was about to put down his phone, the blinking dots appeared again, and he immediately reverted his attention back to it.

Another message.

What.

What the fuck. Was this real?

He put his phone face down, allowing everything to sink in.

What the fuck. Coffee? Tomorrow? With you? Did you just ask him out? Was this real? Was he real? Were you real?

The anxiety that lingered within slowly ebbed away as he stared at the ceiling tiles—the same tiles that haunted him earlier. However, they now seemed oddly comforting.

“Holy shit.”

Gods above, was this a blessing? Maybe his love life wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Venti’s gaze drifted to his closet, where he noticed that same outfit he intended to wear a week from now. A cozy, soft-beige sweater with a hint of cream peeked out from behind a row of neatly hung clothes, gently draping over a pair of charcoal chinos.

He grinned like an idiot, giggling and kicking his feet like a little child who just received their favourite toy. A string of “oh my god, oh my god” repeated endlessly in his head like a loop.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

❥ notes: hi so yes. yes i did what he did here. yes i counted my tiles, but it was my bathroom tiles instead. there are like 121 tiles in the bathroom, including the hidden ones. in this fic i just added the average number of tiles to that number which was like 25 tiles??? lowkey idk i just estimated. and yes i did plan my outfit a week from now, which is for church. yes i cleaned my room. yes i walked more than ten laps around my living room. i was restless. yes i was productive as hell. lmfao by the time i was done with the fic she replied to me so yay!! win!! also pls get the "you were killing him and it's not softly" reference i hope someone at least gets it or else i'm gonna cry myself to sleep. yeah anyways im gonna sleep gn <3

#i need to stop posting late at night #venti #genshin venti #venti genshin impact #genshin modern au #venti x reader #genshin x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #☆ wystys ink

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snailsgoingdowntown · 2 years ago

Text

Guilt Tripping - Yan! Diluc

Yandere Diluc x Fem! Reader

part 1 of the “Baby Trapping” series

Warnings: Toxic relationship, general yandere themes, guilt tripping (I think), emotional manipulation, slight victim blaming (I think?), drugging, implied future physical violence (Not towards reader), possessive and obsessive thoughts and behavior, overprotectiveness, overbearing actions, controlling actions/mindset, unhealthy and toxic mindset, paranoia, implied Yandere! Albedo (Towards a different reader of perhaps the same mini-series of this).

Not sfw warnings: Baby trapping, dub-c0n/non-c0n, unprotected sEx, cumming inside without permission, unconsensual and unethical use of aphrodisiacs, vaginal fingering, clothed grinding, loss of virginity (both parties and totally didn't forget to add this warning until now)

Diluc is straight up gaslighting himself in this. He’s aware of how awful he is but keeps justifying it lmao.

Please tell me if I missed any warnings that are needed.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT condone any of the toxic behavior and thoughts that may take place in this work of fiction. None of this should be romanticize or even considered normal as it is very toxic and very dangerous. If you find yourself in such a situation, please seek help if able to.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

WARNING: DUE TO TUMBLR’S SHITTY TAGGING SYSTEM, NOT EVERY TRIGGER WARNING WILL BE TAGGED, SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS THAT ARE WRITTEN ABOVE. THANK YOU.

MINORS AND AGLESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. THANK YOU.

Unedited.

Word count: 5134k

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Diluc was aware that he could be… overbearing, at times. He’s aware that his presence can be suffocating, that he can be a bit delusional at times, and that he’s a bit controlling when it comes to you. But be doesn’t mean to do that on purpose – you just manage to bring out both the worse and the best out of him.

Whether or not you’re aware of that fact is up for debate.

He’s been preparing for the day you snap and talk back, or to take some ‘much needed’ space from the relationship. He can’t deny that your sanity is slowly withering away the more you deal with him. Again, he doesn’t mean to make you so stressed.

He just wants what’s best for you, as long as you come back into his arms. There are understandings at times, where you listen instead of charging away like a bull. He knows that you know he cares deeply for you, loves you to the moon and back. That he’d be willing to do almost anything for you.

Anything but this.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

One sentence, five words, is all it takes for his words to come crashing down around him. ‘I need a break’ implies you’ll be back after a week or so. It’s happened once or twice throughout your entire two years of your relationship. And it never lasted more than a week, max.

Diluc can feel the thin thread snapping like a nose around a neck. He swears that the world comes to a halt at your words, seeing nothing but white. Is he undergoing shock? Perhaps he heard you wrong. Yeah, that’s it – you must have said something else. A prank maybe? Or maybe you mixed up your words.

“What… what do you mean?” He hates the way his voice cracks, how shaky his hands become, even when they’re clenched hard enough to snap metal into two. Your facial expression doesn’t show any signs of playfulness.

There’s nothing playful about this situation.

You let out a sigh, fingers massaging your temple. “I said… I’m breaking up with you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with you anymore.” Your voice cracks, and there’s a silent sob. There’s a huff, an intake of air.

You’re trying your best not to break down in front of him. And he’s doing the same, fists clenching and unclenching as he thinks of something to say. What should he say? That you can’t leave? It’ll only make things more complicated, making you hostile towards him.

He can’t have that. He just can’t. but even so, he finds himself about to utter those words out loud. He bites his tongue.

“…I thought I was good to you. While… I do understand that I can get overbearing at times… I thought I was a good lover to you regardless of.” He tries to keep himself in check. Diluc was nothing but a good gentleman in your eyes, so he acts as such. Although, that illusion may be gone now.

“That’s the problem! You think you’re a good boyfriend. But you’re not. you’re so… overbearing and controlling. I can’t even talk to people you don’t approve of!” Your own thread had seemingly snapped, leaving nothing more than rage behind. Quite, dull rage that’s too exhausting to come out at once.

“You say it’s for my own good… that I need your protection…”

“I never said that- “

“You implied it. Every. Single. Time. you always imply it.”

There’s nothing but silence. There’s a guilty conscience. He can’t ignore it, but he won’t address it. Because that means he’ll have to let go. And he won’t, not even in death, where hell will surely drag him down. He’ll drag you if he has to.

“We can… let’s just talk about this, okay? No need to make any rash decisions.” He’s talking out of his ass right now. “It’s… been a stressful week. It’s late and we both got out of work not too long ago. Let’s just… how about you come over?”

You don’t say anything, not at first. A glimmer of hope. Yes, everything will go back to normal, over a glass or two, ending with you being a whimpering mess as he grinds against you. Just like always.

“No. I can’t… I won’t do that. It always has the same outcome anyway. We never ‘talk’, you just sweet talk your way out, and it ends with some type of sexual activity.” You shake your head, taking a step back. He takes a step forward.

It feels wrong for you to stand so far away. Alien. You should be next to him, no, in his arms as he soothes you. Reality and fantasy don’t mix well, he realizes. “Please,” he tries again, choking on air.

It can’t end like this. It can’t end at all.

“Diluc… I can’t. I just can’t. I know it may be hard for you to understand but, whether you realize it or not… you treat me like a doll. A pretty, fragile, glass doll.” You don’t look him in the eyes, probably can’t.

To be fair, it felt worse on your own end. You loved this man. You wanted to marry him. But it’s in past tense and you’re not sure if you can keep up this happy façade. He’s nothing but controlling at this point, overprotective, suffocating. You can’t live in denial anymore.

Another sigh, another sob. With every step he takes towards you, you take one back. There’s an invisible wall between you, too hard to shatter. At least completely.

“Hey… let’s talk again in a week. When the steam blows off, okay?” You try not to break, he sees it. The way your body tenses, the slight tumble. He makes an effort to not point it out. “Please?”

And you cave, breaking down, wailing like a child. You don’t move away, only flinching as he closes in on you, gently and slowly wrapping his arms around you. his grip on you is loose, not wanting to chase you away. Gentle, he must be gentle.

It’s always worked in the past. He just needs to tweak a few things to guarantee victory. Anything for you, no matter how shady it may be. His morals become dubious when it comes to you.

A few minutes pass before you answer.

“Alright.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to go, your resolve going down the drain whenever it came to you. But you had already promised you would, weak in that moment. But he knew. He knew that you would eventually succumb to his wishes. It happens every time.

And it ends with heated kisses, hands exploring each other’s bodies, promises to wait for the full act after marriage huffed into your ears. Despite the bulge straining in his pants, hazy eyes that kept looking at your kiss swollen lips, he never did anything you were uncomfortable with. And for that, you were grateful. But it doesn’t excuse his other behavior.

Something didn’t feel right. You were nothing short of tense, weary of what’s to come. Would he try to pull something? Or procced to guilt trip you once more, as unknowingly as usual? You could never tell with him, despite dating for two years.

Two years and he became a different person.

No. Beneath that gentlemanly exterior lies a control, obsessive and possessive freak. And you fell for it, the charm, the words, the looks. You dug your own grave without even knowing. And now it’s time to dig your way out, no matter how painful it may be.

You just hope your resolve will stay strong.

It must.

Diluc was nervous. It was more common these days, a nervous Diluc. He can’t help it but to be nervous around you. You were just so pretty, adorable, irresistible. And there was a time where you thought the same, where you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him. And yet, you don’t anymore.

He’s aware why. It’s because of him. But you need to understand was for your protection. He has too many enemies, there’s too much danger in the outside world. Surly, you would come around eventually, right?

Wrong. He was so, so wrong. He should have kept up with the gentle approach, no matter the amount of years it might have taken. It’s not too late to restart… right?

Just act the way you always portrayed him as. His mask has slipped too much too quickly. And now, he needs to fix everything as quickly as possible. The question is how to.

He glances at the wine bottle. A little drug as curiosity of Sir Albedo… a new and up coming drug. An aphrodisiac is what he called it. It was still in its developmental stages, but harmless. He was even given the right dose.

A questioning look in the alchemist’s eyes, no concerns were voiced. Most likely thought it wasn’t his business. And besides… even the esteemed Alchemist Albedo Kreideprinz had skeletons in his closet. Likeminded people must stick together, right?

And thus, the aphrodisiac was handed to him under the table, and now in this ‘new’ and ‘unopened’ bottle of wine. The cork was a new one, the previous one hastily thrown into the trash, covered with other discarded things. Not a smooth cover-up, but one you wouldn’t notice. And, if you were to ask for juice, he even drugged that beforehand.

He flinches slightly when a servant comes up to him, announcing your appearance. He takes in a deep breath before grabbing the bottle and two glasses, making his way to the study. When he gets there, he pauses. Would he be able to pull this off?

If you do ask for it, he has your consent, right? Yes, you wanted to save yourself for marriage but…

He shakes his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. He’ll back down if he thinks about too much. So, he takes a deep breath, straightens himself. His feet feel heavy as he walks into the room. He keeps the door open.

“(name). You came.”

You jolt at that, whipping your head around to see his figure at the doorway.

“Yes… just for a bit. This isn’t a casual visit, after all.” You built a wall around yourself, trying to smile but failing. He doesn’t comment on it.

“Ah. I suppose that’s… right.” Awkward silence, your hands tightly clasping together. His own grip on the glasses and bottle are tight as well. Swiftly, he places the objects down on the table in front of you. Everything has to be perfect. This night needs to end on a good note.

“Wine?” he asks, eyeing the way your jaw tenses as you hesitate to answer. You want to say no, he can see it, feel it. And hopefully, you won’t. His legs are already shaking like a newborn foal’s.

“I… sure.” A quiet sigh of relieve, and he opens the bottle, a loud ‘pop’ echoing in the room. You don’t take your eyes off of it. You’re weary of him. And he doesn’t have the right to complain or even feel offended.

Because you were right to be weary. To be weary of him.

He pours you a glass and himself one. He’s going to take the drug with you. God, he’s already silently regretting this. Not because he’s tricking you (although that’s part of it), but because he’ll have to explain, in detail (something he dreads, but a favor is a favor) of the results. He hates himself for being used a test subject and ragging you into it.

He can’t feel bad, considering he was the one who chose this route.

“Thank you…” you say as he passes a glass to you. He sits in front of you, the plush chair soft against him. He takes a sip.

“So… about our relationship… do you truly want to end it? We can work through this together.” He croaks out, trying his best not to ramble. He takes a deep breath, calming his nerves. He can do this.

“… I’m not sure if this relationship is savable. Two years and you’ve just gotten… worse. Much worse than you have gotten better. It’s like you’ve been possessed.” He can see your eyes water up, but you don’t let them fall.

He wants to wipe them away.

“What do you mean?” He’s never felt so scared in his life. He hates this. He hates himself. “It’s just… I know I can get overbearing, and I promise that I don’t do it on purpose-“

You cut him off, “That’s the problem. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s harder to resent you that way.”

Resent him? What do you mean by that?

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do. You’re… you used to be a good boyfriend. Someone I wanted to marry… but you’re not that same person anymore. And I’m not sure if we can fix this… if you can fix yourself. I’m not a therapist… yet you treated me as one for years.”

Your shoulders slack and you don’t make an effort to look at him. You don’t make an effort to drink the wine either.

He can feel his heart breaking. What should he do? What can he do? Crying (a rare sight indeed) won’t do anything. It’ll only prove you right if he cries and begs for you to reconsider. He needs you to drink the wine. A good amount of it.

He takes another swing, enough to the point the glass is almost empty. Too much at once, he hasn’t even eaten yet. He wants to eat you. But not when you’re crying like this.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I was that… inconsiderate.” Ever so slowly, he takes small steps towards you. You don’t resist when he gets on his knees, gently placing his head on your lap. His arms wrap around your legs. And, almost as if it was natural, your hand comes town to thread fingers through his hair.

Even when you ‘resent’ him, you still comfort him. You really were too good for him. But it’s because of that he doesn’t want to let go. No. he’d never let you go. He’ll drag you to hell if he has to.

“… To think the esteemed Diluc would beg on his knees… hah,” a humorless laugh that shakes him through his core. You sound tired, so, so tired. You’re really going to give up on him. Was he really that bad? Sure, maybe he overshared, at times, and was a bit controlling, but…

He never hit you. Never raised his voice at you.

He’s in denial. He doesn’t want to admit to his mistakes right now. He’ll do it (probably) after you two make up. He’ll do it once you say you won’t leave, that you won’t give up on him, on the relationship. You’re all he has left.

His father’s dead, his ‘brother’ is a spy, he can’t really get along with anyone on an emotional level. Anyone except you. You know this, so why are you putting him through this? Can’t you see he needs you?

God helps the poor soul would dare take you away.

“… I’m sorry. I really am,” useless, he’s so useless right now. Helpless, he hates himself, he hates you. “I… can’t lose you. I love you, you know that, right?” Like he wasn’t the one pushing you away with his behavior and actions.

He’s a horrible person, a dreadful and emotional abusive boyfriend. The naked eye can’t see it, but a trained one can. Likeminded people can. The victim can.

“Diluc… sit down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick,” you run your fingers through his red mop of hair before retreating it. No, no, no, you can’t do that. You just can’t.

You have to drink the wine. You need to understand he’s protecting you. You need to understand he needs you. So, stay, please.

Don’t make things even more complicated.

“… do you love me?” He looks up, eyes glossy and he watches as your strong façade crumble. He was your weakness as you were his. You’re perfect for each other, however toxic the relationship may be.

“I… I don’t know anymore. I feel like I love you, but I know I shouldn’t.” Shaking your head, you gently push at his shoulders. The effort is weak, almost meaningless. He gives a squeeze before getting up and returning to his seat.

It’s when he sits down, head falling into his hands, when you take a swing. He hears you slam the glass on the mahogany wood. Hope lights up in his chest, but even so, it feels so wrong. But he needs to do this. For him. For you.

How selfish of a person he was.

“… I can’t promise I won’t fall back into the habit, but –“

“You said that last time. And here we are, again. You say you’ll do better, that you’ll listen. Sure, you do, but only for a week. And then the cycle repeats.” You sigh out, now crying, finally breaking down despite everything.

Sobs, ugly sobs that he hates to hear. He’s not sure when he got up, or how long he’s been hugging you, but he knows that you need comfort. Maybe not from him, but he’s the only one here anyway. The servants are outside, cleaning the yard, tending to the grapes, shooing of pests.

Just you and him. No-one will hear, and even if they did… who are they to question their boss? Money talks.

You stay like that, for a while. Crying in his arms as he strokes your hair. He’s not sure when you had stopped, and completely forgotten about the drug.

He only remembers it when his body starts to heat up. And the same must be said for you, as you’re quivering in his grasp. The way you quiver whenever he drags you across his crotch, erection making contact with your clothed pussy.

Like right now, your hips rolling against his as he practically dragged you to the couch in the study once you started to kiss out of pure lust. You’re panting above him, eyes shut tight. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. He hates it, but that’s okay. As long as you’re here, with him, and not thinking of another man.

“Fuck… my body’s hot. I’m scared yet I can’t stop… did you put something in the drink?” You question him, voice broken and breathy as you keep rolling your hips. Harder, faster, more friction, you need him as much as he needs you. He’ll get you, and you’ll have him.

Like it’s supposed to be.

“Are you… mmh… that weary of me?” You’re far too gone to properly hear him, chasing pleasure above answers. His gloved fingers tug at your skirt, wanting it off. He wants to see you bare. Patience... patience, he tells himself.

A squeal, mouth open and he can’t help but kiss you. saliva everywhere, any pretense of a breakup gone. For now. And yet you both don’t care, delving into the pits of pleasure that’ll never be enough. He bites your lips hard enough to draw blood, you claw at his neck deep enough to see crimson.

You hurt and take, hurt and take. You break his heart, he’ll break your mind on his cock. Just… be good.

“Diluc… wedding… I want to wait – oh! – but… ah… not sure if I can…” you’re groping yourself, thumb ribbing at where your nipple would be. Too many clothes, hot, clit throbbing while grinding against him like there’s no tomorrow. Diluc takes this chance to tease you, just a bit.

“Wedding… you still want to marry me?” There’s a slight teasing to it, and he proceeds to kiss your neck. Gently, gently, so gentle you want more. He wants to drive you crazy. “But, of course, if you want it now, I won’t say no…”

Another moan, another messy kiss. Your lips are raw by now, and you’re not sure when he dragged the front of your shirt down, sucking on the bare skin before him. He bites your neck, leaving marks, he gropes your breasts, your hands now tugging at his hair.

He hisses at the sting, but it only drives him to do more. His free hand dives under your dress, the skirt of it wrinkled now.

“Diluc… please, fuck, I need you,” you breathe out, grinding against his hand as he teases you through your underwear. Slowly, he brings his hand back, using his teeth to take his glove off. Almost, he’s almost there. He needs to loosen you up. Hopefully, hopefully this drug will help with the pain.

Ah. Blood.

He needs to do this in the bedroom, easier to change the sheets.

You’re naked in no time, and despite the drug running through your veins like fire, you’re still scared. Very scared, and he feels so horrible about it. and yet, yet he can’t stop himself for shit. He’s horrible, shitty, controlling, obsessive, possessive, and desperate. Paranoid to a fault, he plans on tying you to him via family.

It’s hard to raise a child on your own. Reputation is important, and everyone would lose respect for you, for a good while at first. And besides… they would know who the father was. If they inherit his features, be it the red hair or ruby eyes, they’ll know. They’ll blame one of you, both of you, taking one side or the other.

Thus, it’s just overall easier to stay together, avoiding controversy. A horrible and risky plan. But you would need the support, the funds, the father. It’s harder, nearly impossible to run away from him in such a state.

“Hey… it’ll be okay. I’ll take it slow, alright?” He reassures you, smiling down at you gently. He’s always imagined you like this – a panting mess, lips kiss swollen, hair sprayed around his pillow and your hair. Bite marks everywhere, nipples tendered from being sucked on so much.

He’ll make a mental note to be more gentle next time. But for now, he trails down his hand, fingers ghosting over your burning skin. Shaky breaths, and he can’t take his eyes off of the way you stare downwards. He’s naked too, his own hickies littering his neck like a necklace.

“G-gentle…,” you breathe out, legs shaking in both fear and anticipation. You can’t wait, and neither can he. So he doesn’t, tracking your slick slit once before slowly entering. A gasp, and h looks up to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Instead, he’s met with the sight of you biting your lips, pleasure written all over your face. The drug works, it’s helping with the pain. Making things far easier than he thought it would be. He’ll make sure to thank Albedo to the moon and back.

“Diluc…” He’s brought back to reality when you whimper his name, and he softly shushes you. If you say his name like that one more time, he might just slip in without any prep. Without any consideration.

“Shh… there’s no need to rush. Let’s try to take our time, okay?” He kisses your forehead, finger curling slightly inside you. The way you arch your back is heavenly, the drug making you far more sensitive. “I’ll take good care of you. Promise.”

Nodding, you relax, allowing him to add a second finger. It feels rushed despite his words, but you don’t comment on it. You can’t, not when he’s curling them oh so deliciously. And he knows this, he’s not completely lost in lust just yet. He needs to drown you in pleasure, drive you crazy with it before he succumb to his own desire completely.

Just a bit more.

The squelching echoes in his room, bouncing off the walls. His ribs had become a drum, his heart the stick. Small, needy breaths that leave your lips, crying out when he curls his fingers at a certain angle. Oh. He found it.

Your g-spot.

He’s heard of it, and thought it was rubbish at first. Until Adelinde smacked his head when he suggested such a thing. The Head Maid made sure to educate him on sex that day, showing diagrams and pictures, along with books written about the subject. He’s almost entirely forgotten about it.

“There?” he asks, repeating the action once more. You nod your head several times and in quick succession – too lucid to properly beg, too desperate to fully think it thoroughly. “Such a needy little thing,” a third finger elicits a hiss from you, causing him to pause. He waits until you give him the green light.

“It – it feels weird… but good at the same time. Is this normal?” Croaking, you’re croaking out sentences now, and Diluc resists the urge to kiss you until you run out of breath. Your fingers grasp at his shoulders, trembling slightly. He can’t tell if it’s from fear or pleasure.

For his own sanity, he hopes it’s the latter.

“I’m… not sure. I think it is. Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll slow down.”

He didn’t say he would stop.

Diluc sees the worry in your eyes, the questions he won’t answer, and he feels guilty. It’s far too late to stop, and even if you were to ask him of it, he wouldn’t be able to. So he gives you the illusion of choice, and from the way your eyes travel down to where he’s fingering you, he can only guess you chose to ignore the reasoning in your head. What a good girl you are for and to him. Like always.

“Diluc… Diluc…” your eyes shut tight, breathing heavier as he fastens his pace, fingers pumping in and out while curling all the same. You need this too, right? He can’t force you if you were the one who asked for it.

Your belly tightens, and hips grind against the hell of his palm. You’re almost there, he thinks. You’re becoming wild, all pretense of rationally gone with the wind. He’s there, he’s there, you’re there, shivering in the palm of his hand. Like you should be.

“Ah, ah, fuck!” One more buck of your hips and he feels something wet. Upon looking down, he notices something red, very thing and small, mixed with a clear liquid. Did you cum? He feels bad for making you bleed already*.

Your chest heaves, and for a moment, he’s afraid you’ll come back to your sense. You’ll hate him for sure. But his own body is burning, cock twitching, and he’s going to die if you resist. Please, just make everything simple and easy. Please, for both of your sakes.

He gives you time to recover despite the urge to fuck you silly. Patience, patience, at least pretend to be a gentleman he tells himself. Anything and everything for you. Except letting you go.

“Do you need a breather?” gently, gently he removes his fingers, trying his best to treat you nicely. He tries not to grit his teeth when you nod your head. He’s already doing something awful. He needs to make you comfortable, at the very least.

A few minutes before you calm down, laying flat on your back, hands leaving him and choosing to grip his sheets instead. You’re distancing yourself from him. A bit lucid, but enough to resist.

“Alright… please be gentle,” closing your eyes, your arousal is still there, you still need him as badly as he needs you. He doesn’t wait a second to hover above you properly. His place, this is his place, you’re his and will always be his. You signed your faith the moment you appeared in his life.

“Gentle…,” he tells himself, taking in a deep breath. It stings you when he pushes in, slowly and gentle like he promised. Hands grip your hips, and he leans back on his heels a bit. You gasp, from pleasure mostly, and he stills. Be a gentleman in appearance, at least.

One second, two seconds, and at ten he starts to move. a deep sigh of pleasure from you both, yours higher than his. The tone was different compared to when you dragged your hips across his, clothes separating you. But now, now he can feel everything – the thought of a condom never having crossed your mind once. Good, everything is sailing smoothly.

“You’re, ngh, tight… fuck, you’re driving me crazy angel.” Unexpectedly, you mewl at the nickname, and without meaning too, he gives a hard thrust. Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. One thrust, two thrust, and you’re begging him to fuck you harder at the fifth one, legs wrapping around his waist and hands clawing at his chest.

He loves you like this; he wants you remain so needy for him. “Diluc! Fuck, don’t stop!” Both blood and slick cover his cock and make a mess on his bed. He’ll have to give you a warm towel after this, a glass of water. And a lie about cumming inside.

“It feels good, fuck why did we wait so long?” His hips can’t stop moving as he questions you. You don’t answer, you can’t when you’re moaning like a whore. And he loves it, he loves the fact that only he can make you this way. He loves the fact that he’ll be your first and last partner.

He might hurt a man who would dare to attempt to do the same.

It doesn’t last long, neither of you do. He makes sure to circle your clit with his thumb, wanting to bring you more pleasure. You needed to finish with him. You needed to be distracted from the feeling of his cum painting your womb white.

And when he does, he lets out a low groan, your squeal music to his ears. he holds you tight until his balls are empty. And ever so slowly pulls out, careful to not alarm you. His goal was done, and hopefully, this’ll be enough to get you pregnant.

If not, he’ll come up with other plans.

“I love you…” one of his hands comes down to wipe away the sweat from your forehead. Your skin is sticky, eyes dazed. It’s a sight he’ll never forget.

You don’t answer, not at first.

“I… I love you too.”

A soft peck and he’s up to soak a towel in warm water. You’re too tired to check your lower half, eyes closing against your will. But it’s okay, it’s Diluc after all. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything… right?

As for Diluc… he’s already coming up with baby names.

===

A/N:* - tmi but the very first time I got fingered, I bleed a bit lmao. I don’t know how it is for everyone else, so I just used my own experiences. Seriously though, acting like Diluc in this fic is fucked up. Please don’t do that.

#Yandere #tw:yandere #yandere genshin #yandere diluc #yandere genshin impact #yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader

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peakyswritings · 7 months ago

Text

Join the Italian summer

Heart, Body and Soul || One year celebration

It’s Heart, Body and Soul month! Almost year ago, on August 7th, I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul, and now August really feels like the series’s month. I can’t believe it’s been a year. A year ago I had no idea I’d carrying on with my project to actually make this a long series, instead of just imagining how things could develop further - and tbh I had no idea I would still be writing the first part lmao. I wanna thank all those who stuck around, your support means everything to me🤍

So I decided to make a little celebration. At first I wanted to post it on August 7th, but then I thought that it would be nice to make the whole month part of it. Whether you’re a writer or just a reader, this is something you can participate in, so if you’re interested keep reading down below!

And before I forget, if you’ve just come across this and wanna give Heart, Body and Soul a chance, you can find it HERE

CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

☀️ Be creative

For my fellow writers, feel free to write something summer themed featuring Nina, and of course your lovely OCs. It can be a drabble, a full story or even a sentence with a little moodboard, everything is welcome!

☀️ Gaze into the crystal ball

For those of you who might have missed it, a few months ago I made a post about Heart, Body and Soul having multiple parts and following the events of the series up until season six. Everything’s already planned out, and I know exactly how Nina and Tommy’s story will develop and end. Make some assumptions about things that might happen. I won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong, of course, but it will be fun to see what you expect of the story!

☀️ Behind the scenes

If you have any questions about things that happened in the chapters posted until now or have some curiosities about something/wanna know why I made certain choices, now it’s the right time to ask!

☀️ Fool for you

Not long ago I made a joke about the fact that I could write a whole compilation of Tommy pining over Nina. So I went to reread the chapters and counted 16 scenes. Send me a number between 1 and 16 and you’ll get one!

☀️ Snoop around

A while ago I saved on Pinterest some photos that resemble how I picture the Ferrante house. Send me an emoji and I’ll share a room with you!

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby @look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

#HBS one year celebration #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #nina ferrante #tommy x nina #heart body and soul

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hongjoongspoetry · 22 days ago

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hongjoongspoetry's tumblr wrapped, 2024

Thank you @bvidzsoo for the tag!! 🩷

2024 review

2024 was the year I really got into writing for ateez. I've been writing fanfics since middle school and used to be in a lot of different fandoms. I used to post on wattpad, but was never consistent or managed to finish any of my stories. Ateez is the first group/fandom that I've really kept writing for a long period of time and not lost interest in, plus I've also managed to write complete oneshots and am almost even done with my first series (ever)!!!

Total statistics of 2024

- no. of fics: 8 - wc: 151.3K - no. of wips: 9

Genres explored in 2024

Horror, action, romance, dystopia, historical, sports fiction, slice of life, comedy, pirate fics (that one's in the drafts but it was written in 2024), can't forget the golden trio of fluff, smut and angst!!

first fic of 2024: Reassuring Words and Mellow Touches

- posted: feb 17th - pairing: Idol!San x F!Reader - comments: I believe this was my first ever ateez fic and it was actually "self indulgent" too. As stated in the author's note, I have a fear of giving birth and it's known in my primary family, but no one takes my fear seriously. So, back then, wrote the things I needed to hear in the moment and it was to have someone be understanding of my feelings.

longest fic: Bones, Blood and Teeth Erode

- posted: oct 8th - pairing: non idol!Yunho x F!Reader - comments: I never imagined to write something pushing 40k words!!! I'm actually amazed and proud of myself for finishing it. It was certainly a challenge as BBATE wasn't anything I've written before.

last fic: A Love Written in Gold | Chapter 1

- posted: nov 8th - pairing: Proletarian!Hongjoong x Nobility!Reader - comments: I'm so excited for this fic and everything I've planned for it!! I was originally not going to post it until Cold Hands, Warm Heart was done, but I couldn't hold myself from writing lmaooo.

top 3 most popular fics of 2024

Reassuring Words and Mellow Touches

- posted: feb 17th - pairing: Idol!San x F!Reader - comments: so this is getting quite repetitive 😭 it is what it is lmaoo, im just happy people could find comfort in my writing. Back then, I didn't expect it to get the attention it did or that people would reach out and tell me how much they feel seen.

Too Sweet

- posted: apr 24th - pairing: Upcoming rockstar!Yunho x F!Reader - comments: This fic is entirely inspired by Hozier's Too Sweet. I was obsessed with that song when it came out and I think I listened to it on REPEAT. I just had to write a fic to it and at the time, it was the longest fic I had eve written!

Baby, Love Me Lights Out

- posted: sep 21st - pairing: Idol!San x GN!Reader - comments: okay so this one, I just wrote it for shits and giggles 😭 that was the day I learned just how much atiny love drunken san lmaooo.

mina's personal picks

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

- posted: jun 3rd - pairing: hockey player!mingi x figure skater!reader - comments: this is my fav fic (series) from 2024! I've always wanted to do an ice sports fanfic, but never really had the time nor like "knowledge" to do it when I was younger lmao. I have so many ideas for this fic and this universe overall because the other boys will have their own stories later on, so they are all connected!! AND we get small cameos/easter eggs in each series of what the other boys' fics will be about! Although there are a lot of readers who liked CHWH, I'm still a bit sad it didn't get more recognition as I did put in a lot of thought behind it, but I'm still happy its almsot done. Mainly because it's my first ever series and well, I just love the characters I've created

A Love Written in Gold

- posted: oct 8th - pairing: Proletarian!Hongjoong x Nobility!Reader - comment: Okay, so season 3 of bridgerton really sparked this idea of writing a bridgerteez fanfic and I just had to write something for my bias! I'm a sucker for the forbidden love trope so this was the perfect fic to use it for lmaooo. No, but this is also a fic I have so so so much to planned for and I really can't wait to share it with you!! It's also really fun to write, which I can say I don't feel the same for some fics. If you have time and love bridgerton, I advice you to give it a chance!

2025 goals

One of my goals for 2025 is to write more and publish more fics than I did in 2024, but I don't know if I will achieve it as I'm swimming in work from uni hahah. If not, then I at least wish to finish my series cold hands, warm heart and a love written in gold before 2025 ends. I also want to start writing the next instalment Puzzle Pieces!

No pressure tags: @ennysbookstore @solaris-amethyst @seongwars @desirehorizon @everyonewooeverywhere + anyone else who wants to do this! 🩷

#[🏷️] tag games #ateez

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lovelytsunoda · 5 months ago

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heart too hot to hold | clement novalak

summary: staying at campus over thanksgiving wasn’t her first choice, but it was a hell of a lot better than a $800 round trip flight back home. over that one week while the campus was empty, she meets clement novalak and a rag-tag group of other holdovers who teach her valuable lessons about life and love

or, yn gets her breakfast club moment

pairing: college!clement novalak x college!reader

warnings: its basically the breakfast club lmao if they all chose to be there instead of being sent there against their will (if romance is not like what andrew and allison had i dont want it, i could go on for hours about how that was the most pure relationship in that movie), this is going to be a long one guys, implied smut at the end but it's not written out.

dedicated to my partner in clement related crime, @httpiastri

the campus felt different with nobody on it.

she stood by the fireplace in the second-floor common room, watching the last few cars leave campus. her own inexpensive second-hand car stayed in its reserved spot, the lot almost empty around it. her parking pass dangled from the mirror behind her yankee candle air freshener to mask the old-person smell that seemed to permeate the mazda when she bought it.

its not that she didn't want to go home for reading week. she really did. she missed her parents and she missed her house, but she simply did not have the budget to buy peak plane tickets to go one province over. if she wasn't scared of her car falling apart before she got there, she was willing to make the six hour drive over the quebec-ontario border, but she just did not care enough.

and that's why she made the decision to stay on campus and take a longer break for christmas. she passed from the fireplace to the kitchen, a mug in hand and a hot cocoa packet tucked into her back pocket. the lack of kitchen in the individual rooms made cooking her own meals quite hard, so she was looking forward to having the second floor kitchen all to herself.

her phone was connected to the common room chromecast, and she was enjoying being able to hear music she actually liked echo around the room.

"mind if i borrow the stove?"

the voice from behind made her jump, hot milk spilling over the counter. she cursed under her breath, reaching to turn off the obnoxiously loud music.

"i didn't realize anybody else was still here. i expected to be the only one." she'd heard most of her floor leave that morning, and watched all the parking lots on campus slowly empty. nobody else should have been there. "go ahead, i was just about done anyways."

the boy nodded, his floppy hair falling around his face. he was wearing a sweatshirt and baggy jeans, a small coffee stain on the collar. "i'm clement, i live on the third floor."

"y/n. second." she said, a little unsure as she wiped up the counter. "you're not going home?"

"nah. i'd never get any work done if i did. i'm too busy."

she snorted, taking a sip of her drink "i'm too poor. a round trip was about $800 for a flight that's just under an hour and a half. i would rather go home for christmas."

clement smiled at her softly. "i get that. do you want anything to eat? it would be a shame just to cook for one."

she peered at his stunning eyes through the fringe that fell over his face. paired with his pleading grin, it was as if the man was giving her the human equivalent of puppy dog eyes.

"yeah, what the hell. but i pick the movie. are you familiar with st. elmo's fire? i watch it every fall."

clement made a face. "never heard of it."

her jaw dropped. "you've never heard of st. elmo's fire? rob lowe, ally sheedy, emilio estevez, andrew mccarthy, demi moore and judd nelson?"

"none of those words mean anything to me."

"it's the movie that made the brat pack!" she shouted. "you have to see it, let me go grab the dvd. don't stop cooking while i'm gone!"

as she started down the hall, she heard clement shout behind her "you still have dvd's?"

"there's a dvd player in every room, almost makes it worth the crappy tv quality."

when she came back, the common room was full of the smell of fried beef, a pot of spaghetti on the stove. clement had taken his sweater off, now sporting a muscle top with the under armour logo over his heart. she paused for a moment, blinking before she walked over to him.

he was hot!

he had even topped up her mug with extra warm milk and some whipped cream. a cutting board next to the stove had a can of tinned tomatoes and a pile of chopped carrots.

"i see someone fancies himself a chef."

"yeah, its a bit of a hobby." he shrugged, a devlish smile on his face. "i'd offer you wine but it's considered contraband and i didn't want my ra confiscating my merlot, so i drank it all."

if this was the breakfast club, she couldn't figure out if he was more john bender or andrew clark. he had bender's devilish charm, but andy's reserved humor. he had a bit of a bad boy streak, but he wasn't a total dick (every time she watches the breakfast club, she becomes more aware of the fact that she would have punched john bender in his smug face already), in fact, clement seemed quite sweet.

there was a knock on the kitchen wall just then, both parties turning to face the newcomer. she was quiet, dressed in a matching sweatsuit and cubic earrings.

"room for one more? i can pay you." her voice was soft. "it saves me making a skip the dishes order. i've missed eating with people."

y/n smiled waving her forward. "come join us! i was just about to put a movie on."

while clement finished up cooking, the girl introduced herself as olivia and the group of three settled on the couches around the tv. olivia seemed sweet, as did clement, and it struck yn that these were people she never would have gone out of her way to try and meet if she had just run into them in the halls.

"woah, who's the dude with the mullet? i know he;'s like, a bad person and all but i'd let him ruin my life." olivia remarked, watching rob lowe's character on screen

"yeah, you'd be hard pressed to find a character in this movie who gave something ten seconds of thought before they acted. it's part of why i like it so much. every character is messy because real life is messy, and sometimes people we know just suck."

clement raised his eyebrows. “I’m still not quite sure what this movie is actually about.”

“it’s a coming of age movie in a different sense. it’s about the transition from university to adulthood.” she explained, twirling the spaghetti on her fork. “and it’s about having sex with judd nelson.”

"yeah, but his character is a bit of a dick as well."

"that's the point." olivia and yn said in unison.

"alright, forget i said anything." clement laughed, turning back to the screen. "when does rob lowe get a saxophone?"

the movie was about halfway through, dirty plates stacked on the coffee table when someone else entered the room. the newcomer came in a cloud of vape smoke, smelling vaguely like passionfruit.

there's our john bender, she thought to herself. we definitely can't vape in here.

on screen, andrew mccarthy and ally sheedy were making out passionately, ready to tear each other's clothes off.

"no shit, did someone find professor alonso's vintage porn collection."

"woah dude, don't talk about the brat pack like that." yn fired back, flipping the newcomer the bird. "either stay quiet and join us or take your vape smoke somewhere else."

clement laughed into his fist, trying lamely to disguise it as a cough.

the newcomer chuckled, sinking down next to clement on the ratty couch. "so what are you guys watching then?"

"we can explain later. its at a good part!" olivia shushed him.

after the film finished, as the end credits rolled with the john parr song of the same name playing in the background, clement rose to his feet and gave the movie a shocking standing ovation.

"truth be told guys, i lost the plot halfway through." he admitted. "but i had a lot of fun watching it."

"i liked it." olivia hummed, nodding her head.

"so let me get this straight," the other boy stood to stand next to clement, pausing the dvd. "kirby is basically a stalker, billy is a deadbeat, alec is just a dick and jules should probably go to therapy?"

"yes." yn answered with a straight face. "not the most charming bunch, are they?"

he shook his head. "damn. we should watch a giant shark movie next."

"yeah, mate. deep blue sea or jaws?" clement laughed, clapping him on the back. "i'm clement, by the way."

"landon. and the answer is totally deep blue sea."

yep. definitely john bender.

"alright then," yn laughed. "olivia, what would you have picked?"

"insidious."

that was so not the answer she was expecting, but it gave her an idea.

"hey, if it's just the four of us in the building, we should get together every night, one person cooks and one person picks a movie." she suggested, reaching for her phone. "everybody, give me your numbers. we can set up a group chat."

"that's actually a really good idea." clement encouraged, beginning to clear the table. "i call dibs on fast five for my night."

with all the numbers in her phone, she sent out a smiley face to officially start the group chat.

"why are we called the breakfast club?" landon asked, staring down at his phone with a confused grimace.

"because we all match characters in the breakfast club. i'm allison, clement is andrew, olivia is obviously claire and you're bender." she said matter-of-factly.

"then who's brian? there were five in the movie, and there's only four of us." olivia added

"i think we've all got a little bit of brian in us."

they spent the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace (which they were all surprised was still functional with most of the building being gone) playing a game of uno with a deck of cards that clement was sure had more pick-up-fours than a standard deck did. reruns of the big bang theory played on the tv behind them while landon and clem battled with each other to see who could pick up more of the deck before the game was over.

it was 10:30 when y/n called it quits, although she really didn't want to. she had work to get finished in the morning, and needed to decide what recipe she was going to cook the following night. she was having fun with her new friends, and she wanted to make the most of it while she could.

"that's me done for the night. i have to go grocery shopping in the morning. olivia, you have dibs on the movie. nothing that's going to give me nightmares, though."

clement grinned from across the table. "don't worry, yn. i'll protect you."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, trying to hide the nervous blush on her face as she playfully kicked at his leg

"come off it, let me walk you back to your room."

she relented, walking side by side with clement. it was awkward, and mostly silent as they walked the carpeted hall. they made idle small talk, mostly about the events that had transpired that evening. she wondered as they were walking if clement would even remember this night after class was back in session.

"well, this is me." she said idly, pointing at a door with a fall wreath on it. "my roommate went home for the holidays so its just me here." she held the key fob in her hands, trying to come up with a way to make this moment last longer.

to prolong the feeling of calm she felt when speaking to clement novalak, the elation she felt when he looked at her like that.

"well," he sighed, hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "i'll let you get on with your evening."

"thanks. i have to head out early tomorrow to get the ingredients i need for the meal, my fridge is pretty bare. you're welcome to tag along if you want."

clement beamed at her, and she felt her stomach flutter slightly. he was smiling at her, and she never wanted him to stop.

"yeah, why not. meet in the parking lot for eight?"

"sounds good."

the next morning, clement showed up at her door at promptly seven thirty with two tinfoil wrapped bagels in his hand. he took control of the aux cord in her car, blasting an odd mixture of throwbacks and house remixes of classic rock songs. she liked the way he made her feel, hanging on to every word and letting her ramble about anything and everything. he was a good storyteller, and she found herself filled with a sense of longing as he talked about his travels and his friend group.

she wished she could be a part of it.

they were still singing along to poison when they pulled back into the residency, and y/n found that her heart felt heavy at the idea of her time with clement being over.

she was falling far too deep, especially considering that their social circles shouldn't mix.

"do you want help cooking later?" clem offered, helping her grab the bags from the trunk. "if i'm being quite frank, i enjoy spending time with you."

her cheeks heated up as she buzzed the pair into the building. "yeah, okay. there's a bit we have to do now, and i'll need some latex gloves?"

clement raised an eyebrow.

"do you want to touch raw chicken with your bare hands?"

"fair enough."

she'd never had as much fun in the kitchen as she did that afternoon. they had the radio on, singing out of key and taking twenty minutes to do a ten minute task. clement danced around the small kitchen like an idiot, singing into a wooden spoon.

after the chicken was marinating in the fridge, their phones buzzed simultaneously on the counter.

"its olivia with the movie options for later. she's giving us a choice between the crow and slender man. i'm voting for the crow. as long as it’s the original from 1994.”

clement laughed. today he was wearing a turtleneck and jeans, and why did that make her knees go weak?

"yeah, i think i am too. i don't fuck with slender man."

later that evening, as the group congregated around the large flat screen to watch their movie, yn couldn’t help but notice that clement chose to sit next to her on the large couch. their thighs were basically touching. olivia looked in their direction, a knowing look on her face as she raised an eyebrow.

her phone buzzed in her lap.

olivia: hes so into you!!!

yn; like hell he is. he barely knows me

olivia; trust me, I know that look. get that dick girl, you deserve it!

“what happens after this week?” she asked quietly, shutting her phone as she looked around at the group.

landon still had his vape pen in hand. olivia sat on the floor, back up against the couch. her plate was a cross her lap, strewn with remnants of shawarma sauce and rice. and clement, pretty perfect clement was sitting next to her without a care in the world.

outside of this week, they were not her people, and she found herself dreading returning to a world where she had to pretend she hadn’t made a fuck ton of good memories with them.

landon shrugged, taking another drag of his vape. “I’m assuming we just all go back to normal.”

“but why?” olivia asked. “why should we? I’ve had a good time with you guys, and I’d feel odd just ignoring you if we passed in the halls.”

“I’d hang out with you guys.” yn said softly. “surprisingly enough, I like you guys.”

sure, she wouldn't consider going to one of landon's frat parties, or joining olivia at a pep rally, but more nights like this were right up her alley. good food, good movies and good friendship.

"i think, after all the time we've spent getting to know each other," clement started "that it would be a pretty shitty thing to do to abandon and ignore each other once reading week is over."

they were silent for the rest of the film, an uneasy feeling falling over them. y/n refused to make eye contact, scared of being burned. out of the corner of her eye, however, she noticed that clement was no longer watching the screen.

he was watching her, with a look approaching wistful in his eyes.

soon enough, the end of the week came, and olivia and yn felt like they needed to mark the week with something more monumental than dinner and a movie. olivia's roommate had a karaoke machine, and clement had a liquor store points card. with those two facts in hand, a plan started to emerge to throw a party celebrating their last week.

"let's make a pact tonight." clement said, raising his coffee mug at breakfast. "to treasure the week we spent together, and to solmenly swear not to ignore each other in the halls. we're friends now, whether we like it or not."

“man!” landon says “don’t get all sappy on me. let’s just enjoy this last day. as pitbull once said: life is not a waste of time. and time is not a waste of life. so let's stop wasting time, get wasted, and have the time of our lives.”

“damn straight!” olivia added, clinking her mug against his. “let’s make it the best party that this empty dorm has ever seen.”

yn laughed, pulling olivia in for a side hug. “yeah. we take it day by day. let’s not think about tomorrow and focus on having a good tonight.” this is the best idea I’ve ever been a part of, yn thought later that night, curled up next to olivia in a pile of blankets, smirnoff ices in their hands as the pair watched clement absolutley butcher the hannah montana theme song at karaoke.

It had been a good week, and while she was still sad she couldn’t make the trek home, she loved her new friends and she would always treasure the memories that she had made with them.

“my turn, my turn!!” olivia insisted, making grabby hands towards the wireless microphone. “come to mama, there’s an abba song with my name written all over it!”

yn laughed, watching Olivia saunter over to the karaoke set. no sooner than she had gotten up did clement slide onto the sofa to take her place,

“so, how was I?” he asked, slightly buzzed and sporting that goofy and contagious smile. when clement novalak was in a good mood, it was hard for anyone around him not to be.

she raised an eyebrow. “miley might say you ruined her tour.”

“oh come off it.” clem laughed, playfully launching a pillow in her direction. “you did this, you know.” he nodded in the direction of where landon was trying to hijack olivias performance of dancing queen. “earlier you said that if this was the breakfast club, you’d be allison, but i don’t think that’s entirely true. I think you’re brian, because he’s the one who brought everybody together in the end.”

her heart softened, something fizzing in her chest that was either heartburn or flattery. “you watched the breakfast club for me?”

“duh,” clement laughed “I had to know if you were insulting me hen you said I was andrew.”

she smiled, curling closer to him on the couch, bravely reaching to touch his forearm. “so if you’re andrew and I’m allison, it’s only right that I kiss you right now.”

oh god, that’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever said.

she didn't have time to dwell on her choice of words before clement cupped the back of her neck and pulled her face towards his, pressing his lips against hers.

the kiss took her breath away.

her hands slid up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair, the off key singing fading into the distance.

she pulled away, fully able to hear the heartbeat in her chest.

"holy shit."

clement laughed, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "holy shit indeed."

"shall we take this somewhere a little more private?" she asked tentatively. "i'd love to keep kissing you, but i dont want an audience."

clem beamed, lacing his fingers with hers. "should we go to your room or mine?"

she laughed, a smile splitting her face.

she never wanted this weekend to end, but if it had to, taking clement novalak to bed was exactly the ending she was hoping for.

#the cozy collection 2024 #clement novalak x reader #formula one x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 smut #clement novalak x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #Spotify

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