#in tw his eyes look yellow half the time

[breezebloxx]

the lighting in this fucking show. pay my hospital bills

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader - tw canon typical violence, mention of sex trafficking, torture.

The only sound in the hallway is Simon's breathing.

The carpet is soaked in blood, tan and yellow threads turned brown and red under the bodies bleeding out on top of them. He laid waste to everyone, to all of them, methodically picking his way through a sea of faces, unable to stop himself, basking in the carnage, indulging in his rage.

One of them begged. Pleaded for his life, cried about how he had a family, about how he didn't know anything, how he was innocent. He was a liar, of course, and they both knew, though it didn't stop him from trying. He had to have known it was futile, and with the cock of a gun, Simon leaned down, nose to nose, pressing the barrel to the man's temple.

"I'd kill your entire family to save mine." 

It was supposed to be a ransom after all. Horribly executed, botched from the start, your captors were a half rate group of mercenaries who were supposed to deliver you days ago for their own payment.

They decided to keep you instead, tried to negotiate a higher payout. Simon is grateful to them for being so stupid, in a way. If they hadn't tried to barter their way into a bigger payday, Kate may not have been able to find you as quickly. You might have slipped between their fingers, already hidden away, sold to a higher bidder.

That's what they wanted, the ones who initiated the plot. They were going to sell you, sell your body, until Simon exchanged himself for your life.

An old grudge rearing its head as a painful reminder.

He should have snatched you away and hide you the moment he saw you on that street. He should have followed his instincts.

But he refused, and now he's here. Slaughtering everyone in his sight, looking for the musty old hotel room where you're being held captive.

Price finds you first. His voice chirps in Simon's earpiece, calling out a floor and a number before instructing Gaz to radio the chopper.

Simon's never run so fast in his life, three stairs at a time, slamming into doors and hopping over dead men until he turns the landing and nearly runs into Price.

His captain grips him by the arm and gives him a little shake before stepping aside and calling over his shoulder. "Put him away, Simon. He's done his part, your wife needs you now."

You're tied to a chair. Arms and ankles bound, wrists cuffed, duct tape across your mouth. It shines with blood, the trickle seeping from a wound on your forehead, a fresh gash weeping.

It's hard to tell if you're breathing, and in that moment, he offers up a plea to something he's not sure exists.

Please. Please, don't take her.  

He's on his knees in front of you in a blink of an eye, Johnny on his left slicing through rope before fidgeting with the cuffs and cursing. "I'll find the key."

He taps your cheek gently, and you jerk away, eyes wide with fear, unfocused and terrified, trembling. He says your name as softly as he can manage, shaking hands peeling away the duct tape, blinking away the tears burning in his eyes.

He knows what you see, who you see. A killer covered in other men's blood.

Ghost in all his glory. In his element.

"Put him away, Simon. He's done his part, your wife needs you now."

He rips the mask from his face and ducks into your line of sight, stroking his thumb over your temple. It takes you too long to recognize him, and when Johnny bursts back through the door, you flinch, slamming your eyes shut, shirking away. He has to coax them back open, holding you steady as the cuffs click open and your arms go slack, your whimpers fracturing his already broken heart, the small sounds crackling into a dry sob. "I'm here, you're safe. It's me, it's me. I've got you." You slump forward, face crashing into his shoulder, too warm to the touch. Festering wounds turned to fever, illness quickly through your veins.

Your left hand twitches in the corner of his vision, covered in blood, and Johnny smothers a hiss.

It no longer has a ring finger. It's been cut away below the knuckle, raw and bloody, bone visible beneath the swollen and infected flesh.

The sapphire nowhere in sight.

"Simon." You slur, and he cradles the back of your head.

"I'm here, 'm right here mama." The waver in his voice betrays him.

"Hurts."

"I know honey, I know. We're gonna fix it, okay?" You're limp, no strength left in your bones, your muscle, and he cradles your belly, desperate to feel any movement, any sign that the baby is still there. Your sobs are a knife in his chest. "Shhh, I've got you. You're safe."

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN!Reader - Part 1 - part 2 - Part 3

kdhbcjshbc I know I said I was gonna work on my Wolverine fic rn but I got sidetracked. This was originally going to be one long ass fic but since the first half ended up already over 4k works I decided to split it into two! It's basically a friends to lovers fic and I know the beginning is a bit of a jumpscare but they're both adults by the end of the fic I promise!! Edit: I totally forgot to add!! Another special thanks to @blue-devil-of-the-lord for their help with german translations!

Tws: Mentions of animal cruelty in the circus. The ringleader is an asshole. I might have made Kurt's brother a bit of an asshole too sorry. Kurt's backstory is going to be kinda a combination of all the shit I've read/know so please be patient lol. I'll go back and add more tags if I think of any.

    You were sixteen when you first met Kurt Wagner, although, he went by Kurt Szardos back then. You had never been to the circus before, and you hadn’t really paid to be there anyway. The show had already started when your father had taken you into the tent, sitting you down in an absent seat near the front. You didn’t want to get in trouble, but he had assured you it was fine. He had business to attend to, and told you that his future employer had given his blessing for you to sit and watch as your father handled business. After all, the two of you were a combo deal, and if you were to be working for the circus, you might as well know just what you were getting yourself into.

    The circus tent was loud with laughter and the sounds of an awed crowd. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. There were simply too many voices, too many lights- and yet when you finally set aside your grievances to try and enjoy the show, you still struggled.

    The monkeys were annoyed with their handler, and every shout towards the crowd was an insult. The lion was young, and still afraid he wouldn’t make the jump through that vicious ring of fire- still healing from the burns he earned by brushing against the flames during the last performance. The doves from the magician act were a bonded pair, rejoicing the time and attention they were being given in the spotlight- and yet the male was already dreading their moments after the show and the dark, dirty cage they would kept in. The female was trying her best to cheer him up. Every animal was unafraid to keep their voice down, and you had never heard animals speak so loudly before. Part of you wonders if it was simply because they were so used to being ignored, they had grown used to letting their voice free- speaking from the heart and yet always being unheard.

    You didn’t like this part of the circus much- and although the tricks these animals did were beautiful and amazing, you couldn’t manage to enjoy it like all the others around you did. You were frowning while all others were smiling and laughing so joyously- perhaps that was what drew him to you in the first place. 

    “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present-” All but one of the spotlights have started to circle around the tent, the ringmaster standing completely within the only lingering light. “Our Flying Fiend… the Daredevil Demon… The one and only, Nightcrawler!” Every moving spotlight lands on a single man standing on one of the high beams. He’s smiling so brightly that you can see it from where you stand feet below him. He’s… strange. Elf-like ears, yellow eyes, and blue skin. A pointed tail sways eagerly behind him, and he takes a deep bow in front of you. His yellow eyes peer open as he does so, and for a moment, you swear he looks straight at you. You’re not entirely sure if he was wearing a costume or not anymore. 

    The performance starts out with one hell of a beginning. Every flip and jump is an incredible act of athleticism- and you find your eyes following Nightcrawler throughout every trick. Two other acrobats join the fray, and yet he’s the only one who catches your eye. At one point, they bring out these long swings- ones that sweep right above the audience with every swoop. There’s one swing for every side of the audience- and the acrobats switch with a dramatic flare every few swings. 

    On the very last switch, Nightcrawler is the one who swings over your seats. 

    He’s much more handsome up close, you realize, blushing even where you are now. You swear with every swing, he’s looking at you. It makes your heart flutter a bit, and on the very last swing of the night, he takes out a rose, pretending to throw it to multiple groups of screaming fans, before he swings again with a dramatic flair. Unlike the other times, he’s holding onto the swing with his feet and tail. He’s so close to the audience without touching a single hair on anyone's head- and then he gets to you.

    You could have sworn that time had slowed, no matter how quickly it happened. The two of you finally lock eyes, and his hand stretches out. The rose falls into your lap, the air whooshing by your face as he’s gone just as quickly. You pick up the flower, a genuine smile finally on your face, and you find that all the other voices of excitement around you have finally drowned out.

    That was the first and last time you had watched the show at Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. After that, you and your father were behind the scenes instead of in the stands. 

    It had been about a week and a half since you and your father had been walking to the circus to work. He knew every path and every road like the back of his hand, insisting the two of you walk instead of drive to save money on gas, and he just so happened to know a few shortcuts through the woods. Usually, you were able to rely on him to guide you, but today you woke up late. Your father had already left without you- which you’re not entirely sure wasn’t intentional. He did leave a note for you, giving you instructions on how to get there on your own. 

    Needless to say, that didn’t actually work out too well. A thirty to forty-five-minute walk had quickly turned into an hour, and then an hour in a half. You were trying your absolute best to follow the instructions, but this was hardly a cohesive path in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t exactly easy.

    You’re beginning to give up at this point, stumbling through the brush as you try to find the general direction you think you’re supposed to be going. Your feet have started to ache and blister, and you find yourself beginning to lose hope.

    “Hello!” If the sound of the voice hadn’t scared the shit out of you, the strange man hanging upside down from the branches of a wild Crab apple tree certainly did. You shriek in terror, your feet slipping as you fall back on your butt. You hold your hands over your heart as the strange acrobat from the circus jumps down in a panic, holding his even stranger hands out in front of him.

    “Oh- Es tut mir Leid! I am so sorry! I had not meant to startle you!” He says frantically, kneeling down to help you up in a very gentlemanly manner. You’re wide-eyed as you look at him, letting him help you up without a fuss. Up close and in broad daylight like this, it was very clear that he certainly was… Blue, to say the least.

    “I-it’s okay.” You stutter. He smiles warmly at you, tail swaying excitedly behind him, and it simply confirms to you that he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find some words. He blinks at you as you do so, patiently (if not obliviously) waiting for you to speak.

    “You’re from the circus, aren’t you?” Is what you finally land on, still a little startled from before. The acrobat nods eagerly.

    “I am. I'm happy that you remember me! I’ve been told I leave a bit of an impression.” He jokes, and you find yourself smiling again. He was charming, for someone so strange. “The farrier is your father, right?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t think that anyone had taken the time to notice you, your father’s shadow in every sense of the word. It makes you feel a little funny, but surely he didn’t remember you from that first performance, right? Maybe he’s just very observant of those who come in and out of the circus stables. 

    “Well, yes.” You affirm, starting to anxiously fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t really expect you to know who I was, to be honest.” He lets out a happy chuckle at that.

    “Of course, I know! A face like yours is hard to forget.” He chirps, sending you a wink. “But I must say, You’re a bit far from the circus, Meine Freundin.” You make a bit of a grimace at that, and he sends you a questioning smile.

    “Yes, well… To be frankly honest, I’m a bit lost.” You admit, eyes locked solely on the ground, taking the time to notice the various fruits that had fallen from the tree and gone bad. You can see the acrobat’s tail swaying in your peripheral vision, and still feel his eyes on you. It makes you blush a little from embarrassment, a little flustered that you had become so lost.

    “I’ll gladly show you the way, I was just about to go back myself.” Your head snaps up to look at him in bewilderment at that, before you realize just how lucky you are to have found him out here. He picks up a basket of crab apples that you hadn’t noticed before, and you offer to carry it for him as a thanks for guiding you back. He won’t let you no matter how hard you try, certainly the first gentleman you’ve met in quite a while. He tells you that your profuse thanks is more than enough for him.

    The two of you get to talking while you make the long walk back to the circus, and he tells you about his mother, Margali Szardos, and how she had asked him to wander over this way to pick the fruit from the crab apple tree for her. She was fairly adamant about him doing so, telling him that it was of great importance, but he didn’t quite understand why fruit could be such a pressing matter. He’s very funny, and you find yourself greatly enjoying his company. The two of you feel like close friends already, and you hadn’t even realized that you didn’t even know his real name until you’ve already arrived at the plethora of brightly colored circus tents.

    “I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I ever asked for your name.” You say, the awkwardness of the question not even registering with how happy you are to simply be in his company. He sends you another dazzling smile before he holds his hand, offering it for you to shake.

    “I’m Kurt.” He tells you. You introduce yourself as well, happy to have made a new friend today. You hear someone calling your name from not too far away, and spot your father waving his hand at you, calling you over.

    “I have to go, but thank you so much for your help!” You say, once again thanking him adamantly.

    “Walking with you was lovely. I hope to see you more often.” Kurt says, right before you go. You can’t help but blush a little, unable to keep yourself from smiling widely. You couldn’t help it! He was just so handsome in both looks and personality, the strangeness of his skin color and three-fingered hands being something you easily begin to care less and less about.

    “Likewise.” You agree, almost completely flustered. Your father calls for you again, and you quickly say your goodbyes before you rush off to him. You find yourself in a rather good mood for the rest of the day, despite your sore and blistered feet from the long journey here.

    Many months flew by very fast while you and your father worked for the circus, and you and Kurt had grown very close. He visited you when he could sneak away from practice and performances, and although you were more concerned about him staying out of trouble, you began to appreciate the company beyond the way a simple friend would, finding yourself blushing and flustered while around him.

    A fact that hadn’t changed throughout your time there was the treatment of many of the animals. All of them had a grievance or problem of some sort, and it broke your heart to have to stand by without the ability to help them. In the eyes of the circus, you were just the Ferrier’s assistant, nothing more. At first, you were, in the very least. Some of the animal trainers had noticed how good you were with the horses, and how even the most skittish of the equine animals would calm around you and let you handle them without any trouble. Things like that don’t go unnoticed, and soon enough many of the animal handlers had heard about your “gift” with the live attractions. Part of this was due to your Father’s constant bragging about your special skill with animals, although you were the only one who knew the truth about it all. After a while, the frustrated animal trainers began to ask you to assist them with the other animals as well, noting how it hadn’t taken very long before they were at ease around you. The size of cages and the attitudes of the trainers were something you couldn’t change very much, but even if you could only help out with a few things here and there, you were happy- and the animals were too.

    Today, you were doing your best to handle an absolute disaster. 

    Tonight’s animal show was a new set, with lots of loud noises and the pops of fireworks launching far, far above the tops of the tallest tent. With so many new lights and colors, they should have known something was bound to go wrong- and boy, did it. The smallest pony in the show was a stunning Blue Roan mare named Bubbles- and unlike many of the other mares in the show, she was very skittish. Her trainers mostly knew to be careful around her, but that consideration slipped under the radar when it came to all the new changes. Her show went by relatively seamless, with only a few issues here and there- but it was enough to put her on edge. When the fireworks finale went off as she was being led out of the main tent, it was just her last straw.

    I don’t like them. I don’t like the loud noises. Bubbles is pacing anxiously in the back of her tiny stable, still having trouble settling down. Every bump or noise from outside and even the neighboring stables sends her spiraling again. You’re standing at the gate, giving her a cautious amount of room to pace and worry so that she doesn’t feel trapped by you. 

    “I know, Bubbles, It’s okay.” You whisper. You’re so concerned for her, and angry with her trainers, too. It makes your blood boil to remember how one of them had gotten frustrated with her tonight, eventually giving up on settling her completely and thrusting her reins at you, telling you to “take this stupid thing somewhere else!”. The lack of patience and understanding makes you rage, but you know you can’t say a thing if you want to keep this opportunity to work with the animals.

    Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ll do better, I promise. Bubbles says again. The words almost bring tears to your eyes, hurting for her. You hate seeing her so scared.

“Hey, hey. Easy, I’m not mad at you, I promise. You’re safe with me, okay?” You tell her, starting to slowly approach her as her pacing begins to slow. She whinnies once, huffing as she tries her best to calm herself down. Eventually, she begins to settle, letting you get close enough to reassuringly pet her nose and flank. She leans into the comforting touches, finally beginning to relax after being high-strung for so long. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a minute, enjoying each other's company as you hear the sounds of the circus begin to dwindle and die.

     I’m sorry for all the trouble. Bubbles apologizes quietly.

    “You haven’t been any trouble, Bubbles, I promise.” You say soothingly. “Do you want to talk for a bit before I go?” She nods her head, and that’s all the answer you need.

    The two of you talk for a long, long while as you take off her tack and brush her down, pampering her as you ready her for bed. You talk about food, trainers, the new horseshoes she’s getting next week- anything at all. Even Kurt comes up in conversation, eventually.

    I like him. She says decisively. He sneaks me leftover apples. You can’t help but giggle at that, already having a hunch that he had been giving the horses treats while no one was looking. Not that you really mind, it was nice to know that they had someone other than you and your father looking out for them.

    “I agree. He’s very nice.” You say, smiling brightly. She noses you in response.

    I think he likes you, too. You instantly blush at her words, shaking your head at her with a flustered smile. You honestly doubted he saw you as much more of a friend, even if the two of you have had somewhat sensitive moments sometimes.

    “I really don't think-”

    “Guten Abend!” You can’t help but shriek at the greeting, knowing just who it was as you whip around in the stable, spotting Kurt leaning against the gate with a cheesy smile.

    “Kurt! You have got to stop scaring me like that!” You scold, throwing the dandy brush at him. He pretends to be wounded, holding a hand over the spot it hit him dramatically as he laughs.

    “I’m sorry. Seems I couldn’t help myself.” Kurt says, and you lightly slap his arm again for good measure when you can reach him, trying and failing to keep yourself from smiling at his antics.

    “You could have startled Bubbles. It took forever for me to get her settled after the show today!” You scold him again, smile not letting up for a second. Kurt smiles a little nervously at that before he looks behind you to see the completely unbothered Bubbles.

    He wouldn’t have- I saw him come in. She says. You wave her off discreetly. That’s not the point, Bubbles! But even without being able to understand her, Kurt seems to get the hint that she wasn’t even a tad bit bothered and jumps the gate with such ease you can’t help but be a little jealous of his athleticism. 

    “Then I’ll apologize to you too, Bubbles.” Kurt cooes, lavishing her forehead and muzzle with pets and kisses that she happily receives. You watch him with a smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You knew you were absolutely gone on him, this little crush of yours having developed into true and deep feelings of affection. But how could you not? Even watching him right now it’s clear to see the kindness and support he gives to every living thing regardless of status or species. That meant more to you than you think he might ever know.

    “How was it out there?” You ask eventually, leaning against the side of the stable.

    “So-so. The crowds have started to react less to our sets. Mother says that we’ll get better reactions if we change the performance a little.” Kurt shrugs, tail tucked tightly around his own waist- something you noticed he did every time he entered the stables so that he wouldn’t startle the horses with the snake-like limb. You frown, eyebrows furrowing at the news. You knew that they had been trying some new things for the animal shows, but the acrobatics had always been so incredible and immaculate. It’s strange to you that anyone would look on at that part of the show with a straight face.

    “And how does Ringmaster Getmann feel about that?” You ask. Bubbles huffs through her nose angrily at his name, and you join Kurt by her side, petting her shoulder. You can see that Kurt is frowning, not responding to your question as his eyes stay squarely on Bubbles. 

    “...Kurt?” You’re really worried for him now, knowing that the look on his face can only mean that nothing good will come of it.

    “It’s nothing for you to worry over.” Kurt responds after a minute. “He wants us to do riskier tricks, but Mother keeps telling him it’s not the best idea. He’s rather adamant about it though.” His voice is soft while he delivers the news, and it makes you wonder how on earth he’s not angry about the blatant disregard for both his and his adoptive siblings’ safety.

     I knew I had a good reason to hate that man! Bubbles speaks angrily as she flicks her tail, Kurt being the only reason she hadn’t bucked or stopped in frustration. Your worry begins to deepen as you think everything over.

    “I- You won’t get hurt, will you?” You ask, worry clearly spilling into your tone. “The animal injuries are already bad enough, but if he starts risking human lives-”

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz.” Kurt cuts you off, stepping away from Bubbles to take your hands in his own. The nickname had a tendency to make your heart flutter, but right now all you could feel was the anxiety of an impending disaster. “Please don’t worry for me.” He tells you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You’re breath catches at the act, and when you look at him there's a fond, reassuring look on his face. Still, it did not ease your worries in the slightest. Kurt takes a step closer to you, his hand cupping your face now instead.

    “I can’t help it. I worry because I care.” You whisper. Kurt smiles softly at you, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, reveling in the fond moment. Still, your lips tingled with how close the two of you are, eyes darting down to the shape of his lips as you ran your tongue across your own. Kurt’s pretty eyes don’t let the action go unnoticed. He begins to lean in to close the gap between the two of you, and your eyes flutter closed as he does so.

    “Kurt.” The voice startles the two of you, separating immediately. It’s Stephan, Kurt’s adoptive brother. He’s not only startled you and Kurt, but Bubbles too. She spooks in the tiny stables, rearing up before you immediately turn to her, doing your best to calm her down once again. She’s breathing a little hard, but she’s not pacing again, which was much better than before, although you were certainly peeved to have backtracked already.

   “You know you’re not supposed to linger around the stables after the show,” Stephan says to Kurt, who only frowns. The two had begun to form a rather strained relationship as of late, but neither of you would have expected him to go out of his way to catch Kurt like this. You glance back at them as you finish settling Bubbles, staying silent as the two of them share a look. Kurt’s tail sways a bit, and you can see Stephan roll his eyes at Kurt before he nods his head to the door and begins to leave. Kurt sighs deeply before he turns to you with a remorseful look.

    “I’ll see you soon- promise,” Kurt says, taking your hands in his own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You’re frowning, unable to help it at this point due to the moment being ruined. Kurt leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, and you smile a bit. He gives you another quiet goodbye before he jumps the gate again, and follows his brother out.

    You're left standing there with Bubbles, and despite Kurt’s promises, you have an uneasy feeling in your chest. You want to blame it on the disappointment of the night, but you can't help but wonder when you'd actually get to see him again.

[sinofwriting]

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

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“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[sweetyyhippyy]

Meeting Mom. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie tells his girlfriend about his mom for the first time. He also takes her to go visit her on an important date.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Mention of Eddie smoking weed. Eddie talking about his mom and some cute stories about her. Eddie obviously being sad about his mom being gone. Eddie and reader being at a cemetary.

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

The storm had knocked out the whole apartment complex's power, luckily Eddie decided to stay the night with her to keep her company and keep her safe- he would use any excuse to spend the night with her.

She shuffles back into her room, turning her flashlight off once it lands on Eddie in her bed, an ashtray laying on his stomach and a half smoked blunt between his lips.

The ember end of the blunt guides her back to the bed, laying next to Eddie and resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie takes one more large hit before coughing heavily. “Shit.” He mutters once his lungs fill with clean air. Putting the small stub in the glass tray and placing it on the bedside table.

She giggles against his warm skin, looking up at him. “You alright there, Smokey?” She teases.

He huffs out a laugh as he settles into bed with his girlfriend’s bed with her, resting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m testing out a new strand Rick got. It’s a little strong but good.”

She hums happily against him, kissing the pale skin. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you were a worm, yes I would still love you. I’d love you a little less, but I would still love you.”

She giggles at his response, playfully pushing his side. “Not that question you dweeb. And good to know you would love me less if I was a worm.” She scoffs.

Eddie chuckles deeply, stamping out the end of the blunt in the ashtray. “What do you want to know?”

She flips onto her stomach, lightly touching his undershirt. “The other day when I came over, you were talking about going to Crawford and you sounded sad. Was everything okay?”

The room grows quiet for a while, just low thumps coming from the apartment above hers.

“I’m sorry, did I bring up something I wasn’t supposed to?” She asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Oh, no baby, no. It’s just um… you just overheard kind of a deep conversation.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He says. “Um… the anniversary of my mom’s death is next weekend, so I’m going to go visit her at the cemetery.”

Eddie never talked about his mom with her, it was one of the walls that he still had up. She understood that it was a hard subject and she never pried. The only thing that she knew was that her name was Elizabeth and she had big curly dark brown hair, just like his.

“Aww, baby I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She moves up the bed, kissing his cheek softly.

“I think she would have liked you.” He smiles to himself warmly, touching her lower back, drawing small circles under her shirt. “She, uh,” He laughs to himself. “She liked to paint and draw. I would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes- I was a bad sleeper as a kid- I think I got it from her, because she would be in the kitchen at like 3 am with all of her paintbrushes, her paints, and canvases. She liked to paint nature a lot, like the woods in our backyard and if she took me to the park in our neighborhood, she would paint the field that was next to it, it was full of these yellow flowers she loved. Yellow was her favorite color.” He was glad that the room was dark because he could feel tears fill his eyes.

“That’s where you get your love artistic stuff from, hm?” She says, touching his face softly, hearing the sadness in his tone.

“Yeah. She tried to teach me how to paint stuff, but I was better at painting the linoleum floor in the kitchen.” He laughs deep from his belly. “She started to teach me how to draw, and that I was good at. She would get so excited when I would draw stuff on her Mother’s Day cards or her birthday cards. There was one Christmas, it was the Christmas before… before she passed… I worked on this picture of these yellow flowers that had this like pink trim or something around it. I surprised her with the picture and she loved it, she put it in a frame, hung it on the wall in her and my dad’s bedroom.” Eddie sniffles, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, honey.” She whispers, kissing his cheek.

Eddie wipes his eyes, clearing the hoarseness that was in his throat. “She loved it. She kept all the shit I drew for her. After my dad got locked up and Wayne came to get me, I found this huge box with all the cards and drawings I did for her. I was such an angry little shit head at that time, I wanted to throw it in the trashcan and burn it. But Wayne put it in the back of his truck and took it with us, he has it somewhere in the trailer.” He stays quiet for a few seconds before sniffling. “I loved her so much… she was my best friend.”

The lights flick back on, making her jump slightly. The lights illuminate Eddie’s wet brown eyes, his dark eyelashes damp from his tears.

She swipes her thumb across his cheek, her other hand wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you for telling me about her. I can tell where you got that big, loving heart from.”

Eddie nods his head, smiling at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“About you being a worm?” She jokes, trying to take the heaviness off his heart.

Eddie laughs, his round eyes scanning her face slowly, looking at every little detail carefully. “Do you want to take the ride with me to go see her? Introduce you guys to each other?”

“Oh, Eddie.” She coos. “You really want to?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to meet her. The only two women I’ve loved in my whole life.”

Her heart flutters at his words, making her own eyes water. “I would love to come.”

***

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Munson. Loving sister, daughter, wife, and “mommy” Born: May 2, 1939. Died August 28, 1972

“Hey, mom.” Eddie smiles, taking the dead flowers from the hole next to her headstone and replacing them with new ones. “I brought someone for you to meet.” He turns to look at his girlfriend, motioning her to come closer.

She smiles at Eddie before walking next to him, laying her own flowers that she bought down. “Hi.” She says, looking at the picture of her etched into the headstone. “Wow, you do look a lot like her.” She says to Eddie, smiling fondly at the black and white picture.

Eddie chuckles, sitting on the green grass below them. “Yeah, everyone said that I stole her entire face. My dad’s genes didn’t stand a chance. Here, come sit.” He pats a spot next to him.

“Hold on, I have one thing I wanted to show her, if you don’t mind.” She says, digging into her back pocket.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her in confusion.

She unfolds the long wrinkled piece of paper, flattening it out as best she can against her leg. “Eddie told me about how you taught him how to draw. He’s drawn a lot of pictures for me since we’ve been together, and I keep everything just like you did. He told me about this picture that you were so proud of him doing and I asked Wayne to find it for me.” She bends down, placing the paper right under the headstone and grabbing a few rocks on top to weigh it down. “I wanted you to see it again.”

Eddie peeks over her shoulder, seeing the drawing he did back Christmas 1971 of the yellow and pink flowers he drew for her. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling while he openly cried. “Babe.”

She turns to look at him, her own eyes wet too. “I wanted it to be a surprise. For both of you.” She sits next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She lifts her head up and kisses his jaw lovingly. “Of course.” She says softly. “You know, for you only being 6 when you drew that, you were really good.”

Eddie smiles warmly, looking at his girlfriend. “Been a long time since I drew stuff like that. After my mom died, I started doing ‘darker’ stuff. Characters I would come up with and stuff when I started doing stuff with D&D, writing campaigns was easier when I had faces to names. Then when you came along, started drawing stuff for you and my art got happier. You made me happier than I had been since I lost my mom.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his last sentence, somehow falling more in love with him. “I’m glad I can make you happier, baby. I always want to make you as happy as I can. You deserve to be happy.”

***

“Put your trash in here, I’ll go throw it in the trash.” She holds open the paper bag they brought their picnic lunch in, throwing the discarded items in.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t we head out? It’s going to start getting cold soon.” Eddie says.

“Yeah, okay. I”ll meet you at the car.” She smiles as she stands up, turning toward the headstone. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Munson. Hopefully I can come back soon. I’ll take care of your boy.”

Eddie watches as she walks away, warmly smiling at her. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m planning on marrying her, mom. She’s the right one.”

[anthonys237thfreckle]

‘Promise’ - Javier ‘Javi’ x Kate Carter & F! reader (angst!)

someone asked for a part two and I realized how good of an idea that was lmao. I need indirect ways to incorporate my past experiences into my fics anyway.

part one

prompt: you made a promise to distance yourself from Javi and Kate

TW: mentions of smoking, some detailed mention of self harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of nausea, disordered eating, breakdowns, smoking, angst :(

Do NOT proceed if the triggers mentioned above upset you greatly. You have been warned.

I made a promise

To distance myself

Once Tyler dropped you off to the train station, you smiled and waved until you couldn’t see his truck anymore. You wanted to hang onto any last string of familiarity for as long as you could.

Especially since your life would change completely - for better or worse.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to calm down your trembling body.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

5 things you see - the train station, the crumbling yellow bricks, the jolly red-white-blue american flag, your luggage, and the people. Lots of people.

4 things you hear - the people, obviously, the cicadas crying, the heavy bell ringing inside, the honking of cars for you to get out of their way.

3 things you smell - the heat - somehow, the smell of smoke from cars, and the thick air.

2 things you feel - terrified. hurt.

1 thing you taste - bitterness.

Shaking your head, you take another deep breath. Eyes dead set on the mission in front of you, you marched into the train station, bought a ticket to Oklahoma City, and settled down inside.

But now was the hardest part; waiting. What made it harder was you didn’t want to think about anything that happened yesterday. So, putting your headphones on, you made a playlist with none of the songs that reminded you of Javi or any of the ones he recommended to you. Essentially, you just listened to 3 songs in total, over and over again, but the knowledge you knew what was coming next was comforting, something you couldn’t apply to your current situation.

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about

How we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

You woke up when the train jolted to a stop - you had fallen asleep, waking up to hear the opening notes of some song you were listening to earlier. Looking out the window, you reached Oklahoma City. With a sigh of relief and trepidation, you got your bags and headed out of the station, hailed a taxi to the airport. Booking a last minute flight back home to LA, you made your way to the gate. Setting your bag down, you sat in a char near the huge windows. Deciding it wasn’t close enough, you sat on the little raised platform attached to the window and leaned your head against it like you saw so many children do.

The boarding call was announced, and everyone sat up groggily. It all went by pretty quickly. Standing in line, getting your boarding pass stamped and your passport checked, finding you seat, putting your bag away and sitting down. Taxi and take off was a blur; luckily you got a window seat, and stared out at the pink clouds, tinted by the setting sun, a peach tone.

Peachy, just like your favourite pie.

You groaned, covering your eyes and rubbing them as your mind started to think about Oklahoma. About Javi, and the last time he saw you. And the last thing he said to you. It wasn’t even a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t blame him because he didn’t know it was goodbye.

And honestly, neither did you.

But you made yourself a promise - to distance yourself.

Those last words of his echoed in your mind.

“I- Okay, alright. Take care, (Y/N)”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

You half expected a text from Javi - it had been around 24 hours since you last saw him. Since you told him you had a ‘family emergency’ to take care of. Who wouldn’t expect a little ‘you doing okay?’ or ‘safe travels’ when someone saw you break down in the middle of a field, distressed as hell? Sure, you and Javi weren’t dating, sure you both drifted apart ever since Kate got closer with him instead, but were you two not even friends anymore?

Did you mean nothing to him?

This wasn’t the first time he ghosted you - after the EF5 tornado, he didn’t say a word to you. But it was understandable why - everyone was hurting, and maybe he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. In Oklahoma, the only times he’d talk to you is when you started a conversation, otherwise you could sit silently and he’d happily talk with Kate, leaving you be. It was never him starting anything.

And Kate. Did she figure out you liked Javi? Is that why she didn’t text you? Did she feel guilty? Part of you wanted her to feel guilty, but the other part of you didn’t want to be pitied. Part of you wanted to go back, but this - this was best for you right now. Nobody could tell you otherwise.

Instead, you got a text from Tyler.

‘hey there cowgirl - how you getting along?’

You chuckled - ‘cowgirl’ was probably the worst way to describe yourself. Instead, you typed down a response, your heart a little less heavy.

‘hey, Tyler. thanks for asking. means a lot’

He was typing, the three dots appearing on screen

‘of course. lemme know if you need anything at all okay? stay safe out there’

You sent him an affirmative text, thankful to actually have a friend who cared enough to check in on you, helping you out without questioning anything, having only known you for a week.

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

You found comfort in some form of familiarity in your life; back home in LA, everything looked duller, more still. Like the whole world knew about your heartbreak and was mourning, or mocking you. You tried to plunge into work, distracting yourself but sometimes, you’d just stare at your work, screen or paper, and just zone out. Your was brain still trying to process everything, and you were losing a lot over it - sleep, peace, overall joy, your will to wake up, and more.

It felt like after the EF5 tornado but worse because you knew somewhere in Oklahoma, Kate was with Javi, both of them happier than ever. It felt worse because you could never have him anymore. He was gone. And someone got to see him every day, sometimes wake up next to him, sometimes stay up all night with him. You felt like you were gonna be sick.

For a fortnight, all you could eat was cheese, bread, and grapes. It was the only thing you could keep down.

It was so hard not to text Javi. After you had just left, it’s like you were isolated for 5 years, given a taste of him, then forcing yourself to stay away. It was something you chose to do, not something you were forced to live with.

But you won’t call him. No matter how long the days felt they were dragging by.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

Walking by a drugstore to entertain yourself, you entered the establishment with an electronic ding notifying your presence. Strolling through the ailes, you picked up Sourhead Extremes (so in case you wanted to call Javi, you’d have to go through a gustatory agony first) and some nail polish, just to look pretty. Walking to the cashier, you mindlessly threw in a pack of cigarettes onto the counter, before putting them back in a jerky motion.

“What the hell…” you murmured to yourself, ashamed of what you were about to do. Buy cigarettes - to smoke.

Walking out of the store briskly, you speed-walked home; chiding yourself for almost ‘rewarding’ your no contact mission by smoking, you realized how truly pathetic you were.

“God, what is wrong with me…” you muttered, keeping your head down, watching the wet streets reflect the light of the sun and your dark sorrow.

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose,

Eventually you did buy the cigarettes. You went home, lounging in your bed, a pretty china plate acting like an ashtray for you. Legs up in the air, swinging occasionally, eyes half lidded from the light high, you felt the chalky smoke fill your lungs, watching it come out in little clouds of grey air.

You felt in control for the first time since leaving Oklahoma - the cigarette sitting pretty between your red tinted fingers and lips. You smiled softly, satisfied by finally scoring a small win. You didn’t tell Tyler that you smoked. He’d say it’s a horrible habit you should give up.

Obviously it was more of a lose - giving into an impulse, and now you were at risk of falling deeper into addiction. You weren’t in control, you never really were.

But why would you make yourself feel worse when you were on the literal brink of crumbling?

Although, you didn’t get addicted. After the high wore off, you felt disgusted, throwing out the pack of almost full cigarettes. You wouldn’t tell Tyler, of course.

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing with you

Two weeks went by, and though you pretended everything was okay, it really wasn’t. You didn’t know if you missed Javi or not, but you really didn’t want to.

You don’t know if you want to see the face you loved so much, the face that lights up when he sees Kate, the face that Kate holds, kisses, caresses.. the face that she admires alongside you.

You wanted to get over him, you really did, but you cared so much about him. You didn’t want to stop caring about him, when loving him felt so… lovely.

But it hurt so much.

You barely got any sleep this past fortnight. Having a reverie about the man who daydreamed about another woman. The things you wished he did to you, he did to Kate. He was hers. So assured, so confident. No doubt in that.

For a fortnight, there you were, stripped of any text backs from him.

You were starting to think you just wanted his attention, which you dont know if you wanted anymore, knowing his attention belonged to Kate. Why would you care so much about him texting you?

But then again, weren’t you two friends?

I’ve done the math

There’s no solution

We’ll never last

Why can’t I let go of this?

Right now, you, broken, needed comfort. May it be fake hope again. Nobody was there to stop you anyway, so in your free time, you started to think of the ways Kate and Javi would have problems with each other.

‘She’s too arrogant sometimes, and he’s really down to earth’

‘She can’t communicate her feelings!’

‘Kate’s one to settle, Javi isn’t’

Of course, you knew it was wrong. Of course it was a bitchy thing to think. But who were you to care right now?

You were hurt, and you needed to feel better to even try and start to get a grip on reality. you didn’t want to rip of the band aid yet.

Not yet.

Even worse, your mind started thinking of ways you and Javi could get together; Kate could leave him in the dark again, she could get into a fight with him…

But nothing made sense - she wouldn’t leave when she looked at him that way… and any fights would be cleared quickly with Javi’s forgiving nature.

He would do anything for her.

All in all, you realized how shitty you were being, and texted Tyler, saying you couldn’t hide from Javi - couldn’t hide from the pain that haunted you. The bright lights of LA looked dull. The sun felt like a false light.

Your world was falling apart, how could the sun be shining when your world was falling apart?

‘Just walk around. Wear something that makes you feel good. Grab some good lunch downtown. Spoil yourself. Act like a damn tourist, I don’t care. Just do anything that reminds you that there’s more to life than Javi’ he wrote.

So I broke my promise

I called you last night

I shouldn’t have, I wouldn’t have

If it weren’t for the sight of a boy who

Looked just like you standing out on Melrose Avenue…

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing, with you.

Three days later, you sat on the roof of a building. The sun was setting, you looked at the streets below. People were walking - their dogs, their toddlers, and whatnot.

You were so disappointed with yourself. Closing your eyes, you thought back to everything that happened yesterday.

Following Tyler’s advice, you woke up ready to face the day.

Waking up bright and early, you went for a run, saw some pretty things on the way. You found it insane how easy it was to overlook the small things in life.

Coming home, you made breakfast; oatmeal with bananas, almond butter and chocolate chips. You savoured every bite with a smile.

You hopped into the shower, using your favourite body wash. Putting on an outfit, doing your hair and makeup, slipping on your shoes, you left the house, ready to explore the city…

All was going well until sunset.

—

You were walking along the streets of LA, acting like you’d never seen anything like it before. A coffee in hand, you walked confidently down the path, turning a corner to browse a bookstore on Melrose Avenue, when someone caught your eye.

A boy, waiting for the light signal to turn green, who looked exactly like Javi.

You froze.

Suddenly, you didn’t want coffee any more. You didn’t want anything right now but to go home.

—

You rushed home, trying so hard to control your breathing, then stumbling desperately to your room. As soon as your face crashed against the pillows, the soft, gentle fabric a perfect medium to absorb the tears now flowing down your face. You sobbed, curled into a still-bedazzled ball on your bed, hugging yourself, contracting into a fibonacci.

Reaching for your purse, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Through the wet and blurry lens of your tears, you scrolled into the alphabet until you reached the ‘J’ section. The first name was Javi.

Pressing on his name, then the ‘call’ button, you held it to your ear, taking shuddering breaths as you tried calming yourself down. The your phone cooed like a pigeon, signalling his phone, somewhere in Oklahoma, was ringing.

You were clean. Clean for a little over 2 weeks. Clean from his voice ringing in your ears, new words exchanged and whatnot.

But as you held your phone in your hand, crying, watching it reach Javi’s phone, waiting for him to answer, it all felt like a relapse.

Like the feeling of the cool blade on your skin, slicing through, leaving an angry red river in its wake.

The sick, high feeling you get from it - the ecstasy, watching you destroy yourself, finding beauty in the rubble.

Some part of you, the logical part of you was screaming to press the red button. To leave Javi alone. It wasn’t fair for you to reach out first, right? Why would you make a fool out of yourself by calling him? You’re not that desperate for him, are you?

But the hurt, emotional, desperate part of you didn’t, daring him to answer. Just to remind him of your existence. Just this once.

Still fighting the internal battle, you delved deeper into why he didn’t call you yet.

Did Kate tell him everything? Did she finally find out? Did she realize at all about how hurt you were?

The anger only just started to hit you, claiming your brain as a new population to be corrupted, a new host for the parasite, a new fruit to rot.

You were mad. You didn’t know at who. But you decided you were mad at Kate. For dating him. You knew it was wrong to be mad, because you had no claim over Javi, but you were too deep into your anger to actually think of a better way to cope. Suddenly, you were so mad at Kate. So, so mad. Part of you wanted to tear your house down, scream like a mad woman, but you didn’t. Your dwindling self control kept you in check.

Then came the sadness. You were so mad at Kate, but she was so happy right now. She didn’t care or know how your felt right now. how hurt you felt right now. She had Javi. Her Javi. And they were both happy - oh so happy, oh so blissfully unaware of how you felt right now.

They were happy - they were perfectly fine without you. Because they didn’t need you as a friend, not like they did in college - maybe they didn’t back then either, because they had each other. That’s all they needed. Each other was all they needed.

You were so deep into the crevices of your mind, drowning in both pain and relief, you almost didn’t hear your name drenched in Javi’s voice coming from the speaker.

‘[name]?’

—

follow + stay tuned for part three!!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 2)

Tw: Afab and fem reader, Cyprus doesnt take no for an answer and keeps you in his apartment

masterlist, part 1, part 3

You woke up with the biggest hangover of your life. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding against your skull, you could feel the alcohol from last night sloshing around your stomach.

You squeezed an eye shut while the other struggled to focus on your surroundings. This is not your bedroom.

Your blood runs cold upon realizing that you're not in your work clothes. But an oversized shirt that's exposing one side of your shoulder and reaching to your knees. Cyprus must have changed you last night, god knows what else he did to you while you're that vulnerable.

There is a ceiling fan above you that clearly hasn't been cleaned for a while. Old, ripped and yellowed posters of famous fighters were plastered on his off white walls, they're not even straightened. A pair of red boxing gloves were hung on the side of his wardrobe, whereas his suitcase is on a lone table by the corner.

You could hear something sizzling outside, it must be Cyprus cooking.

You got out of his bed and exited his room, gulping and bracing what's to come.

"Morning." He gruffed. You scanned the room and saw that it's a modest living room with a small kitchenette away from the main door. It's a bit bare, just a couch, a TV on a wooden stand, a dining table that fits four and a printer awkwardly pressed against a wall. It was resting on a stool.

There is a tattered punching bag in the corner, hanging from above. It has definitely seen better days.

You noted that he has two pedestal fans and another ceiling one, but no air conditioning.

You turned your attention to him, he was plating the food on some paper plates. Cyprus picked them up and turned around, tilting his head towards the table. You tried to ignore the fact that he's half-naked, only wearing a pair of shorts. You knew that the majority would salivate over his oddly unscarred, sculpted body and veiny arms. There was a healthy, bushy happy trail on his abdomen, looks like he had let them grow rampant.

You went ahead and sat down on one of the chairs. He placed a dish down in front of you before taking a seat himself.

It's toast, sausages and eggs, cooked the way you usually prefer.

"You told me last night, this is how you liked your eggs." He mumbled, digging into his own breakfast which consisted of the same items, just in more quantities fitting to his stature. "I hope I can trust the Drunk You."

You went straight to the point and asked what happened.

"We didn't fuck, if that's what you're asking." He nonchalantly told you as he stabbed his omelet with a plastic fork. "You puked all over yourself, so I had to change you before bringing you to bed."

You were astonished at the difference in his language at home, compared to the one at work.

You asked what the time is. You're going to be late for work and you cannot afford to lose this job.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he chewed. "Relax. I called in sick for you."

He did what now?

"I took an emergency leave off work today too. We're free until Monday." He continued, acting like this is a totally mundane topic to talk about.

You rubbed your face, dreading the day where you're going to have to face your coworkers.

"What's up with you?" He asked, staring at your flustered face. "And eat up, your plate is getting cold."

You asked him how he called in to tell your manager that you won't be coming in.

He shrugged. "Pick up the phone. Dial the number. Call. Hang up."

You said that wasn't what you meant, you asked what he told your boss.

"I said you were too sick to come in. What more do you want from me?"

You asked if you provided context behind his words. He couldn't just possibly do that on your behalf can he?

"I told Jane it was none of her business. All she needed to know was that you're not coming in and so am I."

Jane, the devil you and everyone else on your floor call a manager. He wouldn't have let that response slide if you were to do the same.

And she is a gossip super spreader. You're sure the entire building is already making their own speculations about the relationship between you and him.

You stood up and paced around, trying to expel the nervous energy you built up. Cyprus looked at you quizzingly as he munched on his toast.

You ask how he is so calm about all of this, does he not care about being the center of gossip when he gets back?

"Fuck them. I don't care what they think." He turned his focus back to his plate, stabbing more food and shovelling it into his mouth.

But you do. You didn't tell him that, though.

"Damn, sit down. You're always so jumpy. It's just me and none of Jane's crap you have to face at work." He complained. You still fidget with your hands and walk around in short circles.

"You know, I always wondered if you're as jittery when you're not in the office. I guess this confirms it, you are. How could you live like that, always feeling on edge twenty-four-seven?" He pushed his glasses back up, his grey eyes trailing your every move.

You told him that you have to go home. You have something to do, mumbling about chores and other weak excuses.

"That can wait. We should talk more." He brought his hand up to your arm, firmly grabbing them and trying to lead you back to your chair.

You said no, you have to go.

"You and I know it isn't urgent. Come on, sit down. I'll reheat your breakfast up for you." You managed to slip out of his loosened grip.

You asked where your phone, clothes and belonging are.

"They're in my apartment. Safe and intact. You'll get them, don't worry. Just, sit." His patience is thinning but you're too frazzled to notice.

You said you have to check your emails to see if Jane-

"Park it!" Cyprus barked as he rose up from his seat, pointing at the empty chair opposite of him, causing you to flinch at his raised voice. You hurriedly followed his command and sat down.

He sighed. "You really need to stop thinking about work."

You kept your lips sealed as you trembled. Fearing Cyprus. As promised, he took your plate to be reheated in the microwave. You wonder if it's safe to be microwaving a paper plate.

While that's happening, he pulled out two empty glasses from his cabinets and a jug of juice from his fridge. He sets them on the table and poured you and himself some.

"Christ, you're so shaky. Loosen up!" He snarked.

You said you have no idea how to approach this situation, it's completely new and you're being caught off guard. How are you going to relax when you don't know what to expect?

"Well, first off. I'm not going to hurt the girl I'm trying to get with." He walked to the microwave as it beeps. "That's you, by the way. If it wasn't already painfully obvious." He sarcastically remarked, pulling out your steaming plate.

"Here you go, princess." His tone was softened and endearing as he placed your plate in front of you once again, it's mildly soggy but still in one piece, holding your food. You reluctantly picked up your disposable plastic fork and ate, since your stomach was grumbling.

He returned to his seat and continued his breakfast too.

"Secondly," Cyprus gulped his food down. "I want you to tell me more about yourself, and I'll talk about my life."

You didn't respond to him, still warily watching him as you ate.

"I'll go first." He set his fork on his plate. "My name is Cyprus. Cyprus Andrea Rodriguez."

That explains the "R" in your Valentine's Day note. You found it amusing that his Initials spell out 'C.A.R'.

"I work in finance. You know that." You nodded.

"I smoke. I like my coffee black. I drive. I cook." He started rapid-firing facts about himself while counting his fingers. You already knew all these.

You asked him about the boxing gloves in his room. He smirked and leaned back against his chair, bringing his arms behind his head.

"Not so fast, your turn to tell me about yourself, pretty girl." You coughed in your hand to try and hide the fluttering of your chest upon hearing that nickname.

You also told him things that he already knew. You worked on the same floor as him, you do not smoke, you like your hot drinks a certain way and you like your eggs like how you're eating it right now.

He pursed his lips. "Pfft. Boring. I want to know what you do after work."

You said you would go home and scroll endlessly on social media. Or do more work.

"You're not fooling me, doll. I know a generic to-go reply when I hear one. I'm not your coworker here, you can tell me."

You thought about it. Yes, you would go to dinners and gatherings with your friends and other colleagues, but those aren't usually for fun. They're for keeping up appearances. Aside from that, you would just rot with your phone.

You told him that you would go out with friends.

"Who?" He brought his hands to his side and leaned towards you, now very interested in knowing your social circle.

You said he wouldn't know. It's no one from work. You quickly switched the conversation about his boxing gloves again. It seems like he wanted to say something else, but he ended up disclosing about his hobby.

"I box in my free time. It's a good way to release all that pent-up stress from dealing with Jane's shit on the daily." You eyed his deformed ears. Then you asked him if he does it for money too.

"Yes. It's one of my side hustles." He scraped the remainder of his eggs from his dish.

You asked what he was doing at the bar last night.

"Ah, ah. Your turn to answer my question, pretty girl. What were you doing at the bar last night?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You said that you felt like drinking and going to the bar outside office hours. Was that so wrong?

He stared at you for a bit before replying, "You don't seem like the type."

You asked what he meant by that.

"You were never great at handling your own stress, doll. I know you don't like the smell of bars and the taste of booze. You were there as a 'last-resort' type of act, and I bet it's because of the guilt for standing me up."

While that is true, you don't necessarily appreciate Cyprus calling out as it is. You would very much prefer to remain in denial.

You said he has a good point. Then you proceed to ask him why was he there, in that one specific bar out of thousands in the city.

"I was there for a boxing match."

A match? Where?

"Somewhere." He was vague in his answer, you can only assume that it's nearby. "Next, what do you do on the weekends?"

You do not like these questions. They make you reflect upon your life.

You said spending time with friends, rot on the internet, or work. The last part made Cyprus grimace in disgust.

"The last thing on your mind during the weekends should be Jane's bitching. Work? Really?" You shrugged, saying that you're trying to save up enough for... you actually don't really know what you're saving for at this point. You're just doing what everyone is doing.

"You know you can't bring all that cash with you when you're dead, right?" He stood up, taking the empty disposables with him. Cyprus chucked it into the trashcan in his kitchenette.

You disregarded his last sentence and asked him about the paper plates and disposable utensils.

"They're cheap, and I don't have to do the dishes." what an interesting way of living.

You asked about his plans over the next three days. A flash of fear crossed your mind when you remembered you had to face your coworkers on Monday. They are going to ask all kinds of invasive questions and you're going to have to speak like a politician.

"What do you want to do?" He asked, leaning against his counter and staring down at you.

You said you wanted to pack up and go home.

He lets out a loud buzzing sound from his vocal cords. "Wrong answer, I'm not done with you yet."

You asked if you could at least have your clothes back.

"Later. They're in the wash."

You asked where is the wash.

"Downstairs."

You asked if you could go downstairs.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's lame down there, I'd have to say hi to my neighbors. And, I want to talk to you alone."

You asked if you can have your phone.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's charging."

Where?

"Not telling you." He pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and switched the stove on to light the cancer stick up.

You said you need your phone.

"To do what? More work? Dream on, I'm not helping you waste your life." He placed the cigarette into his mouth. Cyprus walked up to the window and blew puffs out of it. Occasionally he tapped his cigarette to knock the ashes off it.

You said you just need to check it. Someone might try to contact you in the event of an emergency!

"Trust me, it's nothing important. They're all from Jane." He took another drag of his cig.

You asked when will he be "done with you".

"When I feel like it."

You fell into silence, trying to think of something else to ask.

"I like you." He said, supporting himself over the windowsill with an arm. "You don't play that fake bullshit with me, you don't try to kiss my ass or fuck me over either. I like that a lot."

You watched him enjoy his smoke.

"You don't go around blabbering with a huge mouth. You're the only one in that damn building who minded your own business and respected me. I liked that."

You don't think you're any less nosy than your coworkers. But it was fascinating to see yourself through his eyes. Was that how you came off? You just didn't give a crap about Cyprus because he was antisocial and most likely wouldn't help you advance or destroy your career.

"And you're so fucking cute too. I had to snatch you up before anyone else did. But I couldn't lay it too thick, you and your reputation among the other mindless drones. I would have scared you off if I gave you roses in person, those pricks would have made a huge deal if I signed your letter with my full name." He stubbed his finished cigarette against the ashtray on the windowsill. Cyprus turned around and moved to the chair, he pulled it out and sat on it.

"I guess I came on too weak. It's fair. You wouldn't have known your gifts were from me. Did you like the chocolates? They were selling out fast, I knew I had to grab one for you."

You said it was nice, not knowing how to respond to his long rant.

You blurted out a question, asking him how he would define the relationship between you and him.

"You're my girl, duh."

You didn't know how to ask the next question without sounding rude or condescending, you wanted to ask what made him think you agreed to it. But no matter how you try to frame it, your question appears as a rejection. You didn't have to ask to have it answered, since he deduced from your uneasy expression.

"Fine. Deny all you want." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see how long that lasts."

You decided to rip the bandaid out and told him you're not interested in a relationship. You tried to convince him that you were not worth the effort, but your words entered one ear and out of the other.

You were interrupted by a hearty laugh erupting from his throat. It soon died down, Cyprus leaned closer, and he lowered and deepened his voice to a husky growl.

"You should know, that once I set my sights on you, there is no stopping me." His piercing grey eyes struck terror in your heart. "I am a dogged man, princess. I do whatever it takes to get the girl I want and I don't share."

You're uncomfortable, this is a completely different Cyprus than what you're used to. You missed the quiet man who would keep his distance from everyone, not this menace.

You're going to have to figure out how to deal with your new unwanted lover by Monday.

[cumikering]

John Price x reader

2.5k | tw implied sui ideation, angst, comfort Thank you for being here today

John smiled to himself as he watched from the end of the bar. A few feet away, a group of three women chatted. The pub was packed, but it didn’t escape his notice that one in particular laughed so bright. The life of the party.

It was the same woman who ordered for the group, round after round. In fact, for other groups too. She’d sent rounds to random tables the past hour.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but what caught his eye was how his battery was at 4%. A stupid idea to be out on such little juice, but the outing wasn’t planned – it was no more than an escape.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barman placed a pint next to the bourbon he’d been nursing. He opened his mouth to clarify-

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured to the very same woman.

John nodded at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She raised her own pint in acknowledgment. He finished the last of his bourbon and made his way over with the gift.

“Noticed you’ve been buying people drinks. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Saturday night. No one should be drinking alone.” She sipped her beer.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “But aren’t we all fundamentally alone?”

“Correct, but not here-“ She shrugged, teasing. “If you can help it.”

“Honest, is it your birthday?”

“Nah. Just happy.”

“Wanna be like you when I grow up.”

Her laughter was crisp yet warm. It caressed his ears despite the rumble of the establishment.

“Cheers, love.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a swig.

“Enjoy.” She followed suit before turning back to her friends.

He lingered, leaning against the bar as his gaze wandered across the room. Framed photos of vintage rugby and football stills crammed the wooden walls as they glinted under the deep yellow glow. The pub had seen better days, but from the size and chatter of the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone cared.

He didn’t either. He didn’t pick pubs for their looks.

Behind his glass, he smiled again at the way the woman laughed so easily. She reminded him of a certain someone, a blue-eyed Scot who never stopped soaring despite his clipped wings. The one with the sun roaring in his boundless heart.

The one to do things because he was happy.

She downed her beer, and gave each of her girls a tight hug. She was leaving, but not for a short time it seemed. She turned to the barman to tap her phone on the receiver before handing him a thick wad of bills. The grin cracked his face in half as he thanked her profusely.

John took a step towards her. “Leaving already?” he asked, a little louder this time due to the swelling noise.

“It’s almost 12.”

“Are you Cinderella?”

She laughed. “Wish I was.”

“You can be. I’ll just have to make sure to find you again.”

“No, don’t think so. It’s my last night here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving away.”

That explained the lengthy hugs. “Oh, where to?”

“Middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know.”

John knew a thing or two about faraway places. He spent the entirety of that day in one.

“You’re really Cinderella,” he concluded and downed the rest of his pint. “Have you got a pumpkin chariot waiting outside?”

“It’s nothing that interesting.” She grinned. “Want to enjoy my walk before it’s terribly late.”

“I can walk with you, if you’d let me. You did say no one should be alone Saturday night.“

He was nosy, clingy – not himself. But after managing to crawl out of the hellhole he called his mind, this was his first conversation of the day and he wasn’t ready to wallow in his flat again just yet.

She shrugged. “Alright, why not.”

Once more, she hugged her friends, rubbing their backs. They were teary eyed, but she wasn’t - her smile as lively as ever. He tucked a few notes under his glass before following her out.

On the pavement, she took a lungful of fresh air in, chin tipped up towards the sky. He supposed the weather was decent. At least it wasn’t raining.

His boots thudded as he walked next to her. With her hands tucked in the pockets of her light jacket, she strolled with a little bounce to her step as she looked up at the stars. They were easy to miss, but they were present, and it was enough to bring a curve to her lips.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask,” he said in amusement. “Why are you so happy?”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Could you really be happy for no reason?

He chuckled. “You make me want to dance, and I don’t even dance.”

She glanced at him teasingly. “You should. Dancing is fun.”

“You know how to?”

“No, but you don’t need to know how.”

“Want to show me?”

She turned to him with a laugh. “What, now?”

He shrugged. Her joy was contagious.

“Well, first of all, you need music.”

“Lucky you, I got the whole world in my pocket.” He pulled out his phone and clicked the power button. Once, twice. It wouldn’t light up. “I take that back,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Your phone then.”

“If we find a busker.”

He barked out a laugh. “What are the chances at this hour!”

“Slim to none, but you’re probably luckier than me.”

John thought of the close calls he’d had: the gunshots to the shoulders or the bullets ricocheting off his helmet that sent his ears ringing, or the desperate jumps he’d executed from cold-blooded heights. But despite everything, the gift of life was still his. Still beating and fluttering in his rough hand, stained with blood that hadn’t washed off.

He hummed. “I like to think I’m pretty lucky.”

With wonder in her bright eyes, she continued to admire the sky.

Was the secret etched onto its darkness, behind the fading clouds and dying stars? Perhaps he could find out if he squinted, even that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at.

Midnight London was nothing close to the desert skies he’d witnessed; the marbled ones with a handful of diamond shards splattered and swirled across them, the ones that made him feel like he was nothing but a speck of stardust waiting for its inevitable dissolve.

But perhaps the answer wasn’t in the beauty, but rather in what you made of what you had.

John glanced at her again because, well, a smile was a smile. If the unassuming sky could inflict something so beautiful, maybe it would work on him too. Even if just a tiny bit. If he’d just give it a chance.

As they entered her neighbourhood, she pointed out the establishments. This flower shop, the owner stopped her one day to give her a stalk of red orchid. That one cafe around the corner had amazing coffee and croissant, but she couldn’t bear waiting over an hour for them ever again. The chippy across it used to be her favourite kebab shop.

She chuckled. “I came in every week for years. It’s been three years and I still miss them.”

“You reckon they know how much their kebabs are loved?”

“Probably not. People never love enough until it’s gone.”

He considered.

“What does it matter anyway? The world runs on the width and height of love, not its depth.”

He shrugged. “True.”

He’d never taken the time to sightsee. It wasn’t really his thing, but a little tour of the city - the city she was leaving - made him feel nostalgic, like he too was leaving. Was he?

It didn’t feel like it took any time at all before she stopped at a building.

She turned to him with a wince. “Sorry, I’m not inviting you in.”

“I know. That’s fine.” John smiled, like the weight had been lifted off his chest, even if temporarily. “Today wasn’t the best for me, but you’ve made it better. So I wanted to thank you.”

She let her gaze drop, and for a second she looked… distraught, before recovering. “Well, you can come in for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t- I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he quickly said, but she’d headed towards the stairs. He didn’t stop her.

She pushed open the door to a studio apartment, tiny even when it was nearly empty.

“Tea?” she offered, making her way to the kitchen.

Her bed was in the far corner, a small table with two chairs by its foot. Across it, stood a dresser with a guitar leaning against it. The walls and surfaces were bare. There was no clutter apart from an empty carboard box on the floor.

“Sure.”

He didn’t judge. He too barely had enough to fill out a box, but that was his room on base, not his flat.

“You’ve got everything packed, it looks like.”

She hummed, filling the kettle up.

“Can I use your charger for a bit so I can order a ride later?”

“Of course. It’s on the nightstand.”

John made his way over, but the charger wasn’t there, nor on the floor. Nor was it in the ajar drawer. It was empty, safe for one thing. He whipped to her, chills running down his spine.

“Actually, why don’t you keep it. I don’t need it anymore,” she said lightly, flicking the kettle on.

“S’not there,” he muttered.

She scanned the room. “Oh, sorry. Then it must be by the table,” she pointed.

Wordlessly, he strode over and plugged his phone in with shaky hands. He swallowed, his throat going dry as his heart drained. He stared at the back of her head as she opened the overhead cabinet, only to chuckle to herself.

“I’ve only got a mug left. A bowl would have to do.” She set them on the counter and opened two tea bags.

He was going to be sick. He blinked rapidly, searching for something to distract himself with. His eyes fell to her guitar. He swallowed once more before he croaked, “T- That’s a gorgeous one.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at what he was pointing at. “It is. But one of the pegs broke and I never picked it back up.”

“Can I play?”

She frowned. “You can’t. It’s broken.”

“I’ll make do.”

“But it’s useless. I was going to give it away, but no one even wants it.”

“It’s still a guitar. And it’s not broken forever. Nothing is ever broken beyond repair.”

She paused before turning back to the counter. “Feel free then,” she said quietly.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, back against her bed. He strummed and tuned the dusty instrument as best he could. As expected, it didn’t sound right because of the jammed string.

His heart continued to beat out of his chest as she poured the hot water into the mug and bowl. She set them on the table before settling next to him.

The lump in his throat only swelled, but he turned towards her. His fingers trembled as he picked the strings. The first chord. A beat. A bar and two.

He let out a long, steady exhale. On any other day, he couldn’t have endured the disharmony, but today the ringing in his ears was far louder as he inhaled.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

John’s blue eyes stayed on hers as a smile blossomed on her lips. The sight pained him. His gaze cut to the fretboard.

“No blinding lights or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark.”

The metal strings buried themselves further in his fingertips. He drew a sharp breath, eyes shut, wishing the tears wouldn’t spill. Not now.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,” he heaved, trying his best to calm his voice, but a tear finally slipped. “I’ll follow you into the dark,” he rasped.

When he looked up at her, she had turned away, wiping at her tears.

He set the guitar aside and inched closer to her. “I saw…” he started, even when he wasn’t sure what to say. “In the drawer.”

But he couldn’t help himself when he wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, face pressing against his shoulder.

“It hurts,” she choked between sobs, her tears seeping into his shirt. “I keep telling myself to hold on for another day… But it’s been too long, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.”

“I know. Thank you for choosing to be here, no matter how hard. Thank you for trying. Thank you for giving it a chance, every day. Thank you for letting the world love you, because it will never be the same without you.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” she mumbled into his shirt, shaking in his arms.

He rubbed her back as he let out a breath. Another tear ran down his cheek. “It might not be now. Might not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but I swear it will be okay in the end. Always. Even if the worst has happened.”

John didn’t know how long, but in the silence, he held her until her tears and its tremors dissipated. Her grip on him loosened.

“If you… Tonight…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Would you?”

She nodded. It was tiny, but it was all he needed.

He wiped his own tears with a shaky sigh. “Come on then. It’s your birthday. We can do whatever we want.”

“What?” She pulled away with a chuckle, her voice still hoarse.

“Let’s go out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. Are you hungry? There’s waffles. Or chippy, pizza or kebab. The birthday girl can have everything.”

“What about the tea? It’s not even hot anymore.”

“Lucky me. Never been a fan of hot tea.”

She laughed through her drying tears as he chugged it down.

John Price considered himself pretty lucky, but he wasn’t lucky enough to find a busker in 2 a.m. London.

But he was lucky enough to spend hours on his tired legs walking across the city with her. They bought food - whatever that still looked appealing enough at the hour, until they decided to rest at a park. At the top of the stairs as they looked upon the rousing city, they basked in the remainder of its slumber.

At the break of dawn, in the distance, the blush of gold crept over the horizon.

She turned to him. It might not have been as wide or bright, but that smile carried something else. An empty field with the faintest sprout, stained with a tinge of hope.

“I’ll get my guitar fixed.”

It looked good on her.

Thank you for being here today. I’m so happy to have you here. Please stay safe and take care

Masterlist Ex bf Price Formula One Price

[daydreamer-in-training]

The cave

Penguin x f!reader

Description: You are the new crewmate on the Tang, separated from the rest of the Heart-Pirates and stuck in a cave with Penguin, you get the chance to get to know each other more; Penguin opens up about his past; realization of feelings; Reader is implied to have had a difficult past

✨Inspired by, and a precursor to this gorgeous fic by @fanaticsnail, strongly suggest on reading that as well!

Word Count: 4.300+

Imagesource

Notes: First fic i am uploading on this account! <3 And what better chance to dedicate my first upload to @/fanaticsnail for her birthday. That was yesterday and i missed finishing this fic at said day by 20 Minutes. Its not a fanfic about Heat or your gorgeous OC Tobiuo, but i hope you‘ll enjoy this anyways Snail! ;-; I probably would have never done this without you! <3

Please note that English is not my first language and i am very tired while uploading this :D Enjoy everyone✨

Spoiler Warning: for the non-canon events of the novel, which contains the story of how Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin met. I haven't read it myself, so i‘m basing this off of the fandom-wiki article and i‘m mixing my own interpetation with it

TW: the word fuck, bit violence and blood in Penguins backstory, so its canon-typical violence i guess

„I think she doesn‘t really like me, Shach.“ Penguin let out a frustrated groan as he couldn't play a card in the game he and his best friend were playing.

„Well, if you think that, because she's stubborn as hell and can‘t accept any help, I suppose you're right,“ the redhead said nonchalantly and played another card „She must hate us all then“.

„Shame, she's really something…“ Peng murmured more to himself, more concentrated on the game than on what he was saying. He pulled another card from the deck. Shachi raised an eyebrow at that, his grin bared some of his sharp teeth.

„Give it some time“, both of them looked up as they heard Law's voice, he was leaning on a yellow wall of the Polar Tang next to them, arms crossed in his usual stoic manner. He must have overheard them talking. „She's only been here for a handful of days, “ he thought about what he said next for a moment „And it's not easy to like you two from the start, you know? I‘m talking from experience here!“ the dry humour in his voice was evident, but he got the Middle finger from his best friends for that comment anyways. He chuckled lowly at that and pushed himself from the wall. „Seriously… it wasn‘t easy for her, at least what she told me about. But I think she fits in here very well, so give it some time.“

The two men's obscured eyes met for a moment, and they nodded, „Aye Cap!“They both saluted him half ironically with a grin, and he left with a satisfied look on his face.

„So… she's really something huh?“ Shachi teased and played another card that earned him the win to this round. Peng groaned again and rolled his eyes.

~

„It's nothing, really!“ you protested, hiding the limb as best as you could „It barely even hurts!“. But Penguin could see how your eyebrows furrowed in pain just a little bit. He grabbed your forearm gently to make you stand still. You looked back at him annoyed. “What!?“

„Sit down, before you make it worse.“, he gently pulled at your arm, agitated by your stubbornness and worried that you got hurt for him. „We don‘t know where we are going or where the others are anyways“ he added in an untypically stern way as you didn‘t move a bit to sit down.

You and Penguin were separated from the rest of the crew by an attack by the residence of the island you made landfall on earlier that day. They don‘t seem too keen on having pirates around and made that known quite quickly. As you were all exploring the nearby area, the cliff you were walking on got hit by a large missile.

You were talking to Bepo about the map you had acquired when the explosion hit the rocks and made the earth underneath you shake. Suddenly the view around you was obscured by thick smoke. You could barely make out the large boulders that fell down from the cliff above you. One is directly falling towards Penguin and Shachi, who were standing closest to you.

Instinctively you did the only thing you could think of and tackled Penguin out of the way. You felt a sharp pain in your ankle! Disoriented, he let out a scream of surprise as you two tumbled down the cliffside. Luckily it wasn‘t too steep. Nevertheless, you two rolled for a good couple of moments before coming to a halt in a bush at the base of the cliff. Penguin managed to grab you and hold you close to him, all while protecting your head with his large hand while you two were falling.

A moment passed between you two in which you stared into his obscured eyes.„Fine“ you pouted, sitting down on a rock nearby. „We should call the others“ you suggested tiredly, roaming around in your bag “I have the Den-Den here somewhere…“

Penguin used your distractedness to crouch down in front of you and take a sneaky look at your ankle. He wanted to grab your boot gently as you pulled it away. „I`ve already told you, it's not-“ You regretted that motion instantly, yelping as a sharp pain shot through your whole leg. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you looked away from his face, pouting.

„Nothing huh?! Just let me take a look, aye?!“, he looked up at you, his eyes covered by his hat but his mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace. He knew you hated getting help from others anyway, he figured that much out since you joined the heart-pirates a few weeks ago. Being vulnerable and all that wasn`t easy either when everyone was still a stranger to you, he understood that.

You opened your mouth to protest him, but he wasn`t having any of it. „No! No arguing anymore“, frustrated by your stubbornness, he took off his hat and threw it to the ground in front of him to blow off some steam. „I`m a trained medic, you know?! It's not just Law that knows these things!“

It was always just Law-this and Law-that with you. You obviously admired their captain, but somewhere deep down, it knawed at Penguin.

“Just let me help you“, his eyes were displaying the full dimensions of his emotions right now. Annoyed and tired and most of all worried, he looked up at you, his eyebrows meeting in the centre of his forehead in a silent plea. „Please trust me!“.

You let out a quiet little gasp, taken aback by Penguins' actions just now. It wasn`t his outburst that made your thoughts come to a halt, no. It was his eyes.

Those shining light blue eyes were like arctic ice, swimming in the ocean. They contrasted beautifully with his dark hair. You didn't expect him to have such beautiful eyes, so full of emotions. Is that why he was wearing the hat all the time? Because otherwise, everyone around him could bear witness to his emotions all the time.

You were transfixed, staring down at him with round eyes, your standoffishness had left your body completely, leaving you speechless.

His gaze softened at that. How cute! „You are part of the crew now. The heart pirates take care of each other, promise“, he assured you, his voice much softer now. You gave him a nod to confirm that he was allowed to take your boot off now, still unable to say a word.

You were watching his nimble fingers gently unlace the boot, trying not to inflict too much unnecessary pain. „S´might hurt a little…“ he warned you, so you could brace yourself as he took off the boot. You clamped our eyes together but remained brave, bearing the sting that came with the loss of the shoe. You immediately feel more vulnerable, now that the bootshaft wasn't there to stabilize your ankle anymore.

You winced as you saw how blue it already was, it didn't look like it was part of your body anymore. „Oh damn, it's super swollen“, he looked at it with a curious fascination only a medic could display, chuckling a bit. The dark-haired man immediately grabbed his bag and took out a medical kit and looked through it. „Be right back“, he murmured as he stood up to search for something.

You wordlessly watched him take off and rummage around on the ground nearby while taking his famed hat from the ground in your lap, to brush off the dust gently. A happy „aha!“ in the near distance signalled that he had found what he was looking for, running back to you with a spring in his step. You gulped back the lump that formed in your throat while watching him take care of your injury so intently, still patting his hat gently. He didn't even notice that you had picked it up as he came back, to focus on his task of bandaging you up.

„I will make you a temporary brace, s`alright?“ he presented the two twigs to you that he had found and resumed taking out bandages and tape. „This will keep you stable until we can put you back together properly on the Tang.“ he assured you while gently taping the sticks to your skin to hold them in place while he bandaged your ankle.

Your fingers gently graced the pompom on his hat to keep you occupied. “I trust in your skills Penguin, I`m sorry… I didn't mean…“ Your voice shook a bit as you held back a tear. You were in pain and very tired. And on top of that, it was new to you that someone else took care of you in this way.

Peng's head snapped up at the tone of your voice, his heart skipped a beat as he saw your sad expression. His gaze flickered for a moment. Then he gently grabbed the hat he just now realized you had in your lap and put it back on his head, his stunning eyes now hidden again. As he took it, your fingers gently grazed his, sending electricity through his body. In that moment he was glad his gaze was hidden by the fabric again, or it would give his tender feelings away immediately.

„Well,“ he chuckled to lighten the mood „I might have to amputate the leg still! Looks reaaal bad y´know?!“ now he was the teasing, old Peng you`ve come to know. While he resumed bandaging you up, making sure it was snuck against your skin, he continued his musings „We`ll make you a neat wooden leg, then, aye?“ the suggestion making you chuckle „But You`ll have to wear the heart pirates jolly roger on it! Cap will make you! But don't worry, I will paint it onto the wood myself, promise!“ his bright grin was infectious and you found yourself in a much better mood now.

He looked up at you, proudly presenting his finished handiwork on your ankle. It felt much more stable now. The corners of your mouth twitched a little as you looked down at the goofy man grinning up at you. You couldn't help your lips turn into a smile. „Thanks, Peng…“ you whispered.

A raindrop landed on your nose, and then another on Penguin's head. „Oh no“, you said in unison while looking up at the grey clouds shrouding the sky. „I saw a cave over there, let's get shelter there!“ he suggested and stood up, holding his hand out to you. You nodded and took it to stand up carefully. After a bit more bickering and you refusing to lean on him or be carried by him, you two made it over to the cave, right when it started pouring buckets.

„Guess we should stay the night, it's late anyway.“, his casual suggestion made you go stiff. Stay the night with him in a cave? Alone?! „W-we could try to call the others, “ you said instead of agreeing „Maybe they are close and we can return to the Tang“. But as you took out the tiny Den-Den Bepo gave you earlier, you found it to be broken. Unfaced by your fruitless attempt to avoid this, Penguin turned around and scanned the cave for anything dangerous as well as a good place to make a little fire with the branches he picked up on their way here. The sun was starting to set and it was already dark in the cave as it was.

„Sit down and relax. I‘ll prepare a fire.“ he gave you a tired look that left no room for argument. You furrowed your brows and opened your mouth but closed it again immediately. You were exhausted and a stinging pain reminded you of your injury. „Okay…“ you murmured in defeat and sat down at a spot Penguin deemed worthy for your „relaxation“.

You slowly lowered yourself and stretched out your insured leg while he built a little firepit nearby. You grabbed the bag you had with you and searched through it for the little food you had on you. That must do for the night. He was starting to be satisfied with the way the fire looked, which would keep you cosy for a good while.

Mesmerized and tired you stared into the flames that were starting to grow bigger and lighter. Then, out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed him standing up and pulling down his Boilersuit from his Torso.

„O-Oi, what do you think you‘re doing?“

He looked down at you and grinned mischievously “What? Does me undressing you make you that nervous?“ the low tone he used to tease you with made your heartbeat go a little faster. He dared to make eye contact with you as he slowly pulled the fabric from his arms. You tried to remain unfazed by his provocation, keeping a stoic face. But your gaze flickered over the defined muscles of his arm and torso that were now only clad by a black tank top. „As if!“ you quickly tore your gaze off of him and pouted, your face hot. But your bashfulness wasn't lost on him as he tied the upper half of his boiler suit around his waist. „Relax… I‘m just a bit warm from the fire s‘ all“ he chuckled and crouched down again to stoke the fire a bit more.

From the corners of your eye, you checked if he was still looking at you, and when he wasn‘t, you allowed yourself another good look at him. It was strangely intimate seeing him without his usual attire. It never occurred to you before that underneath the Boilersuit was the body of a… well a strong and trained fighter, which was honestly a bit idiotic of you, since he was one of Law's most capable fighters. As you slowly trailed the muscles of his arm with your eyes, you stopped at a huge scar that seemed to stretch around the main part of his forearm like a bracelet. It looked like he almost lost his arm at one point. Your blood froze in your veins at the thought.

As he softly called your name, you snapped out of your ogling, a bit anxious he caught you. „Look…“ he said breathlessly, his eyes flickered around the cave. You followed them and gasped as well. The cave walls were littered with shimmering purple crystal clusters of all sizes, and the big stones on the ground as well. Now that the soft light of the fire illuminated them, they sparkled and shimmered. It was as if you were surrounded by purple stars.

You barely noticed Penguin sitting down beside you, transfixed by this beauty. For a little while, you two were sitting shoulder to shoulder, admiring the Amethysts sparkling around you. „This is beautiful…“ you whispered, not wanting to destroy the comfortable silence between you two. „Yeah, beautiful indeed“, he whispered close to you. But his eyes weren't on the amethysts, they were on you.

His hunger made itself known then by a growling noise in his stomach, that made you snort. „I guess you're hungry?“ you grinned up at him and he nodded. You pulled out the little snacks you bought with you and handed them to him. „Here, eat that. Sorry it's not that much, but it's at least a little something.“ Penguin and you shared the small portion in comfortable silence. When you where finished, he stood up again to add some wood to the dying fire. You used that chance to examine the scar on his arm again, and this time you saw it was actually circling his whole forearm.

„Peng…your arm…was it…?“ the words tumbled out of your tired mouth before you knew it, but you managed to stop yourself before you asked the intrusive question. He followed your gaze down his arm to his scar and nodded in confirmation. „Yeah, it was torn off“. You gasped at this blunt answer, shocked by his casualness and the fact itself. „S-sorry…“, you cursed your stupid ankle for hurting so much, else you would pull your knees toward you and bury your face in them.

He sat down next to you, a gentle smile on his face. Nothing in his demeanour indicated that he was angry or uncomfortable with you. „I don't mind you asking…“ his fingertips graced instinctively over the scar tissue on his forearm, his days of feeling insecure about it were long over. You looked up at Penguin again, scanning his half-hidden face. You wished you could see his eyes just now, wondered what they would tell you about his feelings. The dim light of the dying fire painted his features in a soft and warm way. „How did you… how did it happen?“ your sleepiness gave your curiosity free rain. Your shoulders touched his as you leaned closer to him.

Your heart clenched at the thought of that. No kid deserved to experience this kind of stuff. „One day we met Law. We were little shits at that point. He confronted us for beating up Bepo before, we wanted to beat him up for that as well.“ Penguin laughed honestly at the memory. You looked up at him curiously. „And what happened? Did Law give you the scar?!“

He reassured you with a nod, his smile widening at the memory of the scar. "It's a scar that is very dear to me. It's how me and Shachi met Law and Bepo," his quiet confession hung softly in the air for a moment. "Wow, that was more than eleven years ago," he realized now. Your weight began to weigh on his shoulder, and he opened his arm invitingly. You looked up at him, confused and stubborn, but you gave in, blaming it on your tiredness and exhaustion. With a huff, you leaned against him as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. His touch was warm and comforting.

„My parents were killed in a storm when I was a young teenager… Shachi and I were sent to live with his aunt and uncle. They treated us like shit, those bastards.“ he spat those last words bitterly. He sighed and resumed „It was too much and we ran away and lived in a small shack in the forest. Swallow Island was fucking cold in the winter and we survived by stealing food and weapons from the nearby village.“

The dark-haired man looked down at you, his blue eyes shimmering mischievously under his hat. „Kinda yeah. He knocked us out with his devil-fruit power. But that wasn't the last time we saw him of course. And our bad luck did not end there either.“

Lost in his story, his fingers trailed small shapes on your arm, it made you shiver a bit. „A few days later, we were searching for berries in the forest when a wild Boar attacked us. We must have provoked it somehow… I was so scared.“ his arm around you tightened as he looked into the flames of the fire. „It gave Shachi a huge gash in his stomach, the white snow was red all around us. I tried throwing a bomb but I panicked and it blew off before I could and that damn boar tore off my arm, “

Penguin swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued. His fingers lazily went up and down your upper arm again. He remembered seeing his severed arm in the white snow, it felt so sureal to him back then. It still does. „And Law and Bepo.…they found us and treated us, even though we were compleat assholes to them! We would have died if it wasn't for them and a man named Wolf. Law managed to reattach my arm, he gave his everything.“

Your heart ached for Penguin. He went through so much, but at the same time, it made you feel less alone with your past experiences.

„Peng….“ you whispered into the silence that replaced his story. He looked at you wordlessly, and you couldn't make out much of his face, since the fire was now just gleaming ambers in the firepit. But being so close to him, you were able to look into his eyes again and you didn't need to see more, because they said enough. „Thanks for sharing that with me…“sleepiness laced your voice.

He slowly looked from one eye to the other, then to your lips, that were so close to his. “We should sleep now, we need rest, “ he said, damning himself a little. You closed your eyes and nodded. Sleep found you quickly as you leaned against his strong shoulders. He waited till your breath was even and he was sure you sleped. Even though you were stuck in a shit situation, he considered himself lucky right now. His lips lightly graced your temple „Good night…“.

~

The next morning you woke up still leaning against Penguins, his arm was a comforting weight around your shoulder. Aside from the pain in your ankle, you did sleep quite well. Peng was already awake for a little while before he felt you moving. To be honest, he didn't sleep much, and how could he when you were so close to him? „Good morning“ You didn't have to look at his face his wide grin was evident in his voice alone. You sat up slowly and nodded „Good morning…“ feeling a blush creep onto your face, you avoided eye contact. Before you had enough time to think about the situation you were in and your feelings about it, you heard your names outside the cave.

~

“Aaand?“ Shachi teased his best Friend, poking his elbow into the other ribcage „What happened in that cave?! You had the whole night to yourselves after all“, his voice was teasing and lighthearted, „Did you finally make a move? Is she a good kisser?“. „No!“ the red-haired man blinked in confusion at the sharp answer, it came out harsher than Peng intended. He looked away, pulling his hat further into his face to hide the intense blush on his face, „Sorry man…“ he murmured, „No…nothing of that sort has happened…“. He could feel his heartbeat quicken again, as he recounted the memory of your little cuddle session to Shachi. A reassuring hand landed on his broad shoulder and made him look at his best friend, who had a soft grin on his face. „Crushing hard?“. Peng let out a defeated groan, he would never hear the end of it now.

Your laughter echoed abroad the deck of the Polar Tang, making Shachi and Peng look towards you, talking to Hakugan and Bepo. And there it was again, that smile of yours that made Penguin's stomach burst with butterflies.

A dorky smile crept on Peng's lips, he shook his head at his friend's suggestion. „No Shach… not crushing“, he confessed as he leaned against the railing, turning his head to the sky, „She`s it, man.“ he turned his head to his friend, who had nothing teasing to say for a change, just listening intently. „I want her to be mine…forever…“. As he said it out loud, he turned the amethyst geode he took from the cave with him in his pocket.

Shachis neutral expression twisted into a wicked grin, baring his sharp teeth. „I guess I have to step up my wingman game then! With your measly flirting skills, you wouldn`t have a chance without me!“, he teased and earned a light punch on the head from Penguin. „Shut up, you jerk!“ he shouted for everyone to hear.

You watched the dynamic- duo of the Polar-Tang bicker from afar, giggling at their antics. You were transfixed on Penguin, who had fun as he started to chase his friend across the deck playfully, cursing at him. Your heart swelled fondly at the tender moments you two had shared last night and you wondered if you would be able to stare into those beautiful eyes again soon.

✨

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[sunnie-writes]

kiss marks !!

pairing: wally darling x reader !!

genre: fluff, friends to lovers.

tw: stimming(?), mentions of intense staring.

plot: julie convinces reader to try makeup for fun, and then end up leaving a certain yellow fellow easily flustered by this.

pronouns: they/them, makeup has no gender !!

sunnie, talk that talk: AAAAAAAH MY FIRST WELCOME HOME FIC !! i seriously hope you guys enjoy it <33 feel free to give any constructive criticism if needed !!

"trust me, you'll look delightful!!" julie happily said.

you could only smile at her antics. in this situation, you were being julie's test doll as she tried different makeup looks on you. after some time though, she decided to set on a particularly chic look on you, smokey eyes and cherry red lipstick. not only that, she made you dress up in clothes that fit the makeup more, saying something about "fitting the dark fancy look".

"aaaand done!!" julie placed down the lipstick, "oh. my. gosh!! you look absolutely stunning!!"

"do i? where is the mirror??" you asked, going directly to your reflection.

you could agree, that looked absolutely great on you, maybe you should try different styles for often. only with julie around, though.

"you look like a hollywood star, or maybe one of those crazy rich people on tv shows!!" she stimmed, flapping her hands nonstop.

"thank you, i... liked this." the praise made you shy.

"oh, we need to go now!! poppy is holding a friend gathering tonight in her backyard!!" julie smiled while catching your hand to hold hers.

you both left the girl's house and began walking towards poppy's. on the way, you thought about what could the neighbors say, maybe even a certain yellow artist would notice and think of you as something more.

truth be told, you had a huuuuuge crush in wally darling, the artist in your lovely tiny neighborhood. nobody could blame you, those half lidded eyes with a cat-like smirk surely would make more than just you fall completely down the stairs of love.

as you two finally arrived, you could see everyone eventually get into your point of view. the food table was full of delicious looking meals, and not to mention how everyone was dressed in different outfits from their usual daytime clothing, opting for a more formal look even.

"oh? julie and y/n arrived!!" barbaby exclaimed, "how are you doing, lady and--"

everyone immediately looked in your direction, julie hugged your arm on your side and giggled. heat started pooling in your cheeks as each of their eyes seemed to get wider at your presence. sally was the first to break the silence.

"oh my, y/n looks amazing!!"

barbaby whistled, "julie sure did a great job, you look stunning."

you chuckle as more praises pour in. unfortunately, it seems like the reason you got overly dressed up hasn't shown up yet. moving to the table, you get yourself a nice glass of grape juice while looking over to the gateway incase wally randomly pops out of the air.

looks like your prayers were answered, you hear poppy scream like a mother seeing her son in graduation clothing, "wally!! you're finally here!!"

you look over to him, your cheeks heating up immediately and heart beating a bit more fast. standing in a blue tuxedo with a red tie was wally, with his pompadour still up and his mesmerizing eyes. you swallow the air as to control yourself.

"ha ha, hello everyone." his voice still sounds as calm and relaxed as ever, which doesn't help at all with your flustered state.

"let me guess, you're late because you were working on your pompadour?" frank sarcastically spoke.

"oh, you guessed it. nice one, ha ha!" wally just laughed before looking around him, "all of you look amaziiiiiiiingggg..." his words slurred down as his eyes stopped at you.

you could feel his eyes burning through your skin. if you were made of wax, you would've melted already. his stare was everywhere, your clothing, your hair before finally stopping at your face, meeting your gaze.

"oh my..." wally had his mouth wide opened.

"hehe, surprised?" barnaby questioned his friend with a knowing face.

"y/n decided to let me do their makeup and choose their outfit today, don't they look amazing?!" julie exclaimed happily.

snapping out of his thoughts, wally answered.

"yea, of course." he smirked as usual while looking in your eyes, "what a sight for sore eyes."

you blushed before thanking him, earning another one of his half lidded eyes stare. wally made his way to you, holding one of your hands and planting a kiss on the back of your palm.

"oh my, what a gentleman we have here." you chuckled, trying to play cool.

it seemed to work, his usual yellow cheeks earned a light red shade. liking his reaction, you decided to be a bit more bold, planting a kiss on his cheek before walking away to julie, leaving a flustered wally holding where your lips once were.

"ooh, what was that?? you looked so... powerful!!" she jumped up and down.

"w- well i mean, two can play this game, right?" your tongue failed you, making you stutter and julie giggle at that.

"hehe, sly y/n!! i like this side of you, makes you look all cool and mysterious!" she striked a pose with finger guns, you laughed at that.

suddenly, sally walked right behind julie, waving at her and stopping in front of you, motioning for you to get close.

"i don't mean to gossip, but wally can't keep his eyes off of you!" the sunshine whispered.

you looked over your shoulder, making eye contact with that smug stare of his. you could feel him scanning your face, which was obviously making him more flustered since he couldn't stop staring so much.

seeing the romantic tension in the air, julie and sally looked at each other before walking together to the opposite side that you were, starting a conversation with eddie and frank. wally, seeing this opportunity, approached you with confident steps.

"so, mx. l/n, what made you dress up so... differently?" he asked.

"oh, you know darling, just for the friend gathering." you took use of his last name, obviously causing a reaction as he noticed what you did.

"ha ha, clever as ever, i see."

"thank you. any other question?" you smugly smiled at him while screeching on the inside.

"hmm, do you wanna take a walk with me, we can take a look at the stars maybe."

you were jumping up and down inside your head, "of course, lead the way."

you walked by his side, interlocking your arms together. his shoulders relaxed and he widened his eyes before walking out of the gateway with you by his side.

you gotta' give him credits, the sky looked absolutely beautiful that night.

"the stars look beautiful tonight." you spoke, eyes shining like the billions of lights above you two.

"not so beautiful as someone i know." wally was obviously hinting at you, but you decided to play his game.

"oh really? who?" you jokingly questioned.

"you know who." he responded, you tilted your head in a provocative manner, "you, of course."

"quite the romantic you are." you leaned closer to him, making his cheeks get brighter, "any other reason of why you wanted to take me out in this particular night?"

he looked to the side before staring right back at you.

"there is another reason." he released your arm and got in one knee, "you see, i have something to confess to you. y/n l/n, ever since you moved in here, i was never able to take my eyes off of you. even as you walked by and just laughed with our friends, i could always find my gaze stuck upon your figure. i thought i was able to keep my feelings hidden for you, each and all of my pining could be hidden as i fell more deeper for you. but today, you showed up in a way that i can't explain, blessing my eyes and enchanting this puppet's heart right into your palm." your heart was beating so fast, eyes almost watering before you calmed down, cheeks reddening at the sight of his moonlit self, "so i beg and ask of you, would you wanna give this artist a chance and become his one and only muse?"

you were speechless, only nodding your head before he got up and you threw yourself at him, kissing his face and leaving multiple lipstick marks. cheeks, forehead, the space where his nose would be, and finally, his lips.

you were so happy, couldn't contain yourself from leaving him absolutely breathless.

"of course, i do." you chuckled while he tried to recompose himself, only to be stared at by heart eyes and a loving sigh.

"give a man a warning before you rock his world like that." he laughed quietly.

you held his face on your palms, and it felt like you were holding the world, feeling confidence wash over you as you traced your eyes towards the marks you left on him.

"WOOOO-HOOOO!! GO Y/N!!!!" you heard someone scream.

looking over your shoulder, you were met with all of your friends watching you guys from afar. eddie and frank holding hands while eddie laughed and his boyfriend just slightly smiled, julie jumping up and down while stimming alongside sally who was shining even more brightly, howdy chuckling while clapping all of his four hands, barnaby clapping while howling happily and poppy stared with watered eyes like a proud mother.

well, at least you two didn't need to spend the rest of the night explaining how you and wally darling became a couple.

and with that, you gave him another peck on the lips, before pulling him to all of your friends, while he lovingly stared at you, his for now and forever number one muse.

"dearest, you're the absolute most."

sunnie, talk that talk: HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS OMG SUFNEJFJSJDJS n e ways, byeeee dear reader, ily mwah /p

[whoisneo404]

Do you like scary movies?

Summary: You and Nick have sex while you are stoned.

TW: smocking the green stuff, cursing, NSFW.

Note: Sub!Nick and reader is a cis male (so sorry to the trans readers, I’ll make more things for you all eventually).

A Friday night out ended up like it always does, 3 random Instagram users written on my hand, my eyes red, a can of mountain dew on my hand and me walking to Nicks house. My head fuzzy and my pants tight with the thought of his soft legs bringing me closer to him.

I hear my phone ring, and as I take it out of my front pocket, I can see that Nick is calling me, probably because I haven’t replied to the 15 messages, he has been sending me since I told him I was heading his way. I answer.

-Yellow?

-Why haven you been texting back? You’ve got me worried, you stupid fuck. - He sounds annoyed more than angry.

-Sorry love. - I mumble back, my pants getting insanely tighter around my crotch just from hearing his voice.

-Don’t call me love…

-Oh, but you love it when I whisper it into your ear as I slide in so-

-ENOUGH!

I laugh as I stand on the porch of his house, grabbing my set of keys where I keep the key to the front door, one he gave my many months ago.

-Do you like scary movies? – I whisper to the phone as I open the door, entering the house and locking it behind me.

-Yeah… - Nick whispers back, the house is dark, empty, besides the two of us.

-What’s your favorite scary movie? – I walk to his room, my boots making the tiles squeak with every step, I can see a dim light shine through Nicks closed door.

-I don’t know…-He whispers, I hear him walking around his room. I laugh once more and I hang up on him as I open the door, he lets out a little gasp that makes my chuckle even harder. – God, knock next time.

-Why would I? – I walk to him and hug him, squeezing his body to mine, takin in his scent. – you are my final boy after all, and now I have you. – I kiss his cheek, down to his jaw and then to his neck.

-You are so dumb. Fuck- wait, you just got here.

Nick tries to squirm away from me but I push him to the bed. He lands on his back, pushing himself up with his elbows.

-Come on, love. I need you; we can talk after… if you are not too tired. – I wink at him and his cheeks blush a bit. I unzip my pans as I watch him take of his shirt (which is actually mine, one that I left many weeks ago and now he uses to sleep from time to time), I climb on the bed, crawling to him.

-You always fall asleep first. -Nick mumbles out, his hands sliding to my stomach from underneath my shirt, lifting it.

-That’s because I always leave you satisfied. – I smirk, helping him take off my shirt and tossing it on the floor, probably to never see it again, because he will steal it.

-Whatever, just shut up. – Nick looks away, I lean down, kissing his jaw softly as I move my hands all over his waist and hips.

-Mhm, is my baby shy? – Moving my hands down slowly, his sleeping shorts glide down smoothly. I slide down my jeans and I press my hips against his, my hard length rubbing over his. Pushing my body to his, I kiss him, messy lips crashing against each other, his hands wondering on my neck, hair and chest.

With a little of help from him I completely take off his shorts and boxer, his leaking tip hit his tummy, white drops smearing all over his abdomen. I smile as I watch him, my cheeks a bit red, my right hand takes his length and starts stocking it softly, my other hand goes to my waistband and pull down my boxers. I lean down and kiss his cheek softly, pressing both of our members together. Nick gasps, his back arches, his cheeks red and his eyes filled with need.

I rub my hips back and forward until I need more. “Turn around” I whisper into his ear, and on a swift roll Nick is laying on his chest, his legs keeping his hips up, his back arched prettily. I reach out to his night stand drawer and take out the bottle of lube half empty, pouring a bit on my dick and some on his entrance, rubbing it all over and inside of him.

-You ready baby? – I ask, his eyes meeting mine over his shoulder, he nods. – Words love, talk to me. – Nick whines.

-Yes! I’m ready – his voice is shaky, his hips move a bit, backing onto mine.

-Okay pretty boy. Be as loud as you want.

I stroke my length a few times before softly pushing it in, biting down on my lip, Nick buries his face into the pillow and I could hear his small whines and gasps.

-Come one, sweetheart. Let me hear you.

I grab a fist full of his hair and pull it gently, his head softly raises and I start pounding him slowly, long and controlled thrusts. As Nicks moans and pleads get louder my hips buckle into him at a messier pace, my chest heavy, my head spinning as I squeeze his hip.

-Fuck… - I pull out, grabbing him by the hip and shoulder make him turn around, laying on his back, I grab both of our cocks, gently pressing and rubbing them. Nicks back arches, his body pressing against mine.

I shut my eyes, biting down on his neck, strong to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. I feel the way his legs shake and my breath starts to steady as I feel the warmth dripping down my hand to his stomach.

-God, I love when you go partying. – Nick whine sunder his breath.

-I know sweety, I know.

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[tanjiroslittlesib]

i got two boyfriends and they’re best friends. i love it when they french kiss.

tw threesome, reader is afab, multiple orgasms, polyamory (kind of?), oral, spitroasting, tanjiro’s a soft dom, zenitsu’s just eager to please

Tanjiro raises his head up reluctantly from in between your thighs, which were shaking a bit. Slick and spit cover the bottom half of his gorgeous face, along with your inner thighs. His wine-colored eyes open, lidded by the desire for more of you.

The yellow-haired boy next to him, trying impatiently to gather a semblance of patience at the display in front of him, huffs a little. Tanjiro’s already made you cum twice, when is it his turn?

“Tanjirooo,” He whines a little, “When can I have a turn? I want a taste.” Zenitsu pouts, his hard-on becoming painful.

Tanjiro, without hesitation, leans forward and captures Zenitsu’s mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue meshed with Zenitsu’s and earned a small squeak from the blonde. Tanjiro kisses him slowly, making sure Zenitsu gets a proper taste before pulling away, a strand of spit connecting the two. You sit up, a bit dazed as you feel yourself throb some more from the sight.

“There,” Tanjiro says with a smile. “You wanted a taste.”

Zenitsu blushes even deeper than he thought was possible, not only because of Tanjiro kissing him that passionately so causally, but because he can taste you. And he really wants more.

Zenitsu uses this to his advantage and pulls your legs closer to him before spreading them apart. Tanjiro sighs but allows it, he has been hogging you for a bit. Zenitsu settles his face in front of his favorite thing in the world and looks at your cunt lovingly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He looks back up at you for a second, so you know those words are meant for you and not just your pussy. You never know with Zenitsu. Then he dives in, tonguing your already sensitive pussy and moaning almost immediately at the taste. His tongue wasn’t as skilled as Tanjiro’s but he was very determined and passionate. Zenitsu dips his tongue inside of you, making more noises as he does so, before going up to lap at your clit. The gasp that comes out of you causes Tanjiro, who’s moved next to you, to smirk a little.

“Is he making you feel good, sweetheart?” Tanjiro asks you, so sickeningly sweet.

You nod as more breathy moans fall from your lips. Lips that Tanjiro thinks are a little unoccupied at the moment.

Tanjiro presses a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away and unbuttoning his belt. Simultaneously, Zenitsu moves down to circle your hole with his tongue before lapping up more of your juices. You’re not sure who to watch, they’re both perfect and your head is spinning. You decide to watch Zenitsu who’s making the prettiest noises as he eats you out. When you glance back at Tanjiro, he’s beside you again and he’s completely naked.

“You think you can suck me off while Zenitsu’s busy between your legs?” Tanjiro’s words are so dirty and unlike anything he’d say outside of the bedroom. Even though you’ve heard him say similar things like that a number of times, it’s always a bit surprising and makes you even wetter.

You’re very eager to respond with a yes, leaning to lap at his cock with kitten licks. After a moment, you take him into your mouth right as Zenitsu sucks on your clit. You feel your mind slipping, going blank as you moan around Tanjiro’s cock. Tanjiro’s hands wrap around your head, pulling you closer to him but not so that he is forcing you into more than you can handle. He hisses softly as you move back and forth, eager to please him.

You’re not sure when exactly Zenitsu had changed positions but when you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, slowly sliding all the way in, you allow yourself to completely become a fleshlight for the two men. You think you’d be happy to let the two demon slayers absolutely wreck you anytime they want. For de-stressing reasons, of course.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 1: Love is... Letting someone take care of you (Prompt by @starryeyedjanai)

wc: 722 | Rated: G | tw: the ever-present possibility of Steve vomiting, migraines

Tags: Sick Fic, Steve Has a Migraine, Caregiver Eddie

Eddie makes his way down the hall, following the sounds of gross, loud and retching coughs, his pace quickening with each step.

Steve was supposed to meet him at the arcade an hour ago. Steve isn’t exactly the most punctual person (despite the guy always looking at his watch with a laboured sigh). He sleeps in more often than not.

But he’s never an hour late at 2 in the afternoon.

“Stevie?” he asks, just narrowly missing the doorframe as he practically spins into Steve’s bedroom.

He doesn’t wait for an answer and tiptoes towards the blanketed form that is spluttering gibberish like Steve is attempting to answer.

Eddie looks around the room, his hand hovering over Steve’s form.

The place looks about the same as usual – a little too clean for the bedroom of a twenty-year-old boy, curtains drawn like they were downstairs. Steve’s work clothes from yesterday are discarded on the floor...

Wait.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, rubbing the blanketed mass now.

The lump moves to reveal a muss of Steve’s hair, sticking on end, looking greasy and tangled at the back. Steve grumbles.

Eddie rounds the bed, hoping the other side will reveal Steve at least a little.

“So dizzy,” Steve mutters as soon as Eddie spots his flush, pained face in amongst his bedding.

His eyes roll back and close, a full-bodied grimace shaking the pile of bedding.

Eddie eases down and reaches to comb his fingers through Steve’s fringe, only to be hit with just how clammy his boyfriend is. He swoops back the sweat-caked hair, patting it down gently.

“Think I’m gonna… throw up,” Steve says clear as day and gulps.

And Eddie thinks this might be the first time he has ever seen someone’s face flush green.

“I’ll go get your bucket,” he says, earning a reedy whine in protest.

Steve doesn’t embarrass easily, but he does when it comes to his (sometimes vomit-inducing) migraines and the yellow bucket Claudia Henderson brought by after Spring Break and demanded he keep close by. It sits under the sink in the ensuite bathroom now.

Eddie makes quick work of retrieving the bucket, plus some tissues and a glass of water. There are more supplies he could do with, he thinks, but they’ll have to wait.

“Come on, Big Boy,” he says, tugging at the covers, “Time to sit up.”

Steve moves at a snail’s pace to get himself untangled from his cocoon and sit upright. The blankets eventually fall away to reveal a flush, bare chest.

“You naked under there?” Eddie teases.

“Clothes sting,” is all Steve says as he swings his legs around with a monumental effort to hang off the side of the bed.

“Feet on the carpet, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs, placing the bucket in his lap and spotting it with his own hands.

“I’s gross,” Steve mutters, head falling into the receptacle, his voice echoing in its (so far) emptiness, “Go... away.”

He sways a little as if those limited, broken words were too much. Eddie wraps his free hand around his boyfriend’s middle.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he begins, “And you are not gross. You need help. I’m here now.”

He soothes his hand up Steve’s back, feeling him relax a touch.

“O-okay,” Steve hiccups, a tear falling onto his cheek.

“I’m here to look after you,” Eddie reassures, his voice barely above a whisper, “And I’ll get you good enough that we can pack you up and get you over to my house. Sound good, hmm?”

Steve half-nods into his bucket before he looks up.

His eyes are glassy. Nose red. His fringe now sticking to his forehead. He looks like a wreck, unkempt and sweaty. Now only a pale, pink-tinged green.

But Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to his partner’s cheek anyway.

“Just think about your feet on the carpet, okay?” he whispers when he pulls back, “Your feet are planted on the ground – balanced, steady. Focus on that for a while. It’s okay if you throw up.”

Steve huffs and nods.

“‘Kay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve.”

Steve drops his head towards the bucket again and Eddie begins detangling at the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps after a long while of silence (and him not blowing chucks everywhere), “L-Love you.”

[fernclans]

MOON 07. (part 2) (tw; trauma, cliffhanger AGAIN sorry)

Starring: Dashpaw (BuddingClan), Cliffstripe (BuddingClan), Amberpaw (BuddingClan), Cougarkit (BuddingClan), Cowkit (BuddingClan), Pinekit (BuddingClan)

The sound of frantic pawsteps could be heard first, Amberpaw growing alert and rising from her spot near Cliffstripe where they’d been chatting. Part of his hearing damaged by his loss of an ear, it seemed the ginger warrior was unaware something was approaching before his companions demeanor changed, looking up at her quizzically with his remaining yellow eye.

“Someone’s coming.” She meows simply, fixated on the camp's entrance. Cliffstripe pulls himself into a sitting position, trying to prepare himself for anything.

Dashpaw is a blur when he breaks through the clearing; had it not been for the unfamiliar scent he carried with him, the ginger warrior might not have been able to tell that he even had a kit held firmly in his jaws. The half-white tom locks his eyes on Amberpaw, making a b-line to her and promptly placing the kitten a tail-length in front of her paws.

“I need you to look after him.” Without waiting for a response, he turns his head towards Cliffstripe. “Cliffstripe, I need you to follow me. There are two more kits still. Flippaw is running a diversion, but I don’t know how much time she’ll have.”

Cliffstripe nods firmly. “Got it.” In an instant, he’s on his paws, muscles tensing and preparing for a run.

“A diversion!?” Amberpaw shouts, looking desperately at Dashpaw for more details. “Dashpaw what-”

“There’s no time to explain right now! I’ll tell you everything in a bit!” In typical Dashpaw fashion, he’s gone before she could finish her questioning. Cliffstripe shoots her an apologetic glance before taking off after the other tom.

Giving a sigh, Amberpaw slumps back onto her haunches and looks down at the young kit that was placed at her paws. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, kit. I’m Amberpaw.” She offers the tan tabby a kind smile, thinking back to the time when Flippaw was still this small and hoping to StarClan the molly was going to be alright.

--

“Explain to me what’s going on.” Cliffstripe says firmly between the pounding of his paws. “What do I need to know?”

Dashpaw was a few paces ahead of him, leading the way. He doesn’t spare a glance back at the warrior, and hopes that his voice can be heard well enough from his position. “Flippaw and I were in the outer fields -- she smelled blood, I smelled a wolf. I tried to leave, but she found these kits instead-” He stops for a second to catch his breath before continuing. “-she said she was going to lead the wolf away so we could get the kits! She didn’t even give me a choice about it!”

Were it not for the severity of the situation, Cliffstripe would almost find it humorous; perhaps Dashpaw had rubbed off more on the younger molly than he had thought. “Did you find their mother?”

“I’m guessing that’s the source of the blood-smell.” Dashpaw shouts back grimly.

Try as he did, Dashpaw couldn’t catch a single trace of Flippaw’s current whereabouts; maybe that was for the best? Hopefully that meant she was successful in leading the beast away.

When they reached the remaining two kits, one of them had started crying out for its mother, the sound of her tiny voice causing Cliffstripe’s heart to ache. To lose one's family so young… He approaches the kit slowly, lowering himself to appear less threatening. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” The other kit, the blue one, hisses and lashes a tiny paw out defensively. Her sister waddles forward on unsteady paws and sniffs at Cliffstripe curiously.

“This is sweet and all, Cliff’, but we gotta be going.” Dashpaw warned, tail twitching nervously behind him.

Drawing himself back up, Ciffstripe licks at his chest, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Ah- no, you’re right.” He turns back to the pair of kittens and picks up the remaining brown and white she-kit, Dashpaw following suit and grabbing the cranky blue one before making themselves scarce.

--

By the time they return, Amberpaw has put a nest together for the kits; lined with downy feathers from an earlier catch, it seemed the mottled tabby kit Dashpaw had brought in before had already taken up residency within. With the other two kits placed into the nest, they greet each other excitedly, the blue kit pouncing sloppily onto her brother.

“Is that all of them?” Amberpaw asks, looking at the toms.

“These are all the ones Flippaw and I found.” Dashpaw confirms.

An uneasy silence fills the clearing at the mention of the spotted apprentice’s name. Her plan was so hurried that they didn’t take the time to discuss where they’d meet up after, where she planned to goad the wolf into chasing her, really anything.

“She’ll be okay.” Cliffstripe meows, causing the others to look at him.

“How can you be so sure? She’s only been an apprentice for two moons!” Amberpaw’s voice is harsher than she intended it to be, and she flinches back from her own voice. “I’m sorry for yelling, I just-”

Cliffstripe shakes his head. “It’s okay, I understand. Just believe in her, okay? Dashpaw did, I’m going to choose to do so as well. If Flippaw thought she could manage this, then I trust her.”

Amberpaw looks uncertain still, but remains silent and simply nods. As confident as she was in herself, she struggled to find the kind of trust that Cliffstripe seemed to have in everyone.

Seeming uncomfortable with just sitting around, the molly turns her attention back to the trio of kits and tries to usher them off of the nest. “Come on, I’ll bring you inside so you can sleep.”

Dashpaw fights the urge to argue their nest placements; now wasn’t the time. He looks back to Cliffstripe, worry knitted in his brow. “When should we go out to look for her?”

“When the moon is high. I want to make sure we give her enough time and don’t meet the wrong end of a wolf.” Again. He nods back silently, light-blue gaze fixated on the stars beginning to fill the sky. ‘StarClan, if you really exist… you better keep her safe.’