#bloody hundredth

[anachilles]

the look between rosie and bucky that hangs on a second too long when rosie’s talking about being happy to finally be doing something in the war

and bucky says “oh you’ll do something”

……the narrative 🥲

[randomrichards]

THE BLOODY HUNDREDTH:

Soldiers tell their tales

Being the 100th bomb group

Fighting the Nazis

[sukunasteeth]

Stitches

Sukuna has never made you wait for him.

He was always on time, always there before you, and if circumstances arose where-in he couldn't be, you always knew an hour before. You were never left to wonder or worry.

If Sukuna says he'll be there, he's there.

So when you wake up to his cold and empty bed, after hours of waiting for him to return home from work, you want to assume the best case scenario.

He's just working late, you assure yourself when your eyes find the clock on the nightstand and it tells you that it's two o'clock in the morning. Maybe he was so entranced in whatever he was tending to that he had forgotten to call you and tell you he'd be late. It had never happened before, but there was a first time for everything.

You try not to trip over your own two feet on your way to the bathroom, ignoring the dread that immediately darkens your thoughts upon checking your phone for the hundredth time that night.  

No call. No text... Did he tell you in person earlier in the day and you had simply forgotten?

What if he's hurt?

You round the corner of the hallway.

What if he's in trouble?

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even register seeing the bathroom light peeking out from under the door.

You push it open.

What if he's-

Standing over the sink, dripping in blood, and using a fishing line to sew up an enormous gash splitting into his side?

You're frozen in the doorway. 

Faced with the unfortunate answer to the questions that had been progressively plaguing you the entirety of the night. Shock grips your throat and has a cold sweat breaking out over your skin.

You haven't seen him so roughed up since the two of you were in high school. Sukuna, always hungry for a test of strength, had often walked you home with a bloody nose or a ripped open pair of knuckles, but this would be the first time you've seen him look like he just rolled out of a fight club ring. 

He's taken off his suit jacket and his usually pristine white button down has been torn to shreds. The pieces that are left of it have adhered to the deepest of his wounds, soaked in crimson. He's holding up the hem of his shirt with his teeth, glaring down at a particularly large slice in his torso as he feeds a needle into the skin and puts himself back together again. One of his eyes is swollen and there's a small cut to the side of it. You can tell that he'll have a black eye come morning. Sukuna must see you in the corner of it, because he suddenly turns to look at you. The edge of his shirt falls out of his mouth, but Sukuna doesn't seem to notice, too surprised by your presence.

The two of you take each other in. Silently appraising the situation.

Before you can react, his surprise is already morphing into a resigned, disappointed sigh.

"Aw shit."

"What the HELL?!" You don't recognize the voice that escapes you in your panic. Raspy from the sleep still coating your throat, disjointed as your tonsils remember themselves and yet forget how to operate in your shock. You're across the room in a flash, nearly tripping headfirst into him in your haste. "What happened?! Y-You're hurt. Why are you hurt? Jesus, that looks so bad- oh my god. 'Kuna-"

"Shhh," He's hushing you. You're close enough for him to reach out with his free hand and pull you even closer, he doesn't seem to notice the streak of fresh blood he leaves behind on your wrist. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"You're covered in blood!" You whisper in horror, you search his eyes for even an ounce of alarm, and find only his usual nonchalance lounging there. As though this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He even looks down at himself like he wants to refute you, but when he picks up the collar of his shirt, finding the shredded pieces of what remained of it, he seems to think better. 

"Little bastards didn't do half bad, actually." He mutters to himself. He almost sounds... impressed. "Any deeper and it could have really been a pain in my ass."

"What happened?" You ask again, desperate.

"Just some kids waiting outside of the office." He rubs at the back of his head, and you notice another small cut there over a raised bump that seems to be swelling at the base of his skull. It must be tender, because he grimaces when he grazes it. You do too, just from watching him. "Trying to make some pocket money off of me and Uraume. They should have at least waited until we were both alone." When he pulls his hand away from his head, there's fresh blood glistening on his fingertips. He sucks his teeth. "Amateurs."

You take a deep, steadying breath- willing your heartbeat to slow.

You were the one who decided to fall for a man constantly looking for a good fight. At this point, you had only yourself to be disappointed with.

Without another word you turn your back to him and head straight for the shower. You needed him to wash off. You wouldn't be able to tell which parts of him needed attention in the mess that was currently coating his skin and you were already preparing mentally to tend to him. You spin the dial to ‘hot’ and turn back to him, trying your best to glare. You didn't think it was working very well. Especially because he's smiling softly at you.

"Get in." You command, pointing to the tub.

Sukuna scoffs softly, turning back to his needle and fishing line.

"It's fine.” He brushes you off. “I'm just going to rinse the cuts as I go-"

"Sukuna." You don't mean for it to come out as demanding as it does. Sukuna was hurt. You wanted to be gentle with him, but you can't help how overwhelmed you are at the sight of him battered to such a degree.

He slowly lifts his head like he was giving you time to think about the way you had just spoken to him before he meets your eyes again. You're too roused to take it back. "Get. In."

You can tell in his momentary silence that he doesn't recognize this shade of frustration on you. He's watching you like he's trying to take in every detail of it. Engrave it into his brain. Part of you is reminded in that moment that it wasn't Sukuna's anger you were in risk of pushing, but rather his excitement.

He folds up the fishing line and loops it around the sewing needle, placing it onto the counter without turning to look at it.

Your unrelenting stance falters a bit as he crosses the room after you, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he goes. His eyes never leave yours, testing your will.

When he makes it to you, he's brimming with pride. His belt clinks when he unloops the first notch. 

"Yes ma'am." He purrs.

...

An hour later, he's as clean as he can be and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat. You're perched in his lap, having already finished stitching shut the larger wounds that needed it. Now you're down to the last small cut left, which is on his cheek. It didn't require much attention, it was a tiny graze compared to the rest of the gashes you had tended to.

You can feel Sukuna watching you with a smitten little smile, like you had just spent the past hour silently telling him how much you adored him with your gentle but stern touches.

It ticks you off.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mutter, pressing the last of the steri-strips against his skin.

He doesn't even pretend to stop. You refuse to meet his gaze as you do a final examination of your handiwork. Finally, with him properly patched up and without a single drop of fresh blood in sight, the pain in your heart eases. He was okay. 

"...Why didn't you have Uraume help you with this before you came home?" You pretend to reassess one of the gauze strips on his bicep, but it's really just an excuse to nervously pick at the cotton while you're underneath his gaze.

There were plenty of people at the office who knew how to deal with wounds to this severity, professional medics that could have sewed him up twice as fast and sent him home just as clean as when he had arrived. So why did he wait so long for help?

Sukuna hums and his bandaged knuckles glide up and down the outsides of your thighs. "Maybe I like watching you play nurse."

"Kuna~" You groan hopelessly, letting your head thunk against his shoulder. "Quit teasing. I'm mad at you." You announce.

It only serves to widen his grin, which you can feel pressed against your hair as he kisses your forehead.

"But you're so cute when you want to be mad at me." He mocks your tone of voice and chuckles when you press your thumb into the bandage on his bicep in an attempt to punish him-just a bit.

Quickly, he snatches your hand, locking the both of your fingers together and gently nudging your head with his own. Silently asking you to look up again.

You're trying your best to pout at him, but you're surprised to see softness where you expected to find mischief in his expression. There's a warm fondness to his gaze. One you usually only see him wear when he's watching you talk about something you're particularly passionate about.

"I'm sorry I made you worry." The genuineness of the statement softens the hard lines of your face. And just like that, you completely forget that you’re supposed to be mad at him. His fingers trace the space between your brows where he had just made an angry knot disappear. "I do hate it when I do that."

Maybe it was a tactic to get off the hook. But it was a good one. It even has you feeling guilty for being hard on him. 

"I don't like seeing you covered in blood." You whisper, finally meeting his eyes. The glimmer there is triumphant.

"I'll hose off out front next time, how's that?"

You bite back a laugh at the image, trying to keep your stern disposition. You lean in, so as to impart the severity of your tone. "No next time."

Sukuna leans in closer, "And I'll have to get you a nurse's outfit."

"No next time!"

You were in love with the epitome of mischief. There was always going to be a next time.

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Part 2:

Thinking Simon is asleep when he isn't. Or so he says. Case in point: Simon in all his cattiness made you his pillow. Your nails were working miracles scratching along his scalp which had him dozing off and lightly snoring. Or so you thought. You heard him grumble, "Why'd you stop, luvie?" when you moved your hand. He'll deny he was asleep, too, like the peepaw that he is.

To piggyback off the first point, Simon will sometimes quietly grab your hand and put it back on his head if you stop scratching his scalp. If you stop a second time, he will have experienced a betrayal man and cat were never supposed to know, and it's Affection Denied™ for the rest of the day lmao.

Texting each other when you're in two separate rooms because you don't feel like talking out loud. Sometimes, you'll text him some crazy shit that'll warrant him leaving the room he was in to silently judge you.

Absolutely loving to watch him shave in the morning because Simon is so sexy when he's concentrating, eyebrows furrowed, and those brown eyes staring intensely in the mirror.

You and Simon shit-talking each other in bed because you'll complain about being hot with the covers and cuddle pile you two have going on but never really doing anything to change it. You two actually can't get a good night's sleep without being up under the other.

Simon banning you from watching horror films because, for the hundredth bloody time, he didn't hear shit, love. He actually did and it was the neighbors but he can't be arsed to get out of bed.

Speaking of neighbors, it's you and Simon lying in bed, listening to the neighbors make sex and when it's done, Simon goes, "Mm. A new record," and he sounds so unimpressed which causes you to guffaw. Oh my fucking god—

Getting in the dog house with Simon because when your hands are cold, you stick them down in his pants to rest on his thighs because it's hilarious to see him jump and that's what he gets for not turning the heat up. Simon counterargues that he did turn it up. Three degrees.

Introducing Simon to the wonders of Spa Day at home because his skin needs some TLC. Simon looking like someone's stressed auntie with a ciggie dangling from his lips, wearing a really comfortable bathrobe you got him, and eye masks on.

You two treating it like the end of the world whenever one of y'all gets sick (Simon to a lesser extent) because how in the hell will you get your daily dose of affection?

Going all out and having a whole-ass reveal party for your newest edition to the family, Pup. You gave the boys shirts to wear in celebration. You wore Dad, Simon wore... Mom????, Kyle got Uncle, Soap got... Big Brother??? and Price got... Grandfather. Grand. Father. "Congrats, Cap'n." "Shut up."

Pranking Simon by calling him some random guy's name just to see his reaction. Simon stops what he's doing, judges you in Ghost, and goes, "Who the fuck is Anthony?" After that, it's on sight for Anthony. Whoever the fuck that is. Simon gets you back, though, and he's all, "Ask Anthony" "Oh? You love Anthony, too?" "Sorry sweetheart, Simon is taken. Better go to Anthony." Real funny, asshole.

Simon thinking you're about to go down on him. Not the way he thinks, though. You've situated yourself between his thighs, put his legs on your shoulders, and lower your head to... blow raspberries in his tummy. Like... whole-ass tunes. The disappointment on his face is immeasurable. But then you have him chuckling because you're fuckin' adorable looking up at him like that and your raspberries are ticklish.

[kenyummy]

✰ 03. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 03. each coin can be flipped twice.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: you guys don't know true pain until you have to copy and paste each individual paragraph into a new draft because you forgot how tumblr drafts work </3

n e ways getting into the batfams characterisation yipiieeeee . i tried to incorporate overthinking into tims part realistically bc that's lowkey how i overthink things but hey. im open to respectful criticism. ive also been consuming a lot of batfam media and i tried to my take on their guilt and how it plays into the crazy thing hagaashhaha im going insane fml

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You'd always been far too normal. That's what had driven you, all these years, to such a bitter nature. It wasn't like you'd done anything wrong—you'd done everything a regular person would do, and that was the problem.

This kind—your kind—of normality was impossible for a family like yours.

Impossible for them to understand. Relate to. See. Always falling behind, watching as their costumes and capes flutter in the wind, blowing their vision of you. Too wrapped up in the latest villain to spot the regularity in their life.

You'd wake up at 8am, eat a slice of toast with yoghurt and mixed berries—do pilates, and go on with your day.

(Your family would stay up till 8, fighting the crime that riddled the Gotham streets with an iron fist—sneaking out of the house to play dress up with a bunch of mentally insane criminals.)

You'd spend your nights at home, having done everything you'd needed to that day—lazing around with a comic book in hand.

(Your family were far too busy most nights at Arkham—preventing their hundredth breakout and the spread of fear toxin.)

You'd watch, pupils dilated as your siblings, your father came home bruised, beat, and bloodied (with whose blood—you could only guess).

You'd watch in agonising silence as they'd shoo you off after you'd peek from behind their doorframe—saying this kind of work wasn't suitable for eyes like yours.

Those same eyes dimmed that day—staring blankly into nothing as the sight of that sickening crimson red became more common to you, with each passing day.

Dripping down onto the ground—you'd never be able to get rid of that blood. No matter how hard you scrubbed the floorboards, there would always be that stain of red.

You'd grip the sheets—nails digging into mesh fabric—with a steel-knuckled hold. You'd draw what it would be like to be one of them. That same blood-red suit—yet with a different kind of venom to a bat.

Crawling up a water spout—you, the spider—were washed out by the bitterness enrapturing your heart that was once full and blooming like the most beautiful of gardens.

Venom drips from your fangs and yet left unbitten. Never poisoning anything but your own tongue.

To be overlooked and unseen with the most brilliant mind a god could conjure; the world, your family—may never love a spider, but you will find somebody, someday, who will.

Tim Drake was not used to that expression on your face.

... Actually—he wasn't really used to any expression on your face. For a moment, it felt more like a blur to him than anything. Memories of you—they were few and far between.

Except that look of pity you'd always seem to give them. The image appeared in his mind suddenly, for whatever odd reason. That sad, almost puppy-ish, expression that he'd never really given a second thought.

(Though—it made you appear more of a baby to him.)

Perhaps he'd just gotten used to it. After all this time, what could've possibly changed?

He was wrapped up with something strange given to him by Bruce when he'd seen you. A strange, web-like substance—he was just getting ready to study it when it dissolved like nothing were ever there.

Like silk, it was soft. Like glue, it was sticky. Like fibers, it was stringey. Yet—after just a few hours, it was as if it never existed. Like it were nothing but a bad dream.

Bruce and Damian talked about it like it were a spiderweb—fitting, considering the hero that wielded it, they described as looking more arachnid than human.

Regardless—his mind was already frazzled and buzzing with all kinds of thoughts. Spider. Spider Web? Spider.

Where is that fucking web?

The stress crawls under his skin like bugs and he itches. The red left over is so familiar to him—but perhaps never the same at all.

(That same red you'd seen with those big, glassy eyes—unlike that motionless gaze you'd give him sparingly. If he bled again, would you look at him kindly like that once more?)

Then, a shoulder crashes into his. Hard. Enough to almost knock the vial out of his hands. The frustration is just about to bubble over—the words crawling up his throat like bile and his chest tightens with that familiar burst of rage.

(Tim, crash-out, Drake—Steph called him once.)

But he stops.

It's only you.

Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at school? He hadn't been to school in a while—being a vigilante leaves a guy's schedule pretty packed—but he's sure...

"[name]? What are you doing here? Isn't it school hours...?" He asks, curiously.

You blink, face blank. He can't get a read on that face. He simply can't decipher it. It bothers him more than it probably should've. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know."

His heart beats faster. What? You went to school? You really went to school?

(Even if he realised it beforehand, it's like the shock runs through him again. What's wrong with him?)

You went to school even though you were shot a few days ago? Did that really happen? Did he... not realise? He's supposed to know this stuff, isn't he? Isn't he the smart one? Doesn't he keep tabs on everybody? Doesn't he look at you?

A cold chill fills his body, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. Before he can stop himself, the words spill.

"...Bruce is going to be worried. You know how he feels when you and Damian skip."

You glance to the side, considering something. He wants to know. Will you tell him? He feels like he knows nothing about you anymore. It's dehibilitating.

Since when have you brushed them off so easily? You were never like this before. You used to preen at a simple headpat (not from him—but you seemed to especially love your two oldest brothers) and practically glow when somebody talked with you.

"I think I'll live. Bye." You shrug.

His heart nearly beats out of his chest. What? Why are you acting like this? Don't you care?

Why are you acting like you hate it? You hate them? You don't care? What's wrong with you?

Did you get a concussion when you were shot? Did you hit your head and forget everything? Did you lose your mind after getting lead poisoning? Is this even you? What happened when you were shot?

Every possible question excluding—what has he done?

The bullet he saw in your shoulder flashes in his mind. When Jason practically kicked the door down, carrying your heavily breathing body bridal style and yelling for Bruce to get his ass over here.

Why were you out in the first place? Why weren't you at home? What happened to you? Why were you shot? What could you have done?

He had no time to think about it before. Not when he was so busy, and Riddler was causing up a stir.

Now, he is crumbling.

You're walking away, but his vision shakes. He feels like he's going to crumble. He hates it. This feeling. The feeling of knowing he simply just can't figure this out. He's mad. At you, or himself—he isn't quite sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

Why have you changed? Why did he not realise? Had you even changed? Did he ever know you?

He nearly crushes the vial in his grip. His hand reaches out, to grasp you. Your shoulder. The bullet lodged deep within you. Maybe if he got rid of it, you'd go back. To normal. You'd be your normal self again.

He feels it so deeply.

That crippling, nihilating urge to—

He stops. Watching you walk away. Fast. So fast. He can't catch up. No amount of training could've allowed him to walk alongside his little sibling.

Perhaps he found himself caught in that spider's silky trap—bound and unmoving as he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

The empty vial doesn't concern him much anymore. He stares at it with eyes as hollow as the glass is.

Tim wonders when everything changed.

Dick Grayson watched your convulsing body with shaking eyes. A bullet lodged in your shoulder and crimson dripping onto the ground in a sickening rhythm. He couldn't reach out. He couldn't have touched your face. Not when Jason held you like that. Like a guard dog. His bloody helmet slamming to the ground just for Dick to see the absolute fury on his little brother's face.

Pupils blown—Dick knows what's going on. Better than any of the rest of them, he'd even go as far as to say. He's manic. Absolutely manic. Shouting and yelling for anyone—asking what Bruce was doing, letting you out alone this late. What he was fucking expecting.

Nobody speaks. Nobody can. What could they possibly say? That they didn't notice? That nobody did?

Jason might have taken them all on in your honour if he had truly said those words out loud. He always would've, even if he never stayed for long.

Dick almost wants to sock Jason in the face for keeping you away, so close to his own heart.

(He would've done the same, if only he had you. If only you would let him.)

The only thing he can see in his brothers' arms is that child who used to hide in the most obvious of spots. Crouching behind that large TV with the tips of their hair peeking out. Who used to laugh so gleefully when everyone pretended they couldn't find them.

He sees you, and nearly falls over.

Dick Grayson isn't a stranger to blood. Blood had followed his footsteps wherever he goes. He is made of the blood of everyone he lost and fears to lose.

He didn't think you'd fit into the former so quickly.

(You never thought you were either—did you?)

He can't do anything when he sees Jason carry you out. Slipping into a car with Bruce and Alfred and driving off, far past the speed limit.

He is powerless to move. He is useless. As he was when he watched his parents fall. When he was held back by Bruce when he found that vile man.

He hadn't felt like this for a long, long time.

He was the perfect one. He was the best of them. The first. Everything Batman was supposed to be. Nightwing. Robin. Doing everything he could to be what Bruce wanted.

He was the perfect one.

What use was that when your blood stains the hardwood floors?

What use was him not remembering what you looked like until this moment? The only time he'd ever seen you was when a bullet was lodged in your shoulder, and your body was practically convulsing.

... This should never have happened.

You were always the normal one. The most regular. Never tainted by the horrors of Gotham. Bright. Kind. Your eyes were always so kind. Pitiful. You'd always pity them. Wanting to help, but how could he possibly let you?

How could he possibly let you see the shattered expression on his face each time he'd seen you hurting? (Even if it was you hurting for them.)

You never should've...

He stops his own train of thought.

Why were you out, anyway? Hadn't you known how awfully terrible Gotham is at night?

Hadn't he... warned you...?

Dick walks off, eyes following his retreating figure—he can't find it within himself to care. He storms upstairs—almost frantically.

Everything is so quiet. Nobody here. Nobody waiting here like there usually is.

Where you usually are. The end of the hallway. It's brighter over here. The windows more open. The floorboards more bleached by the sun than back where his childhood room used to be.

He almost kicks the door open when his sweaty hands can't get a good grip on the doorknob.

(He can't. He can't destroy the barrier between you both, no matter how hard he tries.)

It slips open, eventually. Dick takes in the sight, silently, eyes darting around.

There's dust littering the air, highlighted by glittering light. The glow of the sun pours into your room like molten honey. Shining down onto your carpet.

There is nothing else.

Your room is so empty. If he didn't know better, he'd thought this were a guest room. Scuffed—but suitable for a short visit nonetheless.

How long have you stayed here?

Dick tries to ignore the bleakness that fills his head when he tries to answer his own question.

He can't bring himself to step inside. Not without you there. He stands in the doorway, as lost as he felt when he world came crashing down with that tightrope.

He feels like a little kid all over again. As helpless as a little kid is in this world.

As helpless as you were.

As helpless as you are.

Your face looked like a blur for all these years. Lingering in the background, but never for long. His nails dig into the calloused flesh of his palm. Hardened from years of fighting, protecting all he cared about. All those he failed to protect before.

He didn't do anything, did he? Not for so long. For as long as Jason died, was it?

... How long was that?

He wasn't sure when you slipped from his mind. So caught up with those beside him—he hadn't seen you slip behind, silently.

That little kid, staring up with tearful eyes. Asking where Jason was. Asking when they could all play together again.

Behind the capes, the masks—behind him, there was you.

Dick would've fallen over if he hadn't caught himself on the doorframe.

How could he have possibly, ever let you out of his sight? How can he stand to look at you when he let this happen? The most regular thing in his life. Something he had never given a second glance.

His chest hurts with a white-hot pain that stings his entire nervous system.

The best of them all—it was never him. It was always you, wasn't it?

The one keeping him grounded was you—he feels like his heart can't beat properly. Clutching it hard, nothing works. The ache stings, but nothing feels worse than his mind spiralling with thoughts of you laying in a hospital gown with red seeping out your side.

He will never, ever let something like this happen to you again.

Dick will let you know you'll never need to worry about anything again as long as your favourite big brother is here.

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[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[bm571158]

“You Can’t Rush Greatness.”

There was only fifteen minutes until the two of them were supposed to be walking down the red carpet at the F1 75 launch event. She’d been dressed for the last half an hour, wandering nervously around the hotel room and touching up her already flawless makeup, just to do something to occupy herself. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous, it wasn’t like she was the one who had to get up on stage after all.

Lando on the other hand, was completely unphased by the whole thing, almost to the point of it being annoying. He’d been messing around online, playing some kind of virtual reality golf with Max and some other friends when she got in the shower. She’d come out of the shower half an hour later to find him still in exactly the same position. The only thing that had made him look away for a second was the sight of her dropping her towel to the floor and being momentarily naked while she reached into the wardrobe for a robe. Then he’d gone straight back to playing golf, leaving her to get ready.

By the time she had blow dried and curled her hair, sitting cross legged in front of the full length mirror to start applying her make up he’d finally paused his game for long enough to get in the shower. He’d stopped off to give her a kiss on the cheek on his way through to the bathroom, telling her that you looked pretty, and smudging your still unfinished makeup.

If he’d just started getting ready when he then got out of the shower the two of them would’ve been on time and there would’ve been no issues. But instead he’d laid on the bed, towel wrapped around his hips, complaining bitterly about how much he didn’t want to go although they both knew he hadn’t got a choice. It was the only reason that she had agreed to go with him in the first place, he’d argued that the whole thing might be a little bit less awful with her for company and she never had been able to say no to him.

The only thing was it was the first time in their fledgling relationship that the two of them had officially attended anything together. While Lando was incredibly relaxed about the whole thing, to the point that they were supposed to be leaving in under five minutes and he still hadn’t finished getting dressed, her stomach was churning with nerves.

“Come on, Lando.” She hurried him along. “We’re going to be late.”

“You can’t rush greatness.” He smirked, going back to trying to fasten his cuff links.

She just rolled your eyes at him, turning back to the mirror to straighten out her dress for the hundredth time. The quiet groan Lando let out had her turning back to face him though.

“What?” You asked.

“The bloody collar doesn’t do up!” He sighed, tugging at the collar of his shirt, the buttons a long way off meeting to prove his point.

“This is why you’re supposed to try things on more than two minutes before we walk out of the door.” She pointed out, walking over to him and grasping the collar of his shirt. It was a long way off meeting, there was no way it was going to button up even if she forced it, not without strangling him at least.

“You look really, really sexy tonight.” He smiled, eyes running appreciatively down her body as his hands fell to your waist.

“We definitely don’t have time for any of that. We’re already late.” She rolled your eyes at him. “And you’re going to have to ditch the tie as well. There’s no way we’re getting this done up.”

“At least all that neck training torture is doing something I guess.” Lando joked. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She nodded. “Shall we go?”

“One sec…” he dropped his hands from her waist, crouching down to put his shoes on. “Now we can go.” He plucked his coat off the hook by the wardrobe, handing hers to her.

It was a lot of drama and unnecessary work, to get into the specially painted McLaren so that he could drive round to the red carpet at the entrance. She pointed out on the way there that the two of them could’ve walked from the hotel of the entrance in less than half the time it took to get there in the car. Lando had agreed, muttering something about the whole thing being very unnecessary, but had been parking the McLaren up at the bottom of the red carpet before he could say much else.

He’d jumped out, with a friendly wave to the crowd, coming around to her side of the car to open the door. As soon as she was out his hand was firmly holding hers, giving it a firm squeeze of reassurance before the two of them set off up the red carpet. The flashes of the cameras were blinding, and she faltered a little bit, never having felt quite so out of her depth in the whole time that the two of them had been together.

“You okay?” Lando whispered, leaning in so his voice was low in her ear.

“Yeah, just don’t let go of me.” She told him, gripping his hand a little tighter even at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be left aimlessly wandering around here on her own. She didn’t know anyone, or where they were supposed to be going.

“I won’t, I promise.” He reassured her.

He’d kept his word. The only time he’d let go of her hand was to wrap his arm around her instead, pulling her in a bit closer to him when she started to shiver from the cold on the hope of keeping her a little warmer. She had stood a little awkwardly beside him as he gave various interviews on the way in, but eventually they made it in to the venue and Lando pulled her chair out for her so that you could sit down at the McLaren table.

The venue was huge, packed with an excitable crowd. Lando was quick to take his coat off and drape it over her shoulders as she shivered, not expecting it to be quite as cold as it was inside. She shot him a grateful smile, and he returned it, his hand falling onto her thigh as he turned to speak to his team principal who was sitting beside him.

It was a strange evening, the jokes a bit cringey, the reveal of each car being over the top and seeming to go on for a little too long. McLaren having won the Constructors Championship in 2024 meant that they were the last team to reveal their car. Lando kissing the top of her head quickly and giving her an encouraging smile as he headed off to get ready with Oscar, Zak and Andrea as the evening began to draw to a close.

She smiled and cheered when he came out on the stage later on, dressed in his new race suit for the 2025 season. He somehow managed to find her in amongst the crowd, giving her a wave and a wink that had her blushing before he turned his attention back to the interview that he was supposed to be giving.

It took a while for him to find her again after he was done on the stage, but when he did he was back in his suit, curls ruffled from getting changed and with a big smile on his face.

“You ready to go?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“I am.” She agreed, taking his hand.

He called out a goodbye to the remaining members of the McLaren team that were hanging around at the table, the venue already rapidly emptying, and then quickly led her through the crowd.

He didn’t bother picking up the car to take them back to the hotel, the two of them completing the short walk back to the lobby in less time than it would’ve taken the valet to pull the car around.

“They’d better not be planning to do that every year.” Lando groaned, leaning against the wall in the elevator as they waited for it to take them up to their hotel room. “That was absolutely ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, I thought you looked pretty sexy up on that stage.” She smirked. “The suit… it really looks good on you.”

As she said it her hands reached for the collar of his shirt, the one that was never going to fit around his muscular neck, and as her fingertips grazed over his skin Lando shivered under her touch.

“Oh really?” He smirked, any earlier trace of tiredness rapidly fading as he grabbed her by the waist.

“Mmmm.” She agreed, fingers toying with the next button down, exposing a little more of his toned chest. “If you’re not too tired, maybe I’ll help you out of it… reward you for doing such a great job tonight.”

“Is that right?” He smiled, biting on his lip as he tightened his grip on her waist. Her hands slowly worked their way down the buttons of his shirt.

“It is.” She agreed, stepping out of her heels and dropping down a couple of inches lower in front of him.

He lifted his hands off her waist to allow her to pull his jacket and shirt down his arms in one smooth move, leaving him bare chested and stood in front of her, eyes watching her every move as he waited to see what she was going to do next. It was her show, and he felt a shiver of anticipation as he waited for her to do something.

She slowly trailed her fingertips from his collarbone, down the defined muscles of his chest, across his abs and to the waistband of his trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath as he fingers dipped just below the waistband, but before she got to where he wanted she pulled her hand away and turned her back to him.

“Unzip me?” She suggested, gathering her hair up and sweeping it to one side to make the zip easily accessible for him.

He reached eagerly for the zip, because she looked beautiful in the dress but he knew what was underneath it was going to be even better. The zip slid down smoothly, and after quickly shrugging her arms out of the sleeves the silk material slid down her body and pooled at her feet.

The sight of her nearly naked in front of him, a few scraps of black lace the only thing covering her, snapped Lando out of his trance. His hands were back on her almost instantly, pulling her back towards him so that her back was flush against his chest, hand sliding around to explore her soft and tanned skin. His teeth nipped lightly at the skin of her neck.

A quiet sigh of contentment slipped out of her lips as he found the particularly sensitive spot behind her ear that he knew drove her wild.

“Lando…” his name escaped her as a breathy sigh, his hands skimming down the soft skin of her stomach towards the waistband of her underwear. “Please…” she didn’t even know what she was asking for, just for him to do something more than the current maddeningly slow trail of his fingertips over her skin.

“Shhhh… patience.” He reminded her, hand still moving painfully slowly, his lips trailing slowly down her shoulder. One hand moved up to loop through the straps of her bra, dragging them slowly down her arms before he finally unclasped it and let it fall to the floor with her dress.

She shivered as the cold air of the hotel room hit her bare skin, a sharp contrast from the warmth of Lando’s skin behind her, pressed against her back.

She had no idea how long he kept her there, a hand firmly on her hip keeping her in place as his hands and lips slowly explored her skin. There was no hurry, absolutely no urgency to his movements, just a lazy exploration of the body that was starting to seriously test her patience.

He did eventually turn her around to she was facing him, lips capturing hers in a kiss that left her breathless. His hands grabbed the back of her thighs, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her back through the room towards the bed.

The bed was still strewn with clothes from where he’d got ready from the event and he quickly brushed them off before dropping her on to the bed, grinning at her as she bounced on the soft mattress, hair fanning out around her like a halo and laid there waiting for him. He made short work of getting out of his now painfully tight trousers, crawling back up the bed and leaving a trail of kisses up her body as he went.

“Lando… please..” she groaned, locking her legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer.

“You’re impatient tonight, huh?” He grinned, leaning in to meet her lips with a passionate kiss that left her breathless.

“Lando…” she ground her hips in to his now obvious erection that was straining at his boxer shorts. “Don’t tease me.”

She rolled her hips into his again, harder this time, and heard his breath catch in his throat. She took advantage of the fact that she had him momentarily distracted, using her grip around his waist to flip the two of them over so she was straddling him.

He looked a bit dazed and confused as to how they’d ended up in that position, but he didn’t fight her. He just lifted his hips allowing her to drag his boxers down his legs, and before he could say anything she’d rid herself of her own underwear, braced her hands against his chest and was sinking down on him.

He swore quietly under his breath as she took all of him, sinking down onto him agonisingly slowly. Once he bottomed out, filling her completely she made no attempt to move, just watching his facial expression, head tipped back on the pillow and his mouth slightly open as he tried to catch his breath and regain some control, the feeling of her around him almost being too much to handle.

“Come on, don’t tease me.” He whined, his hands finding her hips, trying to encourage her to move.

“What was it you said earlier?” She asked innocently. “You can’t rush greatness?” As she spoke she began to move, setting an agonisingly slow pace that had Lando seriously considering just flipping the two of them over and having his way with her.

“You’re going to make me regret that, aren’t you?” He groaned, the noise a mix of frustration and pleasure as her hips rolled in the slow rhythm that she had set.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She winked.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

[girllblogging777]

𝐶𝑅𝐼𝑆𝑃𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝑁𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆

↳ bf!mattheo riddle (british) x fem!reader (american)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.3k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : when cuddling with your boyfriend turns into a debate over british and american slang

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it was one of those lazy saturday nights in october, where neither of you had anything to do. no assignments to finish, no tests to study for. just you and mattheo, curled up in your bed, the world outside completely forgotten. the fairy lights above you were the only thing lighting your dorm, and the rain outside was the only sound that could be heard.

you were warm and comfortable under your shared blanket, limbs tangled together like they had been a thousand times before. there was a nearly empty bag of snacks between you, and mattheo was laying on his side, propped up on one elbow, reaching into it lazily.

“these crisps are bloody good,” he said, taking a bite, his smirk widening as he caught you staring at him.

you groaned, rolling your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “matt, seriously? chips. they’re called chips. we’ve had this argument a million times.”

he chuckled, clearly enjoying how easily he could get a rise out of you. his hand slid to your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin. “nope. chips are what you call fries. these,” he lifted the bag as if to prove his point, “are crisps. just admit it. you’re wrong.”

you turned your head to glare at him, though there was a playful glint in your eyes. “you know, for someone who insists on calling them crisps, you sure eat a lot of chips.”

he laughed, stealing another from the bag. “doesn’t mean i agree with your blasphemous name for them.”

groaning, you pushed him lightly and stretched out, throwing your legs over his. “fries are fries, chips are chips. you’re the one who’s confused, or maybe just stupid.”

he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe how stubborn you were. “how many times do i have to explain this? it’s not hard, love. chips are the thick ones, like with fish and chips. what you’re holding? that’s a crisp.”

you snorted, deliberately taking a loud bite of one, making him groan. “fries are fries, chips are chips,” you repeated, just to get under his skin.

mattheo ran a hand through his curls, looking at you like you were absolutely crazy. “you’re mental, you know that? you make no sense.” but even though he was annoyed, there was this softness in his voice, this look in his eyes, like he couldn’t help but smile at you, all comfortable in his hoodie, your hair a mess from laying around all day, cheeks warm and pink from laughing.

you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. “i’m not the one who’s confused about food, mattheo.”

he sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer, pressing his face into your neck like he needed to breathe you in. “how did i end up with someone so wrong, yet so cute?”

you laughed, your fingers finding their way into his messy hair as you tugged on it gently. his hand slid down to your waist, squeezing you playfully. “i’m definitely gonna have to educate you on the difference between crisps and chips. i can’t have my girl sounding so american all the time.”

you slapped him lightly on the chest, making him chuckle. “i am american, you idiot.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered beforeleaning in to kiss you, his voice dropping to that soft teasing tone that always made your heart skip. “but you could at least try to speak proper english.”

you rolled your eyes and smiled into the kiss, pulling back just enough to whisper against his lips, “fries are fries. chips are chips.” mattheo groaned, leaning back to look at you with fake annoyance. “you’re impossible.”

but even as he complained, you could see the smile tugging at his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and you knew, without a doubt that he wouldn’t have you any other way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : another scenario i got from character ai, cause i accidentally said chips and the mattheo got mad (i’m neither british nor american guys, sorry)

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @ilovematteoxx @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

[cinnamoonblue]

I forgot something

ONE SHOT - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

DESCRIPTION: OP Verse | Friends to lovers - fluff, slight angst

SUMMARY: It's your birthday and something or rather say - someone is missing.

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of Thatch's death, mentions of pet names (princess)

WORD COUNT: 3,8K

✰ MASTERLIST ✰

NOTE: this is a special one for my girl @neospade as today is her birthday and as she has turned into my internet bestie I had to make sure to properly wish her a nice birthday ♡ I hope you enjoy this short piece on your day and have an amazing upcoming year ♡ I know that you are a sucker for angst so there is a little bit, but overall I really, really hope you like this one as I tried to include all your favorite tropes and character in this one - so I hope that you will enjoy my little present for you ♡ ily ♡

The sunlight is creeping through the window which means it’s time for you to wake up. Today is quite a special day for you as it’s your birthday. Usually, you are very excited when it comes to it, but this year is a little bit different. It isn’t about the age you are turning to, it is more about the upcoming celebration. You know that every single person from the crew is excited about tonight’s celebration as, since you were a child, your birthday has been treated as a holiday on the Moby Dick, after all your father was none other than the Whitebeard himself.

Sitting up in your bed a sigh leaves your lips. You have been feeling very down lately since a certain someone has left the ship to pursue revenge. It has been two months since Thatch was killed by Blackbeard and Ace has gone on his journey to avenge his comrade’s death. Not only you have to celebrate your birthday without one of the closest people you had while growing up, but on top of it, you have to spend the day without the person your heart desires the most.

Portgas D Ace – the second division commander of the Whitebeard’s pirates, has stolen your heart the moment he had stepped his foot on your father’s ship. Even when he was trying to kill your father you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat every time you saw him. You never worried about his attempts towards your old man as you were sure that one day they would stop, and the hot-tempered boy would eventually cool off. While his attempts were still ongoing, you made sure to tend his wounds and clean his bloody nose every time, not only as an excuse to get closer to him, but also to get to understand why he was trying so hard to harm your father. Of course, he wasn’t very found of you in the beginning and refused your help, but slowly with time he started to cool off and open up more and more to the crew and you.

“Why…” His voice was low and groggy from his hundredth killing attempt towards your dad. You have come to leave him a bowl with warm stew in it, as you have noticed that most of the time out of pride he would refuse to eat with the rest of the crew or eat in general. “Why do you people call him ‘Pops’?” He was sitting on the deck with knees pulled towards his body and elbows resting on them, his head was hanging low as he had failed again, and he was getting tired of it.

You felt bad for him. It was obvious that the guy who was the same age as you had been faced with many demons inside his mind and it pained you, because if you put aside his want to fight your father so badly, he was clearly a good person.

“Because he calls them all ‘sons’ or ‘daughters’ and every one of them was hated in one way or another by the world.”  You offered him a gentle smile as he looked up to meet your eyes. “I guess, this brings people joy. It’s a simple word – but it does make them happy.”

“What about you?” The question he asked you took you by surprise which made you giggle. Didn’t he know?

“I have no choice but to call him that.” You said in between giggles as the boy in front of you had confusion written all over his face. “I am his biological daughter, Ace.”

His eyes widen when he heard the words leaving your lips. There was no way that something this beautiful and tender could be this man’s daughter.

You offered him another smile and walked closer to him, squatting down, you looked him in the eyes, this time with a serious look over your face. You knew that this must end once and for all, and the boy sitting in front of you was the one who should make up his mind.

“Ace.” You started and hoped that he would listen. “You got to make up your mind, because this can’t continue.” He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze as he didn’t want to admit that you were right. “You can’t kill him, no matter how much you try and even if you do, what do you gain by doing so?”

You didn’t get any answer to this question, but since that night Ace has changed. He has agreed to be part of the crew and not long after that your father has made him his second division commander.   

The more time has passed, the more you two have grown closer, which leads you to right now. You have no idea where he is, how he is or with who he is. Every day you check the newspaper with fear, but you try to tell yourself that no news should be good news. If he is in danger or something has happened to him, it would be known. You two have grown to be extremely close friends to a point where you would always get teased, especially by Marco and Thatch that you two are meant to be more than friends, but you have always ignored them. While Ace was quite oblivious to the fact that you have feelings for him, the rest of the crew isn’t. On top of that, your father has moved you to the second division, which was a surprise for you because since you could remember you were always under Marco’s command, but you chose not to question your father’s choices. Being in the second division only brought you even closer to Ace, and the more you got to know him, the harder you were falling for him, but again no matter what anyone was telling you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confess your feelings for him, afraid of being rejected and making things awkward between you two.

You get up from bed and get ready for the day. Taking a step out of your private cabin you make your way to the deck. Passing by every crew member on the ship you are being greeted with congratulations for your birthday. Getting on the deck you see your father’s big figure sitting on his usual spot with Marco by his side. The moment your father sees you a big smile is placed on his face as he opens his arms, inviting you for a hug.

“Happy Birthday to my dearest child.” His voice echoes around and everyone cheers. Pulling away from his embrace you smiled at him.

“Thank you, dad.” Before you know it another pair of arms wraps around you in a suffocating hug and lifts you a bit from the deck’s floor.

“Happy Birthday little rascal.” Marco’s voice rings in your ears. “Are you excited for tonight?”

“Sure, I am.” You half shrug with your shoulders and chuckle a bit.

“You don’t seem to be.” Izo, who appeared from behind Marco, points out. “Happy Birthday beautiful.” He says and gives you a hug as well. 

“Thank you Izo, and yes, I’m excited for tonight. Don’t worry.” You try to brush it off before the teasing starts but it is too late.

“Oh, I’m sure if certain someone was here you would be more excited-yoi.” Marco chuckles and nudges Izo with his elbow. All you do is roll your eyes and ignore him as you don’t have the energy for this right now.

“Any news from him?” You turn to your father, but he just shakes his head and you nod understandingly. “Well, no news is better than bad news.” You whisper to yourself and turn around to walk away from the guys, going on with your chores for the day.

You can’t help but wonder what the man with raven black hair, who happened to steal your heart, is doing. Does he even remember that today is your birthday? He is super forgetful when it comes to things like this, but he did remember it last year, and this let you think to your birthday then – he tricked you into believing that he had forgotten it, only to surprise you later during the night with a trip to a nearby island where you two observed the night sky filled with start all night. Then just before you two got back to the ship he gifted you a red bean bracelet which matched the necklace he wore all the time and since then you haven’t taken it off.

Gestures and moments like that one made you fall in love with him more and more, but the courage to confess or even question if he feels the same way never comes. You know how hard it is for him to understand feelings and emotions in a first place, so you are sure that all he sees in you is a very good friend. Still, all the days and nights spent talking to each other, you or him falling asleep in the others cabin, led to your heart belonging to him and him only.

When he left without a second thought to revenge Thatch’s death without even saying goodbye to you or asking you to go with him left a bitter taste in you. You wanted to go after him, but everyone stopped you from doing so, instead until he comes back you are in charge of the second division, after all your skills in combat and fight strategies are exceptional, so no one in the crew mind you taking over them and it is only until Ace comes back.

The day goes by slowly, but before you know it everyone gathers on the deck and starts celebrating for you and your special day. You are trying to enjoy the night as much as you can, but nothing feels good enough. Your father, Marco, Izo and everyone else are throwing toast after toast in your honor, but you can’t even finish your first drink while everyone else is at least on their fifth or sixth. You are sitting with some of the nurses when your father calls you out to go to him. Excusing yourself you get up and go to your father, wondering what he wants from you now. As much as you love your old man, sometimes he is pain in the ass, and you just hope that tonight he won’t give you one of his life lectures. Taking a seat next to him you give him a questioning look.

“Since when you don’t enjoy celebrating your birthday?” That is all he asks you while taking a glance at you.

“I’m just growing old, I guess.” You shrug, obviously not in the mood for anything and almost done pretending that you are in the mood for any celebration. And this isn’t only for your birthday, you have been like this since Ace left, but today all the feelings you have bottled up feel a little bit heavier than any other day.

“It is because the stubborn brat is not here, isn’t it?” Your dad chuckles with bitterness in his voice. He does miss Ace, too. This is how much of an effect Ace has on people – just like the sun he is attracting everything and everyone towards him. His charisma is so big that there isn’t a possible way in which someone will meet him and not fall in love with him at once. He knows how to charm his way into people’s hearts, especially yours.

“Don’t act like you don’t miss him yourself.” You look over your shoulder at your father and his laughter fills up the air.

“I do miss him. The ship is too quiet without him, there is no one wreaking chaos around.” He says in between laughs. Both of you stay silent for a minute observing the party around you. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you decide to call it a night. You aren’t in the mood, so it is pointless to stay up any longer.

“I’m calling it a night, dad. Don’t drink too much.” You get up and place a kiss on your father’s cheek, wishing him good night. His laughter fills up the air once again as he wishes you good night and tells you not to worry about him.

Making your way to your cabin you stopped a few times as some crew members stopped you for a little chitchat, but it doesn’t take you long to finally reach it. Taking a step in and closing the door behind you, you noticed the big window in it is being open.

“That is strange.” You tell yourself as you remember clearly that you have closed it last time you were in your cabin or maybe you remember wrong. Walking to it you close it and the second it makes the clicking noise that indicates it is being closed, a pair of arms wrap around you with one hand on your middle and the other on your mouth stopping you from screaming.

“Sh, sh, it’s me.” You don’t need to be told twice as you immediately recognise the voice. You relax in the arms that are now strongly wrapping you in a hug. “Happy Birthday, princess.” He whispers in your ear. You waste no more time and turn around to face him. You can’t believe your eyes, after two months you are face to face with the deep dark eyes you have fallen in love with so deeply. This can’t be real, you must be dreaming.

“Ace.” You can feel tears treating to fall from your eyes. “You… you remember.”

“How can I forget.” He chuckles as he pulls you even closer to him. It hits you just now how close the two of you are and how intimate this feels.

“Does anyone else know that you are here?”

“No, only you, and I intended to keep it that way.” He lets go of your body and instead takes your hands in his. “I’m very close to catching Teach and I’m not turning my back to what he did, but I couldn’t help not being part of your special day today.” He said while giving you one of his many charming smiles.

“Please, drop it.” You know that this won’t stop him from going after Blackbeard, but you have to try. “Just come back I beg yo-…”

“Hey, hey I’m here to celebrate you, not argue with you.” He lets a little laughter escape his lips in an attempt to brush off the topic.

“We are all worried sick about you Ace.”

“I’m fine as you can see.” He replies with a little eye roll. “Now birthday girl, how was your day?” He guides you to your bed as you both sit on it. You still can’t process the fact that he is here.

“It was okay.” You shrug. “How did you get on board without getting caught?” It just occurs in your mind that if only you are aware of the fact that he is here right now, this means that he getting on board has been unnoticed by whoever is in charge of the night watch tonight.

“I have my ways.” He winks at you with a little smirk playing on his face.

You two laid down and talked for hours. He told you about how he met his infamous little brother again and that now he has a crew on his own. He told you about all the troubles he had gotten into while searching for Teach, but you weren’t surprised, after all Ace so reckless at times, yet it was so fun listening to his stories while your eyes traced every freckle on his face. You have missed his face so much. You have missed him so much.

Before you know it, the sun is back on the horizon, which means that soon he will be gone. You know that you can’t do anything to change his mind regardless avenging Thatch, but you can’t bare the thought of not seeing him for who knows how long.

“Why did you come here Ace?” The question slips past your lips before you can stop it. “I mean… why did you come back today of all days?” You know how much he values his friends and family, but still… he only showed up for your birthday.

His cheeks get heated. Ace has come all the way here with one thing in mind but now with you in front of him, all his confidence has left the room, and he is not sure what to do or say next.

“It’s… it’s because… I-I know how important this day is for you.” He chuckles awkwardly.

“You are important to me as well.” You tell him not caring about how this will come out.

“And so are you to me.” He swallows hard before raising and sitting up in your bed, you follow him and wait for him to continue. Taking his orange hat off, Ace runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it a bit.

“Ace… are you okay?” You quietly asked.

“Yes, of course, I am.” He tries to brush you off, but you can easily see how tense his muscles are and also noticing that he is… nervous. You have never seen him nervous, what is he nervous for?

“I don’t believe you.” You gently place your hand in his and give it a little squeeze. “You know you can tell me anything. Is it something to do with Teach?” Saying out loud this name you immediately feel the anger building up in him.

“No, this has nothing to do with him.” He grinds his teeth as his jaw clenches, just hearing his subordinate name, who has betrayed your father and all of the crew in the worst way possible, makes his blood boils.

“Then what is it Ace?” Raising one of your brows, you are waiting patiently for him to give you an answer.

“I’m not the best with words and you know this.” He turns his body a bit towards you so he can face you better. “And I know that this might…” He sighs as he is struggling to find the right words. “This might complicate things between us… but… I’m… I-” His cheeks bloom with blush all over them as he looks away for a second before he curses under his breath. “Fuck this.” He says as he cups your face and pulls you closer to him. His lips, soft and plump, captures yours in a sweet full of desire kiss. It takes you less than a second to return it.

You have dreamed of this kiss for so long, maybe since the first week he came on board. His lips, his kiss, is even better than you have imagined – so gentle, yet full of passion. You both pull away at the same time to catch your breath as his hands gently caress your face. Leaning closer to him, your foreheads touch as you share a little eskimo kiss with a little laughter escaping from both of you.

“I missed you, Ace… I missed you so much.” You whisper.

“I missed you more.” He whispers back as he captures your lips once more in a sweet gentle kiss. “I… I have never felt that way before as I feel for you, and I had to make sure that you know it… just in case.”

“Please, don’t go.” You beg. “Or at least let me come with you that way you won’t have to be alone, and we can be together.” You place your hands on his face, cupping it as you kiss him, hoping that this will change his mind.

“I can’t princess.” He pulls away from you and exhales as it pains him – he doesn’t want to leave you, not now when he knows that the love is mutual, but he can’t risk losing you. Looking over his shoulder the morning twilight is set on the horizon, u means it is time for him to go before someone from the crew notice the Striker anchored next to the Moby Dick. “But I will be back here soon, very soon and then we can be together without any worries.” He wipes away the tear that falls down from the corner of your eye. “Don’t cry, I promise you – I will be back before you know it.” He pulls you closer for a hug as he wraps his strong arms around your form and places a kiss on your forehead. “In the meantime, you take good care of the second division, I’m sure you are doing even better job than me.” A soft boyish laughter escapes his lips as he kisses your forehead once more. “Again, I’m bad with words, but you mean everything to me. Never forget that.” He lifts your chin and kisses you one more time before he gets from the bed.

You are still sitting on it, knowing that all you have to do is wait – wait for him to come back to you, so you finally will be able to be together as you have always wanted.

Ace is about to sneak out from your cabin’s window when he turns around and calls out your name.

“I forgot something.” He says as he pulls out a little piece of paper. You get from the bed and stand next to the window where Ace is. He hands you a vivre card. “I forgot to give it to you last time, but now that you have this, no matter what or where I am, you will now know that I’m alright and that soon I will be back to you.” His hand reaches once again for your face and cares it so gently as if you are made of glass. With one last look he turns around and jumps over your window, but you grab his hand as he is about to run away.

“I love you, Ace.” You say as both of you are staring into each other’s eyes. “Please, come back to me soon.” With a heavy sigh you let go of his hand and look down at the vivre card he has given you, placing it to your heart with your hands on it.

“I will.” He says with a smile tilting his hat before running away and jumping out of the ship.

You hear the rumbling of the Striker and with that he is gone. But he will be back soon – after all he has promised you and Ace always keep his promises, and now that you have his vivre card you will never need to worry about any newspapers or so as, as long as it it pointing towards his direction you can and will always find your way to him and know that he is well and unharmed. Loving a man like Ace is a challenge, but you are willing to take this challenge any day because Ace is Ace, and you would never asked for anyone else but him.

writing, format, header & dividers © cinnamoonblue ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[wileys-russo]

found out today that mary is a junior black belt in judo.. fic request where she insists she can protect you (cocky af) and does show up when needed (you can think of a situation) but later there's something dumb like a spider and mary freaks out.

reader takes the mick out of her and her black belt status.

itsy bitsy spider II m.earps

"only me darling!" you looked up from the stir fry you were almost finished as keys jingled and the door popped open, the thud of your girlfriends bag hitting the wall followed by a quiet string of swear words making you smile and shake your head.

"you know babe the wall doesn't move, its still there every single time you come home and bump into it." you teased, glancing at her with a smile over your shoulder as she joined you in the kitchen.

"and do you know love that your jokes still aren't funny, every single time you tell them." mary teased back, pecking your lips sweetly and tapping at your ass with a wink as you smacked her across the back of the head with the spatula in your hand.

"ow! baby." mary gasped in shock, rubbing at her head with wide eyes. "reflexes like a cat earps, hands off the merchandise unless you're invited to touch." you winked, flicking off the stovetop and moving the wok off the heat.

"how was judo?" you questioned, hearing her rummage through the fridge before it closed with a gentle thump and you heard the sound of her chugging water.

"good! i'm bloody exhausted though, they paired me up with the new trainer for sparring and he did not go easy." mary exhaled as she finished the entire bottle of water.

"you are actually a mad woman mary. do you know any other professional footballers who choose to do another sport with a load of intense training alongside football?" you tutted, never having been overly fond of the girls favourite pastime.

but you knew judo made her happy and acted as a form of self care and stress relief for the keeper, though not one you ever pretended to understand or enjoy forever worried she'd hurt herself.

"no, which is why i know i'd beat them all in a fight." your girlfriend grinned cockily with a wink making you roll your eyes as you dished up. "here, refuel karate kid." you handed her a bowl as she kissed your cheek appreciatively.

"karate is very different from judo its-" though at your raised eyebrow your girlfriend stopped her little rant. "have i told you i love you?" she smiled charmingly instead as you hummed. "mm not in the last five minutes you've been home, better pick your act up." you sat down and looked to her expectantly.

"mary!" you scoffed when she remained silent, kicking at her as she sat beside you on the lounge and sent you a cheeky smile knowing exactly how to wind you up.

"come here stroppy." you hurried to place your bowl down beside hers on the coffee table as she grabbed at you, pulling you to sit on top of her.

"i love you i love you i love you i love you-" she repeated over and over as she showered your face with kisses, your scowl melting easily into a lovesick smile. "better?" mary beamed, kissing you properly with a loud mwah and a wiggle of her eyebrows making you laugh.

"yes. now shut up and eat your dinner."

~

"baby come to bed, please! i'm tired and i want a cuddle." you groaned halfheartedly, unable to hold back your laugh as mary insisted on showing you a new move she learned today she'd spent a while perfecting.

"look babe i promise this is much more impressive when there's an actual person being flipped and not just my verbal description. promise! consider me your personal security guard, i can always protect you." mary assured as you shook your head.

"mary my love for the hundredth time i believe you, in fact i have never questioned that. now come to bed!" you laughed and made grabby hands which of course were ignored. "oh i know! you can help me demo, then you'll really understand." mary perked up as your eyes widened.

"absolutely not. mary-mary!" you squealed as before you could blink you were yanked from the warm safe cocoon of your duvet and your feet hit the carpeted floor of your bedroom.

"right. so as i was saying-" you continued to protest and it continued to fall on deaf ears as she just talked over you, walking you through the move as she grabbed your hands and swiftly turned you around.

"-and then you drop the shoulder, twist the wrist and flip!" you grunted as suddenly you were upside down momentarily before your back hit the mattress and you blinked in shock.

"see! way more impressive." your girlfriends cheshire like grin appeared above you as she jumped on top of you, legs either side of your hips. "do not manhandle me like that again i am not a crash test dummy!" you warned, pushing at her shoulders and flipping your positions.

"thought you didn't mind being tossed around baby." mary smirked, hands on your hips and pulling you down properly on top of her. "don't distract me with sexy talk earps. i. am. not. your. judo. partner!" you smacked her repeatedly with a pillow as she held her hands up to try and shield herself.

"i know...you're much better looking." "mary!"

you awoke several hours later to a scream, bolting upright in bed and clutching at empty sheets where your girlfriend had once been soundly asleep beside you, heart racing at her absence.

scrambling to your feet and cursing under your breath you looked around for a weapon, grabbing the first thing you could which was the bedside lamp, yanking the chord from the wall as you took a shaky breath.

but hearing mary yell out your name again you frowned, all but kicking open the bedroom door and brandishing the lamp around, swinging it as if to hit an invisible attacker with every step until finally you rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"what happened? whose hurt? was there a break in? do they have a weapon? did they steal anything?" you started to fire off question after question, alarmed greatly by the way the taller girls face was white as a sheet and she shook like a leaf, clearly panicking.

"kill it!" was all mary barked out shaking her head as you frowned. "kill who? all i've got is a lamp!" your own head darted around anxiously, taking in the seemingly empty house around you. "that! chuck the flaming lamp at it then we can get a new one!" mary demanded as you stepped closer and followed her outstretched finger.

"mary alexandra earps." you started slowly, placing the lamp down on the counter slowly. "please do not tell me you just woke me up screaming the house down at 3:42am...for that." you deadpanned, hands on hips and glaring her right in the face.

"baby less talking. more smacking or stabbing or burning or swatting-just kill it!" mary ordered again, backing away even further until she hit the counter behind her.

"mary. i thought we were being robbed!" you snapped, exhaling and rubbing your temples with your fingers, your half awake pre panicked state causing a headache to come on. "well he's hardly on the lease is he!" mary snapped back with a huff.

the 'he' in general was an itsy bitsy black spider, barely the size of a two pound coin, huddled just above the top of the fridge minding his own business.

"jesus christ mary you're literally a black belt in judo and you can't kill a tiny weeny spider?" you mocked sarcastically, rolling your eyes and turning to rummage around beneath the sink for the fly swatter.

"it's huge! and hurry, and its got those evil beady little eyes that are just following me around and-" you tuned your girlfriend out at that point, grabbing the fly swatter and within seconds all that was left was a small black smear which you promptly on your tippy toes wiped with a tissue and dumped in the bin.

"well now that seemed a bit harsh, you could have relocated it babe." mary chimed in, though at the very slow way you turned to face her, bags under your eyes which were narrowed into a murderous glare she paled once more.

"sorry, thank you darling. i love you, so so so so much!" mary tried again with a smile as you only hummed, flicking off the kitchen light engulfing her into darkness and stomping back off to the bedroom.

when mary joined you a few minutes later your face was illuminated by the soft glow of your phone screen. "what are you doing?" your girlfriend asked gently, rounding the bed to her side, still cautious of how you might be upset with her.

"opening all my online dating profiles back up, but adding in my bio that you need to be able to kill bugs to date me." you replied nonchalantly, the goalkeeper shooting up bolt straight beside you. "you're what!?" she asked in disbelief, scoffing as words failed to come to her making you chuckle with a small smile.

"not really, idiot." you nudged her as she sighed deeply with relief, laying back down in bed and knowing she deserved that after the wake up call.

"what are you really doing?" she asked curiously, head rolling onto your pillow as she squinted at your screen you made no move to hide from her.

"editing your wikipedia page to say you're a black belt in judo whose terrified of itsy bitsy tiny little spiders." you replied honestly this time, mary humming with a nod as she settled back into bed, eyes closing momentarily before they slammed open again.

"oh well thats a relief i thought that-wait you're what!?"

[finelinevogue]

stubble kisses

summary - tiny blurb about kissing harry with his stubble

word count - ~200 words

“Kiss me again.” Harry followed your head with his, bringing your attention back to him.

You smiled as you cupped his cheek and kissed him again, for what must be the hundredth time in two minutes. He just wouldn’t let you stop.

“And again.” He smiled when you pulled away.

So you kissed him again. And again.

“Harry, baby, I’m going to get such bad chafing if I keep kissing you with all this bristle.” You stroked your thumb over his stubble that he was growing out.

His stubble made him look so much older than he was, but you loved it. He looked really good with stubble, but also without. The only issue with stubble is the chafing, which is an absolute pain - literally - when you want to get intimate.

“Well I’ll just kiss it better then.” Harry started leaving small kisses around your lips and over your cheeks.

“Bugger off.” You laugher, pushing his face away.

You couldn’t get far though, since you were situated on Harry’s lap and his arms were held tight around your lower waist to support you.

Neither of you had moved from the sofa in the lounge since after dinner. You’d meant to catch up on each others days, but it soon turned in to a kiss here and a kiss there which turned into much more.

“Never!” He joked.

“Haarrry…” You laughed, managing to push him far enough away for you to duck your head into his neck and find refuge for a few moments.

All he could kiss now was the back of your head. So he did.

“I love you.” Harry said.

“I know you do.”

“Do you love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Love me enough to kiss me even with my bristles.”

“Unfortunately.” You huffed and you could feel Harry’s chest rise and fall with laughter. “You’re so annoying. Always get your bloody way.”

You sat back up and gave him a longing look, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“What?” He asked, watching you watch him.

“Just annoying how handsome you look with this stubble even though it pains me.”

“Thought you’ve always like the pain.” He smirked and you shook your head at him in disappointment.

“Shut up.”

“You’ll have to kiss me to do that.”

“Ugh, fine! If that’s what it takes.” And your lips were back on his instantly with no more complaints.

[girliism]

girldad!art who is currently shopping for halloween costumes.

“are we doing family costumes this year?” art asked you. halloween was in a week and surprisingly spirit halloween still had a few costumes. “no, she said she’s too old for that now. she wants to be a zombie.” you told art, picking up one of the zombie makeup kits. art made a confused face. not many eight year old girls wanna be zombies for halloween. “why a zombie?”

you dropped the making up kit into the shopping basket. “patrick’s been binging the walking dead with the girls when he watches them.” you reveal, having only found out a while ago yourself. “remind me to have a conversation with him about that later.” art mumbled.

—

“can we trick or treat at lily’s house? her neighborhood has better candy.” your daughter spoke, interrupting you trying to do her makeup for the hundredth time. “yes, we can if you stop talking and let me finish this.” you told her and she immediately straighten up and closed her mouth. but because she was an antsy eight year old that only lasted a minute until she was back to squirming in her seat and asking you random questions.

you put the final touches on her zombie makeup before picking up the mirror flipping it towards her. “alright girly, take a look.” you watched as her eyes and her smile grew wider. “mommy, i look so good!” she took the mirror from you to examine her face up closer. “let’s go show daddy.”

—

you and art stood in the kitchen while your daughter hide behind the wall. “both of you cover your eyes and i’ll count to three.” she order the two of you. “but i’ve already seen your outfit.” you said. she stuck her little arm out and pointed a finger at you. “both. eyes. closed.” she demanded with a bossy attitude you liked to pretend she totally didn’t get from you.

after peeking around the corner and seeing that both yours and art’s eyes were closed she walked out to stand in front of you. “ok, open your eyes in three …two…. one.” you and art tore your hands away from your eyes. “look daddy, i’m you but as a zombie!” she beamed.

“you look amazing! oh my god.” art smiled at his daughter who stood dress up in an all white tennis outfit that had little dirt and blood stains and her hand holding a bloody tennis racket. “we used the picture from when you and uncle patrick won the doubles as a reference.” she said. “i can see that.” art moved to pick her up, an action that was getting a little strenuous given how big she was now but he hasn’t throw his back out yet so he supposes it’s still ok. “you found my old hat and everything. and look at this makeup, mommy did very good.” he turned to you giving you a smile. “how did you come up with such a costume?”

your daughter took a deep breath getting ready to explain. “well, first i was just gonna be a plain zombie but there was gonna be hundreds of zombies tonight and i thought that was too boring. so i decided to combine my two favorite things, you and zombies.” she said with a zombieish groan at the end snapping her teeth at art. you laughed at their antics before clapping your hands together. “ok, time for pictures so we can go.” art let her down to the ground and she ran off to get her tennis ball looking trick or treat basket before posing up a storm for you.

—

“whoa, zombie art donaldson. awesome costume kid.” patrick greeted the three of you in front of the zweig house before high-fiving your daughter. tashi and lily soon came out of the house. “who are supposed to be.” you asked lily. “spider gwen from into the spiderverse. see mommy let me put in pink clip ins.” she showed off the curly pink clips that blended in with her hair. “nice.” you gave her a nod of approval.

more pictures were taken of the girls in their costumes standing in front of tashi and patrick’s halloween decorations.

“candy candy candy.” lily and your daughter chanted, their arms hooked together as they skipped ahead of you and tashi. art and patrick hung a little further back. “hey, patrick can i take to you.” patrick hummed. “could you maybe not watch the walking dead with two eight year olds.” art suggested. patrick scoffed. “oh come on. we just got to season three things are getting good i can’t leave the girls hanging. plus i cover their eyes at any inappropriate part so don’t worry.” patrick patted art’s back. art shook his head mumbling an “ok.”

—

the girls circled the block at least three times to get as much candy before heading back to tashi and patrick’s house where they traded back and forth until they crashed on the couch.

art carried his daughter out to the car bidding good night to tashi and patrick. once at home and inside your held your arms out so art could pass your daughter off to you to get her ready for bed but art said that he would do it.

“sorry, we didn’t do family costumes. i know you wanted to.” she sleepily mumbled. she had her teeth brushed and pajamas on, face clean of all the makeup that art gently wiped off. “you don’t need to apologize i’m fine with it. plus your costume was way better anyway.” art pincher her sides lightly. she let out light giggles. “thanks. good night, daddy.”

“good night.” art tucked her in tight and placed one last kiss on her forehead before shutting off her lamp and leaving.”

(happy halloween!!)

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

Yule Be Mine - Mattheo Riddle (2/3)

Part 1 | Part 3

The Ball was in full swing. All around the Great Hall, students were engaging with the festivities, the air buzzing with laughter and the soft strains of a waltz.

Mattheo played with the cuffs of his suit for the hundredth time that evening, his fingers itching to reach for the small velvet box hidden in his pocket.

He watched you—stood a few feet away, twirling in your gown as you laughed at something Lorenzo said, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him. It wasn’t fear—Mattheo was never afraid—but tonight, the weight of what he was about to do made his pulse race.

For the first time in his life, he wanted something permanent. Something real. And he just hoped you wanted it too.

And then, unable to hold back any longer, he walked over to you and leaned down, lips brushing against your ear. “Come with me.”

There was something in his tone—something urgent, something serious. You met his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. Without a second thought, you nodded, letting him take your hand and weave you both through the crowd.

Theo’s voice rang out behind you. “Oi, where the hell are you two sneaking off to?”

Mattheo barely spared him a glance. “Nowhere you need to know about, mate.”

Before anyone else could protest, he had pulled you out of the Great Hall, leading you through the quiet corridors of the castle. The further you walked, the more you realized where he was taking you.

“The Astronomy Tower?” you murmured, glancing up at him. “What are we doing—”

“Almost there, love,” he interrupted, squeezing your hand. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he looked… nervous. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

Your stomach flipped.

Finally, you reached the top of the tower. The crisp night air surrounded you, and above, the sky stretched wide, stars twinkling like scattered diamonds. The castle below was alive with music and light, but up here, it was just the two of you.

Mattheo turned to face you, his hands still gripping yours, his thumbs brushing over your skin.

For a moment, he just looked at you—like he was trying to commit this moment to memory. Then, he exhaled shakily. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I had this whole speech planned, but the second I saw you tonight, I forgot every damn word.”

Your heart stopped.

He took another deep breath, reaching into his pocket. Your breath caught as he pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your entire world seemed to slow as he dropped to one knee.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening.

Mattheo looked up at you, vulnerability written all over his usually smug features. “I know we’re young. I know people will say we’re insane. But I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.” His voice was steady now, his confidence returning as he held your gaze. “You are the best bloody thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re it for me, love. You always have been.”

He flipped open the box, and you gasped.

The ring inside was massive. An intricately cut diamond sat in the center, surrounded by smaller stones, the silver band adorned with delicate engravings. It was the kind of ring that screamed old money, ancient bloodlines—a clear Riddle family heirloom. It had history, significance, and weight.

“Mattheo,” you whispered, your hands trembling.

His lips twitched into a smirk, but his eyes were still full of emotion. “Yeah, I know. It’s a bit over the top. My family never did subtle.” Then, softer, “But it’s yours. If you’ll have it.”

You could barely breathe.

“I love you,” he murmured. “More than I know how to put into words. So, I’m asking you—right here, right now, just us—will you marry me?”

Tears burned in your eyes, but you barely even registered them because you were already nodding.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Oh Gods, Mattheo—”

He was on his feet in an instant, crashing his lips to yours before you could even finish speaking. The kiss was desperate, full of relief and love and a promise of forever. His hands cradled your face, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

When he finally pulled back, he was grinning—beaming.

“Merlin, I love you,” he muttered against your lips.

You laughed, blinking away tears. “Put the ring on me, you idiot.”

He let out a breathless chuckle, slipping the ring onto your finger. It was heavy, a little ridiculous in its extravagance, but it fit perfectly.

You admired it for a moment before looking back up at him. “You actually did it,” you whispered, almost disbelieving. “You proposed.”

His smirk returned, full force. “Told you I was serious, sweetheart.

You launched yourself into his arms, and he caught you with ease, spinning you around under the stars as the castle glittered below. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Because you were his, and he was yours, and forever had never felt so certain.

[heartschampion]

d1 clinger — chris sturniolo

PAIRING. chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY. your boyfriend is the clingest mf to ever exist.

CONTENT. fluff, um idk that's like it, kind of crack i guess, no beta, not proofread.

WORD COUNT. 675

even when you have to use the bathroom at night, chris won't let go of you at all. it's either you take him with you to the bathroom, or you just don't go at all. if you even try to escape from his grasp, he'll whine and pout until the end of time.

"chris, i'm sorry, but i really had to go." you sigh, trying to reason with your clingy boyfriend for the hundredth time that night. he simply pouts and beckons for you to go back to petting his hair. you roll your eyes, but do as he asks nonetheless. the two of you stay like that for who knows how long before chris finally decides that you're worthy of hearing his voice again. "take me with you next time, 'kay?" you snort, shaking your head fondly at your boyfriends antics. of course he of all people would want that. he really couldn't stand a moment apart. "fine."

walking together means holding hands through thick or thin, hot or cold. it could be the world's hottest, most sweltering of heat, and chris would still insist on holding your hand. he would rather deal with you complaining the whole way through than let go.

it was over a hundred degrees in la that day and all you wanted was to get away from the heat, but chris had another idea in mind. really, you should question why you were dating a man who insists on buying the newest addition to the lego botanical collection. to make matters worse, he would rather die than admit that holding hands was disgusting when all of your sweat pooled up in them. your hands were basically a pond of sweat. "you don't wanna hold hands with me?" chris questions, the look on his face just telling that he was offended by the mere idea of it. "no," you say with an exasperated tone. sweat. pond. hand. gross. you raise your hands up and held it up to his face, showing him what was wrong with the whole idea. "i just don't want sweat dripping down my hand." he looks at your intertwined hands for a moment, staring just as a drop of sweat rolls down onto the concrete ground. it leave a wet mark that will most likely be gone in the next minute with how hot it was. "there's nothing wrong with that." "ugh, chris!"

met a fan in the wild? he will find a way to keep his hands on you. do not doubt this man. if chris were to be a saying, he would be the embodiment of 'if there is a will, there is a way.'

you watch as the fan hugs the triplets one by one. first nick, then matt, and finally they arrive at chris. they stand there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach the situation with chris unwilling to let go of you. noticing their hesitance, the boy smiles and holds out his own arms, never actually letting go of your hand and wraps them around the fan warmly. on the flip side, you walk around the two of them, being guided by chris. you deadpan at chris, questioning if that really just happened. in response, he just smirks and gives you a cheeky wink. as the two of them seperate, chris guides you back to your spot beside him and squeezes your hand reassuringly. what would you ever do without your little big clinger? probably have some personal space, but who needs that these days anyways?

no matter what, you can could on your boyfriend to always be there by your side. he'll be there when you're sick, insisting that he doesn't care if he catches the same sickness that has you bedridden. he'll be there the day you get married, albeit he has to be there. he'll even be there as you have raging bloody diarrhea and get matt to drive you to the er.

chris sturniolo is a d1 clinger, but he's your d1 clinger.