#but still it's like walking into a room with a sticker on your forehead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

Text

Feels Like Sabotage | Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge.

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull.

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow.

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?”

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead.

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror.

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.”

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left.

#2 Daniel Ricciardo

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down.

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier.

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.”

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her.

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head.

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!”

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them.

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!”

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian.

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.”

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media.

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.”

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car.

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference.

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground.

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage.

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering.

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?”

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile.

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling.

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.”

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye.

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne.

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose.

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.”

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye.

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly.

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?”

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.”

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless.

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.”

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend.

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite.

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.”

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout.

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her.

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?”

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver.

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation.

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.”

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max.

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

2K notes · View notes

lovifie · 7 months ago

Text

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel 🩷

Masterlist - Taglist Form

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 (6.5k words!)

LAST CHAPTER

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

(if you are in the mood for some Ghoap smut just go ahead)

Warnings: Poly, where do I begin? Oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, vaginal sex, meany Johnny, bottom Ghost, a squint of body worship to reader, threesome (duh), Ghost gets sandwiched for a bit, and Johnny doesn't shut up for a minute

It would be a reach to believe that everything was settled between the three.

It has been “talked”, but there was still an awkward film over them; that whenever they would lock eyes felt like they were teenagers talking to their crushes.

Gladly, for everyone, work was still work, and it kept them busy as always.

The med bay keeping you away from them, on the completely opposite side of the base; taking care of whiny recruits and concealing your smile when they would tell you to tell their loved ones they love them after giving them local anaesthetic.

The days usually going uneventful and alone. Well, not alone. The medical team worked, ate and stayed together. But feeling lonely without the two men.

On the south side of the base, everyone could tell that Simon and Johnny were a bit… snappy.

It was almost as if everyone had made a deal to keep them from going to see you.

Price telling them to organise the training session.

Recruits asking them to help with the training.

Laswell asking Johnny to prepare a lecture on explosives.

Like? Why was the world making it so hard to slope off? Why was everyone expecting them to do their job they get paid for?

Absolute nonsense.

Instead, they had to keep sending recruits that kept getting hurt to you. Seeing them whine as they walked, about how they were in pain. Lucky bastards.

So text messages it was.

“Morning!🩷” Texts, voice notes as you worked on something else, GIFs and Stickers back and forth.

Reminding Johnny how the newest smartphones worked was the funniest of the afternoon you had spent, especially when he turned on the front camera and he could only see from his eyes up.

“Shite, that's a big ass forehead. Could land an heli there”

Cue to Simon and you playing tic-tac-toe on his forehead via pics back and forth.

It was far, really far, for a conventional relationship, even for a poly relationship. And although whenever Johnny would managed to send a pic of Simon it made you feel you were an outsider to them; you had to remind yourself that he had taken the photo just to send it to you.

Slowly but surely, your gallery was filling up with pics of their faces, an obscene amount of Johnny's forehead pic as well, and when finally, the inexhaustible flow of scratched soldiers finally started to subdue; you bolted to Simon's room.

You don't even think of an excuse as to why you are going to see them, and you realize, half way there… that you don't need an excuse. And that simply wanting to see them is a reason good enough.

It hasn't been easy after the conversations, your mind still telling you they were using you; it was not something you simply forget after a good night sleep. But you still pushed yourself to believe them, that there wasnt any hidden intentions, that they were telling the truth.

The messages, the little calls, the sassy winks from across the training grounds, it all help to ease the feeling of intruding you had been feeling since catching them. Slowly but surely travelling to the back of your mind, to the box of things to be forgotten. Except the box spilled suddenly when you open the door to his room, and find them sitting on his bed.

With Johnny sitting on top of Simon's lap, grinding down against his groyne while their moans and whispers fall on eachother mouths.

Their head whip in your direction at the sound of the door opening. You can see the panic in their eyes, thinking they have been caught; relaxing only when they realize it is you.

“Shit, wow, sorry, I need to start knocking, ah?” You ask, with an awkward chuckle, you hand still on the knob. “S-sorry, I'll leave you to it.”

You barely move the door an inch before Johnny calls for you. “Bonnie, wait!’

“What?” You ask, still from the door, cheeks red from embarrassment.

“Do you… do you want to join?” Johnny asks, a shyness so improper of him. Looking at you, with a hand on Simon's shoulder and the other extended to you.

You feel frozen in place. It was something that was going to happen, sooner or later. It shouldn't have caught so much surprise, but you only find your voice when Johnny stands up to walk towards you. “Do… Do you want me to join??” You ask, looking up at him with a timid voice.

“Yes, fuck, yeah we do.” He answers, a deep chuckle flooding between words. He licks his lips, probably wet from Simon's mouth. His hand still waiting for yours, his eyes soft, awaiting your answer.

“Oh…” You answer, you know, like an idiot. “Okay.” You finally hold his hand and he pulls you closer, a tiny smile on his face.

From the corner of your eyes you can see Simon move to lay down on the bed, his back pressed to the wall, laying on his side and patting the mattress next to him. Johnny nods with his head towards Simon, telling you to lay down without words and you do. Almost skipping to the bed, crawling to move next to Englishman.

“I like your uniform, lass.” Johnny comments, his wide hand caressing your ass over the clothes.

You lay down, hugging Simon closely with your head in his chest, buried safely in his arms. And you turn your head to look at Johnny, faux offence in your look. “Respect the uniform, MacTavish.”

Simon's chest rumbles when he laughs deeply, his hand finding his way under your shirt to rub the skin of your back; just like when he found you in the house, pulling you even closer.

“Darling…” Johnny says, laying himself next to you, sandwiching you between the two men. “I'm about to disrespect your uniform… a lot.”

He uses the lifted shirt from Simon's hand to get his own against your skin; caressing your tummy up to your chest, but still innocent when he only uses it as leverage to push you against him when he feels the need to kiss your cheek squishing your face against Simon's chest.

You giggle against Simon's chest, whining about being squished and slightly pushing Johnny back. He raises his head, being levelled with Simon and looking down at you; they then look up to each other before Simon leans in kissing Johnny.

You are seeing it upside down, but still clear as day the desire in the kiss. Simon leaned in, eyes closed and you felt his hand on your back lift a finger to hook it on Johnny's sweatpants to pull him closer. Johnny has his eyes just the slightest bit open, barely enough to see the other and he smiles into the kiss.

“Eager, aren't ya?” Johnny whispers, making Simon groan.

“Shut up, Johnny.” He mumbles back, the hand on your back moving to Johnny's back pulling him closer squashing you in the middle. “I finally have you both”.

When Simon pulls Johnny closer, you feel both of his bulging erections against your body; the make out session clearly intense.

It makes you turn, switching to lay on your back, still looking up. Simon moves to kiss down Johnny's jaw, kissing his neck, licking up to his ear; Johnny catches you staring, head falling back and mouth open as you shamelessly look at the two men making out, and he winks at you.

You quickly look down, ashamed of getting caught, and you realise then what the weight on your thighs was. On each side of your body, and still trapped in the confines of their sweatpants, both men's growing boners rest over your thighs.

You feel small between the two massive men, and your hands move on their own when you rest them over the tents on their pants. You press them against your body, making both men groan. You move your hand up, grabbing the waistband pulling it down with their underwear. The thick, uncut member resting freely over your body.

It's not the first time that you have seen either of them, but it is still a sight to see them side by side. Bobbing at the lack of attention, a tear of precum glistering on Simon's tip.

You hear Simon talk above you, making you look up to see Johnny looking at you. “Let her do her thing…” is what Simon whispers to Johnny, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss again.

Using your elbows to push your back off the mattress, you slide down the bed; your legs hanging from it when you get your head on the same level as their hips. You turn your head, setting your lips around the pinkish tip of Simon's shaft; hearing a grunt at the same time you feel a snap of his hips, not being able to prevent himself from moving.

You use your hand to massage Johnny's too, feeling the warm feeling of his skin in your hand; while you use the tip of your tongue to lick on Simon's slit, tasting his precum as you hear him whimper into Johnny's mouth.

With a loud pop, you let go of his shaft, only his head glistering with spit; and your turn your head to give the same treatment to Johnny. Except he lays his wide hand on the side of your head, making you lay your head back on the mattress.

“Stick yer tongue out, love” You do as he says, keeping your mouth open and your tongue out, the muscle twitching trying to stay still. Johnny fists his length at the base, giving it a whip for it to slap at your tongue.

The wet sound is nasty, the head of his member slapping your tongue. Johnny can feel your warm breath against his dick, feeling your saliva get stuck to him as well. Whenever he lifts it he sees the string of spit from your mouth pulling him back.

He switches motions, starting to glide his hips back and forward against your mouth. Simon's doesn't take long to join, only adding to the mess. You have your eyes closed, blinding tasting both men's scent, the musky smell leaving you lightheaded as they thrust smoothly back and forth, against each other and your tongue.

There is drool falling for the corner of your mouth, only making it more and more nasty. And the moans, grunts and whimpers coming from the men beside you has you sliding your hand down your body, towards where you feel your body crying for attention.

Except Simon, still in his pleasure driven mind, catches the movement, calling your mind. “Love, how are you going to have the two of us dying to touch you and still private us from it?”

The sound of his voice has you opening your eyes again, looking up at them and you can feel them twitching at the sight of such a blasphemous look. Your eyes blown wide and pitch black from arousal, a mess of spit, precum and sweat all over the middle half of your face, their wet and painfully hard members resting now over your chest, rising up and down harshly and your hand under the waistband of your pants. “I don't know…”

“Do you want us to touch you?” Johnny asks, his hand petting your head again softly and you nod timidly. “Words, bonnie.”

“Yes, please…”

“Let's take that respectable uniform off then.” Johnny jokes, patting the bed to motion you to move back up between them. You push yourself up,nestling between their bodies once again, and as if they had practised it before, they undress you at the same time they kiss you.

Simon is the first to have his lips on your, his hand cupping your jaw drawing circles with his thumbs. You hum into his mouth, feeling Johnny lick your neck, his tongue slipping between Simon's fingers as he starts to lift your shirt.

He moves down, sitting on his knees and kissing your tummy. His warm tongue getting a taste of your skin with each kiss. He pushes the fabric up, letting it wrinkle over your chest, groaning at the look of your sports bra.

Simon peels from you when he feels Johnny grumble about wanting to take them off. He takes the hem from Johnny's hand, pulling it over your head and Johnny doesn't waste the opportunity to do the same to your bra, leaving you bare from waist up.

And like a chain reaction both of them make their way to your breasts; Simon's kisses travel from behind your ear down to the swell of your breast, kissing your ribs before finally sucking your nipple into his mouth moaning at the feeling. While Johnny kisses your stomach again, burying his face on the softness of it, as he swiftly goes north, dragging his tongue from the underside to the side of your boob, before mimicking Simon and kissing your nipple.

Is also Johnny's hand the one that starts to run down your body, if it wasn't for the filthy sounds of kisses, licks and slurping filling in the room, you could hear the sound of the callous skin of Johnny's hand rubbing against the soft skin of your body. It is only when you feel his fingertips go under the waistband that you speak.

“Wait!”

And as if they had been electrocuted they both peel back, looking at your face. Except instead of explaining you stand up, jumping over Johnny to walk towards the door.

Johnny is quick on his feet, panicking that you will run; not because you couldn't go out but because they were afraid of having pushed you too far.

Still, he stops on his track when instead you lock the door. That was still unlocked. And turn to them, looking over your shoulder almost bashful. “You are not expecting anyone else, are you?”

Simon sighs relieved, sitting on the edge of the bed, that they had not overstepped. “Nah… got everyone we need in here.”

He motions you to walk to him, wanting you to stand between his legs and you oblige; pulling Johnny's hand when you walk past him.

You stand between Simon's legs, Johnny standing behind you hugging your middle. Simon kisses your stomach on the parts not covered by Johnny's hand and slowly lowers your pants. You kick off your shoes at the same time, standing completely naked between them.

Simon leans forwards, pressing his nose against your mound and sliding his tongue between your folds making you shudder. Johnny's hands travel higher, kneading your boobs in his hands while he buries his face on your neck.

You let your head fall back on Johnny's shoulder, moaning when Simon's tongue rubs against your clit. Johnny pities Simon, pulling one of your legs up to the side, giving full access to Simon who doesn't waste a second before diving in and dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit giving it a harsh suck making you buck your hips as you fist his hair on your hand.

Johnny shushes in your hear, his other hand travelling to your core from behind; touching you along Simon's tongue. And while Simon's focus is on your clit, sending shockwaves up your body, Johnny slides one of his fingers onto your weeping cunt.

“Fuck yer tight…” Johnny moans into your ear. “Are you gonnae choke my dick this hard or is it only cause Simon sucking you off, hm?”

Your only response is a moan in the shape of Simon's name, making both men chuckle. Johnny fits a second finger inside of you making you whimper as you start to move your hips from Simon's mouth to Johnny's hand and vice versa. Johnny starts to move his hand, finger getting sucked in whenever he tries to get the out; your wetness rolling down between his fingers when he scissors them inside and Simon notices, moving down to lick Johnny's hand, tongue dragging between his fingers and inside of you.

When you look down, the only part of Simon's face you can see is his eyes, closed in blissful satisfaction at the feel and taste of your cunt on his mouth.

Both of them feel you clench, your first orgasm of the night approaching. And it doesn't matter how happy he is to finally be together, of you forgiving them, of wanting to pay you back for saving him; Johnny is not skipping an opportunity to tease you. “Coming already, lass? Bit needy, weren't ye?”

You chuckle between moans, biting back. “Yeah… unlike you two little dickheads, shit! I-I haven't gotten laid in a minute… fuck…”

Simon chuckles against your cunt, knowing perfectly fine he deserves way worse than that and focusing on keeping you mind off of it. Johnny does just the same, curling his finger and kissing your neck helping you fall over the edge with a loud moan.

You slide down, Johnny helping you rest on your knees between Simon legs with your head resting on his thigh. Simon pets your head, moving your hair out of your face. You open your eyes, coming face to face with his still rock hard member, and you look up to Simon, questioning.

“Back for more already, love?” He asks, deep chuckle on his chest when you nod blushing just a bit. Johnny laughs too behind you, pulling Simon's hand slightly.

“I have an idea. Stand up, Lt.” Johnny says, kneeling beside you and helping Simon take off his pants. “Two heads are better than one, ain't that right?”

Simon stands before the two of you, looking down and finding both you looking up at him; getting distracted by his mouth watering length just in front of you.

And at the sight of his two little zombies, back from the grave, the two only person that Simon has given himself the freedom to love, the only two person Simon let himself cry for after burying you, the two only person he has truly love; Simon can't contain the tear that drops from his right eye.

He tries to hide it, throwing his head back; but you see it, see the tear glisten as it drops on your cheek. But you don't say anything, and neither does Johnny when he wipes it with his thumb.

You lean forward, leaving open mouth kisses at the base of his shaft while you feel Johnny suck on his tip. It makes Simon groan, the angle of his neck making it sound raspier.

You move towards the tip, feeling Johnny's hand rest on your nape. When you are face to face with him, you feel his tongue move under Simon's dick, looking for your mouth. Pushing towards the tip to be able to finally kiss you, the open mouth kiss revolving in kissing Simon’s tip almost like it was a third tongue involved. And although it almost feels like excluding Simon, the sight of his two lovers kissing around his cock has him moving his hips against your lips; smearing the spit over both of your cheeks again.

Johnny pulls back, making you whine against Simon's dick. “Open wide, love.” Johnny tells you, moving behind you and cupping your face from behind.

Johnny holds your head as Simon lets his dick easily slide over your tongue, and when you close your lips around his length Johnny pushes his thumbs on your cheeks, making Simon feel the pressure on his length. He groans, feeling your throat open around his length to accommodate him as he moves deeper inside of your mouth.

“Easy now, you both.” Simon mumbles when he sees your eyes water as he moves down your throat. Johnny chuckles letting go of your head as he moves, switching to stand behind Simon.

Simon follows him with his gaze, aware already of his plan and the scot has the nerve to wink at him before diving between his cheeks. He rests a hand on the back of yours and Johnny's head, moaning at the double stimulation.

Johnny is ravenous on the way he eats him out, fingertips digging on the meat of his asscheeks spreading them, his unquenchable thirst for making Simon moan driving him to push his tongue deeper.

While you on the other side keep pushing forward, your nose closer and closer to his pubic bone, your soft hands massaging his heavy balls screaming for release as you keep sucking him in making him whimper.

There is a point, when Johnny's tongue is so deep and your nose is squished against his happy trail, your tongue sticking to lick at his balls, that Simon feels his knees buckle.

“Wait, wait, darling.” He whimpers, pulling your head back with a hand on your cheek pushing back softly. “You too, mutt!” He says, grabbing Johnny's mohawk to pull him back without actual strength. “I want to switch… Lay down on the bed for me, love. On your back, raise your legs.” He says, petting your head and you nod as you start to move, stealing a kiss from Johnny's mouth as your crawl passes him.

You lay just like he told you, propping on your elbows to caress his face when he kneels before you. You smile. “In need of some more, pussy boy?” You ask, overconfident in yourself; quickly falling back when Simon runs his hot tongue from your ass to your clit, flat, splitting your lips and making you moan.

Simon chuckles, before turning his head back to look at Johnny over his shoulder, using his hand to spread his cheeks. “It ain't gonna prep itself, Johnny.”

“Fuckin’ hell…” Johnny says chuckling, slapping Simon's ass before standing up and going to his bag. Both Simon and you look at him, wondering what his intentions are and you smile when you see him pick the lube bottle from his back.

Simon rolls his eyes when Johnny shakes the bottle at him, teasingly. Johnny kneels behind him, slapping his ass again but keeps his hand on the taut meat to pull it apart. He moves down, kissing down his back to his already spit covered hole.

Simon sighs at the feeling, leaning on your touch when you pet his head, kissing your wrist before diving back into your folds. Sliding his tongue in circles around your clit, softly sucking it into his mouth.

It is quite the sight to have Simon on his hands and knees in front of you, eating you out and drinking your juices up like a puppy while you see Johnny's head peek over the curve on his ass.

You keep your hand on Simon's head, brushing his hair back as he hums against your cunt. Ah… Johnny's tongue… you are familiar with the feeling.

So you don't blame him when he stills on his movements, tongue falling out of his mouth without care as he moans at Johnny's tactics. Instead, you plant your feet on the edge of the bed, using your hand to grab Simon's hair and slowly start to grind against his face.

You see his eyes widen for a second when he looks up at you, not expecting being downgraded to a ribbed mat to grind against. Not that he cared too much, not with the moans falling so prettily from your mouth and not with the way you so desperately cling to his hair.

He's embarrassed of himself, of the weak excuse of head he's giving you. He should be lapping up your weeping cunt like a parched dog at its bowl, and instead he is just slobbering all over your pretty folds, barely able to suck at your clit.

But he can't focus any better, not when Johnny's tongue is curling inside of him in a way that has him wanting to push himself back onto his mouth, eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. He tried his utmost effort not to whine when he feels Johnny retrieving his tongue, moving back to his knees.

Johnny pops the bottle open, splattering a generous glob of lube between Simon's cheeks, making him grunt at the coldness. Johnny chuckles at him, his fingertip teasing at his entrance, pushing the lube in and he leans on Simon's shoulder. “Aww, bit too chilly for ye, Si?”

“Get at it already.” Simon grunts as an answer when you pull his head back, the tip of his ears red with embarrassment and lust. Johnny lands his free hand on the back of his head, pushing his face back against your cunt.

“You get at it, eejit. Got bonnie bored out of her mind, making her do all the work.” He teases Simon. You slap his hand, scolding him; not wanting Simon to feel bad. But Simon notices the way your ankles are shaking from holding yourself up grinding against him, and he moves his hands from the ground to around your hips, pushing you against his face.

He is resting on his elbows, holding your cunt at level with his mouth as he dives him right between glistering folds. Shaking his head in, his nose smushed against your clit, bending with each shake making your legs buckle; he slides his tongue in, curling it and feeling every rib of your walls drowning down on your taste.

Johnny smiles when your moans rise in volume, your head falling back, he lets go of Simon's head while petting his head like a dog. “Atta boy.” He rests his hand on Simon's shoulder, leaning to kiss his back as he slides a finger in.

Simon's eyes flutter closed, feeling his ass suck Johnny's finger in. He moans against your core, not relenting on his assault and soon enough Johnny is sliding a second finger. The stretch making him arch his back; and Johnny starts to pick up the pace, smiling when he notices Simon roll his hips to meet his fingers.

“Look at you, Simon… getting all loose and soft for us… you can’t wait to get fucked stupid, can you?” Johnny smiles, kissing Simon's shoulder.

But Simon is struggling, he desperately wants to get you off before doing so himself. He really is trying his best, but when he tries to keep himself from coming he clenches around Johnny's fingers only making it worse.

He can feel you are close, sucking his tongue in when you grip him, just a couple seconds more, he knows it. And then Johnny curls his fingers sneakily and Simon is coming all over the ground, moaning loudly against your awaiting cunt, unable to move and ruining your orgasm making you want to cry.

He feels bad, he feels really bad for doing you dirty like that. Johnny only laughs softly, just for him to start moving his fingers at light speed making Simon whine as he crawls towards you, away from Johnny who only follows him.

Simon hides his face in your stomach, moaning loudly at Johnny's attack, his fingernails digging into your thigh at the overstimulation. You whine Johnny's name, your cunt still spasming with the ruined release and Johnny finally pulls his hand back, slapping Simon’s ass.

“Move to the bed, Lt. You so fucking massive I can't even reach our girl.” Johnny says, teasing him even further as he moves to lay on his back on the mattress. Johnny stands up to finally take off his clothes, moving to kneel between his legs, grasping Simon's softening dick on his hand making it slap against his abdomen. “Look at you, Lt… I thought you promised our girl a nice fuck, what are you going to do with this?”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon says, moving his hand to caress your leg from where you are sitting next to him. “Just need a minute…” he mumbles.

Johnny spreads his legs, collecting the lube sliding down Simon's crack with the bulbous tip of his length before probing at his entrance. “In the meantime… Fuck, Si… C’mon, pretty boy… Open wide for me.”.

He starts to push forward, pushing Simon's legs as well against his chest, bending him in half. It knocks the air out of him, making throw his head back with the mouth open on a silent scream of pleasure.

He feels filled to the brim, and he hisses when Johnny starts to move his hand up and down his shaft. And although it is borderline painful, he can help the moans that fall from his lips when Johnny rolls his hips against his.

“Singing like a pretty bird, you are, Si…” Johnny comments, looking at you and seeing how you discreetly try to slide your hand between your legs, desperate for the release. Their poor girl, their poor sweet girl. Her two lovers right beside her and still feeling neglected of the attention she so badly deserves; too sweet to even ask for it. “Ride his face, darling. Don't mind if he can't breathe, that's what he gets for leaving you hanging.”

At the sound of his voice you instinctively close your legs, moving when you see him move his head to point to Simon's head; only to be met by his heart shaped pupils with his hand extended to you calling you in.

You move, sliding your legs over his head as you hoist yourself over him and look between your legs, seeing Simon laying with his mouth wide open, tongue resting over his lower lip waiting for you to sit down on him. When you take too long to do so, Simon grabs your hips, offended by the distance, pulling you down against his face, making you rest your hands on his chest.

He doesn't care to breathe, and if this is the way he dies? Well, he can't think of a more glorious way to go out.

Johnny snaps his hips, making Simon move and therefore grind his face against your cunt. And the harmonious moans sound to him just like a starting shot. He starts to roll his hips, picking up the pace and making the thrusts hard enough to make Simon bounce at them.

The moment Simon mouth is back on focusing on your core, you feel your orgasm turn around embarrassingly quick, moans and whines slipping past your lips in abundance. Grinding your hips once again against Simon's face who's moaning back just as much. Your body easily forgetting the offence of having gotten your release pulled away so harshly.

Johnny leans forward kissing you feverishly, making you cling to his shoulders as you moan in his mouth. He feels guilty too, it was his doing what made Simon unable to function, even if it makes him proud how easily he can get the man undone. So to silence his guilt, he lowers his hand, dragging it down on your body, until he reaches your clit; rubbing tight circles making you wail into his mouth.

“Fuck… Fuck, I'm gonna… Shit!” You close your eyes, letting your face fall into his neck, your legs shaking around Simon's head against his tight hold of your thighs with anticipation and you finally feel the coil in your inside snap. And out of everytime that Simon has been waterboarded this is definitely his favourite, drinking up every drop you are willing to give him.

You gasp for hair, your body shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm and Johnny moves his hand to your waist, keeping you up. “Good girl, what a fucking good girl you are, love. We are so fucking lucky to have you.” He slows down on his pace, helping you lay on Simon's body and letting Simon's legs rest around his hips so you can rest your head; your legs still over his neck, not that he minds it; leaving kisses on the back of your thigh wetting your skin with the moistness of his face.

Johnny pets your head resting on Simon's abdomen, stilling on his movements to wait for your answer. A shiver runs down your body as you mutter “fuck”, making both chuckle and you look up to Johnny.

“You broken, baby?” He asks, smiling.

“Not yet, Johnny.” You answer, wrapping your hand around Simon's still soft dick to lazily lick his tip; pulling back the skin to slide your tongue over his slit to taste his salty seed that ended up wasted on the floor. Johnny looks up to Simon, seeing how he tightly closes his eyes, throwing his head back with a deep groan.

It's the mix of Johnny's ridiculously thick cock rubbing against his prostate on each thrust and your warm mouth engulfing him in that makes him start to chub up at a record speed of refractory period.

You feel it in your mouth, how each bob of your head has your jaw stinging more and more. You look up to Johnny, staring at you in awe at the way you swallow the massive dick of Simon, timing his thrust with your movements. “Yer a fucking eye candy, love.” He says, caressing your cheek. “I can't fucking wait to see yer pretty face every morning.”

He moves his hand to the back of your head, keeping it in place when you have Simon's dick stuffing your throat and he rolls his hips deeper, as deep as he can; leaning his body forward just to feel your forehead rest over his pubic bone.

He pulls back, letting you move back as you pull Simon's cock out of your throat letting it fall on Simon's abdomen with a wet thud, his length finally on his full size again, spit connecting it to your lips as you breathe harshly. Simon groans, the air of the room cold in comparison with your warm mouth.

Johnny picks you up, making you sit over Simon's dick with your back pressed against his chest. “Are you gonna ride his dick like a good girl, love? Hm? Gonna help me fuck him silly?” He asks, making you nod as you whine at his words.

You move a hand down, wrapping it around Simon's base and sitting down on it. The wetness of his length and the arousal still dripping from your cunt the only relief of the stretch of his dick.

You sit down smoothly, moaning incoherent words as you use your hand to rest on Simon's chest. And for Simon it is too much, never has he felt this full and wrapped so tight on his life. The only reason why he hasn't cum already being his dick being barely back to life.

He looks up, at how Johnny is hugging you from behind, hiding his face on your neck and whispering praises while he keeps thrusting forwards. At how you have your head resting on Johnny's shoulder, the prettiest noises falling from your mouth as you slide up and down his length.

His two lovers, finally with him, and as close as he can. He wants to cry again, except this time is also for the overstimulation. He whines, weakly moving his hips to meet both Johnny's and your movement.

But he can't, his balls stuck between you and Johnny clenching with the need of release. He can hold it much longer but he needs to hold it, for you, for Johnny.

Johnny was right when back in th car he told him he was going to break the moment you joined the picture, how the two of you were going to fuck him stupid. Fucking Johnny.

But Simon is not the only one affected, he sees how Johnny's eyebrows furrow, trying his best to keep himself from coming undone, holding himself back so nicely like the good boy he is. So Simon can't let him updo him, resting his hands on your hips; moving his thumb lower to circle your clit.

Johnny's hands move lower, interlocking his fingers with Simon's on your hips; using you to push Simon back against his hips.

And like a chain reaction, when you finally fall over the edge with a silent scream as little white dots fill your vision, Simon spurs thick ropes of his seed deep into your cunt when he feels you clench. Leaving Johnny freedom to snap his hips fast against him looking for his release, moaning beautifully when he also spills deep inside of Simon.

You lay over Simon's chest, Johnny laying next to Simon and pulling you in the middle, kissing your shoulder. The warmth from both bodies surrounding you making you feel the safest you have ever been.

It’s a comfortable silence, basking on the afterglow of an amazing session that has left the three of you unable to move right. Three pairs of legs tangled together, Johnny's arm over your body keeping you close to Simon and him. The silence only breaks when you speak.

“Does this mean we are dating now?” The question making the both of them chuckle.

“We haven't gone on a date.” Simon points out.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Johnny asks behind you.

“Yeah! I would love to.” You say smiling widely.

And after learning all his life how to hate, Simon finally had reasons to teach himself how to love. Because all this new range of emotions, of wants, of needs, of reasons to smile, to wake up in the morning; the origin of it all are lying right next to him, talking about where they want to go on said date.

Simon Riley was a man that died years ago, the soldier nicknamed as Ghost pulling his corspe out of his grave. And after so many years of killing, torturing and ignoring every human emotion from his cold heart; he is finally starting to see himself in the mirror.

The three of them having their own strange death, still coming back with more of their pieces intact, and getting drawn together like a magnet. Maybe it was just normal, no one can understand what is like to die as good as somebody who has done it too, maybe it was destiny way to apologise to almost actually killing them; or maybe it was simply and normal attraction that started the moment every one of them met the rest, and the three were too prideful, too coward or too insecure to actually recognise the feelings as such.

And maybe, in the future, when Johnny’s memory is complete again; he will admit to them how he started to have slim flashbacks of them before the accident. Glimpses of their faces, of nicknames, of kisses on the cheeks, of sighs leaving his mouth when watching them. But for now, he will keep them to himself, and rather that reminiscent on those past memories; he will build new ones, as his, and not as the man he was before the accident.

Many things could have gone differently if the tunnel had fallen on him, and luckily it didn't; because after all, well, he wasn't on that tunnel.

That's all, people.

Hope you enjoyed the "mini" serie, mini because in 5 chapters I wrote almost 25k words. But I hope you enjoyed every one of them just as much as I did. 🩷

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212

@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock

@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk

@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat

@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129

@idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune @crinoid90 @thatoneslvt

467 notes · View notes

himbosandhardwear · 3 months ago

Text

Steddie I Different First Meeting I Lollapalooza/Musician AU I 1.6k I SFW I Side Buckingham

Chrissy is talking but Eddie only catches every fourth word. It's not his fault, the guy walking in front of them is wearing the shortest possible shorts one could wear in public and not get arrested, and the back of his thighs, and the rest of him as far as Eddie can tell, are covered in little brown beauty marks. It's like walking behind a sexy train wreck.

“So what do you think?”

“Mmm?”

“Eddie! This is important! Pay attention.”

He finally looks away. “Yeah. Italian. Whatever.”

She rolls her eyes. “I already decided on dinner, you jackass. I'm talking about going home for Thanksgiving.”

That's a huge no. He scrunches his nose to indicate how stupid an idea he thinks that is.

Before she can further berate him, the guy and his girlfriend stop at a random door and walk inside. He's devastated. His soulmate, lost forever!

“Oh, that's actually on our list!” Chrissy says, stopping him with an arm. “You wanna just go now?”

Eddie's so in his own head he doesn't understand what she's talking about until he reads the door and sees ‘Medieval Torture Museum.’

Eddie has a full blown joy filled conniption on the sidewalk. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” He grabs her and shoves her towards the door.

“Asshole, this is silk,” she mumbles.

He ignores her. His mole-covered soulmate is still in line, so Eddie gets to stand directly behind him while they wait. His hair is so swoopy. He wants to jam his fingers in it and fuck it up.

“Welcome to the Medieval Torture Museum,” a woman standing at the podium drones in a manner fitting a 70 year old Walmart greeter. “Please no flash photography and watch your step. Have a great time.”

Eddie watches as Soul Mate and his girlfriend make eye contact and attempt not to giggle. It's exactly the same thing he and Chrissy just did behind them.

Once it's their turn to pay and get their little stickers, Eddie is already foaming at the mouth to follow up the stairs. Chris dicks around, struggling to figure out where to put her sticker. Eddie swears at her under his breath while his Soul Mate gets away.

“It's silk, Eddie!”

Fed up, he takes the sticker from her, baps it onto her forehead, and runs away.

He's glad he left her when he gets to the top of the stairs in time to hear Soul Mate mutter, “I'd pay a drug lord to do that to my dad.”

His girlfriend answers, “I'll do it for twenty bucks and first pick out of his wine cellar.”

They shake on it in front of the mannequin display of a Columbian Necktie.

Eddie is more in love than ever.

“That's not medieval,” Chrissy points out when she meets them upstairs. She's unbuttoned the blouse enough for Eddie to see the sticker is now stuck to her collarbone.

“If you're gonna get nit-picky, I'm pushing you back down the stairs.”

She gives him a doubtful look. “Daria down there would save me.”

He huffs a laugh.

They catch up with his new boyfriend as they stand critiquing the Impaling wall, he follows as subtle as he can through the next room too. Luckily, there are other people mingling about, so Eddie doesn't look too obvious, but it's imperative he stay close enough to hear every comment made.

“That would fix me,” the guy says a lot, especially at the display of a man having his head squeezed until his eye pops out. Eddie can relate, he gets migraines too.

He does get distracted when Chrissy opens the door to the giant metal bull, because he can't miss the opportunity to try to shove her inside. She wails, kicking him directly in the dick. He drops her in favor of dry heaving the pain away. It's totally worth it because he catches Soul Mate watching.

“Don't even think about it,” Soul Mate’s girlfriend says.

Soul mate scoffs. “Like you'd even fit.”

“Bitch!”

They wander off.

Eddie waddles after, slowly.

He's reading a plaque about flaying when he hears the two of them mutter, “Henderson,” at the same time. He turns and finds them high fiving over a display of a guy with his tongue nailed to a board.

“Is this a sex thing?” Chrissy asks, holding up a metal cock plate with spikes attached.

“Without a doubt. I'd venture to say most of this stuff is. Also remind me to have something like this guy drawn up for wardrobe,” he wiggles the one with a boar on the front, “it's so me.”

“Ugh, you're the worst.”

He stops giggling when he looks up to find Soul Mate looking him up and down, not in a ‘I must have you’ kinda way but a ‘I know you from somewhere’ way. He's not a fan, that's for sure, a fan would've clocked him right away, stupid ball cap on or not. He's sweating his ass off in a sleeveless tank top and jeans, and his tattoos are fairly recognizable.

Eddie, not shy in the least, gives him a little wave, wiggling the metal boar dildo at him. “How about this guy? Think he'd fix ya?”

The guy chokes on a laugh, embarrassed to be caught looking but not so much that he looks away. “Only one way to find out,” he manages to say just loud enough for Eddie to hear, not so loud that the entire room hears it.

His girlfriend slaps his bicep. “Don't flirt with Eddie Munson!” She hisses. Not in a ‘you're standing next to your girlfriend’ kind of way but in a ‘flirting with famous rock stars is ill advised’ kinda way.

Hope springs eternal! “No, do. Do flirt with Eddie Munson,” Eddie, shameless in the face of possible love, says back.

Soul Mate moves closer. “Eddie Munson? The Coffin guy? Melted Coffin? You're the Melted Coffin guy?”

Despite the lack of musical awareness, Eddie is still smitten. “Sure. Melted Coffin.”

Chrissy snickers at his elbow. “Does that make you guys one half of Spoon Goons?”

“Ha!” Soul Mate's girlfriend cackles, holding up a hand for a high five.

Chrissy gives her a demure tap, actually blushing, like the useless lesbian she is.

“What's a Spoon Goon? Are you guys drug dealers? Why would she know you and I don't?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes up at him, the ‘I lament ever being nice to you in high school, you are embarrassing me’ look.

“They're in Scoops Troop, dumb ass. You've never seen them before because you don't listen to pop music.” She turns back to her new crush. “Sorry, he's allergic to dance beats. Also,” she looks back up at him, “where do you think your drugs come from? The Drug Fairy?”

“That was my nickname in High School,” he quips.

“It wasn't but it might as well have been.”

Eddie turns back to his Soul Mate and holds out a hand. “Eddie Munson.”

Soul Mate wastes no time shaking, grip firm, hands huge. “Steve Harrington.” He takes his hand away to backhand his friend in the shoulder. “This is Robin. Buckley. Platonic Soul Mate and huge cock block.”

“Huge Cock Block was my nickname in High School,” she says, shaking Eddie's hand and then Chrissy’s.

“Cunningham, Chrissy.”

“Holy shit!” Robin exclaims. “You're Christine Cunningham? Wait, of course you are, oh my god, I heard all about what you did to Axel Rose last year. That was fucking epic.”

Chrissy, still holding Robin's hand, goes scarlet red. “Oh. Ha. Yeah, he's a dill weed.”

Robin gives her an unwarranted snort. Though calling Axel Rose a dill weed is pretty accurate, it's probably the tamest thing he's ever been called.

Eddie glances over at Steve. They share a look. ‘Can you believe how useless lesbians are?’

Eddie nods toward their still clasped hands, pointing out the total lack of awareness on both of their parts. Steve snorts.

The girls go on a tangent of their least favorite artists to tour with, which is when Eddie gets while the gettin’s good and starts scooting away, Steve equally cat-like beside him. They back toward the next room, side by side, until they bump into a mannequin display of various ways to tickle someone to insanity.

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, distracted from their getaway. “That can't be right. That claw thing just looks like it would feel good.”

“I'm pretty sure I have one of those at home.”

Steve glances over. “Oh yeah? Where's home?”

“Currently, L.A. Originally? Bout an hour south of Indianapolis.”

Steve's eyes light up. “No shit? I'm from an hour north of Indianapolis!”

“That's insane.”

“Seriously. Ha.” He plays with the rope contraption on the Blood Eagle display. “You guys are playing tomorrow night, right?”

“Yeah. Nine o'clock. You guys?”

“Sunday at Four.”

Eddie nods, files that away. “The girls are probably gonna fall in love and try to move in together, you know that right?”

Steve shrugs. “We're in Sacramento at the moment, LA wouldn't be a stretch. I'm a wiz at U-Hauling at this point.”

“Good. So we should do our best to support them. Fucking immediately is probably the best course of action, you know, just to make sure we're compatible.”

Steve doesn't look over but Eddie sees his lips get tucked in, trying to smash his smile down. “You had me at ‘weird torture pig dildo.’”

“You had me out on the sidewalk, I would've followed you down a manhole.”

“Play your cards right, you still might.”

“I love you.”

They're still making eyes at each other when the girls catch up.

“Eddie, Robin and Steve are coming to dinner with us.”

“Yeah they are,” he agrees immediately, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulder.

“Did you know their drummer doesn't have any collarbones?” Chrissy says as they make their way back toward the front stairs.

“Holy fuck, Cunningham, I'm already a sure thing, you don't have to keep selling it.”

#i started this last month #when i was actually at Lolla #i did visit the medieval torture museum too #highly recommend #anyway #steddie #ficlet #my writing

277 notes · View notes

whiskehorange · 2 years ago

Text

How the Slashers Would Treat Your Stuffed Animals

literally pissing and crying writing this right neow.

Also, Happy New Years Loves! I wish everyone and myself a better 2023, I couldn't ask for better supporters ♥♥

Michael

Stabs them repeatedly when youre not home until theyre nothing but a shredded mess like an untrained dog and when you confront him he denies it like you've accused him of murder.

Wait-

Jason

Kisses each one on the forehead goodnight like he's going to be deployed in the morning. Comes home the next day with glass display cases for you to put your favorites/ most valuable in. Even buys them personalized stickers and trinkets to but in and on their box like he's assigned them their own personalities.

Freddy

Punches each and every one of them in the face as hard as he can like they all own him a grand each right in front of you, laughing until he violently shit himself while you scream at him to leave them alone.

Bubba

Gives each one their own day to help/follow him around the farm (carrying them around in one arm or aggressively stuffing them down his pants when he needs to use both hands) while actively getting them dirty with blood, dirt, and shit or tearing them in the process of being so unintentionally violent.

Thomas

Gives them dirty looks when they touch his stuff but actively grows very fond of them and shares all of the family drama and tea with them when they are alone. The dirty looks shift to you when you walk in on a heated tea spill session.

Brahms

Steals them from you.

Humps them.

Cries and denies taking them if you find them before he's able to "sneakily" put them back where he got them.

Billy

Refuses to acknowledge them and absolutely refuses to touch them, but buys you more and more whenever he's out by himself. When you leave the room he apologizes for ignoring them all day and adds the new friend to your collection. Has to turn them away when the two of you do the dirty.

Stu

Gives them all government first, middle, and last names and doesn't forget them either. Also constantly buy you new ones whenever he sees them and issues them names, social security numbers, and jobs before he even gives them to you. Makes them beef with each other.

Norman

Dresses up and has tea parties with them. When your not home. Writes and prints hand made name tags, name plates, bibs, and beautifully crafted invitations with their own messages for all of them. Spends hours making real treats for said parties.

Hannibal

Quietly passive aggressively threatens each of them that if hey even think about getting closer to you that he'll destuff them and use their skin as pillow covers, and will do so in front of the others. Insists that he loves them when you ask, shooting them dirty looks after you've turned around.

Crop-dusts them if you keep them waist level and will even grab them and purposely rip the fattest, wettest, most gut wrenching, stomach rumbling, room clearing, radioactive, leg lifting fart you've ever heard right in their face and throw it at you, flipping you off as he walks away.

Vincent

Makes them all their own little wax sculpture the same color as their fur and keeps them on a shelf above where you keep yours. Still doesn't have the heart to tell you that he stole one from you once to sculpt and accidentally dropped it in a vat of wax and had to dump the whole basin because it was ruined. Claims you must have just misplaced it.

Lester

Makes you homemade, roadkill fur stuffed abominations that smell like the wettest of shit and will set them right next to yours on your bed/shelf. Can never remember the names of your stuffed ones and called them something not even close to what they are, thinking he's 100% right. Pets them unconsciously if he's standing next to them and just mindlessly talking.

#michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #freddy krueger x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #horror

6K notes · View notes

babywriter · 1 year ago

Text

Jenny was a cheerleader at your school and, maybe it was the uniform, you thought she was cute. And she was, but a lot of guys were a little uneasy around her since she wore diapers, pigtails and came across as a little childish. Not that she minded. Clearly, she was at ease in her own skin and this had actually prevented her from becoming bullied or a social pariah. Always bubbly, always brushing it off with a shrug. So no one bothered her. Like most young women her age, she went to parties, kissed boys and hung out with her girlfriends. Most of those friends being cheerleaders themselves. You talked to her from time to time since you shared classes, and at lunch you observed her eating with her friends. Ok, fine it was a little stalker-ish, but you were trying to gather the courage to go talk to her. As always, she unpacked her pink lunchbox. It had Disney princesses on it which you’d think would get her some teasing, but no one bothered her about it either. She pulled out a sandwich neatly cut in triangles, some apple quarters and a juice box. As she was surrounded by friends, you thought better than to ask her out. When, maybe half an hour later, you found her alone at her locker, you actually did manage to walk up to her.

“Hey.”

“Hi!”

Following this incredible conversation, an awkward silence began since you hadn’t really thought about what to say.

“I think it’s great you wear diapers.” Her smile sort of froze, unsure whether this was a compliment or you were trying to make fun of her.

“Thank you.” She said extremely drawn out.

“I meant, I think you look cute. And diapers are cute, right?”

Her eyes went from panic-stricken to mischievous.

“Right.” she went. She took a step towards you. Her forehead was a few inches from your lips and she looked up right in your eyes. “So you think I’m cute?”

“Yes.”

“And you like that I wear diapers?”

“Yes.”

“I think we’ll be friends. Wanna come to my house tonight?”

A proposition that made you instantly flush.

“Yes.”

“Great! See you on the bus.”

Which is how you found yourself in the aisle seat of a bus going the other way from your house, next to a very pretty girl in pigtails and a diaper who had her pink backpack and pink lunchbox on her knees.

“This is where we get off.”

Strangely, a middle-aged woman was waiting just outside the bus.

“Mommy!” Jenny screamed as she went down the steps and jumped in her mother’s arms.

“Hello.” you said.

“Why, hello. Jenny, is that a friend of yours?” Jenny nodded.

The walk was short, but very weird. Your date was holding her mother’s hand throughout and when she overtook you to open the front door, you realized Jenny wasn’t wearing the jeans and t-shirt she had been wearing earlier. She was in her cheerleading uniform and it was a very short skirt. In fact, you could peek at her diaper. Which, yes, you did do. It was especially hard to avoid looking when Jenny removed her light pink Velcro shoes while flashing her padded bottom.

“Mommy, we’ll be upstairs.”

“Ok, sweetheart.”

This is going well...and all happening very quickly. Frankly, you thought you were going to go to town right away.

As you followed her upstairs, you noticed that a teddy bear had appeared in her right hand. When you stepped into her room you saw how childish, no, babyish, it all was. Toys, stickers and patterns meant for toddlers. She turned her head towards you.

“You can close the door.”

You obeyed, but despite your raging hormones, you weren’t going to go further without some answers.

“Jenny, this is a little weird.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Already, she was on all fours on her bed and looking at you with the sweetest of faces.

“When did you change? When did you grab that teddy bear?”

“Oh, that’s just what happens when I get home!”

That wasn’t really an answer, you thought.

“Humm, okay. But jumping in your mother’s arm and all that…”

“I love my mommy. What’s wrong with that?”

“You still call her mommy?”

“Look, I brought you here because I thought you liked all that stuff.”

“I do, I do. Does it turn you on?”

“Big time.” she giggled

“Great! Great! Me too!”

“Aww, so you got a wittle cwush on baby me?” she kept giggling.

“Yeah. Hahaha…”

“Mr. Teddy say hi to the handsome young man. Do you want a Teddy too?

“I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“Yes, but do you want one?”

“There aren’t many guys my age who sleep with one.”

“Would you have a teddy if you were a little girl like me?”

“Ok, Jenny, this is kinda weird.

“I love sleeping with Teddy.”

“Ok, that’s nice.”

“Are you just here for bouncy-time?”

“For…? What?”

“Bouncy-time.” And to illustrate, she bounced on her bed. “Come on, if you wanna have bouncy-time it’s now ow newer.” she giggled again. She even wiggled her padded bottom for you.

“I’d love to.” you said as you approached her bed. “But I’d like some explanations”

She sighed heavily. “I become baby when I go home, what’s the pwoblem? Now get hewe while we can have fun-fun!”

“What do you mean?”

“I weg- I we- I gwow little.”

She stroked a pose while her thumb made its way into her mouth.

“Mmm. Mmm.” she hugged her teddy bear tightly and dry humped the bed.

“Alright, it’s kinda hot.” you said.

“You likey?” Her pitch had gotten higher too.

“Yes.”

“Cwome.”

You finally came to her and sat on the bed. Gently, you removed her skirt.

“You jelly of my skiwt?”

“It’s a pretty skirt. You look very cute in your outfit.”

“Do you wanna weaw diapies too?

“Sure, I’d love to try.”

“Would you be baby if you could?”

“I guess.”

“I was wike you befowe.”

“What?”

“I was a big boy.”

You stepped away from the bed.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I wanted to be baby giwl. I woke up wike this one day. I had a new mommy and daddy.”

“And they take care of you?”

“Yesh.”

“Feed you, bathe you, everything?” She nodded.

“And your diapers, you can’t control yourself?”

“No. And I’m weally a giwl.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“Yeaws.”

“And you don’t…age?”

“I don’t twink so.”

You looked at her toys scattered around the room, her white diapers under her changing table.

“You say you can transform me?”

“Yesh.”

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s fowevew.”

“And you’d do this for me?”

“I wike diapie girls too.” she giggled again.

“No, no, I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s tempting, but…I’d need to think this over.”

“It’s okway. You’ll love it. You don’t have to wemembew you wewe a big boy. Wook.”

Laying on her stomach, she reached for a toy hung on the wall. A toy piano of some kind. When she pressed the middle key, the world around you instantly went to black. And just as instantly, you woke up. You had died, you had been reborn. And now, you were to forever be just like Jenny.

#ab/dl diaper #ab/dl caption #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #ab/dl community #diaper captions #diaper stories

2K notes · View notes

imshymorph · 9 months ago

Text

Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #captain price cod #captain john price #cod mw2 #captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soft!price

360 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 8 months ago

Text

Landslide -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: I was talking about military father-daughter balls with a coworker and as a fluff request to also cleanse your asks: How about Simon walking into his daughters room wearing his suit, going to ask his wife to do his bow tie because he's never been one for formal occasions and sees R/N is getting their daughter ready into her dress and doing her hair.

---- F!Reader, fluff, dad!Ghost, father-daughter moment ----

It's an old tradition that dads did with their daughters, something he never expected to attend and here he is, getting in his dress uniform. His ribbons, medals and the tight berret all decored him. As he was about to put his last medal on, he remembered the stupid tie. He was good at tying ropes but stupid ties that made him forget everything he learned were just…ugh where is his darling wife when he needs him?

"Bloody thing-" he gets cut off by a giggle from his daughter. Oh, that sweet sound that made him retire years ago. As his daughter giggles, he finds himself smiling and forgetting about the tie and the one woman who knows how to tie one is his sweet wife. Slowly, he finds himself walking to the bedroom, looking down as he tries to figure out how to tie this without looking and feeling dumb.

"And then daddy will dance with me?" your sweet daughter says and you nod. "He will and you best be on your best behaviour, okay?" You say as you fix zip her dress up and smile. Simon leans on the doorway and smiles. This is the life any soldier like him ever dreamed of.

He doesn't want to interrupt, this is a special moment after all and he hopes that this becomes a tradition. One that he can continue even with the little one in your soft belly.

Your daughter with a small pout asks if she will always be as pretty as she is tonight and before you can answer, Simon does it for you. "Your daddy's little princess, of course, you'll always be as pretty– no, you'll always be as beautiful and elegant as tonight, just like your mum," he smiles and winks your way.

He always has a way with words and always knows when to compliment you and your princess.

"Now sit still, I have to finish this braid," you softly say and smile. Your little girl is as eager as ever to go out with her dad tonight. And as you do her hair, Simons sits on the edge of the bed, watching you both.

He went from guns, infiltrations and bombs to having pink stickers, toys, dolls and bows all over his home and he will never complain about it. It's beautiful really. He knows that the change is so different but it's so good, he likes the car rides to and from school where he has to play two certain songs over and over. And Soap may laugh at him anytime he gets in the car after a night out and the radio station is on a kid's station but he is a dad and fuck does he love being a dad.

Once you place the last bow and apply the glitter to her hair, Simon is next. Here he was, standing like a little kid to have his mother help him with something. "I just don't get it, love," he says as he lets you tie the tie. You smile, tightening and adjusting his shirt, "Just takes time, Si," you kiss his cheek and chuckle a little as you have to clean his cheek from the lipstick stain. He smiles like a lovesick fool.

A cheeky smile appears on him as your daughter takes his hand, "We'll be late daddy." she reminds him and he smiles. He taught her well, that time management was always important and if he had to arrive at an event at a certain time, he was always there 10 minutes earlier and now so will his daughter.

"Alright, c'mon," he picks her up and kisses your cheek. "We'll be home at 10:30, alright love?" he brushes your cheek and kisses your forehead. "You and the little lad stay warm," he says as he closes the front door.

The whole night was amazing for them both. She received flowers when she got to the car because gentlemen should always give flowers on special nights and she always danced with him all night.

It is a night for the years to come, a new tradition that will heal the old wounds of an old soldier.

Tags: @liyanahelena @uniquecroissant @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @@konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @@foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @@sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

399 notes · View notes

mj-iza-writer · 1 month ago

Text

Whumptober Day 27

Voiceless - Labatory - Muzzled - "I have no mouth and must scream"

Whumpee slowly blinked in the newly turned on lights of the lab.

They peaked out of their cell to see who had disturbed them this morning.

"Good morning Whumpee", Whumper called from the opposite side of the room. Already knowing the rat couldn't stand the bright lights so early in the morning, "I'm in and out really quick, so you can go to sleep again. I just want to check on your surgery sight. I believe your laryngectomy was successful, but we need to watch your healing. I may also start your feeding tube a little earlier then normal. "

Whumpee remembered the tube just then. It was hard to get comfortable with it there, but they would be in trouble if they took it out.

Whumpee's cage was opened, and a small computer was placed in front of them.

"So how are you feeling?", Whumper walked away to wash their hands and glove up.

Whumpee looked at the screen and started to press word options that fit how they felt.

"Tired... sore.... angry.... sad."

"I understand", Whumper sighed, "it wasn't in my plans to do that surgery. Your larynx was badly damaged from the accident. It was in your best interest to fully remove it. You screamed in a lot of that chemical. You remember?"

Whumpee nodded weakly as they remembered. They couldn't even blame Whumper either. It wasn't Whumper that hurt them. They had to do the surgery because of how uncomfortable Whumpee felt after the experiment.

"That is the last time I let a student, quote on quote, try something", Whumper frowned, "you almost clawed out your throat, remember?"

Whumpee nodded, "remember", they tapped on the screen.

"Let's see here", Whumper came over, "you said it felt sore?"

Whumpee nodded, "and looked at the screen."

"Go ahead", Whumper pointed at the computer.

"Itchy....2", Whumpee frowned.

"Please don't itch it. I know it's hard, but do not touch the spot", Whumper studied the surgery sight, "it looks alright for right now. We will clean it later. Do you need some pain meds."

Whumpee signed yes with their hands.

"Alright", Whumper nodded.

"Why... nice?", Whumpee looked at them curiously as the computer spoke.

Whumper turned to them and grinned, "I can be nice when I want to", they held a glass vile up in the light for a better view, "like I said that test was done without me being aware of what they were doing. You got injured accidentally and you had to go through a unplanned major surgery."

Whumpee looked at them worriedly.

"Would you have preferred the fried vocal cords?", Whumper filled a syringe with the medicine, "you still wouldn't have been able to talk like that either, and it would hurt. Once this heals, you won't be in pain."

Whumpee nodded.

"Thankyou Whumper for fixing me", Whumper mocked in a funny voice, "oh your welcome Whumpee."

Whumpee grinned at the mockery.

"Here, let's get this into you. We might as well start your feeding cycle", Whumper came up to the cage, "that's another thing. Once this is done, you should be able to eat normally."

Whumpee nodded again, then offered their arm.

"Alright, here we are", Whumper said while concentrating, "do you want a sticker on your bandaid?"

Whumpee smiled weakly and nodded.

"You are the only reason I even have stickers. You know that right? I've never once had a sticker to offer a lab rat until you sarcastically asked for one, and a student bought you a sticker. Now I have an entire drawer full", Whumper meticulously placed the sticker just right onto the bandaid, "though I suppose it has gotten you and a few others to be more willing to work with me on experiments. So that's a plus", Whumper smiled as they stuck another sticker on Whumpee's forehead.

"Do you need anything before I get the feeding started?", Whumper walked away to get rid of the needle.

"Bathroom", Whumpee tapped the button.

"Oh yeah, you are probably dying by now. Here I am taking my time", Whumper hurried back.

They reached in and cradled Whumpee before pulling them out of the cage. Then carried them to the bathroom.

When done Whumper carried them out and set them on an operation table.

"Let's get you out of your cage for a few minutes while I mix your feeding cocktail bag", Whumper grinned, "don't jump off. You're still weak from the surgery."

Whumpee hung their legs off of the side of the table and swung them back and forth. If they could have. They would have hummed to annoy Whumper. They didn't want to attempt trying it though. Whumper had said they maybe would be able to vocalize some things, but language was gone completely.

Whumper watched them from the corner of their eye.

"I know you probably won't go straight to sleep once you get locked back up, but you need to rest", Whumper spoke over their shoulder, "this feeding will probably take you until lunch, you need to remember to lay on the pillow so you remain elevated. Let me know if something doesn't feel right."

Whumpee nodded, though Whumper hadn't looked at them yet.

Whumper flushed the line and set up Whumpee's feed.

"We will need to replace this line today as well", Whumper sighed, "everything will have to be replaced. Which is another reason why I wouldn't have planned this. Surgeries are annoying, especially when they have to be done correctly. My lab rats are not expendable. I can't just replace one if they get badly injured or die. This new set of students are driving me crazy. Human life is dangerous to play with. Especially with how I play. It's a waste of resources, which then is a waste of money."

Whumpee shrunk back farther into their cage as they listened to Whumper.

Whumper sighed, then looked at Whumpee lovingly, "none the less, you lab rats are my babies. So you deserve the best I can offer."

Whumpee nervously smiled.

"Alright, so I'll be at my desk. Do you want to play a game on here while you rest", Whumper picked up the computer and switched to a different app, "I know I said I'd be in and out, but I might get some work done, and I don't want you unsupervised."

Whumpee quickly nodded and got close again.

"There you go", Whumper smiked as they handed the computer to Whumpee and closed the cage door.

Whumpee quickly started to play the familiar game of squashing the bugs on the screen. It was their favorite.

Whumper watched them for a few moments to make sure the feeding was going in properly. Plus, Whumpee was absolutely adorable with that concentrating look on their face.

"My sweet little lab rat", Whumper chuckled as they walked their desk, "such a good pet."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

80 notes · View notes

ienjoywritingfilth · 5 months ago

Text

the blue burrow

what if you could have everything? Well, almost everything.

trope: sugar daddy PP character: Dave York x f reader summary: money has always been a hard thing to come by, so when a handsome man offers you everything you've ever dreamed of, you'd be an idiot to say no, right?

warning: alcohol. strippers. smoking. my usual friday night. just so you know this story is gonna get 18+ in later chapters

words 4.4k

wanna see my other stuff?

part i - the blue burrow

The parking lot is already packed when you arrive at the Blue Burrow in your black shorts and white tank top, a typical uniform for the girls that sell booze and food while the others dance on stage.

"Evenin' sweet thing," a tall black bouncer croons to you as you approach.

"Evenin' handsome," you parrot his accent with a playful wink as you make your way inside.

Randy the bouncer was the first person you met on your first day on the job. It was Randy who pulled the hand of the lecherous old creep in the third row off your ass when you froze up in shock.

You've been working as a server here for almost six months, saving up for more night classes. You couldn't afford college right after high school so years later you're finally getting back into your studies. The only issue is saving enough for both that and rent in a world that seems to grow more expensive by the day.

You make your way to the back of the club, past the gyrating woman on stage and the glassy eyed regulars in the front row. A few men sit near the back, a bachelor party by the looks of it. Those are usually good for two things: big tips and drunken fights. You pray it's the former tonight.

You open your locker in the back room, placing your purse inside before sliding the lock back in place. The club is in a decent part of town, but you can never be too careful. Unlike the others here your locker is free of stickers and photos, free of anything that makes it personalized. You don’t want to get too comfortable here.

A leggy brunette walks up beside you, covered in glitter, her lips puffy and glossy. It's Tiffany, one of the best dancers here. She's impossibly sweet and when she's not dancing she's working at the seniors home her grandmother lives in.

She looks tired tonight, her forehead damp, obviously having just finished her shift on stage. When she pulls open her locker you see the framed photo of her and her boyfriend in his truck from the summer along with a magnetic mirror, a bag of makeup and a few changes of clothes.

"Good night? You ask, watching as she pulls the stack of bills from her bra and tucked into the side of her panties. She packs them into the locker and closes it, giving you a wink.

"Great night. When are you gonna get your ass up there and make some real money?" Tiffany teases.

"As soon as I don't care what I look like naked," you shoot back with an eye roll as she giggles.

The truth is even if you had a figure like a Hadid sister, you still would never get up there and strip for the masses. You don't judge the girls who do; it's just not for you. And contrary to what the media wants you to believe, lots of these girls are like you and me. They do this as a job, meaning it’s professional, they have goals and dreams and they’re some of the nicest coworkers you’ve ever had. From your very first day they took you under their wing when men said disgusting things as you brought them beers. You’re used to it now, used to the gross way they talk and act.

You’re used to the stale cigarette smell inside the club, used to the streaked mirrors in the bathroom and the occasional coke-head you find in the toilets. You’re used to the smell of lotion the girl’s wear and finding glitter stuck to the bottom of your shoes. You’ve become used to a lot.

You walk back onto the floor ready to start your shift, going behind the bar to grab your ruffle apron and circular drink tray. You prepare to make the circuit when something stops you mid-turn.

"My girl!"

A slurred voice sounds out from behind you and you hold in a cringe. A man in his fifties wearing a Hawaiian shirt is curled over the bar waving at you.

"Hey Pat," you say trying to keep your tone happy as you approach. If your boss is around he'll be pissed to hear you anything less than chipper.

"Hi honey," Pat says giving you a weak smile. "Can you get me a beer?"

You glance over at Brian, the bartender and overall terrifying figure at six foot to and three hundred pounds.

"He's been here for hours," Brian tells you sharply over the bar as he wipes it down. "I cut him off forty minutes ago but he said he wanted to wait and see you."

“Thanks, Brian.”

You sigh before pasting a smile onto your face and heading over to the slumped-over figure who slurs something when you approach. It’s garbled, thick with mucus and alcohol and you can’t decipher it.

"You know I have to work, Pat," you say patiently. "Let's go get you a taxi."

Pat goes to protest but you fix him with a stare that tells him you don't have time to be messed with. Like a whipped dog he stands, trailing after you over the sticky floors, past the women who wave him out with sweet goodbyes. They like him, he never messes with them or makes them feel less than.

When Pat stumbles a third time on the way out you pull his beefy arm over your shoulder and you help him out the front doors of the establishment. He’s sweaty and reeks of old booze. You wrinkle your nose.

The two of you move past some approaching men who take one look at Pat hanging desperately onto your shoulder and then smirk at one another, murmuring loudly.

“Kill me if I ever get that bad.”

You glare at the two of them, about to say something when Pat’s sour breath is on the side of your face.

"I never see you anymore.”

"Been busy," you inform him, grunting as you attempt to guide him to the nearest taxi. "I thought you were gonna cut back on the booze?"

"I have been I swear."

“Uh huh.”

The taxi pulls up to the curb and Pat sniffles right in your ear, a wet loud thing that make you grimace as you pull the taxi door open. You herd him towards the taxi, trying not to let your irritation get the better of you.

"I just miss her so much," Pat says and you feel your heart break.

"I know."

He pulls back when you motion to the open taxi door.

"Pat, I don't have time for this," you say trying to keep your tone light. "They're already going to be pissed that I'm out here instead of serving drinks inside. So help me out, huh? Or would you prefer I lose this job?"

Pat's watery eyes meet yours. He nods and he now shuffles towards the open door of the taxi.

"There we go," you sigh, helping him into the cab, making sure he doesn't knock his head against the low roof.

When you straighten to go to the driver’s side you notice a man standing outside the club watching you, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. He's dressed in a suit, his dark brown hair tousled fashionably. He doesn’t look like the usual clientele.

For all you know he watched the entire display so far. The thought is embarrassing. You can't see his face but you're sure it holds judgment.

You shift your attention away and tilt down to the driver’s window to give the tired looking cabbie Pat's address.

"I didn't bring my wallet," Pat moans from where he's seated in the back. "And I used up all my cash inside."

You hold in the urge to scream at him.

"I've got it," you sigh, digging into your shorts for the rumpled twenty you put there this morning. It's the money you were saving for dinner after your shift. The shitty greasy fare they serve at your job isn't exactly stellar. But you'll manage.

The dough-faced cabbie takes it and you know from experience twenty isn't enough to take Pat home. But tonight you're hopeful he'll take pity. You give him Pat's address and he holds up the twenty as if disgusted.

"This won't cover it."

"C'mon man. It's all I've got."

"I'll take him twenty bucks worth," the sneering cabbie tells you. "Then he's out on his ass."

Thoughts of Pat in a gutter somewhere make you panic.

"I'll pay you the rest tonight after my shift," you plead with the cabbie. "All my tip money. Just make sure he gets home."

"This ain't a charity."

Pat is half propped up in the back seat, looking ashamed of himself and your heart breaks. You feel frustrated tears starting but you blink them away. Maybe you can borrow another twenty from Tiffany.

Before you plead for the cabbie to give you a minute to dash back inside a masculine hand moves over your shoulder, not touching you, holding a fifty in between his middle and pointer finger. The cabbie takes it, knowing full well a fifty by itself would cover the entire trip plus a tip. You turn, about to tell the mystery man just that.

Your words turn to sand on your tongue when you recognize the man from before. Only up this close you can see he's very handsome with pouty lips and eyes the colour of mahogany. The kind of handsome that ties your tongue. He smells amazing, something expensive you're sure.

It all combines to distract you long enough for the cabbie to take off with Pat slumped over in the back. When they peel off you have enough sense to step back, lest you get your feet run over. The man is still staring at you, his cigarette smouldering, forgotten.

"He scammed you," you finally croak. "Only costs thirty to get Pat home."

The man shrugs, watching the taxi speed off into the encroaching night.

"Thank you for that," you tell him.

"It's okay." The man surveys your face and his voice is soft molasses. "He always act like that?"

"Pat? No. Not always. He's a really nice guy. Just drinks too much lately." You swallow. "His wife passed away a few months ago and he's been a wreck ever since."

The man nods, taking a drag off his cigarette.

"I can relate," he finally says quietly.

You glance to see his ring finger free of any gold band and you understand his loss.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" He asks sardonically. "You didn't kill her. Unless you moonlight as lymphoma?"

His dark humour takes you by surprise. Before you can reply he offers you a cigarette but you shake your head politely explaining you don't smoke.

"I better get back before I'm fired," you say. He nods, wishing you goodnight and you’re fairly certain you feel his eyes following you until the door to the club swings shut behind you.

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

You're reading on your dinner break several weeks later when two familiar black shoes stop next to you. Gucci, if you’re not mistaken. Though you were never one for brands. You glance up the long legs to see the dark haired man from last time and your heart trips in your chest.

"Evening."

"Hi.

You're sitting in the alley between the club and the shop next door. It's clean and quiet and a great place to catch up on your coursework. A diet coke and crumpled bag of Cheetos rest next to you on the bench you’ve made of old crates.

The man glances at your seat before his eyes move to the book you hold, your thumb acting as your bookmark.

"What're you reading?"

You hold up the book to show him the cover.

"Tess of the d'Urbervilles."

"A classic," the man says lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. You watch the smoke curl around his lips, but its his chocolate eyes make you want to keep talking. “I was never a Hardy fan though.”

“No?”

“Nah, more a Vonnegut guy. Breakfast of Champions, Sl- ”

“Slaughterhouse Five. Of course,” you say rolling your eyes. “I bet you really love Kerouac too, right? Every man does.”

“And every woman loves the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen,” he lights his cigarette before motioning to your book, “and Hardy, apparently.”

"It's for the course I'm doing,” you laugh. He joins you, a warm chuckle sounding from deep in his chest.

"Which course is that?"

"English lit."

He nods thoughtfully, looking at you before glancing over to the stream of people entering the club. It's going to be a busy night. He must see your chagrined expression because his gaze turns sympathetic.

"You like working here?"

"It pays the bills."

“If you had all the money you needed, what would you do all day?"

The answer comes to you immediately.

"Paint, drink coffee overlooking the water somewhere warm," you smile dreamily. "How about you?"

The man looks surprised, scuffing the bottom of his shoes on the low brick of the alley. "Me?"

"Yeah," you nod. "What would you do if you had all the money in the world?"

Dave quirks a smile before answering.

"Try to make other people happy."

"Oh that's a much less selfish answer then mine," you say with a laugh that the man joins in on.

"I don't think you're selfish. Just honest."

He seems to be about to ask you more when the side door squeaks open and your name is hissed out by your boss; a stocky bald man that's is perpetually sweating.

"Breaks over. We're bottlenecking in here."

"I still have ten minu---"

"You'll have all the time in the world if I fire you right now," he snarls back at you. "if you'd prefer that?"

You sigh, wiping your dusty fingers on your shorts. You cast a look at Dave that reads this is my life. Dave is glaring at the bald man who ducks behind the door before you're headed back inside after your asshole employer.

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

You saw him the second he entered the club a few weeks later; the man in the suit. You watched another one of the girls wait on him, deflated that you wouldn't get the chance to chat with him again. You liked him, liked how he talked to you without raking his eyes over your chest or ordering you to fetch him another vodka.

So you were disappointed that it was the men who did just that, that you had to wait on that evening. You ignored their leers as they watched the girls on stage. You held in a grimace when they wafted their onion and beer breath over your face asking for a refill.

You try not to be jealous when some of the dancers come out to the crowd, offering lap dances. You see several approach the man in the suit - why wouldn't they? He's dressed clean, he's handsome, he smells gorgeous and he looks like he has money.

You hold your breath, covertly watching him as they approach him. He shakes his head politely, waving off their offers. He seems perfectly content to watch in the back row nursing a glass of whisky.

A pathetic part of you is delighted. It's not every man that can turn down Tiffany and Candi.

But the man in the suit catches your attention a short while later as you dropped off a beer at a neighbouring table, murmuring your name. You didn't realize he'd known it. The sound of it in his silky baritone make you break out in tingles.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

The man gives a calm smile up at you and you attempt to hide your delighted beam. He was hoping to see you. You can’t deny thinking about him lately, hoping every shift that he’ll be there. He’s become a bright spot to your shifts, a dream of something you’ll never have.

Men with money who drink top-shelf alcohol and wear fancy shoes. Men who comes to strip clubs when they feel like it and go home to frosty girlfriends with manicured nails. You imagine his apartment, sprawling, with leather furniture and massive televisions in every room. Despite his fondness for literature you don’t imagine bookshelves, only marble floors and sterile rooms. Plush beds for him to fuck pretty, fragile-looking girls on. Girl’s with trust funds or high-paying jobs, girls that smell like Dior and not old grease from the oil trap you often help to clean.

You’ve already got him squared away in your head, the handsome man in the suit. He’s not for the likes of you. But that’s alright, you enjoy his company when he gives it. You don’t want to ask for more.

He twists in his seat, lowering his voice to a purr that only you can hear.

"How much for a private dance with you?"

All the goodwill you'd held for him is lost in an instant. He is in fact just like the rest of them. You balance your drink tray on your hip, swallowing your disappointment but you keep your customer service expression.

"I'm just a waitress here," you mutter, your face heating under his scrutiny.

"I'm aware." The man nods his head. "I asked how much it would be for you to do a private dance for me."

You blink at him still unsure that he understands what's offered. But you've seen him before; he obviously knows what goes on in here.

"I don't know how to dance," you explain, fumbling for the right words. "Sexy, I mean. I don't know how to dance like those girls on stage."

You motion to one of your friends who is twisting around the pole with feline grace as men wolf-whistle. The man doesn't follow your gesture; he just stares at you with his arms folded over his chest. He has a look on his features that reads that's not what I asked.

You feel sweat accumulating at the back of your knees, the commotion of the girls on the stage and the men cheering making the room feel small and suffocating. Yet the man still waits for your response with what feels like cool appraisal.

Fuck it.

"Five hundred," you say, biting back a smirk.

Most of the dances are from fifty to a hundred for three songs in one of the back rooms. You know it's too expensive but that's-

"Done."

"What?"

The man is standing and pulling his wallet from his back pocket and you can see several crisp hundred dollar bills stuffed inside. He pockets the wallet, straightening.

"I'm good," he says. "Lead the way."

You stare at him a full moment before cheers for the girl onstage shake you. You nod, twisting and making your way to the back rooms. The champagne rooms. Rooms where the girl’s take the men that pay extra for private dances.

Randy looks you over, smirking as he unhooks the red ropes allowing the two of you to pass.

"Pulling double duty tonight are we?"

You give him a pointed look. Don't blow this for me. Five hundred dollars is a good chunk of your rent.

"Room three is open." Randy's smile drops as he looks at the tall man behind you. "Three songs, no touching the talent, you remain seated the entire time. Break the rules and you'll be fined and banned."

"Understood."

"Enjoy your evening," Randy says nodding at the both of you before hooking the ropes behind you.

You enter the room with its leather couch and dim lighting. There's a pole in the centre and on the far side is a set of speakers. Beside the couch is a bucket of ice and a waiting bottle of champagne. You don’t drink enough to know if it’s good or not.

"What's your name?"

He surprises you with this question. You glance over your shoulder to see him standing with his hands in his pockets, casual and nonplussed.

You think of all the things you've overheard working here for the past year.

Never give your real name. Never go home with a guy here. Never walk to your car alone.

"Aurora," you answer quickly, the first name you can think of as your eyes search the floor before they dart to his face. It's clear that he doesn't believe you, but there's bemusement in his expression.

"Sleeping Beauty," the man replies in a throaty rasp. "Nice to officially meet you, I'm Dave."

"Hi, Dave."

He smirks before taking a seat on the couch, looking sidelong at you. You swallow anxiously before setting up the speakers with the music player that permanently resides there, stocked with an array of sexy tunes.

You click the first one and the speakers blast a slow, sensual tango. You lower the volume a bit, so it's not so shrill but you don’t turn around.

You feel Dave's eyes on your back. Is his name really Dave? It doesn't matter. You have to dance for him. For three songs. You've seen the other girls do this. They rub themselves on the clients, gyrating along to the music. It can't be that hard, right?

You finally turn and make your way shakily over to him, forcing a smile.

Dave makes no move to touch you, no desire to degrade you. He simply watches you sway from side to side like a middle-schooler at a dance. You can feel the money slipping away second by second.

Here goes nothing.

You prepare to peel the tank top off your body, painfully aware that your old bra is full coverage and likely not the sexy piece Dave was hoping for. Neither is your body which can't hold a candle to the women he's been watching on the stage.

You hesitate.

"Do you want to take it off?"

Dave's voice reaches you as you consider your options. Five hundred dollars is on the line right now.

"It's what you paid for."

"I asked if you want to take it off."

You nibble at your lower lip anxiously.

"No."

"Then don't."

Dave continues staring at you with a serious expression until your hands fall to your sides. The first song ends, the next track beginning. He settles back in the leather seat, arms wide on the backs as if he’s watching a movie.

You shift from side to side, painfully aware that this is the most awkward experience of your adult life.

"Do you have a song you want to hear?"

"I don't really care about the music," Dave answers honestly. "I thought maybe we could talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah. Communicate. Exchange words." He smirks up at you before patting the seat next to him.

“You want to talk?”

“If you don’t mind.”

You hesitate a moment before striding over and placing yourself at the edge, prepared to take off if Dave tries anything.

"How's your class?"

"Uh, good, good," you answer truthfully.

“You’re still enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I am,” you smile. “No Vonnegut on the syllabus this semester so I’m in luck.”

Dave leans back against the sofa, chuckling a bit. You feel a flush crawling up your neck, but you maintain eye contact with him. He tilts his head slightly to the left, taking you in.

"Are you taking more classes after?"

"Yeah I wanna get my degree," you confess. "But classes aren't cheap hence me working here at night and at a coffee shop during the day."

"You have two jobs?"

He looks so incredulous you can’t help but giggle.

"Yeah."

"When do you sleep?"

"Whenever I can."

Dave nods thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin in thought.

"Must be hard."

"It's not easy," you confess. "How about you? How many jobs you got?"

Dave smiles at your question, showing off perfect teeth. This doesn't surprise you. Dave screams money and money people always have perfect teeth.

"Just the one."

"You like it?"

"Sometimes."

The third song begins while he glances around the small, humid room with its soft lighting and brass pole. He turns back to you.

"Why do you work here?"

You give him a sardonic laugh.

"Why does anyone work? To pay the bills."

"Yeah, but why here? At this club?"

"Because they were one of the only places hiring when I was looking. And because I don't have a degree it's hard to find jobs that pay well and I need the money. Plus the people here are really nice, sometimes the tips are good and I get a free meal every shift."

"I see."

The music ends, leaving the two of you in absolute silence. Only the muffled sound of the main room is heard. There’s a gentle rap of knuckles on the other side of the door, Randy making sure you’re not being worked overtime. You give a half shrug to Dave, almost apologetic.

"Times up."

Dave nods, not looking upset.

"When do you work next?"

This is another one of the rules. You should never tell a guy your schedule.

The only thing is you kinda want to see Dave again. Even if it’s just to sit here and chat with someone who finds you interesting enough to talk to. You so rarely have the opportunity to do that these days.

"Friday."

"Okay."

He stands up, pulling the wallet from his pocket. He pulls out the bills, folding them and handing them to you politely. Despite everything the action makes you feel cheap. You look down, shocked to see he left you eight hundred dollars. For three minutes of work.

He's moving towards the door where Randy waits just outside.

"Wait," you say quickly and he pauses, turning to look at you with surprise.

"I'm sorry, I lied to you before. Dances are only, like, a hundred max, not five. Here."

You hold out all the money to him, feeling ashamed. You did a terrible job, not worthy of being paid at all.

"Here,” you repeat, shaking the bills at him. “I didn't even dance."

You've never been one to lie and if he'd treated you like shit then maybe you would have kept his money. But as it is he was kind and gentle. He helped you with Pat. You don't feel right keeping his money.

Dave looks at the money outstretched in your hand, his liquid chocolate gaze moving up your arm until it leads to your down turned face.

"I know dances aren't five hundred," he says smoothly. "I paid what I thought you deserved."

"I didn't deserve almost a thousand dollars for a chat," you say huffing a laugh.

"It was worth it to me," Dave replies. "Keep it."

You hesitate and then finally lower your arm, shoving the money into your shorts. He takes a moment to linger at the door, a wry smirk on his face before he taps the door twice with his knuckles.

"I'll see you Friday, Sleeping Beauty."

#Dave York #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction

112 notes · View notes

sakusaur · 2 years ago

Note

hi i'm sick so i was wondering if you could write something about noel noa, julien loki (and maybe sae itoshi) where they take care of their girlfriend please ( i need fluff and cuddly)

hello anon! sorry to hear you’re feeling sick :( i hope this makes you feel better ❤️

how’d the boys take care of you when you’re sick

noel noa / julien loki / sae itoshi

sfw and fluff!

noel noa

immediately rushes home when he hears your raspy voice over the phone

drops practice and promises to make up for it to his coach and drops by the pharmacy to grab medication for you

when he sees you sick in bed, his heart aches so badly cause he knows how overworked you’ve been feeling and wished you didn’t push yourself so hard

cleans you up and makes porridge for you to eat before you take the medication

he’d quickly wash up and lay down in bed with you, cuddling you with your head on his chest and his arms around you like a bear

“you’d get sick too, silly,” you’d say and he will shake his head, pull you closer and say, “i don’t care unless you’d feel better.”

he kisses you on your forehead before you slowly go to sleep and he holds you through out the night

julien loki

like noel noa, he would immediately rush home

but instead, he would drop by the grocery to get ingredients to cook you his homemade recipe his mother taught him back in france

he quickly checks in on you, and starts cooking in the kitchen, occasionally walking back into your bedroom to see if you’re comfortable

you’re barely awake as he sits you up, and feeds you his remedy

“tastes good,”you mutter in between spoonfuls,”you made it?”

he smiles and cleans the side of your mouth if his thumb,”yeah i did, my mother taught me how to cook this when she was sick.”

you smile, looking at how soft his face turns when he talks about his mother back in france

once you’re done with your soup, he gives you your medication, tucks you in, and kisses you on your forehead before he heads back into the kitchen to clean up

sae itoshi

this boy PANICS when he hears that you’re sick

he panics cause he doesn’t know what to do

he’s tempted to call his mother to ask him what to do but he scowls, choosing to google instead

he grabs all the medication needed and made his way to your home immediately and starts fussing over you

“are you okay y/n? does that work? is it comfortable?” he asks as he puts a cool gel sticker on your forehead, hoping the fever would subside

“it is, thank you sae,” you smile at him as you watch his scrunched eyebrows relaxed.

at least you are still conscious to speak to him if not he’d consider carrying you to the hospital since he doesn’t trust himself

“alright, get some sleep now, i’ll get some food for you to eat when you wake up,” he brushes your hair away from your face as you lie down, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek before he leaves your room.

#blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #bllk headcanons #noel noa x reader #noel noa #julien loki #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #julien loki x reader

698 notes · View notes

keelt9 · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 8

Masterlist

We can hear the soft thud of some lights turning off, making me react and take 3 steps back making sure to put a proper distance between us.

“Ok, I… don’t… I’m sorry Max but I don’t like you.” Max smirks as I feel the heat of my face increase.

“I know, still I don’t believe you’re totally indifferent to me.” I scoff feeling the air full of tension. “If it’s that way you wouldn't feel kind of nervous around me.”

He slowly starts to walk right to me. I have decided to prove him wrong. I stand still, biting the inside of my cheek.

“See? Like a rock.” Max sighs, however he doesn’t know how to give up.

I didn’t even notice until I felt Max’s fingers tingle between mine that made me hiss. “A rock hitting by waves.”

I can’t speak because if I do, he notices the air I’ve contained since his fingers touch mine, he smiles with a bloody confidence that annoys me so much.

“MAX!” The screams of Ruppert give me enough time to take another step back and breathe, feeling a burning sensation on my hand where his hand was, forcing me to close my eyes.

The touch on my forehead makes me open my eyes. “Honey, wake up.”

I sat on the bed so quickly, scaring mom, standing next to my bed. “Thomas is here.”

She touched my forehead looking for fever, a sign that I probably have a cold. “Are you alright?”

I smile rubbing my eyes. “Yes, you scare me, that's all.”

Mom smiles and walks to open the big curtains of the room. It's a sunny day in London, the beginning of summer.

“Don’t worry, he guess you probably are sleeping so he’s having breakfast with you dad, take your time.” Mom said before going to the door one more time pointing next to me; a tray with orange juice, fruit and croissant.

I laid back one more time in bed looking at the roof; since that night that moment keeps tormenting me for a full week.

“I hate you Max Verstappen.” I whisper to myself, like every morning since then.

After 40 minutes I was finally ready. Thomas is talking with my parents in the living room clearly having a great time because of the way they laugh and Thomas keeps eating Mom famous cookies.

“Sorry for the delay.” As I enter the room I kiss my dad's cheek and push Thomas so I can sit next to him on the couch.

“I kind of expected to find you here, you mess up my <Good morning>” Thomas joked with my tendency of sleeping on the couch.

I stuck my tongue out. “Ha ha ha, so funny.” I take a cookie. “Let’s go, we’re late.” I kiss my parents one more time walking to the door.

“Ain't my fault.” We heard the loud laughs from mom and dad.

I bet sometimes, they see more frequently than they expected, that two kids walking to the entrance with our coats stuck in our backpacks, shorts stained with grass and probably painting, laughing as we back from school.

“Drive safe honey.” Mom asked Thomas in the front door, he nodded, kissing my mother's cheek.

Inside of the car it took him 3 seconds asking for the dark circles under my eyes along with a calm face.

“I have to ask or I should wait for you explote.” He asked, watching the road but with a smile on his face.

We’re going to Newport; Thomas insisted he wants me to see the advance of the house and talk about a few changes he will do, for the better; he feels comfortable if I see it at the same time he explained to me, making sure all it’s fine.

The sticker on my phone doesn’t help, intact like if it was new.

“It’s a silly thought, that’s all.” Thomas kept silent. “With time this will be over.” He nodded, didn't say anything else, eyes on the road and music on the car.

We stayed like that for 5 minutes until I exploited it.

I turn around my phone after seeing photos of Max enjoying his vacation, the social media is cruel most of the time. “Tell me something!”

Thomas laughs as I see the road rubbing my hands together. “Y/N, you know I’m listening, you speak, I’ll listen.”

He watches the map on the car. “We have 3 hours left.”

Like if I’m about to say the most complicated story I clear my throat and sit straight. “Ok, ok, ok, feel free of interrupting me at any moment, ok?”

Thomas laughs. “For christ sake Y/N, spit it out.”

I cover my face, I’m doing such a scene for something I swear I have under control.

“I think I like someone.” I whisper to myself, he just hears a mumbling.

“What?” Thomas lends to his right for I repeat it one more time.

I close my eyes, hide my face on my hands and…scream it. “I think I like someone!”

Thomas gasps but doesn't make a big show, like he said he listens… for 1 hour the full story.

“So?” He asked, raising his shoulders. “Oh, come on Y/N, the story of a boy telling you that is more frequent than you want to believe.”

No one could know that better than him, that was a constant anecdote everytime a boy related my last name with Lewis.

Bluffing lost in my thoughts, is the reason he asks a more specific question. “What do you see on him? What’s different?”

“What?” Thomas chuckles, taking his sight from the road for a second and seeing me.

“What happens that makes you believe this is real?” This time I chuckle darting my eyes to him and the window. “Come on Y/N, I know that fake dimple that comes for biting your cheek.”

I release my cheek, just remembering makes me feel shy. Thomas pushed my arm encouraging me to speak.

“Ok…”

That night after a quick talk with Rupert and Max, I easily found a way to walk away or that's what I thought.

Max screamed my name making me turned around gripping my coat tight but Max didn't say another word, he just keep staring at me, bitting his lip for finally after shaking my head walking away, let it a loud a <Fuck>

Thomas didn’t say anything, just stayed thinking. “It’s silly right?”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. “You see something, it’s just… I'm trying to guess what you see.”

“I don't know, but believe me, whatever I see keeps disturbing my dreams.” Strangely and annoyingly, it doesn’t bother me that much.

The house has made considerable progress, Thomas and his team have been working endlessly; the old house is far gone now, it takes the place of the structure of my new home. No walls or anything like that so you can see to the other side of the house where the old painting room and the big lemon tree reminds like always.

“I don’t get it, why do you want me here? Everything seems perfect.” I asked Thomas as we watched the house from the backyard, letting his team work.

“In case of one last change.” I know he refers to the idea of taking the painting room away and not wasting an unnecessary amount of money to keep it.

“No, I don’t have any suggestions.” Thomas scratches his neck, he’s clearly in total disagreement and it’s easy to notice that.

Coming out of the house a young woman appears, just like us boots, helmet and a vest, giving some instructions to the people who reinforce the structure of the room.

“Oh, there she is.” Thomas waits until the girl is in front of us. “Emma this is Y/N, Y/N this is Emma”

I heard about Emma, who is the second hand of Thomas, if he couldn’t be in some place, for sure she will be.

Emma smiles and shakes my hand. “I heard a lot of things about you is a pleasure Y/N.”

“The pleasure is mine, I mean I know you´re making sure I’ll have a home by the end of autumn.” Emma smiles, feeling shy for the way she turns her sight from us.

“Don’t be shy Emma, tell her.” Thomas raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, well, Thomas told me about your project… So, I was walking around Newport these days and I found an old farm.” Emma stops thinking I will interrupt her but I let her keep talking. “It’s a nice place for the shelter, from my point of view.”

Thomas giggles but helps her. “It’s big, really big, but yes, old, a big investment if you asked us.”

“But?” They have a good reason for mentioning that place, even suggesting it to me.

“You must see it.” Emma concluded.

I think for a second. “Are you going to take me or I have to find it by myself?” Thomas rolls his eyes.

“Oh my word, see Emma, get used to it because we have to deal with her for a long time.” I follow the theme through the house observing every room just like I picture.

“Count with that.”

The farm is 9 minutes away by car. When we take the small road to enter I see it, on both sides, big trees overtake it, at the end of it, green land.

It’s big, really big and by how the house and the barn are, clearly the people stopped living here a long time ago, at the distance is charming the way you can see the whole city.

“The owners?” I asked observing every corner in detail.

“Emma contacted them, if we want they’ll be here next week.” That leaves only a couple of days for Lewis to be here.

“It’s perfect.” I see Thomas and Emma who are waiting for a more specific answer. “I’ll make sure Lewis comes, after all, this is a family project.”

We drove back, we must keep working. I even found a comfortable space next to the lemon tree for me to work. Thomas let his team go earlier claiming it’s been months of hard work plus it’s Friday, time to be with friends and family.

Emma was walking outside of the house when I stopped her. “Emma, thank you, it's the perfect place.” She smiles before walking down the street.

“I’m in the mood for a coffee, you?” Thomas asked, standing next to me. I bluff looking at him. “I knew it, let’s go.”

Newport it’s a calm place, with my family we visited a couple of times when I was a kid, my favorite places were the beach and the local market. I spent hours on the beach walking around, swimming and from time to time building sand castles, the issue was I was terrible at it.

We found a nice coffee shop near the beach, where we can talk and fool around as always.

“So, are you officially asking her?” Mika is the topic of the conversation now.

Thomas takes the last bite of his dessert smiling. “Being honest, you seem more relaxed and who will say you have the trait of blush?”

“Ok, sneaky girl, let’s end this here.” Thomas stands to go and pays the bill. “We’re on time for arriving at my house for dinner.”

“Thomas.” I choke my head, he sighs looking at the ceiling.

“Soon, ok, soon.” He smiles and pinches my cheek. “Don’t make me nervous.”

A wide smile appeared on my face as I observed people walking. It's summer however the breeze could be cold at night, the reason why they have jackets on. Some walk home and others are ready to enjoy Friday night.

A small group of boys and girls caught my attention. They looked pretty excited for the way the girls grabbed their hands and the boys had his eyes wide open. I follow the direction of their eyes, curious about what makes them so excited.

I blink it twice and rub my eyes. If my vision doesn’t betray me, near the beach observing his phone is a blond guy with a Manchester University cap, black jacket and blue jeans is stolling glances from people.

“You must be kidding me.” I ran out of the store, I heard Thomas calling for me but I didn’t even turn around.

I reached him, grabbing him by his arms, turning around, not even sure if he's Max or not, with all the phones which already are focused on him; I remember he said from time to time would like to enjoy a day being anonymous, free of cameras.

Instinctively he pulls his arms from my hands. “Max?” He lifted his eyes, smiling when he saw me.

My stomach flips in an unexpected way. It’s clear I wasn’t expecting him at all, still it doesn’t surprise me; Max always appears in the most unexpected moments.

“What are you doing here?” The cold breeze makes my voice shutter, it’s really cold here.

Even Max looked so relaxed, his eyes made me feel observed in an intense way. “I’m enjoying my vacation…in a new place.” I learned to know that smile, he’s hiding something else.

I realize I’m still grabbing his arms so I let them go, crossing my arms, taking distance; <In a new place> that doesn’t sound so convincing. Before I could say something I felt my coat on my shoulders, turning around I found Thomas putting on me to keep his hands over my shoulders.

“It’s cold outside, you can get sick.” Thomas smiles but I caught him winking at me.

Confused, I return that smile to him, but my discomfort begins when Max takes a step right to me. It wasn’t just for the proximity of Thomas with me, in his eyes there is something else.

“A lot of people take care of you, it’s really good.” Max noted in a soft tone, still some things bother me.

I couldn’t avoid raising my eyebrow, I looked down for a moment, and I noticed the same tight grip just this time his phone is paying the price.

“Thomas and I have been friends since we were 5 years old.” It’s jealousy, Max Vestappen is jealous.

“A pretty long time.” Thomas added, hugging me with one arm.

I can’t help myself. I kind of enjoy that spark of jealousy on Max's behavior. Kind of charming in some way.

“Sorry, I have to pick this.” I didn’t even hear Thomas's phone, until he mentioned walking away so he could pick it up.

Max took another step close to me, the space between us makes more little in all the possible ways.

“Well, maybe it could be my turn to take care of you.” His voice is low and full of intention.

The way he looked at me made my walls tremble. I know my eyes betrayed me, surprise and a sneaky fun. I've been trying to keep him on the line, but Max it’s making this more difficult than I expected.

“Ready?” Thomas said, making me look right into his eyes, I knew it, he will be fine if I stay, finding out what I have too.

My eyes crossed with Max, I know this conversation it’s going for a path that could be risky for me.

“Could you take care of me?” The double sense of my questions made him clear I wasn’t referring just to my health.

Max smiles, the tension is more palpable, something I can't ignore.

I bite my lip, I see the small smirk on Thomas face, he already knew. “Hhm, do you mind if I stay? Last train it’s…”

“Train? I’ll take you home.” Max interrupts me with a proud face, looking at me then Thomas.

“Could you take her home?” Thomas tone implied the times I take him literally to his bed. “She’s not a big fan of drinking, don’t worry.”

“Oh my!” I cover Thomas' mouth with my hand. “You’re getting late, right?”

I feel Thomas giggles on my hand but he is limited to nodding, as I walked with him to his car, where I let him go.

“Are you going to be fine?” Thomas asked, holding his door open, I smiled pushing him inside. “If you need something, call me, one of my boys can help you.”

I leaned on his open window kissing his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“This is what it feels like.” Thomas breathes in slowly, while I choke my head in confusion. “Be the older brother of a little girl.”

“Get the hell out of here.” Thomas smiles at me as the engine starts, I wave my hand until he turns around in a corner, trying to calm the increasing beating of my heart.

I observe the people around me, it seems my silly attempts worked because people stop staring at Max, just from time to time glancing at him unsure if they are seeing properly.

I walked back where he’s standing, behind him the sun starts to hide painting the sea with orange and blue tones.

“So, are you going to tell me why you come here?” My question made him giggle.

“In a hypothetical way, I remember the places you have written in one of the papers.” Max shrugged his shoulders. “London, come on too obvious, Monaco, I already could see you, just leave me two options, Seattle or Newport.”

“Really?” I narrow my eyes, looking at him, but his laugh betrays him.

He hid his face between his hands, when he saw me one more time, his face was red. “I asked Checo, and he told me.”

That’s more credible. “I knew it.”

“But coming to the beach it’s mere instinct.” He stands proudly. “It took me two days actually.”

I laugh, touched by his effort. “You found what you expect?”

Max cleared his throat. “Actually more than I expected.”

It's my turn to feel my face turn red, feeling flatter for his own words.

“Ok, so, do you have any plans or am I just wasting a way to go home?” He opens his eyes and mouth shockingly.

“You’re actually going to leave me?” I raise my shoulders, resting importance.

“It was an idea that crossed my mind.” I was fighting to contain a smile, but seeing him perplexed was enough for me to let it out.

Max laughed with me, he extended his hand. “What about a sundown walk?”

I observed his hand shuttering if I should take it or not.

“Is it too cheesy for you?” Max jokes, the truth is I never walked along the beach with somebody.

“The waves increase at this hour; it could be dangerous.” I tried to change his mind, useless for being honest.

“Then hold on tight to me.” His words resonate in my head more than he could believe.

For years I was the one who Caleb supposed to hold on, holding onto him was something unthinkable.

Max smiles softly when I raise my sight from his hand. “You have any idea how much I love that color on your cheeks.”

He starts to walk with his hand tight into a fist, but I take it on the way, surprise him.

“Tight right?” Max nods, gripping my hand tight.

We spent the night walking on the beach talking about the most silly and serious topics like we've known for so many years. When our stomachs started to growl we drove back to London, it's hard to believe he even rented a car for moving around freely.

We ate a lot of pasta at an Italian restaurant; Mika won't feel proud of my dinner. The hours passed like there were minutes. I realized it was almost 10 pm when a text from mom asking if I'm coming home set my signal for going home.

Following Max's words he drove me home, safe and sound.

“Is it Hamilton's house?” He said as we entered the gravel road.

A big imposing house is clearly visible, surrounded by a huge garden and a few cars on the entrance.

“It is.” I smile, in his mouth you can read <Fuck>

He parked next to my dad's car. “Thank you for taking me home.”

I unbuckled my seat belt, “You want to come in?” Max giggles, shaking his head.

“It's fine, it's late.” I thanked him one more time after getting out of the car.

I hear the door open one more time. “Are you free tomorrow?” Max said coming out of the car.

I play with the keys in my hand. “Of course, after you finish your day of work.”

He waits for a couple of seconds and rolls his eyes in a funny way. “I know I know, you're busy.”

Max got inside of the car one more time, fully conscious of my answer.

He was driving back to the gravel road when I made him stop. “Max!” Coming out of the car, don't blame me, it's been a day of taking risks

I bet at least one person inside of the house could hear a distant scream and will be perking on the window, still it was the last of my concern.

I run where he's coming out, feeling my breathing increase, not for my 6 meters running.

“Can you pick me after 5 pm?” Max's eyes bright with a glimpse of a smile.

My eyes moved all over his face, nervous of his answer but he let it be simple. “5 pm will be.”

It was a shutter movement full of electricity running all over my body.

I stand on my tip toes grabbing his arm because he’s so damn tall, I give him a peck on his cheek.

“You scored a lot of points today.” I whisper to him, feeling one more time his arm tense on my hand.

He froze in his place, I took my chance to run back to the big wood door of the entrance.

“You'll look better in dark blue, I already can see that!” My lip will be sore for the many times Max makes me feel like this.

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine #lewis hamilton #mercedes #sir lewis hamilton

26 notes · View notes

outofmydepthatapublicbeach · 9 months ago

Note

could you do fluff abc's for Naomi? tysm <3

jj chats: yes omg!!! fluff abc's are so fun!! i've been dying to do another one so tysm for this request!!! love you anon! <3

warnings: RPF, no use of y/n

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

So Naomi basically adores everything about you, but if they had to choose something it would probably be your personality. They love it when you make cheesy jokes, or when you do something good for someone else even when you don’t have to.

B = Beauty (what do they find most beautiful about you?)

Naomi finds your face the most beautiful, the way it scrunches up when you smile. If you have freckles/birthmarks I could see you laying with your head in their lap while they trace over your face. If they woke up before you in the morning they would just watch you while you sleep (not in a weird way) and just commit each detail of your face to memory.

C = Call (how often do they call/text?)

I feel like with Naomi they would text you a million times a day with whatever thoughts pop into their head, and at the end of the day they would facetime you and it would be like a four hour call.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

I feel like dates with Naomi could be like either side of the scale. Like really chill eating out at a cool sushi restaurant and then the next day you are skydiving. And I feel like with y’alls busy schedules whenever you find time to go on a date you do, so they’re all very spontaneous.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

I feel like Naomi wouldn’t exactly hide their emotions, but wouldn’t like to express them unless warranted. Like if you noticed them upset and asked them about it they would fully unload on you but otherwise they’d kinda keep it to themself.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Honestly, I don't know. But they are pretty content with it just being you and them for a while. Maybe a dog or cat or two.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

I think they’d honestly love it, like you get them little knick knacks to decorate their office or like stickers!!! For laptops or water bottles or wherever else you put stickers. I feel like they would be one to get you flowers a lot.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

I feel like it kind of depends on the day. Sometimes they are all over you like holding hands, sitting really close, hands around your waist, yk the works. But then other days it's less touch but they show their love through words or actions.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If someone hurts your feelings, be prepared to restrain Naomi because they will beat them up. But if you get physically injured they will not be leaving your side until they know you are 100% fine. And even then they will still watch, just from a distance.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Naomi for sure jokes a lot, and sometimes in situations that don’t require it. But I think they’d do it as a way to cheer you up when you're down. And any pranks that they’d do would be relatively harmless, and never in public. I could see one time they pranked you and it went wrong and you wouldn’t talk to them for a day so they vowed to never prank you like that again.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Naomi would def do like little pecks on your forehead when walking in and out of a room or around friends. But when y’all are alone they’d spend their time kissing you, making sure you knew how much they loved you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you/love languages?)

To me Naomi’s love languages are words of affirmation and gift-giving. They would def get down with love letters too. I headcanon that they’d leave you little notes around your guy's place if they have to leave early in the morning. Also they’d love it when you praise them or show you love for them through your words.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Naomi’s favorite memory with you was when you guys first met. I’m thinking it was an blind date that Jo set up or something and she sent you and Naomi off in this older aquarium. I could see you two taking a bunch of photos of the fish and of one another and you both really hit it off and have been dating ever since. It’s Naomi’s favorite because it was your first memory together and it was also very fun.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

I think they’re worst fear would be you leaving them.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Naomi loves bowling!!! Almost every time you find yourselves free they suggest you go bowling… 9 times out of 10 you say yes because you love seeing them get all happy. Omg and say when MUNA and you hang out sometimes it's bowling, Naomi gets really competitive and it is very hot.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I think they’d call you the typical ones like babe and baby. But a favorite of theirs is honey, they say it's because you are “so sweet!” They also call you boo bear- ask a joke kinda!! Or like when they tease you about getting angry at something- “Aww if my little boo bear angry?” With like a pout on their face.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

I feel like Naomi likes spending any time with you, whether it be walking around a grocery store together or browsing through the aisles of a record store. But in all honesty, they much prefer you when it's just you and them. Like early morning when you both have just woken up, or cooking dinner together in your kitchen, subtly dancing to whatever song is playing.

R = Rhythm (have they written any songs about you?)

Naomi has written songs about you, but they are mainly ones they have kept to themself. They love you so much, so much they don’t want to share you with the world. Not even letting Katie or Jo see them, let alone sing them.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

I feel like for the most part there would be no secrets, maybe the things that would take the longest for Naomi to open up about are their fears of you leaving, or anything that is super serious.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

On the second date you made it official, you both decided on a movie to go see and then 10 minutes in decided you both hated the movie and left. You spent the next couple hours walking around and just talking. Then they asked you to be their partner…

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

I think one thing about Naomi is that they always want to know how you are. So if you come home upset and want space they will grant it. But they’ll stay close by to keep an eye on you. And if you start crying they’ll come out immediately and hug you, letting you sob in their arms. Then they’ll ask you what happened.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

They show you off every chance they get!!!! I think they’d keep a photo of you in their wallet, and one time at some award show party or something you caught them showing some random person a picture of you and saying something like, “I’m the luckiest person on Earth.”

W = Wild Card (random!!)

Okay so… they suck at cooking… Like one time you walked into the kitchen and they were using a pot to cook like eggs or something because they “didn’t think it mattered whether i used a pan or pot” You have since taken over cooking. Or have enrolled both of you into cooking classes.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

They can read you pretty well. But they leave it to you to say what you’re feeling. They don’t want you to think they are overstepping.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

I feel like Naomi would go all out, like at the beach at sunset, a huge long speech planned. Or it would be very spontaneous, like they wouldn’t even have a ring and all the sudden they would be asking you “Marry me!” and you’d be like “What?!” and they’d be like “What?!!” because they wouldn’t even believe they said it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Being in your presence. When they can see you and know you are safe.

#naomi mcpherson fanfic #naomi mcpherson au #naomi mcpherson fluff #naomi mcpherson x reader #naomi mcpherson fluff abcs #fluffabc #muna x reader #muna fluff abcs #jj writes #anon #req

66 notes · View notes

fluorescentbalaclava · 8 months ago

Text

training season's over

Chapter 6: Contact

Summary:

Contact (mil.) Contact with the enemy.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, seeing König again

previous: chapter five "R&R"

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

3 months later

"Listen---"

"---don't try to fuck us over. I know, Ghost, you tell me that every time," You whispered with a sigh, looking at him who was already looking at you, furrowing your brows. Already had the same conversation many times.

"Besides I've been on my best behaviour, you should give me some credit." You muttered, both of you were crawling on the ground, hiding in tall grass.

"Giving you credit for not betraying us? Fat chance," He mumbled back, making you roll your eyes.

Simple mission: Infiltration, one of your favourites. Ghost was against the idea of giving you that much freedom on the field, but Price decided that you were proven trustworthy enough to send you alone to steal some intel for an upcoming mission: coordinates for a delivery on the ports and its destination, that were kept inside a bunker disguised as an abandoned base. Of course, you were still wearing the ankle monitor, but at this point you got used to it, even put some stickers on it and Soap decided to draw a small foamy soap with a marker while you were taking a nap on the couch.

Price did allow Ghost to go with you to keep you in check, and watch your six while you got in.

It's been almost two months since Sage died, back on that private island, along with the Russian guard. And apparently Wire was born, as Soap considered it a more appropriate nickname for you, and quickly everyone followed, even Laswell. You had to admit that the double meaning behind it, alluding to the barbed wire you used that day and the fact that they kept joking about you being a spy was clever. You would still miss Sage, anyway.

On the bright side, they seemed to feel more comfortable using it rather than your other callsign, you guessed that it helped them to separate the “KorTac merc” from you. So, despite rolling your eyes when they first started using it, you grew accustomed to it. Although sometimes you didn’t turn around when they called you by it, forgetting your change of identity.

Ghost stayed back, letting you keep crawling through the fields alone. The breeze was nice, and the scent of the flowers was lovely, the ants not so much. Ghost freed one of the watch towers, eliminating the sentinel, and you secured a rope to climb, as he kept carefully shooting anyone who walked too close to his liking.

Ah, the coldness and the metallic smell of the vents, how I missed it.

After about 4 minutes you stopped, thinking you might have heard something in the distance, a muffled sound. After a minute or so of more silence, you decided to keep going until you saw the security room under you.

You carefully opened the air vent, putting the grill inside it, and with a swift movement you were down, your feet light against the ground.

The guard seemed distracted enough, not turning around and his face still facing the screens. Your eyes were fixed on him, as you took the knife out of your utility belt, holding it tight in your hand.

You crept up to him, knife in hand, and with a quick movement you grabbed him by the forehead to reveal his neck to your blade.

But something was wrong.

When you moved him, his whole dead weight fell to the side, landing on the floor. Lifeless.

You looked at him disconcerted, and just then you saw that the front of his uniform was already drenched with blood, the cut on his neck was still fresh enough to notice that someone got to him minutes before you.

"Maus?" You heard behind you, eyes widening and the grip on your knife tightening.

You turned around almost immediately, only to find König's towering figure about five feet away from you.

Back in KorTac you would joke to him, saying that it was impossible for the targets not to hear him coming, but now that you were in that place, he was silent, as if he materialized out of thin air. You neither heard or saw him, but a quick look around revealed an open maintenance closet where he was hidden, from where he heard some noises from the vent and saw it opening.

He recognized you on the spot, the way you fell from the vent as he peeped from inside the janitor closet, your hair in that bun, the way you stalked the man before attempting to strike. It was hard to recognize you with all that heavy gear, as he saw you wearing more scarce and light equipment before. At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't you, you would never wear camo and that 'awful military green' as you usually called it. But when he caught a glimpse of your eyes, he couldn't deny it.

You felt all your blood go to your arms and legs, staring into his eyes, the only part that his sniper hood left uncovered, black paint smeared around them, and he stared down back at you. Your brain immediately switched into survival mode. König was around 6'10” tall; you knew you were good, but you weren't that good, he would clearly overpower you in hand-to-hand combat. If you attacked him with your knife in hand, a quick strike on the neck could do, but you could also get yourself killed faster. If I reach for my gun I could probably---

But you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him almost jumping at you, his hands quickly constricting around your body...but not in a harmful way.

He seemed to purposefully hold back, his touch careful. One hand wrapped around your waist while the other went behind your neck, as he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, holding you tight against him, your arms trapped on the sides of your body. A hug. You felt almost embarrassed that you were thinking about killing him. On the other hand, he was just glad that you kept using that bubblegum scented body wash.

"Krass! Maus, ich bin so glücklich, ich dachte, du wärst tot und niemand hat über dich gesprochen und---" He started saying in a hurried voice, as you were frozen in his arms, still processing what was happening. You have him a few awkward pats on his back with your free hand.

"König, english?" You asked softly, and he pulled away, looking down at you once again. His blue eyes filled with concern, looking into yours with familiarity, tenderness.

"I thought you died! I tried to ask about you and no one would say anything" he said in the same voice, a mix of excitement and anxiousness. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story" you said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by him, who was visibly thrilled to see you once again, and still slightly confused. "I got captured."

"Scheiße..." He muttered, and you could tell he was frowning under his hood. He then looked away, seemingly thinking about something. Before he started again. "We could go back to KorTac, explain to them all of this, and you're one of their best assets..."

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. One of their best assets? Probably his fondness of your talking for him. You were efficient, good at best, but still disposable. However, you kept listening to him, as he got progressively more carried away with his idea.

"...they could even relocate you to another country for a while, and cover your tracks, then we---"

Could you really do that? Just escape now in the middle of this mission? Would KorTac even want you back at this point? Or be willing to spend those many resources in helping you? They didn't even talk about you to König when he asked. Then your eyes drifted to the screens next to you. Your thoughts went back to being sat on the common room, sitting in the middle of Gaz and Soap, and them laughing at you as you sipped from the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” mug they got you back in town. Price was a nice commanding officer, he was clearly experienced, and it was nice to be bossed around by someone who was actually in the field with you, rather than behind a desk. Ghost…was Ghost, he still didn’t talk to you when off duty, but he kept it professional while working.

And even if you and König were relatively close, you never sat down like you did with your sergeants with him, your talks were limited to sharing one hour when he was at base and conversations while travelling. You didn’t know what he liked outside explosives and sniper rifles of which he, very often and with a childlike enthusiasm, talked about. And this was the first time he ever touched you, let alone a hug.

When you joined KorTac, you ghosted most of your friends back home, completely going off the radar from them, even when they tried to reach out through your parents, your excuse was that you were too busy now. So, friends were scarce at the time.

And your parents. Fleeing would not only mean running away from the 141 but also from your family. Who would send them money if you ran away? The mortgage, healthcare, bills, they were too much for them. You didn’t see them frequently, but the idea of not seeing them ever again made your stomach turn.

And of course, you would become a wanted criminal.

"König!" He snapped out of his rambling and focused his eyes again on you, tilting his head.

"I can't" You softly said. Your voice too strained to your liking, as you looked up at him.

He still hasn't let you go fully, still embracing you, just put space between you to be able to talk.

"W-What do you mean you can't?" He said shaking his head, clearly confused. In his mind, it was the obvious course of action.

You felt his grip tighten around you, and your comm cracked.

"Wire, how copy?" Ghost's voice said through the comm, sounding slightly impatient, prompting König to look at the source of the voice on your shoulder, and then at you again.

"Almost there, need a sec" You answered not taking off your eyes from the man towering over you.

"Wire? Was that the lieutenant of the 141?" he said drifting from your face to look down to your geared body, as if he was connecting the pieces, trying to make sense of the situation.

“You are working with them.” He said as realization hit him.

"But why, Maus?"

"I have a family, König. I can't live on the run, and they offered me a deal if I worked with them…I…I can't go to jail" You explained, looking up at him furrowing your eyebrows in distress, and you pulled down your face mask, letting him see your face fully. If it was possible, his eyes became even gentler at the sight of your face, his gaze taking in every detail.

"Family…? I didn't know" He answered in a faint and soft tone, looking down for a moment.

Then he looked at you for a few more seconds, that felt hours. He felt conflicted.

König wasn't dumb, he knew that every time you spoke to him you only revealed surface level information about yourself. Except from your PTSD, that probably was too heavy a burden to keep to yourself. Then, his hand moved from the back of your neck to your temple, as he gently traced the scar that peeked out of your hairline, going into your hair. His glove was surprisingly soothing against your scalp.

He still remembers the day you were captured. The mission went wrong, Konni soldiers were waiting for you, it was a set up; he remembers the unsettling calmness in which you explained the tortures you went through in those four days you were missing. Tied up, without food nor water, as you were constantly deprived from sleep, waterboarded, tortured with electricity, beaten up…he still remembers when the initial shock faded, and was soon replaced by anxiousness, grief, fear. He knew well about that. He remembers when you finally broke down and confessed that you could barely sleep at night, haunted by memories of being tied up, in the darkness, alone, or of your captors beating you. He tried to sooth you, to explain to you it was normal, but you needed help. Weighted blankets, sleep with a light on, drinking chamomile before bed, he recommended you what worked best for him, as well as therapy. How he wished he would have hugged you like this back then.

It took you a few months until you went back to being fully functional, he tried to take you out of your room in the barracks for a walk or tea, when he was in base, which he admits wasn’t as frequent as he would have wanted. The first time you smiled again was while on a truck, going back to the safe house KorTac had in Berlin. You showed him a photo of the little animal figures you bought, he didn’t understand what they were exactly or their purpose, but he was glad they brought you joy.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out a sigh, finally pulling away from you, basically forcing himself to. He slowly reached for his belt, making you flinch and instinctively raised the hand with the knife, to which he rose his other hand in surrender, as he reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a flash drive, offering it to you.

"This is all the intel we found. There's a whole KorTac team here, I am leading Delta today. You and your new...friend, should go."

"König?" He reached for his handgun, spinning it on his hand and offering it to you.

"You moved too fast, you stole my weapon and shot me, and you fled with the intel. Nothing I could do to catch you. And I didn’t even saw your face, it was all too quick." He said with a sigh, but still gentle. You grabbed the weapon with a bit of doubt and inspected it before looking up at him again.

"I'm not going to shoot you. I could just knock you."

"Be serious, Maus." He said in a tone that said that it wouldn't be believable, and you would be mad if it wasn't true.

"It's okay, I don't mind" he said softly again, reassuring you.

"König, I'm not going to shoot you" you said in a firm tone, the one that usually made him slightly uneasy, but you were now met with a determined demeanour.

"Then they'll know I let you run away with the intel, and I'll face the consequences for my lack of judgement" You can't remember a time when you heard him so decided about something, let alone getting shot.

You groaned and reluctantly lifted his gun. You didn’t want him to get in trouble, he loves his job.

Thigh is out of the question, as well as torso. Feet are not fatal but crippling...

Shoulder.

He must have seen you aim there, taking a deep breath to try to ease your tension at the necessity of shooting someone who you consider close.

"Avoid the brachial artery, and if you could kindly avoid the---"

"Humerus because it's painful, and branchial plexus or you won't be able to move your arm. I know" you said looking straight to his shoulder before your eyes drifted back to his eyes. His gaze still fixed in you.

"I...I can't"

"Yes, you can, Maus. And we're running out of time. It's a 22. calibre, if you shot on pectoralis minor avoiding my bones and arteries, I'll be fine. Will be an in-and-out. Flesh wound. Textbook," There's nothing textbook about this.

You took another deep breath, your eyes focusing on the spot, until they drifted back to König, and his gaze still felt unbelievably soft, despite the situation. You have worked with him since you joined KorTac, your commanding officer…your friend. He saw you become who you are.

"Thank you" You whispered to him, gratefulness in your voice.

He nodded, and the way his eyes were creasing made you believe he might be smiling.

Across the hallway, Delta-3, who was shooting the last remaining witness with his silencer, heard a singular gunshot. Coming from the same door where their C.O. disappeared a few minutes ago. He quickly alerted the others.

König didn’t have a big reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut while he grunted before he told you to flee. And you thanked him one last time before you jumped back into the vent.

"Ghost, I have the intel, but I've been compromised. Building is filled with KorTac operators. Meet you at the exfil point." You muttered as you were quickly crawling through the vents again, hearing behind you screams in German and in English calling for back-ups. He was kind enough to give you a two-minute advantage.

You went down the rope on the side of the building, from the watch tower you used to get into, and ran as fast as you could through the fields. When you were half on the way you heard screams, quickly followed by shots on the ground and the trees beside you, before your figure was lost over a hill, making König let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You kept running until you saw the Jeep that you used to get there, with Ghost already sitting on the driver seat, the motor already on.

However, when relief was washing over you, panting from the long sprint over the hill as you opened the passenger door, you quickly met the end of a gun pointing at you. First you looked back in confusion…then in fear, but you raised your hands slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Ghost..." You managed to make out, your words were slow and careful. Your mind already too clouded with emotions from your encounter with König.

"KorTac, huh?" His tone was cold, cutting right through you.

"I didn't know! I even had to shoot one of them" Not mortally, and he let me, but still technically true. "Laswell checks all my devices, I never leave the base, you have a tracker on me. Hell, I can't betray you even if I wanted.”

Ghost was not one to trust, especially you. You were in the comfort of your flat, bought with your mercenary money, crossing paths with him, and pretending you weren't into his team like a damn leech. He had to admit you were a good liar in general, probably the reason why you were on the job.

"Simon…please." You pleaded, your hands still up, your voice almost a whisper. His jaw tightened, biting into nothing.

He knew that you were calling him by his name as a desperate attempt of moving something in him, to make him think of you as someone somehow familiar, to make him trust you. He hated that it somewhat worked. His eyes were locked on your face, studying it. When you would talk to him on the lift, or when you arrived to your flat, in your eyes, he could see that you were lying. It was just a hint, something quick, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it in the first place. But today he didn't find that, he saw something else. You were telling the truth, and you were genuinely terrified.

He moved his thumb, putting the safety back on, and lowered his gun.

You breathe again, your body is still tense, and with your heart still pounding in your chest, you quickly get into the car.

You spend the next hour on a very silent road back to the airport.

As every Tuesday night, you were in the common room, sitting on the couch with Soap and Gaz, watching the Great British Bake Off, a new season. You liked it, it temporarily numbed your brain, and having company was soothing.

"I miss the old guys. I still can't believe that cunt won" Soap groaned, leaning back to the arm of the couch. He had his legs over it, and a notebook resting on his legs as he seemed not focused on the TV but in the paper in front of him.

"Bonnie, can you lift your chin a bit?" He asked, to which you just raised your face slightly, complying. Still focusing on the screen, attentively hearing today's recipe.

"It's been like one month, get over it" Gaz said, and when he heard Soap's request, he turned to him, peeping over his legs into his journal. He saw a halfway sketch of your profile, along with other small drawings like your mug and a sketch of Riley. He then added.

"Drawing her like one of your French girls? Very smooth, MacTavish" he said teasingly, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, she saw my journal and she asked me to. Besides she is still dressed..." He said defensively. He had to admit that having an excuse to stare at you was pleasant.

“…for now," He muttered under his breath with a small smirk, jokingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"And I intend to keep it that way," You said back.

Gaz and you were watching attentively how one of the new contestants was putting his broken ganache aside, clearly frustrated as she started a whole new batch.

"She should try to melt it and whisk it. Still can be saved" A familiar husky voice said from behind the three of you.

All of you turned around, only to find a nonchalant Ghost, with his mask over the bridge or his nose, sipping on his tea and watching the TV.

Simon purposefully avoided the common room on Tuesdays, not wanting to perturb whatever ritual you had going on with Gaz and Soap, and to avoid you. The image of you, blood stained, sitting next to the guard you just butchered returned to his mind more than he would like to admit. The man was easily a head taller than you, bigger than you, and yet he was laying dead, face almost disfigured by your hand. He couldn’t help but being impressed, as he assumed you were only good to shove yourself into small spaces and stalk. Knowing that you were capable of such carnage, despite your size, sparked something in him. He hated that. But he appreciated the resourceful use of the barbed wire.

When you were in the jeep, silent and still shaken with adrenaline beside him, he felt a tingle of guilt from pointing a gun at you. He knew he was justified, as the whole situation felt oddly suspicious, but Price was right, you weren’t giving any reasons to doubt you, and you were right as well, as you were heavily monitored to even try something out of the ordinary. His thoughts were divided between apologizing and don’t, both sides had good arguments in his head. So, showing up was a middle ground. An olive branch, sort of speak.

"You bake?" Soap asked in an incredulous tone, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I know a few things," He answered before taking another sip.

"How come you never bake anything for us?" Soap asked again, this time sounding outraged.

"You never asked."

chapter seven: coming soon!

Sorry for taking so long! Had a few small issues but I'm feeling inspired again! Will be updating soon <3

Thank you to the lovely people following this! : @no-lessthan3, @blush-haze, @eustassh, @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #konig cod #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price

54 notes · View notes